Conquerors' Heritage

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.

22

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 a

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 ru

"(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 a

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—