Conquerors' Legacy

by Timothy Zahn

  "But what about your own personal safety?" Peters persisted. "Only this past week there was a directive from NorCoord Military Intelligence cautioning parliamentary personnel in any dealings with the Mrachanis."

  "Military Intelligence is always issuing directives like that," VanDiver growled. "They haven't got anything new on the Zhirrzh, so this is how they try to convince us they're earning their budget."

  He waved a hand impatiently. "What am I arguing this with you for, anyway? Get that call in to the spaceport, then get a message out on the next skitter to Mra telling McPhee I'm on my way."

  Peters still didn't look happy, but he nevertheless nodded. "Yes, sir," he said. Turning, he left the office.

  Idiot,VanDiver thought after the other. That was all he seemed to be surrounded by these days. Idiots like Peters, who submitted incomplete reports and then had the temerity to argue decisions with him. Idiots like McPhee, who apparently hadn't even been able to locate Bronski on Puerto Simone Island until he was ready to leave the place. Five minutes more, and he'd have missed them completely.

  Still, sometimes two half-wits could add together to do something right. VanDiver still didn't have all the pieces, but he had enough of them.

  He ran the video portion of McPhee's report again. Cavanagh was in the lead as they headed into Bronski's ship, with Kolchin behind him and Bronski bringing up the rear. Definitely looking all chummy. Kolchin even had his hands clasped casually behind his back....

  VanDiver jabbed the freeze button, frowning suddenly at the image. Kolchin's hands behind his back... and a brief glint of metal.

  Wristcuffs?

  For a minute he fiddled with the plate's enlargement/enhancement controls, trying to get a clear view of that section of the image. But McPhee had already pushed his equipment to the limit in getting the video, and none of the enhancements did any good. More sophisticated equipment might be able to glean something out of the tape; but that would take time, and time wasn't something VanDiver had to spare at the moment.

  Besides, it didn't really matter. Cavanagh and Bronski were up to something-that much was a given. If Kolchin was in wristcuffs, it meant only that he wasn't voluntarily going along with the scheme. Or else the wristcuffs were just for show. Either way, they could sort it out at the trial.

  Lord Stewart Cavanagh on trial. What a lovely thought.

  Smiling tightly, VanDiver pulled out his phone. There were a hundred trifling matters to be disposed of before he could leave for Mra.

  15

  "As you can see, Commander, they really didn't leave us much to study," Engineer Lieutenant Alex Williams commented as the group entered the last hexagon of the abandoned Zhirrzh base. Like most of the rest of the rooms, this one had been pretty much stripped down to the walls. "The good news is the buildings themselves," Williams continued. "The analysis team says the material is very similar to the ceramic the Conquerors use in their warship hulls. Thinner, of course."

  "That could be useful," Pheylan agreed, looking around and trying to ignore the eerie sensation tingling through him. It had been barely fifteen days since Aric and Quinn and the Copperheads had pulled him out of this place, unconscious, with a dose of Zhirrzh tongue poison in his bloodstream. Hardly enough time even for his metabolism to recover from the poison and the alien food his captors had fed him; and yet, here he was, back on the same world.

  Facing once again the memories of his imprisonment. And the memories of the crushing Peacekeeper defeat that had put him there.

  "Commander?"

  Pheylan snapped out of the painful musings, focusing on the third member of their party. Colonel Helene Pemberton, if he'd gotten the introductions right, a fiftyish woman with dark hair, piercing gray eyes, and a slight Confederate accent. The colonel had been waiting with Williams when Pheylan had landed and had tagged silently along with them during the tour. "I'm sorry, Colonel," he said. "Did you say something?"

  "Not yet," she said, her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him. "As long as I have your attention, though, did you ever see any of this area while you were here?"

  "No," Pheylan said, shaking his head. "I saw my cell room-that was the room with the big glass cylinder in the middle-and some of the areas outside. They never showed me anything else."

  "I see," she said. "Carry on, Lieutenant."

  "That's about it, actually," the engineer said, waving around the room. "Except for the impressions in the ground where the pyramid and domes you mentioned were sitting. And, of course, the fence."

  "Yes, Thrr-gilag mentioned an outer fence," Pheylan said. "Where exactly is it?"

  "About half a klick out," Williams said, waving a hand in a general sweep around them. "It's made of a fine mesh, extends a couple of meters up and another couple underground. Basically the same design of fence that was around that other pyramid your brother looked at while he and the Copperheads were out looking for you."

  "You never saw the fence here?" Pemberton asked.

  "No," Pheylan said. "Though there was a path leading from the landing field away through the trees. I assume it led there."

  "Yes, it does," Williams confirmed. "You want to go take a look?"

  "Sure," Pheylan said, though he couldn't imagine what good it would do. He wasn't exactly a materials expert, after all.

  For that matter he wasn't anything that could make much of a difference to this investigation. He'd been sent here to catch what other, inexperienced eyes might miss, Admiral Rudzinski had said; but from what he'd seen so far, there was precious little left for anyone to look at, experienced or otherwise.

  They headed out onto the landing field. The sky had clouded up while they'd been inside, and the stifif breeze had turned chilly. "Unfortunately, the Zhirrzh had plenty of time to pack up everything and get it out of here," Williams commented as he led the way toward the path, the red dust scrunching underfoot. "About ninety hours, I understand, before the Peacekeeper assault force could get here."

  "Yes, we worried about that time lag on the way back," Pheylan agreed. "There was some discussion about whether we ought to go to Dorcas instead of heading directly to Edo. Peacekeeper warships starting from there could have lopped about thirty-five hours off the turnaround time."

  "Why didn't you?"

  "We decided it was too big a gamble," Pheylan said, forcing down the hard lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. Melinda had been on Dorcas when the Zhirrzh had attacked. "There hadn't been any warships there when we'd left, and no guarantee that would have changed. Besides, we were low enough on fuel that if we diverted to Dorcas, we wouldn't have had enough to continue on to Edo."

  "Good thing you didn't stop," Pemberton said soberly. "You wouldn't have found anything at Dorcas but Zhirrzh and Zhirrzh warships."

  "Yes," Pheylan murmured, Melinda's face hovering before his eyes. "A good thing, indeed."

  They reached the path, and Williams led the way onto it. Pheylan followed, his chest aching with the memory of how he'd manipulated his captors into triggering the magnets of his obedience suit at this spot. Slammed flat on his face on the ground, he'd used the distraction to covertly pick up one of the sharp pieces of flint that were still scattered around the edges of the path.

  A piece of flint that he'd successfully smuggled back to his cell... and that had been suddenly discovered hours later by the Zhirrzh. He still didn't know how they'd pulled that one off.

  The trees were pretty much as Pheylan remembered them: tall gray-green objects, which didn't look anything like the trees he'd grown up with but which obviously filled that same ecological niche. Walking along a path surrounded by them, however, he realized for the first time that they also put out a distinctive and not entirely pleasant odor. "Interesting aroma," he commented. "Smells like an annoyed Avuire."

  "Actually, it's more like an Avuire greeting friends after a long absence," Pemberton corrected absently. "Annoyed Avuirli smell entirely different."

  "Ah," Pheylan said, stifling a smile. He'd
meant the comment to be more facetious than anything else. He considered pointing that out, decided the colonel probably wouldn't appreciate it, and kept silent.

  A few minutes later they emerged from the trees. Five meters ahead, stretching out to both sides in front of them, was the fence.

  "That's it," Williams said. "What do you think?"

  "Impressive," Pheylan said, looking up and down the fence as he stepped toward it for a closer look. "Goes all around the encampment, you said?"

  "Right," the engineer said. "Obviously a defense of some sort."

  "Obviously," Pheylan agreed. The strands that made up the mesh were slender, composed of a silvery yet vaguely translucent material that reminded him of glass. "Was it electrified?"

  "Nope," Williams said, poking at one of the mesh strands with the tip of a knife. "The material's not even conductive. Some kind of high-tensile ceramic material, really strong. We're still doing measurements on it."

  Pheylan looked along the fence, shading his eyes with one hand as the sun winked out of the clouds. "What kind of supports does it have?"

  "None that we've been able to find," Williams said. "Apparently, the engineering design of the mesh plus the section underground is enough to hold it upright. Oh, and there's no gate, either, at least none we could find. Looks like the Zhirrzh don't go in for evening strolls."

  "The question, of course," Pemberton spoke up, "is what the Zhirrzh were expecting it to protect them against. Certainly not any kind of weapons attack."

  "Thrr-gilag implied it was here to keep animals out of the compound," Pheylan said, fingering the mesh. The strands were very smooth.

  "That's a pretty tight mesh for keeping out tigers," Williams commented. "You'd think they were terrified of squirrels, too."

  "Maybe they're not the ones it was here to protect," Pheylan said, letting his hand drop to his side. "Maybe it was to guard the pyramid."

  "Why do you say that?" Pemberton asked.

  "Well, we know the pyramid was very important to them," Pheylan said. "Three Zhirrzh came bounding out of the domes and pointed nasty-looking sticks at me when I tried to get too close to it. And it was right after that incident that Svv-selic was replaced as interrogation spokesman by Thrr-gilag."

  "What do you think the pyramid's significance is?" Pemberton asked.

  "I really don't know," Pheylan said. "I came up with all sorts of crazy ideas, but, of course, I never got close enough to see those sausage slices Aric told me were in the niches in the one the Copperheads found."

  "Which doesn't necessarily mean this pyramid had the same sausage slices," Pemberton pointed out. "Or that it even had the same purpose. The Zhirrzh may simply like pyramids."

  Pheylan shrugged. "Maybe. On the other hand, they build their ships and buildings out of hexagons."

  "So why use pyramids for these other structures?" Pemberton asked.

  How the hell should I know?With an effort Pheylan bit down on the retort. Wild hunches and educated guesses were why he was there, after all. "Historical reasons, maybe," he suggested. "Maybe there's a long tradition behind the pyramid design for these things and they want to stay with it. Or maybe they're deliberately designed to look different from other kinds of structures."

  "For what reason?" Pemberton asked.

  "A warning to strangers to stay away, maybe," Pheylan said. "A warning to other Zhirrzh, even-there could easily be subtle markings on the pyramids we humans wouldn't immediately pick up on."

  "Perhaps," Pemberton said. "Anything else?"

  Pheylan grimaced. Wild hunches... "Or else the shape is purely functional," he said. "Maybe the pyramids are electronic devices. Or weapons."

  "What kind of weapons?" Pemberton asked.

  Pheylan glanced at Williams. The engineer seemed to have dropped out of this part of the conversation. "Well, I suppose it sounds crazy now, but for a while I wondered if it could be a component for a CIRCE-type weapon."

  "Why do you think that sounds crazy?"

  "Because I know now this was just a base and not a whole Zhirrzh colony world," Pheylan said. "Not worth bringing in huge amounts of ordnance to protect. Also because they didn't use any exotic weaponry against the Copperhead rescue team, and because they cut and ran instead of waiting to fight the follow-up Peacekeeper force. Finally, because they apparently haven't used anything like CIRCE against the Commonwealth."

  "I see," Pemberton said. "Were you aware that each of the Zhirrzh occupation forces has set up at least four of these same pyramids in or around their beachheads?"

  Pheylan frowned. "No, I wasn't," he said slowly. "The same kind of pyramid?"

  "They look the same on long-range scans," the colonel said. "Beyond that we don't know."

  Pheylan stroked the smooth strands of the fence. "Could they have some religious significance, then?" he suggested. "Like a temple or shrine or something?"

  "That's a possibility," Pemberton agreed. "Did you ever see any of the Zhirrzh worship or meditate at the pyramid here?"

  Pheylan searched his memory. "As far as I can remember, I never even saw any of them go near it," he said. "Except for the guards in the domes, of course."

  "I see," Pemberton said, her voice noncommittal. "Well, keep thinking. Perhaps something will come to you."

  "Perhaps," Pheylan said. "You're a psychologist, aren't you, Colonel?"

  She smiled faintly, the first smile he'd yet seen from her. "Cognitive analyst, actually," she corrected. "My particular specialty is the gleaning of little bits of information from damaged or reluctant minds."

  "And which one does mine qualify as?"

  She shrugged. "The techniques are basically the same. I'm here to help you dredge up anything you might have seen or heard that could help us in our defense against the Zhirrzh." She cocked her head to the side. "Does my presence or profession bother you?"

  Pheylan shook his head. "Melinda took a unit of psychology when she was in med school," he said, a lump again forming in his throat at the reminder of the danger his sister was in. "She spent the entire term break afterward practicing it on my brother and me. Just about drove us crazy."

  "You're worried about her, aren't you?" Pemberton asked quietly.

  Pheylan looked out at the alien landscape beyond the fence. "I asked to be assigned to whatever force will be going to Dorcas," he said. "They sent me here instead."

  "I'm sure Admiral Rudzinski had his reasons," Pemberton said. "There may be something of vital significance here that no one but you would recognize."

  "Yes," Pheylan murmured. "Maybe."

  He took a deep breath of the pungent air, turned back to face the two of them. "If I do, we're not going to dig it out standing here chatting. Let's get back to the complex."

  He spent the rest of the day in the Zhirrzh building complex, watching as Williams's analysis team carried out tests on the ceramic walls, or just wandering around the building and grounds, looking and remembering. When night fell, he returned to the team's laboratory ship, spending a couple more hours dictating his thoughts and impressions into a recorder before retiring to one of the bunks for a fitful night's sleep.

  He spent the second day lounging on a cot inside his old prison cell, gazing out through the glass wall and describing for three of the techs the various pieces of Zhirrzh equipment that had been set up around the room. At Colonel Pemberton's suggestion he spent the night there as well. Another night of restive sleep, as it turned out, but without the nightmares he'd been expecting.

  Without the nightmares; but with a lot of thinking, particularly in the quiet of the early-morning hours. And by the time the camp began to come alive again, he had come to some unpleasant conclusions.

  "Good morning, Commander," Colonel Pemberton greeted him as he entered the main analysis room aboard the laboratory ship. "How did you sleep?"

  "Not too badly," Pheylan told her. "I wonder if I could have a private word with you, Colonel."

  "Certainly," she said, waving a hand toward a small
office that opened off the analysis room. "This way."

  He waited until the door had closed behind them. "I'd like to know, Colonel, what exactly I'm doing here," he said. "The truth, I mean."

  "Is that all?" she said, frowning. "I thought Admiral Rudzinski laid that out for you back on Edo."

  "He gave me the official reason," Pheylan said. "I'm asking for the real reason."

  Her eyes flicked thoughtfully across his face. "Can you at least give me a hint?" she asked.

  So she was going to play dumb. Pheylan had rather expected she would. "Sure," he said. "To put it in a nutshell, there's nothing here for me to do. The engineers and techs have the analysis part well under control, I've already described at the Edo debriefings everything I saw or did here, and there are no artifacts, tools, or even unexplained skid marks for me to look at."