Timothy Zahn - Conquerors' Legacy

"What do you think the pyramid's significance is?" Pemberton asked.

"I really don't know," Pheylan said. "I came up with all sorts of crazy ideas, but, of course, I never got close enough to see those sausage slices Aric told me were in the niches in the one the Copperheads found."

"Which doesn't necessarily mean this pyramid had the same sausage slices," Pemberton pointed out. "Or that it even had the same purpose. The Zhirrzh may simply like pyramids."

Pheylan shrugged. "Maybe. On the other hand, they build their ships and buildings out of hexagons."

"So why use pyramids for these other structures?" Pemberton asked.

How the hell should I know? With an effort Pheylan bit down on the retort. Wild hunches and educated guesses were why he was there, after all. "Historical reasons, maybe," he suggested. "Maybe there's a long tradition behind the pyramid design for these things and they want to stay with it. Or maybe they're deliberately designed to look different from other kinds of structures."

"For what reason?" Pemberton asked.

"A warning to strangers to stay away, maybe," Pheylan said. "A warning to other Zhirrzh, even—there could easily be subtle markings on the pyramids we humans wouldn't immediately pick up on."

"Perhaps," Pemberton said. "Anything else?"

Pheylan grimaced. Wild hunches... "Or else the shape is purely functional," he said. "Maybe the pyramids are electronic devices. Or weapons."

"What kind of weapons?" Pemberton asked.

Pheylan glanced at Williams. The engineer seemed to have dropped out of this part of the conversation. "Well, I suppose it sounds crazy now, but for a while I wondered if it could be a component for a CIRCE-type weapon."

"Why do you think that sounds crazy?"

"Because I know now this was just a base and not a whole Zhirrzh colony world," Pheylan said. "Not worth bringing in huge amounts of ordnance to protect. Also because they didn't use any exotic weaponry against the Copperhead rescue team, and because they cut and ran instead of waiting to fight the follow-up Peacekeeper force. Finally, because they apparently haven't used anything like CIRCE against the Commonwealth."

"I see," Pemberton said. "Were you aware that each of the Zhirrzh occupation forces has set up at least four of these same pyramids in or around their beachheads?"

Pheylan frowned. "No, I wasn't," he said slowly. "The same kind of pyramid?"

"They look the same on long-range scans," the colonel said. "Beyond that we don't know."

Pheylan stroked the smooth strands of the fence. "Could they have some religious significance, then?" he suggested. "Like a temple or shrine or something?"

"That's a possibility," Pemberton agreed. "Did you ever see any of the Zhirrzh worship or meditate at the pyramid here?"

Pheylan searched his memory. "As far as I can remember, I never even saw any of them go near it," he said. "Except for the guards in the domes, of course."

"I see," Pemberton said, her voice noncommittal. "Well, keep thinking. Perhaps something will come to you."

"Perhaps," Pheylan said. "You're a psychologist, aren't you, Colonel?"

She smiled faintly, the first smile he'd yet seen from her. "Cognitive analyst, actually," she corrected. "My particular specialty is the gleaning of little bits of information from damaged or reluctant minds."

"And which one does mine qualify as?"

She shrugged. "The techniques are basically the same. I'm here to help you dredge up anything you might have seen or heard that could help us in our defense against the Zhirrzh." She cocked her head to the side. "Does my presence or profession bother you?"

Pheylan shook his head. "Melinda took a unit of psychology when she was in med school," he said, a lump again forming in his throat at the reminder of the danger his sister was in. "She spent the entire term break afterward practicing it on my brother and me. Just about drove us crazy."

"You're worried about her, aren't you?" Pemberton asked quietly.

Pheylan looked out at the alien landscape beyond the fence. "I asked to be assigned to whatever force will be going to Dorcas," he said. "They sent me here instead."

"I'm sure Admiral Rudzinski had his reasons," Pemberton said. "There may be something of vital significance here that no one but you would recognize."

"Yes," Pheylan murmured. "Maybe."

He took a deep breath of the pungent air, turned back to face the two of them. "If I do, we're not going to dig it out standing here chatting. Let's get back to the complex."

He spent the rest of the day in the Zhirrzh building complex, watching as Williams's analysis team carried out tests on the ceramic walls, or just wandering around the building and grounds, looking and remembering. When night fell, he returned to the team's laboratory ship, spending a couple more hours dictating his thoughts and impressions into a recorder before retiring to one of the bunks for a fitful night's sleep.

He spent the second day lounging on a cot inside his old prison cell, gazing out through the glass wall and describing for three of the techs the various pieces of Zhirrzh equipment that had been set up around the room. At Colonel Pemberton's suggestion he spent the night there as well. Another night of restive sleep, as it turned out, but without the nightmares he'd been expecting.

Without the nightmares; but with a lot of thinking, particularly in the quiet of the early-morning hours. And by the time the camp began to come alive again, he had come to some unpleasant conclusions.

"Good morning, Commander," Colonel Pemberton greeted him as he entered the main analysis room aboard the laboratory ship. "How did you sleep?"

"Not too badly," Pheylan told her. "I wonder if I could have a private word with you, Colonel."

"Certainly," she said, waving a hand toward a small office that opened off the analysis room. "This way."

He waited until the door had closed behind them. "I'd like to know, Colonel, what exactly I'm doing here," he said. "The truth, I mean."

"Is that all?" she said, frowning. "I thought Admiral Rudzinski laid that out for you back on Edo."

"He gave me the official reason," Pheylan said. "I'm asking for the real reason."

Her eyes flicked thoughtfully across his face. "Can you at least give me a hint?" she asked.

So she was going to play dumb. Pheylan had rather expected she would. "Sure," he said. "To put it in a nutshell, there's nothing here for me to do. The engineers and techs have the analysis part well under control, I've already described at the Edo debriefings everything I saw or did here, and there are no artifacts, tools, or even unexplained skid marks for me to look at."

"Don't you think you're being a little hasty in your judgment?" Pemberton suggested mildly. "You've only been here two days."

"Two days has been enough," Pheylan said. "More than enough, in fact. I'm wasting my time, pure and simple."

"So what would you like me to do about it?" Pemberton lifted an eyebrow. "I presume you do want me to do something about it."

"Yes," Pheylan acknowledged. "I'd like to request a reassignment back to Edo and back into the war."

Pemberton shook her head. "I wish I could help you, Commander," she said. "But I don't think I can."

"Why not? You're the senior officer here, aren't you?"

"I'm a tech officer, Commander," she explained patiently. "This is a tech group. I don't have any command authority outside this unit. I certainly can't cut reassignment orders."

"Then let me go back to Edo on the skitter with your next report," Pheylan persisted. "I can talk to someone in Admiral Rudzinski's office—"

"Commander." Pemberton held up a hand. "I understand your eagerness to get back into action, and the irritation of feeling like you're wasting your time. But we all have a part to play in this war, and every part is equally important. Even if it's not the part you would have chosen for yourself."