by Timothy Zahn
But it had happened. They'd pulled it together, all of them: the clan and family leaders first, the common Zhirrzh afterward. The Third Eldership War had been Oaccanv's last, and within two hundred cyclics even minor border skirmishes had all but disappeared. It had taken a special breed of Zhirrzh, Thrr-gilag had always believed, to have created such a future from the ashes of war. A unique group of visionaries, drawn together by destiny and necessity alike, who had risen above the traditional patterns of the past and found a way to bring the rest of the Zhirrzh race along with them.
Gazing out the window of the suborbital transport, Thrr-gilag stared at the lush green landscape beneath them. And wondered if, even with those same visionaries available to advise them, any Zhirrzh leaders since that time would have been able to pull off such a miracle.
The transport put down at the landing field outside Citadel, once the main stronghold city of the Kee'rr and still the clan's political and cultural center. The Thrr-family territory and shrine were three hundred thoustrides farther on, perched on the edge of a line of hills between two small branches of the Amt'bri River. A supply transport was getting ready to leave Citadel for the region; with a little fancy wordwork and judicious waving of his Overclan-complex pass, Thrr-gilag was able to talk himself aboard. Ten hunbeats later they were in the air.
"Heading home, eh?" the pilot commented as he brought the transport to its cruising altitude and leveled off. He was a middle-aged Zhirrzh, with age wrinkles around his eyes and an interesting crack-scar on his mouth. His tunic threads placed him as a member of the Hgg, the same family the current Speaker for Kee'rr belonged to. "Getting out of the fast pace for a little while, eh?
"A very little while," Thrr-gilag told him. "I have to be back in Unity City in a few fullarcs."
"Ah," the pilot said, throwing him a speculative look. "I hear the Overclan Seating's going crazy back there over this Human-Conqueror thing. You involved with any of that?"
"The whole Zhirrzh race is involved with it," Thrr-gilag said, marveling yet again at the sheer speed of the Elder information network. Less than a single fullarc since the Overclan Prime had coined the termHuman-Conqueror, and here was a pilot on a minor supply run four thousand thoustrides away already using it.
"Involved right up to our tonguetips, from what I've heard," the pilot agreed darkly. "My grandfather was telling me about it last fullarc. Vicious warriors, nasty weapons, plus lots of Elderdeath stuff they're not shy about using. You know anything about that?"
"I've heard some of those same rumors," Thrr-gilag said evasively, wishing he knew exactly how much information the Overclan Seating had officially released to the general public. The last thing he wanted to do was toss more rumors into the general mix, especially considering the trouble he was already in. "Was your grandfather with one of the survey ships?"
"No, but he got it pretty straight," the pilot said. "One of his old co-workers has a friend who'd talked directly to the first cousin of an old warrior friend of one of the Elders on the mission."
"Sounds pretty straight, all right," Thrr-gilag conceded. If the Elders were talking, it was all over the eighteen worlds by now, official release or not. "I wouldn't panic just yet, though. We've got some pretty good weaponry, too, you know."
"I suppose," the pilot said. "I just hope we haven't sliced off more than we can eat here. This isn't just three planets' worth of Chig this time, you know."
"The war wasn't exactly our idea," Thrr-gilag reminded him, a twinge of almost-guilt tugging at him. Pheylan Cavanagh's insistence that the Humans hadn't started it... "Don't forget, they fired first."
"Yeah, that's what they say," the pilot said doubtfully. "Course, they might say that anyway."
"I suppose that's possible," Thrr-gilag murmured, turning to look out the window and putting his own doubts resolutely out of his mind. In a couple of tentharcs, with a little good luck, he'd know the truth about that battle.
The Kee'rr clan's ancestral territory extended across most of the fertile Kee'miss'lo River valley, from the river delta nearly to its source in the Phmm'taa Marshes. With few if any natural barriers to protect their land against outside aggression, the Kee'rr clan had been forced by necessity to become the dominant military power in the region. Political power had inevitably followed, bringing the Kee'rr up against neighboring clans in the ever-shifting patterns of alliance and betrayal and conflict that had formed the backdrop to much of Zhirrzh history. The political clashes had necessitated still more military might, which had created more political clashes, and so on.
Most of the clan and family leaders from that age had perished when theirfsss organs had been destroyed in the Second and Third Eldership Wars. Thrr-gilag had often wondered what they would have thought of the changes their successors had created.
He smiled sourly to himself, thinking back to the passengers on that suborbital transport. Members of fifty different clans, traveling freely and without restriction to and from Kee'rr territory. No, the old clan leaders wouldn't have liked this new Oaccanv at all. They probably would have reacted rather violently to the whole idea, in fact.
Was that the same social structure the Humans were now living under? Had their attack on the Zhirrzh been a reflection of the same single-minded desire for territory that had driven the Zhirrzh themselves during Oaccanv's feudal period?
"Where exactly you heading this fullarc?" the pilot asked into his musings.
"To the family shrine, to see my father," Thrr-gilag told him, turning back around. "Then out to Reeds Village to visit my mother."
"Reeds Village?" the pilot echoed, frowning at Thrr-gilag. "That's way over in, what, Frr family territory?"
"That's right," Thrr-gilag said.
There was a short pause, with the other clearly waiting for further explanation. But Thrr-gilag remained silent, and after a few beats the pilot turned back to his controls with a shrug. "All right. Well. I'll go ahead and drop you off at the Thrr shrine, then."
"You don't have to do that," Thrr-gilag said. "I can take the rail over from Cliffside Dales."
"It's no problem," the pilot insisted. "There's a landing field just outside the predator fence gate-I'll put you down there, and you can walk right in. At least it'll save you the rail trip one direction."
"I appreciate the offer," Thrr-gilag said. "But you have a schedule to meet, and I can't let you-"
"Yes, you can," the other said firmly. "Like you said, we're all in this together. I served my stint with the Etsijian encirclement force when I was younger; I want to do my bit on this one, too."
It was a little under half a thoustride from the predator-fence gate to the Thrr-family shrine itself, its towering shape partially blocked by the darker bulks of the twin protector domes that sat on either side of the ceramic-pebbled path ten strides in front of it. Twenty or more Elders popped into view at one point or another as Thrr-gilag walked toward it, looking at the visitor with expressions ranging from hopefulness to suspicion to simple curiosity. One or two of them-probably members of his branch of the family, though Thrr-gilag didn't recognize them offhand-greeted him by name before leaving. The rest simply peered at his face, decided he wasn't there to visit them, and vanished.
He was perhaps five strides from the domes when the one on the left slid open a door and a tall Zhirrzh carrying a laser rifle stepped into view. "Stand fast," he said, "and speak your name."
"I obey the Protector of Thrr Elders," Thrr-gilag gave the ritual response, stopping beside the rack ofkavra fruit that stood beside the path. "I am Thrr-gilag; Kee'rr."
"Who will prove your goodwill and intentions?"
"I will," Thrr-gilag said, taking one of thekavra and slicing it with his tongue. The ancient ceremony of trust, with the equally ancient exception: the protector of the shrine did not reciprocate.
"And who will prove your right to approach?"
"My father will," Thrr-gilag said, dropping thekavra into the disposal container beneath the rack. Like much of Zhirr
zh tradition, this whole shrine routine had come under attack lately, its mostly youthful critics ridiculing it as a wasteful and meaningless throwback to Oaccanv's violent history. Personally, Thrr-gilag had always found a certain sense of comfort and security in the ritual. "Thrr-rokik-sorry," he interrupted himself. His father was an Elder now, with the Elder suffix added to his family name. "Thrr't-rokik; Kee'rr."
A flicker of a smile crossed the protector's face. It was probably a mistake he heard all the time. "Advance, Thrr-gilag," he said, lifting the muzzle of his rifle to point to the sky. "And welcome. It's good to see you again."
"It's good to be back, Thrr-tulkoj," Thrr-gilag said, stepping up to him and gripping his arm. "I do seem to get home less and less frequently these fullarcs."
"You can't blame anyone but yourself for that one," Thrr-tulkoj pointed out, mock-seriously. "You pick a career that requires you to travel, and this is what happens."
"Now, let's not start that all over again," Thrr-gilag said, mock-warningly. The whole question of career choices had been the subject of many a long and earnest discussion when he and Thrr-tulkoj had been growing up. Over the cyclics it had evolved into something of a personal joke between them. "Anyway, it's not the travel so much as the long delays at the far end."
"Yes, well, I wouldn't know much about that," Thrr-tulkoj said. "I don't think I've gone outside Kee'rr territory three times in the past two cyclics."
"You're not missing much," Thrr-gilag assured him. "There have been plenty of times sitting in a field shelter waiting for an alien storm to blow over when I wished I'd chosen a protector's job instead."
"You'd never have made it," Thrr-tulkoj said decisively. "You're too good at thinking. And too rotten at shooting."
"Thank you so very much." Thrr-gilag looked over his friend's shoulder at the shrine. "How's he doing?" he asked quietly.
"Not too bad, really," Thrr-tulkoj said. "It's a shock, of course, for almost everyone. Takes a lot of getting used to, and of course he's only been at it for half a cyclic. But with an illness, at least, he was more or less prepared for the change. It's the ones who get unexpectedly raised to Eldership in sudden accidents who seem to have the hardest time of it."
"Yes," Thrr-gilag murmured, an edge of guilt prodding him. He really should have spent more time with his parents-should have made the time, no matter what the hectic schedule of his career. His brother, Thrr-mezaz, had certainly managed it, despite the responsibilities and demands that came with being a warrior. "How's my mother handling it?"
"Well, that's a different story entirely," Thrr-tulkoj said, his tongue flicking oddly. "But I think you'd better hear that from your father."
Thrr-gilag's tail twitched. So he'd been right: there had indeed been something behind Thrr-mezaz's words in that last conversation. "I see. Well, I'd better go call him, then."
"Stop back before you leave," Thrr-tulkoj invited, stepping back into the shelter of the dome. "Maybe we can find time to get caught up on things before you head off-planet again."
"We can certainly try," Thrr-gilag agreed. "I can't make any promises, though-my schedule's going to be pretty tight."
"Sad," Thrr-tulkoj said, flicking his tongue in mock-disappointment. "You young people growing up and leaving home..."
"Thank you, grandfather, and I'll see you later," Thrr-gilag said dryly, stepping between the domes and walking toward the shrine. Thrr-tulkoj, of course, would be seeing Thrr-gilag the whole time if he wanted to, as would whoever was playing backstop in the other dome. One of the best-kept secrets about shrine-defender domes was that, once the door was closed, they became perfectly transparent from the inside.
Easy to see through, and equally easy to fire through. Criticism of tradition there might be out there, but Elders didn't take many chances with the defense of theirfsss organs.
Up close, a family shrine was even more impressive than it was at a distance. Nearly nine strides tall-three times taller than the smaller cutting pyramid they'd had on Base World 12-it was dotted with upwards of forty thousand niches. Thrr-gilag had no idea which of them was his father's, but it really didn't matter. Right up beside the shrine like this, all the Elders would be able to hear his voice, carried directly to them through theirfsss organs. "Thrr't-rokik?" he called. "It's Thrr-gilag."
There was a flicker, and his father was there in front of him. "Hello, my son," he said, his voice faint but with its well-remembered warmth. "It's good to see you."
"And you, my father," Thrr-gilag said, the remnants of his guilt washing away in a sudden surge of emotion. His father; and yet, not really his father. His father as fragile spirit, a voice and faint image of what he'd once been, his physical body long since consigned to the fire.
His father as Elder.
Thrr-tulkoj had been right. This was going to take a lot of getting used to.
"You're looking well," Thrr't-rokik said. "I'd heard you were on Oaccanv; I'd rather expected you would get in touch with me sooner."
"I'm sorry," Thrr-gilag said. "I've been rather busy."
"So I hear." His father eyed him closely. "I also hear that not all has been going well for you."
"No." Thrr-gilag glanced up at the shrine towering above him. "That was one of the things I wanted to discuss with you."
"Well, as it happens, I'm free for the postmidarc," Thrr't-rokik said with a smile. "Shall we walk over to the bluff overview?"
To the bluff, and away from the unavoidable eavesdropping that would take place beside the shrine itself. "Certainly," Thrr-gilag said, turning and heading across the grass.
The overview was relatively modest, as such things went: a slight rise leading up to the predator fence, with the land then dropping off steeply into a rocky bluff just outside the fence. Past the edge of the bluff Thrr-gilag could see one of the minor tributaries of the Amt'bri River as it wended its casual way through the wooded plain below. Beyond the woods, some of the higher towers of the Hlim-family city of Hlimni's Glen were visible.
"The Thrr leaders are talking again about putting up a new shrine," Thrr't-rokik commented. "I've been trying to talk them into locating it down there in the woods, close enough that we could hear the river."
"They'll never do it," Thrr-gilag said. "Not that close to a river. Too much risk of flood damage."
Thrr't-rokik sniffed. "Flood damage. The Amt'bri hasn't flooded in probably two hundred cyclics. But you're right, too many people would be afraid. Sometimes I think Elders are the most timid creatures in existence."
"You can't really blame them," Thrr-gilag shrugged. "When you're that close to the unknowns of death, I suppose it's natural to try to hold on as tightly as you can."
"Perhaps," Thrr't-rokik sighed. "Personally, I think that being terrified of taking the most minuscule of chances is no way to live."
Thrr-gilag looked off across the valley. "We're certainly taking chances now," he said. "Every one of us."
"Yes," Thrr't-rokik agreed quietly. "The Human-Conquerors. You've seen them up close, Thrr-gilag. What do you think?"
"Of the Humans, or of our chances against them?"
"Either. Both."
Thrr-gilag pressed his tongue against the top of his mouth. "I don't know, Father. I really don't. They're fearsome and dangerous enemies-there's no doubt about that. But at the same time there are things about them that don't seem to fit together. Large inconsistencies in their aggressiveness level, for one thing."
"They're aliens, after all," Thrr't-rokik reminded him. "Their reasons for doing things don't have to be the same as ours."
"True," Thrr-gilag said. "But there's one other possibility: that the Humans aren't the vicious warmongers we've been led to believe."
Thrr't-rokik frowned. "What are you talking about? They attacked first."
Thrr-gilag turned again to look down at the river. "Unless the Overclan Seating and Warrior Command were wrong about that."
He could feel his father's gaze on him. "You mean mistaken?"
"Or just wrong."
For a long beat the rustling of the trees below was the only sound. Thrr-gilag kept his eyes on the valley and river, not daring to see what his father's expression might be. "You realize what you're saying," Thrr't-rokik said at last. "You're accusing the Overclan Seating of deliberately starting a war. And of then lying to the Zhirrzh people about it."
"I know," Thrr-gilag said. "Are you saying our leaders are incapable of lying?"
Thrr't-rokik snorted. "Hardly. Still, people generally lie for specific purposes. For personal gain, or to evade punishment or other trouble. What motivation would the Overclan Seating have to lie about a Human-Conqueror attack?"
"I don't know," Thrr-gilag said. "But I also can't simply dismiss the eye-witness testimony of the Human Pheylan Cavanagh. And he was apparently convinced that the Zhirrzh ships fired first."
