Conquerors' Heritage

10

Long enough, certainly, for her to have changed her mind about what she was pla

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

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

"Who will prove your goodwill and intentions?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heart thudding in her chest, her tail spi

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Prime knew better. The Zhirrzh forces were in fact teetering on the edge of disaster.

The Prime sighed again, leaning back on his couch and staring morosely up at the overview star chart projected on his office wall. The Zhirrzh people didn't realize it, of course. Probably most of the clan Speakers didn't, either. But Warrior Command knew. And so did he.

Because the Human-Conquerors weren't just sitting there accepting their defeats. They'd been taken by surprise, perhaps, by the vigor of the response to their attack on the Zhirrzh survey ships. But that wouldn't last. Already they were gathering their strength and striking back, more often than not with devastating results. The huge Nova-class warcraft mentioned in the captured recorder had made their appearances, as had the awesomely deadly Copperhead warriors. So far all the attacks had been beaten off, but at a steep price. The Kalevala encirclement forces were down to two combat-ready warships; the Massif forces were completely helpless. If the incredibly tough ceramic hulls hadn't disguised the internal damage, the Human-Conquerors would undoubtedly have been back already to finish the job. As it was, the warriors and technics had some breathing space to try to effect repairs.