18

For a few brief hunbeats, just before sunset, the sky to the west had been reasonably clear. But that hadn't lasted long; and now, with the last reddish tinges fading from the edges of the clouds, the gap had mostly closed up. Standing at the door of his protector's dome, breathing deeply of the cool evening air, Thrr-tulkoj gazed out at the gathering clouds and wondered idly if they were heavy enough to spill some rain.

He hoped so. Nearly all of the Elders liked rainstorms, at least the quiet, civilized sort. The steady drumming of rain on the shrine; the gentle, almost tickling sensation of the drops that made it through the insect mesh to dribble onto their preserved fsss organs; the restless, capricious breezes whispering around the shrine's corners—it all made for a welcome change for them. A respite from the dreary routine and decreased sensory abilities that figured so strongly in an Elder's life.

He looked up at the sky again. On second thought, he amended, it would be better if the rain held off until next fullarc or at least much later this latearc. It would be a shame for the fleeting pleasures of a rainstorm to come when the Elders couldn't properly appreciate them. With virtually all of them clustered over in Cliffside Dales right now listening to the speakers at that Overclan-sponsored debate/discussion, the noise of a rainstorm would just be a distraction.

Across the path the other dome opened up, and a young Zhirrzh stepped outside. Thrr-aamr, freshly recruited to the position of protector of the Thrr family shrine. "Good latearc, Protector Thrr-tulkoj," he said, nodding politely at his superior. "You're here rather late."

"And going to be later still," Thrr-tulkoj told him. "I got a message a few hunbeats ago on the direct-link that Thrr-brov is ill, so I'll be taking his shift this latearc."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Thrr-aamr said. "Do you want me to call one of the Elders and have him track down a substitute?"

"Don't bother," Thrr-tulkoj said, flicking his tongue in a negative. "I'm not tired; and anyway, the Elders are all having a big argument over at Cliffside Dales. I wouldn't want to interrupt their fun."

Thrr-aamr grinned. "I understand. Anyway, I've finished the fullarc's statement and sent it across to your recorder for approval. I've also gone ahead and started the twenty-fullarc review of the current shrine population. Is there anything else I should be working on?"

"Nothing comes to mind," Thrr-tulkoj said, frowning at him. "Aren't we about two fullarcs early for a population review?"

Thrr-aamr shrugged. "I thought that, given how quiet it's likely to be this latearc, I might as well go ahead and get it started now."

Thrr-tulkoj smiled wryly. The kid might be young and fresh to the job, but already he'd caught on to the chief reason family shrines still bothered with protectors. Not to protect them, but to have someone on hand at all times for lonely Elders to talk to. "Point well taken," he said. "Sure, keep going with it."

"Yes, Protector."

Thrr-tulkoj glanced at the sky again. "On second thought, as long as you're already on your feet, why don't you go ahead and do a perimeter walk first. The initial section of a population review mostly runs itself, anyway."

"Yes, I know," Thrr-aamr said, reaching into the dome and picking up his laser rifle. "I'll be back soon," he added, slinging it over his shoulder and starting down the path toward the gate.

"No rush," Thrr-tulkoj said. "Might as well enjoy the air and make a really good check of the fence. As you said, it's going to be a quiet latearc."

"Sure thing," Thrr-aamr said.

Thrr-tulkoj stepped back into his dome and touched the door button. The curved wedge of material slid closed on its track and sealed; and as it did so, the dome abruptly seemed to vanish as the special ceramic turned one-way transparent. For a few beats he watched Thrr-aamr make his way toward the predator fence gate, now sealed for the latearc. Then, stretching once, he turned around and sat down on his couch, swiveled now to face the shrine. For a beat he gazed up at the brilliant white surface, growing dim as the sunlight faded out to the west. Then, dropping his attention to his desk, he activated his recorder and began reading Thrr-aamr's fullarc statement.

Across the darkened chambers came a quiet knock at the door. Frowning, the Prime looked up from his recorder. "Come in," he called.

The door opened. "Good latearc, Overclan Prime," Speaker Cvv-panav said as he stepped inside. "You're up late. I take it I'm not intruding?"

"Not particularly," the Prime said, not entirely truthfully. "Can I help you with something?"

"No," Cvv-panav said, closing the door behind him. "I just thought I'd stop by to tell you that it's started."

"What's started?"

"The retrieval of Thrr-pifix-a's fsss organ from her family shrine, of course," Cvv-panav said, settling himself down on the visitor's couch in front of the Prime's desk. "Surely you hadn't forgotten?"

"Hardly," the Prime said, looking at his armwatch. "I'm a bit surprised at the timing, that's all. It won't even be fully dark out in Kee'rr territory yet."

"It's dark enough," Cvv-panav assured him. "Certainly for a theft from a couple of simple and unsuspecting shrine protectors." He paused. "And, of course, the slightly early timing should help in getting the jump on all the rest of it, too."

The Prime eyed him. "All the rest of what?"

Cvv-panav smiled tightly. "Come now, Overclan Prime. You didn't really think I was foolish enough to take your story at face value, did you? Thrr-pifix-a being a threat to the stability of Zhirrzh culture, and all that?"

"That wasn't just a story," the Prime said quietly. In the darkness behind Cvv-panav, he could make out the image of the Eighteenth, hovering there listening. "Thrr-pifix-a's attitude is a genuine threat to the legal and traditional bases of Eldership. One that has cropped up more than once in the past five hundred cyclics."

"Oh, I have no doubt of that," Cvv-panav agreed. "And I have no doubt that you see it as a danger of sorts. But we both know what you see as the real threat to your power."

The Prime flicked his tongue. "You?"

"Very good," Cvv-panav said approvingly. "No feigned surprise; no false astonishment. And all by itself it proves that I'm right."

The Eighteenth was still there, still listening. An emergency communication link that Cvv-panav didn't know about, should this whole thing go badly wrong. "You're wrong," the Prime told Cvv-panav. "I guessed only because I understand how you think. That you see yourself as one of the High Warriors of old, who will lead the Dhaa'rr to glorious domination of the eighteen worlds. The breakwater that all other Zhirrzh must throw themselves against, to destroy or else be destroyed by."

"All politics is warfare, Overclan Prime," Cvv-panav said. "All of life is, for that matter. It's a battle of wills and of strength. Of course you're out to destroy me. That's the natural order of things."

"And where does cooperation come in?"

Cvv-panav sniffed contemptuously. "Cooperation was invented by people who didn't have enough strength to win what they really wanted. You and I are warriors, Overclan Prime. We're beyond such things."

The Prime flicked his tongue in disgust. "You've certainly recreated the attitude of the old High Warriors—I'll give you that much. Enough of this, and we won't need the Human-Conquerors to destroy our culture for us."

"I would say it's precisely that warrior attitude that we need right now," Cvv-panav countered. "You can bet the Human-Conquerors didn't grow to dominate all within their reach by making compromises with inferior peoples. Tell me about CIRCE."

The Prime felt his tail twitch. "CIRCE?" he asked as casually as he could. "What's that?"

"Don't play coy with me, Overclan Prime," Cvv-panav warned. "You know perfectly well what CIRCE is. It's a Human-Conqueror weapon of great power. I want to know the details."

The Eighteenth was still there. "I don't know what you're talking about," the Prime said. "Where did you hear about this CIRCE?"

Cvv-panav snorted under his breath. "The High Warrior plays for time," he said, a note of disgust in his voice. "Fine; so be it. I have as much time as you do... and when your obvious little warrior net comes up empty, you'll tell me what I want to know. Or else I'll bring you down, and the entire Overclan along with you."

The Prime grimaced. So Cvv-panav knew all about the warrior net he'd set around the Thrr family shrine. "Perhaps," he said, his mouth and voice stiff. "We'll see. In the meantime, as you pointed out, it's rather late. If you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

"Certainly," Cvv-panav said, settling himself more comfortably on his couch. "Go right ahead. We have all latearc."

There was a flicker of light, just visible out of the corner of his eye, and with a frown Thrr-tulkoj looked up from his reader. Odd; the weather forecast hadn't made any mention of lightning. Letting his lowlight pupils widen, he scanned the sky beyond the shrine.

It was certainly cloudy enough in that direction, but they weren't the sort of clouds that generally spawned thunderstorms. Even as he studied them, though, there was another flicker of light, this one off to his right. He turned quickly, just in time to catch a third flash from over the hills that dotted the eastern horizon. And it had definitely not looked like lightning.

It had looked like laser fire.

Eyes still on the hills, he fumbled for the key that activated his direct-link to the other dome. "Thrr-aamr?" he called. "Take a look at the horizon due east."

There was no answer. "Thrr-aamr? Come on, look alive."

Again, no answer. Of course: Thrr-aamr was probably still walking the perimeter. Peering out at the predator fence half a thoustride away, Thrr-tulkoj keyed off the direct-link and reached instead for the control to the loudspeaker he used to summon Elders. The noise would cut into their debate over in Cliffside Dales, of course, but that couldn't be helped. Anyway, it wouldn't be any worse for them than if he stepped outside the dome and shouted.

He paused, his fingers resting on the switch. Thrr-aamr wasn't walking along the predator fence, at least not any part of it Thrr-tulkoj could see. In fact, the younger protector was nowhere to be seen.

Thrr-tulkoj looked around the fence again, an unpleasant tingle running through him. No; no mistake. Thrr-aamr had vanished.

Unless he was back in his dome and the direct-link had simply malfunctioned. Sure; that was probably what had happened. All Thrr-tulkoj had to do was step outside, tap on Thrr-aamr's dome, and the two of them together could then have a nice calm discussion about what kind of phenomenon could produce lightning that looked like laser fire.

Thrr-tulkoj's hand was still resting on the loudspeaker switch. He let it go, inactivated, moving his hand instead to the laser rifle propped against the dome beside the door. Sliding off his couch, he punched the door release and slipped outside.

The sun was long gone beneath the horizon, and the shifting breezes had turned chilly. For a few beats Thrr-tulkoj crouched beside the dome, laser rifle held ready, ear slits straining for any unusual sounds. Nothing. His lowlight pupils were already fully open, and now that he was outside the darklight-blocking effect of the dome, he let his darklight pupils widen as well. The landscape around him took on tinges of heat-radiant glow; carefully, methodically, he began a slow sweep of the parts of the shrine enclosure he could see.

Nothing.

Swearing under his breath, he moved a quarter of the way around the side of his dome and started the search again. This was stupid. It really was. Chances were good Thrr-aamr was sitting inside his dome right now, either completely oblivious to Thrr-tulkoj's antics out here or else watching in bemusement as his superior made a fool of himself. He ought to just go over and pound on the door—

He froze. There, across by the bluff overview, something was lying on the ground beside the predator fence. About the size of an adult Zhirrzh.

Not moving.

"Of course it was obvious to me from the start what you really had in mind when you suggested this operation," Cvv-panav commented. "People close to me, I believe you specified when we talked; people I could implicitly trust. People whose very identity would indict me along with them when your net of warriors caught them with a stolen fsss organ in hand."

"I had nothing of the sort in mind," the Prime said. "The Overclan warriors are surrounding the Thrr shrine solely to provide your people with cover. To make sure no one wanders into the area at an awkward time."

"Ah," Cvv-panav said. "So you admit that there are warriors there?"

"It wouldn't do much good to deny it," the Prime pointed out. "You've obviously already had word from your own people that they're there. My question is, what are you doing to them?"

"The High Warrior worried about his warriors?"

The Prime locked eyes with him. "The Overclan Prime concerned about those under his authority," he bit out. "What are you doing to them?"

Cvv-panav's mouth twitched. "It depends on how peacefully they surrender," he said, some of the arrogance gone from his voice. "Assuming the idea of Eldership holds no great fascination for any of them, they should all be lying on the ground by now with laser rifles held against their fsss scars. Unhurt."

"And if they decided instead to fight?"

Cvv-panav shrugged. "I sincerely hope that's not the case. I have no particular desire to raise any of them to Eldership."

"I'm pleased to hear that," the Prime said bitterly. "I don't suppose any of that altruism might come from the fact that raising them to Eldership would put them in instant contact with the Elder community and flash the alarm all across Oaccanv."

Cvv-panav shrugged again. "My people know what they're doing. Tell me about CIRCE."

"I trust your people will also remember that the Overclan warriors standing by near Reeds Village are there to arrest Thrr-pifix-a after her fsss has been delivered to her," the Prime said, ignoring the other's question. "If they're delayed too long, she'll have time to destroy it."

"Ending any chance of burying the incident without a public trial," Cvv-panav nodded. "Don't worry, Overclan Prime. I'm watching over the Dhaa'rr clan's interests here. All of our interests. Now, are you going to tell me about CIRCE? Or shall I instruct the Dhaa'rr Elders to begin spreading the word about this mysterious Human-Conqueror weapon that has the Mrachanis so frightened?"

The Prime grimaced. So that was how Cvv-panav had found out about CIRCE. Bad; but not as bad as it might have been. The Mrachanis who'd landed at the Dorcas beachhead had said little more than CIRCE's name before Warrior Command had been able to stifle that line of discussion. It was too bad that one of the Elders in attendance had leaked the name to Cvv-panav, but at least he didn't have the whole story.

But even with just a name he had enough of a lever to do some serious prying with. And if he chose to have this out in public in the Overclan Seating, nothing about CIRCE would stay a secret for long.

So it all hung on what happened in the next couple of tentharcs out in Kee'rr territory—on his people's skill, and on the accuracy of his own perception of how Cvv-panav saw the universe and his own place in it.

"I have nothing to say right now about CIRCE," he told Cvv-panav. "Except that it's something that must be kept secret."

Cvv-panav smiled. "In other words, you still have hopes that your warriors will prevail out there and bring me down. Very well; I can wait. When word comes that my people have completed their mission and successfully vanished into the darkness of latearc, perhaps you'll recognize that your choices are between a private briefing or a public battle."

"Perhaps," the Prime said. "Or perhaps an entirely different word will come to you. Shall we wait here together and see?"

Cvv-panav eyed him, the first hint of uncertainty flicking across his face. "Certainly," he said. "Why not."

It was Thrr-aamr, all right, lying there in a crumpled heap at the base of the predator fence. Unconscious, a swelling lump already forming at the base of his skull where he'd been hit. Beside him was a neat cut in the mesh of the fence, just big enough for a Zhirrzh to crawl through, directly over the steepest part of the bluff.

Someone had penetrated the enclosure.

Thrr-tulkoj swore again, this time meaning it, as he dropped flat on the ground beside Thrr-aamr and swung his laser rifle around to firing position. He couldn't see anything moving or radiating near the shrine, but that didn't prove much. He—or they—could be around on the far side of the shrine right now, out of Thrr-tulkoj's sight. Besides, intruders clever enough to breach the fence at the one spot no protector would ever expect trouble would certainly be clever enough to be wearing darklight-suppressing combat suits while they did it.

They would also be clever enough to crawl across the ground, lest someone watching from the protectors' domes spotted them. Which would take time. Which meant that unless Thrr-aamr had happened to have the misfortune of catching them on their way out, the intruders were most likely still here.

Pressed against the ground, his tail spinning rapidly, Thrr-tulkoj peered across the open ground and wondered what in the eighteen worlds he was going to do. The simplest, most straightforward thing would be to shout as loud as he could and hope that at least some of the Elders on this side of the shrine would hear him. If he could get a warning into the Elder community, the whole planet could be aroused in a matter of hunbeats.

But there was no guarantee that his voice would carry well enough against the latearc breezes for anyone to hear him. Except maybe the intruders. And if they were armed—and they almost certainly were—then at the first sign of trouble from him they would do their best to raise him to Eldership.

Thrr-tulkoj wasn't afraid of Eldership. The threat of premature raising was supposed to come with this job. But if he was raised now, it would leave the Elders and the shrine completely defenseless.

Steady, he told himself firmly, pressing closer against Thrr-aamr. Think it through. You're a trained protector, and you're a long way from being helpless here. Think it through.

He should have used the loudspeaker right at the beginning, of course. In backsight that was painfully clear. But the procedures stated explicitly that the Elders were not to be alerted in cases of suspected intrusion, probably because every such incident for the past hundred cyclics had turned out to be a false alarm. Thrr-tulkoj had hit the direct-link emergency signal mounted to the side of the dome before heading over here; the fact that there hadn't yet been a response from Cliffside Dales implied that the intruders must have cut the cable somewhere before breaking in. Either that, or the system had simply fallen apart from disuse.

The best thing would be if he could get back to the dome. The loudspeaker would let him sound the alarm, not to mention the laser protection the one-way ceramic would afford him if it came down to a battle.

Unfortunately, nearly half a thoustride of open ground lay between him and the domes right now. Worse, he hadn't been particularly surreptitious on his way over to the fence. If the intruders had spotted him, they were undoubtedly watching and waiting for his next move. Probably with lasers already pointed his direction.

Which left him really only one option. He would have to slip through the hole the intruders had made in the fence, make his way down the bluff and over to the rail stop near the gate, and use the direct-link installed there to sound the alert. It would be a tricky climb, and it would mean leaving the shrine undefended, but there was nothing he could do about that. Keeping a close eye on the area around the shrine, he started to ease his way around Thrr-aamr—

And froze, listening. A new sound was drifting in to him over the latearc breezes. A transport, somewhere in the near distance.

The reinforcements from Cliffside Dales had arrived.

Moving his head as little as possible, Thrr-tulkoj searched the sky for the craft, a fresh surge of excitement rippling through him. Protector laser rifles were infinitely adjustable, in both intensity and spread angle, and there was a specified procedure for tuning the power and muzzle-coning down far enough to make the weapon into a safe flash-code signaler. A signaler, moreover, whose beam would be easily visible to the transport pilot and yet wouldn't sizzle the atmospheric water enough to produce emissions visible in any other direction. He could start with a simple three-two-three distress signal....

He frowned, his hands pausing midway through the necessary adjustments. The hum of the transport's engines had choked suddenly, dissolving into the sharp crackle characteristic of a misfiring transkilmer. Was the transport in trouble? He looked around the sky again, but he couldn't spot any running lights in the direction the sound was coming from. Odd. Had the transport's optronics failed, too? No; of course, the warriors would be trying to make an invisible approach. The hum returned, crackled again; returned, crackled again; returned, crackled again—

And then, in the middle of the last crackle, he abruptly understood. The noise wasn't coming from engine failure, at least not from unintentional engine failure. It had been deliberately created, designed for a very specific purpose.

To cover up the sound of a fsss-niche cover being opened.

For a beat Thrr-tulkoj's mind flashed back four fullarcs to that attempt by Thrr-gilag's mother to steal back her fsss. Thrr-pifix-a herself couldn't have climbed the bluff, certainly, but she might have found friends or relatives to do it for her.

He glanced down at Thrr-aamr's unconscious form. No. He knew Thrr-pifix-a and her family, and none of them would ever have condoned violence of this sort against one of her shrine's protectors.

But then who? And why?

The transport's engines had settled down again to their normal hum, and from the sound of it, the vehicle was veering off. Apparently its sole job had been to cover the noise of the intruders opening their target niche.

Thrr-tulkoj gripped his rifle harder, the brief flicker of hope giving way again to frustrated indecision. The intruders had one of the niches open now, with free access to the fsss organ inside. But surely the owner would have felt their touch by now and come back to investigate.

But no Elder had yet appeared. Were they dealing with the fsss of someone who was still a physical, then?

Again Thrr-tulkoj's thoughts flicked to Thrr-pifix-a. But again he rejected the idea that she could possibly be behind this. This was something vicious, like the bitter living-death feuds of nine hundred cyclics ago.

He winced at the thought. Living death: the deliberate destruction of an enemy physical's fsss. The exquisite torture of leaving him to live out his physical life with the knowledge that nothing but certain death awaited him at the end of it. Such feuds had once been widespread on Oaccanv, ultimately precipitating the Second Eldership War. If someone was trying to resurrect the abominations of that era...

He stiffened. Over at the shrine a figure had raised itself up from the ground. For a beat it stood there, silhouetted against the white ceramic. Then, crouching low, it headed across the enclosure.

Directly toward Thrr-tulkoj.

Thrr-tulkoj pressed his tongue hard against the inside of his mouth, quickly readjusting his laser rifle back to full power. The figure was still coming, blatantly arrogant in his presumption that no protector would dare fire on him with a shrine at his back. Lifting his laser rifle a fraction, Thrr-tulkoj peered through its sights. Right or wrong, it was time to make a move. Taking a deep breath and holding it, he settled his thumbs against the rifle's triggers.

His only warning was a whisper of sound from above him... and by then it was too late. Too late to react; too late to move; too late to do anything but realize to his shame and chagrin that the enemy had outmaneuvered him one final time. Against the sudden hum of the returning transport came the faint flopping sound of something semirigid flying through the air toward him—

And suddenly he was hammered flat against the ground as the black stickiness of a tar slab slammed into him.

He dropped his weapon, turning half-over and pushing upward against the sticky, semisolid blackness. It molded itself around his hands, the sides folding gradually but inexorably in toward his body. He tried pulling his hands sideways in opposite directions, hoping to tear a hole in it. But the slab was too thick, the material too resilient, and he succeeded only in lowering the roof of the slowly shrinking cave he and Thrr-aamr were in. Desperately, he let go with one hand and grabbed for his laser rifle, swiveling it awkwardly in the cramped space and managing to get it jammed up into the tar like a tent pole. Mentally pleading for good luck, he pressed the triggers.

The entire tar slab didn't burst into flame, as he'd feared it might. Instead, a small section around the muzzle flashed into vapor. The slab dropped inward around the new hole; holding it back with one hand, Thrr-tulkoj repositioned the rifle to another spot and fired again.

It seemed to take forever but was probably no more than fifteen hunbeats before he had enough of the tar slab vaporized to pull himself out from under it. Breathing heavily, his tail going double time with the body heat he hadn't been able to get rid of in there, he got shakily to his feet and looked around.

Not that there was any need to do so. The intruders and their transport were long gone, having accomplished whatever it was they'd come there to do.

Swearing dully, he reached down and pulled Thrr-aamr partway out of the tar, making sure his face and tail were clear. Then, retrieving his rifle, he headed across the enclosure toward the dome. It was far too late to give the alarm now—whatever the damage, it was already done. But it was still part of his job to do so.

Very likely the last part of this job he would ever do.

"Yes, I'm coming," Thrr-pifix-a called as the insistent knock came a second time on her door. She'd spent much of the postmidarc in her garden, and her legs had now stiffened up as she sat fussing with her decorative edgework. "I'll be there in just a hunbeat."

Whoever was out there apparently heard her, because the knocking stopped. She made her way across the conversation room to the foyer, her legs thankfully loosening up somewhat in the process. Reaching the door, she opened it.

There was no one there.

Frowning, she took a half step outside, letting her lowlight and darklight pupils widen as she looked around in the darkness. No one. Some child, perhaps, up late pulling pranks? She took another half step outside, shivering in the chilly latearc air—

Her foot kicked something solid. Frowning some more, she looked down.

It was a small pouch, of the sort she liked to practice her edgework on, just lying there in the dirt. Bending over with some difficulty—her back had stiffened up, too—she retrieved it and stepped back into the foyer. Pulling the fastening strip open, she looked inside.

And froze, her hands going suddenly rigid.

It was a fsss organ.

She hurried outside again, this time going all the way to the roadway. But Korthe and Dornt were nowhere to be seen. They must have just set the pouch and fsss down and run.

Something in the back of Thrr-pifix-a's mind found that disturbing. But for right now it didn't seem to matter. What mattered was that they'd kept their pledge to her.

She had her fsss.

Slowly, she retraced her steps back into the house, closing and locking the door behind her. She had her fsss. Here, in her hands. Her own fsss. To destroy, if she so chose.

The question was, did she now so choose?

She groped her way to the kitchen table and sat down, staring into the open pouch as she did so, her mind a swirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions and questions. This was what she had wanted, wasn't it? Of course it was. She had her future—her life—here in her hands. All she had to do—

And suddenly, without challenge or warning of any sort, her door slammed open.

She spun around in her chair, the pouch somehow getting away from startled fingers. Three Zhirrzh were already in her house—big Zhirrzh, wearing the sort of warrior fighting suits she'd seen in pictures and dramas—with more of them piling in through the door behind them. All were carrying short, vicious-looking weapons; all were wearing grim expressions.

Weapons and expressions that were pointed directly at her.

"What's going on?" she demanded. Or rather, tried to demand. Even in her own ear slits, her voice sounded as weak and thin as that of a sickly child. "What do you want?"

The lead warrior didn't bother to answer. Stepping into the kitchen, he reached a long arm down to the floor and retrieved the pouch she'd dropped. "Is this yours?" he asked, his voice as cold as the latearc air as he held it up.

For the first time Thrr-pifix-a focused on the pouch itself. To find, to her utter amazement, that it was indeed hers. There was her edgework, plain as a sunny fullarc, edgework she'd completed not five fullarcs ago.

But how in the eighteen worlds had it wound up at her door?

The warrior was still waiting for an answer. "Yes," she murmured, still staring at the pouch. Korthe or Dornt must have stolen it. That was the only explanation. They must have stolen it while they were here last fullarc. Without her even noticing.

"And this," the warrior said, holding it open for her inspection. "You want to tell us what you're doing with this?"

Thrr-pifix-a stared up at his face, a horrible twisting sensation knifing through her. Suddenly, suddenly, it was clear. She'd been set up. For whatever reason, she'd been set up. "I didn't take it," she whispered. "It was two young male Zhirrzh. Korthe and Dornt, they called themselves. They said they were members of an organization called Freedom of Decision for All."

"Uh-huh," the first warrior grunted, handing the pouch to another warrior. "Korthe and Dornt, from Freedom of Decision for All. Right."

"It's true," Thrr-pifix-a insisted. "Really. They said they'd get my fsss for me. And they did."

"And did they happen to mention to you that fsss theft is a grand-first felony?" another warrior put in harshly.

"That's enough," the first warrior said before Thrr-pifix-a could stammer an answer. "We'll check it out. In the meantime—" He fixed Thrr-pifix-a with cold eyes. "Thrr-pifix-a; Kee'rr, you're hereby charged with grand-first theft and placed under detention. By authority of the Overclan."

Thrr-pifix-a squeezed her eyes shut. She made no comment, offered no resistance, as they helped her up and took her out into the cold latearc air.

The messenger turned and left the chambers, closing the door behind her. "Well?" the Prime asked as Cvv-panav opened the message. Though he was pretty sure he already knew what was in it.

He was right. "As expected," Cvv-panav said, tossing the message casually onto the desk in front of the Prime. "My people have completed their mission." He eyed the Prime, his expression just short of gloating. "Without any successful interference from either the Thrr protectors or your warriors."

"As I've already told you, my warriors weren't there to interfere," the Prime reminded him.

"Of course they weren't," Cvv-panav said. "Well. According to this, my people observed your warriors enter Thrr-pifix-a's house and take her away in a transport. You should be getting a report on that yourself before long."

"No doubt," the Prime agreed. In actual fact the report had already come in, transmitted via the direct-link to his reader nearly ten hunbeats ago. But Cvv-panav didn't have to know that. "I presume that finishes the latearc's excitement. You'll be going home now, I expect."

Cvv-panav eyed him. "Unless you're ready to tell me about the weapon called CIRCE."

The Prime flicked his tongue in a negative. "CIRCE is a warrior secret, Speaker. As I've already told you."

"And as I've already told you, you'll tell me or you'll tell the entire Overclan Seating," Cvv-panav countered. "And all the Elders who'll be listening. I'm not bluffing."

"You'd threaten to bring down the entire Overclan system in the middle of a war?" the Prime asked.

"Why not?" Cvv-panav shot back. "You were prepared this latearc to destroy me and alienate the entire Dhaa'rr clan from the Overclan."

"The warriors were not there—"

"Spare me," Cvv-panav cut him off, standing up. "You've got until the Overclan Seating session next postmidarc to tell me about CIRCE. After that what happens will be on your own shoulders, Overclan Prime."

Without waiting for a reply he turned and stalked out of the chambers, slamming the door behind him.

"Well," the Eighteenth commented in the sudden silence. "That seemed to go well."

"Or at least as expected," the Prime said, unclenching his hands.

The Eighteenth peered at him. "You're not worried, are you?" he asked. "Everything's worked out exactly as planned."

"Except for how he's going to react," the Prime said, gesturing in the direction Cvv-panav had gone. "He's got enough pride and stubbornness for any six Zhirrzh. What if he doesn't fold?"

"He will," the Eighteenth assured him. "He'll fold because he's also ambitious. Ambitious Zhirrzh do not bring the target of their ambitions down in flames around them. Not if there are any other options still remaining."

"He won't forget this, though," the Prime said. "There'll be more trouble with him down the line."

"We have the Human-Conquerors arrayed against us," the Eighteenth reminded him grimly. "Under the circumstances I think one vindictive Clan Speaker will be the least of our worries."

The Prime nodded. "I hope so. Still... you never know."

19

The doors of both domes opened simultaneously, and two protectors stepped out to flank the flagstone path, their laser rifles at the ready. "This is it," Klnn-dawan-a murmured. "You ready?"

"As ready as I'm going to be," Thrr-gilag murmured from beside her. "I just hope this works. If it doesn't, we're going to be in a lot of trouble."

Klnn-dawan-a nodded silently. Actually, even if it did work, there was going to be a lot of trouble. It would merely fall in on them a little later.

But the option was to do nothing and let Prr't-zevisti die. If the Human-Conquerors hadn't killed him already.

"Halt and stand," the protector on the left said in the words of the ancient Dhaa'rr ritual. "Speak your names to the protectors of the Prr."

"We obey the protectors of the Prr," Klnn-dawan-a said, stopping between the twin racks of kavra fruit that flanked the path. "I am Klnn-dawan-a; Dhaa'rr."

"I am Thrr-gilag," Thrr-gilag said. "Kee'rr."

It seemed to Klnn-dawan-a that the protectors lifted their rifles just a little higher at Thrr-gilag's non-Dhaa'rr clan name. "How do you prove your goodwill?" the first protector demanded.

"With the rite of the kavra," Klnn-dawan-a said, selecting one of the fruit from the rack and slicing it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Thrr-gilag doing likewise. "We stand now defenseless before the protectors of Prr," she continued, dropping the lacerated kavra into the disposal container.

The protectors had watched the whole operation closely. Particularly Thrr-gilag's part of it. "And who will offer you welcome?" the first protector asked.

"A friend and colleague," Klnn-dawan-a said. "Prr't-casst-a; Dhaa'rr."

The protector frowned. "Advance, Klnn-dawan-a," he said, lowering his rifle to not quite point at them. "What do you mean by calling her a colleague?"

"We're doing a small sensory experiment with fsss organs," Klnn-dawan-a explained as she stepped away from Thrr-gilag and over to the protectors. "Prr't-casst-a has graciously volunteered to be one of our test subjects."

"What sort of experiment?" the second protector growled. "And do you have authorization?"

"Right here," Thrr-gilag said, holding out the forms they'd put together. "May I approach the protectors of Prr?"

The first protector didn't seem all that enthusiastic about it, but he nevertheless nodded. "Advance, Thrr-gilag."

Thrr-gilag rejoined Klnn-dawan-a and handed the protector the forms. Klnn-dawan-a watched as the other took them, striving hard to keep her tail motion steady. Right here was where this whole thing was most likely to come unraveled. The description/authorization forms were certainly official enough; the problem was that they were for experiments on non-Zhirrzh alien species like her cocooned Chig whelps back on Gree. If the protectors were suspicious enough or bored enough to read past the names and descriptions and get into the more detailed printing...

The first protector gestured to his partner as he glanced over the top page. "Give Prr't-casst-a call," he said. "Let's see what she has to say about this."

The other protector nodded and stepped back into his dome. A beat later his amplified voice echoed across the shrine enclosure, summoning Prr't-casst-a to the domes.

She was there almost before the echo of the loudspeaker had died away over the hills. "So you made it after all," she said, looking back and forth between Klnn-dawan-a and Thrr-gilag. "I didn't think you were going to have time."

"One of our other volunteers quit on us at the last hunbeat," Thrr-gilag said, pulling a small flat box from his waist pouch and lifting the lid. "We decided we had enough time to swing by here. If you'll clear us with your protectors, we can get started."

"Not so fast," the first protector growled, stepping forward and plucking the box from Thrr-gilag's hand. "I haven't been told anything about any experiments with Prr fsss organs."

"It's something new," Thrr-gilag told him. "A series of experiments to see if new sensory enhancements can be created for Elders. Don't worry, it's perfectly safe."

"We'll decide how safe it is, if you don't mind," the protector said, frowning at block of reddish gel and the spoon with its thick, cylindrically shaped handle occupying the two parallel compartments in the box. "What is this stuff?"

"The complete composition report is in the authorization," Klnn-dawan-a said, pointing at the forms he still had in his other hand. "Basically, you could say it's similar to a very spicy Ghuu'rr basting sauce."

The protector blinked at her. "You're kidding. A basting sauce?"

"That's rather an oversimplification, of course," Thrr-gilag said curtly, throwing a look at Klnn-dawan-a that had just the right edge of professional annoyance to it. She winced slightly in response, the look of a subordinate nonverbally reprimanded by a superior. The more the protectors had the impression that Thrr-gilag was the one in charge—and therefore the one to watch most closely—the better. "What she means is that the glaze is similar to a basting sauce in that it's rich with selected spices and olfactory enhancements," Thrr-gilag continued. "We're hoping this will be a way to add an extra dimension to Elder life. Look, it's all in the authorization, and it's all perfectly safe. And we really are on a tight schedule."

The protector thrust the box back at Thrr-gilag. "Prove it's safe," he challenged. "Eat some."

Thrr-gilag shrugged. "Certainly." Picking up the spoon, he scooped up a small portion of the gel and licked it off. "Perfectly safe," he said, holding the spoon poised for another scoop. "Rather tasty, actually. Would you like to try some?"

The protector made a face. "No, thanks," he said. "Prr't-casst-a, you sure you want to go through with this?"

"Very much," the Elder said, her voice low and with a quiet passion that required no acting at all on her part. "Please let them in."

The protector sighed. "All right, come on. Prr't-casst-a, go ahead and show us to your niche."

They headed off toward the shrine, Prr't-casst-a hovering in the lead, the second protector bringing up the rear. Klnn-dawan-a took a deep breath, not daring to look at Thrr-gilag and trying to exude a nonchalance she didn't feel. First stage: passed. Now all she had to do was hope this scheme she and Thrr-gilag had cooked up would work as well in practice as it did in theory. And that she could pull off her part of it.

Prr't-casst-a's niche was located about three strides up the northwestern wall of the shrine. Using a control set into one edge of the white ceramic, the first protector unfolded a mechanical top-tethered platform from the apex section at the peak. Just barely big enough for three, Klnn-dawan-a estimated as the motors brought it down to ground level. Which meant one of the protectors would probably insist on going along.

She was right. "I'll need to go up with you," the protector said, stepping through the gap in the guardrail onto the platform and moving to its right end.

"Other end, please," Thrr-gilag said, motioning him to the left side of the platform. "I need to be in the middle, with my assistant on my right."

The protector moved to the left end without comment. Klnn-dawan-a took up position at the right end, and Thrr-gilag squeezed in to stand between them. The protector gestured to his partner, and the platform began to rise. A few beats' worth of maneuvering later, they were there.

"Good," Thrr-gilag said briskly, handing the open box to Klnn-dawan-a and pulling a pair of healer's gloves from his pouch. "If you'll open the niche for us, Protector?"

Klnn-dawan-a winced at the loud snap as the protector released the catch and swung Prr't-casst-a's mesh door open. Incredibly loud things, obviously designed that way so as to alert protectors and Elders alike to any unauthorized tampering. Standing there with a protector half a stride away, she knew there wasn't a chance in the universe that she would be able to open the door to Prr't-zevisti's niche without being noticed.

But then, she wasn't planning on opening his door. In fact, she was hoping very much not to.

"Good," Thrr-gilag said again, wiggling his fingers as he checked the feel of his gloves and peering in through the opening at Prr't-casst-a's fsss. "If you'll hold that door open for me, Protector? Excellent. You ready, Klnn-dawan-a?"

"I'm ready," Klnn-dawan-a told him. In her left hand she held the box for him, its open lid strategically positioned where it would block the protector's view of Prr't-zevisti's niche. In her right hand, also hidden from the protector beneath the box, she held the spoon where Thrr-gilag could reach it.

"Prr't-casst-a?"

"I'm ready," the Elder said, hovering half in and half out of the shrine in front of Klnn-dawan-a. Ostensibly watching Thrr-gilag and the experiment, she was positioned where her transparent form would do what little it could to help conceal what was about to happen.

"All right, then," Thrr-gilag said. "Here we go." Getting a good grip on the spoon, he pulled it away from Klnn-dawan-a.

And as he did so, the spoon's end cap came loose in her grasp. Leaving her holding the end of the needle-tipped tissue sampler that had been hidden inside the spoon's thick handle.

"Here we go," Thrr-gilag said again, adjusting his grip on the spoon so that his hand was covering the missing end cap as he scooped up some of the red gel. "Okay, Prr't-casst-a. Tell me how this feels."

He began smoothing the gel onto Prr't-casst-a's fsss organ, the two of them keeping up a running barrage of questions and comments as he worked. But Klnn-dawan-a didn't really notice. Carefully, keeping it beneath the box, she turned the sampler around in her hand and eased the slender needle through the mesh into Prr't-zevisti's niche. Working by touch, she located the fsss organ. Then, bracing herself, she pressed the needle firmly against the hardened outer layer and began to push.

For a beat it didn't work. Then, abruptly, the outer layer yielded and the needle slid into the softer part inside. Klnn-dawan-a winced in sympathetic pain—surely this would have been a stab of agony to an Elder anchored here. But in this case, of course, Prr't-zevisti wasn't in any position to feel anything. Touching the button on the end of the sampler, she got it started.

It seemed to take forever before the gentle vibration stopped. If she and Thrr-gilag had done their calculations correctly, the sampler tube should now contain the same volume of fsss cells as a standardly cutting. Whether it would work the same way, though, was something they wouldn't know until they got the sampler to Thrr-mezaz on Dorcas. If then.

Second stage: passed. Now came possibly the most delicate part of all. Easing the sampler back toward her until the fsss was pressed up against the ceramic mesh, Klnn-dawan-a braced a corner of the box against the door and began a steady pull. If the needle was so tightly embedded that its removal threw her back against the guardrail, the protectors couldn't help but notice. Worse, if the pressure snapped the catch and the door swung open with the fsss still impaled on the needle...

And then, so suddenly that she was almost caught unprepared, the needle was free. Catching her balance, she quickly slid the sampler back into position beneath the box. A handful of Elders had drifted in to watch the experiment on Prr't-casst-a's fsss; she could only hope that none of them had happened to notice her part of it. If they had—

Abruptly, an Elder appeared in front of Thrr-gilag. "Are you Thrr-gilag; Kee'rr?" she demanded.

Out of the corner of her eye Klnn-dawan-a saw Thrr-gilag's tail twitch violently. "Yes," he said.

"Message for you," the Elder said, her voice curt. "Wait here."

She vanished. Thrr-gilag looked at Klnn-dawan-a, his tail under control, his face a little pinched. "That's all right," she told him, nodding once. "You were about finished with this test anyway, weren't you?"

His expression relaxed a fraction. "Yes," he agreed. He offered her the spoon under the box again, turning it around as he did so. Deftly, Klnn-dawan-a inserted the tip of the sampler into the casing and pushed the device firmly back into its hiding place. Taking the reassembled spoon from Thrr-gilag, she returned it to its compartment in the box and closed the lid.

And then the Elder was back. "You're ordered to return at once to Unity City," she told Thrr-gilag. "By order of the Overclan Prime. End of message."

Klnn-dawan-a looked at Thrr-gilag, caught his slight frown. "Message understood," he told the Elder. "Thank you."

The Elder vanished. "By order of the Overclan Prime?" the protector echoed. "I thought you said this was a small experiment."

"It is," Thrr-gilag said. "But there are other projects I'm also involved in."

The protector frowned at him; and then, suddenly, he got it. "Thrr-gilag; Kee'rr," he said. "Sure. You were the speaker for that searcher group on Base World Twelve. The ones with the alien prisoner."

"That's right," Thrr-gilag said. "Now, if you'll set us back down, please, I have to get a flight for Oaccanv."

For a long beat the protector gazed hard at Thrr-gilag's face, and for that same long beat Klnn-dawan-a was sure the scheme had collapsed. A searcher who specialized in alien studies would hardly be going around Dharanv putting basting sauce on fsss organs...

But to her relief the protector merely shrugged. "Sure," he said, swinging the mesh door down over Prr't-casst-a's niche and sealing it again. He looked over the guardrail and gestured to his partner, and the platform started down.

A hunbeat later they were walking down the flagstone path toward the predator-fence gate. "Well?" Prr't-casst-a muttered, hovering beside Klnn-dawan-a.

Klnn-dawan-a glanced around. There were no other Elders in sight. "We're all set," she said. "You can set up your secure pathway and tell Thrr-mezaz we've got it."

"I will." Prrt'-casst-a paused. "Thrr-gilag, what is this summons by the Overclan Prime?"

"I wouldn't worry about that," Thrr-gilag assured her with a confidence Klnn-dawan-a could tell he wasn't feeling. "I'm sure it doesn't have anything to do with this. I'll get that straightened out, then we'll try to find a way to get our little prize out to Thrr-mezaz."

"In the meantime, you need to keep up your pressure on the Dhaa'rr and Prr leaders to postpone or cancel the ritual of fire," Klnn-dawan-a added. "There's no way we can guarantee that what we've got will work the same way as a proper cutting."

"I'll try," Prr't-casst-a said, her voice trembling. "Klnn-dawan-a; Thrr-gilag... I don't know what to say. How to thank you..."

"You can start by getting that message to my brother," Thrr-gilag said, gently cutting her off. "And after that perhaps you'll get hold of a travel communicator for me. I need to catch the next flight out to Oaccanv and Unity City from this part of Dharanv."

"Right," Prr't-casst-a said, pulling herself back from the edge of maudlin sentiment with obvious effort. "Right away."

She vanished. "So," Thrr-gilag said, looking at Klnn-dawan-a. "Did you have any problems?"

"Not really," Klnn-dawan-a said, flicking her tongue in a negative. "It went more smoothly than I expected."

Thrr-gilag grunted. "I just hope it works," he said darkly. "I can't help thinking that if it was really this easy, they ought to be taking cuttings this way all the time."

Klnn-dawan-a shrugged. "Never underestimate the power of tradition," she reminded him. "Especially with Elders. Cuttings taken with knives work. That's how it's done; that's how it's always been done. That's good enough for most of them."

"You're probably right. If it works, maybe we'll write up a procedure paper on it sometime."

"Sure," Klnn-dawan-a said dryly. "What do you suppose the Overclan Prime wants?"

"Probably something to do with our mission to the Mrachanis," he said. "Maybe they're moving the departure up a few tentharcs or something."

They had passed the gate and were heading for the railcar stop when Prr't-casst-a reappeared. "I have the pathway to Thrr-mezaz," she said, her voice tight. "I sent the message, but he wants to speak to you."

"Sure," Thrr-gilag said, throwing a frown at Klnn-dawan-a. "Hello, my brother."

Prr't-casst-a vanished. "You think there's trouble?" Klnn-dawan-a asked hesitantly.

"Sounds like it," Thrr-gilag said. His expression was grim, his tail suddenly spinning faster. "I wonder if the Humans are up to something."

Prr't-casst-a returned. " 'Father's been trying to get hold of you for nearly two tentharcs, Thrr-gilag,' " she said without preamble. " 'You need to head back to Oaccanv immediately.' "

Thrr-gilag's hand groped for Klnn-dawan-a's, gripped it hard. "Is it about mother?" he asked.

The delay this time seemed to drag on forever. Klnn-dawan-a held tightly to Thrr-gilag's hand, her own tail spinning with tension. With the bulk of their attention focused first on the threat to their bond-engagement and then on this thing with Prr't-zevisti's fsss, she hadn't had a chance to get more than a rough idea of the problem with Thrr-gilag's mother. But she knew it involved Thrr-pifix-a's fsss and her reluctance to accept Eldership....

Prr't-casst-a returned. " 'He wouldn't say,' " she quoted Thrr-mezaz. " 'In fact, he really didn't tell me anything at all except that he needed to see one of us as quickly as possible. He was worried, though. Really worried. I could tell that much.' "

"He probably didn't trust the pathway he was on," Thrr-gilag said. "All right, look, I've just been summoned back to Unity City anyway. I'll try to find a way to get over to him."

Prr't-casst-a vanished, returned a hunbeat later. " 'All right. You want me to call him and let him know?' "

"Yes, you'd better," Thrr-gilag nodded. "You can get a much more secure pathway than I can. No telling what kind of leakage we'd get if I tried calling him from here."

Klnn-dawan-a looked at Prr't-casst-a, wondering if she would take that as an implied insult to the reliability of Prr Elders. But if she was offended, she didn't show it before vanishing again. Maybe she was too preoccupied with her own troubles to notice. Or maybe she'd done her fair share of Elder gossiping and knew that Thrr-gilag was right.

Prr't-casst-a returned. " 'All right. Any idea how you're going to deliver your package to me?' "

"Not yet," Thrr-gilag said.

"Actually, I have an idea," Klnn-dawan-a spoke up. "We'll discuss it and get word back to you."

Prr't-casst-a looked a bit confused. "Do I repeat all of that?"

"Yes," Thrr-gilag told her. "Just make it clear along the pathway that Klnn-dawan-a said the second part."

"All right."

She vanished. "What idea is this?" Thrr-gilag asked Klnn-dawan-a.

"That I go out to Dorcas and deliver it to him," Klnn-dawan-a said. "With the leaders still making up their minds about our bond-engagement, I haven't got much else to do right now anyway."

"So naturally you want to spend this free time in a war zone?"

"Don't be sarcastic, dear," she chided. "And don't argue, either. You know as well as I do it's the only way. You have to get back to Oaccanv and get ready for your mission. And there's no one else we can trust with this."

Thrr-gilag made a face at her, but in his eyes she could see he knew she was right. That was one of the things she liked most about him: the fact that he judged other people's ideas against exactly the same standards and criteria as he did his own. "It is a war zone, though," he reminded her. "How would you get them to let you in?"

"There are a couple of ways," she said. "Best chance would be—"

She broke off as Prr't-casst-a reappeared. " 'The sooner the better. Things are beginning to happen here. I have to go now, my brother. Keep yourself safe, and I'll speak with you again soon.' "

"Right," Thrr-gilag murmured. "Farewell, my brother." He took a deep breath, nodded to Prr't-casst-a. "Deliver that message, then release the pathway. Then get me that travel communicator."

"I will," Prr't-casst-a said, and disappeared.

Klnn-dawan-a looked at Thrr-gilag. "What's the matter?" she asked him.

"I don't know," he said slowly, his face troubled. "Just the way he said that, about things beginning to happen there. It didn't sound good."

"You want to get the pathway back and ask him?"

Thrr-gilag's tongue flicked in a negative. "No. If he could talk about it, he would have." He waved a hand, as if trying to brush the thoughts and worries away. "Never mind that. He's a warrior; he knows what he's doing. You were telling me how you were going to get to Dorcas."

"I was saying the best way might be for me to collect some personal messages or items for Thrr-mezaz's second commander, Klnn-vavgi. He's a distant cousin of mine, remember."

"I didn't think you knew him very well."

"I don't," Klnn-dawan-a said. "But that doesn't matter. Close family or distant cousin are all the same to the Dhaa'rr. And personal messages are traditionally to be delivered by hand."

"Even in a war zone?"

"Even in a war zone. So. I can get regular passage from here to the Dhaa'rr routing center on Shamanv, and from there I should be able to get a ride on a supply ship headed out to Dorcas."

Thrr-gilag pondered that. "That should get you to orbit, anyway. But what if they won't let you land?"

"I'll just have to count on Thrr-mezaz to get me past that one."

They'd reached the railcar stop. "I don't like it," Thrr-gilag said, opening the door of the first car in line on the siding and ushering her inside. "But right now I can't see any better way to do it. All right. As soon as Prr't-casst-a finds us a travel communicator, we'll check on flights to Shamanv."

"Good," Klnn-dawan-a said as he sat down beside her and keyed in his value number and their destination. The car beeped, and they were off.

It was a good idea, she knew, her going off to Dorcas like this. The best delivery plan either of them had. Probably the best plan either of them were going to have.

But that didn't mean she had to like it. She'd faced the crossbows of a Chig war party and had had enough good luck to escape without being raised prematurely to Eldership. Whether that good luck would hold her against the far deadlier weapons of Human-Conqueror warriors wasn't a question she particularly wanted to test.

"You don't have to do this," Thrr-gilag said quietly from beside her. "We can find some other way."

"No," Klnn-dawan-a said, taking his hand again. "We all have responsibilities in life. Prr't-zevisti is a Dhaa'rr, and so am I. This is something I have to do."

Gently, he leaned over and touched her face with his tongue. "That's one of the things I really love about you, Klnn-dawan-a," he murmured. "That you're always willing to do what needs to be done."

She squeezed his hand hard. "Just keep telling me that."

20

"The Imperative picked it up about ten hunbeats ago," Klnn-vavgi said, pointing to the hazy image on the monitor. "It didn't show up on our own monitors until just a couple of hunbeats ago."

Thrr-mezaz frowned at the image. A small Human-Conqueror aircraft, framed against the mountains it was coming in from. "Must be going pretty slow."

"Slow and high both," Klnn-vavgi said. "Not exactly your optimum profile for sneaking in on someone."

"Rather implies they want us to see them."

"That would be my guess, too," Klnn-vavgi nodded. "Question is, are they serious or just a distraction?"

"That's the question, all right," Thrr-mezaz agreed, throwing a quick look around the room at the other monitors. A half-dozen Zhirrzh aircraft were in the air ready to intercept, all ground defenses were activated and standing ready, all warriors were on full alert.

And across the landing field in their converted storehouse, oblivious to all the activity going on around them, the two Mrachanis were resting quietly....

"It's the Mrachanis," Thrr-mezaz said. "They saw the spacecraft land, and this is their response."

"Pretty fast reaction," Klnn-vavgi grunted. "You could be right, though. But it brings us right back to question one: what are they up to?"

Thrr-mezaz gazed at the image on the monitor, trying to put himself in the Human-Conquerors' commander's place. All right. He knew a Mrachani spacecraft had landed on Dorcas; one of his aircraft had observed the aliens' landing from a respectful distance. He'd had nearly five tentharcs now to mull over that fact, and to come up with this response. Whatever it was.

And the tone of the response might well indicate whether he considered the Mrachanis to be captive allies to be rescued or dangerous enemies to be destroyed.

Thrr-mezaz stepped over to the Stingbird monitor. "How many Stingbirds do we have in the air?" he asked.

"Four," the warrior at the monitor said. "The rest are standing ready and awaiting orders."

"Put them all up," Thrr-mezaz ordered. "Have them form a defense perimeter twenty thoustrides outside the village. They're to be alert for any Human-Conqueror activity."

"I obey, Commander," the warrior answered, setting to work.

"That goes for the Elders, too," Thrr-mezaz added, looking up at the Elders hovering overhead. "They're to keep close watch on all ground approaches."

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

Thrr-mezaz stepped back to Klnn-vavgi. "Let's see how easily they can be scared off," he commented.

"You think it's a feint, then?" Klnn-vavgi asked.

"Actually, no, I don't," Thrr-mezaz told him. "I don't think they're going to be scared off, either. My guess is that that aircraft is on its way here to rescue our Mrachani guests. Or else to try to kill them."

"Really," Klnn-vavgi said, eying his commander. "A wide range of options, I must say. I trust you aren't going to allow them to do either."

"We're certainly going to try to stop them," Thrr-mezaz assured him. "On the other hand, whichever attempt they make should tell us something about their relationship with the Mrachanis."

Klnn-vavgi rubbed thoughtfully at the side of his face. "I don't know, Thrr-mezaz," he murmured. "Sounds to me like a pretty big risk. We're nowhere near knowing the full extent of Human-Conqueror weapons technology. And Warrior Command isn't going to be at all happy if you lose their Mrachani prisoners for them."

"True," Thrr-mezaz said. "On the other hand, the Overclan Seating is about to send an expedition out to the Mrachani homeworld anyway. Plenty of Mrachanis there for them to talk to." He gestured to the slowly approaching aircraft. "Besides, the Human-Conquerors don't have any idea where our guests are. They're going to have to land first and find some clever way to ask for directions."

"What if they just swoop overhead, drop some really high explosives, and obliterate the whole village?"

"If they had that capability, I think they'd probably have used it long before now," Thrr-mezaz said dryly. "No, we're taking some risk with this, but not as much as it looks."

"Well, you're the commander," Klnn-vavgi said. "In the meantime, that Human-Conqueror aircraft is getting closer. About time we ran all this past Warrior Command?"

"Right." Thrr-mezaz looked up. "Communicator?"

Thrr-mezaz had expected the aircraft to do at least one surveillance circle over the village before putting down. To his mild surprise it came straight in to the western part of the landing field, putting to ground a respectful distance from both the Mrachani spacecraft and the hangar-size building where the Zhirrzh had set up their own aircraft service facilities. Apparently the Human-Conquerors aboard hadn't considered it necessary to look the place over first.

Or rather, the Human-Conqueror, singular. It was a lone enemy warrior who emerged from the small aircraft into the waiting semicircle of Zhirrzh warriors, his hands outstretched and empty of weapons.

"Just one?" Klnn-vavgi murmured at Thrr-mezaz's side as they stood in the long postmidarc shadows beside the headquarters building, fifty strides southeast of the aircraft. "At least the Mrachanis sent us two."

"Maybe there are more inside," Thrr-mezaz said. "I'll have someone take a look."

The Human-Conqueror was speaking now. A few beats later the translator-link in Thrr-mezaz's ear slits came to life. "I am Srgent-janovetz of the Commonwealth Peacekeepers. I have come to discuss (something) terms with the commander of the Zhirrzh."

One of the warriors stepped forward with a jumpsuit draped around his neck. "You will wear this," he instructed the alien, his words coming faintly across the distance.

An Elder appeared at Thrr-mezaz's left, hidden from the Human-Conqueror's view by the headquarters building. "We have searched the enemy warrior, Commander," he reported. "He is carrying no obvious weapons."

"Understood," Thrr-mezaz said. Though that was of only limited comfort. As Klnn-vavgi had pointed out earlier, there was a lot they didn't know about Human-Conqueror weaponry. "What about other devices?"

"He carries several," the Elder said. "One of them is particularly troubling: a short, flat device that has been inserted into his body."

Thrr-mezaz frowned across the field at the Human-Conqueror, midway through the job of changing out of his clothing. "Where inside his body?"

"Just here," the Elder said, pointing a faint tongue at the left side of Thrr-mezaz's own face. "It seems to have been inserted beneath the skin, between the mouth area and the ear appendages."

"Odd sort of placement," Klnn-vavgi said. "Did you examine it?"

"We did," the Elder said, nodding. "None could decipher its purpose. But many of us suspect it to be a weapon."

"Let's not leap to conclusions quite yet," Thrr-mezaz cautioned. "It could be any number of other things. A timed chemical drip, perhaps, or something else healer-implanted."

The Elder snorted. "Do not allow yourself to be fooled, Commander," he said. "Aliens can be very clever. Let me tell you some of the things we found being used as weapons during the third assault on the Isintorxi homeland—"

"We'll be careful," Thrr-mezaz cut him off, not really in any mood to listen to a history lecture. "Come on, Second, let's go see what our new prisoner has to say for himself."

The Human-Conqueror was just sealing up his jumpsuit as Thrr-mezaz and Klnn-vavgi reached the group of warriors surrounding him. "I'm Commander Thrr-mezaz; Kee'rr," Thrr-mezaz identified himself. "Why are you here?"

The optronic speaker on his shoulder gave out the Human-Conqueror translation. The Human-Conqueror spoke again—"I am Srgent-janovetz. I have come to discuss (something) terms."

"We don't understand all your words," Thrr-mezaz said. "Please rephrase."

The translation was made, and the Human-Conqueror seemed to consider. Then he spoke again. "I am here to ask what must be done for us to stop fighting for a while with each other."

Thrr-mezaz glanced at Klnn-vavgi. "Are you asking for terms of surrender?"

Srgent-janovetz's face changed as the translation came through. "No, not surrender," the translator-link said. "Just to stop fighting for a time."

Thrr-mezaz flicked his tongue in a negative. Srgent-janovetz seemed to flinch back at the gesture. "And what purpose would such a partial surrender serve?"

Again the Human-Conqueror seemed to consider. He spoke—"We saw that you have taken new prisoners. Since you are unfamiliar with our species, we would like to ask permission to treat any injuries they may have."

Thrr-mezaz smiled grimly. There it was; and he'd called it straight down the line. The Human-Conquerors wanted a crack at the Mrachanis. "Our new guests are not Human-Conquerors," he said. "Nor are they prisoners."

Srgent-janovetz's face changed again as he spoke. "We are called Humans," the translation came. "What was the word you used for us?"

"I called you Human-Conquerors," Thrr-mezaz said. "It means—"

And without warning a brilliant flash of light came from across the landing field to the northeast.

"Cover!" Thrr-mezaz snapped as the sharp crack of the explosion slapped across them. He leaped into the partial cover of the Human-Conqueror aircraft, Klnn-vavgi right beside him. Crouching down, he peered out past the aircraft's beak, just in time to get his midlight pupils dazzled by the flash of a second explosion. He twisted his head away with a curse; but he'd gotten enough of a look to locate the focal point of the attack.

The Mrachanis' storehouse.

"Communicators: full attack alert," he shouted as a third explosion flashed reflected light from the nearby buildings, the sound hammering into his ear slits. "Tell the warriors guarding the Mrachanis to get them out of there and to cover."

He got a faint shout of acknowledgment and threw a quick look around him. Two of the Zhirrzh warriors had the Human-Conqueror facedown on the ground; the others had unslung their laser rifles and were kneeling around the base of the aircraft, weapons swinging around uncertainly as they searched for something to use them on. Thrr-mezaz looked back toward the storehouse, wondering how in the eighteen worlds the Human-Conquerors had slipped this much attack power past his aircraft and Elders. From another edge of the landing field one of the ground defenses opened fire, sizzling rapid-fire laser pulses into the air in half a dozen directions. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the faint sound of laser rifles joining in—

"Commander!" An Elder appeared in front of Thrr-mezaz. "The warriors at the Mrachani storehouse are down!"

Thrr-mezaz swore under his breath. "Second, stay here and watch the prisoner," he ordered Klnn-vavgi. "Keep one warrior. The rest of you, come with me. Elders, find out where this cursed attack is coming from."

A fourth explosion lit up the landscape as he ducked under the beak of the aircraft and headed at a stooped-over run toward the Mrachanis' storehouse, the warriors fanning out around him on both sides. A pretty stupid tactic, running straight-out toward an obvious target zone this way, but there was no time for subtlety or finesse. Locked in their storehouse, the Mrachanis were as helpless as sleeping nornins before the Human-Conqueror assault. They wouldn't stand a chance if someone didn't get them out of there immediately.

No more explosions came before they made it to the storehouse. Bracing himself, trying to watch the sky in all directions, Thrr-mezaz led the way around the corner to the east wall where the building's doors were located.

Or rather, where the building's doors had once been located. One of the twin panels was hanging loosely by its top hinge, its lower section bent and blackened. The other door was on the ground, shattered into a hundred metal shards.

And sprawled amid the wreckage were the bodies of the two warriors who'd been on guard duty.

Raised to Eldership.

Thrr-mezaz grimaced. Two more early newcomers for the family shrines. Something else for Speaker Cvv-panav and the Dhaa'rr to blame him for. "Come on," he told his warriors. Picking his way through the splinters, preparing himself for the worst, he went inside.

It was bad, but not nearly as bad as he'd feared. There were three good-sized holes in the north wall, and the storehouse itself was filled with smoke and dust. But aside from that there seemed to be little damage. More important, the two Mrachanis were huddled together beneath a table, obviously shaken but apparently unharmed.

They caught sight of the Zhirrzh and called something, their voices trembling oddly. Thrr-mezaz stepped toward them, waiting for the translation—

"Relay's gone," one of the warriors spoke up, pointing toward the spot on the wall where the darklight relay had been hanging.

"Probably knocked down by the vibrations," Thrr-mezaz said. "Go see if you can find it. The rest of you, get the Mrachanis out of here."

The warriors moved off toward their tasks. Thrr-mezaz took a last look around and then stepped outside the broken doors again. "Communicator?" he called.

An Elder appeared. "Report," Thrr-mezaz said.

"We've found no sign of any Human-Conqueror warriors," the Elder said, his voice tight. "But—"

"What do you mean, no sign?" Thrr-mezaz demanded. "None at all?"

"None at all," the Elder said. "No Human-Conquerors, no weapons emplacements, no vehicles."

Thrr-mezaz looked around. "What were the warriors shooting at, then?"

"I don't know, Commander," the Elder said tartly. "Possibly their own shadows. Wherever the Human-Conquerors were, though, they seem to have gone."

Thrr-mezaz frowned, listening. The Elder was right; there hadn't been anything since that fourth explosion. "We must have scared them off."

"Or else they just didn't want to give us enough time to locate their attack site," the Elder said darkly. "Conveniently allowing them to use it again."

Thrr-mezaz eyed the Elder. He was angry, all right. Angry down to his core, and impatient and frustrated besides. One of those Zhirrzh warrior veterans who selectively remembered his own service to be exemplary and perfect, and fully expected the warriors who'd followed him to be likewise. "Perhaps," Thrr-mezaz said. "On the other hand, maybe the explanation is much simpler. Alert all aircraft and perimeter warriors to continue to keep watch."

"I obey," the Elder growled.

Thrr-mezaz glanced back across the landing field. "And tell the technics to get the interpreter going again."

The Elder vanished. A beat later the warriors and Mrachanis emerged from the damaged storehouse, the latter still gabbling in that same trembling tone of voice as they came toward Thrr-mezaz.

"We've got their luggage together, too, Commander," one of the warriors spoke up. "Where do you want us to take them?"

"There's a small subroom in the northwest corner of the aircraft service building," Thrr-mezaz said. "Take them there and put them under full guard. And I mean fall guard."

"I obey, Commander."

From the corner of his eye he saw a darklight beam flick on from across the landing field: the interpreter was back in operation. "Hold it a beat," he told the warriors, turning to the chief Mrachani. "Lahettilas, the warriors are taking you to a new building. You should be safe there."

The chief Mrachani didn't even wait for the translation to come. He clutched at Thrr-mezaz's arm, babbling in that same trembling voice. "Did you see what the Humans did?" the translation demanded in Thrr-mezaz's ear slits. "They tried to destroy us."

"Yes, I saw," Thrr-mezaz agreed. "But they're no longer here, and we're—"

"We are not safe here, Commander of the Zhirrzh," Lahettilas cut him off. "Not anywhere on Dorcas. The Humans must know of our mission to the Zhirrzh. They will try again to kill us. Unless we are taken out of their reach. Commander of the Zhirrzh, I insist we be taken to a Zhirrzh world immediately."

"I understand your concerns, Lahettilas," Thrr-mezaz said, striving for patience. "But for right now, that's impossible. I'll speak to the Overclan Prime, though, and see what can be done."

"That will do no good," the Mrachani insisted. "I insist you send word to your homeworld."

Thrr-mezaz stared hard into the soft, alien face. "Let's get one thing straight right now, Lahettilas," he said coldly. "You and your companion are not in any position to insist on anything."

The alien face changed. More strikingly, so did his voice. Instead of the trembling tone, it was suddenly quiet and soothing. "I am sorry, Commander of the Zhirrzh," the translation came. "We understand that we are at your complete (something). I am (something) because I am afraid that we will die."

"I understand that," Thrr-mezaz said. Somehow this new voice of his was more irritating than the previous one had been. It reminded him of the condescending tone one of his teachers had used back in school whenever someone got the answer wrong. "We'll do whatever we can to protect you."

Lahettilas bowed half-over. "I understand, Commander of the Zhirrzh. We will trust you."

"Someone will be in to talk to you later," Thrr-mezaz said, catching the eye of one of the warriors and gesturing toward the aircraft service building. The warrior nodded and gestured to the others, and together they steered the Mrachanis across the landing field. Keeping the bulk of his attention on the sky, Thrr-mezaz headed off at an angle from their path back toward the Human-Conqueror aircraft.

Srgent-janovetz was sitting on the ground when he arrived, watching the Mrachanis out of the corner of his eye. "Is the attack over?" Klnn-vavgi asked.

"It seems to be," Thrr-mezaz said, reaching a hand up to block the darklight interpreter-link. "For now, anyway. Prisoner give you any trouble?"

"None," Klnn-vavgi said. "He stayed right where he was told to the whole time. Didn't even sit up, in fact, until I prodded him to do so."

Srgent-janovetz was looking up at him now. "Was he doing anything that maybe didn't really qualify as trouble?" Thrr-mezaz asked. "Any hand or leg movements, for example?"

"Nothing that I noticed," Klnn-vavgi said.

"Um." Thrr-mezaz withdrew his hand from the interpreter-link. "As you can see," he said to Srgent-janovetz, pointing across at the Mrachanis, "your warriors missed their target. They're still alive."

The Human-Conqueror's face changed as the translation came through. He spoke—"I know nothing about that attack. I came here to speak about (something) terms."

"So you said," Klnn-vavgi said. "Events seem to be indicating otherwise. Why do you want to kill the Mrachanis?"

"We don't," Srgent-janovetz protested. "The Mrachanis aren't our enemies."

Thrr-mezaz reached a hand to the interpreter-link again. "What do you think?" he asked Klnn-vavgi.

"What's there to think?" Klnn-vavgi countered, blocking his own link. "Those sure weren't our explosives raining down on us."

Thrr-mezaz glanced back at the damaged storehouse. "Yes, but how did they do it? Neither the Elders nor anyone else was able to find any trace of an attack site. Nor did they see anything coming in across the village perimeter."

Klnn-vavgi shrugged. "Maybe you were right about the Human-Conquerors having a network of underground tunnels, and the Elders just haven't found them yet." He looked pointedly up at the aircraft beside them. "Or maybe they had everything they needed already inside the perimeter."

"Yes, I was thinking the same thing a hunbeat ago," Thrr-mezaz told him, eying the aircraft. "Problem is, we're southwest of the building right here, but all four explosions were on the east and north walls. How could they have gotten their projectiles to go around corners that way? Especially projectiles small enough that we couldn't spot them?"

"I don't know." Klnn-vavgi looked down at the Human-Conqueror still sitting on the ground. "I do know, though, that we shouldn't be discussing this in front of the prisoner. They may have picked up more of our language than we know."

"Good point." Thrr-mezaz gestured a pair of warriors over. "Any suggestions on where to put him?"

"The storehouse springs to mind," Klnn-vavgi said dryly. "Let's see how he likes it there when his friends start firing again."

"Tempting, but impractical," Thrr-mezaz said. "The place has no doors left. Not to mention three brand-new exits."

"How about the Optronics supply room, then?" Klnn-vavgi suggested. "After we've pulled all the Optronics out of it, of course."

Thrr-mezaz considered. It was a little risky—the room was in the same building as the interpreter and was near other sensitive equipment. But the prisoner should be safe enough there until they could come up with something a little more permanent. "Fine," he told Klnn-vavgi. "Go ahead and get that set up for him. And detail some warriors to start converting some of the private homes in the village into guest quarters. Seal over the windows and secondary exits—you know what I mean."

Klnn-vavgi nodded. "I'll get right to it. If we're going to keep getting company, I suppose we might as well have a real place to put them."

"Right." Thrr-mezaz looked up at the aircraft. "And while they're doing that, have the technics start on this thing. I want to know about everything that's in there. Especially anything that could possibly be a weapon."

The sun had set in the west, and the long shadows were fading into a general dimness along the ground. Thrr-mezaz stepped carefully across the broken storehouse door, wincing as the shards crackled beneath his feet. Two Zhirrzh warriors had been raised to Eldership at this spot. Two warriors under his command...

He stepped into the storehouse, lowlight pupils widening to adjust to the gloom. A half-dozen warriors were at work inside, cleaning up the wreckage. The one he was looking for was over by one of the holes in the north wall: Vstii-suuv, one of his two climbing companions on that abortive attempt to penetrate Human-Conqueror territory two fullarcs ago.

Thrr-mezaz walked over to him. "Rather a mess, isn't it?" he commented.

Vstii-suuv straightened up from where he'd been crouching. "It certainly is," he agreed.

Thrr-mezaz gestured to take in the room. "So what's the consensus? Any ideas how the Human-Conquerors did it?"

"Not really." Vstii-suuv flicked his tongue in an annoyed negative. "I suppose it's possible they could have used missiles or projectiles that were small enough to sneak in without any of us seeing them. But I really don't like that theory."

"I know what you mean," Thrr-mezaz agreed, looking at the debris around the blast hole. "If they had an explosive this powerful, why haven't we seen them use it before?"

"Right," Vstii-suuv nodded. "And it's not nuclear, either. It would have left radiation behind."

"Still, just because they haven't used it before doesn't mean they don't have it," Thrr-mezaz said, gingerly touching the splintered wood at the edge of the hole. Fairly thin wood, actually, but the damage was still impressive. "We'll have to check and see if any of the other beachheads has come under this kind of attack. Should there be that many wood splinters out there?"

"I have no idea," Vstii-suuv said, stepping closer to the hole and peering at the ground outside. "But you can see there are a lot of splinters inside, too."

"True," Thrr-mezaz agreed, stepping back away from the hole. "One of the few halfway positive side effects of warfare: everyone learns so much along the way. We're certainly going to learn a lot about explosions and explosives by the time this is over."

"How about talking to the guards who were raised to Eldership when the door was destroyed?" Vstii-suuv suggested. "They might be able to tell you more about what happened."

"I've already tried getting a pathway to them," Thrr-mezaz said. "Unfortunately, they're both still twisted in anchoring shock. No telling when they'll come out of it, either—we're a long way from the eighteen worlds." He lowered his voice a bit. "The main reason I stopped by was to let you know that we're going to be doing another climb soon. Probably sometime in the next four or five fullarcs."

Vstii-suuv's midlight pupils narrowed. "You have something to take up there?"

"We will soon," Thrr-mezaz said, mindful of the other Zhirrzh in the room and the Elders floating around nearby. However Thrr-gilag had managed to pull off his illegal cutting of Prr't-zevisti's fsss, the theft seemed to be undetected as yet. He wanted to keep it that way as long as possible. "Anyway, pass the word on to Qlaa-nuur."

"I obey, Commander," Vstii-suuv said firmly. "We'll be ready whenever you want us."

"Good."

Thrr-mezaz took a few steps away from the wall, crunching wood shards underfoot, feeling a frown settling across his face as he looked around the open area. Something about this whole thing didn't feel right, somehow. "Communicator?"

An Elder appeared. "Yes, Commander?"

"Who was watching the Mrachanis when the Human-Conqueror attack began?" Thrr-mezaz asked.

"As it happens, I was," the Elder said.

"Who was with you?"

"Actually, I was alone," the Elder said. "The other two had been pulled off for perimeter sentry duty."

"I see," Thrr-mezaz said, making a mental note to discuss proper priorities later with the Elders' speaker. "Can you tell me what exactly the Mrachanis were doing when the first explosion occurred?"

"I've already been through this with the speaker—" The Elder broke off at the look on Thrr-mezaz's face. "They weren't doing anything in particular, Commander," he said. "Just sitting there at the table."

"The same table we found them hiding beneath?"

"Yes," the Elder said. "They were just talking together when the door blew up."

Thrr-mezaz looked across at the table. It was fairly close to where the darklight relay had been hanging. "Go to the interpreter room and find out for me what they were talking about."

"I can tell you right now, Commander: we don't know," the Elder said. "They'd accidentally covered over the darklight relay a few hunbeats earlier."

"What do you mean, accidentally covered it over?"

"The Mrachanis had hung out decorative cloths at various points along the walls," the Elder explained. "One of them happened to be over the relay."

Which meant the technics had no recording of the aliens' conversation. How very convenient for someone. "And you didn't think it worth telling one of the warriors about?"

The Elder was starting to look a little uncomfortable. "The alert had been sounded, Commander," he said. "Everyone's attention was out at the perimeter or on the approaching Human-Conqueror aircraft. I didn't think it was vital that it be fixed immediately. And anyway, I was watching them. They couldn't have done anything."

"Except that they could have—"

Thrr-mezaz broke off, his lungs tightening into an almost-gasp. Abruptly, for the briefest flicker of a shattered beat, a strange and dizzying tingle had splashed across his mind—

And in front of him the Elder screamed, his face contorted with agony and fear.

And suddenly Thrr-mezaz knew what had happened.

"Commander!" one of the warriors shouted from across the room. "What—?"

"Elderdeath weapon!" Thrr-mezaz shouted back, fighting off the residual disorientation. "Full alert: all warriors."

Another Elder appeared. "Commander, Second Commander Klnn-vavgi requests your presence immediately in the command/monitor room," he reported, his voice tightly controlled. "He asks permission to lift the Stingbirds into defensive positions."

Thrr-mezaz looked at the holes in the storehouse walls. "Give him permission," he told the Elder. "Then tell him to collect some warriors and meet me at the Optronics supply room."

The Human-Conqueror was standing against the back wall of his temporary cell when the Zhirrzh warriors arrived. Still alert, still fully dressed. Almost as if he'd been expecting them. "Tell me where it is," Thrr-mezaz said without preamble. "Now."

The Human-Conqueror's face changed as the translation came through, the ridges of short hairs over his eyes pressing closer together. "Where what is?" his reply came in Thrr-mezaz's ear slits.

Thrr-mezaz flicked his tongue in contempt. With the deceit unmasked he could have hoped the Human-Conqueror would at least be reasonable about it. "The Elderdeath weapon," he bit out. "The one you or your warriors just used against us. Is it aboard your aircraft, or are there other warriors nearby?"

The prisoner's face remained the same. "I heard the shouts, but whatever happened wasn't our doing. And I don't know anything about this—what did you call it? The Elderdeath weapon?"

"Don't act stupid," Klnn-vavgi snarled. "You know what the commander's talking about."

"And we know you know," Thrr-mezaz added. "Furthermore, we're prepared to do whatever is necessary to—"

And suddenly there it was again: an abrupt flicker of disorientation tingling through his head, sharper this time, with an edge of pain to it. He darted a hand to the door frame for support against the flash of dizziness, dimly aware of the Human-Conqueror still standing against his wall. Beside him Klnn-vavgi shouted something; a half-dozen laser rifles swung up toward the prisoner—

"Hold!" Thrr-mezaz snapped. "Don't fire."

The rifle muzzles paused uncertainly. "Commander?" Klnn-vavgi demanded.

"I said don't fire." The last of the dizziness faded away, and Thrr-mezaz straightened to face the prisoner again.

The Human-Conqueror was still standing there, making no move to take any advantage of his enemies' sudden weakness. Observing their reaction, perhaps? "By all rights I should kill you for that," Thrr-mezaz told him. "I should have let them shoot you down right there. I trust you realize that."

"Whatever happened to you wasn't my fault," the prisoner said, his voice quiet. Almost earnest. Almost believable.

Almost. "Fine," Thrr-mezaz said. "If that's the way you want to play it." He turned to Klnn-vavgi. "Second, I want you to collect some technics and go take another look at that aircraft. And give the healers a call—I want that device hidden under the skin on his face to be removed."

He turned back at the Human-Conqueror. "You can cooperate or not. It's your choice."

For a long beat the alien gazed back at him. Then his face seemed to twitch. "All right," he said. "But there's no need for healers."

He reached both hands up to his face, to the side where the Elders had discovered the hidden device. The laser rifles lifted again in warning as, slowly and carefully, he began to peel away a section of his skin.

Klnn-vavgi muttered an awed-sounding curse under his breath as the flap of loose skin grew larger. Thrr-mezaz nodded his agreement; Thrr-gilag had never mentioned anything about Human-Conquerors being able to do that.

The edge of the device was visible now: small and flat, very much the same color as the Human-Conqueror's skin but easily distinguishable by the differences in its darklight radiance. He finished with the flap of skin and dropped it onto the bed in front of him; then, just as carefully, he peeled the device itself from its place.

"Drop it on the bed," Thrr-mezaz ordered him. "And then stand away from it."

The prisoner did as instructed. Thrr-mezaz gestured, and one of the warriors gingerly retrieved both the device and the skin flap and handed them over.

"Ycch," Klnn-vavgi growled deep in his throat. "Did you see that, Commander? He just ripped it right off his—"

"It's not skin," Thrr-mezaz said.

"What?"

"It's not skin," Thrr-mezaz repeated, turning it over. "At least not his own skin. See? No blood anywhere."

"Well, I'll be cursed," Klnn-vavgi said, peering closer. "That's an incredibly good imitation."

"I'm sure that was the intent." Thrr-mezaz looked up at the prisoner. "This must have been pretty important for your technics to have gone to so much work to hide it," he commented, hefting the skin-colored device in his other hand. "What is it?"

The Human-Conqueror shook his head back and forth to the side. "It's not a weapon."

"What is it?"

The other remained silent. "Fine," Thrr-mezaz said. "We'll figure it out for ourselves."

He gestured, and together the warriors left the room, locking it securely behind them. "Guard posts as previously," he ordered the warriors when they were out in the cool latearc air again. "Well, Second. Comments?"

"Ten to one it's our Elderdeath weapon," Klnn-vavgi said sourly.

"Yes," Thrr-mezaz murmured, gazing down at the device in his hand. "Perhaps."

"You don't sound convinced."

Thrr-mezaz shrugged. "Oh, you're probably right. It's just that the whole exercise seems to have been pretty futile. Yes, they got us stirred up a little, but that's about it. There was no attack on us, no further attack on the Mrachanis, not even an attempt by the prisoner to break out. So what did it gain them?"

"Information, maybe," Klnn-vavgi suggested. "They know now what levels it takes to affect us."

"They knew that after the first battle," Thrr-mezaz countered. "No, there's something here we're not getting. I just wish we had some idea what it was."

For a beat they stood there in silence. Then, with a sigh, Thrr-mezaz dropped the device and fake skin flap into Klnn-vavgi's hand. "Anyway. See what the technics can make of these."

"Right," Klnn-vavgi said. "You still want them to look at the aircraft, too?"

"Oh, yes," Thrr-mezaz confirmed grimly. "I want them to get in there and tear it apart. Down to individual molecules, if that's what it takes."

"And the prisoner?"

Thrr-mezaz looked back at the warriors standing guard. "The same goes for him," he said. "Something's going on here, Klnn-vavgi. It's time we found out what that something is."

21

There was an Elder waiting as Thrr-gilag came in through the side entrance of the Overclan complex. An Elder whose face was set in transparent stone. "You are Thrr-gilag; Kee'rr?" he demanded.

"Yes," Thrr-gilag said, holding up his pass for inspection. "I was told to come here—"

"I know," the Elder cut him off. "The Overclan Prime awaits you in his private chambers. Follow me."

Without waiting for a reply he set off down the corridor. Thrr-gilag followed, his tail spinning nervously behind him. There was trouble in the air. Big trouble. He'd seen it in the hardened faces of the perimeter protectors who had directed him to this particular door instead of to any of the main entrances. He could see it in the eyes of the Overclan warriors whom he passed and could hear it in the low tones as they conversed among themselves as he went by.

Big trouble. And all of it focused on him.

And to Thrr-gilag it was obvious what had happened. Somehow they'd found out about that little stunt he and Klnn-dawan-a had pulled with Prr't-zevisti's fsss back on Dharanv. They'd found out, and he was being led off to summary trial and judgment. All was lost: his career, his honor, his bond-engagement to Klnn-dawan-a. And Prr't-zevisti's last chance for survival.

It was over. And yet, even as Thrr-gilag's emotions swung violently between panic and resignation at the looming disaster, a small part of his mind refused to let go of the nagging sense that something here wasn't right. Why would the Overclan Prime get personally involved with such a sordid matter? For that matter, why had they trusted him to obey the summons to Oaccanv? Shouldn't they at least have brought him back here under warrior guard?

The fears and doubts and apprehensions were still chasing through his mind when he and the Elder arrived at their destination. It was a different room from the private offices he'd been brought to—could it really have been only eight fullarcs ago?—just after the ignominious return of the alien study group from Base World 12. "Enter," the Elder said, and vanished. Trying vainly to slow his tail's dizzying spin, Thrr-gilag gripped the wooden ring and pulled the door open.

It was a smaller room than the Prime's private office had been, and even more simply furnished. But it was imbued with the same sense of age and history. Two Zhirrzh were waiting for him: the Overclan Prime and Speaker Cvv-panav of the Dhaa'rr. "Come in, Searcher Thrr-gilag," the Prime said gravely. "You know the Speaker for Dhaa'rr."

"I do," Thrr-gilag said, nodding respectfully to each of them in turn and noting the odd lack of a kavra-fruit rack. Here in the Prime's private chambers, apparently, such formalities were dispensed with.

"I'm afraid I have bad news for you, Searcher," the Prime said, "concerning a matter of grave importance. For reasons that will become apparent, I've decided to personally intervene. Please; sit down."

Thrr-gilag lowered himself onto the indicated couch, fighting to keep from blurting out the words boiling up within him. Whatever they knew—whatever they thought they knew—he must above all else not help them by volunteering information. He and Thrr-mezaz had fallen into that trap with their parents innumerable times as children. "What is it?" he asked as calmly as he could.

"It concerns your mother, Thrr-pifix-a," the Prime said quietly, his gaze steady on Thrr-gilag's face. "She's been detained on charges of grand-first theft." He paused. "She—or rather, persons unknown employed by her—broke into the Thrr family shrine last latearc. And stole her fsss organ."

Thrr-gilag stared at him, shock freezing his muscles into immobility. "What?" he whispered.

"You heard him," Cvv-panav said, the harshness of his voice slashing across the brittle stillness like a ragged ax against kindling reeds. "She hired some thugs and stole her fsss."

Thrr-gilag looked at him, the face not really registering against the swirling paralysis in his mind. She'd done it. She'd actually done it. His mother had stolen her fsss. Had had it there, in her hands.

There in her hands... "What happened then?" he asked, afraid to hear the answer. "I mean afterward?"

"Don't worry, her fsss was recovered intact," the Prime assured him. "Which is about the only good part of all this. At least she won't have to stand trial for fsss destruction."

Trial. The word sent a fresh shiver through Thrr-gilag. "Will she have to stand trial at all?" he asked. "I mean, if there was no harm done—"

"There was most certainly harm done," Cvv-panav cut him off. "Her thugs broke into the shrine, damaging Thrr property and injuring one of the protectors in the process. That's worth two trials right there." He sniffed contemptuously. "What makes it all the worse is that she refuses even to admit her complicity in the crime. Claims that two unnamed Zhirrzh from a nonexistent organization came to her out of nowhere and offered to help her."

Thrr-gilag looked at the Prime. "Maybe she's telling the truth."

"The organization she named doesn't exist, Searcher," the Prime said, flicking his tongue in a negative. "We've had plenty of time to check. It simply doesn't exist."

"I see." Thrr-gilag took a careful breath. This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be. "So she will have to go to trial."

"Under normal circumstance, undoubtedly," the Prime said. "In this case, however"—his eyes flicked to Cvv-panav—"Speaker Cvv-panav has asked me to intervene on behalf of you and your mother."

Thrr-gilag looked at Cvv-panav, a sudden surge of hope flickering into flame within him. Cvv-panav, Speaker of the most powerful Zhirrzh clan...

"It's obvious such a trial would be highly damaging to the Kee'rr," the Prime went on. "Because of your bond-engagement to Klnn-dawan-a, however, the prestige of the Dhaa'rr would also be affected. Naturally, Speaker Cvv-panav would like to avoid that at all costs."

"I see," Thrr-gilag said, the flicker of hope vanishing. He could see where this was going now, all right. And why Cvv-panav had decided to get involved with it. "And how would the Speaker propose that be done?"

"There will be no trial," Cvv-panav said. "Your mother will spend a few fullarcs under guard and then be allowed to return to her home. The Thrr and Kee'rr recorders will unobtrusively add the record of her crime to their archives, and the matter will be over."

"I see," Thrr-gilag said. "And what will the price be for all this official forgiveness?"

"There is no price per se," Cvv-panav said, his tone steady and unreadable. "I'm doing this for the Dhaa'rr, not you. However." He paused. "It is, of course, impossible to completely bury what has happened. The protectors of the Thrr shrine know; so do the warriors who detained Thrr-pifix-a; so do the recorders of the Thrr and Kee'rr and the Overclan. Your family is shamed, Searcher Thrr-gilag. My overriding concern is that the Dhaa'rr not be shamed along with you."

"What will the price be?" Thrr-gilag repeated.

The Speaker locked gazes with him. "Your bond-engagement to Klnn-dawan-a will end. Right here. Right now."

Thrr-gilag nodded bitterly. He'd been right. Cvv-panav had taken this tragedy and was going to twist it to his own purposes. "Suppose I refuse?"

"The bond-engagement is over, Searcher," the Prime said, his voice quiet but firm. "Accept it in private now, or accept it in public, with public humiliation, when your mother goes on trial."

Thrr-gilag looked at him, a sense of finality settling over him. Finality, and an odd sort of peace. The feeling of freedom that came of having nothing left to lose. "Are you threatening me, Overclan Prime?" he asked. "Because if you are—"

"That's enough," Cvv-panav snapped. "How dare you talk that way to—?"

"The Speaker for Dhaa'rr will be silent," the Prime said. His voice was still quiet, but suddenly there was an overpowering strength of authority to his tone. Cvv-panav flashed him a startled look and subsided, glowering.

For a beat the Prime continued to look at him. Then, slowly, he turned back to Thrr-gilag. "That was not a threat, Searcher Thrr-gilag," he said. "It was a statement of fact. Without Speaker Cvv-panav's support and assistance, there's no possibility for this to end without bringing Thrr-pifix-a to trial."

"I see," Thrr-gilag said. So it was over. The two most powerful Zhirrzh in the eighteen worlds had discussed the matter and had made their decision. "I don't seem to have any choices left. Do I."

The Prime's tongue flicked in a negative. "No. You don't."

For a few beats the room was silent. "Then I suppose it's settled," Thrr-gilag said, standing up. "Thank you for your time, Overclan Prime. And for your efforts on behalf of my mother."

"Merely repayment for your service to the Zhirrzh." Something in the Prime's face seemed to twitch—"Service which must, unfortunately, now come to an end. Under the circumstances I'm sure you understand that it would be best if you didn't represent the Kee'rr on the Zhirrzh mission to the Mrachani homeworld."

Thrr-gilag nodded, noting peripherally that Cvv-panav seemed surprised. Perhaps he hadn't expected this one. A final parting shot from the Prime himself, then. "I understand."

"I'm sorry it has to be this way," the Prime said. "On the other side, this war isn't going to be over for a long time. There will surely be other ways for you to serve the Zhirrzh people in the future."

Thrr-gilag gazed at him, filled suddenly with the almost overwhelming desire to throw the lie back into that impassive face. This war could be a very short one indeed, ended by the Human-Conquerors' devastating CIRCE weapon. He wondered if the Prime had gotten around to telling the Overclan Seating about CIRCE yet. Or what Speaker Cvv-panav's reaction would be if he learned the truth. Right here and right now...

Thrr-gilag sighed, the rage and hatred draining out of him. No. CIRCE was not his secret to tell. And the reasons for keeping that secret had not changed. "I'm sure there will be," he said instead. "When that time comes, I will of course serve to the fullest of my abilities."

"I'm sure you will," the Prime said. "Good fullarc to you, Searcher Thrr-gilag."

It was a dismissal. Thrr-gilag nodded to both of them and turned to go—

"One other thing," the Prime said from behind him. "Thrr-pifix-a is currently in the detention center at Unity City. As she'll be there for several more fullarcs, you might wish to go to her home and select a few personal items for her use there. The server at the main Overclan desk has the key to her house, as well as a list of the sorts of things she can be allowed to have."

"I appreciate the courtesy, Overclan Prime," Thrr-gilag said. "I'll have to see if I can find a way to get out there."

"Speak with the server when you pick up the key," the Prime offered. "If there are any Overclan flights heading that direction within the next couple of tentharcs, I'll see to it you're authorized to ride along."

"Thank you," Thrr-gilag said. After that last shot, a token coating of salve. Just to show there hadn't been anything personal or vindictive about this. Appearances were everything. "Again, I appreciate your courtesy."

"You'd best go, then," the Prime said.

Another dismissal. This time, clearly, he meant it. Nodding once again to the two Zhirrzh, Thrr-gilag turned and left the room.

For a few hunbeats he wandered randomly down the corridors, not really seeing or hearing the Zhirrzh he passed, his mind and emotions too frozen to think or feel anything at all. But the numbness couldn't last for long. Certainly not long enough. Slowly, inexorably, like a deep wound from which the anesthetic was receding, the bitterness and pain began to flow back in.

So it had happened. All the fears he'd taken into the room had now been realized. He'd feared the worst; and the worst had happened. In that single stroke the Dhaa'rr and the Overclan Prime had taken everything he truly valued away from him. His career, his honor, and especially Klnn-dawan-a. Everything.

Halfway down the corridor, a group of Zhirrzh looked around as an Elder appeared beside them. There was a brief, inaudible conversation, and the Elder vanished.

And Thrr-gilag realized he'd been wrong. He'd feared the worst, all right. But the worst had not, in fact, happened. In all their zeal the Overclan Prime and Speaker Cvv-panav had missed something.

Prr't-zevisti.

Thrr-gilag took a deep breath, a sudden surge of resolve slicing through the despair. No, it wasn't hopeless yet. Not yet. If Klnn-dawan-a could get that tissue sampler to Thrr-mezaz, they might still have a chance of bringing Prr't-zevisti back from the almost certain death the Dhaa'rr were trying to force on him. And if they did, maybe they could use it as a lever right back at Speaker Cvv-panav again.

The odds were vanishingly small. Thrr-gilag knew that. But it didn't matter. He had fresh hope, and new purpose, and that was what he needed most right now.

Straightening up, Thrr-gilag got his bearings and headed at a brisk walk down the corridor toward the main Overclan desk. He would take the Prime up on his offer and go get some things to take to his mother. And when he saw her, he would be cheerful and comforting and helpful.

Because the Prime and Cvv-panav hadn't taken his family away from him, either. And maybe, ultimately, that was what really mattered.

"Well," Cvv-panav said, resettling himself on his couch. "All things considered, I'd say that went quite well."

"I'm pleased you were satisfied," the Prime said, trying to ignore the twinges of guilt prodding at him. It had all been necessary, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Decisions of state, he was rapidly coming to realize, were much easier when one didn't have to face those who were affected. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some film to review before the Overclan Seating session this postmidarc."

"Come now, Overclan Prime," Cvv-panav chided, making no move to stand up. "Surely you haven't forgotten our agreement. You were going to tell me about the CIRCE weapon, remember?"

"Of course I remember," the Prime said, tapping a key on his reader. "But first I'd like to view this film. Perhaps you'd be so kind as to watch it with me." The wall behind him lit up, and the Prime turned to look.

And from the direction of Cvv-panav's couch he heard a stifled gasp. "You recognize the setting, I see," the Prime commented. "You'll note the excellent quality of the pictures, despite the somewhat inadequate lighting. See there, too—how clearly the faces of both Korthe and Dornt can be seen as they lay the pouch containing her fsss at Thrr-pifix-a's door? And the detail on the pouch itself, of course. An ideal record for, shall we say, identification purposes?"

"I'm sure we could say that, yes," Cvv-panav ground out. "Who took this film? Thrr-pifix-a?" He cursed under his breath. "So I was right, after all. She was one of your agents, and the whole thing was nothing more than a gigantic setup. Designed to destroy me."

The Prime flicked his tongue in weary negative. "You flatter yourself, Speaker, and in the same breath underestimate the strength of my position along with it. Neither you nor the Dhaa'rr are the threat to my authority you seem to believe."

"And yet you seek to destroy me," Cvv-panav accused, jabbing his tongue toward the film.

"Not true," the Prime disagreed. "You continue to insist on seeing this in terms of the ancient battle standards. With yourself as the great and glorious leader of the Dhaa'rr, who must be destroyed or else surrendered to."

"What else is there?"

"Cooperation," the Prime said. "Working together toward a common goal. Subordinating personal or clan preferences when necessary for the good of the whole."

Cvv-panav gestured contemptuously. "You dream in impossible ideals, Overclan Prime. You see five hundred cyclics of nonwar, and you think the Zhirrzh have changed. But we haven't. Conflict, competition, rivalry—it's all still there. Life in the eighteen worlds is still a contest to see who will dominate and who will submit. No different, really, from this war against the Human-Conquerors."

"You're wrong," the Prime said quietly. "Peaceful clan rivalry is nothing at all like the devastation of open warfare. And this war with the Human-Conquerors is not a contest of supremacy, at least not on our side. It's a battle for our survival."

Cvv-panav sniffed. "Strong words—"

"You wanted to hear about CIRCE," the Prime cut him off harshly. "Fine. Let me tell you about CIRCE."

He gave Cvv-panav all of it. Everything the Human-Conqueror prisoner Pheylan-Cavanagh had said; everything the technics had been able to draw from the alien recorder; everything Warrior Command had deduced or pieced together or speculated on.

It took ten hunbeats... and at the end Cvv-panav was as shaken as the Prime had ever seen him. "It's incredible," the Speaker breathed, his tail twitching uncontrollably. "Utterly incredible. How could such a thing exist?"

"I don't know," the Prime said. "If we knew, perhaps we'd be able to find a way to protect ourselves against it. But we don't. And we can't."

"That's why Warrior Command is driving so many different offensives," Cvv-panav murmured, gazing unseeingly into the air. "Trying to take as many Human-Conqueror worlds as possible to try to isolate the CIRCE components."

"Yes," the Prime nodded. "The price being that we've spread our forces dangerously thin. Ripe for a Human-Conqueror counteroffensive. But we have no other choice."

Abruptly, Cvv-panav's attention came back to him. "What if it's too late? Are you sure it's not already too late?"

"We're not sure at all," the Prime said grimly. "For all we know, they could be assembling CIRCE right now."

"And what happens if they do?"

The Prime looked him straight in the eye. "Then the Zhirrzh race will most probably die."

For a long beat they sat in silence. "What do you want from me?" Cvv-panav asked at last.

The Zhirrzh race will die. With an effort the Prime pushed aside the words that still echoed through his mind. It was the first time that he'd put his fear into actual, explicit words. Somehow that very act had made it all the more real. And all the more terrifying. "I want what I've always wanted," he told Cvv-panav. "The full cooperation of you and the Dhaa'rr."

"And you thought you needed that"—Cvv-panav gestured distastefully at the film still playing—"to insure my cooperation?"

"I want your cooperation," the Prime said. "Not your leadership. I trust you see the difference."

"And what if I don't agree with some aspect of how you're handling the war?"

"You're welcome to question me," the Prime said. "To discuss your point of view, either privately or in the Seating. But when my final decision is made, you will accept it. Without further argument."

"And if I don't?"

The Prime locked gazes with him. "Then I'll release the film. And you'll be destroyed."

There was another long beat of silence. "You play dangerous games, Overclan Prime," Cvv-panav said at last.

"I'm not playing games," the Prime countered. "This is real. And very serious."

"Oh, I know it's serious," Cvv-panav agreed. "You seem to be having far too much fun with it, that's all."

The Prime flicked a negative. "I'm not having fun, Speaker. I'm simply doing what has to be done."

"I wish I could believe that." Cvv-panav stood up. "Regardless, you've made your point. And you've won this round. But there will be others."

"When the war is over," the Prime warned.

Cvv-panav smiled tightly. "Of course, Overclan Prime. When the war is over."

22

The previous fullarc had been devoted to an operation involving a Human warrior named Srgent-janovetz and the application of some sort of device to the side of his face, an operation Prr't-zevisti had found fascinating if thoroughly incomprehensible. He'd rather hoped that Doctor-Cavan-a would be doing a repeat of it this fullarc so that he could have another look; but for right now, at least, it was back to prodding and poking yet another sample from his fsss cutting.

He was getting tired of it. Not that it was painful, really, though the low-level Elderdeath emissions that usually accompanied her studies were growing more and more annoying. But it was boring. More importantly, it didn't give him any new information on the Humans or their technology. And there was so much more he needed to learn.

There was the sound of a muffled clank, transmitted by his fsss cutting: the door being opened. Cautiously, Prr't-zevisti came up to the edge of the lightworld for a look.

It was the Human commander. "Hello Doctor-Cavan-a," he said, pulling the door closed. "Any progress?"

"A little," she answered. "I think I may have isolated the (something) source for the (something) activity."

"That's good," the commander said, stepping over to her and looking down at the latest fsss sample. "Seen any more of the (something) from the (something) end?"

"I don't know," she said, looking up at his face. "I sometimes think I see something at the (something) of my eye. But when I look, there's nothing there."

"Try to (something) it down," he told her, throwing a quick look of his own around the room. Prr't-zevisti ducked down a little deeper into the grayworld, just to be on the safe side. "Try real hard. Bad enough they can (something) (something) across light (something). If they can (something) right through the walls of this room, too, it'll be just that much worse."

"Something's wrong, isn't it?" Doctor-Cavan-a asked, her voice suddenly quiet. "What?"

Prr't-zevisti heard the faint hissing sound of the commander's breath. "It's Srgent-janovetz. He and his (something) went silent last (something)."

"I hadn't heard," Doctor-Cavan-a said. "Do you think they've kill (something) him?"

"I don't know," the commander said. "We got one (something) (something) from him and sent one back. And that was all." He paused. "But what's really trouble (something) is what that (something) show (something). (Something), there was an attack on the Zhirrzh base."

Prr't-zevisti came up to the edge of the lightworld in time to see Doctor-Cavan-a's face change, her overeye hair tufts pressing toward each other. "You didn't tell me we were go (something) to attack."

"We didn't," the commander said. "That's what's so trouble (something). We didn't attack; and it doesn't make much sense for the Zhirrzh to have attack (something) themselves. Which leaves only one (something)."

"The (something)? But that's (something). They're prisoners."

"That's what we've been assume (something)," the commander said. "But we really don't know that for sure. The (something) we got show (something) them be (something) take (something) across the land (something) field. They didn't seem to be wear (something) anything like that (something) suit described in the report from your brother."

There was a beat of silence. "What was this attack like?" Doctor-Cavan-a asked.

"Our (something) angle wasn't very good," the commander said. "Near as we could tell, it seem (something) to be a series of explosions."

"Damage?"

"Again, we couldn't tell. But they all seem (something) to be locate (something) in the same general area. Why? You have an idea?"

"Not really," Doctor-Cavan-a said. "But you're right: by process of (something), it has to have been the (something) behind it. But what they're play (something) at, I can't begin to understand."

"Something (something), though," the commander said, his voice lowering in pitch. "I'd bet my (something) on that."

"Well, maybe—"

Doctor-Cavan-a stopped speaking as the door opened. "Commander?" a warrior called. "Observation Post Five report (something) enemy air activity."

"Probably just their (something) (something)," the commander said, pulling a metal cylinder from his waist as he moved to the door. "Hold that thought, Doctor. I'll be right back."

He stepped outside, leaving the door open behind him. Stealthily, Prr't-zevisti slipped out behind him. It was the first chance he'd had in nearly three fullarcs to get out of the metal room, and no matter what the risks, he was determined to make the most of it.

Not much had changed out there since his last trip. A few more of the equipment piles had disappeared, and it occurred to him that it might be possible to deduce from that whether or not the Humans were running low on supplies. But on the other side, it might just mean they were moving things around to other parts of the stronghold.

"(Something) here," the commander's voice said. Prr't-zevisti looked around, spotted the other standing a couple of strides off to the side next to one of the equipment piles. He had a flat rectangular device propped up on top of the pile, with the metal cylinder he'd taken from his waist held up near his mouth. Some sort of recorder, obviously—

"Post Five, Commander," a faint voice came from the cylinder.

Prr't-zevisti frowned, moving as close to the commander as the walls of the metal room allowed. So it wasn't a recorder, but a communication device. Probably would have recognized that sooner if he'd had the same darklight sensitivity now that he'd had before he was raised to Eldership. He looked around as the voice continued talking, wondering if he could spot the darklight relay. Or, for that matter, would even know what a Human darklight relay looked like.

"Interest (something)," the commander said, turning back toward the metal room. Prr't-zevisti's attention snapped back with the movement; he didn't want to risk either being seen or getting caught by a closing door. "Hang on; let me check something." The commander rounded the corner of the room and stepped into the doorway—

And abruptly, the faint background of Elderdeath annoyance exploded into a knife edge of pain.

Prr't-zevisti gasped, the sheer unexpectedness of it freezing him writhing to the spot. He barely heard the commander and Doctor-Cavan-a speaking, his full attention on the torment driving through him like a million twisting needles. The universe seemed to swirl around him as waves of dizziness joined with the pain and nausea—

And then, as suddenly as if a switch had been thrown, it was gone. He gasped again, fighting to bring the world back into focus. The commander was still standing in the doorway talking to Doctor-Cavan-a, pointing to his right away from the metal room with the hand that held the cylinder. He finished the gesture, brought the hand back in front of him again—

And Prr't-zevisti jerked in agony as the Elderdeath pain again lanced through him.

But only for a beat. He had barely enough time to gasp when the pain again shut off.

It seemed harder this time to regain his balance and equilibrium; the Human commander seemed to be walking up a slanted wall as he stepped away from the doorway and back to his equipment pile. With an effort Prr't-zevisti fought his way through the dizziness, almost too drained to be angry. So it had finally happened. His captors had finally tried a full-fledged Elderdeath attack on him. But he'd survived it, and he hadn't given himself away.

Maybe they hadn't expected him to. Doctor-Cavan-a had stepped to the door of the metal room now, looking at the commander and paying no attention to either his fsss cutting or Prr't-zevisti himself. The commander, for his part, was still talking into his cylinder as if nothing at all had just happened.

The cylinder.

Prr't-zevisti stared at the device, an icy chill creeping across the last residue of Elderdeath ache. The cylinder. Moved into the doorway, into direct line with his fsss cutting, as the Elderdeath attack began. Taken away as it ended. And moved briefly out of line with the commander's gesture during the equally brief lull in the attack.

And suddenly Prr't-zevisti had it. The truth. The horrifying, devastating truth.

The Humans' Elderdeath weapons weren't weapons at all. They were communication devices.

Prr't-zevisti hovered there, staring at the commander and Doctor-Cavan-a, his mind spinning with shock. The report from the study group on Base World 12 had included a claim by the Human prisoner that it was the Zhirrzh survey ships that had started the space battle. Warrior Command and the Overclan had dismissed it as a lie.

But it hadn't been a lie. Not from the prisoner's point of view. As far as he knew, the Humans had done nothing more aggressive than attempting to communicate.

And had promptly been fired on. In what the Zhirrzh commanders had naturally considered to be pure self-defense.

Which meant that this entire war was nothing but a gigantic mistake.

Numbly, Prr't-zevisti made his way back into the metal room, settling into his corner and down into the grayworld. A mistake. A horrible blunder of misunderstandings.

And if this war, then why not all the others? All of Zhirrzh history—all the wars of defensive conquest against aliens who'd attacked them on sight. Had all of those wars been sparked by similar mistakes?

There was a sound, and Prr't-zevisti moved back to the edge of the lightworld. Doctor-Cavan-a had come back inside the room, followed by the Human commander. They held a brief conversation, something with a lot of words Prr't-zevisti didn't understand, and then the commander went out again, closing the door behind him.

For a few beats Doctor-Cavan-a sat quietly, staring at the door. Then, exhaling audibly, she turned back to her work on the fsss sample. Trying, if her conversations could be believed, to understand its importance to the Zhirrzh.

And Prr't-zevisti came to a decision.

He came up to the closest edge of the lightworld, a small dark voice in the back of his mind reminding him as he did so that this whole thing could be nothing more than an elaborate stratagem, a trick to draw him finally out into the open. But it was a risk he had to take. If there was even a small chance that he'd stumbled on the truth here...

His movement caught Doctor-Cavan-a's attention. She turned her head and froze, her mouth dropping soundlessly open as she saw him—

"Hello, Doctor-Cavan-a," he said, speaking the alien words as clearly as he could. "I am Prr't-zevisti; Dhaa'rr."

23

The suborbital transport put Thrr-gilag down at a small private landing field fifteen thoustrides south of Reeds Village. The Overclan pilot loaned him a one-person runabout, promised to be back in two tentharcs, and lifted off again.

It was a long, lonely drive down the dusty roadway that led north toward his mother's house. Thrr-gilag saw only a few buildings along the way, farmhouses and related outbuildings, most of them fairly distant from the roadway. The only other vehicles he passed were lumbering planters out working the fields. Little to see, little to do except for the largely automatic process of driving down a deserted roadway.

It left him a lot of time for thought. They weren't pleasant thoughts. He tried to concentrate on the attempt to save the possibly alive Prr't-zevisti from probable death, and to speculate on how such a success might be bartered into reinstatement of his bond-engagement to Klnn-dawan-a. But there were too many ifs in the whole equation; too many ifs and possibles and maybes and doubtfuls. And even if it all worked out perfectly, there would always be the weight of his mother's crime working against it.

His mother. Thrr-gilag sighed, feeling a twinge of guilt. With all the rest of the flurry that had accompanied it, the truly basic consideration hadn't even occurred to him until midway through the flight from Unity City. Thrr-pifix-a had tried to steal her fsss because she didn't want to become an Elder.

She'd failed. Which meant that choice had now been taken away from her. And Thrr-gilag still couldn't decide whether he was relieved or saddened by that.

There were a half-dozen Elders hovering around his mother's house as he pulled up in front of it. "Hello," one of them said as he stepped out of the runabout. "Who are you?"

Thrr-gilag eyed him. "Why?"

The other seemed taken aback. "I was just wondering. I'd heard something happened here last latearc, something involving Overclan warriors and some kind of criminal activity. Just wondered if you knew anything about it."

Thrr-gilag grimaced. So the rumors had already started. Inevitable, really. With so little to occupy their time, Elders were to rumors as liquid fuel was to fires. "Sorry," he said shortly, striding past the Elder toward the door.

"Wait a beat," a second Elder said, moving into Thrr-gilag's path. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going inside," Thrr-gilag said. "Is that any business of yours?"

"Do you have permission from the occupant to enter?"

"I have the key," Thrr-gilag said, holding it up.

"But do you have permission?" the Elder repeated.

Thrr-gilag stopped. "I have all the permission I need," he ground out. "I'll ask again: what business is this of yours?"

"This is our land," a third Elder said, his voice and manner huffy. "It's both our privilege and our duty to protect it."

And suddenly Thrr-gilag was sick and tired of Elders. "That's dead bisfis effluvia," he said flatly. "And you know it. You never paid the slightest bit of attention to Thrr-pifix-a until you smelled a chance at some gossip. That's all you want, and you can forget it."

"How dare you speak that way to your Elders?" the third Elder demanded. "We are—"

"What you are is invited to get lost," Thrr-gilag cut him off. Pushing past and through the whole group of them, he unlocked the door and went in.

He half expected the Elders to join him, at least long enough to drop a few scathing comments about his manners and the importance of respect. But if they had in fact followed him in, they were keeping quiet about it.

More likely they'd simply returned to their family shrines, to tell in great detail about the rude young male who had shown up at the mystery-shrouded home of Thrr-pifix-a; Kee'rr.

His mother hadn't lived there for very long, but even so the house was rich with memories. For a few hunbeats Thrr-gilag just wandered through the various rooms, looking at the furniture and pictures he remembered from his childhood, fingering the various pieces of edgework she'd loved to do and been so proud of. Here and there was a pouch or scarflin she'd been working on, as yet unfinished. Beside the kitchen sink were her gardening tools, painstakingly cleaned from the previous fullarc's work and laid neatly out to dry. The trowel still held a drop of water in its curved surface; picking it up, he turned it over, watching the drop dribble off.

From the edge of his eye he caught a flicker of movement. So not all the Elders had gone away. Thrr-gilag spun toward the figure, drawing a breath to tell these nosy gossips once and for all what he thought of them—

"Hello, my son," Thrr't-rokik said, his voice grave. "I'm glad you've come."

Thrr-gilag's breath went out of him in a startled gasp. "Father," he murmured when he finally got his voice back.

Thrr't-rokik's serious expression cracked, just a little. "I take it you weren't expecting me," he suggested with a wry smile. "At least not if you were about to say what you looked like you were about to say."

"No, not at all," Thrr-gilag hastened to assure him, waving an arm in the general direction of the front door. "I was expecting it to be one of the local—"

He froze, his arm still raised toward the door, the words dying on his tongue as the second shock suddenly hit him. This wasn't the Thrr family shrine. He was here, just south of Reeds Village, 115 thoustrides away.

Fifteen thoustrides outside his father's anchorline range.

"No, it's not a hallucination," Thrr't-rokik said quietly. "I'm really here."

"But how?" Thrr-gilag asked, tongue flicking in confusion.

"Highly illegally, I'm afraid," Thrr't-rokik confessed. "Of course, we'd never intended that anyone would ever find out about it." He shrugged uncomfortably. "Under normal circumstances I'm sure no one ever would have. But the circumstances are hardly normal anymore."

"Wait a beat," Thrr-gilag said. "Wait just a beat, all right? How can you be here? What did you do, have a cutting taken or something?"

"No 'or something' about it," Thrr't-rokik said. "I talked a friend into taking a cutting for me. So that I could keep an eye on your mother."

Thrr-gilag nodded slowly. Of course. Obvious, now that he thought about it. It was exactly the sort of thing his father would do. "Without her knowing about it, I suppose."

Thrr't-rokik turned away. "I couldn't tell her, Thrr-gilag. She didn't want any part of me. Never wanted to see me again. But I couldn't accept that. Couldn't just let go."

Thrr-gilag sighed. It certainly wasn't proper, spying on her that way. But on the other side, he could hardly blame his father for doing so. "You took a big chance," he told Thrr't-rokik. "I trust you realize that. If she'd ever gotten around to checking with the local cutting pyramids, you'd have been caught for sure."

"Oh, I took a chance, all right," Thrr't-rokik said grimly, "But not the one you imagine. You see, my cutting isn't in any of the local pyramids. Or in the local shrines, or anywhere else it's supposed to be. It's... well, it's been rather informally placed, let's say."

Thrr-gilag frowned; and then it hit him, like a tongue edge in the neck. "You mean you just tossed it into a—a box or something?"

"Exactly correct, I'm afraid," Thrr't-rokik admitted. "It's in a sealed container buried out back beneath the Kyranda bushes." He eyed Thrr-gilag, his face pinched in anxious anticipation. "You're shocked, of course. I can't say I blame you."

Thrr-gilag sighed, acutely aware of the irony of it all. He and Thrr-mezaz were conspiring to put their illegal cutting of Prr't-zevisti's fsss in a predator-proof box on Dorcas; and here their father had already done the same thing. It must run in the family. "Actually, I'm not nearly as shocked as you probably think," he told Thrr't-rokik. "Who did you talk into doing this for you?"

"I suppose there's no real harm in telling you," Thrr't-rokik said. "After what's happened, it's all bound to come out soon anyway. They'll undoubtedly do a complete check of all the fsss organs at the family shrine to see if any of them were tampered with."

Thrr-gilag nodded. Once again, it was obvious. "It was Thrr-tulkoj, wasn't it?" he asked. "Only a shrine protector would have that kind of access."

"Yes." Thrr't-rokik nodded heavily. "And he's going to be in serious trouble when it's discovered. But for now there's nothing we can do about that." He looked at Thrr-gilag, a sudden fire in his eyes. "What we can do something about—maybe—is the trouble your mother's in. You see, I didn't attend that big Elder meeting last latearc. I was here."

Thrr-gilag's tail twitched. "You were here?" he echoed. "I mean, right here at this house?"

"Right here," Thrr't-rokik agreed soberly. "And I saw everything. There were two of them, two young males, dressed in the sort of outfits you sometimes see in warrior entertainment dramas. They came up to the door and laid the pouch on the ground, then knocked twice and ran."

"Why didn't you alert the rest of the Elders?"

"I wish I had," Thrr't-rokik sighed. "But I didn't recognize the significance of what I'd seen. Not until the warriors came up out of cover and charged toward the house—"

"Wait a beat." Thrr-gilag frowned. "The warriors came out of cover? Where out of cover?"

"Oh, pretty much everywhere," Thrr't-rokik said, waving vaguely around him. "From the various farmers' outbuildings, out of ditches, behind scrub-plant clusters—all around the area. I didn't even notice them until they started moving."

Thrr-gilag pressed the tip of his tongue hard against the top of his mouth. "But then that means it wasn't just some sudden news or anonymous warning that got them here in time to stop mother from destroying her fsss," he said slowly. "They were waiting for it to show up. And yet you say they deliberately let those two males leave?"

"I don't know how deliberate it was," Thrr't-rokik said. "They could simply have been caught off guard. As I said, it happened very quickly."

"Maybe," Thrr-gilag growled. "But a few properly positioned Elders ought to have been able to give the warriors enough warning to catch them." He glared at his father. "Assuming, of course, that they wanted to catch them."

"Be very careful, my son," Thrr't-rokik warned. "What you're hinting at could get you into serious trouble."

Thrr-gilag flicked a tongue contemptuously. "I'm already in serious trouble. Or I will be soon, anyway."

"That's no reason to make things worse by announcing unproved accusations," Thrr't-rokik countered. "It doesn't help you or your mother."

With an effort Thrr-gilag forced down his growing anger. "Then we'll get some proof," he said. "You say you saw these two Zhirrzh. Would you recognize them if you saw them again?"

"I'm sure I would," Thrr't-rokik said.

"All right, then," Thrr-gilag said, fingering his mother's gardening trowel. "What we'll do is put their description out into the Elder network and see if we can track them down."

"Risky," his father said, flicking his tongue in a negative. "They certainly aren't going to want to be found; and if they catch even a hint that someone saw them, they're likely to bury themselves where we'll never find them."

Thrr-gilag grimaced. "I know. But it's all we've got."

"Actually, maybe not," Thrr't-rokik said. "I told you they left on foot. What I haven't yet told you is they didn't travel that way for long. They had a small transport waiting about a hundred strides to the west."

"Probably how they got here from the shrine," Thrr-gilag said, hearing an edge of bitterness in his voice. "A whole transport. I wonder how the Overclan warriors missed that"

"It's not impossible, Thrr-gilag," Thrr't-rokik cautioned. "Please don't stumble to false conclusions here. The vehicle had no lights or markings and looked to be darklight-shielded as well."

"Which all by itself proves someone important was involved," Thrr-gilag countered. "Transport modifications like that don't come cheap. They're only used when someone has something to hide."

"Perhaps," Thrr't-rokik said. "But they may have missed a bet. My cutting's a bit subsized, and I didn't have much time to look over the transport before they flew out of range. But I did get a chance to look at the floater engines, which turned out to be quite warm. Best guess is that they floated in at ground level for the last thoustride or so."

"Which you're probably going to say is why the Overclan warriors didn't spot them," Thrr-gilag sighed. "They're sure not making this easy to prove, are they?"

"I'm sure that's their goal," Thrr't-rokik agreed. "Whoever 'they' are, and whatever 'they' were doing. But you miss my point. As I said, the floater engines were warm. Warm enough to give off a fair amount of darklight." He smiled grimly. "Enough darklight, as it happens, for me to read the manufactural identification numbers."

Thrr-gilag felt his midlight pupils narrow. "You got the numbers?" he breathed. "Well, then—well, then, we're in. We've got them. We've got them by their tongues."

"Easy, son, easy," Thrr't-rokik said, holding up a hand. "It's not going to be that easy. We can't just announce the numbers and call for a public explanation. As you said, someone important is likely involved in this, and political power almost always comes with importance. We can't risk a countermove that crushes our entire family beneath it."

"So what do we do?" Thrr-gilag demanded. "Keep quiet and let them get away with it?"

"Of course not," Thrr't-rokik said. "All I'm saying is that the obvious, public way isn't going to work here. For right now Thrr-pifix-a is all right: she's shamed, but for whatever reasons, whoever's behind all this doesn't seem to want it made public. That means we have time. So what I'll do is—"

He broke off. Across the house there was a quiet knock at the door.

For a beat Thrr-gilag just looked at Thrr't-rokik, wondering if he'd imagined the sound. The knock came again; and Thrr't-rokik flickered and was gone.

He was back two beats later. "I don't know," he hissed to Thrr-gilag. "One Zhirrzh, male, middle-aged. He looks very familiar, somehow, but I can't place him."

There was a third knock, a more insistent one this time. "Keep watch," Thrr-gilag told his father, crossing the kitchen to the door. Bracing himself, trying to prepare himself mentally for anything, he pulled it open.

"Hello, Searcher," the Overclan Prime said. "I'm glad you were able to find your way out here. May I come in?"

Thrr-gilag swallowed. This was not anywhere on his impromptu mental list of possibilities. "Certainly, Overclan Prime," he said, moving back out of the way.

"Thank you." The Prime stepped inside; and as he passed, Thrr-gilag noticed the irritating pulsating tone that followed along with him. A hummer, already activated. Whatever was about to happen, the Prime was obviously determined that it be confidential.

But even if Thrr't-rokik couldn't hear, he would certainly be watching. It was a comforting thought.

"I'm sorry I had to twist you around the way I did in order to get you here," the Prime said, turning back around to face Thrr-gilag as the latter closed the door. "But I needed to talk to you in private."

"Is it about my mother?" Thrr-gilag asked.

"It concerns the war," the Prime said. "And your theory that there may be a biochemical basis for Human-Conqueror aggression."

Thrr-gilag suppressed a grimace. All the way out here; and for this? "That theory is hardly a deep secret, Overclan Prime," he pointed out impatiently. "I've already filed a note about it. We could have discussed this back at the Overclan complex."

"Perhaps," the Prime said calmly. "But we could hardly have discussed the unauthorized cutting you and Klnn-dawan-a took of Prr't-zevisti's fsss organ. Could we."

Thrr-gilag stared at him, his mind freezing in shock. So they knew. They'd known all along. Klnn-dawan-a was probably at this very beat being hauled into a detention cell on Shamanv, her family shamed as his now was.... "No," he heard his voice say through a suddenly stiff mouth. "I suppose we couldn't have."

The Prime smiled faintly. "Relax, Searcher, it's not as bad as you're obviously thinking. Though you may change your mind about that in a hunbeat or two. For right now, at least, no one outside your little conspiracy knows anything about this."

With an effort Thrr-gilag forced his mind to start working again. The Prime could be lying, of course. But Thrr-gilag couldn't see what that would gain him. Either way, at this point he had little choice but to play this out and see where it led. "May I ask how you found out?" he asked.

"Through one of the Elders in Prr't-casst-a's supposedly secure pathway, of course," the Prime said. "As it happens, I already had an order in place that all of your communications were to be routed through an Overclan Elder. Prr't-casst-a's selection of Elders made it difficult, but not impossible. But that's not really the point. The point is that you probably want to go to Dorcas with Searcher Klnn-dawan-a. Fine; because I want you to go there, too."

Thrr-gilag frowned. Was he serious? "I don't understand."

"It's very simple," the Prime said. "The Dorcas beachhead has just taken three prisoners. Or possibly ambassadors; we're not really sure. One of them is a Human-Conqueror warrior." He gazed hard at Thrr-gilag. "The other two are Mrachanis."

Thrr-gilag felt his midlight pupils narrow. Mrachanis. "I should tell you, Overclan Prime, that I don't really trust the Mrachanis."

"Yes, I know," the Prime said. "Which is precisely why I want you to be the one to go talk to them. Especially since there's a Human-Conqueror prisoner there for you to do your biochemical tests on."

"I see," Thrr-gilag said, eying the Prime closely. "Do I take it that all of this is... somewhat unauthorized?"

The Prime locked gazes with him. "I'm authorizing it, Searcher. That's all the authorization you need."

"Yes, I understand that. What I meant—"

"I know what you meant," the Prime cut him off. "And I have neither the time nor the inclination to detail for you the full range of political realities involved. Your qualifications are simple: you're good at what you do, and you're not overly intimidated by authority or tradition when you see something that has to be done. The question is equally simple: will you go, or won't you?"

"Of course I'll go," Thrr-gilag said. "When?"

"Immediately," the Prime said, a flicker of something that might have been relief touching his face. "There's a spacecraft waiting for you at the private field the transport dropped you off at. You can leave the runabout there to be picked up later."

"All right," Thrr-gilag said. "I don't have any luggage or equipment, though."

"There are changes of clothing for you already aboard the spacecraft," the Prime said. "You'll be making a stop at Base World Nine along the way; chances are most of the equipment you'll need can be picked up there. Have the spacecraft commander send me a list of whatever you want, and it'll be assigned to you. Anything Base World Nine doesn't have on hand will be sent to Dorcas from here. Acceptable?"

"Very much so," Thrr-gilag said, nodding. "Thank you."

"You'd best be on your way, then," the Prime said. "One other thing before you go. Commander Thrr-mezaz has reported the fact that the Human-Conquerors on Dorcas have made possibly two separate attempts to enter the region north of the Zhirrzh beachhead."

"Yes," Thrr-gilag said, shivering. "He told me."

"The commander was of course at a loss to explain their motivations." The Prime's expression hardened. "You and I, however, don't have to wonder."

"No," Thrr-gilag murmured. No, they didn't have to wonder at all. "CIRCE."

"Yes," the Prime agreed soberly. "And if one of its components is in fact hidden out there, there's no chance the Human-Conquerors will let it just sit there. If it becomes necessary, you're authorized to tell your brother everything you know about the device. And to do whatever it takes to make sure the Human-Conquerors don't retrieve it. Understood?"

Thrr-gilag nodded. "Understood."

"Good," the Prime said. "Then you'd better get going. Not a word or hint of any of this, of course. To anyone."

"Not to anyone," Thrr-gilag confirmed, moving toward the door.

"And," the Prime added softly, "good luck to you."

He managed a few words to his father before the runabout moved beyond Thrr't-rokik's range. Nothing beyond the fact that he was leaving Oaccanv, and that there was nothing to worry about.

Not that Thrr-gilag was entirely convinced of that himself. This whole thing could easily be a trap, for one thing. A trap to catch him and Klnn-dawan-a with the stolen fsss cutting, perhaps, with the purpose of bringing disastrous shame onto both of their families and clans. For arcane political reasons he could only guess at.

Or the target could be Thrr-mezaz. This could be a plot to catch him in collusion with dubious and technically unauthorized civilian experiments on an enemy prisoner, providing a quick and easy reason to relieve him of his command.

Or it could be something even simpler. A scheme to get Thrr-gilag out of the way while the two Zhirrzh who had framed Thrr-pifix-a quietly buried themselves away beyond all possibility of finding or identifying them.

But it could also be completely legitimate. And if it was—and if there was even a chance that going to Dorcas might help the Zhirrzh win this war—then it was a risk that Thrr-gilag had to be willing to take.

Foolishness, or bravery. Only time would tell which.

24

The air of Shamanv was crisp and tangy, smelling of exotic plants and the more familiar odors of the superconducting-materials processing the planet was famous for. Klnn-dawan-a inhaled deeply as she walked across the courtyard toward the Dhaa'rr routing-center annex, savoring both the aromas and the fresh feelings of optimism growing within her. True, she'd professed great hope for this plan when she'd spun it out for Thrr-gilag and Prr't-casst-a back on Dharanv. But privately she'd never been really convinced she could make it work.

But so far, and to her honest amazement, she'd had no problems at all. Collecting enough personal messages and items back on Dharanv to justify a personal visit to Dorcas had been amazingly easy; if anything, she'd had to turn down requests. Now, here on Shamanv, the Dhaa'rr servers were similarly speeding her along her way, taking the time to guide her through the necessary forms and brushing aside the unnecessary ones. The Dhaa'rr clan, all working together.

She grimaced. Or else the word had spread as to who she was and what had just happened to her, and the servers were merely feeling sorry for her. After all, the message had come through to her nearly two tentharcs ago. Plenty of time for a loudmouthed Elder to have spread it through the entire routing center. Short and final: her bond-engagement to Thrr-gilag was ended.

She glanced up at the cloudless sky, glaring in Dharanv's general direction. Short and final the message had been; but at the same time disturbingly empty of information. There had been no indication of how the clan and family leaders had come to their decision, for one thing. Nor had there been any details on the vote itself, which she seemed to recall was usually required. Nothing but the plain fact of the decision itself.

Klnn-dawan-a wouldn't accept that. She couldn't accept that. Nor, she was sure, would Thrr-gilag. Somehow they had to find some way to continue this fight.

But that would have to wait. Right now the most important thing was to get Prr't-zevisti's fsss sample out to Thrr-mezaz on Dorcas. Once that was done, she could return to Dharanv and try to find a way to get the bond-engagement reinstated...

She paused, frowning up at the sky again. Had she just seen...?

She had. Three dark dots were visible in the sky near the horizon. Coming this way, if she wasn't mistaken.

Muttering under her breath, she broke into a jogging run. The servers had told her that the ships for the Dorcas trip wouldn't be there for at least another tentharc. If they were this far ahead of schedule, it was going to be a race to get the forms processed before they lifted off again. Maybe the servers and their pleasant, helpful smiles weren't feeling as sorry for her as she'd thought. Glancing at the sky, she picked up her pace—

And came abruptly to a halt. Lifting her hand, she shielded her eyes from the glare of the sunlight and peered at the approaching aircraft. They were much closer now; still coming toward the routing complex, traveling much faster than she'd realized. She watched them come, feeling her tail picking up speed of its own....

And then suddenly they were there, shooting not quite directly overhead, with a roar and a blast of heat and a violent thunderclap that nearly slammed her to the ground. Three small aircraft, colored black and white, rapidly shrinking again to tiny dots as they made for the horizon.

Like nothing Klnn-dawan-a had ever seen before.

Too late now—far too late—the warning sirens were starting to blare around her. In the near distance she could hear the roar of Stingbirds and other warrior aircraft as they scrambled for pursuit, adding more useless noise to that already filling the complex. Klnn-dawan-a stared at the receding aircraft, feeling suddenly naked and helpless and terrified beneath the empty sky. The comforting sense of safety and seclusion was gone, never to return.

The Human-Conquerors had found them.

Copyright © 1995 by Timothy Zahn.

Cover art copyright © 1995 by Paul Youll.

ISBN: 0-553-56772-1