Timothy Zahn - Conquerors 02 - Conquerors' Heritage

by Conquerors' Heritage(lit)

Or maybe, just maybe, they already had an Elder in close....

  Thrr-mezaz flicked his tongue restlessly, trying to think it through. In its own way it was a wildly audacious idea, and certainly not one that was going to go down well with anyone else involved. And even he had to admit the odds of success were extremely low.

  But if it worked, it would be worth whatever grief they threw at him over it. Well worth it. "Communicator?"

  The Elder appeared. "I thought you were finished, Commander," he said, his tone just short of a grumble.

  "You have somewhere else you want to be?" Thrr-mezaz countered. "I want a pathway to the recorder of the Prr family shrine on Dharanv."

  The Elder blinked. "The Prr family shrine?"

  "That's right," Thrr-mezaz said. "Go on-it's getting late here and I want to get to sleep."

  "I obey," the Elder said, the bemused look on his face vanishing along with the rest of him.

  Thrr-mezaz turned back to his reader and the overview map. All right. What they needed was a spot out of view of the Human-Conqueror sentry points....

  The Elder was back. " 'I am fourth assistant recorder for the Prr family shrine,' " he said. " 'Speak, Commander Thrr-mezaz; Kee'rr.' "

  "I'm inquiring about thefsss organ of Prr't-zevisti; Dhaa'rr," Thrr-mezaz said. "What has been the disposition of it?"

  The Elder vanished, reappearing a hunbeat later. " 'Thefsss organ you refer to remains untouched in its niche. Why would you think it would be otherwise?' "

  "Excellent," Thrr-mezaz said. "Then I would like to request formally that a new cutting be taken from it as soon as possible. A cutting which will then be sent to me here at the expeditionary force beachhead on the Human-Conqueror world of Dorcas."

  The Elder stared at him, looking stunned. "Commander?"

  "Just deliver the message," Thrr-mezaz said.

  The Elder gulped. "I obey, Commander," he said, and disappeared.

  Thrr-mezaz flicked his tongue in a grimace and resettled himself again on his couch. The wait this time was likely to be a long one.

  He was right. It was nearly four hunbeats before the Elder returned. " 'This is a most irregular request, Commander Thrr-mezaz,' " he said. " 'Most irregular indeed. One might almost say it was illegal; one would certainly say it was a violation of generations of Zhirrzh tradition.' "

  "Nevertheless, I make it," Thrr-mezaz told him. "I believe that it would be in Prr't-zevisti's best interests, as well as aiding in our war efforts against the Human-Conquerors."

  "But Prr't-zevisti is dead," the Elder frowned.

  "The Prr family doesn't seem convinced of that," Thrr-mezaz pointed out. "Otherwise, why keep hisfsss organ intact? Deliver the message-let's see what they say."

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

  The pause this time was nearly as long as the previous one had been. " 'I cannot grant such a request, Commander. It is not within my authority to do so.' "

  "Then I suggest you confer as quickly as possible with your family and clan leaders," Thrr-mezaz said, putting an edge in his voice. "If Prr't-zevisti is still alive, this could be his best chance at survival. Possibly even his only chance."

  " 'I will do as you ask,' " the reluctant answer came back.

  "I thank you for your efforts," Thrr-mezaz said. "I'll expect a quick response."

  " 'I will do what I can.' " The Elder paused. "Commander, if you'll pardon a personal observation, this is not going to make you any friends among the Dhaa'rr."

  "No, I expect I already have all the friends among the Dhaa'rr I'm ever going to," Thrr-mezaz said. "Unless the recorder has something else, you may release the pathway. And this time Iam finished for the latearc."

  "I obey," the Elder said, his tone that of one disappointed with his commander, and vanished.

  Reaching to his reader, Thrr-mezaz keyed it off, stretching tired muscles in arms and shoulders. Let the Elder be disappointed with him. Let the whole expeditionary force be if they wanted to. Winning this war was the overriding consideration here. Nothing else mattered.

  Getting up from his couch, he crossed the office to the door. The next move was with the Dhaa'rr and the Prr family. He could only hope they were taking the war as seriously as he was.

  10

  It was a long ride by rail from Reeds Village to the Thrr family shrine. Long enough for the sunlight glinting through the railcar window to have burned away premidarc mists and wispy clouds to blaze brilliantly down through the uncustomary cloudless sky. Long enough, as Thrr-pifix-a gazed out the window, for her faint reflection on the glass to be replaced by an equally faint shadow.

  Long enough, certainly, for her to have changed her mind about what she was planning to do. But she hadn't. And as she walked down the path toward the towering white pyramid, she realized that that fact meant her decision was indeed final.

  The choice was made. She would not become an Elder. Ahead, the door into the leftmost protector dome slid open, and Thrr-tulkoj stepped out, laser rifle in hand. "Stand fast," he said, "and speak your name."

  "I obey the Protector of Thrr Elders," Thrr-pifix-a said, nodding politely. Thrr-tulkoj was an old friend of Thrr-gilag's, but the ritual nevertheless had to be observed. "I am Thrr-pifix-a; Kee'rr."

  "Who will prove your goodwill and intentions?"

  "I will," she said, picking out one of thekavra fruit from the rack and slicing it. The first time she'd ever done this, she remembered, she'd almost dropped thekavra at the sharp and bitterly strong taste of its poison-neutralizing juice. Now, with the slow fading of her senses, the fruit seemed depressingly bland.

  "And who will prove your right to approach?" Thrr-tulkoj asked.

  "Why, you will, of course," Thrr-pifix-a said, smiling at him as she dropped thekavra into the disposal container. "How are you, Thrr-tulkoj?"

  He smiled back, a combination of patience and wry humor in his expression. "I'm fine, Thrr-pifix-a," he said. "Come on, now-you know there's a protocol to be followed here."

  "Oh, but I did follow it," Thrr-pifix-a said. "I'm not here to talk to any specific Elder, you see. So you're the one who has to prove my right to approach."

  Thrr-tulkoj frowned slightly. "Ah," he said. "Well, all right, then. Advance, Thrr-pifix-a, and state your purpose here."

  "I just wanted to come and watch for a while," she said, glancing up at the shrine as she stepped forward. "See what the Elders do here, maybe join in a conversation or two. Just... see what it's like."

  "I understand," Thrr-tulkoj said quietly. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

  "No, thank you," she said. "I can manage."

  "All right," he said. "Feel free to take your time. I'll be here if you need me."

  He stepped back inside the guard dome, propping his weapon against the inside wall. Thrr-pifix-a waited until the door had sealed shut behind him; then, taking a deep breath, she headed toward the shrine. There were something like forty thousand niches there, identified only by number. But that wouldn't be a problem: the certificate she'd been given at the hospital when she was ten cyclics old had been carefully preserved in the memories book her mother had begun for her two fullarcs after her birth. She could find herfsss... and then all she would need would be a few beats of privacy.

  The numbers carved beneath each of the niches were small and difficult to see in the glare of the sunlight. She peered at some of the ones at eye level as she started walking slowly along the near wall of the shrine. 27781-too low. 29803-still too low, but going the right direction. 31822... 33850... 35830...

  And there it was, at waist height just before the shrine's edge. 39516: her niche. And resting there inside it...

  For a handful of beats she gazed through the mesh screen at thefsss that had been surgically removed from behind her brain so many cyclics ago. Such a small and fragile thing, it seemed to her. So unlikely a thing to have been the driving force behind so much of Zhirrzh history.

  But it had. And unless she completed what she'd set out to do
this fullarc, it would continue to drive her own history as well. For a long, long time.

  Heart thudding in her chest, her tail spinning like a foamed-ceramic mixer, she fumbled with suddenly trembling fingers at the mesh door's release catch. It came open with a explosivesnap that seemed to echo across the landscape. She glanced quickly around at the protector domes, her tail spinning faster than ever, sure that they must have heard that.

  But neither Thrr-tulkoj nor anyone else was in sight. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the niche and lifted the now loosened door-

  And without warning a figure stepped around the corner of the shrine, and a hand darted across to lock around her wrist. "I'm sorry, Thrr-pifix-a," Thrr-tulkoj said quietly, taking another step and capturing her other wrist. "You know you can't do that."

  "What are you talking about?" Thrr-pifix-a demanded, her voice quavering with shock and frustration despite her best efforts. "I just wanted to look at it."

  "Come on," the protector said, pulling her courteously but firmly away from the shrine. Holding her there with one hand, he resealed the mesh door she'd opened. "Come on," he said again, shifting to a hold on her upper arm and guiding her back along the path toward the domes. "I'll take you back to the rail, all right?"

  Thrr-pifix-a looked ahead down the path at the glistening mesh of the predator fence, the bitter taste of failure mixing with thekavra juice on her tongue. Just like that, her one chance was gone. "Please, Thrr-tulkoj," she whispered. "Please. It'smy fsss. My life. Why can't I do what I want?"

  "Because the law says so," he reminded her gently. "Along with hundreds of cyclics of Zhirrzh history."

  "Then they're wrong. The law and history both."

  "Perhaps," Thrr-tulkoj said. "It wouldn't be the first time tradition and reality had gotten out of step. But my job isn't to make law here. Just to enforce it." He looked sideways at her. "Maybe you should try talking to the family and clan leaders. Present your case to them."

  Thrr-pifix-a flicked her tongue in a negative. "They wouldn't listen to me. An old female, without any status or political standing?"

  Thrr-tulkoj shrugged. "You never know. Maybe there are others out there thinking the same thing who just haven't had the nerve to talk about it. Anyway, you're not nearly as status poor as you seem to think. What with Thrr-gilag out studying the Human-Conquerors and Thrr-mezaz out fighting them, the family leaders owe you at least a serious hearing. And don't forget, as soon as Thrr-gilag and Klnn-dawan-a are bonded, she can probably talk to the Dhaa'rr clan leaders for you, too."

  Thrr-pifix-a sighed. "Perhaps," she said.

  But he was wrong, and they both knew it. No clan leaders were going to take the time to hear the babbling plea of an old female. Not even if they weren't in the middle of a war.

  It was a long ride back home to Reeds Village. And seemed even longer.

  The last page of the last report rolled up off the display, and with a tired sigh the Overclan Prime turned off his reader. So the initial battles were over. The fourth and fifth Zhirrzh beachheads were now established on Human-Conqueror worlds, with encirclement forces on guard overhead. Two more expeditionary forces were preparing even now to lift off the main staging areas on Shamanv and Base World 11, bound for two other Human-Conqueror worlds, with five more groups being assembled from across the eighteen worlds. The reports coming in from captured territory were fairly glowing with success and victory. From all appearances the Zhirrzh counterattack against this new alien threat was going perfectly.

  The Prime knew better. The Zhirrzh forces were in fact teetering on the edge of disaster.

  The Prime sighed again, leaning back on his couch and staring morosely up at the overview star chart projected on his office wall. The Zhirrzh people didn't realize it, of course. Probably most of the clan Speakers didn't, either. But Warrior Command knew. And so did he.

  Because the Human-Conquerors weren't just sitting there accepting their defeats. They'd been taken by surprise, perhaps, by the vigor of the response to their attack on the Zhirrzh survey ships. But that wouldn't last. Already they were gathering their strength and striking back, more often than not with devastating results. The huge Nova-class warcraft mentioned in the captured recorder had made their appearances, as had the awesomely deadly Copperhead warriors. So far all the attacks had been beaten off, but at a steep price. The Kalevala encirclement forces were down to two combat-ready warships; the Massif forces were completely helpless. If the incredibly tough ceramic hulls hadn't disguised the internal damage, the Human-Conquerors would undoubtedly have been back already to finish the job. As it was, the warriors and technics had some breathing space to try to effect repairs.

  But they wouldn't have long. These were the Humans. The Conquerors. They would soon be back.

  And unless the beachheads had succeeded in locking a critical component away from them, the next time they came, they might have CIRCE with them.

  The Prime cursed softly under his breath as he gazed up at the star chart. They were spread too thin. That was the real summation line here: they were spread too cursedly thin. Worse, they were concentrated in the same general part of the Human-Conqueror empire, the sections denoted as Lyra and Pegasus Sectors. The enemy knew where to find them and could bring all their forces to bear with a minimum of logistical trouble.

  What the Zhirrzh needed was something to shake up the enemy, something to diffuse their focus. A bold strike into some other area of their empire, perhaps. Maybe even one of their more populous central worlds: Celadon, Prospect, Avon, or even Earth itself. It would be a risk, but a reasonably minimal one as long as they kept the strike brief. With warships impossible to track through the tunnel-line of stardrive, it would be a trivial matter to sneak across the Human-Conqueror empire to whatever world the Zhirrzh warriors chose to hit. At that point the uncertainties would be due mainly to the unknown defenses they'd find at the other end.

  "Overclan Prime?" a faint Elder voice came in the silence.

  The Prime looked up, stiffening to a respectful posture. Not just an Elder, but one of the twenty-eight Overclan Primes who had gone before him. "Yes, Eighteenth?" he said.

  "Your private chambers, if you please," the Eighteenth said shortly. "There are matters we need to discuss."

  "Certainly," the Prime said, a twinge of concern flicking through him as he stood up from his couch. The Eighteenth was about as imperturbable a personality as former Primes ever got. For him to be troubled meant something decidedly unpleasant was in the works.

  To the average Zhirrzh the Overclan complex was generally seen as a triumph of cooperation, a monument to openness and honesty between the clans. Cooperation there might be, at least after a fashion; the openness, however, was little more than a cleverly structured illusion. The main Overclan Seating chamber itself was open enough, certainly, accessible to Elders from two family shrines and a dozen of the smaller cutting pyramids. But only the chamber itself was accessible. The two office buildings, with their offices, conference rooms, and other work areas, had been carefully positioned to be just out of range of all of them.

  Only the two Overclan pyramids located in the Seating chamber itself had access to the entire complex. And it was regarding those that the cleverest stratagem of all had been created. On the vast open area between the chamber building and the two office buildings was a memorial display of some of the most powerful and deadly war machines the Zhirrzh had created throughout their long and violent history. A highly impressive display, too, with long-range cannon, fighter aircraft, and over twenty of the siege and battle machines that had rolled destruction and death across the battlefields of the three Eldership Wars. A mute reminder of what life on Oaccanv had been like before the creation of the Overclan Seating.

  That was what the visitors to the memorial saw. What they didn't see was that two of the siege machines were made entirely of metal. Metal that cast shadowlike spaces which the Elders from the main Overclan family shrine could not enter.


  The secure conference room in the Speakers' office building lay nestled in one of those shadows. The Overclan Prime's private chambers lay in the other.

  The existence of those carefully positioned shadows was a closely guarded secret, known only to the Prime and certain of the Overclan Speakers. And only the Prime knew that the two inaccessible areas were not, in fact,entirely inaccessible.

  The former Primes were waiting when he arrived in his chambers-all twenty-eight of them, in fact, by a quick count as the Prime sealed the door behind him. Another sign that this matter was something serious. "I greet the former Overclan Primes," he said, stepping over to his couch and sitting down. "To what do I owe the honor of this assembly?"

  "To a looming crisis," the Twelfth growled. "A crisis which, if not dealt with quickly and decisively, could conceivably rip apart the very fabric of Zhirrzh society."