Conquerors' Legacy (27 page)

"Then we're in trouble," Bronski agreed. "Let's go to Mra and see if we can find out."
14
The landing field was small but crowded, with hundreds of Zhirrzh working busily in and around the twenty-odd ships of various sizes and configurations preparing for their turn to lift into the sky. Loading vehicles wove their way through the crowds, bringing supplies and armaments and fuel to the ships; floaters carried crew members, technics, and at least one overelaborately dressed Zhirrzh who appeared to be a Dhaa'rr-clan leader on an inspection tour. Over and through everything fluttered the usual cloud of Elders, flickering in and out like dusk-glow insects as they brought messages to and from everyone in sight.
Casually, methodically, Thrr't-rokik wove in and out of the ships along with them, giving each person he passed a quick but careful look, fighting against a growing taste of hopelessness. The long trail had led here, to that transport sitting out in the parking area; but he'd been searching for nearly twenty hunbeats now and had found no sign of the two Zhirrzh. Perhaps they hadn't come onto the landing field, or perhaps they had already left on a spaceship or another transport. Or perhaps they had never been there at all. Perhaps they weren't even the ones using that particular transport anymore. He and Thrr-tulkoj might be on the wrong trail entirely-
And then, suddenly, there they were, walking up a landing ramp into the next ship over, warrior-style travel bags slung over their shoulders.
Thrr't-rokik was inside the entry hatchway in the flick of a beat, easing his face out through the ceramic hull for a closer look. It was them, all right: the two Zhirrzh he'd seen delivering Thrr-pifix-a's stolenfsss organ to her house on that fateful latearc six fullarcs ago.
The taller of the two spotted Thrr't-rokik as they reached the top of the ramp. "You-Elder-go tell the ship commander his passengers are here," he ordered.
"Right away," Thrr't-rokik said, feeling a sudden surge of anticipation. The perfect opportunity to find out who they were. "May I have your names?"
"The ship commander knows who we are," the other Zhirrzh said. "Just tell him we're here."
"Right away," Thrr't-rokik said again, swallowing his disappointment as he dropped into the grayworld. It hadn't worked, but at least now he could go tell Thrr-tulkoj that their search had struck ore.
But not yet. Clearly, the two Zhirrzh had assumed he was one of the ship's communicators. If their message to the ship commander didn't get delivered, they would realize he wasn't, and that could lead to trouble.
Besides, delivering the message might give him another opportunity to get their names. Rising again to the edge of the lightworld, he headed toward the front of the ship.
The control area was easy to find, filling the back half of the first hexagon and looking just as control areas always did in warrior documentaries. Inside were twelve Zhirrzh, busily working at consoles or conversing among themselves, preparing the ship for flight.
Thrr't-rokik looked around at them, wishing fleetingly that his son Thrr-mezaz had chosen to become a ship warrior instead of a ground warrior. He was supposed to find the ship commander, but the insignia threads these Zhirrzh were wearing on their uniforms were well-nigh incomprehensible to him. Still, it stood to reason that the ship commander ought to have the most elaborate set of threads-
One of the warriors glanced up, saw him loitering up there. "Yes, what is it?" he demanded.
Probably not the ship commander, but he would do. "Message from the entry hatchway," Thrr't-rokik told him. "The passengers have arrived."
The Zhirrzh frowned. "What passengers?"
"I don't know," Thrr't-rokik said. "They didn't give me their names."
"It's all right, Third, Speaker Cvv-panav sent them," another Zhirrzh spoke up from across the room. An older Zhirrzh, this one, his tone measured and firm. "There were two of them?"
"Yes, Ship Commander," Thrr't-rokik said, gambling on his identity. "They didn't give me their names."
"That's all right," the ship commander said. "Speaker Cvv-panav didn't give me their names, either. But I know who they are. Tell them they'll be in Stateroom Four, Hexagon Two-I'll check in on them after liftoff."
Thrr't-rokik grimaced to himself. Another failure. "Right away," he said.
"What?" the ship commander barked.
Thrr't-rokik froze, his mind racing. What in the eighteen worlds had he-? "I mean, I obey, Ship Commander," he stammered.
"That's better," the other growled. "What's your name, Elder?"
"Ah-Cvv't-rokik," Thrr't-rokik said, improvising a Dhaa'rr name. "Dhaa'rr."
"The Dhaa'rr part I know, thank you," the ship commander said, flicking his tongue contemptuously. "You wouldn't be aboard this ship otherwise. So you're one of the Speaker for Dhaa'rr's family. I might have known. Let me tell you something, Cvv't-rokik: on a warrior ship, even a lowly supply ship like theWilling Servant, family influence only goes so far. You forget proper warrior discipline and protocol again, and you'll be back in your shrine, drifting on the wind and waiting for the excitement of watching the next sunset. Understood?"
"Yes, Ship Commander," Thrr't-rokik said humbly.
"Good. Now get going."
"I obey, Ship Commander," Thrr't-rokik said, and vanished, embarrassment and self-disgust mixing on his tongue at his blunder.That much about warriors hedid know.
He flicked to the entry hatchway again. The two passengers were waiting inside, their travel bags dropped on the deck at their feet, their expressions beginning to show signs of impatience. "The ship commander bids you welcome," he told them. "You'll be quartered in Stateroom Four, Hexagon Two, and he'll speak with you later."
"Fine," the taller Zhirrzh said. "Which way?"
Thrr't-rokik hadn't the faintest idea, but fortunately he'd anticipated the question. The beat his message was delivered, he dropped deep into the grayworld. With good luck the two passengers would assume he'd merely dashed off on other business and hadn't heard their question.
But whether they assumed that or not, he had no time to waste. He'd found them, and he was not going to let them get away from him.
He flicked back to Thrr-tulkoj, standing unobtrusively among the bustling activity and pretending to check a stack of containers against a list board some careless inspector had left lying around. "I've found them," he murmured to the young protector.
"Where?" Thrr-tulkoj murmured back, still checking the numbers.
"Two ships over," Thrr't-rokik told him, pointing to his right. "They've just gone aboard as passengers on a ship named theWilling Servant. Small ship, only four hexagons."
"Probably a supply ship," Thrr-tulkoj said. "Any idea where it's headed?"
"No," Thrr't-rokik said. "I talked to them, but-"
"You talked to them?" Thrr-tulkoj cut him off. "Right up where they could see you?"
"It's all right, they didn't recognize me," Thrr't-rokik assured him. "The problem is that I wasn't able to find out their names."
Thrr-tulkoj flicked his tongue. "We absolutely need to get those names. Any idea how soon they'll be lifting?"
"No, but I got the feeling it'll be soon," Thrr't-rokik told him. "The control area was very busy."
Thrr-tulkoj nodded grimly. "Well, there's nothing for it, then. I'll just have to go aboard."
"Aboard a Dhaa'rr warship? You can't be serious."
"It's a Zhirrzh warship," Thrr-tulkoj corrected him. "Warrior Command is unified, remember?"
"Trust me, this one's all Dhaa'rr," Thrr't-rokik insisted. "You think Speaker Cvv-panav would trust his agents to just any ship?"
"They're the Speaker for Dhaa'rr's personal agents?" Thrr-tulkoj frowned. "They said that?"
"Not in so many words, but he's the one who sent them here," Thrr't-rokik said. "The ship commander implied he'd spoken personally with the Speaker about them."
Thrr-tulkoj flicked his tongue savagely. "I knew the Speaker was involved in this. Iknew it."
"The ship commander didn't know their names, either," Thrr't-rokik said. "So far as we know, no one in this entire landing area may know their names."
"Are you suggesting we give up?"
"No," Thrr't-rokik said, flicking his tongue in a negative. A decidedly nervous negative. "I'm suggesting that our best chance now is to somehow stow away myfsss cutting on that ship."
Thrr-tulkoj's midlight pupils contracted to slits. "Are you insane?" he hissed.
"Probably," Thrr't-rokik conceded. "But it's the only way.Someone in the eighteen worlds has to know who these two Zhirrzh are. One of us has to be there when that person calls them by name, and I'm the only one who can do that."
Thrr-tulkoj's tongue stabbed out in impotent frustration. "It's wrong," he said flatly. "It's just plain wrong. I'm the protector here. I'm the one who's been trained; I'm the one who's supposed to take these risks."
"You can't take this one," Thrr't-rokik said. "Not unless you want to enlist as a Dhaa'rr warrior. Besides, I'm an Elder. What can they do to me? Come on, we're wasting time."
The hatchway on the third hexagon of theWilling Servant was standing open, with a loader stacked with shipping containers pushed up against a protruding conveyor ramp. Two Zhirrzh were by the conveyor, laboriously transferring the containers from the loader onto the ramp. "Take a look inside the containers on the loader," Thrr-tulkoj murmured as he walked toward the ship. "Find out what's in them. Don't let anyone see you."
"Right." Thrr't-rokik flicked out to the containers, wove in and out of them, flicked back. "The four on the bottom contain packaged food," he told Thrr-tulkoj. "The two on top nearest the ship are optronic modules and parts. The two rear ones are medical supplies."
Thrr-tulkoj nodded. "Looks like they're going into a war zone."
"What out there isn't a war zone?" Thrr't-rokik countered, fighting back the growing rattle of nervousness. After all, whatcould they do to him? "How are you going to get my cutting aboard?"
"I've got an idea." Thrr-tulkoj hesitated. "I'm going to have to take the cutting out of its box, though. It'll be completely unprotected. Can you handle that?"
Thrr't-rokik snorted. "It's not as if it's overly protected now," he reminded the protector.
"It can be damaged," Thrr-tulkoj reminded him. "It can decay, get attacked by animals or insects, maybe even get crushed or burned. Whatever happens to it, you'll feel everything."
Thrr't-rokik had already thought about the possibilities. Hearing them listed aloud wasn't helping. "Let's get on with it."
"All right," Thrr-tulkoj said. "But if you change your mind at any point-"
"Let's get on with it."
Thrr-tulkoj lowered his list board to his waist and under its cover dipped the fingers of his left hand into his waist pouch. Thrr't-rokik heard the click as he opened the small box; felt a flood of warmth and a vaguely unpleasant pressure as the protector picked up the thin sliver that was hisfsss cutting. The pressure changed, becoming decidedly oppressive, as he maneuvered the cutting to a secure but hidden grip at the juncture of finger and thumb. "Here we go," Thrr-tulkoj murmured. "Stay out of sight."
He picked up his pace, striding confidently up to the loader. "Good fullarc," he said briskly to the two Zhirrzh. "I've come for a final cargo check."
"You're a little late," one of the workers said, the last word coming out as a grunt as he and his partner lifted one of the Optronics containers off the loader. "We're nearly finished."
"Besides, it's already been checked once," the other added.
"I know that," Thrr-tulkoj said in a patient tone tinged with just the right edge of official exasperation. "That's why it's called thefinal check. Shut off that conveyor and let me up." Without waiting for them to comply, he reached up, grabbed hold of the railing, and swung himself up toward the hatchway-
And with a startled curse dropped back to the ground, the palm of his right hand welling with blood.
"What happened?" one of the Zhirrzh yelped.
"What do you think?" Thrr-tulkoj snapped back. "I cut my hand. Shut itoff, blast it."
They had already set the container hastily back down again, and now one of them grabbed for the control switch. "How bad is it?" he asked anxiously as the conveyor slowed to a stop.
"Bad enough," Thrr-tulkoj said, wincing dramatically as he peered at the blood. "I caught it on the flange edge. Itold you to shut it down."
"You didn't give us a chance," one of the workers objected. But to Thrr't-rokik the words sounded automatic, with no real conviction behind them. Someone had gotten injured at their workstation, and no matter whose fault it was, it was going to reflect badly on them. "Let me call an Elder and get a healer over here."
"Don't bother the healers," Thrr-tulkoj said, peering briefly at his list board and then setting it down on the Optronics container. "I can handle this. Get that end container open."
The two Zhirrzh exchanged startled glances. "Open a container? But-"
"There are medical supplies in there," Thrr-tulkoj cut him off impatiently. "All I need is a small length of pressure bandage. Now quit arguing and get it open before I bleed myself to Eldership."
The Zhirrzh looked at each other again, then silently moved to the indicated container. Twenty beats later they had it open.
"There-that one," Thrr-tulkoj said, peering into the container and flicking his tongue at a bandage roll tucked into one edge. "Get it out of the sealer and give it to me."
"This is supposed to be for the war effort," one of the Zhirrzh said, glancing around nervously as he pulled the roll out of its plastic sealer and handed it to Thrr-tulkoj.
"What do you think all the rest of us are doing?" Thrr-tulkoj countered, carefully unrolling the end of the bandage and rerolling it around his hand. "It's all war effort these fullarcs, my friend, every bit of it."
He finished the wrapping and tore off the bandage, pressing the loose end against his hand to secure it. "There," he said, holding the hand up for inspection. "Good as new." A short length of the bandage hung loose from the roll; shifting the roll to his bandaged right hand, he smoothed it back into place with his left hand.
And as he did so, he slid the palmedfsss cutting neatly inside the roll.
"All right," he said, handing the roll back to the Zhirrzh holding the plastic sealer. "Seal it up, put it back, close the container, and let's get back to work."
"Well," Thrr-tulkoj said. "Unless there's something else..."
"No, I don't think so," Thrr't-rokik told him, looking around. They were near the main entrance to the landing area, at the very limit of Thrr't-rokik's anchorline, temporarily out of earshot of any of the workers. "I'm all set; and the longer you wait, the better the chance someone's going to ask what you're doing here."