Conquerors' Heritage (17 page)

The Prime knew better. The Zhirrzh forces were in fact teetering on the edge of disaster.
The Prime sighed again, leaning back on his couch and staring morosely up at the overview star chart projected on his office wall. The Zhirrzh people didn't realize it, of course. Probably most of the clan Speakers didn't, either. But Warrior Command knew. And so did he.
Because the Human-Conquerors weren't just sitting there accepting their defeats. They'd been taken by surprise, perhaps, by the vigor of the response to their attack on the Zhirrzh survey ships. But that wouldn't last. Already they were gathering their strength and striking back, more often than not with devastating results. The huge Nova-class warcraft mentioned in the captured recorder had made their appearances, as had the awesomely deadly Copperhead warriors. So far all the attacks had been beaten off, but at a steep price. The Kalevala encirclement forces were down to two combat-ready warships; the Massif forces were completely helpless. If the incredibly tough ceramic hulls hadn't disguised the internal damage, the Human-Conquerors would undoubtedly have been back already to finish the job. As it was, the warriors and technics had some breathing space to try to effect repairs.
But they wouldn't have long. These were the Humans. The Conquerors. They would soon be back.
And unless the beachheads had succeeded in locking a critical component away from them, the next time they came, they might have CIRCE with them.
The Prime cursed softly under his breath as he gazed up at the star chart. They were spread too thin. That was the real summation line here: they were spread too cursedly thin. Worse, they were concentrated in the same general part of the Human-Conqueror empire, the sections denoted as Lyra and Pegasus Sectors. The enemy knew where to find them and could bring all their forces to bear with a minimum of logistical trouble.
What the Zhirrzh needed was something to shake up the enemy, something to diffuse their focus. A bold strike into some other area of their empire, perhaps. Maybe even one of their more populous central worlds: Celadon, Prospect, Avon, or even Earth itself. It would be a risk, but a reasonably minimal one as long as they kept the strike brief. With warships impossible to track through the tunnel-line of stardrive, it would be a trivial matter to sneak across the Human-Conqueror empire to whatever world the Zhirrzh warriors chose to hit. At that point the uncertainties would be due mainly to the unknown defenses they'd find at the other end.
"Overclan Prime?" a faint Elder voice came in the silence.
The Prime looked up, stiffening to a respectful posture. Not just an Elder, but one of the twenty-eight Overclan Primes who had gone before him. "Yes, Eighteenth?" he said.
"Your private chambers, if you please," the Eighteenth said shortly. "There are matters we need to discuss."
"Certainly," the Prime said, a twinge of concern flicking through him as he stood up from his couch. The Eighteenth was about as imperturbable a personality as former Primes ever got. For him to be troubled meant something decidedly unpleasant was in the works.
To the average Zhirrzh the Overclan complex was generally seen as a triumph of cooperation, a monument to openness and honesty between the clans. Cooperation there might be, at least after a fashion; the openness, however, was little more than a cleverly structured illusion. The main Overclan Seating chamber itself was open enough, certainly, accessible to Elders from two family shrines and a dozen of the smaller cutting pyramids. But only the chamber itself was accessible. The two office buildings, with their offices, conference rooms, and other work areas, had been carefully positioned to be just out of range of all of them.
Only the two Overclan pyramids located in the Seating chamber itself had access to the entire complex. And it was regarding those that the cleverest stratagem of all had been created. On the vast open area between the chamber building and the two office buildings was a memorial display of some of the most powerful and deadly war machines the Zhirrzh had created throughout their long and violent history. A highly impressive display, too, with long-range cannon, fighter aircraft, and over twenty of the siege and battle machines that had rolled destruction and death across the battlefields of the three Eldership Wars. A mute reminder of what life on Oaccanv had been like before the creation of the Overclan Seating.
That was what the visitors to the memorial saw. What they didn't see was that two of the siege machines were made entirely of metal. Metal that cast shadowlike spaces which the Elders from the main Overclan family shrine could not enter.
The secure conference room in the Speakers' office building lay nestled in one of those shadows. The Overclan Prime's private chambers lay in the other.
The existence of those carefully positioned shadows was a closely guarded secret, known only to the Prime and certain of the Overclan Speakers. And only the Prime knew that the two inaccessible areas were not, in fact,entirely inaccessible.
The former Primes were waiting when he arrived in his chambers-all twenty-eight of them, in fact, by a quick count as the Prime sealed the door behind him. Another sign that this matter was something serious. "I greet the former Overclan Primes," he said, stepping over to his couch and sitting down. "To what do I owe the honor of this assembly?"
"To a looming crisis," the Twelfth growled. "A crisis which, if not dealt with quickly and decisively, could conceivably rip apart the very fabric of Zhirrzh society."
"Really," the Prime said, eying the set expression on the other's transparent face. The Twelfth, he knew, was inclined to be overly dramatic, as well as seeing crises and disasters beneath every stone. Still, this seemed beyond even his usual pessimism. "Is there general consensus on this?"
"The Twelfth perhaps overstates the case a bit," the Twenty-second said. "But-"
"I overstate nothing-"
"But he is correct," the Twenty-second said, raising his voice, "in saying the problem must be dealt with quickly."
"Then let me hear it," the Prime said, moving to take control of the discussion. Having five hundred cyclics' worth of leadership experience in the same room, he'd long ago discovered, was not nearly as useful or productive as he'd once thought it would be. Vastly different personalities from vastly different eras, yet with the same compelling strength of will that had gained each of them the position of Overclan Prime in the first place. All convinced on one level or another that they should still have a say in the management of the eighteen worlds. "Which of you first heard about this crisis?"
"It was I," the Seventh spoke up. "From one who was once Speaker for Kee'rr, now anchored at the Thrr family shrine with a cutting at the third pyramid of Unity City. You are, I believe, familiar with the Thrr family of the Kee'rr. One of its sons, Searcher Thrr-gilag, was the incompetent fool who allowed the Human-Conqueror prisoner to escape."
"I know Searcher Thrr-gilag, yes," the Prime said. "I'm not prepared to judge him incompetent. Certainly not on that basis."
"He should at least have made sure the prisoner died," the Seventh sniffed. "The Zhirrzh warriors of my time knew to do that much."
"Yes, he could have done that," the Prime agreed. "And in doing so might have found himself and his entire group raised to Eldership by the Human-Conquerors."
"It is hardly a dishonor to be raised to Eldership," the Twentieth bristled.
"It is when we need their hands right where they are," the Prime countered. "If they'd all been raised to Eldership, who would have cared for the injured Mrachani prisoners until theDiligent could arrive? More important, who would have been there to stop the Human-Conqueror warriors from landing and gathering up all of the Base World's records? Are you that anxious to see enemy warcraft flying over Oaccanv?"
"Calm down, Prime," the Eighteenth soothed. "No one's going to blame a searcher for not acting like a warrior under fire. Speaking of Thrr-gilag, were you aware that he'd left Oaccanv?"
The Prime frowned. "No, I wasn't. When was this?"
"Early this premidarc, apparently," the Eighteenth said. "The Overclan location server didn't realize he was missing until Thrr-gilag's brother, Commander Thrr-mezaz, called to set up a pathway to him. It took the location server several tentharcs to track him to a warrior supply ship bound for Gree."
"For Gree?" the Fifteenth asked. "What in the eighteen worlds is he going there for?"
"He's bond-engaged to a searcher working there," the Prime sighed. "Searcher Klnn-dawan-a; Dhaa'rr. I should have thought of that-it was in his file."
"I was under the impression that you were going to hold all the Mrachani-expedition members here in the complex," the Seventh said.
"Searcher Thrr-gilag asked for permission to visit his parents," the Prime said. "I granted it."
"Along with permission to leave the planet?"
"Nothing specifically was said either way," the Prime said. "I wasn't expecting him to leave Oaccanv; but actually I can't see any particular harm in it."
"Really," the Twelfth growled. "A Zhirrzh who holds full knowledge of CIRCE, and you can't see the harm in letting him wander around untended?"
"Calm down," the Prime said. "It's all right. He won't say anything."
"Can you be certain of that?" the Twelfth demanded. "Absolutely certain?"
"Yes, I can," the Prime said firmly. "As I've already said, I've read his file. Carefully. A graduate in alien studies with exceptionally high marks, his behavior and deportment since childhood have been equally exceptional. Granted, he's young and obviously somewhat inexperienced, but he's neither foolish nor impulsive nor careless. More to the point, he appreciates as well as you how devastating a premature disclosure of CIRCE's existence would be. He won't say anything."
"Trust is a noble quality for an Overclan Prime to possess," the Seventh said contemptuously. "It can also be his downfall. May I suggest that we at least arrange for all future communications from this Thrr-gilag to be routed through our communicators here at the complex?"
The Prime waved an impatient hand. "If it would make you feel better, go ahead."
"Thank you," the Seventh said frostily, and vanished.
"Interesting," the Eighteenth commented, eying the Prime thoughtfully. "All that about Thrr-gilag-I daresay it sounded rather like a prepared speech."
"Not preparation; familiarity," the Prime corrected him with a grimace. "As it happens, I've already fought the same battle with the Speaker for Dhaa'rr. Twice, actually. I must say I'm getting a little tired of it."
"Understandable," the Eighteenth said. "I only hope this young searcher is worthy of your trust."
"He's worthy of more than just trust," the Prime growled. "I've seen his file and read his reports, and it's clear to me that he has an exceptionally good mind for alien cultures and behavior. And we're going to need every bit of such insight in this struggle against the Human-Conquerors."
"True," the Fourteenth put in. "Besides which, if he's planning to talk, it's already too late to stop him."
The Seventh reappeared. "The pathway watch is set," he said, throwing one last glare at the Prime. "May we get back to the immediate issue at hand now?"
"Please do," the Prime said, gesturing polite invitation.
"Very well," the Seventh sniffed. "It concerns Searcher Thrr-gilag's mother, Thrr-pifix-a. Earlier this fullarc she traveled to the Thrr family shrine and attempted to steal herfsss organ." His eyes bored into the Prime's face. "Apparently, she wishes to refuse Eldership."
"I see," the Prime said. "And?"
The Seventh frowned. "What do you mean,and? Surely you can see the implications."
"Did she succeed?" the Prime asked.
"No," the Seventh said. "The chief protector of the shrine was suspicious and stopped her in time."
"Then, no, I don't see the implications." The Prime shrugged. "We get crazed fanatics all the time who try to steal theirfsss organs."
"Which is precisely where the problem lies," the Eighteenth said impatiently. "Thrr-pifix-a isn't a crazed fanatic-that's what makes her so dangerous. She's a simple, quiet, reasonable old female; nothing more, nothing less. A reasonable person who has nevertheless decided that she would prefer death to Eldership."
"I'm sorry, but I still don't see the problem," the Prime said. "What are you afraid of-that she'll go off and create some wide-scale protest movement against Eldership?"
"Exactly," the Twenty-second said. "Not that she'll do it on her own, necessarily, but that she could become the flash point for such a movement."
"There are philosophical aspects to this, you see," the Eighteenth added. "Aspects that go beyond her particular case."
"Correct," the Twelfth said. "And those aspects-"
"Please," a quiet voice said.
The other Elders felt instantly silent, and the Prime stiffened with respect as the Elder who'd spoken left the group and came toward him. Not just another former Prime, but the First. The Zhirrzh who'd been chosen as their world's last hope by the clan leaders assembled together on that final smoking battlefield of the Third Eldership War. The Zhirrzh who'd stood stoically before them and been stripped forever of all family and clan ties. The Zhirrzh who'd accepted the awesome task of turning generations of hatred and mistrust into first an armistice and then a lasting peace. And who had succeeded.
The First seldom spoke at these gatherings. When he did, they all listened.
"Perhaps you do not see, Twenty-ninth," he said in that same quiet voice, "because you regard the past from too great a distance. You see history as events that happened to other Zhirrzh instead of as a force that has not only molded our society but also strongly influenced the ways in which we think. The three Eldership Wars were, at their core, wars over rights: the rights of common Zhirrzh to have theirfsss organs preserved as their leaders already had; the rights of Elders to have theirfsss organs protected from deliberate or accidental destruction; the rights of Elders and physicals alike to living space, without one group being displaced to make exclusive room for the other."
The Prime nodded. Yes; and that last conflict was one that was beginning to lift its ugly head again. "I understand, First," he said.
"Good," the First said. "Then consider for a hunbeat what Thrr-pifix-a is really asking. She is asking for Eldership to no longer be a right, but a privilege."
The Prime frowned. That was an angle that hadn't even occurred to him. "I see what you're saying," he said hesitantly. "But can't something like Eldership be both a right and a privilege?"