Timothy Zahn - Conquerors 02 - Conquerors' Heritage

by Conquerors' Heritage(lit)

  Cvv-panav sniffed contemptuously. "Cooperation was invented by people who didn't have enough strength to win what they really wanted. You and I are warriors, Overclan Prime. We're beyond such things."

  The Prime flicked his tongue in disgust. "You've certainly recreated the attitude of the old High Warriors-I'll give you that much. Enough of this, and we won't need the Human-Conquerors to destroy our culture for us."

  "I would say it's precisely that warrior attitude that we need right now," Cvv-panav countered. "You can bet the Human-Conquerors didn't grow to dominate all within their reach by making compromises with inferior peoples. Tell me about CIRCE."

  The Prime felt his tail twitch. "CIRCE?" he asked as casually as he could. "What's that?"

  "Don't play coy with me, Overclan Prime," Cvv-panav warned. "You know perfectly well what CIRCE is. It's a Human-Conqueror weapon of great power. I want to know the details."

  The Eighteenth was still there. "I don't know what you're talking about," the Prime said. "Where did you hear about this CIRCE?"

  Cvv-panav snorted under his breath. "The High Warrior plays for time," he said, a note of disgust in his voice. "Fine; so be it. I have as much time as you do... and when your obvious little warrior net comes up empty, you'll tell me what I want to know. Or else I'll bring you down, and the entire Overclan along with you."

  The Prime grimaced. So Cvv-panav knew all about the warrior net he'd set around the Thrr family shrine. "Perhaps," he said, his mouth and voice stiff. "We'll see. In the meantime, as you pointed out, it's rather late. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

  "Certainly," Cvv-panav said, settling himself more comfortably on his couch. "Go right ahead. We have all latearc."

  There was a flicker of light, just visible out of the corner of his eye, and with a frown Thrr-tulkoj looked up from his reader. Odd; the weather forecast hadn't made any mention of lightning. Letting his lowlight pupils widen, he scanned the sky beyond the shrine.

  It was certainly cloudy enough in that direction, but they weren't the sort of clouds that generally spawned thunderstorms. Even as he studied them, though, there was another flicker of light, this one off to his right. He turned quickly, just in time to catch a third flash from over the hills that dotted the eastern horizon. And it had definitely not looked like lightning.

  It had looked like laser fire.

  Eyes still on the hills, he fumbled for the key that activated his direct-link to the other dome. "Thrr-aamr?" he called. "Take a look at the horizon due east."

  There was no answer. "Thrr-aamr? Come on, look alive."

  Again, no answer. Of course: Thrr-aamr was probably still walking the perimeter. Peering out at the predator fence half a thoustride away, Thrr-tulkoj keyed off the direct-link and reached instead for the control to the loudspeaker he used to summon Elders. The noise would cut into their debate over in Cliffside Dales, of course, but that couldn't be helped. Anyway, it wouldn't be any worse for them than if he stepped outside the dome and shouted.

  He paused, his fingers resting on the switch. Thrr-aamr wasn't walking along the predator fence, at least not any part of it Thrr-tulkoj could see. In fact, the younger protector was nowhere to be seen.

  Thrr-tulkoj looked around the fence again, an unpleasant tingle running through him. No; no mistake. Thrr-aamr had vanished.

  Unless he was back in his dome and the direct-link had simply malfunctioned. Sure; that was probably what had happened. All Thrr-tulkoj had to do was step outside, tap on Thrr-aamr's dome, and the two of them together could then have a nice calm discussion about what kind of phenomenon could produce lightning that looked like laser fire.

  Thrr-tulkoj's hand was still resting on the loudspeaker switch. He let it go, inactivated, moving his hand instead to the laser rifle propped against the dome beside the door. Sliding off his couch, he punched the door release and slipped outside.

  The sun was long gone beneath the horizon, and the shifting breezes had turned chilly. For a few beats Thrr-tulkoj crouched beside the dome, laser rifle held ready, ear slits straining for any unusual sounds. Nothing. His lowlight pupils were already fully open, and now that he was outside the darklight-blocking effect of the dome, he let his darklight pupils widen as well. The landscape around him took on tinges of heat-radiant glow; carefully, methodically, he began a slow sweep of the parts of the shrine enclosure he could see.

  Nothing.

  Swearing under his breath, he moved a quarter of the way around the side of his dome and started the search again. This was stupid. It really was. Chances were good Thrr-aamr was sitting inside his dome right now, either completely oblivious to Thrr-tulkoj's antics out here or else watching in bemusement as his superior made a fool of himself. He ought to just go over and pound on the door-

  He froze. There, across by the bluff overview, something was lying on the ground beside the predator fence. About the size of an adult Zhirrzh.

  Not moving.

  "Of course it was obvious to me from the start what you really had in mind when you suggested this operation," Cvv-panav commented. "People close to me, I believe you specified when we talked; people I could implicitly trust. People whose very identity would indict me along with them when your net of warriors caught them with a stolenfsss organ in hand."

  "I had nothing of the sort in mind," the Prime said. "The Overclan warriors are surrounding the Thrr shrine solely to provide your people with cover. To make sure no one wanders into the area at an awkward time."

  "Ah," Cvv-panav said. "So you admit that there are warriors there?"

  "It wouldn't do much good to deny it," the Prime pointed out. "You've obviously already had word from your own people that they're there.My question is, what are you doing to them?"

  "The High Warrior worried about his warriors?"

  The Prime locked eyes with him. "The Overclan Prime concerned about those under his authority," he bit out. "What are you doing to them?"

  Cvv-panav's mouth twitched. "It depends on how peacefully they surrender," he said, some of the arrogance gone from his voice. "Assuming the idea of Eldership holds no great fascination for any of them, they should all be lying on the ground by now with laser rifles held against theirfsss scars. Unhurt."

  "And if they decided instead to fight?"

  Cvv-panav shrugged. "I sincerely hope that's not the case. I have no particular desire to raise any of them to Eldership."

  "I'm pleased to hear that," the Prime said bitterly. "I don't suppose any of that altruism might come from the fact that raising them to Eldership would put them in instant contact with the Elder community and flash the alarm all across Oaccanv."

  Cvv-panav shrugged again. "My people know what they're doing. Tell me about CIRCE."

  "I trust your people will also remember that the Overclan warriors standing by near Reeds Village are there to arrest Thrr-pifix-a after herfsss has been delivered to her," the Prime said, ignoring the other's question. "If they're delayed too long, she'll have time to destroy it."

  "Ending any chance of burying the incident without a public trial," Cvv-panav nodded. "Don't worry, Overclan Prime. I'm watching over the Dhaa'rr clan's interests here. All of our interests. Now, are you going to tell me about CIRCE? Or shall I instruct the Dhaa'rr Elders to begin spreading the word about this mysterious Human-Conqueror weapon that has the Mrachanis so frightened?"

  The Prime grimaced. So that was how Cvv-panav had found out about CIRCE. Bad; but not as bad as it might have been. The Mrachanis who'd landed at the Dorcas beachhead had said little more than CIRCE's name before Warrior Command had been able to stifle that line of discussion. It was too bad that one of the Elders in attendance had leaked the name to Cvv-panav, but at least he didn't have the whole story.

  But even with just a name he had enough of a lever to do some serious prying with. And if he chose to have this out in public in the Overclan Seating, nothing about CIRCE would stay a secret for long.

  So it all hung on what happened in the next
couple of tentharcs out in Kee'rr territory-on his people's skill, and on the accuracy of his own perception of how Cvv-panav saw the universe and his own place in it.

  "I have nothing to say right now about CIRCE," he told Cvv-panav. "Except that it's something that must be kept secret."

  Cvv-panav smiled. "In other words, you still have hopes that your warriors will prevail out there and bring me down. Very well; I can wait. When word comes that my people have completed their mission and successfully vanished into the darkness of latearc, perhaps you'll recognize that your choices are between a private briefing or a public battle."

  "Perhaps," the Prime said. "Or perhaps an entirely different word will come to you. Shall we wait here together and see?"

  Cvv-panav eyed him, the first hint of uncertainty flicking across his face. "Certainly," he said. "Why not."

  It was Thrr-aamr, all right, lying there in a crumpled heap at the base of the predator fence. Unconscious, a swelling lump already forming at the base of his skull where he'd been hit. Beside him was a neat cut in the mesh of the fence, just big enough for a Zhirrzh to crawl through, directly over the steepest part of the bluff.

  Someone had penetrated the enclosure.

  Thrr-tulkoj swore again, this time meaning it, as he dropped flat on the ground beside Thrr-aamr and swung his laser rifle around to firing position. He couldn't see anything moving or radiating near the shrine, but that didn't prove much. He-or they-could be around on the far side of the shrine right now, out of Thrr-tulkoj's sight. Besides, intruders clever enough to breach the fence at the one spot no protector would ever expect trouble would certainly be clever enough to be wearing darklight-suppressing combat suits while they did it.

  They would also be clever enough to crawl across the ground, lest someone watching from the protectors' domes spotted them. Which would take time. Which meant that unless Thrr-aamr had happened to have the misfortune of catching them on their way out, the intruders were most likely still here.

  Pressed against the ground, his tail spinning rapidly, Thrr-tulkoj peered across the open ground and wondered what in the eighteen worlds he was going to do. The simplest, most straightforward thing would be to shout as loud as he could and hope that at least some of the Elders on this side of the shrine would hear him. If he could get a warning into the Elder community, the whole planet could be aroused in a matter of hunbeats.

  But there was no guarantee that his voice would carry well enough against the latearc breezes for anyone to hear him. Except maybe the intruders. And if they were armed-and they almost certainly were-then at the first sign of trouble from him they would do their best to raise him to Eldership.

  Thrr-tulkoj wasn't afraid of Eldership. The threat of premature raising was supposed to come with this job. But if he was raised now, it would leave the Elders and the shrine completely defenseless.

  Steady,he told himself firmly, pressing closer against Thrr-aamr.Think it through. You're a trained protector, and you're a long way from being helpless here. Think it through.

  He should have used the loudspeaker right at the beginning, of course. In backsight that was painfully clear. But the procedures stated explicitly that the Elders were not to be alerted in cases of suspected intrusion, probably because every such incident for the past hundred cyclics had turned out to be a false alarm. Thrr-tulkojhad hit the direct-link emergency signal mounted to the side of the dome before heading over here; the fact that there hadn't yet been a response from Cliffside Dales implied that the intruders must have cut the cable somewhere before breaking in. Either that, or the system had simply fallen apart from disuse.

  The best thing would be if he could get back to the dome. The loudspeaker would let him sound the alarm, not to mention the laser protection the one-way ceramic would afford him if it came down to a battle.

  Unfortunately, nearly half a thoustride of open ground lay between him and the domes right now. Worse, he hadn't been particularly surreptitious on his way over to the fence. If the intruders had spotted him, they were undoubtedly watching and waiting for his next move. Probably with lasers already pointed his direction.

  Which left him really only one option. He would have to slip through the hole the intruders had made in the fence, make his way down the bluff and over to the rail stop near the gate, and use the direct-link installed there to sound the alert. It would be a tricky climb, and it would mean leaving the shrine undefended, but there was nothing he could do about that. Keeping a close eye on the area around the shrine, he started to ease his way around Thrr-aamr-

  And froze, listening. A new sound was drifting in to him over the latearc breezes. A transport, somewhere in the near distance.

  The reinforcements from Cliffside Dales had arrived.

  Moving his head as little as possible, Thrr-tulkoj searched the sky for the craft, a fresh surge of excitement rippling through him. Protector laser rifles were infinitely adjustable, in both intensity and spread angle, and there was a specified procedure for tuning the power and muzzle-coning down far enough to make the weapon into a safe flash-code signaler. A signaler, moreover, whose beam would be easily visible to the transport pilot and yet wouldn't sizzle the atmospheric water enough to produce emissions visible in any other direction. He could start with a simple three-two-three distress signal....

  He frowned, his hands pausing midway through the necessary adjustments. The hum of the transport's engines had choked suddenly, dissolving into the sharp crackle characteristic of a misfiring transkilmer. Was the transport in trouble? He looked around the sky again, but he couldn't spot any running lights in the direction the sound was coming from. Odd. Had the transport's optronics failed, too? No; of course, the warriors would be trying to make an invisible approach. The hum returned, crackled again; returned, crackled again; returned, crackled again-

  And then, in the middle of the last crackle, he abruptly understood. The noise wasn't coming from engine failure, at least not from unintentional engine failure. It had been deliberately created, designed for a very specific purpose.

  To cover up the sound of afsss -niche cover being opened.

  For a beat Thrr-tulkoj's mind flashed back four fullarcs to that attempt by Thrr-gilag's mother to steal back herfsss. Thrr-pifix-a herself couldn't have climbed the bluff, certainly, but she might have found friends or relatives to do it for her.

  He glanced down at Thrr-aamr's unconscious form. No. He knew Thrr-pifix-a and her family, and none of them would ever have condoned violence of this sort against one of her shrine's protectors.

  But then who? And why?

  The transport's engines had settled down again to their normal hum, and from the sound of it, the vehicle was veering off. Apparently its sole job had been to cover the noise of the intruders opening their target niche.

  Thrr-tulkoj gripped his rifle harder, the brief flicker of hope giving way again to frustrated indecision. The intruders had one of the niches open now, with free access to thefsss organ inside. But surely the owner would have felt their touch by now and come back to investigate.

  But no Elder had yet appeared. Were they dealing with thefsss of someone who was still a physical, then?

  Again Thrr-tulkoj's thoughts flicked to Thrr-pifix-a. But again he rejected the idea that she could possibly be behind this. This was something vicious, like the bitter living-death feuds of nine hundred cyclics ago.

  He winced at the thought.Living death: the deliberate destruction of an enemy physical'sfsss. The exquisite torture of leaving him to live out his physical life with the knowledge that nothing but certain death awaited him at the end of it. Such feuds had once been widespread on Oaccanv, ultimately precipitating the Second Eldership War. If someone was trying to resurrect the abominations of that era...

  He stiffened. Over at the shrine a figure had raised itself up from the ground. For a beat it stood there, silhouetted against the white ceramic. Then, crouching low, it headed across the enclosure.

  Directly toward Thrr-tulkoj.<
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  Thrr-tulkoj pressed his tongue hard against the inside of his mouth, quickly readjusting his laser rifle back to full power. The figure was still coming, blatantly arrogant in his presumption that no protector would dare fire on him with a shrine at his back. Lifting his laser rifle a fraction, Thrr-tulkoj peered through its sights. Right or wrong, it was time to make a move. Taking a deep breath and holding it, he settled his thumbs against the rifle's triggers.

  His only warning was a whisper of sound from above him... and by then it was too late. Too late to react; too late to move; too late to do anything but realize to his shame and chagrin that the enemy had outmaneuvered him one final time. Against the sudden hum of the returning transport came the faint flopping sound of something semirigid flying through the air toward him-

  And suddenly he was hammered flat against the ground as the black stickiness of a tar slab slammed into him.

  He dropped his weapon, turning half-over and pushing upward against the sticky, semisolid blackness. It molded itself around his hands, the sides folding gradually but inexorably in toward his body. He tried pulling his hands sideways in opposite directions, hoping to tear a hole in it. But the slab was too thick, the material too resilient, and he succeeded only in lowering the roof of the slowly shrinking cave he and Thrr-aamr were in. Desperately, he let go with one hand and grabbed for his laser rifle, swiveling it awkwardly in the cramped space and managing to get it jammed up into the tar like a tent pole. Mentally pleading for good luck, he pressed the triggers.