Conquerors 2 - Conquerors' Heritage

by Timothy Zahn

  But there was no guarantee that his voice would carry well enough against the latearc breezes for anyone to hear him. Except maybe the intruders. And if they were armed - and they almost certainly were - then at the first sign of trouble from him they would do their best to raise him to Eldership.

  Thrr-tulkoj wasn't afraid of Eldership. The threat of premature raising was supposed to come with this job. But if he was raised now, it would leave the Elders and the shrine completely defenseless.

  Steady, he told himself firmly, pressing closer against Thrr-aamr. Think it through. You're a trained protector, and you're a long way from being helpless here. Think it through.

  He should have used the loudspeaker right at the beginning, of course. In backsight that was painfully clear. But the procedures stated explicitly that the Elders were not to be alerted in cases of suspected intrusion, probably because every such incident for the past hundred cyclics had turned out to be a false alarm. Thrr-tulkoj had hit the direct-link emergency signal mounted to the side of the dome before heading over here; the fact that there hadn't yet been a response from Cliffside Dales implied that the intruders must have cut the cable somewhere before breaking in. Either that, or the system had simply fallen apart from disuse.

  The best thing would be if he could get back to the dome. The loudspeaker would let him sound the alarm, not to mention the laser protection the one-way ceramic would afford him if it came down to a battle.

  Unfortunately, nearly half a thoustride of open ground lay between him and the domes right now. Worse, he hadn't been particularly surreptitious on his way over to the fence. If the intruders had spotted him, they were undoubtedly watching and waiting for his next move. Probably with lasers already pointed his direction.

  Which left him really only one option. He would have to slip through the hole the intruders had made in the fence, make his way down the bluff and over to the rail stop near the gate, and use the direct-link installed there to sound the alert. It would be a tricky climb, and it would mean leaving the shrine undefended, but there was nothing he could do about that. Keeping a close eye on the area around the shrine, he started to ease his way around Thrr-aamr -

  And froze, listening. A new sound was drifting in to him over the latearc breezes. A transport, somewhere in the near distance.

  The reinforcements from Cliffside Dales had arrived.

  Moving his head as little as possible, Thrr-tulkoj searched the sky for the craft, a fresh surge of excitement rippling through him. Protector laser rifles were infinitely adjustable, in both intensity and spread angle, and there was a specified procedure for tuning the power and muzzle-coning down far enough to make the weapon into a safe flash-code signaler. A signaler, moreover, whose beam would be easily visible to the transport pilot and yet wouldn't sizzle the atmospheric water enough to produce emissions visible in any other direction. He could start with a simple three-two-three distress signal....

  He frowned, his hands pausing midway through the necessary adjustments. The hum of the transport's engines had choked suddenly, dissolving into the sharp crackle characteristic of a misfiring transkilmer. Was the transport in trouble? He looked around the sky again, but he couldn't spot any running lights in the direction the sound was coming from. Odd. Had the transport's optronics failed, too? No; of course, the warriors would be trying to make an invisible approach. The hum returned, crackled again; returned, crackled again; returned, crackled again -

  And then, in the middle of the last crackle, he abruptly understood. The noise wasn't coming from engine failure, at least not from unintentional engine failure. It had been deliberately created, designed for a very specific purpose.

  To cover up the sound of a fsss-niche cover being opened.

  For a beat Thrr-tulkoj's mind flashed back four fullarcs to that attempt by Thrr-gilag's mother to steal back her fsss. Thrr-pifix-a herself couldn't have climbed the bluff, certainly, but she might have found friends or relatives to do it for her.

  He glanced down at Thrr-aamr's unconscious form. No. He knew Thrr-pifix-a and her family, and none of them would ever have condoned violence of this sort against one of her shrine's protectors.

  But then who? And why?

  The transport's engines had settled down again to their normal hum, and from the sound of it, the vehicle was veering off. Apparently its sole job had been to cover the noise of the intruders opening their target niche.

  Thrr-tulkoj gripped his rifle harder, the brief flicker of hope giving way again to frustrated indecision. The intruders had one of the niches open now, with free access to the fsss organ inside. But surely the owner would have felt their touch by now and come back to investigate.

  But no Elder had yet appeared. Were they dealing with the fsss of someone who was still a physical, then?

  Again Thrr-tulkoj's thoughts flicked to Thrr-pifix-a. But again he rejected the idea that she could possibly be behind this. This was something vicious, like the bitter living-death feuds of nine hundred cyclics ago.

  He winced at the thought. Living death: the deliberate destruction of an enemy physical's fsss. The exquisite torture of leaving him to live out his physical life with the knowledge that nothing but certain death awaited him at the end of it. Such feuds had once been widespread on Oaccanv, ultimately precipitating the Second Eldership War. If someone was trying to resurrect the abominations of that era...

  He stiffened. Over at the shrine a figure had raised itself up from the ground. For a beat it stood there, silhouetted against the white ceramic. Then, crouching low, it headed across the enclosure.

  Directly toward Thrr-tulkoj.

  Thrr-tulkoj pressed his tongue hard against the inside of his mouth, quickly readjusting his laser rifle back to full power. The figure was still coming, blatantly arrogant in his presumption that no protector would dare fire on him with a shrine at his back. Lifting his laser rifle a fraction, Thrr-tulkoj peered through its sights. Right or wrong, it was time to make a move. Taking a deep breath and holding it, he settled his thumbs against the rifle's triggers.

  His only warning was a whisper of sound from above him... and by then it was too late. Too late to react; too late to move; too late to do anything but realize to his shame and chagrin that the enemy had outmaneuvered him one final time. Against the sudden hum of the returning transport came the faint flopping sound of something semirigid flying through the air toward him -

  And suddenly he was hammered flat against the ground as the black stickiness of a tar slab slammed into him.

  He dropped his weapon, turning half-over and pushing upward against the sticky, semisolid blackness. It molded itself around his hands, the sides folding gradually but inexorably in toward his body. He tried pulling his hands sideways in opposite directions, hoping to tear a hole in it. But the slab was too thick, the material too resilient, and he succeeded only in lowering the roof of the slowly shrinking cave he and Thrr-aamr were in. Desperately, he let go with one hand and grabbed for his laser rifle, swiveling it awkwardly in the cramped space and managing to get it jammed up into the tar like a tent pole. Mentally pleading for good luck, he pressed the triggers.

  The entire tar slab didn't burst into flame, as he'd feared it might. Instead, a small section around the muzzle flashed into vapor. The slab dropped inward around the new hole; holding it back with one hand, Thrr-tulkoj repositioned the rifle to another spot and fired again.

  It seemed to take forever but was probably no more than fifteen hunbeats before he had enough of the tar slab vaporized to pull himself out from under it. Breathing heavily, his tail going double time with the body heat he hadn't been able to get rid of in there, he got shakily to his feet and looked around.

  Not that there was any need to do so. The intruders and their transport were long gone, having accomplished whatever it was they'd come there to do.

  Swearing dully, he reached down and pulled Thrr-aamr partway out of the tar, making sure his face and tail were clear. Then, retrieving his rifle, he
headed across the enclosure toward the dome. It was far too late to give the alarm now - whatever the damage, it was already done. But it was still part of his job to do so.

  Very likely the last part of this job he would ever do.

  "Yes, I'm coming," Thrr-pifix-a called as the insistent knock came a second time on her door. She'd spent much of the postmidarc in her garden, and her legs had now stiffened up as she sat fussing with her decorative edgework. "I'll be there in just a hunbeat."

  Whoever was out there apparently heard her, because the knocking stopped. She made her way across the conversation room to the foyer, her legs thankfully loosening up somewhat in the process. Reaching the door, she opened it.

  There was no one there.

  Frowning, she took a half step outside, letting her lowlight and darklight pupils widen as she looked around in the darkness. No one. Some child, perhaps, up late pulling pranks? She took another half step outside, shivering in the chilly latearc air -

  Her foot kicked something solid. Frowning some more, she looked down.

  It was a small pouch, of the sort she liked to practice her edgework on, just lying there in the dirt. Bending over with some difficulty - her back had stiffened up, too - she retrieved it and stepped back into the foyer. Pulling the fastening strip open, she looked inside.

  And froze, her hands going suddenly rigid.

  It was a fsss organ.

  She hurried outside again, this time going all the way to the roadway. But Korthe and Dornt were nowhere to be seen. They must have just set the pouch and fsss down and run.

  Something in the back of Thrr-pifix-a's mind found that disturbing. But for right now it didn't seem to matter. What mattered was that they'd kept their pledge to her.

  She had her fsss.

  Slowly, she retraced her steps back into the house, closing and locking the door behind her. She had her fsss. Here, in her hands. Her own fsss. To destroy, if she so chose.

  The question was, did she now so choose?

  She groped her way to the kitchen table and sat down, staring into the open pouch as she did so, her mind a swirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions and questions. This was what she had wanted, wasn't it? Of course it was. She had her future - her life - here in her hands. All she had to do -

  And suddenly, without challenge or warning of any sort, her door slammed open.

  She spun around in her chair, the pouch somehow getting away from startled fingers. Three Zhirrzh were already in her house - big Zhirrzh, wearing the sort of warrior fighting suits she'd seen in pictures and dramas - with more of them piling in through the door behind them. All were carrying short, vicious-looking weapons; all were wearing grim expressions.

  Weapons and expressions that were pointed directly at her.

  "What's going on?" she demanded. Or rather, tried to demand. Even in her own ear slits, her voice sounded as weak and thin as that of a sickly child. "What do you want?"

  The lead warrior didn't bother to answer. Stepping into the kitchen, he reached a long arm down to the floor and retrieved the pouch she'd dropped. "Is this yours?" he asked, his voice as cold as the latearc air as he held it up.

  For the first time Thrr-pifix-a focused on the pouch itself. To find, to her utter amazement, that it was indeed hers. There was her edgework, plain as a sunny fullarc, edgework she'd completed not five fullarcs ago.

  But how in the eighteen worlds had it wound up at her door?

  The warrior was still waiting for an answer. "Yes," she murmured, still staring at the pouch. Korthe or Dornt must have stolen it. That was the only explanation. They must have stolen it while they were here last fullarc. Without her even noticing.

  "And this," the warrior said, holding it open for her inspection. "You want to tell us what you're doing with this?"

  Thrr-pifix-a stared up at his face, a horrible twisting sensation knifing through her. Suddenly, suddenly, it was clear. She'd been set up. For whatever reason, she'd been set up. "I didn't take it," she whispered. "It was two young male Zhirrzh. Korthe and Dornt, they called themselves. They said they were members of an organization called Freedom of Decision for All."

  "Uh-huh," the first warrior grunted, handing the pouch to another warrior. "Korthe and Dornt, from Freedom of Decision for All. Right."

  "It's true," Thrr-pifix-a insisted. "Really. They said they'd get my fsss for me. And they did."

  "And did they happen to mention to you that fsss theft is a grand-first felony?" another warrior put in harshly.

  "That's enough," the first warrior said before Thrr-pifix-a could stammer an answer. "We'll check it out. In the meantime - " He fixed Thrr-pifix-a with cold eyes. "Thrr-pifix-a; Kee'rr, you're hereby charged with grand-first theft and placed under detention. By authority of the Overclan."

  Thrr-pifix-a squeezed her eyes shut. She made no comment, offered no resistance, as they helped her up and took her out into the cold latearc air.

  The messenger turned and left the chambers, closing the door behind her. "Well?" the Prime asked as Cvv-panav opened the message. Though he was pretty sure he already knew what was in it.

  He was right. "As expected," Cvv-panav said, tossing the message casually onto the desk in front of the Prime. "My people have completed their mission." He eyed the Prime, his expression just short of gloating. "Without any successful interference from either the Thrr protectors or your warriors."

  "As I've already told you, my warriors weren't there to interfere," the Prime reminded him.

  "Of course they weren't," Cvv-panav said. "Well. According to this, my people observed your warriors enter Thrr-pifix-a's house and take her away in a transport. You should be getting a report on that yourself before long."

  "No doubt," the Prime agreed. In actual fact the report had already come in, transmitted via the direct-link to his reader nearly ten hunbeats ago. But Cvv-panav didn't have to know that. "I presume that finishes the latearc's excitement. You'll be going home now, I expect."

  Cvv-panav eyed him. "Unless you're ready to tell me about the weapon called CIRCE."

  The Prime flicked his tongue in a negative. "CIRCE is a warrior secret, Speaker. As I've already told you."

  "And as I've already told you, you'll tell me or you'll tell the entire Overclan Seating," Cvv-panav countered. "And all the Elders who'll be listening. I'm not bluffing."

  "You'd threaten to bring down the entire Overclan system in the middle of a war?" the Prime asked.

  "Why not?" Cvv-panav shot back. "You were prepared this latearc to destroy me and alienate the entire Dhaa'rr clan from the Overclan."

  "The warriors were not there - "

  "Spare me," Cvv-panav cut him off, standing up. "You've got until the Overclan Seating session next postmidarc to tell me about CIRCE. After that what happens will be on your own shoulders, Overclan Prime."

  Without waiting for a reply he turned and stalked out of the chambers, slamming the door behind him.

  "Well," the Eighteenth commented in the sudden silence. "That seemed to go well."

  "Or at least as expected," the Prime said, unclenching his hands.

  The Eighteenth peered at him. "You're not worried, are you?" he asked. "Everything's worked out exactly as planned."

  "Except for how he's going to react," the Prime said, gesturing in the direction Cvv-panav had gone. "He's got enough pride and stubbornness for any six Zhirrzh. What if he doesn't fold?"

  "He will," the Eighteenth assured him. "He'll fold because he's also ambitious. Ambitious Zhirrzh do not bring the target of their ambitions down in flames around them. Not if there are any other options still remaining."

  "He won't forget this, though," the Prime said. "There'll be more trouble with him down the line."

  "We have the Human-Conquerors arrayed against us," the Eighteenth reminded him grimly. "Under the circumstances I think one vindictive Clan Speaker will be the least of our worries."

  The Prime nodded. "I hope so. Still... you never know."

  19
>
  The doors of both domes opened simultaneously, and two protectors stepped out to flank the flagstone path, their laser rifles at the ready. "This is it," Klnn-dawan-a murmured. "You ready?"

  "As ready as I'm going to be," Thrr-gilag murmured from beside her. "I just hope this works. If it doesn't, we're going to be in a lot of trouble."

  Klnn-dawan-a nodded silently. Actually, even if it did work, there was going to be a lot of trouble. It would merely fall in on them a little later.

  But the option was to do nothing and let Prr't-zevisti die. If the Human-Conquerors hadn't killed him already.

  "Halt and stand," the protector on the left said in the words of the ancient Dhaa'rr ritual. "Speak your names to the protectors of the Prr."

  "We obey the protectors of the Prr," Klnn-dawan-a said, stopping between the twin racks of kavra fruit that flanked the path. "I am Klnn-dawan-a; Dhaa'rr."

  "I am Thrr-gilag," Thrr-gilag said. "Kee'rr."

  It seemed to Klnn-dawan-a that the protectors lifted their rifles just a little higher at Thrr-gilag's non-Dhaa'rr clan name. "How do you prove your goodwill?" the first protector demanded.

  "With the rite of the kavra," Klnn-dawan-a said, selecting one of the fruit from the rack and slicing it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Thrr-gilag doing likewise. "We stand now defenseless before the protectors of Prr," she continued, dropping the lacerated kavra into the disposal container.

  The protectors had watched the whole operation closely. Particularly Thrr-gilag's part of it. "And who will offer you welcome?" the first protector asked.

  "A friend and colleague," Klnn-dawan-a said. "Prr't-casst-a; Dhaa'rr."

  The protector frowned. "Advance, Klnn-dawan-a," he said, lowering his rifle to not quite point at them. "What do you mean by calling her a colleague?"

  "We're doing a small sensory experiment with fsss organs," Klnn-dawan-a explained as she stepped away from Thrr-gilag and over to the protectors. "Prr't-casst-a has graciously volunteered to be one of our test subjects."

  "What sort of experiment?" the second protector growled. "And do you have authorization?"