by Timothy Zahn
"Who will prove your goodwill and intentions?"
"I will," Thrr-gilag said, taking one of the kavra 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 the kavra into the disposal container beneath the rack. Like much of Zhirrzh 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 their fsss 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 their fsss 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 sam
e 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."
Thrr't-rokik snorted. "You accuse your own leaders of lying yet assume a vicious would-be conqueror would tell you the truth?"
"I know it seems backward," Thrr-gilag conceded. "But he hung strongly to his story the whole time he was our prisoner. Longer than I would expect someone who knows he is lying would do."
For another few beats Thrr't-rokik was silent. "You're not just telling me all this to hear my opinions on the subject. What is it you want?"
Thrr-gilag braced himself. "Two of those survey ships were Kee'rr. I was hoping you could arrange for me to talk to one of the Elders who was aboard."
"I was afraid that was it," Thrr't-rokik said heavily. "Do you have any idea of the penalties involved with that sort of unauthorized communication?"
"I'm willing to take the risk," Thrr-gilag said.
"I wasn't thinking of your risk," Thrr't-rokik retorted icily. "I was thinking of the other Elder's. If Warrior Command caught him talking privately about sensitive warrior matters, they could summarily take his communicator position away from him. Are you willing to have that on your conscience?"
"Not really," Thrr-gilag said, feeling ashamed that that aspect hadn't even occurred to him. With fsss-cutting techniques had come an exponential explosion in the number of jobs available for Elders, everything from the simple participation in interstellar communication pathways to the more demanding professional roles of planetary explorer or searcher assistant. But such jobs still numbered only in the low billions; and with well over three hundred billion Elders clamoring for some way to fill their time, the permanent loss of a job was not a threat to be taken lightly. "I'm sorry. I should have thought about that."
There was another pause. "This is very important to you, isn't it, my son?" Thrr't-rokik asked, his voice gentle again.
"Yes," Thrr-gilag said. "And worth a fair amount of risk. But for me, not for someone else."
Thrr't-rokik sighed, a whisper against the background breezes. "Wait here. I'll see what I can do."
He vanished. Thrr-gilag leaned against the predator fence, gazing out again at the woods and river. The woods, the river, and the never-ending problem of what to do with the ever-growing number of Elders.
On one side it could be seen as a simple problem of storage. The shrine towering behind him had enough niches for forty thousand fsss organs, and it had taken the Thrr family nearly two hundred cyclics to fill it to capacity. Another shrine, wherever it was put up, would probably do them for two centuries more.
But on the other side it was an incredibly complex issue, a problem that sliced through to the very soul of Zhirrzh culture. In generations past all Zhirrzh had lived comfortably together, with Elders moving freely through the homes and lives of their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. For many of the Elders that was the way it had always been and thus the way it should continue to be.
But nothing ever remained the same, not even with the weight of a thousand cyclics of tradition bearing down on it. And as the basic underlying conception of Zhirrzh society was changing, so too was the view of the Elders' role in it.
There was a flicker and Thrr't-rokik was back, another Elder at his side. "This is my son, Searcher Thrr-gilag," Thrr't-rokik said, gesturing to Thrr-gilag with his tongue. "He was one of the alien-research group studying the Human-Conqueror prisoner. This" - he gestured to his companion - "is Bvee't-hibbin, a distant cousin of your mother's line. He's one of the communicators aboard the Far Searcher."
Thrr-gilag felt his tail speed up. One of the four survey ships that had been in that first contact with the Humans. "Honored to meet you," he said.
"Yes," Bvee't-hibbin said, running an obviously critical eye over Thrr-gilag. "So you're the one. Perhaps you don't care, Searcher, but I consider you personally responsible for the fact that one of my great-great-nephews has arrived prematurely at the family shrine."
"Yes, I know," Thrr-gilag said, wincing again with painful memory of his failure. "Seven others were also raised to Eldership in the Humans' attack."
"Did you know as well that he is still without sanity?" Bvee't-hibbin demanded. "Seven fullarcs since his arrival, and he's still twisted in shock. Seven fullarcs; and no one will predict for his family when he'll be recovered."
"You can hardly blame Thrr-gilag for that," Thrr't-rokik put in gently. "Base World Twelve is two hundred fifty light-cyclics from Oaccanv. Drawn from such a distance, it was inevitable that his initial anchoring would be severely traumatic. It's the price we pay for our expansion to the stars."
The anger drained from Bvee't-hibbin's face, leaving only weariness behind. "Perhaps it's too high a price, Thrr't-rokik," he said with a whisper of a sigh. "Perhaps some fullarc we'll stretch too far and condemn new Elders to a madness that will never end."
"Perhaps," Thrr't-rokik said. "But that limit is still well beyond our current knowledge. If it exists at all. For myself, I have a great faith in the strength and resilience of the Zhirrzh spirit."
"Perhaps." Bvee't-hibbin seemed to draw himself together again. "I'm told you have questions, Searcher Thrr-gilag. What is it you wish to know that only I can tell you?"
"I spent a great deal of time with the Human prisoner, Communicator," Thrr-gilag said. "It was his contention that the Zhirrzh ships, not his, were the aggressors at the battle."
Bvee't-hibbin snorted. "And you believe an alien instead of your own leaders?"
"I want to make sure no mistake has been made," Thrr-gilag countered.
"Then listen and believe, Searcher Thrr-gilag," Bvee't-hibbin said bluntly. "I was there... and the Human-Conquerors most certainly attacked first."
"You're sure of that?" Thrr't-rokik asked.
"When a warcraft sweeps focused Elderdeath weapons across your fsss cutting, it can hardly be mistaken for anything else," Bvee't-hibbin snapped. "And you'd both better hope you never have to feel that kind of pain yourselves."
His gaze drifted away. "It never stopped," he said, his voice almost too soft to hear. "Never. Their warcraft blanketed the whole region with the pain, their explosive missiles drove focused cones of it ahead of them - even after they were defeated and their warcraft burned to dust, they didn't let up the attack."
He looked up out of the memories at Thrr-gilag. "All except your prisoner. Alone of all of them he voluntarily shut off his Elderdeath weapon. That was what caught our commanders' notice in the first place. That, along with the fact that he was trying to move his spacecraft out of the battle region. Our ship commanders interpreted that as evidence of below-average aggression and decided to take him for further study."
His mouth twisted. "You saw how well that decision turned out."
Thrr-gilag nodded, a
bitter taste beneath his tongue. So that was that. Pheylan Cavanagh had indeed known about the Elderdeath weapons - obviously, since he'd shut his off. And he'd been lying about it the whole time. "I see," he murmured.
"Was there anything else?" Bvee't-hibbin asked.
"No," Thrr-gilag said. Pheylan Cavanagh had lied to him. Somehow he still couldn't believe it. "Thank you, Bvee't-hibbin. I and my family are in your debt and your family's."
"I wouldn't commit your family to too much if I were you," Bvee't-hibbin suggested, the first hint of humor peeking through his stiff manner. "Particularly not with the trouble you're in right now. I wish you good luck, though. If only for the honor of the Kee'rr."
"Thank you," Thrr-gilag said dryly. "I'll do my best not to let the Kee'rr down."
"Farewell." Bvee't-hibbin nodded and vanished.
"Does that set your fears at rest?" Thrr't-rokik asked.
"I suppose," Thrr-gilag said reluctantly. "Now if I could just answer the question of whether or not the Humans have Elders of their own."
"Yes, I heard about the stir you caused in the Overclan Seating with that suggestion," Thrr't-rokik said. "Do you really believe that might be true, or were you just trying to carve a slice out of their complacence?"
"I certainly wasn't trying to slice anything," Thrr-gilag said. "Whether there's any truth to it, I really don't know."
"Their use of Elderdeath weapons doesn't necessarily mean anything," his father pointed out. "All the alien races the Zhirrzh have encountered have attacked us that same way, and yet none of them have had Elders."
"I know," Thrr-gilag said. "But there's more. The fact that they used the Elderdeath weapons directly against the study group's pyramid on Study World Eighteen, for example, implies they knew what they were doing. Plus that fsss-sized incision in the Human prisoner's lower torso, which has yet to be explained. That was one of the reasons I didn't want him killed during his escape attempt, by the way. If they have Elders, that would merely have sent him back home."
"Yes," Thrr't-rokik said thoughtfully. "And of course there was the theft of Prr't-zevisti's fsss cutting from the Dorcas beachhead."
