Conquerors' Legacy (4 page)

There is a distinct flicker in four of the polished metalwork surfaces within my line of sight. I examine the reflections and deduce that one of the still as-yet-unseen observers has crossed his arms across his chest. Further examination is inconclusive, but I estimate a probability of 0.60 that his expression has also changed.
Vice Admiral Omohundro looks in that direction, his expression also changing."You have a comment to make, Parlimin VanDiver?"
I have a name now, and I take 0.01 second to locate and study the appropriate file. Jacy VanDiver, fifty-five, from Grampians on Avon; appointed a member of the NorCoord Parliament in 2297. The file notes several acrimonious contacts between Parlimin VanDiver and Lord Cavanagh over the past fifteen years, involving both business and political matters. Another curious fact catches my attention: Parlimin VanDiver was also under consideration for a seat in the NorCoord Parliament in 2291 and 2294. In both instances Governor Fletcher of Grampians on Avon appointed Lord Cavanagh instead.
"Not at the moment, Admiral."Parlimin VanDiver's voice is rich and deep. Without a baseline reading I cannot perform a complete stress/emotion analysis. "Perhaps later."
Vice Admiral Omohundro continues to look at Parlimin VanDiver for another 0.63 second, then returns his attention to Security Chief Quinn."Very well, Mr. Quinn. As head of this hearing board, I hereby accept your offer. You are hereby reinstated as a lieutenant in the Copperheads and will report to Sector Commander Copperheads immediately for duty assignment."
Vice Admiral Omohundro picks up a gavel lying beside his right hand and raises it to a height of 16.5 centimeters above the table."This hearing is adjourned."
The gavel came down sharply on the table, and Pheylan Cavanagh breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
It was over.
"There we go," Admiral Rudzinski murmured from beside him as they stood up. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Pheylan smiled lopsidedly. "No, sir. Hardly even worth coming in for."
The admiral smiled wryly in return, then sobered. "You realize, of course, that this is hardly a triumph for any of them. They've escaped prison sentences so that they can be sent to the front lines of a war."
"That's where they should be, sir," Pheylan reminded him quietly. "We're Peacekeepers. That's our job."
And then Aric was there in front of him, trying hard not to grin and not succeeding all that well. "Well, that's over," he said, holding out a hand. "Thanks, Pheylan, for testifying for us."
Pheylan brushed past the outstretched hand and enveloped his older brother in a brief bear hug. "I think most of the debt is still on my side of the ledger," he reminded Aric as he stepped back again. "What are you going to do now?"
Aric grimaced. "I'm going to get the fueler released from impoundment and try to track Father down."
"Still no word from him?" Pheylan asked.
"No," Aric said. "I finally got a chance to talk to Captain Teva, though. It turns out Dad deliberately ordered him and theCavatina away from Mra-mig about two and a half weeks ago."
"Yes, I heard he'd been on Mra-mig," Rudzinski said. "What was he doing there?"
"Looking for information about the Zhirrzh that might help us find Pheylan," Aric told him. "That 'Conquerors Without Reason' title we've been using apparently originated from some Mrach legend."
"Did he find anything?" Rudzinski asked.
"Apparently not," Aric said. "At least that was the message he sent to Dorcas with theCavatina. After that, near as I can tell, he just dropped off the edge of the universe."
A breath of air brushed the back of Pheylan's neck, and he turned to find a burly, middle-aged man standing off to the side, listening silently to the conversation. "May we help you, sir?" he asked the man.
"This is Assistant Commonwealth Liaison Petr Bronski," Rudzinski said before the man could answer. "He works out of the Commonwealth consulate on Mra-ect. He saw Lord Cavanagh briefly on Mra-mig, and I asked him back here to see if he could shed any light on his disappearance."
"I wish I could help, Mr. Cavanagh," Bronski said. "But as I told Admiral Rudzinski earlier, I only saw your father for a few minutes in his hotel room in Mig-Ka City. There was some question about whether he was harboring a non-Mrach who was slated for deportation, and we were asked to check it out. My people and I searched his suite for the non-Mrach, found nothing, and left."
"That's interesting, Mr. Bronski," Aric said, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "What hotel did you say you spoke to him at?"
"I didn't say," Bronski said coolly. "It was the Mrapiratta Hotel."
"Yes, that's where Teva said he was staying," Aric agreed. "He also said he picked up a report on the way off-planet about a disturbance at that hotel. Gunfire, possibly even an explosion."
"An explosion?" Pheylan demanded. "You didn't tell me anything about this."
"Oh, Dad was okay," Aric assured him. "He was already outside the hotel when he phoned Teva and told him to get theCavatina off-planet."
Rudzinski cocked an eyebrow at Bronski. "You know anything about this?"
"We had a minor altercation with a couple of Bhurtala on our way out of the hotel," Bronski said with a shrug. "Nothing serious." His lip twisted slightly. "Except, of course, that dealing with the aftermath prevented me from getting back to see Lord Cavanagh. Otherwise, I might have been able to stop whatever it was that happened to him."
"Yes," Rudzinski murmured. "Still, I doubt that Lord Cavanagh's in any real danger. Mitri Kolchin is with him, and Kolchin was one of the best to ever come out of the Peacekeeper commandos. Wherever he's gotten to, he'll come back when he's ready." He pulled a card from his inner pocket. "In the meantime, we have a war to fight."
Pheylan came to reflexive attention. "Yes, sir. Are those my orders?"
"Yes," Rudzinski said, handing him the card. "Effective immediately, you're assigned to the inspection team going over what's left of your former prison on the world we've designated Target One."
"An inspection team?" Pheylan frowned at the card as he took it. "I asked to be assigned to whatever force is scheduled to attack the Zhirrzh beachhead on Dorcas. My sister, Melinda, was caught on the ground there when they attacked."
"I'm sure your request will remain under consideration," Rudzinski said. "But first we need to know everything we can about the threat we're facing. There may be something of significance on Target One that no one but you would recognize."
Pheylan grimaced. To be shunted off to sand-sifting duty while his sister sat helplessly beneath enemy guns...
But it made sense. Unfortunately. "Understood, sir."
"Good," Rudzinski said. "Your ship leaves in two hours. Details are on the card."
"Yes, sir." Pheylan turned back to Aric. "Aric-"
"I know," Aric said. "You just watch yourself out there, okay? I don't want to have to come after you again."
"Don't worry, you won't," Pheylan said, squeezing his older brother's shoulder. "You watch yourself, too."
"Max and I will be fine," Aric assured him. "I'll see you later."
He gave Pheylan one last smile, then turned and headed for the door. Quinn and the other Copperheads, Pheylan saw, had already left the room, presumably to pick up their own orders. Perhaps sometime in the two hours before his flight he'd be able to track them down and thank them one last time for risking their lives and careers to rescue him.
After today their careers were out of danger. The same couldn't be said about their lives. Not with the Zhirrzh out there.
The Conquerors.
He took a careful breath. "With your permission, Admiral?"
"Dismissed, Commander," Rudzinski said softly. "Good luck."
The Copperheads and Aric Cavanagh had gone their various ways, Admiral Rudzinski had headed back to the war room, the three presiding officers had likewise branched off to attend to business elsewhere, and Petr Bronski had the exit door in sight when the voice he'd been both expecting and dreading came from behind him.
"A word with you, Mr. Bronski."
Bronski slowed, half turning to look over his shoulder. Parlimin Jacy VanDiver was coming toward him, the silent bodyguard who'd been sitting beside him at the hearing tagging along. "I'm in something of a hurry, Parlimin VanDiver," he said. "Is this something the Commonwealth diplomatic office on Edo can handle?"
"No," VanDiver said flatly. "It's not."
Bronski grimaced to himself. But lowly assistant Commonwealth liaisons did not simply ignore senior NorCoord political powerhouses. "Yes, sir," he said, coming to a stop.
The bodyguard was good, all right. VanDiver didn't have to say a word; the other simply stepped to the nearest door-a media communications-processing office, from the tag on the wall beside it-glanced briefly inside, then nodded to his boss. "In here, Mr. Bronski," VanDiver said, waving at the open door. "If you don't mind."
As if he had a real choice in the matter. "Yes, sir," Bronski said. Stepping past beneath the bodyguard's watchful eye, he went inside.
The office contained four cluttered desks-currently unoccupied-drawn up like beleaguered soldiers around a centralized SieTec transfer-node computer terminal. VanDiver and the bodyguard came in behind him, the latter closing the door and taking up position beside it. "Have a seat?" VanDiver invited, sitting down at one of the desks and waving Bronski to his choice of the others.
"Thank you," Bronski said, choosing a seat that put the SieTec more or less between him and the bodyguard. "I have to tell you, sir, that I'm due at the Commonwealth liaison center in thirty minutes."
"I'll make it brief," VanDiver said. "I overheard your conversation a few minutes ago with Admiral Rudzinski and the Cavanagh boys. You lied to them."
He wasn't one for shaving words, that was for sure. "That's an interesting accusation, sir."
VanDiver lifted his eyebrows. "Is that all the reaction I get? No denials or cries of indignation? No reddening of the face at such an insult to your integrity?"
Bronski sighed. "I'm a very lowly Commonwealth civil servant, Parlimin," he reminded the other. "We're not encouraged to talk back to NorCoord government officials."
VanDiver leaned back in his chair. "Yes, Taurin Lee thought that was all there was to you, too," he commented. "You remember Taurin Lee, don't you?"
"Of course, sir," Bronski said, keeping his voice steady. "Mr. Lee approached my group as we were coming into the Mrapiratta Hotel. He identified himself as your aide, showed me the NorCoord Parliament carte blanche you'd given him, and informed me he'd be joining our meeting with Lord Cavanagh."
"And after that meeting?"
"As I told Admiral Rudzinski, we ran into trouble with some Bhurtala," Bronski said. "By the time we'd settled the matter with the Mrach authorities, Lord Cavanagh and his people had left Mra-mig."
"And Lee?"
Bronski spread his hands. "I really don't know. He left us while we were discussing the incident with the Mrach authorities."
VanDiver didn't move, but suddenly there was frost in the air. "That's a lie, Bronski," he said coldly. "Lee was with you when you chased Cavanagh to the Yycroman world of Phormbi. I have a skitter report from him from Mra-mig telling me you'd all be leaving within the hour."
Silently, Bronski bit down on the inside of his cheek. He would have sworn that Lee hadn't had a single chance during their time together to sneak any kind of message off to anyone. Apparently, the man was sharper than he'd realized. "With all due respect, Parlimin, I don't know what you're talking about," he told VanDiver, putting a slightly uncertain earnestness in his tone. "Perhaps he'd planned to join us for our trip, but if he did, he never talked to me about doing so."
VanDiver's expression cracked, just a little. So he wasn't absolutely certain. "You didn't say anything about this other trip to Admiral Rudzinski just now."
Bronski shrugged. "I didn't think there was any point in mentioning it, since we failed to find Lord Cavanagh on Phormbi. It's all in the complete report I filed."
"I'll make sure I get a copy," VanDiver said darkly. "Curious, isn't it? Stewart Cavanagh disappears, and no one can find him. At approximately the same time, at approximately the same place, one of my aides also vanishes. Coincidence, Mr. Bronski?"
Bronski put on his best bewildered frown. "Mr. Lee has vanished? When?"
"Apparently right after he sent that message from Mra-mig," VanDiver told him. "At least no one's heard from him since then."
"I see," Bronski murmured. "I don't know what to say, Parlimin VanDiver, except that I'll certainly initiate inquiries as soon as I get back to the consulate on Mra-ect." He half rose to his feet. "If that's all, sir, I really do have to be going."
"Sit down, Bronski," VanDiver said coldly. "I'm not finished."
Silently, Bronski lowered himself back into his chair. "Yes, sir?"
For a long moment VanDiver gazed at him, his face hard and angry and suspicious. "I don't know exactly what's going on here," he said at last. "But I can guess enough of it. Cavanagh's up to something, something on the edge of illegal or a little ways over the line, and he's got his old friends in Parliament and the Peacekeepers busy smoothing the track or looking the other way. This so-called hearing was just dripping with paybacks, from Admiral Rudzinski on down. Typical Cavanagh, all the way across the board."
His expression hardened a little more. "But this time it isn't going to fly. I'm going to take him down; and everyone who's tied in with him is going down, too.Everyone, Bronski. Do I make myself clear?"
Bronski nodded, appreciating the irony of it all. He was probably the last person in the entire Commonwealth interested in doing favors for Lord Stewart Cavanagh. "Very clear, sir," he said evenly. "May I go now?"
Slowly, VanDiver leaned back in his chair. "You're a cool one, Bronski," he said. "We'll see how cool you manage to stay."
"Yes, sir," Bronski said noncommittally, standing up and sidling past the bodyguard. "Good day to you, Parlimin."
He went through the exit door, passing between the two Peacekeeper Marines who guarded this entrance to the base proper, and walked into the public reception area. Garcia was waiting for him there, lounging inconspicuously in one of the back chairs reading his plate. "Well?" Bronski asked without preamble as the other scrambled to his feet.
"He left eight minutes ago," Garcia said, falling into step beside Bronski. "Daschka's on him. What kept you?"
"An inflated mouth with a NorCoord Parlimin attached," Bronski growled. "We'd better watch this VanDiver character-he's already nibbling around the edges of this thing. Anything new at this end?"