Conquerors 3 - Conquerors' Legacy

by Timothy Zahn

  "No, we don't," Bronski growled. "And we're not going to. It's a military secret."

  "A military secret?" Cavanagh echoed. "What in blazes does being a military secret have to do with anything?"

  "For starters, the simple fact that we only have his word for any of this," Bronski shot back. "For all we know, fear of CIRCE's the only thing holding them back from leveling every world in the Commonwealth."

  "Do you really believe that?" Cavanagh demanded.

  "Personally?" Bronski said. "Probably not. But that kind of policy decision isn't my job. The diplomats can handle that one after we get a cease-fire arranged."

  "Which is going to be a bit difficult to do from here," Cavanagh pointed out.

  "Right," Bronski agreed. "Which gives us the perfect chance to see how sincere the Zhirrzh really are."

  Thrr't-rokik was back before Cavanagh could ask what he meant. "The Overclan Prime agrees," he said. "How can we stop the war?"

  "We need to get in contact with Peacekeeper Command," Bronski said. "But we obviously can't do that from here. You're going to have to send some of the soldiers from that ship of yours and free us. If you can get us back to our ship, we can do the rest."

  Thrr't-rokik gazed at him. "You can promise that?" he asked.

  "I can," Bronski said firmly. "Lord Cavanagh is an important man. He can get the war stopped while we figure this out."

  "I will tell the Overclan Prime," Thrr't-rokik said. "He will decide."

  He vanished again. "What now?" Cavanagh asked.

  Bronski shrugged. "We wait."

  Commander Oclan-barjak flicked his tongue in a negative. "No," he said firmly. "If you want my advice, Overclan Prime, I say no."

  The Prime grimaced. "Thrr't-rokik? Your opinion?"

  "I don't know, Overclan Prime," the Elder said. "I believe I would trust Lord-stewart Cavanagh. But I don't really know this Bronski."

  The Prime eyed him. "But you do know Lord-stewart Cavanagh?"

  A flicker of startled guilt shimmered across Thrr't-rokik's face before he could hide it. But it was enough. "What I meant - "

  "What you meant is that you've been talking to him," the Prime interrupted.

  "You arrogant fool," Oclan-barjak growled, glaring at Thrr't-rokik. "Warrior Command has instituted a strict ban on communication with the Human-Conquerors - "

  "That's not important anymore," the Prime cut him off. "Thrr't-rokik, you said Bronski said Lord-stewart Cavanagh was important. Is he?"

  "He was once," Thrr't-rokik said. "He was a member of the Humans' version of the Overclan Seating. But he left a short time before his wife died."

  "But he probably still has contacts with other Human-Conqueror leaders," the Prime nodded. "That may be all we need."

  Oclan-barjak flicked his tongue. "Overclan Prime, I strongly suggest you reconsider. Thrr't-rokik's illegal conversations aside, we know virtually nothing about this alien."

  "We have no choice, Commander," the Prime said flatly. "We have exactly two direct contacts with Human-Conquerors right now: Lord-stewart Cavanagh, and his son and daughter."

  Thrr't-rokik jolted. "His son and daughter?"

  "Yes," the Prime said, gesturing Prr't-zevisti forward. "That's right, you don't know. This is Prr't-zevisti; Dhaa'rr."

  "Yes, I remember the name," Thrr't-rokik murmured. "Rumor has it that the Human-Conquerors on Dorcas destroyed you."

  "I was merely their unintentional guest," Prr't-zevisti said. "With the aid of Melinda Cavanagh and a visiting Zhirrzh searcher, I was able to escape."

  Thrr't-rokik leaned closer. "A visiting searcher? Do you know his name?"

  "It's your son, Thrr-gilag," the Prime confirmed. "I sent him there to do some studies for me. Go tell Lord-stewart Cavanagh we have an agreement. Then go to the Closed Mouth and tell Searcher Nzz-oonaz that he's to send as many warriors as it takes to get the three Human-Conquerors out."

  "I obey," Thrr't-rokik said, and vanished.

  Oclan-barjak flicked his tongue in a negative. "I hope you know what you're doing, Overclan Prime," he said. "If Speaker Cvv-panav had even a taste of this, he'd have you staked out for the savagefish by midarc."

  "Speaker Cvv-panav is too busy playing politics on Dorcas to bother right now," the Prime said grimly. Which was true enough; but what Oclan-barjak probably didn't see was the potentially dangerous connection that now existed between the situation on Dorcas and that on Mra. Lord-stewart Cavanagh's son and daughter were in the middle of Cvv-panav's scheme... and if anything happened to them, their father might not be nearly so willing to help arrange a truce.

  And then, abruptly, Thrr't-rokik was back, a look of fear and consternation on his face. "There is trouble!" he blurted. "The Human-Conquerors are attacking!"

  "What?" Oclan-barjak barked. "Attacking who?"

  "The Closed Mouth," Thrr't-rokik said. "And Nzz-oonaz says they are using the weapon called CIRCE!"

  28

  "Please," Valloittaja begged, his voice echoing from across the empty hangar to the half-open hatchway. "You must send warriors to help us, Searcher Nzz-oonaz. Otherwise none of us will survive this attack."

  Commander Sps-kudah flicked his tongue impatiently. "Searcher, we can't simply sit here in safety and let our allies be destroyed," he snapped. "Whatever this CIRCE thing is he's talking about, it must be something terrible to get them so worked up."

  "Your warriors will remain with us here in the Closed Mouth, Commander," Nzz-oonaz said, trying to keep his own tail and his resolve steady. The pleading was wrenching at him, too, but he still suspected this was nothing more than the Mrachanis' response to his bringing all of the Zhirrzh into the ship. A trick to lure them outside again; and he wasn't going to fall for it.

  But if it wasn't a trick, and if the Human-Conquerors were really about to use CIRCE on them...

  An Elder appeared. "We've completed our search of the rooms and corridors around the hangar," he reported. "There are no signs of Mrach warriors or obvious attack preparations."

  "There - you see?" Sps-kudah said. "Now can we slash this misdirected paranoia and get our warriors outside and in defensive positions?"

  "Two aircraft approaching, Commander," another Elder reported tightly. "Flying low and fast from the west toward the fortress."

  Another Elder flicked in. Nzz-oonaz glanced at him; it was Thrr't-rokik. "Searcher Nzz-oonaz, I have a message from the Overclan Prime - "

  "Not now," Nzz-oonaz snapped. "Can't you hear the alarms? The Human-Conquerors are attacking. Maybe even with the CIRCE weapon."

  Thrr't-rokik gaped. "The Human-Conquerors are attacking?"

  "Elder, what about those aircraft?" Nzz-oonaz called, turning away from him.

  "Still incoming," the Elder said.

  "Has Warrior Command been alerted?" Nzz-oonaz called. "Who's talking to Warrior Command?"

  "I have a pathway to them," another Elder called back. "They're requesting more information on the situation."

  Nzz-oonaz slashed his tongue in frustration. By the time the Elders finished their briefing, it might well be too late.

  Or rather, it was already too late. "Aircraft still incoming," an Elder snapped. "Five beats away."

  "Seal that hatchway!" Nzz-oonaz snapped. "All Zhirrzh, prepare for attack." With good luck maybe the hull would protect them. Silently, he counted the beats down to zero -

  Nothing happened.

  Nzz-oonaz continued his count, looking around in bewilderment. Everyone in the control room, physicals and Elders alike, seemed fine. "Elders, check the ship," he ordered.

  The Elders vanished. "Perhaps that was just a surveillance check," Commander Sps-kudah suggested darkly. "They may be coming back to use the weapon on us."

  "Or maybe they already have," Nzz-oonaz said, his tail spinning hard with delayed reaction. "Maybe our hull and the cliffs above us were able to block its effect."

  An Elder appeared. "No one has been hurt, Searcher Nzz-oonaz," he reported. "There is also no obvious dam
age to the Closed Mouth."

  "Go check on those aircraft," Sps-kudah ordered. "See if they're coming back."

  "I obey."

  "One way or another, Searcher, we need to move the ship out of this hangar," Sps-kudah said.

  "If we can," Nzz-oonaz said, looking at the external monitors. The doors the Mrachanis had used to seal the hangar looked pretty strong. If they couldn't persuade the Mrachanis to open them, he'd have to send warriors out to do it the hard way -

  "Searcher!" an Elder gasped, appearing in front of him. "Searcher, we're sealed in. We can't get out."

  "What?" Nzz-oonaz demanded. "What do you mean?"

  "There's a metal barrier covering the cliff over the hangar," a second Elder said, popping in beside the first. "It's very thin - I checked the edge. But it covers the entire hangar. And it blocks all anchorlines to Zhirrzh space."

  Nzz-oonaz looked at Sps-kudah, a horrible taste oozing beneath his tongue. So that was what the aircraft out there had been doing. An attack, all right, but like nothing he would ever have expected. "They've figured it out," he said, the words coming out mechanically. "And they've locked us in."

  "Yes," Sps-kudah murmured. "And with our anchorlines blocked..."

  He didn't finish the sentence. But he didn't have to. With their anchorlines blocked the Mrachanis could now destroy them all at their leisure. Not just raise them to Eldership, but destroy them.

  And no one would ever know what had happened.

  "CIRCE?" the Overclan Prime murmured. "You're sure that's what he said? CIRCE?"

  "I think so," Thrr't-rokik said, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to control it, the taste of dread collecting beneath his tongue. What in the eighteen worlds was this CIRCE that it could provoke such a reaction from the Overclan Prime himself? "I might have misunderstood."

  "No, CIRCE's the word, all right," the Prime said, gesturing peremptorily to Oclan-barjak. "Commander, have you gotten through to Warrior Command yet?"

  "I have a pathway open to them now," Oclan-barjak said, jogging back toward him from the transport's hatchway. "No response yet."

  An Elder appeared. " 'Warrior Command to the Overclan Prime,' " he quoted. " 'We confirm: Searcher Nzz-oonaz has warned that use of CIRCE against the Mrach study group is imminent.' "

  "And?" the Prime said. "Come on, Communicator, snap to it. Get me a report."

  "I obey," the Elder gulped, and vanished.

  "Overclan Prime?" Thrr't-rokik spoke up gingerly. "If you want, I could go back to Mra and find out what's happening."

  "You'll stay here until we have more information," the Prime growled.

  Thrr't-rokik drifted away, the dread growing more bitter by the beat. Was whatever was happening back there his fault? His unauthorized talk with Lord-stewart Cavanagh - could that have been the cause of this?

  And then the Elder was back. " 'We've lost all contact with the Closed Mouth,' " he quoted, his voice trembling with emotion. " 'All at once, with all the Elders still at their cuttings aboard.' "

  For a handful of beats the only sound on the hilltop was the whistling of the latearc breezes through the trees. "What about the Elders who went to Mra with the supplies from the Willing Servant?" the Prime asked.

  "They're still checking the list," the Elder said. "They'll know in a hunbeat."

  Prr't-zevisti came over beside Thrr't-rokik. "What's all this about?" he asked quietly, motioning him away from the Prime.

  "I don't know," Thrr't-rokik said as the two of them drifted a few strides away across the hilltop. "But I'm very much afraid that I've helped betray the Zhirrzh on Mra."

  Prr't-zevisti seemed to ponder that. "No," he said. "No, I don't believe that. Melinda Cavanagh has acted most honorably toward me. She has trusted me and helped me at great risk to herself. I cannot believe the father of such a child would use you to betray your own people."

  "We hardly know enough about any of these beings to presume how they'll behave," Thrr't-rokik scoffed. But he did feel marginally better. "What's Melinda Cavanagh's condition? Lord-stewart Cavanagh has expressed concern for her."

  "She's unharmed," Prr't-zevisti told him. "Her brother Pheylan Cavanagh is injured, but Melinda Cavanagh is a healer and has treated him."

  "What about my sons, Thrr-gilag and Thrr-mezaz? Are they all right?"

  "Thrr-gilag is all right for now," Prr't-zevisti said, his voice turning ominous. "But Commander Thrr-mezaz has been placed in detention by two agents of the Speaker for Dhaa'rr. I don't know why, but I suspect it has to do with clan politics. And with me."

  "Thrr't-rokik?"

  Thrr't-rokik looked over to see the Overclan Prime gesturing to him. "Do me a favor," he murmured hurriedly to Prr't-zevisti. "Tell Pheylan Cavanagh that his father is a Mrach prisoner. He's a warrior - perhaps he'll have some ideas."

  He went over to the Prime. "Yes?"

  "Warrior Command can't open pathways to any of the Elders on Mra," the Prime told him. "So it's up to you. Go back and see what's happened to the Closed Mouth. But be careful."

  "I obey." Thrr't-rokik flicked back along his anchorline to his hidden fsss cutting. The supply room where it had been stored was deserted. Carefully, keeping as deep in the grayworld as he could, he moved through the stone corridors and walls to the hangar area. He passed a dozen scurrying Mrachanis on the way; none of them seemed to notice him.

  The Closed Mouth was still where it had been, looking unharmed. Bracing himself, prepared for the worst, he moved through the hull into the control room.

  And stopped short in confusion. All the Zhirrzh were also still there, also apparently unharmed. "Nzz-oonaz?" he said, coming up again to the edge of the lightworld.

  A dozen physicals and Elders spun around at the sound of his voice. "Thrr't-rokik?" Nzz-oonaz said with obvious surprise. "I thought you'd been caught on the other side."

  "The other side of what?"

  "Of the metal sheet covering this hangar," Nzz-oonaz told him. "Didn't you notice it?"

  "Those aircraft that came by dropped it over the cliff above us," a Zhirrzh wearing commander's insignia growled, stepping to Nzz-oonaz's side. "Probably with help from the Human-Conquerors."

  Thrr't-rokik flicked upward, through the hull and stone cliffs to the metal covering. "I see," he said, returning to the Closed Mouth. "That explains why Warrior Command hasn't been able to open pathways to the Elders - "

  "Wait a beat," the commander cut him off. "You've talked to someone on Oaccanv? Recently?"

  "Of course," Thrr't-rokik said. "As I tried to tell you before, I've been speaking with the Overclan Prime. He sent me back here just now to find out what happened to you."

  Nzz-oonaz flicked his tongue suddenly. "Of course. That fsss cutting of yours - it's outside the metal covering. Get back and tell him that we expect to be under attack soon."

  "I obey," Thrr't-rokik said, and flicked along his anchorline back to the Oaccanv hilltops and the Zhirrzh waiting there.

  The Prime was speaking to another Elder but broke off as Thrr't-rokik arrived. "Well?" he asked.

  "They're all alive and well," Thrr't-rokik told him. "What happened was that the Mrachanis have covered the hangar area with a metal sheet, blocking all anchorlines."

  "I see," the Prime said, eyeing him. "And how is it that you aren't affected?"

  Thrr't-rokik braced himself. If he hadn't been in trouble before, he was likely going to be so now. "Because I'm not part of any official group of Elders," he said. "I stowed away on the Willing Servant. My fsss cutting is hidden in a supply box that was moved to the study group's quarters."

  "I see," the Prime said, his expression unreadable. "Any particular reason you stowed away on that particular ship?"

  "I was following the two Zhirrzh who stole my wife's fsss," Thrr't-rokik said. "They got on the Willing Servant but then got off after my cutting was already aboard - "

  He broke off, a sudden horrible thought striking him. Prr't-zevisti had said two Dhaa'rr agents had taken comma
nd of the Dorcas ground warriors. If they were the same ones he'd been following -

  "There must be something about the Thrr family and illegal fsss operations," the Prime grunted. "But never mind. The issue here is how we're going to stop this war."

  Thrr't-rokik grimaced. "Understood," he said. "What do you want me to do?"

  For a long beat the Prime gazed out unseeingly at the waving treetops in the distance. "We need Lord-stewart Cavanagh's help to arrange a truce," he said at last, as if thinking aloud. "That much is clear. But with a Mrach attack on the Closed Mouth imminent, there's no longer any way for us to release him."

  "Are we certain the Mrachanis are attacking?" Commander Oclan-barjak asked. "Could that metal sheet have some other purpose?"

  "Not after they told Nzz-oonaz the attackers would be using CIRCE," the Prime said. "If it hadn't been for the accident of Thrr't-rokik's presence there, we would certainly have concluded that all the Zhirrzh had been killed instantly, leaving the Mrachanis free to take the ship apart at their leisure."

  Oclan-barjak spat a curse. "So the Mrachanis have betrayed us."

  "Valloittaja's group has," the Prime agreed. "We don't know if the betrayal extends to all Mrach clans. All the better, though, that we didn't agree to that attack on Earth he wanted. The point is that as long as he's a prisoner, Lord-stewart Cavanagh won't be able to influence the Human-Conqueror warriors. But perhaps he can influence his son and daughter. Prr't-zevisti?"

  "Yes, Overclan Prime?" the other Elder said, coming forward.

  "You said you'd spoken at length during your captivity with Melinda Cavanagh," the Prime said. "Did she seem to have any influence with the Human-Conqueror commander there?"

  "Some influence, yes," Prr't-zevisti said. "I don't know if she has enough for your purposes."

  "We'll have to hope she does," the Prime said. "All right. Prr't-zevisti, Thrr't-rokik - go back and explain the situation to your respective Human-Conqueror contacts. Then we'll set up a pathway between them."

  He flicked his tongue. "And then," he added, "we shall see what happens."

  "It is time," Valloittaja said, standing two steps into the room. Behind him, filling the doorway, were two Bhurtala. "Come with me, please."