Conquerors' Legacy

"No," the ghost said, an insubstantial tongue darting out as if for emphasis. "I not speak of escape. I speak of raise to Eldership. Why Pheylan Cavanagh not do that?"

"I don't understand," Cavanagh said. "What did Pheylan do?"

"Not what he do," the ghost said. "What he not do. He not do this." The transparent hands lifted up, closed around his own transparent neck. "Not do this."

Cavanagh shook his head helplessly. Charades had never been his strong point, even within his own family. Trying to figure out the gestures and body language of a totally alien being was going to be well-nigh impossible.

"He's miming strangulation," Kolchin said suddenly. "Or else neck breaking."

"You're right," Bronski agreed. "And Pheylan mentioned that—said he had the interrogator in a neck lock when he hauled him into the Mrach ship. He's asking why Pheylan didn't kill him."

"That can't be," Cavanagh argued. "He just said that—"

And abruptly it hit like a faceful of ice water. Eldership—death—the ghost hovering in front of him—

He took a careful breath. "You're an Elder," he said.

The ghost's head twitched in a not-quite nod. "Yes."

A dense silence seemed to settle into the room. Cavanagh stared at the face before him. "They've conquered death," he heard his voice say. "They've really, truly conquered death."

"Why Pheylan Cavanagh not raise Thrr-gilag to Eldership?"

Cavanagh swallowed hard, trying to gather his wits together. He was asking why Pheylan hadn't killed the interrogator. "I don't know for sure," he said. "Probably because there was no need to. Humans don't kill unless it's absolutely necessary."

"You raise other Zhirrzh to Eldership."

"This war wasn't our idea," Bronski put in. "It was the Zhirrzh who attacked first."

"Not true," the ghost insisted. "Elders say Human-Conquerors attack first."

"Then the Elders are wrong," Bronski said. "We didn't attack first. I know."

The ghost spat something and vanished. Cavanagh waited, but he didn't come back. "Nice job," he said to the brigadier.

"He'll be back," Bronski said, looking around. "We've just shaken his belief in government truthfulness, and he's gone away to think it over. But he'll be back."

Cavanagh eyed him suspiciously. "You seem awfully sure of yourself. What do you know that we don't?"

"I don't actually know anything," Bronski said. He rubbed a sleeve across his forehead, wiping away sweat that had collected despite the coolness of the cell. "I'm following up on the impressions Pheylan had of his captors. He was pretty sure he'd gotten Thrr-gilag thinking about what the Zhirrzh leaders had told them about the Jutland attack. He thought there was a good chance he would look into the matter, maybe spread some of his doubts around to the other Zhirrzh." He gestured toward the ceiling. "This Elder seems to know him. I thought it would be worth trying to give him a little push."

"Perhaps," Cavanagh said. "Not that he has any reason to believe three Human-Conquerors."

From the door came a soft click. "Got it," Kolchin said, withdrawing his probe from the lock mechanism. Getting to his feet, he got a set of fingernails between the door and jamb and eased it open a crack—

And was abruptly thrown backward, spi

And a Bhurt charged into the cell.

Bronski was off his own cot and into a combat stance even before Kolchin had come to a complete stop. Another two seconds and Kolchin was back on balance as well, poised to receive the attack.

But the attack didn't come. The big alien skidded to a stop a meter inside the cell, and for a long moment stood there glowering at each of the humans in turn. "I am ordered not to hurt you," he rumbled at last, backing into the doorway. "Not yet."

He got a grip on the handle and pulled the door closed behind him. It sealed with a solid-sounding thunk.

"You all right?" Cavanagh asked as Kolchin slowly rose out of his combat stance.

"Just feeling stupid," Kolchin said, an edge of bitterness in his voice. "I would have sworn there weren't any guards out there."

"Bhurtala can be amazingly quiet when they want to be," Bronski said. "Don't let it worry you."

"Yeah," Kolchin said. "Right."

Cavanagh patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Zhirrzh Elder?" he called. "Are you still here?"

There was no answer. "Still chewing it over, I guess," Bronski said, resettling himself on his cot. "Until he decides to come back, we might as well get some rest. At least now we know how to open the door. That's something."

"For all the good that does us with a Bhurt outside," Cavanagh pointed out.

Bronski smiled grimly. "Don't worry. We'll think of something."

With an audible exhaling of breath, Melinda Cavanagh straightened and pushed back a few strands of cranial hair that had dropped down across her face. "Finished," she said.

"That's all it takes?" Thrr-gilag asked, frowning at the skintight immobilization cast she had put on Pheylan Cavanagh's left leg. It looked far more fragile than even the light-ceramic casts the Zhirrzh used for broken bones.

"That's it," she assured him, trying to work a finger under one of the magnet rings on her new obedience suit to rub her side. Mnov-korthe had insisted on the obedience suit; pointedly, he'd given the triggers to two of his warriors, not to Thrr-gilag or Kl

Amazing technology, indeed. "He'll be all right, then?"

"He should be fine," she said.

"I'm glad," Thrr-gilag said, looking down into that sleeping alien face. He was glad, he realized suddenly, and not just because it meant he wouldn't lose a potential research subject. Perhaps now he would finally be able to learn why Pheylan Cavanagh hadn't raised him to Eldership when he'd had the chance back on Study World 12.

To his left the door opened, and he turned to see Second Commander Kl

"Commander Kl

"Thank you," Kl

"I thought you were Thrr-mezaz's friend," Thrr-gilag bit out. "Thrr-mezaz thought so, too. I guess we were both wrong."

Kl

"To carry what out?" Thrr-gilag demanded. "He won't even tell me what he's looking for."

"He won't tell me, either," Kl

Thrr-gilag flicked his tongue. "I'm told he'll recover."

"Excellent," Kl

"We'll begin as soon as he's well enough," Thrr-gilag growled. "He has had a serious injury, you know."

"So much the better—you can get baseline data for a Human-Conqueror under injury stress. That could be very useful, couldn't it?"

Thrr-gilag glanced at Melinda Cavanagh and Sergeant Janovetz, who of course had no idea what the conversation was about. "Yes. Perhaps."

"Then it's settled," Kl