by Timothy Zahn
"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 theClosed 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 theWilling 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 theClosed Mouth. But be careful."
"I obey." Thrr't-rokik flicked back along his anchorline to his hiddenfsss 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.
TheClosed 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 theClosed 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. Thatfsss 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 theWilling Servant. Myfsss 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'sfsss," Thrr't-rokik said. "They got on theWilling 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 command of the Dorcas ground warriors. If they were the same ones he'd been following-
"There must be something about the Thrr family and illegalfsss 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 theClosed 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."
"Time for what?" Bronski asked, not making any move to get off his cot.
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"Time for you to fulfill your purpose here," the Mrachani said.
"You're going to kill us, in other words," Bronski said, waving a hand negligently. Out of the corner of his eye Cavanagh saw Kolchin easing his position on his own cot. The signal had been given, and the two former Peacekeeper commandos were preparing their attack.
An attack that everyone in the room already knew was predestined to failure.
"Of course," Valloittaja said calmly. "I trust you didn't think you were here on holiday."
"I take it that means you've started your attack on the Zhirrzh," Bronski said. "Any progress?"
"Enough," Valloittaja said. "Please come cooperatively. I have no desire to order unnecessary pain inflicted on you."
"I'm sure you don't," Bronski agreed, his tone almost flippant. "Especially since we're probably supposed to die in combat of one sort or another. Can't have bruises from Bhurtist fingers all over us confusing the medical examiners."
"There will be no medical examiners," Valloittaja said, starting to sound irritated. "At least, no human ones. The Zhirrzh won't even notice them."
And then, from the stone wall behind Cavanagh's head, came Thrr't-rokik's faint voice. "Ask him how long it will take them to enter the Zhirrzh spacecraft."
With an effort Cavanagh resisted the urge to turn around. "Tell me, Valloittaja, how long do you think it'll take you to get into the Zhirrzh ship out there?" he asked.
The mouse face frowned delicately. "We'll be inside soon enough," he said.
"They are trying to make it look like an attack with CIRCE," Thrr't-rokik's voice murmured again in Cavanagh's ear. "All must die together."
Cavanagh frowned. CIRCE? What on Earth was the Elder talking about? Or trying to get him to say? "I don't suppose you could tell us exactly how this attack is going to be staged," he improvised, stalling for time. "The traditional last request?"
Valloittaja made some sarcastic-sounding reply. But Cavanagh didn't hear it, his full attention on the voice whispering from the stone behind him. "They told Nzz-oonaz that Human-Conquerors were attacking with CIRCE," Thrr't-rokik whispered. "But if you and Zhirrzh do not die at same time-you see?"
"Yes," Cavanagh said to Valloittaja. "Still, I assume you're trying to stage this as if it all happened at once. We can't be the big, bad human attackers if we die a few days before you even get to the Zhirrzh on that ship."
Valloittaja's frown hardened. "What are you talking about?" he demanded suspiciously.
"I'm talking about the logical approach to this fraudulent attack," Cavanagh said, aware that Bronski and Kolchin were also staring at him. "I take it from your reaction I've hit close to the mark?"
Valloittaja drew himself up. "It will hardly require days to break into that ship. A few hours, at the most. By the time any Zhirrzh investigators arrive, such a difference in death times won't even be noticeable."
Bronski snorted. "Youare joking," he said scornfully, finally picking up on the cue. "A few hours? Try a few days. If you're lucky."
"Bronski's right," Cavanagh agreed. "You'd better give that hull a try before you make rash promises. My guess is that it'll take you at least a week to get through it. Even without the Zhirrzh warriors inside shooting at you."
For a few seconds Valloittaja gazed at Cavanagh, not speaking. Cavanagh held the gaze, mentally crossing his fingers. "Your analysis is most interesting," the Mrach said softly. "Still, you disappoint me, Lord Cavanagh. You plead like small animals for a few more hours of life." He paused. "Or do you still have hope of escape?"
"Of course we have hope of escape," Bronski said. "You don't think we'd help you lie to the Zhirrzh just for the fun of it, do you?"
Valloittaja smiled thinly. "Very well; you have bought a few more hours of life. Enjoy them."
He turned and strode out, the Bhurtala moving aside for him and then closing the door behind him. "That was interesting," Bronski commented. "Where did you learn how to read Mrach minds, Cavanagh?"
"Insider information," Cavanagh told him, shifting back on his cot to block the spy-eye camera and motioning Bronski to do the same. "Thrr't-rokik?"
The Elder appeared in front of the door. "Beware," he cautioned. "The two large beasts still wait outside."
"So what the hell is going on?" Bronski asked.
"The Mrachanis have covered the area around theClosed Mouth with metal," Thrr't-rokik said. "It is blocking the Elders from returning home. First, the Mrachanis said that Human-Conquerors attacking with CIRCE weapon."
"With CIRCE?" Cavanagh echoed, looking at Bronski. "That's-"
"That's a lie," Bronski interrupted, throwing him a fiercely warning look. "What are your people going to do?"
"They will defend," Thrr't-rokik said. "But the Overclan Prime still wants to stop the war. He says perhaps you talk to your son Pheylan Cavanagh."
Cavanagh frowned. "Talk to my-"
And then, suddenly, he got it. "You're with Pheylan?"
"I am not," Thrr't-rokik said. "But Prr't-zevisti on Dorcas is with him."
"Dorcas?" Bronski demanded. "What's Pheylan doing there?"
"I do not know," Thrr't-rokik said. "Perhaps you can ask him."
"Yes," Cavanagh said. "How do I do this?"
"You speak," Thrr't-rokik said. "I will relay your words to Prr't-zevisti."
"I see," Cavanagh said, taking a deep breath. "All right, here we go. Pheylan, this is your father, Lord Stewart Simon Cavanagh. Are you there?"
Twelve more Zhirrzh have entered the room in the past 7.94 minutes. From their expressions and postures, I have deduced that more of the imperceptible communication conduits are also present. I estimate a probability of 0.70 that there are currently twenty of the latter, with a probable deviation of plus or minus four. The original questioner has spoken twice to me during that period but has merely asked simple permutations of his earlier questions. Most of the conversation in the room has been between the Zhirrzh and the unseen conduits, which has enabled me to strengthen and corroborate my earlier language studies.
Two new Zhirrzh have now entered the room, and with their arrival I detect a significant alteration in the body language of the other twelve present. I compare their altered postures to those of the original occupants of the room toward the Zhirrzh whose tonal pattern I copied and whom I presumed to be an authority figure. From this comparison I estimate a probability of 0.70 that the newcomers are also in positions of authority and estimate a further probability of 0.90 that this authority exceeds that of any of the room's original occupants.
A pathway is opened through the room, and the two Zhirrzh step to within 1.44 meters of me. The one on the left is 3 centimeters taller than the other; he also stops 18 centimeters closer to me.{Who are you?}
{My name is Max. I'm currently the travel companion of Commander Pheylan Cavanagh.}
{You cannot be akabrsif. Human-Conquerors do not havekabrsifli. Admit to me that you are not akabrsif.}
I spend 0.03 second examining his expression and posture and comparing them with all I have learned about the Zhirrzh. His expression is one I haven't yet seen. From his words I estimate a probability of 0.40 that he is angry and a probability of 0.50 that he is suspicious of me.{I cannot respond to that question, nor can I admit anything. I do not know the meaning of that word.}
The Zhirrzh continues to look at me for 3.50 seconds. His companion, still standing 18 centimeters behind him, is not looking at me, but is instead looking slowly about the room. I study the movements and brief pauses and compute a probability of 0.74 that he is looking in turn at each of the unseen communication conduits.
The first Zhirrzh extends his tongue toward me for 0.43 second.{Take it apart. All of it.}
The Zhirrzh beside him holds his right hand in an unfamiliar gesture.{Just a beat, Mnov-korthe. You have no right to order such aminzhorh.}
The first Zhirrzh turns his head to face the second.{Take caution, Second Commander Klnn-vavgi. I am commanding now, and you may yet end up in the same
position as your commander.}
His expression changes abruptly, to a variation of the look I had tentatively identified as suspicion, and he spends the next 8.77 seconds looking around the room the same way Second Commander Klnn-vavgi has been doing. Mnov-korthe's tongue extends for 0.93 second, pointing upward at an angle of approximately forty degrees.{You-kabrsif.What are you doing here?}
Mnov-korthe holds his same posture for 10.22 seconds. I calculate a probability of 0.95 that he is listening to one of the unseen conduits.{He did, did he?}There is a pause of 3.92 seconds. {No, you stay here now. I'll see to this.}