by Timothy Zahn
He stepped out of the doorway. Silently, Bronski led the way into the room.
It was a conversation room, small but neatly furnished. To the right of the doorway, lying unconscious amid a scattered agglomeration of kindling that had probably once been a side table, was another Bhurt. In the center of the room stood the third Avuire, Brislimab, exuding the same unidentified aroma as Mitliriab.
Sitting on the floor at his feet, huddling like a frightened hamster beneath the Avuire's glare, was a Mrachani.
"Well, well," Bronski said conversationally. "What have we here?"
"It is a Mrachani," Mitliriab said. "As a representative uf the Human Cummunwealth, I hereby infurm yu uf his use uf diargulates against the Avuire citizen Piltariab."
"What are diargulates?" Cavanagh murmured.
"Fragrance exhilarants," Bronski said, his voice suddenly gone very cold. "A subtle Avuirlian equivalent of hard narcotics. You have a cross-star license to dispense drugs, Mrachani?"
"This is all a terrible mistake," the Mrachani moaned. His tone was that of a helpless, terrified child, and despite himself Cavanagh felt a stirring of sympathy deep within him.
"Really," Bronski said. If he was feeling any of the same sympathy, it didn't show. "Let me guess. A group of big, nasty Bhurtala kidnapped you and brought you to Granparra. Then, when Piltariab showed up with a message from Lord Cavanagh, they forced you to mix up a concoction that would eat into his brain, making him so eager to come back and smell it again that he'd kidnap Cavanagh if necessary and bring him here. But instead of Cavanagh, Piltariab brought two other Avuirli, who recognized the smell of diargulates, pounded your jailer into the floor, and jumped to the totally unwarranted conclusion that you were actually the one calling the shots. Am I close?"
The Mrachani seemed to shrink farther into himself. "I am so afraid. Please, Liaison Bronski, you must believe me."
"It is nut an unwarranted cunclusiun, Liaisun Brunski," Mitliriab insisted. "We have seen the chemical vials. They are marked with Mrach symbuls."
"Oh, I believe you," Bronski assured him. "That was what we humans call sarcasm. I'm sure that when we check over the groundcar Kolchin borrowed, we'll be able to connect it to the Mrachanis, too."
"What then du yu plan tu du?" Mitliriab persisted.
"Well, I'm only an assistant liaison," Bronski said. "I don't personally have any police power. Let me talk to someone on the Myrmidon Platform, see what kind of deal I can work out."
Mitliriab's aroma turned peppermint pine. "I du nut wish any deals wurked uut," he growled. "This was an illegal actiun, and an attack against an Avuirlian citizen - "
"Lord Cavanagh?"
Cavanagh turned to find Kolchin's head poking around the corner of the entrance hallway. "Yes?"
"Would you and Liaison Bronski step this way a moment?" Kolchin said. "There's something back here I think you ought to see."
"Certainly," Bronski said. "You Avuirli stay here, please, and keep an eye on the Mrachani and Bhurt. Don't worry - we'll make this right."
They followed Kolchin to what looked to be a small storage area at the back of the house. "I noticed this when I came through here on my way to borrow the Mrachani's getaway groundcar, but I didn't have time for a close look," he said, walking over to a crate whose markings indicated it contained Bhurtist foodstuffs. Lying on top of the crate was a small, flat metal box. "I came back and checked just now," he continued, picking up the box and handing it to Cavanagh.
Cavanagh turned the box over in his hands. To all outward appearances it was just a standard commercial card carrier. "I take it you haven't tried opening it?" he asked, handing the box to Bronski.
"No, I thought I'd let Bronski take care of that part," Kolchin said. "Under the circumstances I suspect it's designed to go bang if the wrong person opens it."
"Or at least erase everything on the cards inside," Bronski said. For a moment he peered closely at the edge of the box, angling it toward the light. Then, with a shrug, he handed it back to Kolchin -
And suddenly the brigadier's flechette pistol was in his hand, pointed at Cavanagh's chest. "I'll take your gun, Kolchin," he said quietly. "Yours too, Cavanagh. Pull them out - two fingers only, please - and set them down on the floor. Then step back against the wall."
Cavanagh looked at Kolchin, found the bodyguard looking back at him, and shook his head. "I thought we'd moved beyond this phase," he said to Bronski, pulling his flechette pistol out as instructed and lowering it to the floor.
"Maybe you did," Bronski said, waiting until the two of them were standing against the storage-room wall before crouching down and retrieving their weapons. "I didn't. Like I told you on Mra-mig, I can't afford to trust you to keep your mouths shut."
Cavanagh felt his stomach muscles tighten. "What does that mean?"
"That part's up to you," Bronski said. "Cooperate, and you'll sit out the war with Taurin Lee and your man Hill for company. Don't cooperate, and we may have to arrange a more permanent kind of silence."
Cavanagh glanced at Kolchin. Back on Mra-mig, the young bodyguard had managed to get the drop on Bronski. If he could do so again...
"And if I were you, I wouldn't count on Kolchin pulling any more rabbits out of his hat," Bronski continued, as if reading Cavanagh's train of thought. "He got lucky on Mra-mig. He won't get lucky again."
"Peacekeeper commandos make their own luck, Brigadier," Kolchin said softly. "That was my drill instructor's favorite saying."
"Really," Bronski said. "My DI's favorite was that luck scales directly to experience... and for the record I had three times as many years in the commandos as you did. I suggest you think about that."
"So what happens now?" Cavanagh asked.
"Three things," Bronski said. "One: you finally get that other cuff attached to Kolchin's wrist. Two: I whistle up some Peacekeepers from the Myrmidon Platform to pick up the Mrachani and any Bhurtala who are still worth picking up. And three" - his mouth tightened - "we head back to my ship and try to open that box."
"As it happened, it was all pretty straightforward," Kolchin said. "Bhurtala might be fast in the long stretch, but they can't change direction worth anything. I just pulled over one of those garbage bins in front of him; and when he came leaping over it, I ducked under him and headed out the other end of the alley." He smiled tightly. "Just in time to almost run square into the other two as they came around the corner."
"That must have been thrilling," Cavanagh said, trying hard to keep his mind on Kolchin's story instead of on the flat box Bronski was working on two meters away from where he and Kolchin sat wristcuffed to wall mounts. The almost certainly booby-trapped flat box...
"It was a boost to the heart, all right," Kolchin said. "And I thought I was in for some fancy footwork to get past them. But they kept going into the alley, following the Bhurt I'd just ducked out on. They must have been wired for sound and gotten orders to follow you two instead of me."
"Though that doesn't mean they wouldn't have stomped you if it hadn't meant going out of their way," Bronski put in.
"You just concentrate on that box," Cavanagh told him. "Kolchin can handle the story without footnotes."
"Don't get testy," Bronski said. "I'm already past the tricky stuff."
"Anyway, I knew I wasn't going to catch up with them," Kolchin continued before Cavanagh could reply. "Even if I did, I didn't have anything to stop them with. I figured that whoever had set the trap was probably inside Bokamba's house, so I headed there."
Cavanagh nodded. "And ran straight into another Bhurt and a Mrachani."
"Actually, the Bhurt had already been run over," Kolchin said. "Piltariab's new friends had just finished taking him down and were lining up to have a go at the Mrachani." He shook his head. "Three Avuirli against a Bhurt. I wish I'd been in time to see that one."
"Be thankful you weren't," Bronski said, straightening up from his work and flexing his fingers. "That exotic scent the Avuirli had - you could still smell i
t when we got back - is the aromotional cue of Avuirlian fulkumu rage, probably the coldest anger you'll ever see anywhere. They knew the Mrachani had used diargulates on Piltariab and were ready to take him apart in retribution. Him and anyone who got in their way."
"Interesting," Kolchin murmured. "I'm rather surprised they stopped when I asked them to."
"I doubt they cared one way or the other what you wanted," Bronski told him dryly. "It was probably Piltariab who got them to stop after you suggested it. I'm not sure he even knows now what all the fuss was about. The point is that if you ever smell that cue again, make exhaust the other direction."
"We appreciate the biology lesson," Cavanagh said icily, nodding toward the box. "Now, would you kindly get on with your job?"
"I'm done," Bronski said mildly. Reaching to the box, he touched the release -
And the box popped open.
Cavanagh exhaled a long breath. "Was it booby-trapped?"
"Six ways from April," Bronski confirmed, peering into the box and pulling out three cards. "Let's see what we've got here...."
He slid one of the cards into his plate and spent a few minutes scrolling through various parts. "Interesting reading?" Cavanagh asked.
"Somewhat," Bronski said, pulling the card out and replacing it with the second. "That one was a list of dossiers on about fifty retired Peacekeeper officers of your acquaintance, along with complete data on their current homes. And I mean complete data: climate and terrain profiles, macro- and microcultural information listings, city and sector maps - the whole list. Must be a whole lot of Mrachanis scattered around the Commonwealth waiting for you to show up. Probably with a lot of Bhurtala to keep them company."
"I'd wondered how they managed to pinpoint Granparra," Kolchin murmured. "I guess they didn't."
"No, this group was just the lucky one," Bronski said, studying his plate. "Or not, depending on your point of view. Well, well. This one looks like a complete breakdown of CavTronics Industries, including listings for all manufacturing plants, R-and-D stations, sales outlets, and transport vessels. Plus dossiers on all your top management personnel."
Cavanagh swallowed hard. If he and Kolchin had followed their original plan of going directly home to Avon... "They must want me pretty bad."
"It's starting to look that way," Bronski agreed, inserting the third card into his plate. "You know, Cavanagh, I didn't put much stock in that Mrach conspiracy theory you spun for me on the way from Phormbi to Mra-mig. That whole idea of a quiet Mrach war against the rest of the universe sounded too much like a Yycroman smoke screen. But I'll admit it's starting to look more and more like the little furballs are sneakier than they like to appear...."
He trailed off, his forehead wrinkling as he frowned at the plate. "What is it?" Cavanagh asked.
"It's some kind of update," Bronski said, his voice suddenly tight. "Projected timetables for two operations. Mirnacheem-hyeea One and Mirnacheem-hyeea Two."
A cold knot formed in Cavanagh's stomach. "That's the Mrach name for the Conquerors," he said. "Or at least that's where we got the name Conquerors from."
"Yeah, I know," Bronski said, still frowning.
"Where are they supposed to take place?" Kolchin asked.
"The locations are coded," Bronski said. "Looks like they both have the same jump-off point, though, somewhere in Mrach space. Wait a second."
For a minute he was silent, doing something with the plate's keys. "Yes," he said at last. "Still don't have the endpoints; but if I'm reading this right, I've got a transit time from jump-off to end point for Mirnacheem-hyeea One. Assuming we're talking standard stardrive speed and not skitters... the end point has to be in either Mrach or Yycroman space."
Cavanagh looked at Kolchin. "I'll be damned. They're going to attack the Yycromae."
"No, they're not," Kolchin said. "It's the Mirnacheem-hyeea operation, remember? They're going to get the Conquerors to attack the Yycromae for them."
"How on Earth are they going to do that?" Cavanagh objected. "How could they even be in contact with the Conquerors?"
"There was a Mrach ship at the Conqueror base when Quinn and his bunch rescued your son Pheylan," Bronski said thoughtfully. "It was damaged, but it was there."
"Any sign of live Mrachanis?" Kolchin asked.
"They didn't see any," Bronski said. "But that might not have been necessary. We know the Conquerors have learned English; the Mrachanis might have planted data aboard that identified the Yycromae as a threat and persuaded them to launch an attack."
"With a complete timetable included?" Kolchin asked.
Bronski grimaced. "Yeah, there's that," he conceded.
"There's another possibility," Cavanagh said slowly. "The term Mirnacheem-hyeea also applies to humans - it was what the Mrachanis first called us after the Peacekeepers made contact with them. Maybe they've found a way to manipulate the Peacekeepers into attacking the Yycromae."
Bronski stroked his lip thoughtfully. "Could be. Wouldn't take all that hard a push, either."
"Not after all the paranoia they've cultivated toward the Yycromae over the years," Cavanagh said. "And not with the access to Peacekeeper information sources the Mrachanis seem to have."
"That last part's been changed, anyway," Bronski said. "I've put through an order cutting the Mrachanis out of all Peacekeeper information lines."
Cavanagh frowned. "I thought you didn't put any stock in my theories."
"I didn't," Bronski said. "That was their punishment for kidnapping and drugging that journalist, Ezer Sholom."
He closed the plate and leaned back in his seat, regarding his prisoners with an unreadable expression. "Well, gentlemen, I've got a problem here," he said. "I can get Myrmidon to send skitters to Earth and Edo with the alert; but what we really need right now is more information. For that someone's going to have to go to Mra and do some snooping. As head of NorCoord Intelligence for Mrach space, that's my job. The problem is what to do with you two."
"I thought you were planning to drop us into a deep hole somewhere," Cavanagh said.
"Oh, I am," Bronski said. "The problem is timing. If I'm reading this right, the jump-off time for the Conquerors One operation is only about forty-nine hours away. This ship is skitter-class, which helps, but from here to Mra and back to Edo will still eat up better than sixteen hours. Figure another twenty-five for Edo to get ships wherever the hell they'll have to go to stop this, and I'm left with only eight hours for actual snooping. That's not a lot of time. If I have to stop first and drop you two off on Mra-ect, I'll have even less. I could leave you here on the Myrmidon Platform; but they haven't got a secure quarantine area, and leaving you with anyone who doesn't know what you know kind of defeats the whole purpose of the quarantine."
"You could let us go," Cavanagh suggested. "I've already given my word we won't say anything."
"And that you won't be coerced into saying anything?" Bronski shook his head. "You know I can't risk that. Not with all these Mrachanis and Bhurtala looking for you. We already saw with Sholom what they're willing to do for information; and we cannot let them get even a hint that CIRCE doesn't exist. No, what I really want is to keep you with me. But I can't do that and watch my back at the same time." He folded his arms across his chest. "The ball's on your side of the net, Lord Cavanagh. Convince me you can be trusted."
Cavanagh lowered his eyes, suddenly misted with tears. Yes, there was indeed something he could say. The ultimate, unbreakable vow... "I swear on the soul of my beloved wife, Sara," he said quietly, the words aching in his throat. "We won't try to escape."
He looked up to find Bronski gazing back at him, something that might be sympathy behind the brigadier's eyes. "I guess that's what I wanted to hear," he said. His wrist flicked; automatically, Cavanagh opened his hand to catch the wristcuff key. "Get yourselves unlocked, then join me in the control room," Bronski told him, shoving the Mrach card carrier into a storage locker and standing up. "I'm going to get the prelaunch started."
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Cavanagh hesitated. "Brigadier?"
Bronski paused at the door. "What?"
"I don't know if it's occurred to you," Cavanagh said, "but it's possible the Mrachanis already learned about CIRCE from Ezer Sholom before we found him. If they are in contact with the Conquerors, and if they tell them CIRCE doesn't exist..."
"Then we're in trouble," Bronski agreed. "Let's go to Mra and see if we can find out."
14
The landing field was small but crowded, with hundreds of Zhirrzh working busily in and around the twenty-odd ships of various sizes and configurations preparing for their turn to lift into the sky. Loading vehicles wove their way through the crowds, bringing supplies and armaments and fuel to the ships; floaters carried crew members, technics, and at least one overelaborately dressed Zhirrzh who appeared to be a Dhaa'rr-clan leader on an inspection tour. Over and through everything fluttered the usual cloud of Elders, flickering in and out like dusk-glow insects as they brought messages to and from everyone in sight.
Casually, methodically, Thrr't-rokik wove in and out of the ships along with them, giving each person he passed a quick but careful look, fighting against a growing taste of hopelessness. The long trail had led here, to that transport sitting out in the parking area; but he'd been searching for nearly twenty hunbeats now and had found no sign of the two Zhirrzh. Perhaps they hadn't come onto the landing field, or perhaps they had already left on a spaceship or another transport. Or perhaps they had never been there at all. Perhaps they weren't even the ones using that particular transport anymore. He and Thrr-tulkoj might be on the wrong trail entirely -
And then, suddenly, there they were, walking up a landing ramp into the next ship over, warrior-style travel bags slung over their shoulders.
Thrr't-rokik was inside the entry hatchway in the flick of a beat, easing his face out through the ceramic hull for a closer look. It was them, all right: the two Zhirrzh he'd seen delivering Thrr-pifix-a's stolen fsss organ to her house on that fateful latearc six fullarcs ago.
The taller of the two spotted Thrr't-rokik as they reached the top of the ramp. "You - Elder - go tell the ship commander his passengers are here," he ordered.
