4

Thrr-mezaz frowned at the Elder floating in front of him. "Yes, we've been getting bits and pieces already about this diplomatic mission to the Mrachanis," he said. "Excuse my ignorance of politics, my brother, but the whole thing strikes me as a little premature."

The Elder nodded and vanished. Shifting on his couch, Thrr-mezaz looked out the window at the Human-Conqueror village and the swaying plant life beyond its borders. At first he'd rather liked the idea of having a premade headquarters to move into on Dorcas, even one of alien design and manufacture. But that comfortable feeling had eroded considerably over the past eleven fullarcs. Aside from occasional harassing raids, the Human-Conquerors were still sitting mostly silently out there in their mountain stronghold.

Far too silently. The only logical explanation was that they were preparing a major counteroffensive.

And when that assault came, Thrr-mezaz had the feeling that his Zhirrzh were going to feel badly exposed here in their borrowed dwellings. Perhaps he should try one more time to persuade Supreme Ship Commander Dkll-kumvit to let him disperse his warriors into the wooded areas surrounding the village. It would be less convenient, but far more concealed.

The Elder reappeared. " 'I don't think it's all that premature,' " he quoted Thrr-gilag's words. " 'The Humans are an extremely dangerous threat. We need to learn as much about them as we can, and the quicker the better. I just hope this mission is the right way to go about it.' "

"It sounds like you're not all that eager to go," Thrr-mezaz suggested. "Is anything specifically wrong?"

The Elder nodded again and was gone. Reaching to his desk, Thrr-mezaz activated his reader and called up the most recent update from the encirclement warships orbiting the planet. Another small Human-Conqueror spacecraft had come into the system about twenty hunbeats ago, too far away for the Zhirrzh warships to reach before it left again. It had sent laser communications at the planet, though, obviously intended for the Human-Conqueror stronghold. The messages had been unintelligible; the language experts and translators were still trying to decipher them.

The Elder returned. " 'I'm not exactly wild about going, naturally. But what bothers me most is that the Speaker for Dhaa'rr has insisted on Gll-borgiv going as Dhaa'rr alien specialist. With the unquestioning acquiescence of the Overclan Prime, I might add.' "

Gll-borgiv; Dhaa'rr. The name didn't mean anything to Thrr-mezaz. "Is this Gll-borgiv incompetent?" he asked.

He was rereading the report for the second time when the Elder returned. " 'Not incompetent as such, but nowhere near the best the Dhaa'rr have. Klnn-dawan-a could slice circles around him on her worst fullarc, just to name one.' "

Thrr-mezaz had to smile at that one. "There wouldn't be any personal bias mixed into that assessment, would there?" he asked blandly.

" 'None at all,' " the somewhat indignant answer came back a hunbeat later. " 'I've seen Klnn-dawan-a at work. She's a highly capable searcher.' "

And even if she wasn't, Thrr-mezaz suspected, Thrr-gilag would defend her abilities just as passionately. Love was like that. "Maybe she's just too far away from Oaccanv or too embroiled in some other study right now," he soothed. "That could be why the Speaker for Dhaa'rr didn't pick her."

" 'She's on Gree studying the Chig,' " the answer came back. " 'That's only a fullarc's spaceflight away. I guess what bothers me most is that my part in the fiasco on Base World Twelve may have influenced Speaker Cvv-panav's decision. It feels like the Dhaa'rr are trying to put as much distance as possible between them and me, even if it means sending less than their best to the Mrachanis.' "

Thrr-mezaz slid his tongue gently around the inside of his mouth. "Well, don't go all paranoid before you absolutely have to," he advised his brother. "Don't forget that the main reason you were assigned to this mission in the first place was that you were the only Kee'rr alien specialist close enough to Base World Twelve to get there before the Human-Conqueror prisoner arrived. Decisions get made for lots of different reasons."

The Elder nodded and vanished. Reaching to his reader, Thrr-mezaz called up the reports of the last four intrusions by Human-Conqueror spacecraft and arrayed them side by side. Four intrusions in two fullarcs, three of them in the past fullarc alone. It was surveillance, all right; surveillance and communication with the Human-Conquerors in the mountains. But in preparation for what?

Whatever it was, he doubted he was going to like it.

The Elder reappeared. " 'I suppose you're right. And I suppose I'd better let you get back to your work, too. Are you doing all right?' "

"No worse than any warrior does in enemy territory," Thrr-mezaz said dryly. "It comes with the ranking threads. But we get by." He hesitated. "Incidentally, were you planning to see Mother while you're on Oaccanv?"

The pause this time was longer, and Thrr-mezaz was picturing a puzzled frown on his brother's face when the Elder finally returned. " 'I was hoping to see her and Father both. Why? Is anything wrong?' "

"She's been having some problems," Thrr-mezaz said evasively, wishing he hadn't had to bring this up. Thrr-gilag had been with that archaeology group on Study World 15 half a cyclic ago when the whole problem really started, and it hadn't been something either he or their father, Thrr't-rokik, had wanted to trust to the gossiping of the Elder communications network. But his brother deserved to know that things there weren't right before he walked in on it. "She's moved, for one thing. I wasn't sure you knew that."

" 'No, I didn't,' " the reply came back. " 'When was this?' "

"About thirty fullarcs ago," Thrr-mezaz said. "She's in a little house just south of Reeds Village now."

Another long pause. " 'But I was talking to her right around that time, Thrr-mezaz. That was just before I was grabbed and taken to Base World Twelve to meet with the Human prisoner. She never mentioned anything about a move.' "

Thrr-mezaz sighed. "You can ask her about it when you see her," he said. "Father can give you directions to her new house. And some of the details about the move."

He'd expected another long pause, but the answer came back with only the usual delay. Clearly, Thrr-gilag had picked up that this was something private and not to be discussed via an Elder pathway. " 'All right. You be careful, my brother. Much as I'd like to see you, I'd just as soon you not arrive at the family shrine while I'm visiting.' "

"I'll be careful," Thrr-mezaz assured him. "You too, especially on this new expedition of yours."

The Elder was back a hunbeat later. " 'I will,' " he said. " 'Farewell, my brother.' "

"Farewell, Thrr-gilag," Thrr-mezaz said with a sigh. "You may release the pathway, Communicator," he added.

"I obey." The Elder vanished, returning quickly. "The pathway is released, Commander. Will there be anything more?"

"Not right now," Thrr-mezaz said. "Return to your observation duties."

A flicker of distaste might have crossed that transparent face. "I obey," he said, and vanished.

"But not happily," Thrr-mezaz murmured, turning back to his reader. A dazzling bit of understatement, really; and under the circumstances, he could hardly blame the Elders for their anger with him. They'd been brought along to serve as communicators, information pipelines between the Dorcas expeditionary force and home. Having them double as sentries had been a flick-of-the-beat idea of Thrr-mezaz's, partly a response to the limited number of warriors he'd been given and partly because it had seemed like such a good idea.

No one else had thought so, even back then. Now, with Prr't-zevisti gone, the Elders were half a beat away from open revolt, putting pressure on him to pull the pyramids back inside the perimeter, and undoubtedly making the same demands of the Overclan Seating and Warrior Command.

Thrr-mezaz sighed. No, it wasn't paranoia on Thrr-gilag's part to think the Speaker for Dhaa'rr was trying to distance his clan from the Thrr family. Between Thrr-gilag's mistakes on Base World 12 and Thrr-mezaz's own fiasco here, he wouldn't be surprised if the Kee'rr-clan leaders themselves decided to throw the family out.

And the consequences of all this were likely to hit his younger brother far more personally and deeply than Thrr-gilag had yet realized. Or at least more deeply than he was letting on.

With an effort Thrr-mezaz sliced the thought away. Thrr-gilag was his brother; but right now even the needs and future of his family must be subordinated to the task facing him here on Dorcas. Optimistic official statements to the contrary, Thrr-mezaz himself had a strong sense that this was the opening round in a long and potentially devastating war.

And in that kind of situation the actions of a simple ground-warrior commander on a minor enemy world could prove as momentous as anything else that happened across the vast reaches of space.

He pulled up a map of the land surrounding their appropriated Human-Conqueror village; and he was just settling down to search for a good place to move his encampment when the clanging of the alarm split the silence.

"Alert!" he shouted unnecessarily to the warriors in the command/monitor room, jabbing at the alarm to mute it. An Elder appeared in front of him. "Have all communicators report on enemy activity," he ordered, getting up from his couch.

"I obey," the Elder said, vanishing.

One of the warriors poked his head around the door into the office. "Signal from the Imperative, Commander," he called. "An attack force of seven midsized Human-Conqueror warcraft have entered the system. They'll be in combat range of the encirclement forces in approximately six hunbeats."

Four Elders appeared. "We find no indications of Human-Conqueror movement, Commander," one of them reported.

"There will be," Thrr-mezaz told them, heading for the door. "Have everyone spread out to the full range of their anchorlines and keep moving around. And don't watch only in the direction of the mountains—the Human-Conquerors are tricky. Let me know the instant you spot anything."

The command/monitor room was buzzing with activity. For a few beats Thrr-mezaz paused in the doorway, surveying his warriors, giving special attention to the movements of their tails. But there were no panic spins. Untried for the most part before this expedition, the beachhead attack and Human-Conqueror harassment were rapidly hardening them into combat veterans. Above them, hovering silently out of the way, a half-dozen Elders waited to run Thrr-mezaz's orders out to the perimeter warrior teams, the protector units at the four pyramids, and anyone else who was out of the optronic direct-communication circuit they'd set up within the village. The Elders themselves were unlikely to panic, fortunately. All were combat veterans, mostly from wars fought two and three generations ago against other alien enemies.

Small and inexperienced, the Dorcas expeditionary force nevertheless had good potential. Thrr-mezaz could only hope it had gathered together enough of that potential to stand against whatever was about to happen. "Report," he said, stepping into the room.

"All ground defense systems energized and standing ready, Commander," one of the warriors said. "Warrior patrols are moving to their perimeter jump points."

"We have a direct laser link now with the shipboard monitor cameras," another added.

"Good," Thrr-mezaz said. Supreme Ship Commander Dkll-kumvit and his warriors would undoubtedly be too busy to talk to him, but this way he'd at least be able to observe the space battle. "Offer them good luck, then maintain silence unless they address you."

"I obey, Commander," the warrior said, turning back to his monitor.

"So," the quiet voice of Second Commander Klnn-vavgi said from beside Thrr-mezaz. "You think this is it?"

"You mean their main counteroffensive?" Thrr-mezaz flicked his tongue in a negative. "No. What we have here, Second, is little more than a probe. A few warcraft, a simultaneous air assault, perhaps some ground warriors thrown in for good measure. A test of our strength, or of their ability to befuddle us with multiple opponents."

"Maybe." Klnn-vavgi looked around the room at the monitor stations. Thinking, perhaps, of the warriors' lack of experience. "I hope you're right."

"No, you've got that backward," Thrr-mezaz advised him dryly. "You're supposed to hope I'm wrong. That way I'll be demoted in disgrace, and you can settle down to revel in the glory of command."

"There are several highly impolite words that would reflect my opinion of such glory," Klnn-vavgi said tartly. "As far as I'm concerned, you're the right Zhirrzh for this particular hot seat, and clan politics be damned."

Thrr-mezaz smiled. There was loyalty to one's family, to one's clan, to one's warrior unit. And then there was friendship, which could supersede them all. "Thank you, my friend," he said. "I hope you feel the same way when Speaker Cvv-panav offers you my job."

"He already has," Klnn-vavgi said. "I told him what I just told you. Shouldn't we be getting the Stingbirds into the air?"

For a pair of beats Thrr-mezaz stared at him, the other's question barely registering. He'd meant that crack about Cvv-panav to be facetious, a slightly disparaging comment on the Speaker's fondness for throwing Dhaa'rr political weight around. To find out that Cvv-panav had already been trying to do exactly that...

"Commander?" Klnn-vavgi prompted.

With an effort Thrr-mezaz brought his attention back to the task at hand. As Klnn-vavgi had already said, clan politics be damned. "No," he said. "We're leaving all our aircraft right where they are."

Klnn-vavgi's midlight pupils contracted noticeably. "Commander, if I may recommend—"

"We're leaving them where they are, Second," Thrr-mezaz repeated, glancing up at the group of silent Elders above him. They'd heard the whole exchange, of course, which probably meant that in a couple of fullarcs the Elders of all eighteen worlds would know that the Speaker for Dhaa'rr had tried to have him replaced. Should make for some interesting discussions. "Seriously, Klnn-vavgi, it's really our best strategy," he continued. "Our ground defenses should be adequate to handle anything they have except those two Copperhead warriors. I want to hold the Stingbirds in reserve against the fullarc that we find a way to deal with those."

"Excuse me, Commander," an Elder said, leaving the hovering group and moving in front of him. "I have to say that I stand with Second Commander Klnn-vavgi in recommending we lift the Stingbirds. This looks disturbingly like the same entrapment situation the Chig used against us in the Battle of Ko Roaddo. I was there, in a ground force consisting of—"

"The Battle of Ko Roaddo was nothing like this," Thrr-mezaz interrupted, resisting the urge simply to tell him to shut up and get back to his post. If he had a tentharc's leave for every time some Elder insisted on giving him sage advice based on out-of-date experience, he'd be retired with high honors by now. "For one thing, these aren't Chig. For another, the Copperhead warriors are too valuable for their commander to waste."

"You don't know that he thinks that way," the Elder argued. "It wouldn't necessarily be wasting them, either. If the Copperhead warriors would give him victory, he'd be a fool not to use them."

"And if he does send them in," a second Elder added, moving in to back up his associate, "they'd be here before we could even get the Stingbirds off the ground."

"A victory down here would be meaningless as long as the encirclement is intact over his head," Thrr-mezaz said. "He must surely know that."

"I still stand with Second Commander Klnn-vavgi," the first Elder insisted.

"Good," Klnn-vavgi put in. "Because Second Commander Klnn-vavgi stands with his commander. The decision has been properly made; the order has been duly given. Now return to your duties."

Glowering, the two Elders moved back to the communicator group. "Thank you," Thrr-mezaz muttered.

"They mean well," Klnn-vavgi muttered back. "For whatever that's worth. You're right, though: their commander is surely smart enough not to risk his Copperhead warriors. Certainly not while our encirclement denies him replacements for them."

"Which is really the key point here," Thrr-mezaz said. "If our warships lose their phase of the battle, those Copperhead warriors are indeed likely to make an appearance. We'll have to keep close watch on that."

"Agreed," Klnn-vavgi said grimly. "So it's all up to Supreme Ship Commander Dkll-kumvit."

Thrr-mezaz glanced around the monitors. "There should be plenty for all of us to do."

"Commander?" one of the warriors called. "The Human-Conqueror warcraft have reached the encirclement. All warships are engaging."

"Acknowledged," Thrr-mezaz said, moving forward a few steps for a better view of the monitors. The Human-Conquerors had launched their explosive missiles, with their fighter warcraft following close behind. The Zhirrzh warships were responding with laser fire, targeting first on the missiles and second on the fighter warcraft. "What about their Elderdeath weapons?" he asked.

"No sign of them, Commander," the warrior said. "Not from either the warcraft or the missiles."

"Odd," Klnn-vavgi murmured. "You'd think they'd use those right from the start to try to cut off our communications. That's certainly what they did against the survey ships."

"Book Lesson Number One," Thrr-mezaz said. "The enemy will seldom accommodate your preconceptions of him. Stay alert; the ground commander could launch his attack anytime."

The words were barely out of his mouth when an Elder appeared. "They're coming, Commander," he said. "Three aircraft approaching from the southwest. Treetop height; range approximately fifteen thoustrides."

"Have someone keep watch on them," Thrr-mezaz ordered. "Are the warriors at the south and west jump points ready?"

The Elder vanished, reappearing a few beats later. "All three teams are ready," he reported.

"Tell them to stand quiet," Thrr-mezaz said. "They're not to attack without orders unless they're in immediate danger. Detail two Elders to run liaison and communication for each team; the rest will maintain surveillance."

"I obey," the Elder said, and again vanished.

"Alert the ground defense stations," Thrr-mezaz ordered the warrior at the appropriate monitor. "Prepare to repulse enemy aircraft."

"I obey, Commander."

"You're expecting them to send ground warriors in behind the aircraft?" Klnn-vavgi asked.

"I think there's a good chance they will," Thrr-gilag said. "That's why I ordered the perimeter warriors to stand quiet. No point in blatantly giving away their positions by firing on the aircraft."

"Especially since they probably wouldn't hit them anyway," Klnn-vavgi agreed. "I wonder how they were able to move those aircraft that far from the mountains without the encirclement warships spotting them."

"Slowly and carefully, no doubt," Thrr-gilag said. "Now that we know they can do that, we'll have to watch for it."

"Commander, laser scan has picked up the aircraft," one of the warriors spoke up. "Defenses ranging on them."

"They've veered off," someone else said. "Cutting back around—" He threw Thrr-mezaz a sharp look. "Heading directly for the southern pyramid."

"All ground defenses open fire," Thrr-mezaz ordered. "Communicator: probable air attack on southern pyramid. Order guards there to fire at will on enemy aircraft."

"I obey," one of the Elders said, and vanished.

"Everyone keep sharp," Thrr-mezaz warned the others, his eyes skipping across the monitors. "They've got something else under their tongues. Bet on it."

An Elder appeared. "Southern-pyramid guards have opened fire on the enemy aircraft. No apparent damage."

"The pyramid itself?"

"The aircraft don't seem to be firing." The Elder disappeared, was back three beats later. "Enemy aircraft have passed over the pyramid and left. Still without firing."

"Keep close watch," Klnn-vavgi said. "They may be back."

"I obey, Second Commander."

The Elder vanished; and as he did so, another popped into view. "Five enemy ground warriors have been spotted, Commander," he said, his tone edged with apprehension. "Two thoustrides northeast of the northern pyramid."

"Show me," Thrr-mezaz ordered, stepping over to a monitor that showed an aerial view of the village and surrounding terrain.

"Here," the Elder said, pointing a transparent tongue at a low ridge that ran roughly east to west a few thoustrides north of the village. "They're following behind this ridge," he added, tracing out a westward line.

"Heading for the pyramid, you think?" Klnn-vavgi suggested.

"Or else trying to use that ridge and those others as cover for an approach on the village." Thrr-mezaz frowned at the overview monitor, flicking his tongue out thoughtfully. "Or else..."

"Signal from Supreme Ship Commander Dkll-kumvit," one of the warriors called. "The Human-Conquerors have launched a group of fighter warcraft away from the battle, heading toward the planet surface."

"How far away are they?" Thrr-mezaz asked, crossing to him.

"Approximately eight thousand thoustrides," the warrior said. He indicated them on his monitor, a somewhat jumpy picture obviously being fed directly from one of the Imperatives optical viewers. "They're cutting down and away from both us and the Human-Conquerors' mountain stronghold."

"Going to drop straight to the surface and come in at low altitude from there," Klnn-vavgi muttered.

"And if they reach the lower atmosphere, the warships' lasers aren't going to be able to get them," Thrr-mezaz agreed. "Has Supreme Ship Commander Dkll-kumvit detailed a warship to intercept them?"

"The message didn't say," the warrior said. "But they may not be able to spare one right now."

Thrr-mezaz felt his tail speed up slightly as he studied the monitors. The warrior was right; the encirclement forces were taking a beating. Despite the Zhirrzh laser defenses, far too many of the Human-Conqueror missiles were getting through, their powerful concussive blasts sending devastating shock waves straight through the nearly indestructible ceramic hulls and into the more delicate structures and equipment within. Enough of this kind of pummeling, and the Zhirrzh warships would be turned to hard-shelled jelly.

Still, the prognosis was hardly desperate. Even as the Zhirrzh warships suffered under the Human-Conquerors' battering, their attack lasers were steadily ripping away at the softer composite metal hulls of the enemy warcraft and cutting a swath through the swarm of fighter warcraft. "Signal to Supreme Ship Commander Dkll-kumvit," he said. "Urgently request that he detail one of his warships to attack the Human-Conqueror fighter warcraft before they reach atmosphere. Second, order the Stingbirds to lift for interception."

"I obey, Commander," Klnn-vavgi said, stepping over to the Stingbird monitor.

Thrr-mezaz turned back to the Imperatives monitor; and as he did so, a half-dozen laser flashes lanced out toward the fighter warcraft diving toward the surface. "Supreme Ship Commander Dkll-kumvit seems to have acceded to your request, Commander," the warrior said. "The Requisite is dropping to intercept."

Another salvo of laser fire lanced out. Thrr-mezaz frowned hard at the monitor, wishing he had a better view of what was happening. "Communicator, have one of the Elders go straight up to his anchorline limit," he ordered. "I want to know if he can see anything."

"I obey."

"The Stingbirds are in the air," Klnn-vavgi reported, stepping back to Thrr-mezaz's side. "Anything on the fighter warcraft?"

"The Requisite is attacking them," Thrr-mezaz told him. "I've ordered an Elder to his anchorline limit to see if he can see anything."

Klnn-vavgi snorted gently. "If they get that close, we're already in trouble."

"True," Thrr-mezaz conceded. "Still, five thoustrides straight up should give him considerably less atmosphere to have to look through. He might at least be able to catch a glimpse of the Requisites laser fire. Stay on this one for me, Second. If those warcraft make it to the surface, we're in trouble."

"Right."

Thrr-mezaz moved over to the overview monitor. "Communicator, get me an update on those ground warriors."

An Elder appeared. "They appear to be changing direction," he reported, pointing to a spot. "They're behind this ridge now, moving slightly north of west."

Thrr-mezaz frowned at the monitor. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Commander."

"Get me a confirmation."

The Elder vanished, was back a half-dozen beats later. "Confirmed," he said, jabbing his tongue at the monitor again. "This is their position, and they're moving this direction."

"Thank you," Thrr-mezaz murmured, moving his tongue thoughtfully back and forth inside his mouth. Confirmed... only it didn't make any sense.

"Commander, the Requisite reports all the approaching Human-Conqueror fighter warcraft are out of the air," Klnn-vavgi called. "Either destroyed outright or crashed and presumed destroyed. I have two Stingbirds on their way to the projected crash site to confirm."

Thrr-mezaz felt some of the tension leave his tail. At least that threat had been neutralized. "Acknowledged, Second. Have two more standing ready as backup if enemy aircraft head that direction. And warn them to keep sharp. If the Human-Conquerors think they can salvage anything from the wreckage, we might see those Copperhead warriors after all."

"Right." Klnn-vavgi murmured an order to the warrior at the Stingbird monitor, then came over to join Thrr-mezaz. "Looks like the main Human-Conqueror attack force is preparing to disengage, too. What's left of them, anyway." He gestured at the overview monitor. "What are the ground warriors doing?"

"What they're mostly doing is not making any sense," Thrr-mezaz growled. "At last report they were here, moving along behind this ridge."

Klnn-vavgi frowned. "Where are they going?"

"Good question," Thrr-mezaz agreed. "They're not really getting any closer to either the northern pyramid or the village."

"Could this be the only route with adequate cover?" Klnn-vavgi suggested doubtfully.

"No," Thrr-mezaz said. "That's the whole point: it's not. This ridge here—see it? Leads almost due southwest, right over to this group of hills. At least as much cover as they've got now, and they'd end up in a line-of-sight position over the village. Or they could follow this other ridge over here and make their way to the pyramid."

"Maybe they're just lost," Klnn-vavgi sniffed. "Shall I send a couple of Stingbirds to chase them away?"

Thrr-mezaz gazed at the monitor, trying to think himself into the aliens' footsteps. All right. If they were heading for either the village or the northern pyramid, they weren't doing a very good job of it. Could they have merely been part of the Human-Conquerors' feint, like the aircraft that had overflown the south pyramid? Something else to keep the Zhirrzh ground warriors occupied while those reinforcement warcraft tried to sneak in?

Or was that merely what they were hoping he would think? Could the aircraft—maybe even the fighter warcraft—have actually been the distraction for the ground mission? Were they even now making their way toward some important objective, something outside the village itself?

"They had two high-power Elderdeath weapons operating when we first arrived," Thrr-mezaz said, tapping the shoulder of the warrior at the monitor. "Show me where those were."

"Yes, Commander," the warrior said, fingers and tongue flicking across the keyboard. A beat later two flashing spots appeared superimposed on the view, one at the northern edge of the village, the other on a hill a few thoustrides west of it. "The heavy air-assault craft destroyed both of them at the beginning of the invasion," the warrior added.

"Yes, I know," Thrr-mezaz said. But the Human-Conquerors had already demonstrated that they had small, portable Elderdeath weapons on hand. If they had another of the high-power versions hidden out there somewhere...

"Do you want me to send the Stingbirds?" Klnn-vavgi prompted.

Thrr-mezaz flicked out his tongue. Time for a command decision... and a command gamble. "No," he said. "Let's let them go a little farther. See if we can figure out where they're going."

He sensed the flick of Klnn-vavgi's tail. "I'm not sure that would be a wise idea," the second commander said. "We've already seen that some of their explosive weapons don't rely on line of sight. If we let them get too close, they could do considerable damage."

"I realize that," Thrr-mezaz said. "I think it's worth the risk."

"Commander, if I may suggest—"

"Commander, the enemy warcraft are withdrawing," one of the warriors called.

Thrr-mezaz looked over at the Imperative's optical-viewer feed in time to see the last of the Human-Conqueror warcraft flicker away. It was over, at least for now. "See if you can find out how extensive the damage to our warships was," he instructed the warrior.

"Yes, Commander," the other acknowledged. "It'll probably take a while, though—they're going to be busy up there. Just a beat... Commander, the Imperative reports that there was a series of laser-communication signals to the surface just before the Human-Conquerors withdrew."

Final messages. Or final orders. "Understood," Thrr-mezaz said. "Keep a close watch; the Human-Conquerors may have a second wave on its way."

"I don't think so," Klnn-vavgi said. "The ground warriors seem to have given up."

Thrr-mezaz turned to find an Elder hovering beside Klnn-vavgi. "Are you sure?"

"They've moved back to this point, Commander," the Elder said, indicating a spot. He vanished, reappeared—"They're here now. Moving back the way they came."

And moving pretty quickly, if the Elder was marking their position correctly. "Check and see if they're carrying anything they didn't have before," he instructed the Elder. "Or whether they seem to have left anything behind."

"I obey," the Elder said, vanishing. A handful of beats later he was back. "No to both questions," he said. "At least nothing larger than hand-sized. Do you want us to try to make a closer examination?"

"No need," Thrr-mezaz said. The Elders wouldn't have had a detailed list of what the Human-Conquerors had carried in, anyway. "Looks like they've aborted their mission. Whatever it was."

"There's still plenty of time to hit them before they get to the mountains," Klnn-vavgi pointed out. "With the Stingbirds or either of the two teams of ground warriors we've got on their flanks. Shall I give the orders?"

Gently, Thrr-mezaz rubbed his tongue against the inside of his mouth. Tactically, of course, the Second Commander's suggestion was certainly the thing to do. Every enemy warrior destroyed was one less warrior to threaten their beachhead. Plus the intangible but inevitable damage it would inflict on Human-Conqueror morale.

And if they hit the ground team now, before they got another half thoustride away, the Zhirrzh warriors would have the advantage of instant targeting and tactical information from the Elders anchored at the north pyramid. It would be a chance to prove to the skeptics, from Supreme Ship Commander Dkll-kumvit all the way up to Warrior Command, that using Elders as sentries this way was a sound and practical military tactic. A way finally to silence the rumblings of criticism and contempt that had been circling his head ever since the theft of Prr't-zevisti's fsss cutting.

Yes, he could easily destroy them. But if he did, they might never try this again. Whatever it was they were trying...

"No," he told Klnn-vavgi. "Let them go."

The low buzz of conversation around them vanished into silence. "Excuse me?" Klnn-vavgi asked carefully.

"We're letting them go," Thrr-mezaz repeated, turning away from the monitor. "We'll have the Elders watch them, of course, and I'll want both the ground warriors and the Stingbirds standing ready. But as long as they continue to head away from the village and the pyramids, we don't attack."

Klnn-vavgi cleared his throat. "With the Commander's permission—"

"They were up to something out there, Second," Thrr-mezaz said. "Something important. I want to make sure they feel secure enough to try it again."

"Understood," Klnn-vavgi said, his tone making it clear that he didn't understand at all. "What are you all sitting around for?" he added, throwing a quick glare around the room at the warriors watching them. "We have damage assessments to make, Stingbirds to service, and warriors to redeploy. And the Human-Conquerors might still decide to fight over the wreckage of those fighter warcraft. Get busy."

The warriors turned back to their monitors. Klnn-vavgi glared at them another couple of beats, then stepped to Thrr-mezaz's side. "This is risky, Thrr-mezaz," he said quietly. "And I don't mean just from a tactical standpoint. I hope you know what you're doing."

"So do I," Thrr-mezaz agreed. "History will have to pass the final judgment."

"That won't stop a thousand clan Speakers from writing their own versions of it."

"They'll be doing that whatever decisions I make at this point," Thrr-mezaz said. "The Thrr family is in political trouble, and there are going to be a lot of Zhirrzh scrambling to capitalize on that. That's the nature of politics."

"I suppose so," Klnn-vavgi said reluctantly. "It really shouldn't be allowed in wartime, though. I just hope Warrior Command has enough stiffening not to cave in to the whims of the Overclan Seating."

"I think they do," Thrr-mezaz said, sliding his tongue thoughtfully across the roof of his mouth. "There's been something different about Warrior Command these past few fullarcs. They've become more serious than I've ever heard them before."

"You know, I've been thinking the same thing," Klnn-vavgi said slowly. "The first few fullarcs after the survey ships were attacked, everything coming out of Warrior Command was all bright and brisk and businesslike. Cheerful, even, as if they were really looking forward to taking on this new challenge. And then suddenly it all changed."

Thrr-mezaz nodded. The messages and orders had suddenly become terse and grim, and Warrior Command had begun scrambling together new expeditionary forces to throw at the new enemy.

And so there they sat, underequipped, overvulnerable, trying to hold on to a barely tenable beachhead on a clearly minor Human-Conqueror world, while similarly underequipped and overvulnerable expeditionary forces did the same on other Human-Conqueror worlds.

Why?

"They know something, Klnn-vavgi," Thrr-mezaz said quietly. "Something they've learned about the Human-Conquerors that's got them scared. Something they can't or won't tell us."

"Could be." Klnn-vavgi snorted under his breath. "Then again, maybe some genius there has only just gotten around to counting and realized we're eighteen worlds against the Human-Conquerors' twenty-four."

"Maybe," Thrr-mezaz said. "If the data in that Human-Conqueror recorder can be believed, anyway. Personally, I'm not convinced the thing wasn't a deliberate deception. Planting a recorder loaded with disinformation would be just the sort of thing a devious conqueror race might do. Maybe this mission to the Mrachanis isn't so premature after all."

"The Mrach—? Oh, right. Those new aliens. That mission's confirmed to fly, then?"

"That's what I hear," Thrr-mezaz said. "I want you to keep close track of the Stingbirds heading out to the warcraft wreckage. It's still possible the ground warriors were nothing but an attempt to distract us."

"Maybe." Klnn-vavgi looked back at the overview monitor. "What do you think they were really up to?"

"I don't know," Thrr-mezaz said. "But I can't help noticing that that's the same general area they were in when they took Prr't-zevisti's cutting."

"Interesting point," Klnn-vavgi said slowly. "I'd assumed they were there that time to get a look at the pyramid. You think there's something hidden out there that they want?"

"Or else they're trying to plant some non-line-of-sight weapon in position," Thrr-mezaz said. "Or trying to gain access to an underground supply or tunnel system. All we know for sure is that it's important to them." He flicked his tongue. "And I don't want them waiting until they've gathered so much strength that we won't have a hope of stopping them."

Klnn-vavgi snorted. "Under the circumstances, I hardly think that's likely."

"Unfortunately, circumstances seldom stay constant for long," Thrr-mezaz countered dryly.

"Point," Klnn-vavgi conceded. "All right, I'll go watch the Stingbirds. What about you?"

Thrr-mezaz looked back at the monitor. "First, I want to make sure those ground warriors really do leave. After that... I think I'm going to get the Elders started on a thorough search of that area. See if we can get to whatever the enemy's looking for before they do."

5

It was quiet in the big metal room. Amazingly quiet, distressingly boring, and very, very lonely. An ideal sort of place, Prr't-zevisti had long since decided, for meditative remembrance and reflective thought. And such thoroughly positive pastimes as berating himself for having done such a mallet-headed thing in the first place.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, or at least no worse than everything that had gone before it. The first mistake had been a group one, with enough blame for everyone to get his fair share: no one had noticed that group of Human ground warriors until they were practically on top of the northern pyramid. The Zhirrzh warriors had done their best, but without a timely warning from the Elders their response had been unfocused and far too late. The Humans had reached the pyramid; but instead of destroying it, they'd simply poked around, broken into Prr't-zevisti's niche and taken his fsss cutting, and moved on.

His cutting. Hovering at the edge of the lightworld, Prr't-zevisti gazed down at the thin slice of tissue sitting there in its tiny sealed box. It had been taken from his fsss organ a little over seventeen cyclics ago, but he still remembered that event as vividly as if it had just been last fullarc. The procedure had been brand-new at the time, only a couple of cyclics old, and most of Prr't-zevisti's friends had sworn up and down that they'd never let a technic take a blade to their fsss organs. But Prr't-zevisti had always had a reckless streak to him, and the prospect of getting to flit between two different areas instead of being stuck in just one had been highly intriguing. A little thought, a little boredom—a little goading from his friends—and he'd had his name put on the list.

Letting the Human warriors get to the pyramid had been their first mistake. The second had merely compounded it. Instead of redoubling their efforts to destroy or defeat the enemy, the Zhirrzh warriors had shifted their focus to merely driving the attackers back into the mountains.

At the time, of course, no one had thought of it as a mistake. With Prr't-zevisti's fsss cutting bouncing ignominiously around in some Human's combat bag, an ill-placed shot by the Zhirrzh warriors could have vaporized the cutting and sent him snapping unceremoniously back to his main fsss anchorpoint at the Prr-family shrine. The Elders would certainly have pressured Commander Thrr-mezaz not to take such a risk, a point of view Prr't-zevisti himself would definitely have supported if he hadn't been so quickly taken out of direct range of the discussion. Besides which, considering why Commander Thrr-mezaz had put the communicators' pyramids outside the village in the first place, he'd probably had some crazy notion of Prr't-zevisti serving as a spy at the enemy mountain stronghold.

He'd kept a low profile during the first couple of tentharcs of his captivity, staying deep in the grayworld where he couldn't see and could hear only through his fsss cutting. Stoically enduring the Humans' discomforting and occasionally painful manipulation of the cutting.

Though none of it had been nearly as discomforting as the cutting process itself had been, seventeen cyclics ago. There was no way to apply an anesthetic, of course, and even though they'd used a cold-knife, a fair amount of pain had necessarily made it through to him. Far more sickening, at least to him, had been what the whole procedure had looked like. He'd seen other preserved fsss organs when he was a physical and had known that the preservation technique had left a thin, hard shell around the exterior of the small, finger-shaped organ. What he hadn't realized until the cutting operation was that either time, or those same preservatives, had turned the interior of the fsss into a fluid, jellylike substance. It oozed slowly around the knife as the healers cut, trickling down the side of the fsss like some sort of extra-thick kavra-fruit juice. Like something dead and decaying, even though he knew intellectually that it was fully alive and vibrant. He'd watched in morbid fascination, a combination of shocked disgust and stubborn pride preventing him from looking away, as they finished their cut and turned the parts right side up to minimize and contain the leakage. They'd applied a new treatment of more modern preservatives, sending an odd sort of double tingling sensation through him. Both sections had skinned over; the healers had announced the cutting a success; and as the disgust and pain had faded into disinterest and fatigue, Prr't-zevisti had wandered off.

The Humans had eventually lost interest in his cutting, too. And as darkness fell and the aliens settled down for the latearc, Prr't-zevisti had come up to the edge of the lightworld again and begun to poke around.

But he'd underestimated the enemy's cunning. The area where his cutting had been taken was absolutely crammed full of metal: metal weapons, metal tools, even what appeared to be metal packaging. Like every Elder, he knew that refined metal could not be breached; what he hadn't properly appreciated until then was that the effect went far beyond the actual physical space occupied by that metal. Each piece seemed to throw the grayworld equivalent of a shadow, a sharply defined area shaped exactly like the shadow that would have been created by a light source at his fsss cutting. A shadow as impenetrable as the metal itself. Obviously having to do with his anchorline, though he was rather surprised he'd never heard of this effect before.

And as he was picking his way carefully through the area, his full attention on the metal and the shadows, the Humans had sprung their trap.

He was standing there in the darkness—he or she; Prr't-zevisti still didn't know which. Standing there waiting for him to make his appearance... and even as Prr't-zevisti had belatedly noticed him, the Human had let out a shriek of discovery and triumph that had echoed through his mind a half-dozen beats after he'd dropped frantically back into the grayworld.

For a while he'd stayed there in the haze, unwilling to come up and risk being seen again. Silly, of course—irrational, even; trying to hide himself in the grayworld while his fsss cutting sat open and unprotected in Human hands. Presently, he'd heard voices and felt movement and, bracing himself, had come back up.

To find a Human carrying his fsss cutting toward a room-sized box rising above the shorter stacks around it. A thick-walled box, with an equally thick door, furnished with lights and a long table and shelves stacked high with equipment.

A room made entirely of metal.

There'd been a room very much like it back on the Dhaa'rr homeworld of Dharanv, he remembered. Once the cutting had been pronounced viable, the healers and technics had offered to take his fsss into that room and take a second cutting from it. The metal, they'd pointed out, would force him to anchor to the just-completed cutting, blocking all pain and discomfort from the fsss itself away from him. They'd been rather enthusiastic about the whole idea, a fact that had struck him as rather suspicious. He'd satisfied the requirements of pride and curiosity, and had no intention of being someone's experimental animal, and had politely declined.

But the Humans hadn't asked his permission to put him in their metal box. Nor were they likely to do so. And once his cutting was inside it, he'd be well and truly trapped there.

He'd been gone in an instant, stretching out and upward to the full length of his anchorline, sweeping across the foreshortened hemisphere that was all the surrounding piles of metal had left him, searching frantically for the anchorpoint-sense that would have shown he had a clear path back to safety at the Prr-family shrine. But nothing. He'd scanned the stars, wondering what the chances might be that Dorcas's rotation would bring the Dhaa'rr ancestral world of Dharanv into range in the handful of beats it would take the Humans to reach the box. But the stars were difficult to see from even the closest edge of the lightworld, and the constellations there were too different from those of home. He'd flicked back to the cutting—nearly to the metal box now—back to his anchorline limit; back to the cutting—just inside the door now, instantly shrinking his available angular range to practically zero—one last time along the anchorline—

And even as he'd shot back to the cutting, the door had swung shut with a deep and hollow boom.

Prr't-zevisti had gone over the scene probably a thousand times since then, wondering what he could have done that would have saved him from this. Should he have paid more attention when he'd first started looking around, putting more effort into avoiding detection? Should he not have dropped down into the grayworld, hiding like a frightened child, after he'd been spotted? Seventeen cyclics too late, of course, but should he have allowed the technics to take that second cutting? Another cutting, nestled in a pyramid on another of the eighteen worlds, might have been open to him.

Or should he perhaps have taken the ultimate gamble? Should he have simply stayed at the length of his anchorline and let the Humans close the metal on his fsss cutting?

It was a thought that had occurred more and more frequently to him these past few fullarcs, and it was a thought that had never yet failed to send a chill through the core of his being. The anchorpoint effect of the fsss organ had been known among the Zhirrzh since prehistoric times, whereas the double-anchorpoint of a fsss plus a fsss cutting had become practical only twenty cyclics ago. Barely enough time for the Zhirrzh people to become comfortable with the idea; far too little for a situation even remotely similar to this one to have come up. It was possible, he supposed, that if he'd let them cut him off from his fsss cutting, he would simply have hung out there in space until the Prr-family shrine had cleared the shadowing metal and he'd been drawn back home.

It was possible. But in Prr't-zevisti's opinion, it was vanishingly improbable. It was far more likely that, like an Elder whose fsss was destroyed, he would simply have died.

Would have died.

Which was really why this whole line of thought was so unnerving to him. The fact that he was even thinking such things implied a desperation far out of proportion to his situation. Eight fullarcs of imprisonment should not be enough to lead anyone to thoughts of suicide.

From across the room came a muffled clang. Prr't-zevisti started, darting across to the upper corner by the door and dropping deeper into the grayworld. The door clanged again and swung open, revealing two Humans.

Prr't-zevisti was outside like a shot, easing past the stacks of metal and out into the open air. The sun was shining brilliantly out of a clear blue sky as he stretched out to the length of the anchorline. Maybe this time Dharanv and the family shrine would be within reach.

But no. The anchorpoint-sense wasn't there. Either he was being absurdly unlucky here, or else the piles of metal combined with the angles of Dorcas's rotational and orbital movement had managed to create a permanent shadow in Dharanv's direction. And unless he was willing this time to risk death...

He was back to his fsss cutting well before the Humans shut the door, sealing themselves and him inside the metal room. He drifted up into his corner again, hiding himself in the mist of the grayworld, a fresh shiver running through him. That was what bothered him about this, he suddenly realized. Not the fact that he was contemplating his own death, but that the decision was never really over and done with. Each and every time the Humans opened that door, the choice and the risk were again before him. The question of whether this time a slim chance at freedom was worth the probable risk of death.

He didn't want to die. A fatuous statement, really; he didn't suppose anyone ever really wanted to die. The First Eldership War of a thousand cyclics ago had been sparked by that reluctance: the common Zhirrzh demanding the same right to this postponement of death that their clan and family leaders were already enjoying. The desire to maintain and continue one's life was probably as close to a universal instinct as was possible to get.

Zhirrzh warriors had the knowledge of Eldership to comfort them through the dangers of war. Did the Human warriors, he wondered, have anything similar?

Across the room one of the Humans was saying something. Cautiously, Prr't-zevisti eased up toward the lightworld again. The Humans were standing beside the torn and barely recognizable body of the Zhirrzh warrior that had occupied the center of the room since shortly after Prr't-zevisti's cutting had been brought in. At first he'd assumed the mutilation had been the result of some barbaric attempt at torture, and had hated the Humans for it. Only as he'd watched them work had he grudgingly decided it was probably more likely a medical dissection on the body of a Zhirrzh who'd been raised to Eldership in battle.

But this fullarc they weren't working on it. Instead they were carefully maneuvering it into a long translucent bag they'd apparently brought in with them. They finished the job, using some kind of sealing strip to close the bag, and together lifted the body to a rolling table. With one of the Humans at either end, they pulled it across the room. The one in front opened the door, and they began to pull the table outside.

They were taking the body away. And when it was gone, they would be leaving Prr't-zevisti there.

All alone.

"No," Prr't-zevisti whispered to himself, a ripple of panic flickering through him with more intensity than he'd felt from any emotion in the seventy cyclics since being raised to Eldership. To be sealed in here alone—maybe forever—without even the Human's occasional visits to break up the monotony...

And in that beat he finally recognized the truth that he'd been trying to avoid ever since his capture. The truth that there were indeed some situations worse than facing the dark and frightening unknowns of death.

And it was time at last to make the final decision.

He eased to the top of the doorway and rose to the edge of the lightworld, nearly trembling as the panic turned to a grim resolve. All right. He would do it. As soon as the Humans had their burden all the way out, he would go. And this time he wouldn't come back. No matter what. The back wheels of the table dropped to the ground outside with a muffled thud; bracing himself, Prr't-zevisti moved around the corner—

And abruptly stopped. Off to one side, accompanied by two more Humans, was a second rolling table with another Zhirrzh body laid out on top of it. The first table cleared the doorway; without losing a beat, the other Humans began pulling the second table inside.

Prr't-zevisti retreated back to his corner again, the panic and resolve draining away and leaving only fatigue in their wake. Fatigue, and the painful recognition that he was indeed near the end of his rope here. If he didn't find something to keep his mind occupied, he was never going to make it through this.

But what could he do? Run through the memories of his life? No. He'd done that often enough during the dull times on Dharanv. Here it would only depress him. Try to replay favorite books or poems or movies? No; he didn't have nearly that good a memory for such details. Hold imaginary conversations with his friends and family and descendants? Hardly. Borderline insane, and any kind of insane was exactly what he didn't need right now.

Or should he finally quit all this whining and self-pity and get busy doing his job?

He looked down, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and frustration, as one of the Humans closed the door with its unusual muffled clank. Yes, he'd been a warrior once, serving both the Dhaa'rr clan and the Overclan Seating with honor and distinction. And warriors of the Dhaa'rr clan had never been known for neglecting their duty. But that had been a long time ago, back when he was a physical living in the lightworld. He was an Elder now, with all the limitations that came with it. What in the eighteen worlds could he do?

The Humans had moved to either side of the table, speaking quietly to each other as they laid out a neat row of surgical instruments. All right, Prr't-zevisti told himself. Maybe he couldn't fight like a traditional warrior. But he was in the middle of enemy territory, with the enemy apparently unaware that he was still there. That had to be good for something.

All he had to do was figure out what it was. And in the meantime he would set himself to becoming better acquainted with the Humans' language.

Moving to a spot beside the room's ceiling light source, Prr't-zevisti came up as close to the lightworld as he dared. He'd had a short but intense briefing on the Human language by the Elders from the Base World 12 group before the expeditionary force had hit Dorcas, plus a fifteen-fullarc course in the Etsijian language way back before he'd landed with the expeditionary forces in that war. Minimal fluency, equally minimal linguistic expertise, but he'd once been fairly good with languages. At least it gave him somewhere to start.

One of the Humans reached a hand to a small black box on one corner of the rolling table. "Doctor-Cavan-a," it said, its voice echoing faintly from the walls. "(Something) fifteenth, twenty-three-oh-three. Assist (something) by (something) (something). Prepare (something) for second (something) on (something) (something)."

Doctor-Cavan-a. A startlingly Zhirrzh-type name, even down to the -a female suffix. Coincidence? Undoubtedly. Still, it gave Prr't-zevisti his first solid verbal anchor to these aliens. And, paradoxically perhaps, it somehow made him feel not quite so lost and alone here. Maybe these aliens could be understood, after all.

Settling in, gazing down on the enemy as they began carving up another of his people, he began to listen.

6

For a while it had looked like Thrr-gilag's hopes of visiting his parents were going to evaporate without effect or trace. Shortly after the decision to send an expedition to the Mrachanis, the Speaker for Dhaa'rr had insisted—"strongly recommended" had been the words he'd used—that none of the study group be allowed even to leave the Overclan complex, let alone head off on a four-thousand-thoustride journey across Oaccanv. A fairly worthless recommendation, in Thrr-gilag's opinion, since none of the searchers would have much to do until the ships and supplies had been gathered together.

Still, the Overclan Prime had seemed inclined to listen to the Speaker's argument; and it was to Thrr-gilag's surprise, therefore, when he reversed himself at the last beat, stipulating only that Thrr-gilag be back at the complex at least a fullarc before the expedition was scheduled to leave.

Five hundred cyclics ago, when the Overclan Seating was first established, the trek from Unity City to the Kee'rr clan's ancestral territory would have been a serious and difficult journey. Two major mountain ranges lay between them, as well as the ancestral territories of forty to fifty other clans. Clans whose suspicion toward outsiders had always been high, who with the carnage and devastation of the Third Eldership War fresh in their minds would have been even less hospitable toward strangers than usual. The last thing any of them would have believed was that a time of peace was even possible, let alone near at hand.

But it had happened. They'd pulled it together, all of them: the clan and family leaders first, the common Zhirrzh afterward. The Third Eldership War had been Oaccanv's last, and within two hundred cyclics even minor border skirmishes had all but disappeared. It had taken a special breed of Zhirrzh, Thrr-gilag had always believed, to have created such a future from the ashes of war. A unique group of visionaries, drawn together by destiny and necessity alike, who had risen above the traditional patterns of the past and found a way to bring the rest of the Zhirrzh race along with them.

Gazing out the window of the suborbital transport, Thrr-gilag stared at the lush green landscape beneath them. And wondered if, even with those same visionaries available to advise them, any Zhirrzh leaders since that time would have been able to pull off such a miracle.

The transport put down at the landing field outside Citadel, once the main stronghold city of the Kee'rr and still the clan's political and cultural center. The Thrr-family territory and shrine were three hundred thoustrides farther on, perched on the edge of a line of hills between two small branches of the Amt'bri River. A supply transport was getting ready to leave Citadel for the region; with a little fancy wordwork and judicious waving of his Overclan-complex pass, Thrr-gilag was able to talk himself aboard. Ten hunbeats later they were in the air.

"Heading home, eh?" the pilot commented as he brought the transport to its cruising altitude and leveled off. He was a middle-aged Zhirrzh, with age wrinkles around his eyes and an interesting crack-scar on his mouth. His tunic threads placed him as a member of the Hgg, the same family the current Speaker for Kee'rr belonged to. "Getting out of the fast pace for a little while, eh?

"A very little while," Thrr-gilag told him. "I have to be back in Unity City in a few fullarcs."

"Ah," the pilot said, throwing him a speculative look. "I hear the Overclan Seating's going crazy back there over this Human-Conqueror thing. You involved with any of that?"

"The whole Zhirrzh race is involved with it," Thrr-gilag said, marveling yet again at the sheer speed of the Elder information network. Less than a single fullarc since the Overclan Prime had coined the term Human-Conqueror, and here was a pilot on a minor supply run four thousand thoustrides away already using it.

"Involved right up to our tonguetips, from what I've heard," the pilot agreed darkly. "My grandfather was telling me about it last fullarc. Vicious warriors, nasty weapons, plus lots of Elderdeath stuff they're not shy about using. You know anything about that?"

"I've heard some of those same rumors," Thrr-gilag said evasively, wishing he knew exactly how much information the Overclan Seating had officially released to the general public. The last thing he wanted to do was toss more rumors into the general mix, especially considering the trouble he was already in. "Was your grandfather with one of the survey ships?"

"No, but he got it pretty straight," the pilot said. "One of his old co-workers has a friend who'd talked directly to the first cousin of an old warrior friend of one of the Elders on the mission."

"Sounds pretty straight, all right," Thrr-gilag conceded. If the Elders were talking, it was all over the eighteen worlds by now, official release or not. "I wouldn't panic just yet, though. We've got some pretty good weaponry, too, you know."

"I suppose," the pilot said. "I just hope we haven't sliced off more than we can eat here. This isn't just three planets' worth of Chig this time, you know."

"The war wasn't exactly our idea," Thrr-gilag reminded him, a twinge of almost-guilt tugging at him. Pheylan Cavanagh's insistence that the Humans hadn't started it... "Don't forget, they fired first."

"Yeah, that's what they say," the pilot said doubtfully. "Course, they might say that anyway."

"I suppose that's possible," Thrr-gilag murmured, turning to look out the window and putting his own doubts resolutely out of his mind. In a couple of tentharcs, with a little good luck, he'd know the truth about that battle.

The Kee'rr clan's ancestral territory extended across most of the fertile Kee'miss'lo River valley, from the river delta nearly to its source in the Phmm'taa Marshes. With few if any natural barriers to protect their land against outside aggression, the Kee'rr clan had been forced by necessity to become the dominant military power in the region. Political power had inevitably followed, bringing the Kee'rr up against neighboring clans in the ever-shifting patterns of alliance and betrayal and conflict that had formed the backdrop to much of Zhirrzh history. The political clashes had necessitated still more military might, which had created more political clashes, and so on.

Most of the clan and family leaders from that age had perished when their fsss organs had been destroyed in the Second and Third Eldership Wars. Thrr-gilag had often wondered what they would have thought of the changes their successors had created.

He smiled sourly to himself, thinking back to the passengers on that suborbital transport. Members of fifty different clans, traveling freely and without restriction to and from Kee'rr territory. No, the old clan leaders wouldn't have liked this new Oaccanv at all. They probably would have reacted rather violently to the whole idea, in fact.

Was that the same social structure the Humans were now living under? Had their attack on the Zhirrzh been a reflection of the same single-minded desire for territory that had driven the Zhirrzh themselves during Oaccanv's feudal period?

"Where exactly you heading this fullarc?" the pilot asked into his musings.

"To the family shrine, to see my father," Thrr-gilag told him, turning back around. "Then out to Reeds Village to visit my mother."

"Reeds Village?" the pilot echoed, frowning at Thrr-gilag. "That's way over in, what, Frr family territory?"

"That's right," Thrr-gilag said.

There was a short pause, with the other clearly waiting for further explanation. But Thrr-gilag remained silent, and after a few beats the pilot turned back to his controls with a shrug. "All right. Well. I'll go ahead and drop you off at the Thrr shrine, then."

"You don't have to do that," Thrr-gilag said. "I can take the rail over from Cliffside Dales."

"It's no problem," the pilot insisted. "There's a landing field just outside the predator fence gate—I'll put you down there, and you can walk right in. At least it'll save you the rail trip one direction."

"I appreciate the offer," Thrr-gilag said. "But you have a schedule to meet, and I can't let you—"

"Yes, you can," the other said firmly. "Like you said, we're all in this together. I served my stint with the Etsijian encirclement force when I was younger; I want to do my bit on this one, too."

It was a little under half a thoustride from the predator-fence gate to the Thrr-family shrine itself, its towering shape partially blocked by the darker bulks of the twin protector domes that sat on either side of the ceramic-pebbled path ten strides in front of it. Twenty or more Elders popped into view at one point or another as Thrr-gilag walked toward it, looking at the visitor with expressions ranging from hopefulness to suspicion to simple curiosity. One or two of them—probably members of his branch of the family, though Thrr-gilag didn't recognize them offhand—greeted him by name before leaving. The rest simply peered at his face, decided he wasn't there to visit them, and vanished.

He was perhaps five strides from the domes when the one on the left slid open a door and a tall Zhirrzh carrying a laser rifle stepped into view. "Stand fast," he said, "and speak your name."

"I obey the Protector of Thrr Elders," Thrr-gilag gave the ritual response, stopping beside the rack of kavra fruit that stood beside the path. "I am Thrr-gilag; Kee'rr."

"Who will prove your goodwill and intentions?"

"I will," Thrr-gilag said, taking one of the kavra and slicing it with his tongue. The ancient ceremony of trust, with the equally ancient exception: the protector of the shrine did not reciprocate.

"And who will prove your right to approach?"

"My father will," Thrr-gilag said, dropping the kavra into the disposal container beneath the rack. Like much of Zhirrzh tradition, this whole shrine routine had come under attack lately, its mostly youthful critics ridiculing it as a wasteful and meaningless throwback to Oaccanv's violent history. Personally, Thrr-gilag had always found a certain sense of comfort and security in the ritual. "Thrr-rokik—sorry," he interrupted himself. His father was an Elder now, with the Elder suffix added to his family name. "Thrr't-rokik; Kee'rr."

A flicker of a smile crossed the protector's face. It was probably a mistake he heard all the time. "Advance, Thrr-gilag," he said, lifting the muzzle of his rifle to point to the sky. "And welcome. It's good to see you again."

"It's good to be back, Thrr-tulkoj," Thrr-gilag said, stepping up to him and gripping his arm. "I do seem to get home less and less frequently these fullarcs."

"You can't blame anyone but yourself for that one," Thrr-tulkoj pointed out, mock-seriously. "You pick a career that requires you to travel, and this is what happens."

"Now, let's not start that all over again," Thrr-gilag said, mock-warningly. The whole question of career choices had been the subject of many a long and earnest discussion when he and Thrr-tulkoj had been growing up. Over the cyclics it had evolved into something of a personal joke between them. "Anyway, it's not the travel so much as the long delays at the far end."

"Yes, well, I wouldn't know much about that," Thrr-tulkoj said. "I don't think I've gone outside Kee'rr territory three times in the past two cyclics."

"You're not missing much," Thrr-gilag assured him. "There have been plenty of times sitting in a field shelter waiting for an alien storm to blow over when I wished I'd chosen a protector's job instead."

"You'd never have made it," Thrr-tulkoj said decisively. "You're too good at thinking. And too rotten at shooting."

"Thank you so very much." Thrr-gilag looked over his friend's shoulder at the shrine. "How's he doing?" he asked quietly.

"Not too bad, really," Thrr-tulkoj said. "It's a shock, of course, for almost everyone. Takes a lot of getting used to, and of course he's only been at it for half a cyclic. But with an illness, at least, he was more or less prepared for the change. It's the ones who get unexpectedly raised to Eldership in sudden accidents who seem to have the hardest time of it."

"Yes," Thrr-gilag murmured, an edge of guilt prodding him. He really should have spent more time with his parents—should have made the time, no matter what the hectic schedule of his career. His brother, Thrr-mezaz, had certainly managed it, despite the responsibilities and demands that came with being a warrior. "How's my mother handling it?"

"Well, that's a different story entirely," Thrr-tulkoj said, his tongue flicking oddly. "But I think you'd better hear that from your father."

Thrr-gilag's tail twitched. So he'd been right: there had indeed been something behind Thrr-mezaz's words in that last conversation. "I see. Well, I'd better go call him, then."

"Stop back before you leave," Thrr-tulkoj invited, stepping back into the shelter of the dome. "Maybe we can find time to get caught up on things before you head off-planet again."

"We can certainly try," Thrr-gilag agreed. "I can't make any promises, though—my schedule's going to be pretty tight."

"Sad," Thrr-tulkoj said, flicking his tongue in mock-disappointment. "You young people growing up and leaving home..."

"Thank you, grandfather, and I'll see you later," Thrr-gilag said dryly, stepping between the domes and walking toward the shrine. Thrr-tulkoj, of course, would be seeing Thrr-gilag the whole time if he wanted to, as would whoever was playing backstop in the other dome. One of the best-kept secrets about shrine-defender domes was that, once the door was closed, they became perfectly transparent from the inside.

Easy to see through, and equally easy to fire through. Criticism of tradition there might be out there, but Elders didn't take many chances with the defense of their fsss organs.

Up close, a family shrine was even more impressive than it was at a distance. Nearly nine strides tall—three times taller than the smaller cutting pyramid they'd had on Base World 12—it was dotted with upwards of forty thousand niches. Thrr-gilag had no idea which of them was his father's, but it really didn't matter. Right up beside the shrine like this, all the Elders would be able to hear his voice, carried directly to them through their fsss organs. "Thrr't-rokik?" he called. "It's Thrr-gilag."

There was a flicker, and his father was there in front of him. "Hello, my son," he said, his voice faint but with its well-remembered warmth. "It's good to see you."

"And you, my father," Thrr-gilag said, the remnants of his guilt washing away in a sudden surge of emotion. His father; and yet, not really his father. His father as fragile spirit, a voice and faint image of what he'd once been, his physical body long since consigned to the fire.

His father as Elder.

Thrr-tulkoj had been right. This was going to take a lot of getting used to.

"You're looking well," Thrr't-rokik said. "I'd heard you were on Oaccanv; I'd rather expected you would get in touch with me sooner."

"I'm sorry," Thrr-gilag said. "I've been rather busy."

"So I hear." His father eyed him closely. "I also hear that not all has been going well for you."

"No." Thrr-gilag glanced up at the shrine towering above him. "That was one of the things I wanted to discuss with you."

"Well, as it happens, I'm free for the postmidarc," Thrr't-rokik said with a smile. "Shall we walk over to the bluff overview?"

To the bluff, and away from the unavoidable eavesdropping that would take place beside the shrine itself. "Certainly," Thrr-gilag said, turning and heading across the grass.

The overview was relatively modest, as such things went: a slight rise leading up to the predator fence, with the land then dropping off steeply into a rocky bluff just outside the fence. Past the edge of the bluff Thrr-gilag could see one of the minor tributaries of the Amt'bri River as it wended its casual way through the wooded plain below. Beyond the woods, some of the higher towers of the Hlim-family city of Hlimni's Glen were visible.

"The Thrr leaders are talking again about putting up a new shrine," Thrr't-rokik commented. "I've been trying to talk them into locating it down there in the woods, close enough that we could hear the river."

"They'll never do it," Thrr-gilag said. "Not that close to a river. Too much risk of flood damage."

Thrr't-rokik sniffed. "Flood damage. The Amt'bri hasn't flooded in probably two hundred cyclics. But you're right, too many people would be afraid. Sometimes I think Elders are the most timid creatures in existence."

"You can't really blame them," Thrr-gilag shrugged. "When you're that close to the unknowns of death, I suppose it's natural to try to hold on as tightly as you can."

"Perhaps," Thrr't-rokik sighed. "Personally, I think that being terrified of taking the most minuscule of chances is no way to live."

Thrr-gilag looked off across the valley. "We're certainly taking chances now," he said. "Every one of us."

"Yes," Thrr't-rokik agreed quietly. "The Human-Conquerors. You've seen them up close, Thrr-gilag. What do you think?"

"Of the Humans, or of our chances against them?"

"Either. Both."

Thrr-gilag pressed his tongue against the top of his mouth. "I don't know, Father. I really don't. They're fearsome and dangerous enemies—there's no doubt about that. But at the same time there are things about them that don't seem to fit together. Large inconsistencies in their aggressiveness level, for one thing."

"They're aliens, after all," Thrr't-rokik reminded him. "Their reasons for doing things don't have to be the same as ours."

"True," Thrr-gilag said. "But there's one other possibility: that the Humans aren't the vicious warmongers we've been led to believe."

Thrr't-rokik frowned. "What are you talking about? They attacked first."

Thrr-gilag turned again to look down at the river. "Unless the Overclan Seating and Warrior Command were wrong about that."

He could feel his father's gaze on him. "You mean mistaken?"

"Or just wrong."

For a long beat the rustling of the trees below was the only sound. Thrr-gilag kept his eyes on the valley and river, not daring to see what his father's expression might be. "You realize what you're saying," Thrr't-rokik said at last. "You're accusing the Overclan Seating of deliberately starting a war. And of then lying to the Zhirrzh people about it."

"I know," Thrr-gilag said. "Are you saying our leaders are incapable of lying?"

Thrr't-rokik snorted. "Hardly. Still, people generally lie for specific purposes. For personal gain, or to evade punishment or other trouble. What motivation would the Overclan Seating have to lie about a Human-Conqueror attack?"

"I don't know," Thrr-gilag said. "But I also can't simply dismiss the eye-witness testimony of the Human Pheylan Cavanagh. And he was apparently convinced that the Zhirrzh ships fired first."

Thrr't-rokik snorted. "You accuse your own leaders of lying yet assume a vicious would-be conqueror would tell you the truth?"

"I know it seems backward," Thrr-gilag conceded. "But he hung strongly to his story the whole time he was our prisoner. Longer than I would expect someone who knows he is lying would do."

For another few beats Thrr't-rokik was silent. "You're not just telling me all this to hear my opinions on the subject. What is it you want?"

Thrr-gilag braced himself. "Two of those survey ships were Kee'rr. I was hoping you could arrange for me to talk to one of the Elders who was aboard."

"I was afraid that was it," Thrr't-rokik said heavily. "Do you have any idea of the penalties involved with that sort of unauthorized communication?"

"I'm willing to take the risk," Thrr-gilag said.

"I wasn't thinking of your risk," Thrr't-rokik retorted icily. "I was thinking of the other Elder's. If Warrior Command caught him talking privately about sensitive warrior matters, they could summarily take his communicator position away from him. Are you willing to have that on your conscience?"

"Not really," Thrr-gilag said, feeling ashamed that that aspect hadn't even occurred to him. With fsss-cutting techniques had come an exponential explosion in the number of jobs available for Elders, everything from the simple participation in interstellar communication pathways to the more demanding professional roles of planetary explorer or searcher assistant. But such jobs still numbered only in the low billions; and with well over three hundred billion Elders clamoring for some way to fill their time, the permanent loss of a job was not a threat to be taken lightly. "I'm sorry. I should have thought about that."

There was another pause. "This is very important to you, isn't it, my son?" Thrr't-rokik asked, his voice gentle again.

"Yes," Thrr-gilag said. "And worth a fair amount of risk. But for me, not for someone else."

Thrr't-rokik sighed, a whisper against the background breezes. "Wait here. I'll see what I can do."

He vanished. Thrr-gilag leaned against the predator fence, gazing out again at the woods and river. The woods, the river, and the never-ending problem of what to do with the ever-growing number of Elders.

On one side it could be seen as a simple problem of storage. The shrine towering behind him had enough niches for forty thousand fsss organs, and it had taken the Thrr family nearly two hundred cyclics to fill it to capacity. Another shrine, wherever it was put up, would probably do them for two centuries more.

But on the other side it was an incredibly complex issue, a problem that sliced through to the very soul of Zhirrzh culture. In generations past all Zhirrzh had lived comfortably together, with Elders moving freely through the homes and lives of their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. For many of the Elders that was the way it had always been and thus the way it should continue to be.

But nothing ever remained the same, not even with the weight of a thousand cyclics of tradition bearing down on it. And as the basic underlying conception of Zhirrzh society was changing, so too was the view of the Elders' role in it.

There was a flicker and Thrr't-rokik was back, another Elder at his side. "This is my son, Searcher Thrr-gilag," Thrr't-rokik said, gesturing to Thrr-gilag with his tongue. "He was one of the alien-research group studying the Human-Conqueror prisoner. This"—he gestured to his companion—"is Bvee't-hibbin, a distant cousin of your mother's line. He's one of the communicators aboard the Far Searcher."

Thrr-gilag felt his tail speed up. One of the four survey ships that had been in that first contact with the Humans. "Honored to meet you," he said.

"Yes," Bvee't-hibbin said, running an obviously critical eye over Thrr-gilag. "So you're the one. Perhaps you don't care, Searcher, but I consider you personally responsible for the fact that one of my great-great-nephews has arrived prematurely at the family shrine."

"Yes, I know," Thrr-gilag said, wincing again with painful memory of his failure. "Seven others were also raised to Eldership in the Humans' attack."

"Did you know as well that he is still without sanity?" Bvee't-hibbin demanded. "Seven fullarcs since his arrival, and he's still twisted in shock. Seven fullarcs; and no one will predict for his family when he'll be recovered."

"You can hardly blame Thrr-gilag for that," Thrr't-rokik put in gently. "Base World Twelve is two hundred fifty light-cyclics from Oaccanv. Drawn from such a distance, it was inevitable that his initial anchoring would be severely traumatic. It's the price we pay for our expansion to the stars."

The anger drained from Bvee't-hibbin's face, leaving only weariness behind. "Perhaps it's too high a price, Thrr't-rokik," he said with a whisper of a sigh. "Perhaps some fullarc we'll stretch too far and condemn new Elders to a madness that will never end."

"Perhaps," Thrr't-rokik said. "But that limit is still well beyond our current knowledge. If it exists at all. For myself, I have a great faith in the strength and resilience of the Zhirrzh spirit."

"Perhaps." Bvee't-hibbin seemed to draw himself together again. "I'm told you have questions, Searcher Thrr-gilag. What is it you wish to know that only I can tell you?"

"I spent a great deal of time with the Human prisoner, Communicator," Thrr-gilag said. "It was his contention that the Zhirrzh ships, not his, were the aggressors at the battle."

Bvee't-hibbin snorted. "And you believe an alien instead of your own leaders?"

"I want to make sure no mistake has been made," Thrr-gilag countered.

"Then listen and believe, Searcher Thrr-gilag," Bvee't-hibbin said bluntly. "I was there... and the Human-Conquerors most certainly attacked first."

"You're sure of that?" Thrr't-rokik asked.

"When a warcraft sweeps focused Elderdeath weapons across your fsss cutting, it can hardly be mistaken for anything else," Bvee't-hibbin snapped. "And you'd both better hope you never have to feel that kind of pain yourselves."

His gaze drifted away. "It never stopped," he said, his voice almost too soft to hear. "Never. Their warcraft blanketed the whole region with the pain, their explosive missiles drove focused cones of it ahead of them—even after they were defeated and their warcraft burned to dust, they didn't let up the attack."

He looked up out of the memories at Thrr-gilag. "All except your prisoner. Alone of all of them he voluntarily shut off his Elderdeath weapon. That was what caught our commanders' notice in the first place. That, along with the fact that he was trying to move his spacecraft out of the battle region. Our ship commanders interpreted that as evidence of below-average aggression and decided to take him for further study."

His mouth twisted. "You saw how well that decision turned out."

Thrr-gilag nodded, a bitter taste beneath his tongue. So that was that. Pheylan Cavanagh had indeed known about the Elderdeath weapons—obviously, since he'd shut his off. And he'd been lying about it the whole time. "I see," he murmured.

"Was there anything else?" Bvee't-hibbin asked.

"No," Thrr-gilag said. Pheylan Cavanagh had lied to him. Somehow he still couldn't believe it. "Thank you, Bvee't-hibbin. I and my family are in your debt and your family's."

"I wouldn't commit your family to too much if I were you," Bvee't-hibbin suggested, the first hint of humor peeking through his stiff manner. "Particularly not with the trouble you're in right now. I wish you good luck, though. If only for the honor of the Kee'rr."

"Thank you," Thrr-gilag said dryly. "I'll do my best not to let the Kee'rr down."

"Farewell." Bvee't-hibbin nodded and vanished.

"Does that set your fears at rest?" Thrr't-rokik asked.

"I suppose," Thrr-gilag said reluctantly. "Now if I could just answer the question of whether or not the Humans have Elders of their own."

"Yes, I heard about the stir you caused in the Overclan Seating with that suggestion," Thrr't-rokik said. "Do you really believe that might be true, or were you just trying to carve a slice out of their complacence?"

"I certainly wasn't trying to slice anything," Thrr-gilag said. "Whether there's any truth to it, I really don't know."

"Their use of Elderdeath weapons doesn't necessarily mean anything," his father pointed out. "All the alien races the Zhirrzh have encountered have attacked us that same way, and yet none of them have had Elders."

"I know," Thrr-gilag said. "But there's more. The fact that they used the Elderdeath weapons directly against the study group's pyramid on Study World Eighteen, for example, implies they knew what they were doing. Plus that fsss-sized incision in the Human prisoner's lower torso, which has yet to be explained. That was one of the reasons I didn't want him killed during his escape attempt, by the way. If they have Elders, that would merely have sent him back home."

"Yes," Thrr't-rokik said thoughtfully. "And of course there was the theft of Prr't-zevisti's fsss cutting from the Dorcas beachhead."

Thrr-gilag felt his tail twitch. "So that one's gotten around, too."

"You weren't expecting it to?" his father countered. "That was not a wise thing for you to talk about, Thrr-gilag."

"I know," Thrr-gilag sighed. "Certain members of the Overclan Seating were none too happy about it, either."

"More unhappy than you know," Thrr't-rokik said darkly. "I'm starting to hear rumors that the leaders and Elders of the Dhaa'rr are beginning to reconsider their approval of your bond-engagement to Klnn-dawan-a."

Thrr-gilag stared at him, his midlight pupils contracting to slits. "They can't do that," he protested. "They've already agreed to it."

"I know," Thrr't-rokik said. "But between your trouble on Base World Twelve and your brother Thrr-mezaz's role in the loss of Prr't-zevisti, the Dhaa'rr are furious with the whole Thrr family. And considering how unenthusiastic most of the Elders were about allowing a Dhaa'rr and Kee'rr to bond in the first place..." He flicked his tongue in a negative.

Thrr-gilag pressed his tongue hard against the inside of his mouth. He'd suspected from the start that it was his mishandling of things that had kept the Dhaa'rr leaders from assigning Klnn-dawan-a to the Mrachani study group, settling on the vastly less competent Gll-borgiv instead. But this was a blow he had somehow never anticipated. "Has there been any official action yet?" he asked.

"Not that I've heard of," Thrr't-rokik said. "I take it you're going to try to head it off?"

"You take it right," Thrr-gilag said, the shock of betrayal beginning to give way to an icy anger. He and Klnn-dawan-a had had to fight uphill once already against the Elders—from both their clans—and these stupid antiquated prejudices against interclan bonding. Now, it seemed, they were going to have to do it all over again. "I have to get in touch with Klnn-dawan-a right away. Let her know what's going on."

"I suggest you speak with her in person," Thrr't-rokik warned. "If the Dhaa'rr Elders find out you know, they're likely to push the clan leaders all the harder."

"Yes, I know," Thrr-gilag said. "The problem is, she's out on Gree with a group studying the Chig. That's a two-fullarc round trip right there."

"Is your timing that tight?"

"It's reasonably tight, yes," Thrr-gilag said. "But it's what I've got, and I'll just have to make do." He hesitated. "You haven't said what the response of Klnn-dawan-a's immediate family has been."

"I haven't heard anything one way or the other about them," Thrr't-rokik said. "But unless you hear otherwise, I'd suggest you assume they're still behind you. Klnn-dawan-a's family are good people." He paused. "And of course it goes without saying that your own immediate family will support you."

"Thank you," Thrr-gilag said. "That helps."

"It supplies some emotional support, at any rate," his father said. "I only wish one of our two families had more political pull with our respective clans. A lifetime of work in ceramics design does not exactly heap up huge piles of favors. Especially with—"

He broke off, flicking his tongue in an oddly impatient gesture. "You'd better get moving if you're going to make it to Gree and back," he said, his voice suddenly brisk. "If you have time, stop back and see me before you go off to whatever the Overclan Seating has scheduled next for you. I presume you know that you don't have to come all the way out here to speak with me, by the way. As long as you're within a hundred thoustrides of the shrine, you can call Thrr-tulkoj or one of the other protectors on the direct-link and they can send me to wherever you are."

"I know," Thrr-gilag assured him. "And one way or the other, I promise I'll talk to you after I get back from Gree."

"Good. In the meantime I have friends with access to Unity City. I'll see what other information I can dig up."

"All right," Thrr-gilag said. "You know, you really ought to consider having a cutting taken. You could get yourself a niche in a pyramid near Unity City and watch all this political stuff directly instead of having to sift through rumors."

Again his father's tongue flicked oddly. "No, I don't think so," he said. "Not now. Tell me, are you going to see your mother before you go?"

"I'd planned to," Thrr-gilag said, frowning at the abrupt change of topic. "Thrr-mezaz told me she'd moved out to Reeds Village?"

"Yes," Thrr't-rokik said. "About thirty fullarcs ago. You were out on Study World Fifteen during the preparations; and then this whole Human-Conqueror thing came up, and you were rushed out to Base World Twelve."

"Yes, I've been busy," Thrr-gilag said, studying his father's transparent face. "Hardly out of touch, though. What is it you and Thrr-mezaz aren't telling me?"

Thrr't-rokik looked away. "Perhaps it would be best if you spoke with her for yourself," he said. "If you have time, that is. This matter with Klnn-dawan-a should take precedence."

"My family takes precedence," Thrr-gilag told him firmly. "I'll make the time."

It was only a five-hunbeat walk to the rail stop near the shrine. Three cars were waiting there on the siding; climbing into the first, Thrr-gilag fed in his value number and keyed for the main nexus at Cliffside Dales. The car beeped its acceptance and eased onto the main rail, and they were off.

There was a flicker, and an Elder appeared in front of him. "You are Thrr-gilag; Kee'rr?" he asked.

"Yes," Thrr-gilag said.

"I was told you wanted information on space-flight schedules," the Elder said briskly. "When, and to where?"

"As soon as possible," Thrr-gilag said, wondering what had taken the travel communicator so long to get out there to him. He'd put in the request with Thrr-tulkoj before leaving the shrine. "Destination is the planet Gree."

"Gree?" The Elder seemed taken aback. "That's a Chig world."

"There are indeed large numbers of Chig on it," Thrr-gilag agreed. "Along with a few hundred Zhirrzh in about fifty study groups."

The Elder sniffed. "The proper study of Zhirrzh is Zhirrzh," he said primly. "What anyone thinks they're going to find on a planet full of aliens I'll never know."

"I'm sure you won't," Thrr-gilag said, not trying overly hard to hide his disgust. With Human forces gathering against the Zhirrzh like storm clouds over a field of grain, it should be blindingly obvious that the ability to understand alien cultures was going to be of critical importance in the fullarcs ahead. Obviously, there were still Zhirrzh too stupid to understand that. "Just check the schedule for me, please."

The Elder sniffed again and was gone. Thrr-gilag turned back to the window, running the numbers through his mind. One fullarc each way to Gree; six and a half until he needed to check in again with Nzz-oonaz and the rest of the Mrachani study group. That left barely four and a half fullarcs to try to get all this straightened out.

He gazed at the scenery going past outside, a twinge of guilt tugging at him. He really ought to call the Overclan before he headed off-world this way. The Overclan, or at the very least Nzz-oonaz. Let someone in authority know where he was going and what he was doing.

But if he did that, Speaker Cvv-panav would almost certainly find out about it. And he'd either summarily cancel Thrr-gilag's trip or else push the Dhaa'rr clan leaders to move even more quickly on their repudiation of his bond-engagement to Klnn-dawan-a. Or both.

Besides, there was no reason why anyone in Unity City would need him for the next few fullarcs. The Mrachani bodies weren't going to need any more examination, and Nzz-oonaz surely had the study group's end of the upcoming voyage under control. And if for some reason he needed help, Gll-borgiv and the Dhaa'rr would be more than happy to assist.

And anyway, Thrr-gilag would be back well before the time he'd been told to return. No, best just to keep it quiet.

With a flicker the Elder was back. "A warrior supply flight leaves for the Gree encirclement forces in seven tentharcs," he growled. "It'll be lifting from the warrior field at Pathgate; flight time approximately nine tentharcs. Do you wish a place reserved for you?"

"Please," Thrr-gilag said, holding out his identification card and, for good measure, his Overclan-complex pass.

"Um," the Elder said, peering at the cards. "The reservation will be made in your name. Payment is due one tentharc before departure."

"I understand," Thrr-gilag said. A hundred cyclics ago, right after the first credit/debit system had been set up, Elders had carried value numbers directly between buyers and sellers. But as the system had expanded, someone had belatedly realized that Elders who could handle whole sections of a conversation should have no trouble at all memorizing a few strings of numbers. A handful of dishonest Elders had been caught proving it—to the tune of nearly half a million in fraudulent purchases and fund transfers—and that had been that. "Thank you."

The Elder sniffed one last time and was gone. "You're welcome," Thrr-gilag murmured, settling tiredly back against the railcar couch. Seven tentharcs before lift. Plenty of time to get to Reeds Village first and see his mother.

And to find out what was going on out there that neither his father nor his brother would tell him about.

He sighed. It was unfair. It really was. This looming war against the Humans was enough trouble for anyone to have to handle. To throw in family and personal crises on top of it was asking far too much.

But the crises were there, and they were on his shoulders, and he would just have to deal with them as best he could. Settling back on his couch, he closed his eyes against the light filtering through the postmidarc clouds and tried to get some sleep.

7

The tissue analyzer beeped notice that it had finished its work, the gentle tone almost lost amid the continual snap-flapping of the shelter walls. Laying down her stylus, Klnn-dawan-a got up from her couch and headed over to the analyzer, eying the shaking walls warily as she walked. The wind outside had been increasing steadily for nearly half a tentharc now, with no sign that it was planning to modulate anytime soon. If the storm didn't pass in another tentharc or two, they could say farewell to the latearc's sampling run.

"Getting pretty noisy out there," her assistant Bkar-otpo commented from across the shelter, his tone sounding a little uneasy. "How strong do these winds get, anyway?"

"Don't worry, we'll be all right," Klnn-dawan-a told him, shutting the analyzer back to standby and keying for a datalist. "These shelters can handle anything Gree's likely to throw at us. At least this time of cyclic."

"Yes, I've heard stories about those equinox storms," Bkar-otpo said. "You ever been in one of those?"

"A couple of times," Klnn-dawan-a said. The datalist came up, and she ran a quick eye over the numbers. Promising; definitely promising. Maybe this time they'd finally hit the proper window for the genetic-ring transmutation. "I wouldn't want to be in a field shelter during one, but a perm building stands up to them just fine."

"It must still be pretty impressive—"

"It's wonderful and exhilarating both," she interrupted gently, stepping over to him and holding out the datalist. "File this into the recorder, would you? And then run up a comparison between it and the other samplings."

"I obey, Searcher," he said briskly, all business now as he took the datalist and pulled his couch up to the recorder. "Will we be taking another set of samplings this latearc?"

"Assuming the wind dies down, yes."

"I've been wondering about that," Bkar-otpo said doubtfully. "Even at the best of times, Chigin whelps can be pretty unpredictable. No telling what this storm will do to their dispositions."

"We'll be fine," Klnn-dawan-a assured him, focusing her attention again on the wind. Was it marginally less violent than it had been a few hunbeats ago? Possibly. "I'm going to take a quick look outside, see if I can spot the edge of the storm."

"You want me to go with you?" Bkar-otpo asked, half standing up.

"No, I'll be fine," she said. "I won't be going very far."

"I could call an Elder to go with you," he persisted, his hand hovering near the signaler control.

"I'll be fine," she said firmly. "You just get busy with that comparison, all right?"

He seemed to sigh. "I obey, Searcher," he said again, and turned reluctantly back to the recorder.

Klnn-dawan-a stepped to the shelter door and began unfastening the catches, mentally shaking her head and wondering yet again what exactly she was going to do about Bkar-otpo. Fresh out of school, studious and earnest as all get out, he was the totally stereotypical searcher assistant.

With, unfortunately, what looked like the beginnings of a strong crush on her.

She was holding on to the grips tightly as the door came open, but even so, the wind nearly ripped it out of her hands. Maneuvering out into the blast, she sealed the door behind her. Gree's sun was long gone below the horizon, and for a beat she stayed where she was beside the shelter as her lowlight pupils widened to compensate for the darkness. A few beats later, with the rocky ground now adequately visible, she headed off between the cluster of wind-buffeted shelters toward the edge of the shallow hollow the group had set up in.

The simplest thing to do, of course, would be to arrange for Bkar-otpo to be transferred to one of the other three Dhaa'rr study groups on Gree. It would give him time to forget her and maybe latch on to someone who wasn't ten cyclics older than he was and already bond-engaged. If she did it properly, chances were good that he'd never even guess that she'd been behind the transfer.

The problem was, he might. And if her own experiences when she was nineteen were anything to go by, that would be devastating to him. Klnn-dawan-a had always considered herself a rather plain sort of person when she was growing up: average in appearance and personality, considerably less than average in conversational ability and family status. Her intellect had been sharp enough, certainly, but she'd never found that to have much in the way of appeal to the people around her. It wasn't until she'd discovered her love of alien studies and the close-knit group of people who felt likewise that she'd really begun to feel at home. By the time her friendship with Thrr-gilag had begun to grow into something stronger, she'd been strong enough herself to take the chance of getting hurt.

Bkar-otpo, unfortunately, wasn't anywhere near that stage yet. Nevertheless, it was clear that she was going to have to do something, and soon. The bond-engagement threads she always wore weren't deterring him in the slightest; neither were her attempts to work Thrr-gilag's name into the conversation every chance she got. Apparently, she was just going to have to come out point-blank with it.

And then, maybe, she'd get him transferred.

She'd reached the edge of the hollow now and the predator fence that protected the encampment. The wind was stronger here, with a tangle of eddies and crosscurrents that seemed determined to knock her off her feet. Bracing herself against a shoulder-high rock, she put her hands up to protect her eyes and peered out across the sky.

Good luck was with them. The cloud formations that indicated the edge of the windstorm were clearly visible between the rolling foothills directly ahead and the taller mountains rising beyond them. Ten hunbeats—twenty at the most—and the winds should begin settling down. Should be no problem for her and Bkar-otpo to get out to the Za Mingchma farm and take their tissue samples on schedule.

She shifted her position against the rock, letting her gaze drop to the foothills themselves. The lights of perhaps fifty Chigin houses were visible through the tight mesh of the predator fence, the homes scattered unevenly up and down the slopes of the hills and even part of the way up the sheer face of the mountain behind. Farm families, most of them, working hard to coerce a living from the thin soil and thin air up here. Aloof to the Zhirrzh study group for the most part, but at least not openly hostile the way the valley and city residents always seemed to be.

Klnn-dawan-a frowned, her gaze pausing on one of the plots of land. The fence surrounding the whelp enclosure looked wrong, somehow. She stared hard at it, feeling her lowlight pupils widening to full enlargement. The landscape brightened slightly....

There it was: a thick tree branch, apparently blown there by the wind, leaning against the middle of the enclosure fence on one side and holding it partially pinned to the ground.

She fumbled out her caller from the survival pack fastened around her waist, her view of the landscape ahead changing again as her darklight pupils expanded to pull in the heat radiance that surrounded all homoiothermal creatures. The tips of the houses' chimneys and the smoke pouring from them took on a gentle glow; larger, more diffuse images appeared inside the enclosures of the nearest yards: whelps, huddled together against the wind or else prowling their circuits in mindless defiance of the elements.

In the enclosure with the downed fence there was nothing.

"Terrific," Klnn-dawan-a muttered under her breath, half turning to aim the caller at the top of the white cutting pyramid in the center of the Zhirrzh encampment. The brilliant darklight beam lanced out, and over the wind she faintly heard the clang as the alarm mounted to the pyramid's top went off in response. She turned back around again, peering out into the darkness—

An Elder appeared in front of her. "Yes, Searcher?"

"The fence at the Ca Chagba farm has been breached," she shouted over the wind. "The whelps have gotten out. I'm going to go look for them. Tell Director Prr-eddsi, and ask him to send someone to help me."

"Not a good idea, Searcher," the Elder shouted back. "Especially not in a storm like this. They could get vicious."

"I'll be all right," Klnn-dawan-a assured him. "I've been to the Ca Chagba farm several times—the whelps know me as well as they know any Zhirrzh. I don't think they'll bother me."

"They're not going to be able to smell you in this wind," the Elder objected. "It's too big a risk."

"It's not that big a risk," Klnn-dawan-a said firmly. "Regardless, I'm taking it. Oh, and tell Prr-eddsi he should send someone to alert the Ca Chagba family, too. There's a good chance they don't even know their whelps are missing. Go on, get going."

"I obey, Searcher," the Elder said reluctantly. "Don't go far; I'll have an escort for you in a beat."

He vanished. Moving out of the limited shelter of the hollow, Klnn-dawan-a slid the caller back into its survival-pack pouch and pulled out her stinger. The whelps might or might not bother her, but there were other dangers roaming the mountains out there. Keying the weapon on, feeling the reassuring vibration against her palm as its energy capacitor filled, she opened the gate in the predator fence and stepped outside.

"Searcher?" an Elder's voice called faintly in her ear. "We were told to come help you."

"All right," Klnn-dawan-a said, glancing around at the pale shapes. Good; Prr-eddsi had assigned three of them to her. That would help. "We're searching for missing Chigin whelps," she told them. "I want two of you to start quartering the area. Pay particular attention to gullies, the lee sides of rock formations, and other wind-protected areas. You"—she gestured to the third, a fairly recently raised Elder named Rka't-msotsi-a—"stay with me. Keep an eye out for predators."

The other two Elders acknowledged and vanished. "Where are we going?" Rka't-msotsi-a asked.

"We'll start at the creek," Klnn-dawan-a told her, taking a bearing on one of the houses and pointing ahead and to the left. "That section where the cut's particularly deep. Stay close."

She headed off, struggling to keep her balance in the wind, hoping that Prr-eddsi would be willing to send some of the other Zhirrzh to help in the search. Elders were fine as communicators, but as hunters or trackers—particularly at latearc—they left a lot to be desired. Unfortunately, chances were good that Prr-eddsi would do nothing but stay where he was. For all his genius with alien languages, the director was about as timid a Zhirrzh as Klnn-dawan-a had ever seen.

"Searcher?" Rka't-msotsi-a's voice called faintly in her ear. "I checked ahead, and I think I may have spotted them. There's something, anyway, in that cut you mentioned down by the creek."

"Good," Klnn-dawan-a said, passing over the fact that she'd given Rka't-msotsi-a explicit instructions to stay with her. "How many were there?"

"I'm sorry," Rka't-msotsi-a said, a tinge of bitterness and self-reproach in her voice. "I couldn't tell."

"That's all right," Klnn-dawan-a hastened to assure her. Rka't-msotsi-a had been raised to Eldership only a cyclic ago, the result of a drudokyi attack elsewhere on Gree, and she was still coming to grips with these new limitations that had been imposed on her. And of course she'd been only thirty-four cyclics old when it had happened, barely five cyclics older than Klnn-dawan-a. That had to make it even more difficult. "Let's go take a look."

They headed off, Klnn-dawan-a straining to keep both her lowlight and darklight pupils as wide-open as possible and to keep watch in all directions. Rka't-msotsi-a, she knew, had been mauled badly by the drudokyi before her injuries had raised her to Eldership, and Klnn-dawan-a had no desire to suffer through something like that herself. Perhaps the whole unpleasantness surrounding that event explained some of Director Prr-eddsi's timidness, too, especially regarding Gree's animal life. He'd been right there with Rka't-msotsi-a when it had happened....

Off to their right, something moved behind a rock formation. "Searcher!" Rka't-msotsi-a snapped. "There!"

"I've got it," Klnn-dawan-a said, her stinger tracking that direction. Something alive, all right, and certainly big enough to be a Chigin whelp. Trouble was, it could be any of a number of other things, too. Including a drudokyi. "Go get a closer look. See if you can tell what it is."

"I'll try," Rka't-msotsi-a said tightly. She flicked toward the rock, vanishing as she passed through it toward the creature behind. Klnn-dawan-a waited, holding her breath....

And then Rka't-msotsi-a was back. "It's a drudokyi," she hissed.

Klnn-dawan-a's tail twitched violently. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Rka't-msotsi-a said, her voice trembling. "I'm sure. It's a big one, too."

"All right, don't panic," Klnn-dawan-a said, glancing quickly around her. "At this time of latearc there's a fair chance it's already fed. Let's just ease away and head for the creek."

There was no answer. "Rka't-msotsi-a?"

But the Elder was gone. "Terrific," Klnn-dawan-a muttered, looking around again as she began carefully backing away. She could dispose of the animal over there, certainly; on full power the laser beam from her stinger would vaporize a slender line through hide and muscle and bone, the explosive expansion of the resulting gas creating a hydrostatic shock wave that would instantly incapacitate and then kill the creature. The problem was that, despite Rka't-msotsi-a's identification, Klnn-dawan-a herself wasn't totally convinced the skulking creature was indeed a drudokyi. If not—if it was instead one of the missing whelps—then killing it without provocation could easily wipe out the vanishingly small amount of goodwill the Zhirrzh study group had so painstakingly built up with the Chigin community here. Best if possible just to get out of its way.

She took another step back; and as she did so, the mass behind the rock shifted position a little. Klnn-dawan-a raised the stinger warningly....

"Left!" Rka't-msotsi-a's voice shrieked in her ear.

Klnn-dawan-a spun around. From out of nowhere a second darklight-glowing image had appeared, bearing down on her with the speed and power of a double-wide railcar.

Her thumbs jerked spasmodically against the stinger's triggers, sending a brilliant slash of laser fire cutting through the air as she tried desperately to swing the weapon around to bear on this new threat. The light blazed into her dilated lowlight and darklight pupils, stabbing agony into her eyes and head and plunging everything else around it into terrifying darkness. Desperately, she swung the stinger back and forth, not sure she was even aiming in the right direction, hearing the roar of the drudokyi over the wind, feeling the click as the stinger shifted to autokill mode, smelling the drudokyi and the exotic Gree air and her own fear—

The drudokyi slammed into her, knocking the stinger from her grip and driving her backward to the ground. She gasped in pain, the predator's weight and heat settling on top of her, crushing her against the cold rocks. Dimly, she felt herself slashing again and again into the thick hide with the edges of her tongue....

And then, quite suddenly, the weight was gone. Klnn-dawan-a opened her eyes—she hadn't realized until then that she'd closed them—to find a group of Zhirrzh crouching over her. "Are you all right?" Bkar-otpo asked anxiously, dropping to the ground beside her and taking her arm. "You're—Director Prr-eddsi, she's covered in blood!"

"It's all right," Klnn-dawan-a gasped, patting his hand reassuringly as she struggled to get air back into her body. "I'm all right. It's the drudokyi's blood, not mine."

"Are you sure?" Prr-eddsi asked from her other side.

"I'm sure," Klnn-dawan-a said. "I think it must have been dead before it even reached me."

"That may well be," Prr-eddsi rumbled. "It's still only by immensely good luck that you're not an Elder by now.

"I know," Klnn-dawan-a said, a shiver running through her as she took stock of herself. Her face and torso were sticky with warm drudokyi blood, a stickiness that was rapidly turning to ice in the cutting wind. Her head still throbbed with the aftereffects of those blinding laser flashes, her whole body ached from that fall to the ground, and her tongue tingled with fatigue and the acrid tastes of the drudokyi's hide and blood and her own poison.

But she hadn't been raised to Eldership, and her body was still whole. She had indeed had immensely good luck.

"I'm glad you agree," Prr-eddsi growled. "I trust the lesson will find a permanent home with you. You should never, ever, go out into a dangerous situation alone. If Rka't-msotsi-a hadn't alerted us when she had, that other drudokyi would most likely have gotten to you before we did."

So that was where Rka't-msotsi-a had disappeared to just before the attack. "Believe me, I won't do it again," Klnn-dawan-a said. "I was just worried about the missing whelps."

"The whelps would have stood a considerably better chance against a pair of drudokyis than you did," Prr-eddsi countered, a shade less gruffly. "Anyway, they're fine. They're down by the creek. We've alerted the Ca Chagba family—some of them have gone down to herd them back."

"Good." Klnn-dawan-a pushed herself up and onto her left side. Her tail, freed from where it had been pinned beneath her leg, decided it was going to hurt, too. "Then I presume the sampling is still on for this latearc."

"You can't be serious," Bkar-otpo objected, clutching at her arm again. "After what you've just been through—?"

"Do be quiet, Bkar-otpo," Prr-eddsi said, running a critical eye over Klnn-dawan-a. "Are you really going to feel up to that, Searcher?"

"I'm fine," Klnn-dawan-a said, getting all the way to her feet and peering up at the sky. The wind was still pretty fierce, but the edge of the storm was markedly closer than the last time she'd looked. "Besides, we're at a critical point in the ring transmutation. We can't afford to miss even a single sampling right now."

"All right," Prr-eddsi said. "If you're sure you can handle it. But you take the time first to get cleaned up. And I mean really cleaned up. You walk into a whelp enclosure smelling of drudokyi, and you won't get a chance to put this latearc's lesson into practice. Bkar-otpo, escort her back to the encampment. And then start getting the sampling equipment together."

The wind had died down to a bare whisper by the time Klnn-dawan-a eased open the gate of the enclosure surrounding the Za Mingchma farm. "Hello?" she called gently in the Chigin language as she and Bkar-otpo slipped inside. "Anyone home?"

"I don't see them," Bkar-otpo muttered nervously. "You suppose something's wrong?"

"I doubt it," Klnn-dawan-a said, looking around as her tail sped up with uncomfortable anticipation. She certainly hoped nothing was wrong, anyway. The drudokyi attack had taken more out of her than she'd realized, and all she really wanted to do right now was go back to her shelter and curl up in bed where she could ache in peace. The last thing she needed was a confrontation—any kind of confrontation—with a Chig.

"Then where are they?" Bkar-otpo demanded.

"They're probably just—there they are." Klnn-dawan-a pointed as the group of whelps came silently toward them around the side of the house. "They were just staying out of the wind," she added, bracing herself as she stepped forward and offered the back of her hand. Certainly the whelps had seen the two of them often enough; but as Bkar-otpo had pointed out earlier, the storm wouldn't have done their moods any good. If they got it into their limited minds that the family's grant of safe passage no longer applied to these particular intruders...

The lead whelp trotted up to Klnn-dawan-a and sniffed delicately at her outstretched hand, and for a beat he rumbled deep in his throat. Then, flattening his ears and nostrils back again, he trotted away.

Carefully, Klnn-dawan-a let out her breath. "See?" she said. "No problem. Come on."

The three chrysalises were fastened to the south side of the farmhouse, huge tangled masses of silky threads spun by the whelps that were now secreted within them—whelps in the process of metamorphosing from mindless animals that guarded the farm into the full sentience of adult Chig.

"Gives me the creeps every time I think about it," Bkar-otpo muttered as Klnn-dawan-a knelt down beside the first chrysalis and opened her sampling kit.

"I don't see why it should," Klnn-dawan-a replied, selecting a probe and a tissue sampler. Using the probe to pull away some of the silk, she eased the slender needle of the sampler into the chrysalis mass. "In some ways it's parallel to our own transition from physical to Elder."

"Maybe that's what bothers me about it," Bkar-otpo said, producing a probe of his own and pulling some of the chrysalis silk back out of Klnn-dawan-a's way. "The parallels with the way the Chig treat their whelps."

Klnn-dawan-a flicked her tongue in a negative. "Now you've lost me."

"Well, just think about it a hunbeat," Bkar-otpo said. "The Chig treat their whelps like animals—"

"They are animals."

"You know what I mean. They could at least keep them in a storage outbuilding or something instead of leaving them unprotected in the open like this. You know how many of them die from exposure and predator attack before they even reach metamorphosis stage?"

"A fair number," Klnn-dawan-a conceded.

"A fair number? You call seventy percent a fair-number? And that's up here. I hear the death rate's even higher in the cities, where the whelps from different families are always fighting with each other."

"These are Chig, Bkar-otpo," Klnn-dawan-a reminded him. The tip of the sampler needle touched something solid: the whelp body sleeping within. Carefully, trying not to move the tip, she touched the button on the end, feeling the slight vibration as the tiny suction driver inside the device began the task of drawing fluids and soft tissue into the sampler's collection tube. "You can't judge aliens by Zhirrzh ethical standards."

"Maybe not," Bkar-otpo growled. "But we can certainly judge Zhirrzh by Zhirrzh standards. And I sometimes think the Elders use us physicals the same way the Chig adults use their whelps."

Klnn-dawan-a threw him a frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Bkar-otpo sighed. "I don't know," he said. "All I know is that we seem always to be giving up stuff for the Elders. I guess I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, I don't think you should have," Klnn-dawan-a agreed shortly. "And before you start talking such nonsense again, I suggest you think about all the ways the Elders contribute to Zhirrzh society. From interstellar communications all the way down to saving me from those drudokyis a tentharc ago."

"Yes, Searcher," Bkar-otpo muttered. "I will." The sampler stopped vibrating, indicating that the tube had been filled to its designated level. Carefully, Klnn-dawan-a eased it out of the chrysalis, wondering what all that had been about. But it was probably nothing. Bkar-otpo was only nineteen, after all, and youth was always rebelling against something. This was probably nothing more than that.

At any rate, Zhirrzh youth psychology wasn't her concern. Chigin metamorphosis was; and there were still eleven tissue samplings yet to be done this latearc. Snugging the first sampler back into its niche in her kit, she pulled out the second and got back to work.

8

Thrr-gilag's railcar switched direction at the main Cliffside Dales station, shifting onto a northward line that led all the way across the flat Kee'miss'lo River valley and ultimately into the Ghuu'rr-clan territory in the hills beyond. Once, while still back in school, Thrr-gilag had ridden this line all the way to its end, just to be able to say he'd done it. For this trip, though, he would be going less than a tenth of that distance. Just ninety-five thoustrides, as the halkling flew, to the small Frr town of Reeds Village.

The sun was glinting through the clouds near the horizon by the time the railcar pulled onto the siding and let him out. According to his father, his mother was living out in the farmland two thoustrides south of town in a small reddish house with white edging and a large vymis tree growing beside the roadway.

A house that Thrr't-rokik himself had of course never seen. Reeds Village was 115 thoustrides from the Thrr family shrine, fifteen thoustrides out of Thrr't-rokik's anchor range. The more Thrr-gilag had thought about that fact, the more ominous it had loomed in his mind. Something had caused his mother to move such a deliberate distance away, and he wasn't at all sure he was going to like the reason.

The darkness of latearc was filling the sky by the time he reached the house, which stood alone at the edge of the farmland, looking just the way his father had described it. Stepping up to the door, he knocked.

"Why, hello, my son."

Thrr-gilag jumped, turning to his left toward the voice. His mother Thrr-pifix-a was kneeling in a small garden beside the house, almost invisible in the gloom. "Hello, Mother," he said, starting toward her and letting his lowlight pupils dilate. She looked reasonably good: a couple of cyclics older than he remembered her, but strong and alert and capable. "Sorry I didn't notice you there."

"That makes us even, then," Thrr-pifix-a said, easing to her feet. "No, that's all right." She waved Thrr-gilag's hand away as he moved forward to help her. "I can manage. Sorry if I startled you; I didn't notice you myself until you knocked. I was trying to get the last of my seeds planted before it got too dark to see. I'm afraid my lowlight vision isn't all it used to be. Not to mention my hearing."

"Next time I come by so late, I'll be sure to whistle," Thrr-gilag promised lightly, touching his tongue gently to her cheek. "So what are you planting this cyclic?"

"Flowers, mostly," she said, taking his arm and returning the kiss. "Plus a few vegetables. The home-grown ones always taste so much better than mass-cultivated, don't they? Goodness, I must look terrible. Please excuse me—I didn't know you were coming."

"I tried sending you a message," Thrr-gilag said, eying his mother closely. "The communicator said you wouldn't accept it."

"Oh, I don't talk to Elders much anymore," Thrr-pifix-a said equably. "Have you eaten?"

"Ah—no, not recently," Thrr-gilag said, frowning down at her. "Is there some reason you don't talk to Elders?"

"Well, as long as your timing has worked out so well, we might as well put you to work," Thrr-pifix-a said. "I'll get you started on dinner while I go clean up. Come, I'll show you to the kitchen."

The meal was, for Thrr-gilag, a strange and rather discomfiting experience. On the one side, it was a warm, comfortable reunion with his mother, a time for food and conversation after too many cyclics of hurried neglect as he flew back and forth across Zhirrzh space studying alien races and artifacts. But even as he tried to relax in the warmth of family love, he couldn't ignore the taste of apprehension at the back of his tongue. Thrr-pifix-a was his mother; and yet, somehow, she wasn't. She had changed, in a way Thrr-gilag couldn't seem to get a grip on.

And she wouldn't talk about it. That was the most disturbing part of it. Every attempt he made during dinner to reintroduce her comment about Elders—every delicate probe he floated as to why she'd left home and come out here to the edge of a tiny Frr village—all were deftly deflected and instantly buried under a new flurry of news about distant cousins or friends.

So they sat and ate and talked... and it was only as the meal drew to an end that Thrr-gilag caught the new look on his mother's face and realized that she hadn't been ignoring the issue at all. She had, instead, been postponing it.

Until now.

"Well," Thrr-pifix-a said, setting down her utensils and getting carefully up from her meal couch. "That was excellent, Thrr-gilag; thank you. You must be getting a lot of practice in cooking out there on all those study worlds."

"Actually, you'd be surprised at how little cooking we try to get by with out in the field," Thrr-gilag confessed, stepping around the table and taking her arm. "And the meals out there certainly suffer for it. Why don't you go sit down in the conversation room while I get the dishware cleared away?"

"The dishware can wait," Thrr-pifix-a said, her voice quiet and serious. "Let's go sit down together, my son. We need to talk."

The conversation room was tiny, less than half the size of the one in their old house. "Small, isn't it?" Thrr-pifix-a commented, looking around her as she eased down onto one of the couches. "Nothing like the house I raised you and your brother in. Or the house I was raised in myself, for that matter."

"The size of the house isn't important," Thrr-gilag said. "As long as you're happy."

"Happy." Thrr-pifix-a looked down at her hands. "Well. I'm sure you've talked with your brother. And... others. What have they told you?"

"Absolutely nothing," Thrr-gilag said. "I didn't even know you'd moved until a few fullarcs ago."

She looked up at him again, and he felt his tongue stiffen against the side of his mouth. Here it came. "It's really very simple, Thrr-gilag," she said softly. "I've come to the conclusion—and the decision—that I don't wish to become an Elder."

Thrr-gilag stared at her, his heart thudding out the beats as an unreal sort of silence filled the room. Had she really said what he thought he'd heard her say? His own mother? "I don't understand," he managed at last.

She smiled slightly. "Which part don't you understand? Eldership, or my not wanting it?"

"I'm glad you're not taking this lightly or anything," Thrr-gilag shot back with a force that startled him. "Mother, what in the eighteen worlds are you thinking of?"

"Please." Thrr-pifix-a held up a hand. "Please. This isn't some bright new idea I dreamed up last latearc and haven't properly thought through. Nor is it the product of insanity or a broken mind. This decision has grown gradually, with a great deal of thought and study and meditation behind it. The least you can do is hear me out."

Thrr-gilag took a slow breath, willing his tail to calm its dizzying spin. No wonder Thrr-mezaz hadn't wanted to talk about this through a communicator pathway. "I'm listening."

Thrr-pifix-a looked around the room again. "I know it's rather a cliché, my son, but the older I get, the more I've begun to realize that it really is the smaller things in life that make that life worth living. The taste of one's food; the delicate smell of flowers or rainfall or the sea; the touch of a loved one's hand. Things we all too often seem to take for granted. I know I did when I was your age. But not anymore. My senses are fading—have been fading slowly for a long time now. I can't see or hear nearly as well as I used to, or taste or smell."

She lowered her gaze to her hands again. "I can still touch. But with all too many of my old friends, touch is no longer possible."

She looked up at him. "Eldership isn't life, Thrr-gilag. That's the long and the short of it. It may be a shadowy illusion of life—a wonderfully clever imitation, even. But it's not real life. And I've enjoyed life too much to settle for an imitation."

Thrr-gilag seemed to be having trouble breathing. "But there's no alternative, Mother. Without Eldership there's nothing afterward but..."

"Death?" Thrr-pifix-a said gently. "It's all right, you can say it."

"But you can't do that."

"Why not?" she asked. "Zhirrzh did it all the time, you know, until we learned how to remove and preserve fsss organs. Millions of Elders were summarily thrown into the great unknown during the various Eldership Wars. Even now some are lost each cyclic to accidents or the simple weight of age of their fsss organs. Eventually, we'll all have to face death."

"Eventually, maybe," Thrr-gilag said. "But not now. Not while you're still—" He broke off.

"While I'm still what?" Thrr-pifix-a asked. "Young? Capable? Able to impart the wisdom of my cyclics to my descendants?"

"All of those," Thrr-gilag insisted. "And more. We need you, Mother. More than that, we want you. How can you think of taking yourself away from us?"

She looked him straight in the eye. "How can you think of demanding that I stay?"

There was no answer to that. Only an ache deep within Thrr-gilag, an ache that had no words. "Couldn't you at least give it a try?" he asked at last. "Perhaps it's not as frightening as you think."

Thrr-pifix-a flicked her tongue in a negative. "I'm not frightened, Thrr-gilag. You've missed the point entirely if you think that. I know what the grayworld is like—I've heard all the descriptions and talked to many Elders. If anything, all the fear lies on the other side, with the unknowns and uncertainties of death. It's simply a matter of not wanting to live the way an Elder must."

"But you can't make that kind of decision without giving it a try," Thrr-gilag persisted. "You can't."

"But I have to," Thrr-pifix-a said. "Don't you see? If I wait until I've been raised to Eldership, I'll have lost my chance to decide otherwise."

Thrr-gilag stared at her, sudden realization sending a jolt from his tongue straight through to his tail. "Mother, what are you talking about?" he asked carefully.

"I'm sure it's obvious," she said. "The only way I can avoid Eldership is to go retrieve my fsss organ from its niche at the family shrine. And to destroy it."

Thrr-gilag took a careful breath, the room seeming to tilt around him. "Mother, you can't do that," he said, hearing in his voice the tone of one explaining something to a very young child. "Tampering with a fsss organ is a grand-first felony."

"But it's my own fsss," she pointed out. "Taken from my own body. Why shouldn't I be able to do what I want with it?"

"Because you can't," Thrr-gilag said. "That's all there is to it. It's the law."

"Oh, come now," Thrr-pifix-a said, tilting her head in that peremptory way Thrr-gilag always associated with her challenges to his schoolwork answers. "Just because something is a law doesn't mean it's right. A thousand cyclics ago it was illegal for anyone except clan and family leaders to have their fsss organs removed at all."

"I'm familiar with Zhirrzh history, thank you," Thrr-gilag said. "But you can't use arrogant stupidities in our past to justify breaking the law now."

"I'm not trying to justify anything, Thrr-gilag," Thrr-pifix-a said tiredly. "There's no challenge to the law itself in this—I'm sure it was written for good reasons by Zhirrzh who were intent on doing the right thing. All I want is the right to choose for myself. And I should have that right. All Zhirrzh should."

Thrr-gilag closed his eyes. "Who have you told all this to?"

"This part? Just you. Though your brother may have recognized on his own where the track was leading."

"And father, too?" He opened his eyes. "Is that why you moved out of his anchorline range? So he wouldn't have a chance to try to talk you out of it?"

Thrr-pifix-a stood up and stepped over to one of the windows. "Your father is gone, Thrr-gilag," she said, almost too softly for him to hear. "What's left out there at the shrine is not the Zhirrzh I bonded to and worked beside for forty-eight cyclics. I left home because the reminders of what I'd lost were too much to bear."

"I understand," Thrr-gilag said, a twinge of her same ache tugging at him. He'd felt it himself at the shrine: talking to the Elder his father had become was not the same as having his father there beside him. Not really. "I wish I knew what I could say that would make it better."

Thrr-pifix-a turned back from her contemplation of the darkness outside. "I know. And I thank you for caring." She made an attempt at a smile. "I wish I knew what to say to keep you from worrying about me the way you are right now."

"You could say you'll think about this idea of yours some more," Thrr-gilag suggested. "You could say that you understand that this loss is still fresh, and that you'll give it more time to heal before you do anything drastic."

"How about if I just say I'll put you up for the latearc?" she countered, the smile more convincing this time. "With a promise of breakfast at the other end? I won't even make you cook this time."

Thrr-gilag sighed. "I'm sorry, Mother, I wish I could. But I've got to get going. I have to leave for Gree in a few tentharcs."

"Gree?"

"Yes. Klnn-dawan-a's there with a study group."

"Ah," Thrr-pifix-a said. "I should have known. Please give her my best when you see her. I hope you two find the time to be bonded soon. While I'm still around to come to the ceremony."

"Yes," Thrr-gilag murmured, frowning at the unconcerned look on his mother's face. Could it be that she didn't know about the Dhaa'rr threat to revoke the bond-engagement?

No, of course she didn't know. She wasn't talking to Elders anymore. "We'll try to accommodate you," he said. "Look, I really have to go. But you take care. And... keep thinking about all of this. All right?"

"I will," she promised, stepping over to kiss him farewell. "You think about it, too. And take care of yourself."

"Sure. I'll talk to you when I get back. I love you, Mother."

"I love you, my son."

The walk back to the rail seemed longer, somehow, than the earlier walk in the other direction. Colder, too, in the chilly latearc air. Thrr-gilag plodded mechanically along, oblivious to the silent, starlit world around him. And tried to think.

It was a waste of effort. There were too many questions, too many potential crises facing him and his loved ones. And no solutions to any of them.

Should he tell his father what Thrr-pifix-a had planned? Or if not him, should he tell Thrr-tulkoj? Surely the Zhirrzh charged with protecting the Thrr family shrine would want to know of this kind of threat. And it was almost certainly Thrr-gilag's legal duty to report it to someone.

But on the other side, it had been only half a cyclic since Thrr't-rokik had been raised to Eldership. If this attempt to run away was really nothing more than an expression of her grief and her struggle to adjust, reporting it would do nothing but cause more trouble for everyone. And shame to go along with it.

Or should Thrr-gilag himself have tried harder to talk his mother out of the whole thing? Canceled his trip to Gree, perhaps, and spent more time with her? Maybe it was loneliness that was driving it, or a cry for help and support?

Maybe he should have told her about the threat to his bonding with Klnn-dawan-a. It would have given him an opening to suggest that she should bury such radical thoughts for now in favor of family solidarity, as well as reminding her of the advantages Elders had in obtaining knowledge and information.

No. Thrr-pifix-a didn't care about information and knowledge. She cared about her garden, and her cooking, and her edgework, and her family. And Eldership would take three of those away from her.

He sighed, a startling sound in the stillness of the latearc. No, there was nothing more he could do about this. Not right now. Maybe when he got to Gree and had a chance to talk with Klnn-dawan-a, the two of them might be able to come up with something.

He picked up his pace, the weariness lifting a little from his spirit. Yes; Klnn-dawan-a. Together, the two of them would find some way to resolve this mess. All of it.

They had to.

9

The small transport glided in from the western sky, circling the area once before touching smoothly down onto the Dorcas-village landing field. For a few beats the screech of the reversers mixed in with the roar of the engine noise as the pilot braked against the transport's momentum. The craft slowed to a crawl, the roar and screech fading together into a dull rumble. Turning again, much more ponderously now that it was on the ground, it began a leisurely circle back to where Thrr-mezaz and Klnn-vavgi waited.

An Elder appeared in front of Thrr-mezaz. "They're down, Commander," he reported. "The Elders' initial postflight check on the engines shows all systems normal."

"Very good," Thrr-mezaz said. "Inform all perimeter warriors to stand down to secondary-alert status. And have the Stingbirds recalled from their escort zones."

"I obey, Commander," the Elder said, and vanished.

"Well, here we go," Thrr-mezaz commented, glancing at Klnn-vavgi. "You ready, Second?"

"Not really, no," Klnn-vavgi said. "To be perfectly honest, Thrr-mezaz, this whole thing makes me nervous. There's no reason I can think of why Dkll-kumvit should need to come all the way down here just to talk to us. That's what he's got direct laser links for."

"Maybe he just wants to overview our defensive setup for himself," Thrr-mezaz said.

"He can do a blame sight better overview from orbit than he can from down here," Klnn-vavgi said. "Anyway, he's a ship commander. You ever known a ship commander who voluntarily came down on the ground?"

Thrr-mezaz shrugged. "There's always a first time."

"You believe that if you want to, Commander," Klnn-vavgi growled. "I say he's got a hummer with him, and that we've got some bad news coming."

The transport rolled to a stop in front of them, a landing ramp unfolding from its side as its doorway slid open. Dkll-kumvit was waiting at the top, and even before the ramp had completely settled into place, he was on his way down.

"Good postmidarc to you," Thrr-mezaz said as the other reached the ground. "I'm Commander Thrr-mezaz; Kee'rr. This is Second Commander Klnn-vavgi; Dhaa'rr."

"Commander Thrr-mezaz; Second Commander Klnn-vavgi," Dkll-kumvit acknowledged. "I'm Supreme Ship Commander Dkll-kumvit; Ghuu'rr."

"Honored, Supreme Ship Commander Dkll-kumvit." Thrr-mezaz gestured, and the three warriors waiting with the kavra fruit stepped forward.

The ritual was quick and perfunctory, all the more so here in the middle of a war zone. "I have some matters to discuss with you, Commander," Dkll-kumvit said when they were finished. "Have you a place where we can speak in private?"

"Certainly, Supreme Commander," Thrr-mezaz said, carefully keeping his emotion out of his voice. A private talk... and that pouch riding on Dkll-kumvit's waist was just the right size for a hummer. Klnn-vavgi had called it, all right. "This way, please."

A hunbeat later the three of them were in Thrr-mezaz's office, the door securely closed behind them. "The following is official Warrior Command business," Dkll-kumvit called into the air, pulling the expected hummer from his waist pouch. "For the ears of the commander and second commander alone."

He set the hummer on the desk and turned it on, and an intrusive, pulsating tone filled the room. "Is that setting all right, Commander?" he asked Thrr-mezaz.

"It's fine," Thrr-mezaz said, not entirely honestly. Hummers were highly effective at masking normal speech from the diminished hearing capacity of Elders, and were thus useful in situations where Elder eavesdropping was unacceptable for one reason or another. The Elders themselves, who hated being left out of things, had tried on at least five occasions to get the Overclan Seating to institute a total ban on the devices. They'd failed all five times, vowing each time to try again.

It was, in Thrr-mezaz's opinion, a great deal of fuss and fury over nothing. Despite their apparent advantages, hummers were unlikely ever to come into common use for the simple reason that the same sounds that interfered with Elder hearing also rattled the brains of everyone within earshot. Some Zhirrzh were so sensitive that they became physically ill; for most others a reasonably short exposure wasn't much of a problem, though even with them there was a fair chance of winding up with a headache for a tentharc or two afterward.

Thrr-mezaz himself fell somewhere between those two extremes, and he was pretty sure Dkll-kumvit knew it. The supreme ship commander's use of the device anyway was an unpleasant underscoring to the seriousness of the visit.

"I expect you're both wondering what this visit is all about," Dkll-kumvit said, leaning back into his couch. "To be honest, I'm not sure I understand myself all of what's going on. But I'm getting some disturbing rumblings; and since you two are the Zhirrzh on the firing line, I wanted to give you as much advance warning as possible."

Thrr-mezaz glanced at Klnn-vavgi. Something special from the Human-Conquerors? "What sort of rumblings, Supreme Commander?"

"Political ones, of course," Dkll-kumvit grunted, making a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "Even in the middle of a war you can never seem to lose the politics." He looked hard at Thrr-mezaz. "Especially politics pertaining to or emanating from Elders. And right now, Commander, you are the Zhirrzh they want most on the hot seat."

Thrr-mezaz grimaced. "Prr't-zevisti."

"You got it," Dkll-kumvit agreed. "Many of the Elders consider you responsible for his death."

"Actually, Supreme Commander, there's no real proof that he's dead," Klnn-vavgi put in. "Considering all the metal the Human-Conquerors use, it's entirely possible that they simply have him trapped up there."

"Unlikely," Dkll-kumvit said. "But I suppose it's possible. Still, at this point it almost doesn't matter what's actually happened to him. The fact is that Prr't-zevisti has vanished; and the political reality is that you, Commander Thrr-mezaz, are going to be held accountable."

Klnn-vavgi snorted. "With your permission, Supreme Commander, I'd like to say that that's not only ridiculous but also unfair. This is a war zone, not a student field trip. A million things happen out here that can't be anticipated or controlled by anyone."

"I agree completely, Second Commander," Dkll-kumvit said dryly. "Unfortunately, I'm not the one you need to convince. And if you'll permit me a certain degree of speculation, I would suggest that your presence here as second commander is part of the reason the Dhaa'rr Elders are stirring this particular pot so strongly. I suspect they're hoping to use this Prr't-zevisti business as a lever to get you promoted to command on Dorcas."

Klnn-vavgi hissed in contempt. "I've already had that offer. I told Speaker Cvv-panav that I wasn't ready for this command, and that I didn't want it."

"I applaud your loyalty, Second Commander," Dkll-kumvit said. "As well as your assessment of your experience and capabilities." His tongue flicked sourly. "Unfortunately, clan Speakers like Cvv-panav never let such trifles as common sense stand in the way of what they want. No disrespect to your clan intended, Second Commander."

"None taken, Supreme Commander," Klnn-vavgi assured him. "I have no illusions as to the purity and nobility of any clan leaders, including my own."

"What exactly is the gist of the Dhaa'rr argument?" Thrr-mezaz asked. "That I had no business putting the pyramids and their fsss cuttings outside our defense perimeter in the first place?"

"That's basically it, yes," Dkll-kumvit said. "They also claim that after Prr't-zevisti's cutting was captured, you did little or nothing to intervene."

"Do they note that my own Elders strongly advised me to hold back?" Thrr-mezaz countered. "Out of concern that Prr't-zevisti's fsss cutting would be destroyed if we attacked?"

"Or that Prr't-zevisti himself had the option of returning to his family shrine at any point along the way?" Klnn-vavgi added. "I would suggest that that gives him a fair amount of the blame for whatever's happened to him."

"As I've already said, Second Commander, this is politics, not logic," Dkll-kumvit said quietly. "All I came here for was to make you aware of the situation as it currently exists. Whatever moves are made next will be directed at Commander Thrr-mezaz. It'll be up to him to deal with them."

"I appreciate the warning, Supreme Commander," Thrr-mezaz said. "I'll try not to let any of this interfere with the smooth operation of this beachhead."

"I'm sure you won't, Commander." Dkll-kumvit gestured at the village-area map on the wall. "So. Anything new on your search efforts north of the village?"

"Not yet," Thrr-mezaz said. "The Elders have completed their examination of the surface and are starting to look underground."

"Hard work, that, even for Elders," Dkll-kumvit commented. "There are always annoying little veins of metal ore that get in the way down there. I take it they've examined the rocks and trees as part of their surface search?"

"Yes." Thrr-mezaz nodded. "Quite thoroughly."

"Um," Dkll-kumvit rumbled, gazing at the map again. "You really think that Human-Conqueror warrior team was trying to get to something out there?"

"I wouldn't have the Elders searching if I didn't," Thrr-mezaz said.

"And if they don't find anything?"

"I'll ask your permission to move the pyramid to a new area and continue the search," Thrr-mezaz told him. "Whatever's out there, the Human-Conquerors seem to consider it important. I wouldn't want to treat it any less so."

"Well, I hope you're right," Dkll-kumvit said. "A success here could prove highly important. In more than just matters of war."

Thrr-mezaz nodded. A significant warrior success that followed directly from his placement of the pyramids outside the perimeter would go a long way toward deflating the arguments of his political opponents. "I understand, Supreme Commander," he said. "If there's something out there the Human-Conquerors want, we'll get to it first."

"Good." Dkll-kumvit stood up. "Then I suppose I'd best get back to the Imperative and let you get on with your work. Never know when the Human-Conquerors will try their hand at another attack, and I'd hate to be stuck here on the ground while my warships fight it out up there."

He reached for the hummer; paused. "One other thing, Commander," he said. "I've heard back from Warrior Command on my request for reinforcements. It's been denied."

Thrr-mezaz looked at Klnn-vavgi. "The whole request?"

"The whole request," Dkll-kumvit confirmed. "No new warships for me; no new ground warriors for you. And no heavy air-assault craft for either of us."

Thrr-mezaz grimaced. So much for any attacks on the Human-Conquerors' mountain stronghold, then, at least for the foreseeable future. The expeditionary force had included just two of the heavy-weapon air-bombardment craft, a tenth of the number that should have been assigned for this sort of invasion. Dkll-kumvit had argued strongly against the decision, protests that had been ignored by the parsimonious strategists at Warrior Command. The result had been both inevitable and crippling: both air-assault craft had been destroyed within the first tentharc of the invasion. "Did they give you any reasons?" he asked Dkll-kumvit.

"All they would say was that they had nothing to spare right now," the supreme commander said.

"What about the veterans' reserves?" Klnn-vavgi asked. "Have they started calling them up yet?"

"I asked about that," Dkll-kumvit said. "I'm still waiting for an answer." He hesitated. "I have heard, though—strictly unofficially and not to be repeated—that Warrior Command has already launched expeditionary forces onto two more Human-Conqueror worlds. And that they're planning to attack three more worlds within the next few fullarcs."

Thrr-mezaz stared at him. Five more beachheads, before their first three target worlds had even been pacified? "Excuse me, Supreme Commander, but that strikes me as a bit... premature."

"Insane was the word I used, Commander," Dkll-kumvit said heavily. "I don't know what in the eighteen worlds they're thinking of back there. I can only assume they have some good reason for it."

Thrr-mezaz looked at Klnn-vavgi, their brief discussion just after the last Human-Conqueror attack flashing to mind. The conversation where they'd speculated that Warrior Command had learned something about the Human-Conquerors that had them scared. "Perhaps they've altered their threat assessment," he murmured.

"Perhaps," Dkll-kumvit said. Reaching to the desk, he picked up the hummer and shut it off. "I just hope they aren't getting overconfident," he added into the sudden silence. "This isn't going to be like taking on four planets' worth of Isintorxi, you know."

Thrr-mezaz looked at Klnn-vavgi again. "No," he said. "Somehow I don't think overconfidence is going to be a problem."

The latearc darkness had fallen, masking the village in a sort of watchful gloom. Shifting position on his couch, Thrr-mezaz stared out the window of his office, squeezing his hands against the sides of his head and the dull pain throbbing there. A headache, generated by Dkll-kumvit's hummer. And by Dkll-kumvit's words.

Behind him the door slid open. "Commander?" Klnn-vavgi called.

"Come on in, Second," Thrr-mezaz said, gesturing him over. "I'm just sitting here in the dark."

"Yes, I can see that," Klnn-vavgi said, stepping in and letting the door slide shut behind him. "Any particular reason why?"

"Headache," Thrr-mezaz said. "Or trying to think, or basic fear of the light. Take your pick. Any report from our intrepid search party?"

"Well, the major news is that the Dorcas topground has metallic ore veins in it," Klnn-vavgi said dryly. "Vast numbers of them, judging by the number and volume of the complaints I've been getting. The Elders aren't happy at all with this assignment."

"This is a war," Thrr-mezaz snapped, abruptly sick and tired of the Elders and their attitude. "In case they've forgotten, let me remind them that wars do not involve large shares of personal happiness. I get any more of this whining—about anything—and I'm going to send the whole batch of them back to their shrines. They can sit there and watch the clouds go by for the rest of eternity for all I care. You got that?"

"Yes, Commander," Klnn-vavgi said, his voice stiff and formal. "I'll make sure the Elders understand."

For a few beats the room was silent. Thrr-mezaz squeezed his hands against his headache, the sudden flare of anger burning down again into tiredness. "All right, then," he said more calmly. "Aside from complaints, did they have anything to report?"

"Not yet," Klnn-vavgi said. "But they've covered only about ten percent of the area. This part's going to be slower than the above-ground search."

"I know," Thrr-mezaz said, turning back to the window. What was the Human-Conqueror commander doing up there, he wondered, secure behind his explosive missiles and his Copperhead warriors? Was he staring out into the darkness, too, wondering and worrying about what his enemy was doing? Or was he instead poring over maps and timetables with his warriors, confidently planning their next expedition to the mysterious objective to the north?

In any given arena, at any given time, one side or the other always had the initiative. Or so Thrr-mezaz had been taught. Which side, he wondered, had it here?

"Commander?" Klnn-vavgi asked tentatively.

Thrr-mezaz gave his head one last squeeze and dropped his hands back to the desk. "Enough is enough, Klnn-vavgi," he said, keying on his reader and pulling up one of the overview maps that the orbiting warships had made up. "We've been sitting on our hands here for eleven fullarcs now, letting the Human-Conquerors make all the moves. It's time we took some of the initiative ourselves."

"You going to petition for more heavy air-assault craft?"

"I had in mind something with higher odds of success," Thrr-mezaz said. "What do we know about the approaches to the Human-Conquerors' stronghold?"

"Well, we know there aren't any easy ones," Klnn-vavgi said, coming around to his side of the desk where they could both see the reader. "Are we talking about an attack direction here?"

"Not necessarily," Thrr-mezaz said. "Or rather, not yet. What we need first is to find out more about the place."

"I don't know how we're going to do that," Klnn-vavgi said, flicking his tongue in a negative. "We'd never get a Stingbird in close enough. Not with those Copperhead warriors waiting there like hungry halklings."

"What if we go on foot?"

"That's not much better," Klnn-vavgi said, leaning over the desk and keying the reader for an overlay. "There are only a handful of passable approaches—you can see where they're marked. The Human-Conquerors have sentry points guarding all of them."

"True," Thrr-mezaz said, studying the map. "But those posts have probably been set up to keep anyone from getting through into the stronghold itself. There's no particular reason we have to go in that far."

Klnn-vavgi frowned down at him. "You're not thinking about using the Elders, are you?"

"Why not? They're perfect for this kind of scout work."

"As I recall, that was one reason we let the Human-Conquerors leave with Prr't-zevisti's cutting," Klnn-vavgi reminded him. "You're not going to get a lot of volunteers to try it again."

"I'm in command here, and I don't have to ask for volunteers," Thrr-mezaz reminded him mildly. "Besides, the main problem with Prr't-zevisti was that we let the Human-Conquerors in on the transport end of the operation. This time we'll do it all ourselves."

Klnn-vavgi rubbed thoughtfully at the corner of his mouth. "I don't know, Thrr-mezaz," he said slowly. "That's pretty rough country to tackle on foot. And unless we can talk Dkll-kumvit out of one of his ten-thoustride-range Elders, we're going to have to get the pyramid within five thoustrides of something useful. That's going to put us uncomfortably close to one or the other of those sentry points, and I somehow doubt a nice shiny white pyramid would go unnoticed."

Thrr-mezaz grimaced. Klnn-vavgi was right, of course, on all counts. And given the current political realities, Dkll-kumvit probably wouldn't go out on soft sand like this for him. Particularly not with something involving an Elder. "Then there's no way around it," he said. "We're just going to need a cutting with a longer anchor range. If we can't get it from Dkll-kumvit—"

He broke off, an odd thought suddenly striking him. "Is there any particular reason why we need to lug a whole pyramid up there?" he asked slowly. "We're only talking about one, maybe two cuttings here. Why not just put them in some kind of small predator-proof container and carry it on up?"

Klnn-vavgi's midlight pupils narrowed in astonishment. "You aren't serious," he said. "You mean just throw an Elder's fsss cutting into a box like it was an order of fresh produce or something? Come on, Thrr-mezaz—you think you have trouble with the Elders now, you try even suggesting something like that. They'd be screaming for you to be staked out for the savagefish before you could blink twice."

"All right, forget it," Thrr-mezaz growled. Traditions were fine in their place, but the fastidious and inflexible adherence to them could sometimes be a complete pain in the throat. "Then we're back to finding ourselves a cutting with a longer range. I wonder if Warrior Command would be able to furnish us with one."

Klnn-vavgi snorted. "I don't see why not," he said sourly. "Look at all they've saved on warriors and equipment for us."

"Right; we'll appeal to their sense of guilt," Thrr-mezaz said. "I'll go ahead and put in a request. All they can say is no."

"And they probably will." Klnn-vavgi frowned at the reader. "Before you do that, maybe we ought to try talking to your brother. He might have some idea why the Human-Conquerors would be poking around out there."

"I doubt it," Thrr-mezaz said. "As far as I know, his study group didn't get any detailed information on Dorcas."

"No, but he knows a lot about the Human-Conquerors themselves," Klnn-vavgi said. "Anyway, it can't hurt to ask him."

"I suppose not," Thrr-mezaz said reluctantly. After that conversation with Dkll-kumvit this postmidarc—and his own little outburst a few hunbeats ago—he wasn't exactly eager to trust a private family conversation to a pathway of possibly hostile Elders. Still, he couldn't avoid it forever. "Communicator?" he called.

There was a short pause, and then an Elder appeared. "Yes, Commander?"

"A pathway to the Overclan Seating. I want to speak with the location server on duty."

The Elder nodded and vanished. Klnn-vavgi stepped back around the desk and was just settling onto his couch again when the Elder returned. " 'I am the location server for the Overclan Seating,' " he said. " 'Speak, Commander Thrr-mezaz.' "

"I need to locate my brother, Searcher Thrr-gilag; Kee'rr," Thrr-mezaz said. "He's currently working with an alien-study group under Overclan Seating supervision."

The Elder nodded and left.

And stayed gone. "Interesting," Klnn-vavgi murmured as the beats rolled slowly by. "You think they've lost track of him?"

"Could be," Thrr-mezaz said. "Thrr-gilag has a tendency to wander off without telling anyone where he's going. Drove my mother crazy when we were growing up."

The Elder returned. " 'I do not have a current location for Searcher Thrr-gilag; Kee'rr,' " he said. " 'I will keep trying and will alert you if contact is established with him.' "

"I see," Thrr-mezaz said. "Thank you. Farewell."

The Elder vanished, returned. "The pathway is released, Commander. Will there be anything else?"

"Yes," Thrr-mezaz told him. "Open a pathway to my father, Thrr't-rokik; Kee'rr. He's at the Thrr family shrine near Cliffside Dales."

"I obey," the Elder said, and vanished.

"You suppose he's being kept incommunicado?" Klnn-vavgi suggested. "Something connected with that mission to the Mrachanis?"

"Could be," Thrr-mezaz agreed. "Let's try a couple more things before we give up."

The Elder reappeared. " 'It's good to hear from you, my son,' " he said. " 'How are you?' "

"I'm fine, Father," Thrr-mezaz said. "I need to talk to Thrr-gilag, and I'm having trouble locating him. Do you have any idea where he might be?"

The Elder vanished, returned. " 'He visited me here at the shrine last fullarc. He then went to see your mother, and after that he was to board a spacecraft for Gree to see Klnn-dawan-a.' "

"He's going to Gree?" Thrr-mezaz frowned. "I'd have thought the Overclan Seating would want him to stay close to Unity City."

" 'Really? He didn't say anything about that. Something having to do with his studies?' "

"More or less," Thrr-mezaz said evasively. Semiofficial details of the Mrachani expedition had been circulating through secure warrior pathways for a good fullarc now, but that didn't mean the news had been released to the general public yet. Chances were good it hadn't, in fact, and that it wasn't going to be. "Do you happen to know which flight he went out on?"

" 'No, but I can find out. Is this a carnival, or what?' "

Thrr-mezaz smiled tightly. Carnival—private family code for a vitally important matter, derived from the seriousness with which he and Thrr-gilag had treated such things when they were children. "It could very well be a carnival, yes," he agreed soberly. "Both for him and for me."

" 'I understand, my son. If you can hold on to the pathway a hunbeat, I'll see what I can find out.' "

"Yes, please do," Thrr-mezaz said.

The Elder vanished. "A carnival?" Klnn-vavgi asked, tilting his head as he looked at Thrr-mezaz. "Interesting terminology you Kee'rr have."

"It's private family slang," Thrr-mezaz told him. "And don't give me a hard time about it—I'll bet you had plenty of goofy slang when you were growing up."

"I beg your pardon, Commander," Klnn-vavgi said, with feigned indignation. "There was nothing goofy about it. Floogy and gritch were perfectly good words—"

The Elder reappeared. " 'Sorry to be so long,' " he said. " 'He's on the warrior supply ship Ministration, which left Oaccanv about three tentharcs ago.' "

"Thank you, my father. I appreciate it."

" 'You know I'm always here to help you, Thrr-mezaz. Take care of yourself, and I'll talk to you soon. Farewell.' "

"Farewell." Thrr-mezaz nodded to the Elder. "Release the pathway, and open another to the Ministration," he ordered.

"I obey."

"I don't think the Overclan Seating's going to be happy about his charging off to Gree," Klnn-vavgi commented.

"Probably not," Thrr-mezaz conceded soberly. "Unless they've already dropped him from the mission."

"That's possible," Klnn-vavgi agreed. "Considering the likely pathway, though, you probably shouldn't ask him about it."

"I wasn't planning to."

The Elder appeared. " 'Hello, Thrr-mezaz. This is a surprise.' "

"And I know how much you've always liked surprises," Thrr-mezaz said dryly, glancing at his armwatch and belatedly doing a quick time conversion. "I'm sorry—you were probably asleep, weren't you?"

" 'Yes, but don't worry about it,' " the answer came back. " 'I can sleep next cyclic. What's up?' "

"Just one quick question," Thrr-mezaz said. "Our Human-Conquerors here have been trying to get into an area north of our encampment. There's nothing obvious out there they might want, and no particular tactical advantage that I can see to the location. I was wondering if you might have some idea what they might be up to."

The Elder nodded and vanished.

Once again the beats rolled by. "You suppose he's fallen back asleep?" Klnn-vavgi asked.

"I don't know," Thrr-mezaz said, frowning out the window. Either Thrr-gilag had indeed fallen asleep, or else he was thinking very hard about the question.

Or else he already knew the answer and was trying equally hard to phrase his answer carefully...

The Elder returned. " 'I can't tell what they might want up there,' " he said. " 'But I'm sure you'll want to keep on top of the situation. You certainly don't want the Humans making a carnival out of this whole thing.' "

Thrr-mezaz felt his midlight pupils narrow. A carnival. "I understand, Thrr-gilag," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "We'll watch ourselves. You, too."

" 'I will,' " the reply came back. " 'Farewell, my brother.' "

"Farewell." Thrr-mezaz nodded to the Elder. "You may release the pathway. That will be all for now."

"I obey," the Elder said, and vanished.

"Well, that was interesting," Klnn-vavgi said, standing up and stepping toward the door. "I'm not sure how informative it was, but it was interesting. If that's all, I think I'll be getting back to my quarters."

"Go ahead," Thrr-mezaz said. "Before you go, though, I want to apologize for blowing up at you a few hunbeats ago. This sitting around here like wounded nornins is starting to get to me."

Klnn-vavgi smiled lopsidedly. "Don't worry about it, Commander. I'll see you next fullarc."

He left, the door sliding closed behind him. With a tired sigh Thrr-mezaz resettled himself on his couch and closed his eyes. A carnival. Not something Thrr-gilag would have just accidentally said. Not a word he would have used lightly.

Which meant that his suspicions had been right. There was something about this war and the Human-Conquerors that Warrior Command wasn't telling anyone.

And Thrr-gilag knew what it was. I can't tell you what they might want, he'd said. Innocently and deceptively worded, but Thrr-mezaz knew his brother better than that. Thrr-gilag knew what the secret was but had obviously been forbidden to talk about it.

And some part of that secret—whatever it was—was right here on Dorcas.

And it was suddenly more imperative than ever that the Zhirrzh find out what was going on up there in the mountains. Which meant getting a warrior inside, or an Elder in close.

Or maybe, just maybe, they already had an Elder in close....

Thrr-mezaz flicked his tongue restlessly, trying to think it through. In its own way it was a wildly audacious idea, and certainly not one that was going to go down well with anyone else involved. And even he had to admit the odds of success were extremely low.

But if it worked, it would be worth whatever grief they threw at him over it. Well worth it. "Communicator?"

The Elder appeared. "I thought you were finished, Commander," he said, his tone just short of a grumble.

"You have somewhere else you want to be?" Thrr-mezaz countered. "I want a pathway to the recorder of the Prr family shrine on Dharanv."

The Elder blinked. "The Prr family shrine?"

"That's right," Thrr-mezaz said. "Go on—it's getting late here and I want to get to sleep."

"I obey," the Elder said, the bemused look on his face vanishing along with the rest of him.

Thrr-mezaz turned back to his reader and the overview map. All right. What they needed was a spot out of view of the Human-Conqueror sentry points....

The Elder was back. " 'I am fourth assistant recorder for the Prr family shrine,' " he said. " 'Speak, Commander Thrr-mezaz; Kee'rr.' "

"I'm inquiring about the fsss organ of Prr't-zevisti; Dhaa'rr," Thrr-mezaz said. "What has been the disposition of it?"

The Elder vanished, reappearing a hunbeat later. " 'The fsss organ you refer to remains untouched in its niche. Why would you think it would be otherwise?' "

"Excellent," Thrr-mezaz said. "Then I would like to request formally that a new cutting be taken from it as soon as possible. A cutting which will then be sent to me here at the expeditionary force beachhead on the Human-Conqueror world of Dorcas."

The Elder stared at him, looking stunned. "Commander?"

"Just deliver the message," Thrr-mezaz said.

The Elder gulped. "I obey, Commander," he said, and disappeared.

Thrr-mezaz flicked his tongue in a grimace and resettled himself again on his couch. The wait this time was likely to be a long one.

He was right. It was nearly four hunbeats before the Elder returned. " 'This is a most irregular request, Commander Thrr-mezaz,' " he said. " 'Most irregular indeed. One might almost say it was illegal; one would certainly say it was a violation of generations of Zhirrzh tradition.' "

"Nevertheless, I make it," Thrr-mezaz told him. "I believe that it would be in Prr't-zevisti's best interests, as well as aiding in our war efforts against the Human-Conquerors."

"But Prr't-zevisti is dead," the Elder frowned.

"The Prr family doesn't seem convinced of that," Thrr-mezaz pointed out. "Otherwise, why keep his fsss organ intact? Deliver the message—let's see what they say."

"I obey," the Elder sighed, and vanished.

The pause this time was nearly as long as the previous one had been. " 'I cannot grant such a request, Commander. It is not within my authority to do so.' "

"Then I suggest you confer as quickly as possible with your family and clan leaders," Thrr-mezaz said, putting an edge in his voice. "If Prr't-zevisti is still alive, this could be his best chance at survival. Possibly even his only chance."

" 'I will do as you ask,' " the reluctant answer came back.

"I thank you for your efforts," Thrr-mezaz said. "I'll expect a quick response."

" 'I will do what I can.' " The Elder paused. "Commander, if you'll pardon a personal observation, this is not going to make you any friends among the Dhaa'rr."

"No, I expect I already have all the friends among the Dhaa'rr I'm ever going to," Thrr-mezaz said. "Unless the recorder has something else, you may release the pathway. And this time I am finished for the latearc."

"I obey," the Elder said, his tone that of one disappointed with his commander, and vanished.

Reaching to his reader, Thrr-mezaz keyed it off, stretching tired muscles in arms and shoulders. Let the Elder be disappointed with him. Let the whole expeditionary force be if they wanted to. Winning this war was the overriding consideration here. Nothing else mattered.

Getting up from his couch, he crossed the office to the door. The next move was with the Dhaa'rr and the Prr family. He could only hope they were taking the war as seriously as he was.

10

It was a long ride by rail from Reeds Village to the Thrr family shrine. Long enough for the sunlight glinting through the railcar window to have burned away premidarc mists and wispy clouds to blaze brilliantly down through the uncustomary cloudless sky. Long enough, as Thrr-pifix-a gazed out the window, for her faint reflection on the glass to be replaced by an equally faint shadow.

Long enough, certainly, for her to have changed her mind about what she was planning to do. But she hadn't. And as she walked down the path toward the towering white pyramid, she realized that that fact meant her decision was indeed final.

The choice was made. She would not become an Elder. Ahead, the door into the leftmost protector dome slid open, and Thrr-tulkoj stepped out, laser rifle in hand. "Stand fast," he said, "and speak your name."

"I obey the Protector of Thrr Elders," Thrr-pifix-a said, nodding politely. Thrr-tulkoj was an old friend of Thrr-gilag's, but the ritual nevertheless had to be observed. "I am Thrr-pifix-a; Kee'rr."

"Who will prove your goodwill and intentions?"

"I will," she said, picking out one of the kavra fruit from the rack and slicing it. The first time she'd ever done this, she remembered, she'd almost dropped the kavra at the sharp and bitterly strong taste of its poison-neutralizing juice. Now, with the slow fading of her senses, the fruit seemed depressingly bland.

"And who will prove your right to approach?" Thrr-tulkoj asked.

"Why, you will, of course," Thrr-pifix-a said, smiling at him as she dropped the kavra into the disposal container. "How are you, Thrr-tulkoj?"

He smiled back, a combination of patience and wry humor in his expression. "I'm fine, Thrr-pifix-a," he said. "Come on, now—you know there's a protocol to be followed here."

"Oh, but I did follow it," Thrr-pifix-a said. "I'm not here to talk to any specific Elder, you see. So you're the one who has to prove my right to approach."

Thrr-tulkoj frowned slightly. "Ah," he said. "Well, all right, then. Advance, Thrr-pifix-a, and state your purpose here."

"I just wanted to come and watch for a while," she said, glancing up at the shrine as she stepped forward. "See what the Elders do here, maybe join in a conversation or two. Just... see what it's like."

"I understand," Thrr-tulkoj said quietly. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"No, thank you," she said. "I can manage."

"All right," he said. "Feel free to take your time. I'll be here if you need me."

He stepped back inside the guard dome, propping his weapon against the inside wall. Thrr-pifix-a waited until the door had sealed shut behind him; then, taking a deep breath, she headed toward the shrine. There were something like forty thousand niches there, identified only by number. But that wouldn't be a problem: the certificate she'd been given at the hospital when she was ten cyclics old had been carefully preserved in the memories book her mother had begun for her two fullarcs after her birth. She could find her fsss... and then all she would need would be a few beats of privacy.

The numbers carved beneath each of the niches were small and difficult to see in the glare of the sunlight. She peered at some of the ones at eye level as she started walking slowly along the near wall of the shrine. 27781—too low. 29803—still too low, but going the right direction. 31822... 33850... 35830...

And there it was, at waist height just before the shrine's edge. 39516: her niche. And resting there inside it...

For a handful of beats she gazed through the mesh screen at the fsss that had been surgically removed from behind her brain so many cyclics ago. Such a small and fragile thing, it seemed to her. So unlikely a thing to have been the driving force behind so much of Zhirrzh history.

But it had. And unless she completed what she'd set out to do this fullarc, it would continue to drive her own history as well. For a long, long time.

Heart thudding in her chest, her tail spinning like a foamed-ceramic mixer, she fumbled with suddenly trembling fingers at the mesh door's release catch. It came open with a explosive snap that seemed to echo across the landscape. She glanced quickly around at the protector domes, her tail spinning faster than ever, sure that they must have heard that.

But neither Thrr-tulkoj nor anyone else was in sight. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the niche and lifted the now loosened door—

And without warning a figure stepped around the corner of the shrine, and a hand darted across to lock around her wrist. "I'm sorry, Thrr-pifix-a," Thrr-tulkoj said quietly, taking another step and capturing her other wrist. "You know you can't do that."

"What are you talking about?" Thrr-pifix-a demanded, her voice quavering with shock and frustration despite her best efforts. "I just wanted to look at it."

"Come on," the protector said, pulling her courteously but firmly away from the shrine. Holding her there with one hand, he resealed the mesh door she'd opened. "Come on," he said again, shifting to a hold on her upper arm and guiding her back along the path toward the domes. "I'll take you back to the rail, all right?"

Thrr-pifix-a looked ahead down the path at the glistening mesh of the predator fence, the bitter taste of failure mixing with the kavra juice on her tongue. Just like that, her one chance was gone. "Please, Thrr-tulkoj," she whispered. "Please. It's my fsss. My life. Why can't I do what I want?"

"Because the law says so," he reminded her gently. "Along with hundreds of cyclics of Zhirrzh history."

"Then they're wrong. The law and history both."

"Perhaps," Thrr-tulkoj said. "It wouldn't be the first time tradition and reality had gotten out of step. But my job isn't to make law here. Just to enforce it." He looked sideways at her. "Maybe you should try talking to the family and clan leaders. Present your case to them."

Thrr-pifix-a flicked her tongue in a negative. "They wouldn't listen to me. An old female, without any status or political standing?"

Thrr-tulkoj shrugged. "You never know. Maybe there are others out there thinking the same thing who just haven't had the nerve to talk about it. Anyway, you're not nearly as status poor as you seem to think. What with Thrr-gilag out studying the Human-Conquerors and Thrr-mezaz out fighting them, the family leaders owe you at least a serious hearing. And don't forget, as soon as Thrr-gilag and Klnn-dawan-a are bonded, she can probably talk to the Dhaa'rr clan leaders for you, too."

Thrr-pifix-a sighed. "Perhaps," she said.

But he was wrong, and they both knew it. No clan leaders were going to take the time to hear the babbling plea of an old female. Not even if they weren't in the middle of a war.

It was a long ride back home to Reeds Village. And seemed even longer.

The last page of the last report rolled up off the display, and with a tired sigh the Overclan Prime turned off his reader. So the initial battles were over. The fourth and fifth Zhirrzh beachheads were now established on Human-Conqueror worlds, with encirclement forces on guard overhead. Two more expeditionary forces were preparing even now to lift off the main staging areas on Shamanv and Base World 11, bound for two other Human-Conqueror worlds, with five more groups being assembled from across the eighteen worlds. The reports coming in from captured territory were fairly glowing with success and victory. From all appearances the Zhirrzh counterattack against this new alien threat was going perfectly.

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 the Diligent 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 her fsss 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 their fsss 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 their fsss organs preserved as their leaders already had; the rights of Elders to have their fsss 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?"

"In theory, certainly," the First said. "In actual practice, though, it never remains in such balance for long. The Twenty-second is quite right in fearing that other, more radical Zhirrzh will seize upon Thrr-pifix-a's case, twisting it into an attack on Elders and Eldership generally." He gestured to the Second. "It happened twice during my son's tenure as Overclan Prime."

"And once during mine," the Ninth put in.

"And during mine, as well," the Sixteenth added.

"There's no need to list them all," the First said. "The point is that this is not uncharted territory. It's a threat that has raised itself time and again throughout Zhirrzh history, threatening to erode the sense that Eldership is an absolute right that cannot be altered or taken away. If you allow individual Zhirrzh to refuse Eldership, the inevitable result will be Zhirrzh claiming the right to make that same decision not for themselves, but for others. Never mind the lack of a logical connection; it's been demonstrated time and again that that is the direction in which such thinking evolves. The only way to keep that from happening is to make sure we never take that first step."

"And so the very idea must be suppressed," the Prime said.

"Yes," the First agreed solemnly. "As quickly as possible. As ruthlessly as necessary."

"I see," the Prime said, a shiver running through him as he looked around the room. He'd never heard even rumors of such incidents—he, the Overclan Prime of the Zhirrzh people. A ruthless suppression, indeed. "And you're convinced that suppression is the only way? All of you?"

"Do you doubt our word?" the Twelfth demanded, the pitch of his voice dropping imperiously. "Our combined experience alone—"

"Please," the First said again. "Of course we can't guarantee that this is the only way, Twenty-ninth. No one can. But at the very least, any such movement against Eldership would be a serious distraction for the Zhirrzh people. And we cannot afford even a beat of distraction. Not now. Not as we battle for our survival against these conquerors."

"No, I suppose not," the Prime murmured. "Very well. You've presented the problem. Have you likewise prepared a solution?"

"We have," the Sixteenth rumbled. "The problem arises not because of what this Thrr-pifix-a wants but because of what she is: a common, reasonable, respectable person. As you yourself said, there are crazed fanatics all the time who don't want Eldership."

"Yes," the Prime said grimly. He saw where this was going now, all right. "And therefore what we need to do is prove Thrr-pifix-a to be as crazed as any of the rest of them."

"I take it from your voice that you don't approve," the Twenty-eighth suggested.

The Prime looked him square in the face. "No, Father, I don't," he said bluntly. "I don't like using the office of Overclan Prime this way. It feels far too much like an abuse of the power I've been granted."

"Then perhaps you should resign," the Twelfth snapped. "An Overclan Prime who's afraid of his power is of no use at all to the Zhirrzh people."

"Or perhaps he's all the more valuable to them," the Prime snapped back. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't it the abuse of personal power that has led to most of our wars?"

"Well stated," the Eighteenth said approvingly. "But as it happens, the abuse of personal power—not yours—is a second problem that you're currently facing. Our proposal is that you solve both of these problems with the same knife."

The Prime frowned at him. "I'm listening."

"It's really quite simple," the Twelfth said. "You have on the one side Thrr-pifix-a of the Kee'rr clan, who wishes to decline Eldership. On the other side you have Speaker Cvv-panav of the Dhaa'rr, whose ambition is clearly to build his clan's power beyond even the height of its old political dominance." He eyed the Prime. "This latter, I presume, is not news to you."

"Hardly," the Prime assured him sourly. "Cvv-panav sees himself as the head of a new Dhaa'rr empire."

"And because of that he must be made to stumble," the Twelfth said. "Not to fall, but to stumble. Here is what we propose."

The twenty-nine of them talked long into the latearc... and in the end the Prime reluctantly gave in. At the least, he told himself, it would reduce the distractions that were being created by Speaker Cvv-panav's drive for power, allowing all of them to concentrate more fully on their war of survival.

And if it hurt an old, harmless female... well, perhaps that was the price that had to be paid.

The price of Zhirrzh survival. And of the Prime's own education regarding the painful duties that sometimes came with power.