Conquerors' Heritage (4 page)

"One other thing," the Prime's voice said quietly from beside him.
Thrr-gilag looked over, a bit startled. He hadn't realized the Prime had followed him. "Yes, Overclan Prime?"
"There are certain things you and your group are aware of that have not been released to the general Zhirrzh public," the Prime said.
Thrr-gilag winced. Yes; Prr't-zevisti. "I understand fully," he assured the Prime. "I'll be careful not to say anything outside the complex."
"I'm sure you understand the sort of thing I'm talking about," the Prime went on as if he hadn't spoken. "Stories that would spread rumors and fear. Panic, even, particularly among those who are unaware of the full scope of the countermeasures Warrior Command is taking." He gazed hard at Thrr-gilag. "And I don't refer only to those outside the Overclan complex."
Thrr-gilag frowned at him. What in the eighteen worlds was the Prime getting at?
And then, abruptly, he got it. CIRCE. The Humans' ultimate weapon. Long ago disassembled, according to the captured Human recorder, with its components scattered among several planets of their empire for safekeeping. If they were allowed the time to collect those components and reassemble them once more into a functioning weapon...
The Prime was still studying his face. "You understand," he said.
"Yes," Thrr-gilag said, his tongue flicking in a shiver. He understood, all right. If even a hint leaked out at this point that their enemies had a weapon against which there might not be any defense at all...
He looked sharply at the Prime, the other's almost offhanded comment suddenly registering.Not only those outside the Overclan complex... "May I inquire," he asked carefully, "who among the Zhirrzh are aware of this aspect?"
"I am," the Prime said. "So are a handful of the supreme commanders at Warrior Command, the former Overclan Primes, and perhaps thirty other high-security Elders. Plus your alien-study group, of course."
Thrr-gilag pressed his tongue hard against the inside of his mouth. "And the Overclan Seating?"
The Prime didn't flinch. "It would not be advisable for them to know as yet."
"I see," Thrr-gilag murmured. Suddenly it all made sense, this mad rush to throw beachheads and encirclement forces at the Human worlds. Warrior Command wasn't looking for territory to conquer; it was trying desperately to capture or entrap one or more of CIRCE's components before the Humans could gather them together.
And in the meantime the Overclan Prime was trying equally hard to prevent Zhirrzh society from exploding into hysterical terror at the thought of the potential genocide facing them. And if that meant hiding the truth from even the Overclan Seating, then that was what they were going to do.
"You understand the situation," the Prime said. "I could lock you and the others away somewhere, but that would attract unwelcome attention and questions. So for the time being you're free to move about; but be assured that if you tell anyone about this thing, you and your whole family will suffer greatly. Do you understand?"
"I do," Thrr-gilag managed. "And if I may say so, Overclan Prime, there's no need to make threats. I understand as well as you the need to avoid a panic."
"Just so long as we understand each other," the Prime said. "Where exactly will you be going right now?"
"Just to get something to eat," Thrr-gilag said. "There's a place nearby called the Lapper's Paradise I thought I'd try."
"Very well," the Prime said. "But I meant what I said about staying close to the complex. These Mrachani aliens may hold the key to our survival against the Human-Conquerors."
Survival.Previous Overclan Primes throughout history, facing other aggressive alien races, had spoken not of survival but of victory. Or so the histories said.
But then, none of their other alien enemies had ever had a weapon like CIRCE. "I understand," Thrr-gilag said quietly. "I'll be close."
3
The Lapper's Paradise, Thrr-gilag had once heard, claimed to be the largest and best patronized full-service tavern in all of the eighteen worlds. He didn't know whether that was literally true, but certainly the establishment had both the floor space and the population base to take a good slash at the title. Located just across the main public thoroughfare that ran past the west side of the Overclan complex, the Paradise drew from the Speakers and aides of the Overclan Seating as well as from the population of Unity City itself, a population made up largely of the Overclan family members who served as the complex's permanent staff. From the way the crowd was packing into the tavern, it looked as if a goodly slice of that population was already there. Drinking, eating, and talking.
And worried sick. Thrr-gilag could hear the fear in the nervous laughter; could see it in the serious faces huddled together across tables; could smell it in the glycerol- and sweat-scented air.
Somewhere out there, in the blackness of space, the Humans were waiting. Powerful, deadly, and ruthless... and gathering for war.
Thrr-gilag sipped at his drink, looking around the tavern and listening to snatches of passing conversations as he marveled once again at the incredible speed of information flow that the Zhirrzh culture was capable of. He'd done his searcher thesis on general information dissemination among the cultures of the four known alien races, and in none of them had he found anything to compare with this vast informal network of Elders-one reason, his thesis had concluded, that the Zhirrzh had always been able to defeat the spacefaring races who attacked them.
But the Human empire was far larger than anything the Zhirrzh had faced before. And if the Humans had an Elder network of their own...
"Thrr-gilag?" a voice called from behind him.
Thrr-gilag turned around. Beckoning him over from a small group seated together around one of the tables was Nzz-oonaz. Picking up his drink, Thrr-gilag slid off his bar couch and went over. "Thought that was you," Nzz-oonaz said, indicating an empty couch across the table from him. "Join us?"
"Sure," Thrr-gilag said, easing past the other Zhirrzh and seating himself. "I'm surprised to find you here-I'd have thought you'd be standing over our prisoners."
"They're sleeping quite soundly," Nzz-oonaz said. "I decided I could risk leaving for a while." His tongue flicked sourly. "Besides, Gll-borgiv seems to have things well under control."
"Taking over, is he?"
"He's trying," Nzz-oonaz said. "Him and the whole Dhaa'rr clan, from Speaker Cvv-panav on down. Actually, I'm half-inclined to let them have the mess. See how farthey can get with it."
Thrr-gilag looked around the group. All of them were young members of the Overclan staff, he saw now, wearing the jumpsuits and insignia threads of assorted service positions within the complex. An admiring entourage of overawed youngsters? Or were they a quiet protector escort, here to make sure no one mentioned the name CIRCE? "From what I've heard of Speaker Cvv-panav, he'd probably enjoy the challenge," he commented.
"I'm sure he would," Nzz-oonaz said with a grimace. "Right up to the point where it rose up and strangled him." He took a sip from his cup. "I don't like this, Thrr-gilag. None of it. Especially this whole Mrachani business."
"Anything specific?"
"The whole thing strikes me as just a little too simplistic," Nzz-oonaz said. "They fire on the Cakk'rr ship with Elderdeath weapons but completely ignore my question as to why. They sleep practically the whole way back from Base World Twelve-which conveniently keeps them from having to answer any questions, you'll note-coming out of it just long enough to let us know they speak the Human language. We get here, and again they come up just long enough to deliver a plea for help before dropping back down again. You'd think that after four fullarcs they'd be healing and getting stronger, but you wouldn't know it from their behavior or metabolic readings."
Thrr-gilag thought about that. The complete lack of communication with the Mrachanis during the trip here had bothered him, too. "Still, it's not completely unreasonable," he said. "Without a biochemical/metabolic baseline, there's really no way to know how bad their injuries are."
Nzz-oonaz grunted. "Yes. Again, how convenient for them."
"You think they're spies for the Human-Conquerors, Searcher?" one of the Overclan youths asked.
"That's one possibility," Nzz-oonaz said. "Another is that they're fish lures, sent here to spin us this tale of a subjugated people eager to recruit allies. We go to their aid, and they promptly turn around and slice us in the neck. We've certainly done that sort of thing often enough to each other."
For a few hunbeats no one spoke. Thrr-gilag sipped at his drink, listening to the swirl of other conversations as he looked around the tavern. It was a mixed lot there this postmidarc, with little if any attention being paid to the old traditional standards of social and clan stratification that used to be the norm of Zhirrzh society. Construction and maintenance workers, professional people like searchers and advocates, even a scattering of warriors from the Unity City bases-all sitting or standing and drinking together. Over and through it all floated a mobile cloud of Elders, listening or joining in the conversations or just watching. Some scrutinized the unseemly mixing of social strata with undisguised disapproval; others watched the eating and drinking with wistfulness or equally undisguised envy.
Mostly, though, their expressions seemed to match those of the physicals around them. Like everyone else, the Elder community was worried.
"Perhaps we're being too cynical," another of the Overclan youths at the table said. "Perhaps the Mrachanis are being completely sincere. I can see where these Human-Conquerors would be pretty terrifying to everyone."
Thrr-gilag looked at the grim expression on Nzz-oonaz's face.If you only knew the half of it, he thought silently at the youth. "I'm sure we'll find out firsthand about that soon enough," he said aloud. "Speaking of Human attacks, Nzz-oonaz, has anyone been able to confirm yet whether the warcraft that hit the pyramid on Study World Eighteen were the same ones that hit us five tentharcs later?"
"I doubt it," Nzz-oonaz said. "From what I've heard, the pyramid on Study World Eighteen had mostly construction and structural engineer types aboard, there to study the ruins of that city. They didn't have any actual alien specialists along."
Thrr-gilag nodded heavily. Which meant there'd been no one there with the training to sort out the fine details of a specific alien's face or body type or stance, or who could memorize the unintelligible wing markings on an alien warcraft. "Typical," he said to Nzz-oonaz.
"You got that right," Nzz-oonaz grunted. "Bored Elders falling all over each other looking for something to do, but no one thought about putting an alien specialist'sfsss cutting out there."
Thrr-gilag flicked his tongue. "Backsight is always so much clearer," he reminded the other. "Any idea which clan was running that pyramid?"
"No idea," Thrr-gilag said. "Probably one of the ones who think alien studies are beneath the dignity of a proper Zhirrzh. You know: 'The proper study of Zhirrzh is Zhirrzh,' and all that."
Abruptly, an Elder appeared, his torso coming partway through the tabletop. "Searchers Nzz-oonaz and Thrr-gilag," he said, his faint voice barely audible over the background noise. "Urgent message: you're both needed at the medical center."
"The Mrachanis?" Nzz-oonaz asked as he and Thrr-gilag scrambled to their feet.
"Yes," the Elder said. "Their metabolic readings have suddenly dropped. Searchers Gll-borgiv and Svv-selic think they may be dying."
"Get me some readings," Nzz-oonaz ordered, starting across the crowded tavern. "And tell Svv-selic to rig life-support gear."
"I obey," the Elder said, and vanished.
They headed for the door, the Overclan youths who'd been at their table forming a traveling wedge that cleared the way in front of them. They were just passing the end of the bar when the Elder returned. "Blood absorption readings on both aliens have dropped fifteen percent from their sleep levels," he reported. "Respiration has slowed and become erratic; galvanic response and brain-function activity are down twelve percent; cellular metabolic readings have dropped eight percent. Life-support equipment is in place and is being connected. Searcher Svv-selic has ordered four units of premarin colatyin for both aliens."
"Warn him to be careful," Nzz-oonaz said. "Overloading alien systems with untested drugs could kill them right here and now."
"I obey," the Elder said, and vanished.
They'd made it to the tavern's outer door by the time he returned. "There's been no response to the premarin," he said. "Six units of propodine miantoris are now being prepared for injection. Searcher Svv-selic says there's no choice now but to risk using these drugs."
Nzz-oonaz swore grimly under his breath. "Tell him we're on our way," he said as the group hurried out beneath the dark postmidarc clouds. "Let me know immediately if there are any signs of allergic reactions."
"I obey."
He disappeared. "Come on," Nzz-oonaz said, pointing Thrr-gilag to the left. "I've got a priority vehicle over here, a fast one. We can be there in three hunbeats." Thrr-gilag nodded. "Let's hope it's enough." It wasn't. They were across the public thoroughfare and speeding down the access tunnel toward the Overclan complex when the Elder brought the news that both aliens were dead.
They spent nearly a tentharc debriefing the technics who'd been on duty and analyzing every nuance of the events that had led up to the Mrachanis' deaths. Afterward came the autopsies-four more painstaking tentharcs' worth-which all four searchers sat in on. After that came more discussions, more analysis, and more study, stretching through the latearc.
By the time they were summoned to the Overclan Prime's private conference room, a tentharc after a gloomy sunrise, Thrr-gilag was as exhausted as he'd ever been in his life. And as discouraged.
"The summation line is that we simply don't know why they died," Nzz-oonaz said as he concluded their all-too-brief report. "It could have been a result of their injuries, the sudden upsurge of a disease organism they picked up during their short time on Base World Twelve, or some preexisting condition. Or something else entirely."
"Let me understand," the Prime said, his voice dark. "Our single most promising source of information about the Human-Conquerors, as well as a possible key to gaining some allies in this war. And you can't even tell me how they died."
"I'm sorry," Nzz-oonaz said, his voice quavering slightly beneath the combined glare of the Prime and the four speakers facing them. "We'll continue our studies, of course. But without a baseline for the species, it's unlikely we'll learn much more than we have already."