Conquerors 2 - Conquerors' Heritage

by Timothy Zahn

  And standing off to one side, Thrr-gilag spotted someone else, someone he hadn't seen for several cyclics. Gll-borgiv, an alien specialist from the Dhaa'rr clan.

  "Searcher Nzz-oonaz will perform the interrogation," the Prime said as a technic by the door handed each of the newcomers a translator-link earphone. They crossed to the dome, a respectful path opening up for them through the crowd as they did so. For a few beats the Prime gazed at the aliens, then nodded to Nzz-oonaz. "You may begin."

  "I obey, Overclan Prime," Nzz-oonaz said, sounding more than a little nervous. "During their brief conscious period back on Base World Twelve we established that they spoke at least some of the language of our Human prisoner. I'll try that first."

  He pressed a little more closely against the dome and cleared his throat self-consciously. "Aliens of the Mrachani," he said in the Human language. "I am Nzz-oonaz; Flii'rr. Can you hear me?"

  For a dozen beats nothing happened. Then, slowly, one of the aliens opened his eyes. "I hear," he said, his voice almost too soft to hear. A beat later the words were echoed by the translator-link in Thrr-gilag's ear slits. "I am Uhraus. Ambassador to your people from the Mrachanis."

  "Did he say ambassador?" Hgg-spontib muttered from beside Thrr-gilag, pressing his translator-link tighter against the side of his head.

  "Yes," Thrr-gilag confirmed, frowning at the aliens. Yet according to the warriors who'd captured it, the alien spacecraft had opened fire on them with the same Elderdeath weapons the Humans had used.

  Nzz-oonaz was obviously thinking along the same lines. "Do Mrachani ambassadors usually attack unknown spacecraft on sight?" he demanded.

  For another few beats the Mrachani's gaze seemed to drift around the crowd gathered before him. Almost, Thrr-gilag thought oddly, like a dramatist measuring an audience before beginning his performance. "We came to bring warning," the alien sighed at last, closing his eyes tiredly. "And to offer the assistance of the Mrachanis in your struggle against the Mirnacheem-hyeea."

  Nzz-oonaz threw Thrr-gilag a questioning look. Thrr-gilag flicked his tongue in a negative: the word didn't mean anything to him. "What is this Mirnacheem-hyeea you speak of?" Nzz-oonaz asked.

  "The Mirnacheem-hyeea are those who attempt to dominate all within their reach," the Mrachani said. "In their language the name means Conquerors Without Reason." He opened his eyes, closed them again. "The Humans."

  Conquerors Without Reason. Thrr-gilag let the words roll around in his mind, tasting the implications. Ominous implications, indeed.

  "We appreciate your warning," Nzz-oonaz said. "What assistance do the Mrachanis offer?"

  "The Mrachanis need your help," the alien murmured, his voice fading even further. "We need your - " He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Help."

  "What assistance do the Mrachanis offer?" Nzz-oonaz repeated.

  There was no answer. "Healer?" Nzz-oonaz asked, looking over his shoulder at one of the consoles.

  "He's gone back to sleep," the healer reported. "And their metabolic efficiency appears to be dropping again. Shall I attempt to awaken them?"

  Nzz-oonaz looked at the Prime. "Overclan Prime?"

  The Prime was gazing at the aliens, his face hard. "How much risk would there be to their lives, Healer?"

  "I don't know," the healer admitted. "We still know very little about their biochemistry."

  "We won't risk it, then," the Prime said. "Let them sleep, and we'll continue the interrogation later. I want a full watch to be kept, healers and Elders both."

  "I obey," the healer said. Gesturing to a technic, he began issuing orders.

  Cvv-panav took a step closer to the Prime. "I should like to continue our discussion of last fullarc, Overclan Prime," he said. Quietly, but with a note of insistence in his voice.

  "No need," the Prime said, turning to Hgg-spontib. "I'm sure Speaker Hgg-spontib will not argue that this contact has grown far beyond the proprietary rights of the clans who first contacted the Humans." He looked over at the sleeping aliens. "Or perhaps we should call them the Human-Conquerors," he amended grimly. "It appears that would be a more appropriate name. At any rate, I'm assigning Gll-borgiv; Dhaa'rr, to this study group."

  "I protest, of course," Hgg-spontib said. "The Dhaa'rr have yet to suffer any damage at the hands of either of these alien species. If any new searchers are added, they should be from the Cakk'rr, who at least have the claim of having captured these Mrachanis for us."

  "I've already discussed the matter with the Speaker for Cakk'rr," Cvv-panav put in. "There is no searcher of the Cakk'rr of adequate expertise. She has therefore agreed to defer to the Dhaa'rr in this matter." His tongue twitched. "As the Overclan Prime said earlier, nothing connected with a war can be considered the exclusive property of a single family or clan."

  Thrr-gilag pressed the tip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, keeping his mouth firmly shut. The Zhirrzh alien-specialist community was a reasonably small group, and he could name at least three Cakk'rr experts right off the end of his tongue who would be capable of working with the Mrachanis. Clearly, putting a Dhaa'rr on the group was a political decision, not a scientific one.

  "The Kee'rr still protest," Hgg-spontib said in the tone of one who knows a lost battle when he's lost it. "And what of Searcher Thrr-gilag?"

  "The Dhaa'rr insist on a full investigation," Cvv-panav put in before the Prime could answer. "The escape of the Human - the Human-Conqueror - must be properly examined."

  "Your insistence is premature," the Prime told him. "An inquiry board is examining all the records from Base World Twelve. Until they come to a decision, Searcher Thrr-gilag will be permitted to observe all proceedings involving the Mrachani aliens."

  "But not to speak to them," Cvv-panav insisted.

  "Proper protocol will of course be followed," the Prime said. "He may offer questions through Searcher Nzz-oonaz." He looked at Thrr-gilag. "Do you accept these limitations?"

  As if he had a real choice. "I do," Thrr-gilag said, a flush of shame twitching through his tail. Svv-selic had let Too'rr domination of this mission slip from his grasp by letting the Human prisoner get too close to the Elders' pyramid. Now Thrr-gilag's mistake had similarly lost the speakership for the Kee'rr clan.

  How long would it be, he wondered, before Nzz-oonaz made his mistake and Cvv-panav demanded that Gll-borgiv and the Dhaa'rr take charge? He doubted it would be very long.

  "You look as if you have something else to say, Searcher," Cvv-panav said, an edge of challenge to his voice.

  "No," Thrr-gilag said, resolutely turning away. Arguing any of this would just give them an excuse to throw him off the mission completely. "With the Overclan Prime's permission, I'd like to leave the complex for a time."

  "What of the aliens?" the Prime asked. "If they should awaken, you'd be needed."

  So at least the Prime still thought of him as a useful part of the group, even if Cvv-panav didn't. That was something, anyway. "If our shipboard experiences are a guide, they should sleep at least four or five tentharcs," Thrr-gilag said.

  "Very well," the Prime said. "You may leave, but I don't want you more than a few hunbeats away from this room. And be certain to update your location with the servers at the Overclan shrine."

  "I obey," Thrr-gilag said. He turned away, easing through the crowd toward the door -

  "One other thing," the Prime's voice said quietly from beside him.

  Thrr-gilag looked over, a bit startled. He hadn't realized the Prime had followed him. "Yes, Overclan Prime?"

  "There are certain things you and your group are aware of that have not been released to the general Zhirrzh public," the Prime said.

  Thrr-gilag winced. Yes; Prr't-zevisti. "I understand fully," he assured the Prime. "I'll be careful not to say anything outside the complex."

  "I'm sure you understand the sort of thing I'm talking about," the Prime went on as if he hadn't spoken. "Stories that would spread rumors and fear. Panic, even, particularly among those who are un
aware of the full scope of the countermeasures Warrior Command is taking." He gazed hard at Thrr-gilag. "And I don't refer only to those outside the Overclan complex."

  Thrr-gilag frowned at him. What in the eighteen worlds was the Prime getting at?

  And then, abruptly, he got it. CIRCE. The Humans' ultimate weapon. Long ago disassembled, according to the captured Human recorder, with its components scattered among several planets of their empire for safekeeping. If they were allowed the time to collect those components and reassemble them once more into a functioning weapon...

  The Prime was still studying his face. "You understand," he said.

  "Yes," Thrr-gilag said, his tongue flicking in a shiver. He understood, all right. If even a hint leaked out at this point that their enemies had a weapon against which there might not be any defense at all...

  He looked sharply at the Prime, the other's almost offhanded comment suddenly registering. Not only those outside the Overclan complex... "May I inquire," he asked carefully, "who among the Zhirrzh are aware of this aspect?"

  "I am," the Prime said. "So are a handful of the supreme commanders at Warrior Command, the former Overclan Primes, and perhaps thirty other high-security Elders. Plus your alien-study group, of course."

  Thrr-gilag pressed his tongue hard against the inside of his mouth. "And the Overclan Seating?"

  The Prime didn't flinch. "It would not be advisable for them to know as yet."

  "I see," Thrr-gilag murmured. Suddenly it all made sense, this mad rush to throw beachheads and encirclement forces at the Human worlds. Warrior Command wasn't looking for territory to conquer; it was trying desperately to capture or entrap one or more of CIRCE's components before the Humans could gather them together.

  And in the meantime the Overclan Prime was trying equally hard to prevent Zhirrzh society from exploding into hysterical terror at the thought of the potential genocide facing them. And if that meant hiding the truth from even the Overclan Seating, then that was what they were going to do.

  "You understand the situation," the Prime said. "I could lock you and the others away somewhere, but that would attract unwelcome attention and questions. So for the time being you're free to move about; but be assured that if you tell anyone about this thing, you and your whole family will suffer greatly. Do you understand?"

  "I do," Thrr-gilag managed. "And if I may say so, Overclan Prime, there's no need to make threats. I understand as well as you the need to avoid a panic."

  "Just so long as we understand each other," the Prime said. "Where exactly will you be going right now?"

  "Just to get something to eat," Thrr-gilag said. "There's a place nearby called the Lapper's Paradise I thought I'd try."

  "Very well," the Prime said. "But I meant what I said about staying close to the complex. These Mrachani aliens may hold the key to our survival against the Human-Conquerors."

  Survival. Previous Overclan Primes throughout history, facing other aggressive alien races, had spoken not of survival but of victory. Or so the histories said.

  But then, none of their other alien enemies had ever had a weapon like CIRCE. "I understand," Thrr-gilag said quietly. "I'll be close."

  3

  The Lapper's Paradise, Thrr-gilag had once heard, claimed to be the largest and best patronized full-service tavern in all of the eighteen worlds. He didn't know whether that was literally true, but certainly the establishment had both the floor space and the population base to take a good slash at the title. Located just across the main public thoroughfare that ran past the west side of the Overclan complex, the Paradise drew from the Speakers and aides of the Overclan Seating as well as from the population of Unity City itself, a population made up largely of the Overclan family members who served as the complex's permanent staff. From the way the crowd was packing into the tavern, it looked as if a goodly slice of that population was already there. Drinking, eating, and talking.

  And worried sick. Thrr-gilag could hear the fear in the nervous laughter; could see it in the serious faces huddled together across tables; could smell it in the glycerol- and sweat-scented air.

  Somewhere out there, in the blackness of space, the Humans were waiting. Powerful, deadly, and ruthless... and gathering for war.

  Thrr-gilag sipped at his drink, looking around the tavern and listening to snatches of passing conversations as he marveled once again at the incredible speed of information flow that the Zhirrzh culture was capable of. He'd done his searcher thesis on general information dissemination among the cultures of the four known alien races, and in none of them had he found anything to compare with this vast informal network of Elders - one reason, his thesis had concluded, that the Zhirrzh had always been able to defeat the spacefaring races who attacked them.

  But the Human empire was far larger than anything the Zhirrzh had faced before. And if the Humans had an Elder network of their own...

  "Thrr-gilag?" a voice called from behind him.

  Thrr-gilag turned around. Beckoning him over from a small group seated together around one of the tables was Nzz-oonaz. Picking up his drink, Thrr-gilag slid off his bar couch and went over. "Thought that was you," Nzz-oonaz said, indicating an empty couch across the table from him. "Join us?"

  "Sure," Thrr-gilag said, easing past the other Zhirrzh and seating himself. "I'm surprised to find you here - I'd have thought you'd be standing over our prisoners."

  "They're sleeping quite soundly," Nzz-oonaz said. "I decided I could risk leaving for a while." His tongue flicked sourly. "Besides, Gll-borgiv seems to have things well under control."

  "Taking over, is he?"

  "He's trying," Nzz-oonaz said. "Him and the whole Dhaa'rr clan, from Speaker Cvv-panav on down. Actually, I'm half-inclined to let them have the mess. See how far they can get with it."

  Thrr-gilag looked around the group. All of them were young members of the Overclan staff, he saw now, wearing the jumpsuits and insignia threads of assorted service positions within the complex. An admiring entourage of overawed youngsters? Or were they a quiet protector escort, here to make sure no one mentioned the name CIRCE? "From what I've heard of Speaker Cvv-panav, he'd probably enjoy the challenge," he commented.

  "I'm sure he would," Nzz-oonaz said with a grimace. "Right up to the point where it rose up and strangled him." He took a sip from his cup. "I don't like this, Thrr-gilag. None of it. Especially this whole Mrachani business."

  "Anything specific?"

  "The whole thing strikes me as just a little too simplistic," Nzz-oonaz said. "They fire on the Cakk'rr ship with Elderdeath weapons but completely ignore my question as to why. They sleep practically the whole way back from Base World Twelve - which conveniently keeps them from having to answer any questions, you'll note - coming out of it just long enough to let us know they speak the Human language. We get here, and again they come up just long enough to deliver a plea for help before dropping back down again. You'd think that after four fullarcs they'd be healing and getting stronger, but you wouldn't know it from their behavior or metabolic readings."

  Thrr-gilag thought about that. The complete lack of communication with the Mrachanis during the trip here had bothered him, too. "Still, it's not completely unreasonable," he said. "Without a biochemical/metabolic baseline, there's really no way to know how bad their injuries are."

  Nzz-oonaz grunted. "Yes. Again, how convenient for them."

  "You think they're spies for the Human-Conquerors, Searcher?" one of the Overclan youths asked.

  "That's one possibility," Nzz-oonaz said. "Another is that they're fish lures, sent here to spin us this tale of a subjugated people eager to recruit allies. We go to their aid, and they promptly turn around and slice us in the neck. We've certainly done that sort of thing often enough to each other."

  For a few hunbeats no one spoke. Thrr-gilag sipped at his drink, listening to the swirl of other conversations as he looked around the tavern. It was a mixed lot there this postmidarc, with little if any attention being paid to
the old traditional standards of social and clan stratification that used to be the norm of Zhirrzh society. Construction and maintenance workers, professional people like searchers and advocates, even a scattering of warriors from the Unity City bases - all sitting or standing and drinking together. Over and through it all floated a mobile cloud of Elders, listening or joining in the conversations or just watching. Some scrutinized the unseemly mixing of social strata with undisguised disapproval; others watched the eating and drinking with wistfulness or equally undisguised envy.

  Mostly, though, their expressions seemed to match those of the physicals around them. Like everyone else, the Elder community was worried.

  "Perhaps we're being too cynical," another of the Overclan youths at the table said. "Perhaps the Mrachanis are being completely sincere. I can see where these Human-Conquerors would be pretty terrifying to everyone."

  Thrr-gilag looked at the grim expression on Nzz-oonaz's face. If you only knew the half of it, he thought silently at the youth. "I'm sure we'll find out firsthand about that soon enough," he said aloud. "Speaking of Human attacks, Nzz-oonaz, has anyone been able to confirm yet whether the warcraft that hit the pyramid on Study World Eighteen were the same ones that hit us five tentharcs later?"

  "I doubt it," Nzz-oonaz said. "From what I've heard, the pyramid on Study World Eighteen had mostly construction and structural engineer types aboard, there to study the ruins of that city. They didn't have any actual alien specialists along."

  Thrr-gilag nodded heavily. Which meant there'd been no one there with the training to sort out the fine details of a specific alien's face or body type or stance, or who could memorize the unintelligible wing markings on an alien warcraft. "Typical," he said to Nzz-oonaz.

  "You got that right," Nzz-oonaz grunted. "Bored Elders falling all over each other looking for something to do, but no one thought about putting an alien specialist's fsss cutting out there."

  Thrr-gilag flicked his tongue. "Backsight is always so much clearer," he reminded the other. "Any idea which clan was running that pyramid?"