Timothy Zahn - Conquerors' Heritage

He reached both hands up to his face, to the side where the Elders had discovered the hidden device. The laser rifles lifted again in warning as, slowly and carefully, he began to peel away a section of his skin.

Klnn-vavgi muttered an awed-sounding curse under his breath as the flap of loose skin grew larger. Thrr-mezaz nodded his agreement; Thrr-gilag had never mentioned anything about Human-Conquerors being able to do that.

The edge of the device was visible now: small and flat, very much the same color as the Human-Conqueror's skin but easily distinguishable by the differences in its darklight radiance. He finished with the flap of skin and dropped it onto the bed in front of him; then, just as carefully, he peeled the device itself from its place.

"Drop it on the bed," Thrr-mezaz ordered him. "And then stand away from it."

The prisoner did as instructed. Thrr-mezaz gestured, and one of the warriors gingerly retrieved both the device and the skin flap and handed them over.

"Ycch," Klnn-vavgi growled deep in his throat. "Did you see that, Commander? He just ripped it right off his—"

"It's not skin," Thrr-mezaz said.

"What?"

"It's not skin," Thrr-mezaz repeated, turning it over. "At least not his own skin. See? No blood anywhere."

"Well, I'll be cursed," Klnn-vavgi said, peering closer. "That's an incredibly good imitation."

"I'm sure that was the intent." Thrr-mezaz looked up at the prisoner. "This must have been pretty important for your technics to have gone to so much work to hide it," he commented, hefting the skin-colored device in his other hand. "What is it?"

The Human-Conqueror shook his head back and forth to the side. "It's not a weapon."

"What is it?"

The other remained silent. "Fine," Thrr-mezaz said. "We'll figure it out for ourselves."

He gestured, and together the warriors left the room, locking it securely behind them. "Guard posts as previously," he ordered the warriors when they were out in the cool latearc air again. "Well, Second. Comments?"

"Ten to one it's our Elderdeath weapon," Klnn-vavgi said sourly.

"Yes," Thrr-mezaz murmured, gazing down at the device in his hand. "Perhaps."

"You don't sound convinced."

Thrr-mezaz shrugged. "Oh, you're probably right. It's just that the whole exercise seems to have been pretty futile. Yes, they got us stirred up a little, but that's about it. There was no attack on us, no further attack on the Mrachanis, not even an attempt by the prisoner to break out. So what did it gain them?"

"Information, maybe," Klnn-vavgi suggested. "They know now what levels it takes to affect us."

"They knew that after the first battle," Thrr-mezaz countered. "No, there's something here we're not getting. I just wish we had some idea what it was."

For a beat they stood there in silence. Then, with a sigh, Thrr-mezaz dropped the device and fake skin flap into Klnn-vavgi's hand. "Anyway. See what the technics can make of these."

"Right," Klnn-vavgi said. "You still want them to look at the aircraft, too?"

"Oh, yes," Thrr-mezaz confirmed grimly. "I want them to get in there and tear it apart. Down to individual molecules, if that's what it takes."

"And the prisoner?"

"Yes," Thrr-gilag said, holding up his pass for inspection. "I was told to come here—"

"I know," the Elder cut him off. "The Overclan Prime awaits you in his private chambers. Follow me."

Without waiting for a reply he set off down the corridor. Thrr-gilag followed, his tail spinning nervously behind him. There was trouble in the air. Big trouble. He'd seen it in the hardened faces of the perimeter protectors who had directed him to this particular door instead of to any of the main entrances. He could see it in the eyes of the Overclan warriors whom he passed and could hear it in the low tones as they conversed among themselves as he went by.

Big trouble. And all of it focused on him.

And to Thrr-gilag it was obvious what had happened. Somehow they'd found out about that little stunt he and Klnn-dawan-a had pulled with Prr't-zevisti's fsss back on Dharanv. They'd found out, and he was being led off to summary trial and judgment. All was lost: his career, his honor, his bond-engagement to Klnn-dawan-a. And Prr't-zevisti's last chance for survival.

It was over. And yet, even as Thrr-gilag's emotions swung violently between panic and resignation at the looming disaster, a small part of his mind refused to let go of the nagging sense that something here wasn't right. Why would the Overclan Prime get personally involved with such a sordid matter? For that matter, why had they trusted him to obey the summons to Oaccanv? Shouldn't they at least have brought him back here under warrior guard?

The fears and doubts and apprehensions were still chasing through his mind when he and the Elder arrived at their destination. It was a different room from the private offices he'd been brought to—could it really have been only eight fullarcs ago?—just after the ignominious return of the alien study group from Base World 12. "Enter," the Elder said, and vanished. Trying vainly to slow his tail's dizzying spin, Thrr-gilag gripped the wooden ring and pulled the door open.

It was a smaller room than the Prime's private office had been, and even more simply furnished. But it was imbued with the same sense of age and history. Two Zhirrzh were waiting for him: the Overclan Prime and Speaker Cvv-panav of the Dhaa'rr. "Come in, Searcher Thrr-gilag," the Prime said gravely. "You know the Speaker for Dhaa'rr."

"I do," Thrr-gilag said, nodding respectfully to each of them in turn and noting the odd lack of a kavra -fruit rack. Here in the Prime's private chambers, apparently, such formalities were dispensed with.

"I'm afraid I have bad news for you, Searcher," the Prime said, "concerning a matter of grave importance. For reasons that will become apparent, I've decided to personally intervene. Please; sit down."

Thrr-gilag lowered himself onto the indicated couch, fighting to keep from blurting out the words boiling up within him. Whatever they knew—whatever they thought they knew—he must above all else not help them by volunteering information. He and Thrr-mezaz had fallen into that trap with their parents innumerable times as children. "What is it?" he asked as calmly as he could.

"It concerns your mother, Thrr-pifix-a," the Prime said quietly, his gaze steady on Thrr-gilag's face. "She's been detained on charges of grand-first theft." He paused. "She—or rather, persons unknown employed by her—broke into the Thrr family shrine last latearc. And stole her fsss organ."

Thrr-gilag stared at him, shock freezing his muscles into immobility. "What?" he whispered.

"You heard him," Cvv-panav said, the harshness of his voice slashing across the brittle stillness like a ragged ax against kindling reeds. "She hired some thugs and stole her fsss."

Thrr-gilag looked at him, the face not really registering against the swirling paralysis in his mind. She'd done it. She'd actually done it. His mother had stolen her fsss. Had had it there, in her hands.

There in her hands... "What happened then?" he asked, afraid to hear the answer. "I mean afterward?"

"Don't worry, her fsss was recovered intact," the Prime assured him. "Which is about the only good part of all this. At least she won't have to stand trial for fsss destruction."

Trial. The word sent a fresh shiver through Thrr-gilag. "Will she have to stand trial at all?" he asked. "I mean, if there was no harm done—"

"There was most certainly harm done," Cvv-panav cut him off. "Her thugs broke into the shrine, damaging Thrr property and injuring one of the protectors in the process. That's worth two trials right there." He sniffed contemptuously. "What makes it all the worse is that she refuses even to admit her complicity in the crime. Claims that two unnamed Zhirrzh from a nonexistent organization came to her out of nowhere and offered to help her."