Conquerors' Legacy

by Timothy Zahn

  And abruptly the shape and texture changed as the chase ship curved upward back toward space, the wounded Corvine safely aboard.

  "I guess that's that," Quinn said aloud, easing up on the throttle and lifting the Corvine's nose away from the planet below. The battle was over, and with it any need to stay at Level X. Bracing himself, he disengaged.

  With a breathtaking suddenness, the brilliant colors were gone. The colors, and the aromas, and the sensations, and the other presences in his mind. He was all alone again, suspended precariously in the center of a vast, uncaring universe that had once again become dark and dreary.

  A universe from which several of his friends and comrades in arms had now been taken. Forever.

  For a long, agonizing moment he fought the old silent battle within himself: whether to stay here, or to go back to Level X for just a few minutes more. But down deep, he knew what the final outcome of that battle had to be. Level X was a glorious existence, a dazzling universe where life was neat and ordered and there were no emotional knives to cut and twist into a person's gut. But it wasn't reality; and a long time ago he'd decided where it was he had to live his life.

  And so, with a hollowness in his soul, and with silent tears streaming across his cheeks, he turned the Corvine to follow the rescue ship back across the dark of space toward the battered fleet. And wished he'd been one of the ones who had died.

  The teeth-aching screech of metal on metal ground to a halt, and there was a distant clang as the forward cargo hatch slammed shut. "That's got 'er," Cho Ming called out.

  "Right," Daschka said, easing the throttle back and pulling up toward space. "There you go, Cavanagh. Happy?"

  "Yes," Aric murmured. "Thank you."

  Daschka shrugged. "I never said I wasn't willing to help out," he said. "I just didn't want to get vaporized in the process."

  Aric smiled. "I guess that's understandable."

  "Bet your sweet assets," Daschka agreed. "Well, let's get over to theTrafalgar. We've got some damaged goods here to deliver. And I suspect we're going to want to have a long talk with Commodore Montgomery."

  21

  Valloittaja's fur had been gradually stiffening throughout Nzz-oonaz's description of the battle, a gesture or reaction the searcher had found both disturbing and strangely distracting. Now, abruptly, the fur snapped flat again. "So, then, what you are saying is that you have failed us," the Mrachani said.

  "I'm sorry," Nzz-oonaz said automatically before catching himself. There was no need for him to apologize to the Mrachanis. In fact, if anything, the apologies and explanations should be traveling the other direction. "But if there's any blame to be placed here, I believe there's enough for all of us to share."

  Valloittaja seemed to shrink into himself. "Of what use is blame?" he asked, his voice low and edged with fear and pain. "The Zhirrzh strength has been tried and has failed... and the Mrachanis now face extinction at the hands of our oppressors."

  "That will not happen," Gll-borgiv put in, flicking his tongue for emphasis. "We will not allow it."

  "And you and the Conquerors Without Reason are both wrong if you think that Zhirrzh strength has failed," Svv-selic added with equal firmness.

  "Do you truly believe that?" Valloittaja's voice was still soft, but suddenly there was an undertone to it that sent a chill of shame through Nzz-oonaz. "You, who were driven out before them? You, who by your own admission wavered in your determination when first faced with the Yycroman line of defense?"

  "I don't entirely understand that part myself," Nzz-oonaz admitted. "There was something about the defenders being nonwarrior craft instead of warships-"

  "The Yycromae are a warrior people," Valloittaja hissed. "I have told you that again and again. There are no nonwarriors with them."

  "We understand," Gll-borgiv said. "And we won't make that mistake again. In fact-"

  "If I may speak," Nzz-oonaz cut him off, throwing a warning glare at both him and Svv-selic. He'd been far too lax lately in maintaining his rights and responsibilities as speaker of this group, and it was about time he reasserted that authority. "The fact of the matter, Valloittaja, is that your information did not lead us to expect either the Conqueror Without Reason fleet or the two Yycroman warships that appeared."

  "I know," Valloittaja murmured. The brief flash of anger was gone, and once again he seemed to shrink in his seat. A vulnerable, helpless creature facing a future full of fear and hopelessness. "And that is why I can see only extinction for myself and my people. For the universe is filled with the unexpected; and if Zhirrzh strength and resolution cannot face even so small a test, how can you hope to endure a truly difficult challenge?"

  "And what is this challenge?" Nzz-oonaz asked, resisting the temptation to again defend his people and their character.

  "What else but the proposed attack on the planet Earth?" Valloittaja said. "That is the center of their power and influence. More important, it is undoubtedly the place where the weapon CIRCE is being assembled."

  From the edges of his eyes Nzz-oonaz saw Gll-borgiv's and Svv-selic's tails speed up; felt his own tail twitch despite his best efforts to control it. "An attack on Earth would hardly be merely another challenge," he said to Valloittaja. "Your information as well as our own indicates that Earth is defended by awesome weaponry. And with their tunnel-line detectors, they would have eighty hunbeats of advance warning that our warships were coming."

  "There is a way around that," Valloittaja said, sounding almost pathetically eager. "We have a way, if only you'll agree to help and protect us."

  "We will listen to your ideas," Nzz-oonaz said with a nod. "But not right now."

  There was an uncomfortable shuffling from the two searchers flanking him. Nzz-oonaz felt it himself: the sense of frantic urgency filling the air, tugging at him to agree to whatever the Mrachanis wanted. If they didn't attack Earth as quickly as possible, all could be lost.

  But he had his instructions from the Overclan Prime himself, and he was determined to obey them. "We must first wait until Warrior Command has had a chance to assess the damage to the strike force," he told Valloittaja, "and to fully evaluate the warriors' performance in that battle. Only then will we discuss what further actions are to be taken."

  "But that will take time," Valloittaja objected. "Time that neither you nor we can afford to waste."

  "We do not consider such evaluations to be a waste of time," Nzz-oonaz said firmly. "Regardless, that is how it will be."

  For a few beats Valloittaja looked in turn at each of the three searchers, his eyes large and liquid and with a pain and disappointment behind them that made Nzz-oonaz ache with shame for what his people were doing to these helpless victims of Conqueror Without Reason tyranny. But he had his instructions, and for a change both Svv-selic and Gll-borgiv remembered their places and also remained silent, and finally Valloittaja sighed. "If that is how it will be, then that is how it will be," he said, the forlorn resignation in his voice making Nzz-oonaz ache even more. "May I at least beg your leaders to perform their evaluation with the utmost speed?"

  "They will," Nzz-oonaz promised, fighting against the urge to back down on this. It was not a decision he had any power to change. "We understand the dangers as well as you do."

  The Mrachani smiled wanly. "I doubt that, Searcher Nzz-oonaz," he said softly. "I doubt that very much."

  Turning, he walked out of the conference room. "Searcher Nzz-oonaz?" the soft voice of an Elder said in Nzz-oonaz's ear. "There's a private pathway waiting for you aboard theClosed Mouth."

  Nzz-oonaz flicked his tongue silently in acknowledgment. "I need to go back to the ship for a few hunbeats," he said to Svv-selic and Gll-borgiv, playing their usual game wherever Elders were concerned. "You two go on back to our rooms, and I'll join you there soon."

  An Elder was waiting for him in the room aboard theClosed Mouth where they held all their communications with Oaccanv. "Who is it?" Nzz-oonaz asked as he sealed the door behind him. "The Overclan Prim
e?"

  "No," the Elder said darkly. "It's Searcher Thrr-gilag; Kee'rr."

  Nzz-oonaz felt his midlight pupils narrow. Thrr-gilag? "Open the pathway," he ordered. "Thrr-gilag, this is a pleasant surprise."

  The Elder didn't move. "May I remind you, Searcher, that this mission has an extremely high warrior security classification," he said. "You aren't supposed to be speaking with anyone except the Overclan Prime and Warrior Command."

  "I understand that," Nzz-oonaz said. "But Thrr-gilag was once part of this study group, and I consider him to be one still. Besides, the fact that the Elders coordinating our communications have allowed him this contact implies the Overclan Prime has given him permission to speak with me. Please open the pathway."

  "I obey," the Elder growled, his voice still deep with disapproval, and vanished.

  He returned a few beats later. " 'For me, as well, Nzz-oonaz,' " he quoted Thrr-gilag's reply. " 'How are your discussions with the Mrachanis going?' "

  "They're certainly interesting," Nzz-oonaz said. "Beyond that it's hard to say. Where are you, anyway? I thought you were supposed to come to Mra with us."

  " 'That got changed at the last beat. I'm on Dorcas with my brother, Thrr-mezaz, and Klnn-dawan-a. We were sent here to study a Human prisoner and two Mrachanis who came claiming to be ambassadors.' "

  "That's a relief," Nzz-oonaz said. "I was afraid you'd been staked out in a stream somewhere for the savagefish."

  " 'You'd be surprised,' " the wry answer came back. " 'I know you're probably not supposed to be talking to me at all, so I'll keep this brief. Do you happen to have the metabolic data from the two Mrachanis we brought back to Oaccanv from Base World Twelve?' "

  "The ones who warned us about the Human-Conquerors and then died?" Nzz-oonaz asked, swiveling a reader toward him and keying it on. "I think so. Why?"

  He had the proper data located by the time the Elder returned. " 'I've got some metabolic baselines now for these two Mrachanis, and they don't seem to fit. But I don't have the original data to compare it with, so I thought maybe I was just remembering it wrong.' "

  "Well, I've got the original data in front of me," Nzz-oonaz told him. "Go ahead and read me your numbers, and I'll read you these, and then we'll both have a set of each."

  " 'Sounds good. Okay: oxygen metabolic usage: twelve-point-seven per hunbeat...' "

  It took several hunbeats to get all the numbers transferred back and forth. And when they were finished, it was clear to Nzz-oonaz that Thrr-gilag's memory wasn't the problem. "You're right, this makes no sense at all," he said, flicking his tongue thoughtfully as he gazed at the parallel columns of numbers. "It almost looks like those other two Mrachanis were from an entirely different subspecies."

  " 'You've seen a lot more Mrachanis than I have. Is that possible?' "

  "Probably not," Nzz-oonaz had to concede. "I haven't seen any evidence of separate species or subspecies. None of their information lists mention such a thing, either."

  He frowned as the Elder headed off with his message, gazing at the numbers again. There was a pattern there-he could almost taste it. But where was it?

  " 'There's one other possibility,' " Thrr-gilag's answer came back a hunbeat later, " 'though I almost hesitate to bring it up. Klnn-dawan-a just pointed out to me that the Base World Mrachanis' metabolic rate would be consistent with some kind of slow poisoning.' "

  Nzz-oonaz's tail twitched. There it was-the pattern he hadn't quite seen. "Klnn-dawan-a's a genius," he said, motioning the Elder to follow as he headed toward the study group's analysis room. "She's absolutely right. I don't know why none of us saw it before."

  He had the analyzer going by the time the Elder returned. " 'I'll bet it's because the Mrachanis there haven't let you do any real examinations. I know ours here tried everything to get out of letting us look at them.' "

  "You're half-right," Nzz-oonaz said as he keyed in the numbers Thrr-gilag had given him. "They've agreed to let us examine them, but somehow it's never happened."

  " 'Without your even noticing, I'll bet. You know, I'm starting to get a really uneasy sense about these aliens.' "

  "Welcome to the group," Nzz-oonaz said grimly. "The numbers are starting to come up. It's a toxin pattern, all right. And if the extrapolations are correct, the initial metabolic poisoning occurred just about a fullarc before they reached Base World Twelve."

  " 'That would be right after they were captured by the Cakk'rr warship?' "

  "Right," Nzz-oonaz confirmed. "And I'm not suggesting the Cakk'rr had anything to do with it."

  The pause this time was longer, and Nzz-oonaz could visualize Thrr-gilag reluctantly coming to the same uncomfortable conclusion he himself had already reached. " 'Are you saying the Mrachanis poisoned themselves? Why would they do something like that?' "

  "To achieve precisely the result they got," Nzz-oonaz said. "They were in a coma most of the way back to Oaccanv, woke up just long enough to deliver a warning about the Human-Conquerors to the Overclan Seating, and then died."

  He threw a glance around the analysis room. "Sacrificing themselves so that we wouldn't have any other way to learn about them except to send a ship here."

  " 'You think it's a trap, then?' " the reply came back. " 'That they're working with the Humans?' "

  "I don't know," Nzz-oonaz said, flicking his tongue in a negative. "It could be. Personally, I'd guess they're doing this entirely on their own. Maybe they're telling the truth about being under Human-Conqueror domination and thought this was the only way to get us to talk to them."

  " 'Maybe. Either way, we'd better alert Warrior Command and the Overclan Prime about it.' "

  "Absolutely." Nzz-oonaz glanced at his armwatch. "I'll do it-I'm due to speak with the Prime in another twenty hunbeats anyway. Don't worry, though; I don't think they really trust the Mrachanis either. Certainly not after the events at Phormbi this postmidarc."

  The Elder flicked his tongue. "You shouldn't refer to the Phormbi battle, Searcher Nzz-oonaz," he said.

  "Yes, you're right." Nzz-oonaz nodded. These former warriors could be a pain under the tongue sometimes, what with their rambling reminiscences and generally obsolete suggestions on how things had been done back in their fullarc. Occasionally, though, listening to them could help keep you out of trouble. "Send everything but that last sentence."

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

  He was back a few beats later. " 'All right. I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing, Nzz-oonaz. Thanks for the information.' "

  "No problem," Nzz-oonaz assured him. "Thankyou and Klnn-dawan-a for figuring out this metabolism thing. Farewell."

  " 'Farewell.' "

  And that was that, Nzz-oonaz said to himself: possibly the last stitch in the edgework on this proposed attack on Earth. Warrior Command, already leery, would undoubtedly insist on more evidence of Mrachani trustworthiness before risking their warships on such a mission.

  Which might save them from a second ambush. Or might spook the Mrachanis into calling down the Human-Conquerors on them if they were in fact working for the enemy. Or might irreparably damage a potentially useful alliance if they weren't.

  Or might do nothing at all except give the Human-Conquerors the time they needed to finish assembling CIRCE.

  Nzz-oonaz grimaced, a sour taste under his tongue. Fortunately, he supposed, none of these potentially disastrous decisions were his to make. In this case he was little more than the communicator.

  He looked at his armwatch again. Never mind the schedule; this one was important enough to interrupt Warrior Command. "Elder?"

  "No," Commodore Montgomery said firmly. "Absolutely not."

  "I'd respectfully request you reconsider, sir," Daschka said. His tone was quiet and respectful, but Montgomery wasn't fooled: the man had the full quota of arrogant self-confidence that seemed to come standard issue with NorCoord Military Intelligence operatives. "This is our chance to find out where this Zhirrzh raiding party came from."
>
  Montgomery snorted. "Trust me, Mr. Daschka, we know exactly where they come from. In fact, we were supposed to be delivering this same sort of message to one of their worlds. Now I presume that delivery will be put on indefinite hold."

  "What I mean is that this is our opportunity to learn whether or not the Zhirrzh and Mrachanis have put together some kind of deal," Daschka said. "Coincidentally or otherwise, they're currently headed off on a vector that will keep them out of range of every other Peacekeeper tachyon detector in these two sectors. If we let them get out of our range, too, we'll lose them."

  One of the command ring displays flicked on: the damage report on theAntelope was finally in. "You have a ship, Mr. Daschka," Montgomery reminded the other tartly, running his eyes down the list. Not good, but it could be a lot worse. "If you want to go chasing after Zhirrzh warships, be my guest."