Timothy Zahn - Conquerors 03 - Conquerors' Legacy

by Conquerors' Legacy(lit)

  Prr't-zevisti murmured something and turned away, fading until he was barely visible. "He has tried," Thrr-gilag said. "But the anchorpoint-sense no longer exists. It appears that hisfsss has been destroyed."

  Melinda looked at Prr't-zevisti, feeling a prickling sensation on her skin. "What will happen to him now? Will he die?"

  "I do not know," Thrr-gilag admitted. "I think he will continue to live but will be confined to the small region around this new cutting."

  "And the cutting back at the Peacekeeper base," Melinda said. "We'll get it back to you, Prr't-zevisti, after all this is over."

  Prr't-zevisti stirred, his image returning to its earlier brightness. "I am shamed by my sadness," he said. "You have risked your honor for me, Doctor-Cavan-a. I am alive, and I am free. What more shall I wish would be selfish."

  They were over the last row of foothills now, with the colony in distant sight. Melinda found herself studying the village as they approached, wondering what changes the Zhirrzh had made in the area. She spotted the warehouse where she'd stored the supplies for Pheylan's rescue mission; it seemed incredible that that had been only three and a half weeks ago. The last transmission they'd had before the Peacekeepers had seemingly abandoned them had reported that Pheylan and Aric and the others had all returned safely to Edo and had included a summary of their debriefing.

  Yet here Pheylan was, back in Zhirrzh hands. How in the world had that happened?

  Abruptly, Thrr-gilag leaned forward, reaching over to touch the pilot on the shoulder. He jabbed his tongue toward the village and said something that sounded agitated. Prr't-zevisti moved into the space between them, and for a minute the three of them conversed in rapid-fire Zhirrzh. "What's wrong?" Melinda asked.

  "I do not know," Thrr-gilag said, jabbing his tongue again. "There is a new arrival in the encampment since we departed to seek your assistance. It is a flash-ship bearing the markings of the Speaker for Dhaa'rr."

  Melinda squinted out at the white ship parked off to one side of the landing area. "Is that bad?"

  "The Speaker for Dhaa'rr is not a friend of the Thrr family," Thrr-gilag said. "I do not believe he will be pleased to find Prr't-zevisti still alive."

  Melinda frowned at the ghost. "But I thought Prr't-zevisti was a member of the Dhaa'rr clan."

  "He is," Thrr-gilag said. "It is too complicated to explain now, Melinda Cavanagh. We must not reveal that Prr't-zevisti is here until we know the reason for this visit."

  "That's going to be a tall order," Melinda said. "Won't the other Elders recognize him?"

  Thrr-gilag jabbed his tongue viciously. "Yes. You are right; it is no use. Unless we drop hisfsss cutting to the ground right here, there will be nowhere he can go that the other Elders cannot also reach."

  Melinda's eyes fell on the equipment Holloway's men had loaded aboard. Her bag, the medical supplies and disguised explosives-

  And the vital-signs monitor with its metal casing.

  "Yes, there is," she told Thrr-gilag, crouching beside the monitor and pulling out her multitool. "We can hide his cutting in here until we know what's going on. Tell the pilot to slow down-I need time to get this open."

  She had the back of the monitor open by the time the pilot had begun his descent toward the landing field. Thrr-gilag and Prr't-zevisti had been conversing together the whole time in quiet tones, and now Thrr-gilag handed Melinda the small cylinder containing the cutting. "Make certain he has a small space around him," he told her. "And that the cutting is safely secure in place. Damage to it will hurt him."

  "Yes, I know," Melinda said, wedging the cylinder between two circuit boards near one side. There was a lot of metal in there, but the boards themselves were nonmetallic. "How's that, Prr't-zevisti?"

  "It is fine," the Elder's voice said from inside the monitor.

  "Be quick," Thrr-gilag warned, looking ahead. "Other Elders may look in at us."

  Melinda nodded and got to work. She had the monitor sealed and the last screw in place by the time the aircar settled to the ground.

  She had expected a group of warriors to be waiting for them as she and Thrr-gilag exited the aircar. To her surprise there was only a single Zhirrzh standing at the foot of the ramp. For a minute he spoke to Thrr-gilag; then, touching a device draped over his shoulder, he turned to Melinda and spoke. "I greet you, Melinda Cavanagh," the translation came from the shoulder device. "I am Second Commander Klnn-vavgi; Dhaa'rr. The seriousness of the situation requires that we dispense with the usual ceremony."

  Melinda felt her heart speed up. Seriousness? "Has something happened to Pheylan?"

  "Pheylan Cavanagh is not worse," Thrr-gilag said, his voice sounding abruptly strange. "It is my brother, Commander Thrr-mezaz. On the orders of the Overclan Seating, he has been placed under detention."

  25

  The supply cart rolled along the bumpy stone corridor, every turn of its wheels taking Thrr't-rokik farther away from the Mrach spacecraft and the pyramid full of Elders that had been brought there along with the other supplies from theWilling Servant. A decidedly mixed blessing, he'd already concluded. On the one side, it would probably be safer to have the box containing his illegalfsss cutting moved farther away from the prying eyes of the other Elders of this expedition; on the other side, he wasn't sure exactly where the box was being taken. There'd been something about putting it in the Zhirrzh study group's quarters-

  An Elder suddenly appeared in the grayworld in front of him. "There you are," he snapped. "I've been looking all over for you, Cvv't-rokik. Didn't you hear the announcement for all Elders to assemble in theClosed Mouth's command room?"

  Thrr't-rokik grimaced. Of course he hadn't heard-the announcement had undoubtedly been made directly to the collection offsss cuttings in the pyramid. "I didn't realize it was to be immediately," he improvised. "I was asked to watch over these supplies and make sure they were properly delivered."

  "Asked by whom?" the Elder demanded suspiciously.

  "One of the warriors," Thrr't-rokik said. On his way out of the ship he'd overheard something.... "He told me to make sure the supplies arrived all right since the members of the study group were sleeping."

  The Elder flicked his tongue, still obviously suspicious. But it apparently wasn't worth the effort of checking up on. "All right, get going," he growled. "But as soon as they're delivered, get yourself back to the ship and the meeting."

  "I obey," Thrr't-rokik said.

  The Elder flicked his tongue again and vanished. Another Elder appeared nearby, glanced briefly at Thrr't-rokik and the supply cart, then left without speaking. A few beats later a third Elder appeared, this one moving in and out of the boxes on the cart before similarly leaving. Clearly, they were approaching the study group's quarters and the Elders assigned to watch over them; and if Thrr't-rokik didn't want to have to keep explaining his presence here, a strategic withdrawal was probably called for.

  Fortunately, with hisfsss cutting already a thoustride away from theClosed Mouth, there was an obvious place to hide. Zipping forward ahead of the wobbly supply cart, he stretched out to the full length of his anchorline, moving out of range of the Elders in the hangar area.

  It was more of the same up there: more stone tunnels and more dimly lit stone rooms. Also more deserted. He drifted in and out through the walls without seeing any signs of life or habitation. Apparently, this part of the fortress wasn't being used right now.

  Or rather, he corrected himself, not being used very much. From the wall to his right came a faint but distinct thunking sound, followed by something that might have been voices. He moved through the wall to investigate-

  And jolted to a stop, dropping reflexively into the safety of the grayworld.

  The room was indeed occupied. By three Human-Conquerors.

  Cautiously, fighting against the urge to zip away out of there, he moved to one of the upper corners of the room and rose again toward the lightworld. Two of the three Human-Conquerors were seated on low metal couchlike
structures placed against one wall, while the third knelt at the door tapping methodically on the end of a long rigid sliver of some black material with a piece of rock. The other end of the sliver had been inserted behind a metal plate set into one side of a wooden door. A lock mechanism, perhaps?

  A quiet surge of relief flooded over Thrr't-rokik as the truth suddenly hit him. These Human-Conquerors weren't a prelude to attack, nor were they evidence of Mrach treachery. On the contrary, they were Mrach prisoners.

  One of the two seated Human-Conquerors was speaking. Easing a little closer to the lightworld, Thrr't-rokik focused his attention and his freshly obtained knowledge of the Human-Conqueror language and listened.

  "I'm surprised they haven't killed us," the alien was saying. "I'd have thought keeping us alive would be dangerous."

  The other seated alien moved his head back and forth to the side. "Don't worry, Cavanagh, they'll kill us soon enough," he said. "But not before they use us against the Zhirrzh."

  "How?" the first asked.

  "No idea," the second answered. "Some way that helps (something) their position here. Maybe they'll tell the Zhirrzh we came to attack them. Maybe even stage a real attack. Kill a couple of them and blame us."

  "And our side of the story won't be mentioned?" the first Human-Conqueror said.

  "I'm sure we'll be dead before anyone asks us," the second said.

  The first made a rude-sounding noise and the conversation ceased.

  For perhaps a hunbeat Thrr't-rokik continued to watch, running the words he'd heard through his mind and wondering if he could have misinterpreted them. The warriors on theWilling Servant had spoken of the Mrachanis as allies of the Zhirrzh. They wouldn't deliberately attack the study group. Surely these Human-Conquerors were lying.

  But if they weren't...

  He found Searcher Nzz-oonaz asleep in one of the rooms of the study group's quarters. "Searcher Nzz-oonaz?" he said softly, trying to watch in all directions at once for other Elders. If he was caught waking up the group's speaker without orders, theywould take the effort to check up on him. "Searcher?"

  Nzz-oonaz's eyes fluttered open, the lowlight pupils widening a little as the others stayed narrowed to slits. "Um?" he murmured. He focused on Thrr't-rokik's face and frowned-

  "I'm not one of your usual Elders," Thrr't-rokik told him. "My name is Thrr't-rokik; Kee'rr. I'm Thrr-gilag's father-I think you and I met once a few cyclics ago."

  "Um," Nzz-oonaz murmured again, nodding this time in recognition. He gestured toward the ceiling, flicking his tongue in the universal signal for caution.

  Thrr't-rokik nodded back; they'd been warned aboard ship that the Mrachanis were probably monitoring all conversations. While the Elders themselves couldn't be heard, the physicals still had to be careful what they said aloud. "I'm actually not supposed to be here at all," he told Nzz-oonaz, "so I'll ask this quickly. Are you aware that the Mrachanis have taken three Human-Conqueror prisoners and are holding them about four thoustrides north of here?"

  Nzz-oonaz's lowlight pupils narrowed, and he flicked his tongue in a negative. "You're sure they haven't told you about them?" Thrr't-rokik persisted. "Because they're there. I saw them, not two hunbeats ago." He hesitated. "And this might not mean anything, but they were speculating that the Mrachanis were planning to raise some Zhirrzh to Eldership and blame it on them. I don't know why-it doesn't make much sense to me."

  Nzz-oonaz's expression was suddenly fully awake. Sliding off his couch, he snagged his jumpsuit and put it on. Gesturing Thrr't-rokik to follow, he left the room and headed down the corridor toward the hangar area.

  The corridor was bustling with Zhirrzh and Mrachanis-and hidden Elders-as more of the supplies brought from theWilling Servant were shifted around. Nzz-oonaz kept going, not stopping to talk, until they'd reached theClosed Mouth. Still silently, he led the way inside and back to the rearmost section of the ship, ending up finally in a small room nestled in among the softly humming engines.

  "All right," he said after he'd sealed the door behind him. "The technics believe this room should be impossible for the Mrachanis to monitor. Tell me again what you saw and heard."

  "I saw three Human-Conqueror prisoners," Thrr't-rokik said. "They're locked in a small room in a part of the fortress that seems to be otherwise deserted. They were talking among themselves about the possibility that the Mrachanis planned to use them against us, and then kill them."

  "Any idea how long they'd been there?"

  "Long enough for one of them to start trying to damage the door lock," Thrr't-rokik said. "Not long enough for him to make any progress."

  "You're sure the door was locked, then?" Nzz-oonaz asked.

  "Actually, I didn't check," Thrr't-rokik admitted. "The mechanism was metal-"

  "Go check now," Nzz-oonaz ordered. "And while you're there, see if you can find out whether the Human-Conquerors are armed."

  "I obey," Thrr't-rokik said automatically, and flicked back along his anchorline. One of the Human-Conquerors was still sitting on the couch, while the other was still working on the door. The third, though, was now walking slowly along one wall, hands and eyes systematically examining a horizontal crack that ran around the entire room. As unobtrusively as possible, Thrr't-rokik completed the checks Nzz-oonaz had asked for, then flicked back to the ship.

  Another Elder was in the room with Nzz-oonaz when he returned, and a second was just leaving. "I've ordered the warriors put on full alert," Nzz-oonaz told Thrr't-rokik. "What did you find?"

  "It does appear to be a lock," Thrr't-rokik said, "The Human-Conquerors also don't seem to be armed, though two of them are wearing what seem to be holsters that would accommodate small hand weapons."

  "That would fit if they were Mrach prisoners," the Elder rumbled thoughtfully. "Warriors merely playing a role, on the other side, would more likely retain their weapons."

  "Unless their warriors behave differently than ours would," Nzz-oonaz said. "No, that's wrong. Pheylan Cavanagh was a warrior, and he was carrying a small hand weapon when he was captured."

  "Pheylan Cavanagh?" Thrr't-rokik murmured, half to himself, as the name jogged his memory.

  "You have something?" Nzz-oonaz asked.

  "It may mean nothing," Thrr't-rokik said slowly, "but I heard one of the Human-Conqueror prisoners call one of the others Cavanagh. Could he be related to Pheylan Cavanagh?"

  "It's possible," Nzz-oonaz said, frowning. "Cavanagh would be the family name, and they frequently use those alone as identification." He gestured to the other Elder. "Open a pathway to Thrr-gilag on Dorcas. Maybe he knows more about Pheylan Cavanagh's family."

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

  "I didn't mean for you to go to this much trouble," Thrr't-rokik said, feeling more than a little awkward.

  "It's no trouble," Nzz-oonaz assured him. "Actually, you've got me curious now, too."

  Thrr't-rokik grimaced. "I suppose I should also say that I'm not trying to damage any of the diplomatic work you've been doing here. There may be some completely innocent explanation for why the Mrachanis haven't told you about those prisoners."

  "Trust me, Thrr't-rokik," Nzz-oonaz said grimly. "To some of us the Mrachanis are looking less and less innocent all the time."

  The Elder flicked back. "I'm sorry, Searcher Nzz-oonaz, but normal communications with the ground-warrior beachhead on Dorcas have been suspended. Only pathways going through specifically designated Elders are being allowed."

  "What designated Elders?" Nzz-oonaz demanded. "Who ordered this?"

  "I don't know," the Elder said. "But I noticed that both of the allowed Elders carry Dhaa'rr-clan names. And the Elder I talked with hinted the order had come down from the Speaker for Dhaa'rr himself."

  Thrr't-rokik looked at Nzz-oonaz, found the other looking back at him. "I don't like this, Thrr't-rokik," the young searcher said quietly. "Not at all."

  "Perhaps you should speak to the Overclan Prime," Thrr't-rokik suggested, trying to
suppress his own apprehension. "He'll know what's going on."

  "Maybe," Nzz-oonaz countered. "The problem is that all our direct communication pathways to Warrior Command and the Overclan Prime are under the accuracy-control monitoring of Dhaa'rr Elders."

  "I object to your inferences, Searcher Nzz-oonaz," the other Elder said stiffly. "My communicators are all former warriors themselves, completely professional in the performance of their duties. They would not allow clan politics to interfere."

  "I'm sure that under most circumstances that would be true," Nzz-oonaz said. "But I'm beginning to wonder whether the circumstances here are normal anymore. Can you guarantee-really and thoroughly guarantee-that none of the Dhaa'rr Elders aboard theClosed Mouth would pass the content of a private conversation to Speaker Cvv-panav? Especially if the Speaker was the target of that conversation?"