"All right," Bronski muttered. "Here we go."
"Wait a second," Cavanagh told him, glancing around. Kolchin was nowhere in sight. "Kolchin's not in yet."
"Don't worry, we're not going anywhere," Bronski assured him. Reaching to the control board, he touched a switch-
And hovering just inside the canopy, Thrr't-rokik suddenly stiffened.
"Bronski!" Cavanagh snapped, suddenly understanding. "Thrr't-rokik-"
"I'm sorry, Thrr't-rokik," Bronski said, adjusting the frequency control. "But we don't have a choice here."
"I understand," the Elder said, his face contorted in pain. "Do what you must."
Bronski nodded. "This is Bronski," he called. "Code four; condition red; situation red. If you're out there, Daschka, get your rear over here fast."
"Daschka?" Cavanagh said, frowning. "Where-I mean how-?"
"Because I left a message drop for him back at the ship, of course," Bronski grunted. "We're hardly amateurs here, Cavanagh. If he got the skitter message at Phormbi, he and Cho Ming ought to be lurking out there somewhere."
"And if they didn't?"
"Then we go to Plan B," Bronski said. "Come on, Daschka, look alive."
There was movement outside. Cavanagh jumped, but it was just Kolchin. "Farewell gift from the Mrachanis," he said, holding up a cluster of blue cylinders with a set of wires attached. "I guess they didn't want to trust in their marksmanship to bring us down."
Cavanagh looked at Thrr't-rokik. "You'd better go check on the hangar," he told the Elder. "See if the Mrachanis have finished planting their explosives yet."
"I obey," Thrr't-rokik gritted, and vanished.
"Daschka, this is Bronski," Bronski called again. "Code four."
Again there was no response. "Looks like we've flared out, gentlemen," Bronski said, keying the board. "Plan B: we run like hell."
From behind Cavanagh came the distinctive whine of the engines. "What about theClosed Mouth?" he asked.
"Sorry, Cavanagh," Bronski said, shaking his head. "I don't think there's anything we can do to help them."
And then Thrr't-rokik was back. "Beware, Lord-stewart Cavanagh," he said. "The Mrach aircraft are raising into the air."
"Damn," Bronski bit out. "So much for engine warm-up. Here we go."
"Wait," Kolchin said, touching his arm. "Out there-two o'clock. Incoming."
Cavanagh peered out into the moonlight. Sure enough, a dark shape barely illuminated by the moonlight was lumbering through the sky toward them.
But the Mrachanis were on it. From both sides and over the top of the cliffs the aircraft Thrr't-rokik had identified blazed forward to intercept, assembling into a pair of attack formations as they flew. From a large rock outcropping in the near distance another group appeared, falling into backup position above and between the first two. Like wolves charging toward a tottering elk...
And then, abruptly, a smaller shape burst into view from the concealing shadows beneath the incoming vehicle. It flashed ahead; and as it turned toward the Mrach aircraft, a stray glint of moonlight flickered across it, reflecting off the distinctive black-and-white hull-
"I'll be damned," Bronski breathed. "It's a Corvine. It's a damned Copperhead Corvine."
The attackers' own reaction was immediate and frantic, the confident multipronged attack floundering as the aircraft suddenly recognized what they faced and scurried like mad to get out of the way. But the wolves had met the tiger; and for the wolves it was far too late. The Corvine sliced straight through the center of their formation, its cannon sputtering in all directions with deadly accuracy. Five of the aircraft flashed to vapor in midair, lighting up the sky like a Founding Day fireworks display. Four others survived long enough to hit the ground, turning there into instant bonfires. The rest scattered, clawing for the relative safety of distance.
Bronski keyed the radio again. "Corvine, this is Bronski. There's a hangar door in the fortress about five klicks south of my position. There's a trapped spacecraft inside. Free it."
"Corvine acknowledging," a familiar voice responded. "Is Lord Cavanagh there with you?"
"I'm here, Aric," Cavanagh said, leaning forward toward the mike. Why Aric would be there with Bronski's men... but they could sort that out later. "Hurry with that hangar door. The Mrachanis are planning to bring the mountain down on it."
The Corvine was already driving south. "Hang on," Bronski said, lifting into the air and following. "Thrr't-rokik?"
"They have stopped work," Thrr't-rokik said. "I fear it will be happening soon."
"Let's hope your captain's smart enough to run when the door opens," Bronski said, touching the radio control again. "Seconds count here, gentlemen."
There was no reply; but suddenly the Corvine swooped in close to the cliff wall and rolled ninety degrees to its right. The cannon stuttered again, the shells stitching parallel lines of miniature explosions across the width of the hangar doors. The fighter pulled back and around in a tight curve, swinging around to drive directly at the doors. At the last second it pulled sharply up, the twin flashes of missile launchings sparking toward the doors.
And with a roar and double flash of roiling fire the doors shattered and collapsed.
And through the smoke and still-flaming gas the Zhirrzh ship appeared, its glittering new metal sheathing torn in a hundred places by shrapnel and flying rock. It battered its way out through the opening, its hull scraping repeatedly against the crumbling remains of the door. There was a half-strangled gasp from Aric as the Corvine came around in another tight loop-
"Hold your fire," Bronski barked. "We've got a truce with the Zhirrzh."
"No-let them fire," Cavanagh suggested. "They can't hurt the hull, but it'll help clear off that metal sheathing."
"Good idea," Bronski agreed. "You copy, Corvine?"
"We copy," Quinn's cautious voice came. "Lord Cavanagh?"
"It's all right," Cavanagh assured him. "Your responsibility is to the family, and to obey all family orders."
"Acknowledged," Quinn said.
"We ought to get out of here," Kolchin said. "The Mrachanis may have heavier weaponry in the area."
"Yes," Cavanagh said, looking around and finally spotting Thrr't-rokik. "Thrr't-rokik, what about yourfsss cutting?"
"Leave it there," the other said. "It would be dangerous to try to retrieve it now. And the Overclan Prime may wish me to continue observing."
"All right," Cavanagh said. "Can you get to Nzz-oonaz and his group yet?"
Thrr't-rokik flicked away, returned a few seconds later. "He is informed of new truths," he assured them. "He will not attack you. The Overclan Prime wishes to know if Lord-stewart Cavanagh and Bronski will accompany theClosed Mouth to a Human world to discuss peace."
"Sounds like a plan," Bronski said. "Edo's our best bet, I think. Daschka can send a skitter on ahead to warn them we're coming."
Cavanagh braced himself. "What about my daughter and other son?" he asked. "Is there word yet?"
"They are unharmed," Thrr't-rokik said. "The Human commander is soon arriving to discuss matters with Thrr-mezaz."
Cavanagh closed his eyes, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "It's over," he murmured, a wave of fatigue and released tension rolling over him. "We've done it."
"It's not over yet," Bronski said grimly. "There's still that rogue attack force heading for Earth. My guess is we haven't got more than a few hours to stop them."
"Why can't the Elders just take them a message?" Kolchin asked. "Warrior Command's in charge, isn't it?"
"But Warrior Command still does not know about this," Thrr't-rokik said. "And if it is a Dhaa'rr fleet as the Overclan Prime thinks, only Speaker Cvv-panav will be able to stop the attack."
"Then call him," Bronski said.
"That is problem," Thrr't-rokik told him. "Speaker Cvv-panav now on Dhaa'rr world of Dharanv. Not accepting any communications."
Bronski swore gently. "Waiting at home for word of his grand victory, I imagine. This is going to be trouble."
Cavanagh opened his eyes again. The Zhirrzh ship was settling to the ground nearby, Quinn and Bronski's men flying high cover for it. "Actually, I don't think so," he told the brigadier. "I think I know how to get through to him. Let's go aboard and discuss it with the Overclan Prime, shall we?"
Melinda keyed off the laser comm and stepped out of the hatchway. Prr't-zevisti was waiting there for her, his face looking strange. "It's all over, Prr't-zevisti," she assured him. "We've done it."
"Yes," he said. "And I thank you deeply, Melinda Cavanagh. But I am confused. I have now been to see your brother. Mnov-korthe is still there with him, under guard of Second Commander Klnn-vavgi. Yet we heard him call from the landing area and order you to be allowed inside the aircraft."
"Yes, we did." Melinda frowned, peering out into the darkness. Holloway's incoming aircar was visible now, circling around to get into landing position. Its lights flicked on, illuminating the area where the voice had come from-
And Melinda's frown smoothed into a wry smile. Of course; she should have guessed. "Hello?" she called. "Max?"
"Hello, Dr. Cavanagh," Max's smooth voice came from the meter-long silver cylinder lying ignominiously in the dust of the landing field. "The Zhirrzh assigned to transport me seem to have run off to other duties."
"And so you listened in," she said. "And decided to lend a hand."
"You appeared to require assistance," the computer said. "I hope I have not acted improperly."
"No, Max," she assured him. "Your timing and your voice were absolutely perfect."
30
Speaker Cvv-panav had gone to sleep smiling, with firm orders that he was not to be awakened for anything but the most momentous information.
Five hunbeats ago he had indeed been awakened. And was no longer smiling. "How in the eighteen worlds could this have happened?" he thundered to the Elder hovering nervously before him. "You had everything you needed."
" 'It wasn't enough,' " Mnov-korthe's tart reply came a few beats later. " 'We found the illegal cutting, all right, but Prr't-zevisti was alive. And somehow in contact with the Overclan Prime.' "
Cvv-panav slashed viciously at the air. And that part was his own fault. But how could he have known-? "Never mind," he growled. "The Prime may have won a battle, but the war is still ours. He wants peace? Fine; we'll give him peace. The peace that comes with final victory."
The Elder nodded and vanished. Yes, they would have peace, all right, Cvv-panav told himself as he keyed his reader for current status of the warships being towed toward the heart of Human-Conqueror territory by their Mrach allies. A little over a tentharc away from Earth now, still off the Human-Conqueror detectors. And when they did appear, looking merely like a fleet of harmless Mrach spacecraft-
The Elder reappeared. " 'There is news of that, as well, Speaker Cvv-panav,' " he quoted Mnov-korthe. " 'As Mnov-dornt and I were being taken to confinement, I overheard one of the Human-Conquerors tell Commander Thrr-mezaz that the spacecraft that had escaped Dorcas had taken with it the final piece of the CIRCE weapon.' "
"So it was there after all," Cvv-panav said, a flicker of his earlier satisfaction returning. "You were right: the Mrach intelligence reports were indeed wrong. Excellent. That means there will be no chance at all of our assault force having to face that weapon."
" 'Yes,' " the reply came. " 'I suppose that's something.' "
"That's everything," Cvv-panav countered. "It's the upcoming victory at Earth that will vault the Dhaa'rr back to power. What's going to happen to you now?"
" 'The Overclan Prime will be sending a ship to return us to Oaccanv.' "
Cvv-panav flicked his tongue in contempt. "Don't let it worry you," he said. "Long before you reach Zhirrzh space, the Overclan Prime will have ceased to exist as a political force. Farewell."
"Close the pathway," he told the Elder. Yes, the ship commanders of his warships would find this good news indeed. As would the Mrachanis towing them; and this would be an excellent opportunity to demonstrate to those nornin-furred aliens that the Zhirrzh weren't dependent on them for information about their enemies. "And open a pathway to theTrillsnake."
Mra was receding behind theClosed Mouth when the word finally came from Oaccanv. "It has happened, Lord-stewart Cavanagh," Nzz-oonaz said, his voice sounding both excited and surprised. "Exactly as you predicted. The Dhaa'rr warships have reported to Warrior Command that the Mrach spacecraft have broken their tow cables and fled into the tunnel-line. The commanders are close to panic-they say they are now within enemy detection range."
"Have the Overclan Prime tell them that as long as they stay where they are, they can't be detected," Cavanagh said. "It's only in the tunnel-line that we can find them. Once we get a proper and official truce established, they'll be able to leave. You can let them know when that happens."
"I obey," Nzz-oonaz said. He turned back to the waiting Elders and began to speak.
Beside Cavanagh, Bronski shook his head. "You called it," he conceded. "But I'm still not sure I believe it. Why would the Mrachanis cut and run that way?"
"Because the only reason they allied with the Zhirrzh in the first place was because they were convinced CIRCE didn't exist," Cavanagh told him. "They'd drugged Ezer Sholom on Mra-mig, remember-they must have learned about CIRCE's nonexistence from him and then cleared out just before we got there. At that point it became a typical Mrach power game: manipulate the Zhirrzh against the Commonwealth and see what advantage they could get out of it. By having Pheylan and Commander Thrr-mezaz plant that story with Cvv-panav's agent, all I did was give them strong evidence that Sholom was wrong."
"Ah," Bronski said, nodding. "Which instantly changed all the percentages they were playing. If CIRCE really did exist, the last thing they'd want would be to get caught in the company of a Zhirrzh war fleet. But how did you know Speaker Cvv-panav would even bother to tell them?"
"Because I've known too many politicians just like him," Cavanagh said. "Politicians who like to gloat and show off their knowledge to allies and enemies alike. And who never let prudence get in the way of their personal agendas."
"Mm," Bronski said. "Speaking of politicians like that, I'll bet Parlimin Jacy VanDiver is going to want your head over this one."
Cavanagh smiled tiredly. "Let him try."
31
"Searcher Thrr-gilag; Kee'rr," the Overclan Prime called, his voice echoing across the Overclan Seating chamber. "Come forward."
Bracing himself, steadying his tail as best he could, Thrr-gilag walked down the aisle toward the front of the chamber, gazing straight ahead and trying to ignore the eyes of the Thousand Speakers and the thousands of Elders in the room. Trying not to wonder what they were thinking.