Timothy Zahn - Conquerors' Legacy

He took a deep breath, throwing a sour look at Cavanagh. "In case that happens, there's something the Overclan Prime needs to know. The weapon CIRCE that he's so afraid of doesn't exist. Never has existed. Do you understand?"

"I am not sure," Thrr't-rokik said, his expression odd. "The Zhirrzh have read about it. Pheylan Cavanagh spoke of it."

"He was lied to," Bronski said. "All of us were, for a long time. But what I'm telling you now is the truth. The Zhirrzh have nothing to fear from CIRCE, or from the Commonwealth. Make sure the Overclan Prime knows that."

"I obey," Thrr't-rokik said. "I thank you, and I will return your trust to you."

He vanished. "What did he mean by that?" Cavanagh asked.

"No idea," Bronski said. "But we haven't got time to wait and find out. Come on.'

He led the way out into the night. All three of Mra's moons were in the sky overhead, bathing the ground in a pale yellowish light. "What now?" Cavanagh whispered as Bronski moved carefully forward. "We make a run for it?"

"I'm worried about those sentry holes," the brigadier said, nodding toward the flanking rock walls where the Bhurtala had been hidden earlier. "We're only assuming this is what Valloittaja has in mind."

And then Thrr't-rokik was back. "There are three Mrach aircraft waiting around the curve of rock," he said, his tongue flicking to point to the left. "Two more there"—the tongue flicked right—"and five behind the rock above."

"Check over there," Cavanagh told him, pointing to the sentry holes. "Inside holes in the rock. See if anyone's hiding there."

The ghost flicked away; flicked back. "No one is there."

"I could get used to having these guys around," Bronski said dryly. "Go."

They made it to the aircar without incident. Bronski slipped into the pilot's seat and gave the control board a quick but careful scan. He keyed the main power control, and the board lit up with muted light. "Cross your fingers, gentlemen," he said. "Here goes."

"How are you going to evade those Mrachani aircars?" Cavanagh asked.

Bronski threw him a tight smile. "As a matter of fact," he said, "I'm not even going to try."

The roar of approaching aircars was audible as Melinda flattened herself against the side of the Peacekeeper aircar, her breath coming in quick, hot gasps. There were Zhirrzh all across the field, dimly visible in the sunset's fading afterglow. Some were still on their feet, swaying with the disorienting loss of balance the radio was causing; most had already conceded defeat and were lying on the ground twitching. Helpless and harmless.

But that would change. In approximately thirty seconds.

"Cavanagh?"

Melinda jumped. "Who—"

"Janovetz, Doctor," the other identified himself, rolling out from beneath the aircar. He, too, had gotten rid of his obedience suit. "Figured you'd come here if you got free. Where's Commander Cavanagh?"

"He's all right for now," Melinda told him. "We've got to get inside the aircar and tell Colonel Holloway to stop his attack."

"You've got to be kidding," Janovetz said. "Something's happened to all the Zhirrzh—this is the perfect time for an attack."

"I know what's happened," Melinda said. She had a flash of inspiration— "It's a trap."

"I should have guessed," Janovetz muttered. "Come on."

They circled around the aircar's nose to the landing ramp. Two Zhirrzh were twitching on the ground at the foot; passing between them, Janovetz ran up the ramp and ducked through the hatchway. Hopping up behind him, Melinda followed—

And suddenly Janovetz tumbled back out again, flopping with a terrible crash onto his back on the ramp.

"Janovetz!" Melinda gasped, dropping onto her knees at his side. Even in the dim light she could see the dark bloodstain slowly spreading over his chest and shoulder. Reflexively, she reached for a sleeve to tear for a bandage, stopped with a curse as her fingers hit bare skin, and instead felt for the wound. Not in the neck as she'd feared, but higher up on the cheek. At least he wouldn't bleed to death.

But there was Zhirrzh tongue poison in the wound. If it wasn't treated quickly...

His eyes fluttered open. "Leave me," he whispered. "Warn... the colonel."

Melinda blinked away sudden tears. "I will," she promised. She scrambled back to her feet—

And stopped. A Zhirrzh was standing in front of her, just inside the hatchway, one hand gripping his side, but otherwise apparently unaffected by the Elderdeath weapon blazing across the landing field.

Standing inside the shielding effects of the metal hull.

"I have to get through," she said, knowing even as she spoke that her human words probably wouldn't be understood. "Please. I have to stop this attack."

The Zhirrzh didn't reply; but suddenly there was a sharp word from behind her.

Slowly, she turned around. The two Zhirrzh at the foot of the landing ramp were on their feet again, their weapons and eyes pointed directly at her. All around the landing field, the rest of the Zhirrzh were coming back to life.

Following her instructions, Pheylan had destroyed the radio.

A half-dozen other Zhirrzh were hurrying up now, forming a semicircle around the foot of the ramp. As with the first two, their weapons were trained on her. "I have to call Colonel Holloway," she said, raising her voice. Surely someone out there could understand her. "I have to tell him to stop his attack."

None of the warriors replied. But suddenly, from off to her left, came a familiar voice. "Melinda Cavanagh?"

"Thrr-gilag?" she called back in relief. "Come quickly—you have to explain."

Thrr-gilag raced up to the ring of warriors, already talking. The Zhirrzh in the hatchway said something; was answered— "There's no time to argue," Melinda insisted. The sound of the incoming aircars was growing dangerously loud. "Tell him I have to get in there."

Thrr-gilag made a hissing sound. "I am sorry, Melinda Cavanagh," he said. "My brother believes me but cannot order the warriors away. Mnov-korthe has taken command away from him—"

He broke off as a faint Elder voice spoke. Melinda looked around, spotted the pale image beside the Zhirrzh just outside the hatchway. "It is Prr't-zevisti," Thrr-gilag told her. "He is bringing orders from the Overclan Prime for you to be allowed in."

Melinda looked down. Most of the warriors had reluctantly lowered their weapons.

But the original two hadn't moved. One of them spoke— "Thrr-gilag?" Melinda asked.

Thrr-gilag hissed again. "They are Dhaa'rr," he identified them. "They will not accept that Prr't-zevisti is speaking for the Overclan Prime. They will only accept orders from—"

And then, from somewhere across the landing field, another voice joined in. "From Mnov-korthe," Thrr-gilag said, sounding surprised. "But now he too is ordering the Dhaa'rr to let you pass."

Melinda blinked. Considering Mnov-korthe's last views on the subject... but there was no time now to reflect on his change of heart. The last two warriors had lowered their weapons— "Come on," she told Thrr-gilag, hurrying up the ramp. "We'll need your brother, too."

The aircar's control board was laid out differently from the civilian aircars Melinda was used to, but it took only a few seconds to locate the laser comm. "Here goes," she muttered, keying it on and hoping the Zhirrzh techs who'd undoubtedly studied the craft hadn't accidentally disabled it. The lights went on; changed color as the tracking control searched out and found the incoming attack force— "Colonel Holloway, this is Melinda Cavanagh," she called into the mike. "You have to break off the attack. Repeat, you have to break off the attack. Colonel Holloway—"

"This is Holloway," the colonel's voice boomed from the speaker. "Explain."

"The Zhirrzh leaders now know the war's been a mistake," she said. "We've got the beginnings of a cease-fire started, but a battle now could ruin it. Please break off."