by Timothy Zahn
Pheylan hadn't even missed the survival pack yet. He looked around, but wherever it had ended up, it was out of his immediate sight. "You're suggesting I surrender."
"I see no other alternatives. I'm sorry."
Pheylan sighed. So much for his big grandstand scheme to come here and help his sister. And to wind up a Zhirrzh prisoner again on top of it. If he lived through this, he was never going to live it down. "I'm sorry, too, Max," he said.
He took a deep breath. "Hey!" he shouted. "Down here!"
Parlimin VanDiver was halfway through his third glass of claretee when the word finally came through. "Ah," Paallikko said, looking at the terminal at his side. "At last. Yes, Parlimin VanDiver, Lord Cavanagh and Liaison Bronski were indeed here on Mra. Unfortunately, that is no longer true. It appears they both left five hours ago for Mra-mig."
VanDiver swallowed a curse. That figured. Once again, regular as nuclear clockwork, Cavanagh had found a way to waste some of his precious time. "Where on Mra-mig were they going?"
"The information does not say," Paallikko said, his voice heavy with regret and an echo of VanDiver's own irritation. At least he understood that a NorCoord Parlimin didn't have this kind of time to squander. "We only know their destination from the fact that the servicer who refueled their spacecraft happened to overhear them discussing it."
VanDiver tapped at his glass with a fingernail. "What about a skitter? Can we send a message ahead asking them to hold him?"
"The scheduled message skitter has already left," Paallikko said. "I could of course send a diplomatic skitter, but I'm afraid it would be of only limited benefit. Liaison Bronski's ship is courier-class, which means the skitter would still arrive at Mra-mig behind him."
"That figures," VanDiver growled. A courier-class ship: twice as fast as a normal stardrive, at five times the cost. Undoubtedly at government expense, too. Just one more irritation, plus one more charge to add to the mental list he was preparing for the prosecutor general.
"Shall I order your ship to be refueled?" Paallikko asked. "A courtesy, of course, with no cost to the NorCoord Parliament."
"Yes, thank you," VanDiver said. If Cavanagh was gone, there was no sense hanging around Mra anymore. "I'd also like you to send that diplomatic skitter on ahead, just in case they're planning to stay on Mra-mig for a while. At my personal expense, of course."
"The skitter will be prepared," Paallikko said, tapping keys on his terminal. "But at Mrach expense. I insist."
No doubt about it, these Mrachanis knew how to treat visiting dignitaries. "Again, I thank you," VanDiver said, setting down his glass and climbing to his feet. "And for your hospitality, as well. I'm in your debt."
"Not at all," Paallikko assured him, standing up as well. "It is always a pleasure to deal with men like you. A very great pleasure, indeed."
24
The Human-Conqueror prisoner Srgent-janovetz straightened up, turning his head back and forth to the side. "What can you tell me?" Thrr-mezaz asked him.
The optronic speaker on his shoulder gave the translation, and Srgent-janovetz replied. "The left leg's definitely broken," the Zhirrzh words came from the translator link in Thrr-mezaz's ear slits. "Was he unconscious when you found him?"
"I'm told he was conscious then, but that he lost consciousness when they moved him into the transport," Thrr-mezaz said. "Can you heal him?"
Srgent-janovetz looked down at the injured Human-Conqueror as he spoke. "No," the translation came. "I'm not that skilled a healer."
"Mm." Thrr-mezaz looked over at Thrr-gilag. "What do you think? Should we turn him over to our own healers, or ask the Human-Conqueror commander to send us one of theirs?" But Thrr-gilag wasn't looking at him. He was instead staring intently into the unconscious alien's face. "Thrr-gilag?" Thrr-mezaz said, slapping at his brother's spinning tail. "You want to join in this conversation?"
"Sorry," Thrr-gilag said without looking up. "I was just... I might be wrong, Thrr-mezaz, but I think this is Pheylan Cavanagh."
Srgent-janovetz's face turned back up as the translation came through. "Did you say Pheylan Cavanagh?" he asked.
"Yes," Thrr-mezaz said. "Do you know of him?"
Srgent-janovetz seemed to hesitate before he spoke again. "I know one of his family," the translation came. "His sister."
Thrr-gilag looked at Thrr-mezaz. "I need him to be healed, Thrr-mezaz," he said. "I'm willing to go to the Human-Conqueror commander to ask for a healer for him."
Thrr-mezaz frowned at his brother. "Why the sudden interest?"
Thrr-gilag flicked his tongue toward the injured Human-Conqueror. "Back on Base World Twelve he had the chance to raise me to Eldership. Yet he didn't. I want to know why."
"It could be dangerous," Thrr-mezaz warned. But even as he spoke, it suddenly occurred to him that this was exactly what they'd been looking for: the perfect excuse to get Prr't-zevisti's new cutting in range of the Human-Conqueror stronghold.
"I'm willing to take that risk," Thrr-gilag said. And from the way he was blinking at Thrr-mezaz in their private code, it was clear he'd already realized that. Which meant this conversation was as much for the listening Elders' benefit as it was for his.
"I don't like it," Thrr-mezaz said, putting some reluctance into his voice. "But you're probably right. You - Srgent-janovetz - would your commander be willing to send a healer here?"
Srgent-janovetz nodded. "Yes, I think so," the translation came in Thrr-mezaz's ear. "Especially if you tell the commander who it is."
Thrr-mezaz looked questioningly at Thrr-gilag, but his brother flicked his tongue in a negative. Perhaps Pheylan Cavanagh was a member of an important family or clan. That might explain, in fact, why they'd gone to such effort to rescue him from Base World 12.
And might imply they would go to equal effort to rescue him now.
It was not a situation Thrr-mezaz would welcome, considering the shape of his ground defenses. But he would slice that rope when he reached it. "I'll have a transport prepared," he said. "In the meantime, Srgent-janovetz, do what you can for him."
The storage cavern appeared to be deserted, but as Melinda stepped to the door of the electronics-reconfiguration chamber, she gave the area a last casual sweep just to be sure. No one was visible. Gripping the handle, she swung the heavy metal door open and slipped inside. "Prr't-zevisti?" she called, pulling the door closed behind her. "Are you awake?"
The ghostly form appeared in front of her; involuntarily, Melinda flinched, shying back to bump against the door. She was never going to get used to this. "I do not sleep, Doctor-Cavan-a," the Elder said in that thin, distant voice of his.
"No, of course not," Melinda said. "I'm sorry."
"You need not to be sorry," the Elder assured her. "What has your commander to tell me?"
"He didn't send me," Melinda said. "Actually, I'm not even supposed to be here."
Prr't-zevisti's expression changed. "Why do you risk defying your commander?"
"Because I believe you're telling the truth about not being a spy," Melinda said. "The problem is convincing Colonel Holloway of that. I came here hoping you'd come up with a way to do that."
The insubstantial tongue flicked out. "I have not found an idea. Why does he not believe?"
"I don't know," Melinda said with a sigh. "Maybe he's afraid to. He's the one responsible for the lives of all these people, both the warriors and the civilians. That's a heavy burden, and he takes it very seriously."
"And yet you do not?"
Melinda shrugged. "I'm a healer, and because of that I often have responsibility for people's lives. But I don't have the same kind of total responsibility as Colonel Holloway." She smiled wryly. "Besides, I come from a family accustomed to taking calculated risks."
For a long moment Prr't-zevisti seemed to be digesting that. Or else was working his way through the alien words. "What do you say, then, Doctor-Cavan-a?" he asked. "Do you come here to free me?"
Melinda took a deep breath. That was in fact
exactly what she'd been planning to do when she came here today. But now, staring into that translucent alien face, the doubts were beginning to trickle back. She was willing enough to risk her own life on this; but could she unilaterally make that same decision for the others living here under the Zhirrzh threat? If Prr't-zevisti was lying - if his report back to the Zhirrzh commander led to the destruction of this refuge - then she would be directly responsible for the deaths of thousands of people.
But if he wasn't lying - if the war really was an accident of misunderstanding - then inaction on her part would mean condemning those same people to a war neither side really wanted. And not just the Peacekeepers and civilians here, but humans and nonhumans all across the Commonwealth.
And put in those terms, there was only one thing she could do. "Yes," she told Prr't-zevisti, ungluing herself from the door and crossing the room to the shelf where his fsss cutting lay in its box. For a moment she stared at it; then, taking another deep breath, she reached out -
And with a gentle creak the door behind her swung open.
She spun around, a surge of blood flooding into her face, her memory flashing back to the day when her mother had caught her stealing one of their dinner steaks to give to a stray dog. Holloway was standing in the doorway gazing at her, his expression unreadable. "Doctor Cavanagh," he nodded, stepping into the chamber and pulling the door half-closed. "I thought I might find you here. Though I could swear I'd told you to stay away."
"Yes, you did," Melinda said, an odd mixture of defiance and guilt twisting through her stomach. No matter what she believed the right course of action to be here, the fact was that she'd been caught in the act of betraying Holloway's trust. And that hurt.
"I see," Holloway said. "Under normal circumstances that would have earned you one hell of a lot of trouble. But we don't have time for that now. A Zhirrzh aircar has landed near Sentry Post Nine. They're asking for a healer to attend to a human prisoner they've just captured."
Melinda blinked. "A prisoner? From where?"
"From a spacecraft that landed southwest of here a few hours ago." Holloway's face tightened. "Which we were too damn slow off our butts to get to first."
"I'm sorry," was all Melinda could think of to say.
"You're going to be sorrier," Holloway said. "According to the Zhirrzh, the prisoner is your brother Pheylan."
Melinda felt her mouth drop open, a horrible lightness suddenly gripping her vision. "Pheylan?" she breathed. "But how - ?"
"I don't know the hows or whys," Holloway said. "I only know that he has a broken leg, and that the Zhirrzh are offering to take one of our healers back to treat him."
With an effort Melinda broke the paralysis gripping her. "Of course," she said, starting toward the door. "I'll get my bag."
Holloway caught her arm as she started to pass him. "I want to make sure you understand this before you go, Doctor," he said. "If this was a purely humanitarian gesture, they could as easily have brought your brother here for treatment. The fact that they want you to go to them instead implies they're looking to pick up another hostage."
"I understand," Melinda said, trying to pull away from him.
He didn't let go. "I don't think you do," he said, his voice suddenly grim. "The fact that your brother made it here alive instead of being vaporized on the way down implies that their blockade may have suddenly developed a crack. Maybe more than a crack; maybe it's completely gone. Either way, it's time we gave it a little nudge."
Melinda stared at him. "Are you saying you're going to attack?"
Holloway's eyes flicked over her shoulder to where Prr't-zevisti was hovering, silently watching them. "I'm saying it's time to test their strength," he said. "Without going into details, it's suddenly become very urgent that we do whatever we can to get our civilians out of here. If the Zhirrzh have diverted their blockade ships to another theater of operations, now's the time for us to get a ship off and go for help."
"But you don't have to attack the ground base for that, do you?" Melinda asked.
Holloway's cheek twitched. "I wish we didn't. But we do. The ground base is undoubtedly acting as targeting spotter for the blockade forces, as well as being a threat to any incoming transports. It has to be neutralized."
"I see," Melinda said quietly. "Never mind that the war might be a mistake?"
"That's for the diplomats to work out," Holloway told her. "If we get off Dorcas, I'll be happy to tell them your theory. But until then I have a job to do."
"And anyone caught in the cross fire has to be considered expendable."
"Would you have me risk twenty-five thousand lives for your three?" he countered. "Or, rather, for their two? You don't have to go."
"Don't be ridiculous," Melinda bit out. "We're wasting time, and I still have to go get my bag."
Holloway let go of her arm and pushed open the door. "I've already had it sent for," he said. "It'll be waiting at Sentry Nine."
"Thank you." Melinda stepped past him into the doorway, then paused and turned around. "Farewell, Prr't-zevisti," she called, looking around for him. "I'll try to come back again soon."
But the pale form was nowhere to be seen, and her words brought no response. Turning back again, she left the chamber. Holloway sealed it behind them, then led the way across the cavern. "Can you at least tell me when you're going to attack?" Melinda asked as they ducked through the blackout curtain into the cool mountain air outside.
"You'll hear us coming," Holloway assured her. "You'd better not mention this to Janovetz or your brother, either. The Zhirrzh will undoubtedly be monitoring you, and I don't want them tipped off."
Holloway led the way around an outcropping of the cliff; and there it was, its milky-white hull gleaming brightly in the afternoon sunshine. A Zhirrzh aircar, surrounded by a semicircle of Peacekeepers, their Oberon assault guns leveled warningly. Standing a few meters in front of the aircar, under the wary eyes of more Peacekeepers, a single Zhirrzh was in the process of emptying the contents of his hip pouch onto the top of one of the rock-filled magnesium crates that had been set up to provide the sentries with some protection.
"Fuji's got your bag and some other supplies over there," Holloway said, nodding toward where Major Takara was standing watch over the whole operation. "Two of the tubes mixed in with the analgesics are phonies; you'll know them by the fake chemical names. They contain a low-yield binary explosive that you should be able to use to break out of whatever building they lock you into. Janovetz will know how to use them."
Melinda grimaced. "I understand. Any other surprises?"
"Yes." Holloway hesitated. "We've put in a vital-signs monitor for you. Among the usual electronics we've added a high-power white-noise radio transmitter."
Melinda stopped. "You've what?" she hissed. "Are you out of your mind? That's their idea of the ultimate weapon - what if they catch me with it?"
"They'll never know it's there," Holloway assured her. "The whole casing's metal - their Elders won't be able to even look inside."
"That's so very comforting," Melinda said icily, ashamed and enraged both by this betrayal. She'd given him all this Elderdeath information in good faith, assuming he would use it to help stop this war. Instead he'd taken Prr't-zevisti's gesture of trust and turned it back into a weapon. "Excuse me, please, my brother's waiting for me."
She pulled away from him, stalking off alone across the uneven ground toward the Zhirrzh aircar. Holloway made no move to follow, undoubtedly the smartest thing he could do. That stupid, rigid, military mind of his -
"Doctor-Cavan-a?"
Melinda jerked as if she'd touched a hot electrode, sheer momentum keeping her feet moving. Nothing was visible in the sunlight; but it had been Prr't-zevisti's voice.
Except that the configuration chamber had been sealed behind them...
"They have brought me another cutting," the Elder hissed. "It is resting on the box with other items. The box is metal - I cannot return to my fsss from there. Can you
move it?"
Melinda bit at the inside of her cheek. The Zhirrzh had finished emptying his pouch now and had taken a few steps back toward the aircar. His collection of artifacts was sitting in plain sight on the crate almost directly ahead of her, being ignored by the Peacekeeper squad. It would be easy enough to reach over as she passed and pick it up.
Except that Prr't-zevisti had been listening in the configuration chamber when Holloway was discussing his planned attack on the Zhirrzh base. For that matter, there was an even chance he'd also heard Holloway talking about the Elderdeath weapon he was planting on her. If she helped him get to where he could talk with other Zhirrzh...
"I will not tell what I have heard, Doctor-Cavan-a," Prr't-zevisti said. "I give you my promise of honor."
"Why not?" Melinda murmured back, trying to keep her lips from moving. "Your people's lives are at stake."
"Not their lives," Prr't-zevisti corrected her. "They would only be raised to Eldership."
"And that's not important to you?"
"It is very important," Prr't-zevisti said. "But it is more important that the war be ended quickly."
Melinda swallowed. "I would be trusting you with my life, Prr't-zevisti. Do you understand that?"
"With my promise of honor, Doctor-Cavan-a. I will not tell what I have heard."
And so there it was. Fifteen minutes ago she'd been willing to gamble with the lives of everyone up here in the mountains on the words and promise of an alien ghost. Was she equally willing to gamble her own life, right here and now, on those same words and promise? "All right," she said. "Where's the cutting?"
"In the small tube at the end," Prr't-zevisti said. Even with his alien intonations the relief in his voice was unmistakable. "Do you see it?"
"Yes," Melinda said. It was about the same diameter as a marking stylus, and about half its length. Small enough to palm, if she could get to it without anyone noticing. Here was her chance, she thought wryly, to see whether she could make it as a thief if her surgical career ever fell through. A shame Prr't-zevisti couldn't create a diversion - jump out at the Peacekeepers and say boo or something -