Conquerors' Legacy

9

"We don't want to spend the next five tentharcs driving through empty space getting to them, either," Sps-kudah countered. "I know what I'm doing, Searcher."

"I hope so," Nzz-oonaz murmured, feeling his tail pick up its already nervous pace. The first contact with the Mrachanis, over half a cyclic ago, hadn't been much more than a quick mutual glimpse between two ships over a mostly uninhabited world. The second contact, only twenty fullarcs ago in the same star system, had barely begun when the Mrachani spacecraft opened fire with Elderdeath weapons. The two Mrachanis who had survived the Zhirrzh counterattack had been taken back to Oaccanv, where they'd offered an alliance against the Human-Conquerors before they'd died.

The Overclan Seating had concluded their request was sincere. Nzz-oonaz wasn't so sure. And he couldn't help wondering if he would be an Elder at his family shrine before this fullarc was over.

The indicator lines crossed; and with a crack of optronic capacitors, the Closed Mouth returned to normal space.

To find the Mrachanis waiting for them.

Someone in the control room hissed a curse. "Steady, everyone," Nzz-oonaz warned. At least fifteen spacecraft were arrayed in front of them, spread out widely across their field of view and fading back against the backdrop of the half-sunlit planet behind them. "Ship Commander Sps-kudah, is the floater ready?"

"I've already deployed it, Speaker," Sps-kudah said. "There—you see it?"

Nzz-oonaz nodded, watching as the small box drifted outward from the Closed Mouth, its tethering cable slowly uncoiling behind it. Strictly speaking, deploying the floater without permission was a breach of command etiquette on Ship Commander Sps-kudah's part, but for right now etiquette wasn't high on Nzz-oonaz's list. This was the same technique the Mrachanis who'd gone to Dorcas had used to open communications, which theoretically should guarantee the same peaceful outcome for this contact.

On the other side, if the Mrachanis who'd arrived on Dorcas were members of a different clan or family from the group the Closed Mouth was facing now, the spacecraft out there might decide the floater was some kind of weapon. In which case things might not go smoothly at all.

But that fear, at least, proved groundless. The floater had scarcely begun its journey when one of the Mrachani spacecraft began to maneuver itself onto its vector. A few hunbeats later, having reached its chosen position, it launched a box of its own. The Elders examined it as it came within range and pronounced it to be a Human-Conqueror-Style recorder—the same kind, if the description was accurate, that the Mrachanis had used at Dorcas.

"At least we're dealing with the same clan," Ship Commander Sps-kudah grunted. "That's something."

"If they even have individual clans," Nzz-oonaz said, watching the image being sent back from the floater. The two boxes were close enough together now for him to see that the Mrachani recorder had Human-Conqueror words displayed on it.

"Get a translation of that," Ship Commander Sps-kudah ordered, jabbing his tongue at the monitor.

"No need," Nzz-oonaz said. "It says, 'We are the Mrachanis. We are not your enemies. Please do not attack us. Please allow us to speak directly with you.' That's the same message they used at Dorcas."

Belatedly, the interpreter translation came up on another monitor. Ship Commander Sps-kudah glanced at it, grunted again. "Message: 'We're not here to fight, but to speak. Will you give us landing instructions?' "

Nzz-oonaz looked across the control room, flicked his tongue at Gll-borgiv. "Can you write that directly into the Human-Conqueror language?"

"Certainly," Gll-borgiv assured him. Bending over the floater control board, he set to work.

Nzz-oonaz watched as the other's fingers and tongue jabbed rapidly across the keys, a mixture of envy and wariness flowing across his tongue. Wariness, because of the Overclan Prime's warning about the Dhaa'rr clan just before they'd lifted off from Oaccanv; envy, because despite Gll-borgiv's mediocre talents as a searcher, he was far better with alien languages than Nzz-oonaz could ever hope to be.

As they seemed to have expected the floater, the Mrachanis had apparently also anticipated the question. Ship Commander Sps-kudah's message had barely gone out to the floater monitor when the reply appeared on their recorder. "It says, This spacecraft will lead you,' " Gll-borgiv translated. " 'Follow to a safely secluded landing area.' "

Nzz-oonaz looked past the Mrachani spacecraft at the dark half of the planet behind them—dark except for the tightly woven pattern of ground lights that seemed to fill a wide band reaching from the equator nearly to both poles. A secluded landing area where they could talk in private? Or a secluded landing area where the Mrachanis could raise everyone aboard to Eldership and dissect the ship at their leisure? Either for the Human-Conqueror's benefit or their own?

That was one of the things the Closed Mouth had been sent to find out. "Signal our agreement, Gll-borgiv," he instructed, flicking his tongue at the Dhaa'rr searcher. "Ship Commander Sps-kudah, reel in the floater and prepare the Closed Mouth to follow him down."

He glanced again at the well-lit planetary darkside. "Let's see where in all of that the Mrachanis think they can hide us."

The Mrachanis had indeed found a secluded place, but it was nothing like what Nzz-oonaz had been expecting. In fact, it was like nothing he'd ever seen before.

His first thought as they came within clear sight of the area was that the Mrachanis had for some unknown reason created for themselves an otherwise impossible melding of wasteland, mountain, and miniature tropical forest. The ground seemed almost to writhe beneath them as they flew overhead, long and incredibly craggy rocks jutting upward from the ground in groups or long ridges. Between the protruding clusters of rock, nestled with mindless defiance in each hollow or miniature valley, were clumps of small trees and shrubs.

Dominating the whole impressive landscape was an even more impressive circular mountain ridge, half a thoustride high at least and perhaps ten across, looking like the remnants of a volcano that had exploded and collapsed in on itself. Just south of the ring was a rough but serviceable-looking landing area, running east to west across the uneven ground. The Mrachani spacecraft led them toward it, and as they approached, Nzz-oonaz could see that there were several large ground vehicles waiting. Transports, perhaps, though they seemed too large for that. Possibly they were heavy haulers, there to pull the Closed Mouth to wherever they intended to hide it.

He felt a breath of air against the side of his face and turned to see Gll-borgiv step up beside him. The other was staring at the main monitor, his expression uneasy. "Take a look at that ring-shaped cliff, will you, Searcher Nzz-oonaz?" he asked. "Tell me if those black spots are what I think they are."

Nzz-oonaz looked back at the display, the taste of annoyance bubbling under his tongue. He hated this kind of guessing game. Still, Gll-borgiv was right: there were dark pockmarks scattered all across the ring cliffs.

Scattered rather uniformly, now that he was actually looking at them. Almost in straight lines... "Ship Commander?"

"Yes, Searcher?"

Nzz-oonaz pointed at the display. "A laser-scan probe of those dark spots on the cliffs. See if they're indented from the rock around them."

"I've already checked," the ship commander said, his voice smug. "They appear to be windows."

Nzz-oonaz glared at him. "And you didn't think that worth mentioning?"

"I assumed a searcher of your distinction had already noticed them," Sps-kudah said blandly. "Or else had deduced from the lack of any other obvious habitation nearby that the ring cliffs were most likely our destination."

Nzz-oonaz flicked his tongue in annoyance. Here in the middle of potentially hostile territory, and Ship Commander Sps-kudah was still playing games. "And I presume you likewise deduced the possibility that they aren't windows at all?" he countered. "That perhaps they're Mrachani weapons emplacements?"

A flicker of something crossed Sps-kudah's face. "A certain amount of caution on their part wouldn't be unreasonable," he said. "After all, they don't really know anything about us."

"Just as we don't really know anything about them," Nzz-oonaz countered. "Such as whether or not they're actually secret allies of the Human-Conquerors."

"I thought that theory had been invalidated," Gll-borgiv put in. "The Human-Conqueror explosives attack aimed at the Mrachani diplomats on Dorcas, remember?"

"Yes, I remember," Nzz-oonaz said patiently. "I also remember that at last report Commander Thrr-mezaz still didn't know how the attack had been carried out." He fixed Gll-borgiv with a hard look. "How do you think it was done?"

Gll-borgiv shrugged. "Some unknown Human-Conqueror weapon, obviously."

"Fine." Nzz-oonaz flicked his tongue toward the ring cliffs. "Then doesn't it also seem likely that a few properly placed shots from those openings with this same unknown weapon might do severe damage to this ship?"

Gll-borgiv didn't answer. "Ship Commander?" Nzz-oonaz invited, shifting his glare back to Sps-kudah.

"We're watching for signs of trouble," Sps-kudah said curtly. "You don't have to concern yourself with the warrior part of this mission."

"I'm the speaker," Nzz-oonaz reminded him. "All parts of the mission are my concern."

The ship commander seemed to stiffen. Possibly with respect, most likely not. "Understood," he said. "Speaker."

"Good." Nzz-oonaz turned back to the monitor, silently willing his spinning tail to slow down. Very good, the Overclan Prime had said at the Closed Mouth's departure, when Nzz-oonaz had had to similarly affirm his speakership against Ship Commander Sps-kudah's subtle attempt to usurp it for himself. Remember to show the same authority in front of the Mrachanis, and all should be well.

The Mrachanis were waiting below. Nzz-oonaz hoped the Overclan Prime had been right.

Nzz-oonaz's guess about the waiting vehicles had been correct. No sooner had the Closed Mouth come to a stop than they were lumbering across the uneven ground toward the beaks of its three leading hexagons, heavy cables and grippers prominently in evidence. By the time Nzz-oonaz started down the ramp, the haulers were in position, with a dozen Mrachanis scurrying around finding places to make the attachments.

At the bottom of the ramp stood a single Mrachani, dressed in colorful, multilayered robes of intricate weave. "Welcome!" he called in the Human-Conqueror language as the Zhirrzh neared the ground. "Standing in the stead of the rulers of the Mrachanis, I welcome our brothers the Zhirrzh to Mra. Can you understand me?"

The translator-link in Nzz-oonaz's ear slits whispered the interpreter's version of the alien words, confirming Nzz-oonaz's own translation. "Yes," he told the other in the same language.

"Ah—you speak the language of our common enemy," the alien said. "Excellent—it will make our talk much easier. I am Valloittaja, ambassador of the rulers of the Mrachanis."

"I am Searcher Nzz-oonaz; Flii'rr," Nzz-oonaz identified himself. "Speaker of this expedition."

"I greet you, Searcher Nzz-oonaz; Flii'rr." Valloittaja's eyes flicked over his shoulder. "But surely you have not come alone?"

"My associates are busy preparing our equipment," Nzz-oonaz assured him. "They will be joining us shortly."

"I will leave guides for them," Valloittaja said, gesturing Nzz-oonaz toward a group of four small open-topped vehicles. "It is imperative that we begin our discussions as quickly as possible."

"Of course," Nzz-oonaz said as they walked toward the vehicles. "Before we begin, though, I must first inform you that I bring sad news. Your first ambassadors—the two who encountered the Zhirrzh ship at the uninhabited system thirty-five light-cyclics from here?"

"I know who you mean," Valloittaja said. "We call that planet Mra-kahie."

"I see," Nzz-oonaz nodded. "I must tell you that those two ambassadors have both died."

"What?" Valloittaja stopped abruptly, turning to face Nzz-oonaz. Suddenly it was as if there were a chill in the air. "How did they die?"

"We don't know the cause of death," Nzz-oonaz said, a sudden desire to apologize welling up beneath his tongue. "I can tell you that their encounter with the Zhirrzh ship involved the firing of weapons. It's possible they received injuries at that time."

"And you didn't try to save their lives?" Valloittaja demanded.

"Of course we tried," Nzz-oonaz protested, again fighting against the urge to apologize. The Mrachani spacecraft had fired first, after all, and with Elderdeath weapons. "But we didn't know enough about Mrachani physical construction and body chemistry."

For a pair of beats Valloittaja simply looked at him. Nzz-oonaz kept his mouth firmly closed, wishing Sps-kudah or even Gll-borgiv would hurry up and get down here. But they wouldn't, he knew, not unless he summoned them. The plan called for him to face the Mrachanis alone for at least a few hunbeats to see how the aliens dealt with a single, unprotected Zhirrzh.

"What is done is done," Valloittaja said at last. His voice was no longer bright with anger, but dark with a deep sadness that made Nzz-oonaz feel even worse. "Their empty bodies—may we have them for the ceremonies?"

"Of course," Nzz-oonaz hastened to assure him. "We have them with us. Preserved to the best of our abilities."

"Yes," Valloittaja murmured. For another beat he gazed at the Closed Mouth; then, with obvious effort, he seemed to put the matter aside. "But the mourning of the lost must wait," he said, resuming walking. "There is much to do, and much to speak about. And if the Conquerors Without Reason discover your ship, all our hopes will be for nothing. As our workers prepare to hide it, I will escort you to a place of resting."

They reached the open-topped vehicles, and Valloittaja gestured Nzz-oonaz to one of them. Considering the terrain, Nzz-oonaz decided it would probably be a floater, and as Valloittaja started it up, his guess was proved correct. "What is this place?" he asked as they headed toward the ring cliffs.

"It's called the Puvkit Tru Kai," Valloittaja told him. "In the language of our common enemies, the Garden Of The Mad Stonewright. Throughout Mrach history it has been much as you see it now, though the more exotic varieties of plant life were added by a past owner. It has been in turn an unwanted wasteland, a trading center, the private estate of a noble king, a public parkland"—his eyes flicked to Nzz-oonaz—"and now a place of interstellar alliance."

"Most impressive," Nzz-oonaz said, passing over the point that no such alliance had in fact been decided on. "And that?" he asked, flicking his tongue at the ring cliffs.

"Again, a largely natural structure," Valloittaja said. "The noble king I spoke of turned parts of it into a fortress where he could seek safety from his enemies."

So Mrachani history included enough interclan conflict to make fortresses necessary. That was useful to know. "He carved caves and tunnels into the stone?"

"It's much more pleasing to the eye and soul than it sounds," Valloittaja assured him. "The fortress is carved from the stone, certainly, but with light and heat and comfortable surroundings. Also with many windows—you can see them carved into the sides of the cliffs."

"Yes, we noticed them," Nzz-oonaz murmured. "Will our ship be placed in there as well?"

"Yes, in an area the noble king once used to house his animals," Valloittaja said, pointing a finger off to their right. A larger rectangular opening was visible at the base of the cliffs, about half a thoustride away along the ring. "Your ship is oddly shaped, but it should fit easily through the opening."

"Can't it be left out here?" Nzz-oonaz asked. "Camouflaged with drapings, perhaps?"

Valloittaja looked at him, the edges of his mouth pressed together. "You don't seem to realize the danger your presence here has created, Searcher Nzz-oonaz," he said. "Not only to those of us here, but also to the entire Mrach race. If any of the Conquerors Without Reason spotted the tachyon wake-trail of your ship as it flew here, there could even now be a fleet of warships coming to Mra to investigate. You and your ship must be hidden beyond all possibility of detection."

Nzz-oonaz pressed his tongue hard against the side of his mouth. "They could have tracked us here?"

"Warships of the Conquerors Without Reason fly without hindrance throughout the whole of Mrach space," Valloittaja said, his tone sending a bitter taste beneath Nzz-oonaz's tongue. "They seek to dominate our worlds and our lives."

"Yes," Nzz-oonaz murmured. So there it was: final confirmation of what Warrior Command already suspected. The Human-Conquerors did indeed have a method of tracking ships through the tunnel-line between stars.

"We had to carefully reroute space traffic away from this area when we realized you were coming," Valloittaja continued. "Whether we could ever do so again I do not know. Fortunately"—he looked at Nzz-oonaz, his mouth opening to display tiny sharpened teeth—"we won't have to. You are here now; and there will be no need for you to leave until it is safe."

"Of course," Nzz-oonaz said automatically. A beat later the implications caught up with him: they could conceivably be stuck here until the Human-Conquerors were defeated.

But that was all right. If the Overclan Seating and Warrior Command decided to make an alliance with the Mrachanis, they would need to maintain a permanent liaison here anyway. "I'm sorry our presence here has put your people in danger," he added.

"It is not you who endanger us," Valloittaja said, his tone darkening again. "It is our common enemy. Are you aware of an enemy weapon called CIRCE?"

"Yes," Nzz-oonaz murmured, glancing reflexively around them. Of the Zhirrzh aboard the Closed Mouth, only his alien-studies group and the ship's Elders knew the full truth about CIRCE. "But you will speak of this weapon only to me and to those whom I designate."

"I understand your caution," the alien said, his tone darkening still further. "CIRCE is a terrifying weapon, whose name evokes terror in even the bravest warrior. But the time for safeguards against panic has passed."

"What do you mean?" Nzz-oonaz asked.

"I mean this." Valloittaja turned halfway around in the seat to face him. "The Conquerors Without Reason have succeeded in gathering the pieces of CIRCE together. Even now they are in the process of assembling it.

"And when they succeed, you can be certain that the Zhirrzh will be its first target."

" 'And when they succeed,' " the Elder quoted, " 'you can be certain that the Zhirrzh will be its first target.' "

The Overclan Prime looked at Supreme Warrior Commander Prm-jevev. "So that's it," Prm-jevev said quietly. "They have CIRCE."

"So it would appear," the Prime agreed soberly. "Unless the Mrachanis are wrong."

"They've been under Human-Conqueror domination a long time," the Supreme Commander reminded him. "One assumes they've built up a competent spy network."

The Prime looked up, suddenly aware that the running commentary from Mra had stopped. "Elder? What's happening?"

"They've both stopped talking," the Elder reported. He flicked away, reappeared. "They've reached the entrance to the ring cliffs and are disembarking."

"Security measures?" Supreme Commander Prm-jevev asked.

"There appear to be none beyond the guards already noted," the Elder said.

He flicked away, and another Elder took his place. "Searcher Nzz-oonaz and the alien Valloittaja are entering the rim fortress," he reported. "Three more Mrachanis have joined the six guards waiting at the entrance."

"Are the newcomers armed?" Prm-jevev asked. One of the warriors at the situation-table control board, consulting quietly with another Elder, keyed three more Mrachanis onto the entrance area of the fortress floor plan. As he did so, a new section of floor plan was added to the diagram as the Elders probing the rim cliffs from the Closed Mouth continued their reports.

"I find no weapons on any of them," the Elder said.

"Ceremonial escorts, then," Prm-jevev concluded. "There to show Nzz-oonaz to his place of resting. That probably means Valloittaja himself is about to leave. Have two of the Elders stay with him."

"I obey." The Elder vanished.

The Prime flicked his tongue toward the overview monitor. "They've got the ship moving now."

"Yes, I see," Prm-jevev murmured. "I also notice that storing it in that hangar is going to put a good thoustride of the western-edge fortress area out of the Elders' range."

"I thought they'd already concluded that that area appeared to be unused," the Prime reminded him.

"They have," the Supreme Commander said. "That doesn't mean the Mrachanis couldn't reopen it sometime in the future."

An Elder appeared. " 'Your living areas are along this way,' " he quoted Valloittaja. " 'The guides will take you to them. If the space or facilities are not adequate, please let them know.' "

He vanished, another Elder appearing to take his place. " 'I'm sure everything will be fine. When do you wish to begin our talks?' "

He disappeared, and the first Elder returned. " 'As soon as possible. With the Conquerors Without Reason preparing to bring CIRCE into the war, we have no time to waste. We must launch a completely devastating attack before we ourselves are destroyed.' "

" 'I understand. As soon as the rest of my group has been settled, we will begin our conversations.' "

"The rest of the contact group's coming up now," Prm-jevev said, flicking his tongue toward the overview schematic. "Ship's still moving along—western edge of the fortress has just gone out of Elder range. We may want to consider taking one of the pyramids out of the ship and moving it into the main fortress."

"You'll find yourself with a mutiny if you try it," the Prime warned. "Remember the thunder Speaker Cvv-panav brought down on the Overclan Seating when the Dhaa'rr Elder Prr't-zevisti was lost on Dorcas? You can bet he'll do the same if you put any of the Dhaa'rr Elders aboard the Closed Mouth at risk that way."

"This is war, Overclan Prime," the Supreme Commander said shortly. "We have no room for the Speaker for Dhaa'rr's delicate sensitivities." He looked around. "Speaking of whom, where is he? I thought he wanted to be here when the ship reached Mra."

The Prime grimaced. "He's still on Dharanv. I suspect he's arranged with the Dhaa'rr Elders to give him a private briefing there."

"He'd better not have," Prm-jevev said darkly. "Those Elders are warriors, under Warrior Command authority. I catch one of them making private reports, and I'll have him stricken from duty."

The Prime flicked his tongue sourly. It was the standard threat against Elders, and under most circumstances a highly effective one. No Elder with a useful job wanted it taken away from him, not with the possibility of hundreds of cyclics of boredom gazing back at him. But in this particular case the threat was effectively nonexistent. Warrior Command didn't have ships regularly going to Mra, any one of which could be ordered to collect the offending Elder's fsss cutting and bring it back.

Which meant that the Elders on Mra were there for the duration, and about all Supreme Commander Prm-jevev could do by way of punishment would be to refuse to accept the offending Elder's reports. Not exactly an ideal state of affairs.

An Elder appeared. "Searchers Gll-borgiv and Svv-selic have arrived at the entrance to the rim fortress," he reported. "The other guide Mrachanis are coming forward to meet them."

Another Elder appeared. " 'Standing in the stead of the rulers of the Mrachanis,' " he quoted, " 'I welcome our brothers the Zhirrzh to Mra.' "

"You have seen the danger," Valloittaja said, his tone dark and grim as he waved an arm toward the map of the Human-Conquerors' domain. "The enemy is powerful and ruthless, with both the will and the means to utterly destroy both our peoples. Only by joining together can we hope to survive."

"We agree," Nzz-oonaz said, his tail bumping against the Mrachani-style seat with each of its rapidly spinning turns. "But how can we hope to stop them?"

"Have courage," Valloittaja said, his gaze shifting to each of the three Zhirrzh in turn. "With boldness and skill they may yet be defeated." He touched a blue patch on the control board, and the map faded as two of the stars simultaneously brightened. "These are the centers of Human-Conqueror warrior power," he identified them. "Their public center on their homeworld Earth; and their secret auxiliary center on Phormbi, a colony world of their allies the Yycromae. If the Zhirrzh warriors can destroy both these locations, the war may yet be won."

"That seems reasonable," Nzz-oonaz said.

"But we must consult with Warrior Command," Gll-borgiv put in.

Nzz-oonaz glared at him, his tongue stiffening with anger. He was the only one who was supposed to speak directly with Valloittaja. Even Gll-borgiv should know that.

"If you are not permitted to make such decisions yourselves, I understand," Valloittaja said, an edge of impatience in his voice that made Nzz-oonaz wince. "But I urge you to waste no time. With the Human-Conquerors preparing to assemble CIRCE, our fates hang by threads above the fire."

"I'm sure they will agree," Nzz-oonaz said, wording the sentence carefully. The Mrachanis were not to know that the Elders were relaying a real-time account of this conversation to Warrior Command. "I'll contact them as soon as this meeting is over."

"Then do so," Valloittaja said, the impatience in his voice growing stronger. "If it would save precious time, perhaps you would allow me to present the Mrach position to them directly."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Nzz-oonaz told him. "Our communication method must still remain our secret."

"If it must," Valloittaja said, a knife edge of scorn cutting through his impatience. "But remind your leaders that unnecessary secrets between allies are a poison that can destroy as surely as any outside enemy."

"I'll tell them that," Nzz-oonaz promised. He would, too. The time for distrust of the Mrachanis was clearly over.