And without another word he was gone.
" 'All is quiet here, Overclan Prime,' " the Elder quoted. " 'There have been no attempts by anyone to enter your private chambers.' "
"Thank you," the Prime said. After that hilltop conversation with Thrr-tulkoj and Thrr't-rokik he'd decided that that possibility was reasonably remote. Still, it never paid to underestimate the subtlety of one's enemies. "Keep alert." He nodded to the Elder. "You may close the pathway."
"I obey, Overclan Prime." The Elder vanished.
The Prime adjusted his position on his couch, gazing out the transport window at the dark landscape rolling by beneath them and feeling like a contact juggler trying to handle five crystal orbs at once. The situation on Dorcas had some serious political implications; but the question of possible Mrach duplicity had a far greater potential for widespread disaster. As soon as he got back to Unity City and secure Elder pathways, he would have to contact Warrior Command and let them know what was happening on Mra.
After that he would have to get hold of Speaker Cvv-panav on Dharanv. Let him know about the Mrachanis and hint to the Speaker that he knew what the other was up to on Dorcas. Perhaps the time was right to strike another deal.
An Elder flicked into view across the transport's darkened cabin. Yet another bored and nosy Elder from the shrines below, no doubt, checking out the group of aircraft flying by so late. The Prime opened his mouth to suggest that the Elder leave-
And to his surprise the Elder's initial expression of relief and joy turned suddenly into terror. "What in-?" he gasped, looking frantically around him. "Where-how-?"
"Can I help you?" the Prime asked.
The Elder darted over to him, his eyes clinging to the Prime as if to the last lifeline of a rescue ship. "A Zhirrzh," he said, already starting to sound calmer. "I thought I was-" He broke off, flicking his tongue. "Please-where am I?"
"You're aboard an official transport of the Overclan Seating," the Prime told him, frowning at his face. It wasn't anyone he recognized. "I'm the Overclan Prime. Who are you?"
Another jolt of emotion passed across the Elder's face. "The Overclan Prime?"
And then, abruptly, he straightened up into full warrior posture. "Overclan Prime, I am Prr't-zevisti; Dhaa'rr," he said formally. "I have recently been released from captivity among the Humans on the world called Dorcas.
"And I have a vitally urgent report to make to you."
"Sara died soon after that," Lord-stewart Cavanagh said, those drops of liquid running from the corners of his eyes again. "For a long time after that I wasn't interested in doing much of anything."
"I understand," Thrr't-rokik said, bittersweet memories of his own drifting across his mind. Only half a cyclic since he'd been raised to Eldership, but already it sometimes felt as if this were the only life he'd ever lived. "I felt much the same after I was raised to Eldership. I stayed at the shrine by myfsss and did little else."
"That's not the same at all," Lord-stewart Cavanagh said, moving his head back and forth. "You speak as a Human might who had lost a hand or a leg. You were still there, but simply no longer had a body. Your wife and children could still see and talk to you."
"If they so chose," Thrr't-rokik said quietly. "Thrr-gilag was across the stars at his studies when I was raised to Eldership and could not come to be with me." He hesitated, the pain edging through him again. "My wife, Thrr-pifix-a, did not wish to see me this way at all. She moved away from our home, too far away for me to reach her."
"I'm sorry," the other said. "Some Humans handle shock better than others. I imagine it's the same for Zhirrzh."
"Yes," Thrr't-rokik said. "But it is not only that. For her-"
He broke off as a new voice swept suddenly through his mind. "Thrr't-rokik?"
It was the voice of one of the protectors at the Thrr-family shrine, the sound being transmitted directly to him through hisfsss. "I have to go, Lord-stewart Cavanagh," he said. "I will return."
He flicked back to Oaccanv and the shrine. It was latearc there, with the stars twinkling faintly down from the sky. "I'm here," he said, remembering just in time to switch back to the Zhirrzh language.
"Protector Thrr-tulkoj wants to speak with you," the protector said. "He said he'd be waiting where you last met."
"I understand," Thrr't-rokik said, frowning. Trouble? "Thank you." He flicked along his anchorline to the hills west of Cliffside Dales-
Thrr-tulkoj was indeed waiting on the hill for him. So, to his surprise, was the Overclan Prime and an unidentified Elder. "I'm here," Thrr't-rokik said. "Is there trouble?"
"There is disaster," the Prime said bluntly. "You said you had listened to those Human-Conqueror prisoners on Mra. Can you talk to them as well?"
"I believe I can," Thrr't-rokik said cautiously. Did the Prime know he'd violated the ban on communications with the Humans?
"Good," the Prime said. "I need you to ask them a question. A vitally important question."
"So," Bronski said quietly from across the room. "You two having a nice chat?"
Cavanagh looked over at him, maintaining his mental count. Thrr't-rokik had been gone for nearly two minutes now. "What?"
"You and Thrr't-rokik," Bronski said. "You've been getting on together like a house on fire."
Cavanagh cocked an eyebrow. "I thought you were asleep."
Bronski shrugged. "Light sleeping is a habit you pick up in the commandos. Right, Kolchin?"
"Right," Kolchin's fully awake voice came from the other cot. "What do you think, sir?"
"About Thrr't-rokik?" Cavanagh shrugged. "My gut feeling is that he's sincere, that this isn't some sort of trick. Though I presume Bronski thinks differently."
"Not necessarily," Bronski said, his voice thoughtful. "We're seeing evidence that the Mrachanis are masters of this sort of verbal maneuvering; but, then, what else have they got? They can't fight, so they have to win with words and chicanery. The Zhirrzh, on the other hand, have one hell of a war machine. They don't need to use psychological trickery."
"Though subtlety and hardware aren't necessarily incompatible," Kolchin pointed out. "A lot of aggressor regimes have used both."
And then, suddenly, Thrr't-rokik was back. "Lord-stewart Cavanagh, I have an urgent question from the Overclan Prime," he said, his voice sounding oddly strained. "He wishes me to ask you if Human spacecraft communicate with below-light energy."
Cavanagh blinked. "With what?"
"With below-light energy," Thrr't-rokik repeated. "Wait."
He vanished again. "Any idea what below-light energy is?" Cavanagh asked the others.
"Infrared?" Bronski asked doubtfully. "Some of our short-range comm lasers use that."
"Or does he mean radio?" Kolchin suggested. "Radio signals have a lower frequency than light waves."
Thrr't-rokik reappeared. "It is calledradio," he said. "Is this below-light energy?"
"I suppose you could call it that, yes," Cavanagh agreed. "We do use radio for some communications. Who is this Overclan Prime?"
"He is the leader of the Overclan Seating," Thrr't-rokik said, a strange expression on his translucent face. "Lord-stewart Cavanagh, this war is a mistake."
Cavanagh frowned. "What do you mean, a mistake?"
"A wrong happening," Thrr't-rokik said. "Your radio is what we call Elderdeath weapons."
"What do Elderdeath weapons do?" Bronski asked.
"They affectfsss organs," Thrr't-rokik said, turning to face him. "They cause great pain to Elders and children. Less effect on warriors, but still some. They are terrible and hated weapons."
"Oh, hell," Bronski murmured.
"What?" Cavanagh demanded. "Bronski, what?"
"Commander Cavanagh's report," Bronski said, his face carved from stone. "He said the Zhirrzh kept insisting that theJutland fired first."
The back of Cavanagh's neck began to tingle. "Are you saying itdid?"
"Yes, if what he's saying is true," Bronski said. "TheJutland's first-contact package was transmitted by radio."
There was a long moment of silence. A hard, brittle silence. "Oh, my God," Cavanagh said. "What do we do?"
"I must return to the Overclan Prime," Thrr't-rokik said. "Tell him confirmation."
He vanished. "Bronski?" Cavanagh asked.
Bronski took a deep breath. "We can't just take their word for this. But it's certainly possible."
Thrr't-rokik reappeared. "The Overclan Prime says war must stop. How can we do this?"
"Not so fast," Bronski said, gazing at the Elder. "That first battle might have been a mistake; but after that you came down very hard against us. I want to know why."
"I will ask," Thrr't-rokik said, and vanished.
"Because excuses or not, they've still been acting like conquerors since day one," Bronski pointed out to the others. "This whole radio/Elderdeath thing could just be a ploy to buy them some time."
Thrr't-rokik returned. "The Overclan Prime says our attack was designed to protect us from you. He learned about weapon called CIRCE and wanted to stop your putting it together."
Cavanagh looked across the room at Bronski, feeling sick. CIRCE, the hoax of the millennium, the threat that NorCoord had used to maintain political supremacy over the rest of the Commonwealth nations.
And now the Zhirrzh had bought into the hoax, too. With disastrous results.
"Not a word, Cavanagh," Bronski warned sharply. "Thrr't-rokik, ask the Overclan Prime if he'd be interested in stopping their aggression against us if I could promise CIRCE wouldn't be used against the Zhirrzh."
"I obey."
He vanished. "Bronski, we have to tell him," Cavanagh said.
"No, we don't," Bronski growled. "And we're not going to. It's a military secret."
"A military secret?" Cavanagh echoed. "What in blazes does being a military secret have to do with anything?"
"For starters, the simple fact that we only have his word for any of this," Bronski shot back. "For all we know, fear of CIRCE's the only thing holding them back from leveling every world in the Commonwealth."
"Do you really believe that?" Cavanagh demanded.
"Personally?" Bronski said. "Probably not. But that kind of policy decision isn't my job. The diplomats can handle that one after we get a cease-fire arranged."
"Which is going to be a bit difficult to do from here," Cavanagh pointed out.
"Right," Bronski agreed. "Which gives us the perfect chance to see how sincere the Zhirrzh really are."
Thrr't-rokik was back before Cavanagh could ask what he meant. "The Overclan Prime agrees," he said. "How can we stop the war?"
"We need to get in contact with Peacekeeper Command," Bronski said. "But we obviously can't do that from here. You're going to have to send some of the soldiers from that ship of yours and free us. If you can get us back to our ship, we can do the rest."
Thrr't-rokik gazed at him. "You can promise that?" he asked.
"I can," Bronski said firmly. "Lord Cavanagh is an important man. He can get the war stopped while we figure this out."
"I will tell the Overclan Prime," Thrr't-rokik said. "He will decide."
He vanished again. "What now?" Cavanagh asked.
Bronski shrugged. "We wait."
Commander Oclan-barjak flicked his tongue in a negative. "No," he said firmly. "If you want my advice, Overclan Prime, I say no."
The Prime grimaced. "Thrr't-rokik? Your opinion?"
"I don't know, Overclan Prime," the Elder said. "I believe I would trust Lord-stewart Cavanagh. But I don't really know this Bronski."
The Prime eyed him. "But youdo know Lord-stewart Cavanagh?"
A flicker of startled guilt shimmered across Thrr't-rokik's face before he could hide it. But it was enough. "What I meant-"
"What you meant is that you've been talking to him," the Prime interrupted.
"You arrogant fool," Oclan-barjak growled, glaring at Thrr't-rokik. "Warrior Command has instituted a strict ban on communication with the Human-Conquerors-"
"That's not important anymore," the Prime cut him off. "Thrr't-rokik, you said Bronski said Lord-stewart Cavanagh was important. Is he?"
"He was once," Thrr't-rokik said. "He was a member of the Humans' version of the Overclan Seating. But he left a short time before his wife died."
"But he probably still has contacts with other Human-Conqueror leaders," the Prime nodded. "That may be all we need."
Oclan-barjak flicked his tongue. "Overclan Prime, I strongly suggest you reconsider. Thrr't-rokik's illegal conversations aside, we know virtually nothing about this alien."
"We have no choice, Commander," the Prime said flatly. "We have exactly two direct contacts with Human-Conquerors right now: Lord-stewart Cavanagh, and his son and daughter."
Thrr't-rokik jolted. "His son and daughter?"
"Yes," the Prime said, gesturing Prr't-zevisti forward. "That's right, you don't know. This is Prr't-zevisti; Dhaa'rr."
"Yes, I remember the name," Thrr't-rokik murmured. "Rumor has it that the Human-Conquerors on Dorcas destroyed you."
"I was merely their unintentional guest," Prr't-zevisti said. "With the aid of Melinda Cavanagh and a visiting Zhirrzh searcher, I was able to escape."
Thrr't-rokik leaned closer. "A visiting searcher? Do you know his name?"
"It's your son, Thrr-gilag," the Prime confirmed. "I sent him there to do some studies for me. Go tell Lord-stewart Cavanagh we have an agreement. Then go to theClosed Mouth and tell Searcher Nzz-oonaz that he's to send as many warriors as it takes to get the three Human-Conquerors out."
"I obey," Thrr't-rokik said, and vanished.
Oclan-barjak flicked his tongue in a negative. "I hope you know what you're doing, Overclan Prime," he said. "If Speaker Cvv-panav had even a taste of this, he'd have you staked out for the savagefish by midarc."
"Speaker Cvv-panav is too busy playing politics on Dorcas to bother right now," the Prime said grimly. Which was true enough; but what Oclan-barjak probably didn't see was the potentially dangerous connection that now existed between the situation on Dorcas and that on Mra. Lord-stewart Cavanagh's son and daughter were in the middle of Cvv-panav's scheme... and if anything happened to them, their father might not be nearly so willing to help arrange a truce.
And then, abruptly, Thrr't-rokik was back, a look of fear and consternation on his face. "There is trouble!" he blurted. "The Human-Conquerors are attacking!"
"What?" Oclan-barjak barked. "Attacking who?"
"TheClosed Mouth," Thrr't-rokik said. "And Nzz-oonaz says they are using the weapon called CIRCE!"
28
"Please," Valloittaja begged, his voice echoing from across the empty hangar to the half-open hatchway. "You must send warriors to help us, Searcher Nzz-oonaz. Otherwise none of us will survive this attack."
Commander Sps-kudah flicked his tongue impatiently. "Searcher, we can't simply sit here in safety and let our allies be destroyed," he snapped. "Whatever this CIRCE thing is he's talking about, it must be something terrible to get them so worked up."