Timothy Zahn - Conquerors' Legacy

Colonel Pemberton reaches the hatch and enters the lift cage. I start it down the side of the fueler. "I must agree with the colonel, Commander, that this is an unreasonable risk for you to take. A surveillance ship from Edo could transmit the data via laser to the Dorcas Peacekeepers."

Commander Cavanagh begins strapping himself to the jump seat for lift. "Except that I can't trust Edo to necessarily follow through." He pauses 0.92 second. "Besides, even if Williams's technique flames out, you've got a supply of fuel aboard that they probably desperately need. That alone would make the trip worthwhile."

Colonel Pemberton reaches the ground. Leaving the lift cage, she heads at a brisk jog away from the fueler. I begin bringing the lift cage back up. "I understand."

"Good." Commander Cavanagh completes the strapping-in procedure. "I'm ready. Where's Colonel Pemberton?"

Colonel Pemberton is still moving away. The lift cage is in position, and I rotate it securely into its storage compartment. "She is fifty-two meters from the base of the fueler, moving northeast. Established unprotected safety distance is sixty meters."

"Let her get at least seventy—I don't want to take any chance of hurting her. Or anyone else, for that matter."

I scan the area with my external cameras. There is no one else nearby. "I trust you also understand that there is a significant probability that Melinda Cavanagh will not have survived the Zhirrzh attack."

Commander Cavanagh's jaw muscles tighten noticeably. The algorithms indicate dread. "I know that, Max. But she and Aric got me out of this place. I have to try to help them."

I spend 0.02 second considering this comment, then spend another 0.04 second reviewing the previous conversation. At no time was Aric Cavanagh's name even mentioned. "Where does Aric fit into this?"

Commander Cavanagh smiles, some of his dread masked behind forced humor. "Oh, come on, Max. Where else do you think he and Dad have disappeared to?"

I spend an additional 0.05 second examining this statement. Commander Cavanagh's inference is obvious, but I can detect no logical pathway to such a conclusion. "Are you suggesting they're also on Dorcas?"

"With Melinda in danger there? Where else would they go?"

"I presume the question is rhetorical. The conclusion is nevertheless extravagant conjecture."

Commander Cavanagh shakes his head, his expression indicating complete certainty. "I know my family, Max. They got me out from under the Zhirrzh; now they've gone to get Melinda out. I'll bet you my pension they're there."

"I don't gamble, Commander." I spend 0.06 second reviewing Peacekeeper regulations. "Besides which, if you're convicted at a court-martial, you'll no longer have a pension."

Commander Cavanagh's expression puckers oddly. "And they say parasentients don't have a sense of humor. Is Pemberton clear yet?"

Colonel Pemberton is 82.74 meters from the fueler. "Yes."

"I was a little worried myself," Doctor-Cavan-a said, closing the door behind her.

For a few beats Prr't-zevisti studied her face. An alien face, its display of emotions dark to his understanding. Even so, there was something about it that disturbed him. "You were gone a long time," he said, trying hard to wring some meaning from that face. "Has something happen?"

"My commander thinks you are lying to me," Doctor-Cavan-a said. "He thinks you can talk from here to your commander."

Prr't-zevisti stared at her, the very bluntness of the accusation startling him into silence. "I do not lie to you," he protested. "Why does your commander think I do?"

"Your commander attacked a place they shouldn't have known about."

"Why shouldn't they have know about the place?" Prr't-zevisti asked. "Is it hid from the Elders?"

Doctor-Cavan-a turned her head back and forth to the side. "Sorry. I meant to say they shouldn't have known the (something) of the place."

Prr't-zevisti flicked his tongue in perplexity. "I don't know that word, the one before 'of the place.' "

"It means the purpose or possible purpose."

Significance: purpose or possible purpose. Prr't-zevisti tucked the word and its definition away in his ever-increasing Human vocabulary. "Why does your commander think Zhirrzh activeness at the place has significance? Commander Thrr-mezaz sees much, and is curious about all."

"That is possible," Doctor-Cavan-a said. "But my commander does not think we can take that risk."

"The risk is that the war continue," Prr't-zevisti snapped. "Does he not accept that truth?"

"He does not yet accept that it is truth," Doctor-Cavan-a said. "He sees that the truth might be different: that you are a spy."

For a handful of beats Prr't-zevisti gazed at her alien face. "What about you, Doctor-Cavan-a? What do you accept?"

Again Doctor-Cavan-a turned her head back and forth to the side. "I do not know," she said. "We will think more. It is possible we will yet accept that you do not lie."

Prr't-zevisti flicked his tongue, this time in exasperation. The Humans and Zhirrzh were poised for wholesale slaughter of each other; and here was their only way out, blocked by the paranoid fears of a minor Human warrior commander. What in the eighteen worlds did he think was up here that was worth spying on, anyway? "How can I prove my truth?" he demanded.

"I do not know any way," Doctor-Cavan-a said, her voice quiet. "I am sorry."

For a few beats the metal room was silent. The metal prison. "Then what do we do?" Prr't-zevisti asked at last. "How can we stop the war?"

"I do not know any way," Doctor-Cavan-a said again. "We must try to think of a way."

She turned around and pushed the door open just far enough for her to slip through. "You go?" Prr't-zevisti asked.

"I must go," Doctor-Cavan-a said. "My commander has ordered me to stay away from you until he decides."

"But—"

"I am sorry, Prr't-zevisti. Farewell for now."

She slipped out through the opening, swinging the door shut behind her. It closed with a muffled boom.

And Prr't-zevisti was once again alone.

"The fools," he murmured aloud. "The irresponsible fools."

The words echoed through his mind and faded into silence. So it was over. His own people had abandoned him here; and now the Humans themselves had rejected the truth.

Which made them doubly fools, because with that rejection they had resigned themselves to their own destruction. The Zhirrzh warriors would win this war, just as they always won. And it would serve the Humans right.

He flicked his tongue in disgust. It would serve them right... but he knew perfectly well that he couldn't just sit by and let that happen. Not if there was any way to stop it. He'd been a warrior once, a warrior of the proud and noble Dhaa'rr clan. True warriors made war only in self-defense.

Which meant he would just have to find a way to convince Doctor-Cavan-a and her Human commander that he was telling the truth.

And hope that until then neither the Humans nor the Zhirrzh did anything that would inflame the war so much that nothing he could do would stop it.

Bronski shook his head. "I don't know, Cavanagh. It seems to me that if it was this easy, someone at Command would have come up with it by now."

"There's a good chance someone has," Lord Cavanagh said, running his eye over the numbers one more time. With access to Bronski's ship computer he'd finally been able to nail down the idea that had been floating nebulously around his mind during all those days stuck on Granparra. "On the other hand, maybe not. Peacekeeper Command may be concentrating on high heat-capacity materials. If they're even experimenting with ablative coatings at all."