Conquerors' Legacy Page 4

  After today their careers were out of danger. The same couldn't be said about their lives. Not with the Zhirrzh out there.

  The Conquerors.

  He took a careful breath. "With your permission, Admiral?"

  "Dismissed, Commander," Rudzinski said softly. "Good luck."

  The Copperheads and Aric Cavanagh had gone their various ways, Admiral Rudzinski had headed back to the war room, the three presiding officers had likewise branched off to attend to business elsewhere, and Petr Bronski had the exit door in sight when the voice he'd been both expecting and dreading came from behind him.

  "A word with you, Mr. Bronski."

  Bronski slowed, half turning to look over his shoulder. Parlimin Jacy VanDiver was coming toward him, the silent bodyguard who'd been sitting beside him at the hearing tagging along. "I'm in something of a hurry, Parlimin VanDiver," he said. "Is this something the Commonwealth diplomatic office on Edo can handle?"

  "No," VanDiver said flatly. "It's not."

  Bronski grimaced to himself. But lowly assistant Commonwealth liaisons did not simply ignore senior NorCoord political powerhouses. "Yes, sir," he said, coming to a stop.

  The bodyguard was good, all right. VanDiver didn't have to say a word; the other simply stepped to the nearest door-a media communications-processing office, from the tag on the wall beside it-glanced briefly inside, then nodded to his boss. "In here, Mr. Bronski," VanDiver said, waving at the open door. "If you don't mind."

  As if he had a real choice in the matter. "Yes, sir," Bronski said. Stepping past beneath the bodyguard's watchful eye, he went inside.

  The office contained four cluttered desks-currently unoccupied-drawn up like beleaguered soldiers around a centralized SieTec transfer-node computer terminal. VanDiver and the bodyguard came in behind him, the latter closing the door and taking up position beside it. "Have a seat?" VanDiver invited, sitting down at one of the desks and waving Bronski to his choice of the others.

  "Thank you," Bronski said, choosing a seat that put the SieTec more or less between him and the bodyguard. "I have to tell you, sir, that I'm due at the Commonwealth liaison center in thirty minutes."

  "I'll make it brief," VanDiver said. "I overheard your conversation a few minutes ago with Admiral Rudzinski and the Cavanagh boys. You lied to them."

  He wasn't one for shaving words, that was for sure. "That's an interesting accusation, sir."

  VanDiver lifted his eyebrows. "Is that all the reaction I get? No denials or cries of indignation? No reddening of the face at such an insult to your integrity?"

  Bronski sighed. "I'm a very lowly Commonwealth civil servant, Parlimin," he reminded the other. "We're not encouraged to talk back to NorCoord government officials."

  VanDiver leaned back in his chair. "Yes, Taurin Lee thought that was all there was to you, too," he commented. "You remember Taurin Lee, don't you?"

  "Of course, sir," Bronski said, keeping his voice steady. "Mr. Lee approached my group as we were coming into the Mrapiratta Hotel. He identified himself as your aide, showed me the NorCoord Parliament carte blanche you'd given him, and informed me he'd be joining our meeting with Lord Cavanagh."

  "And after that meeting?"

  "As I told Admiral Rudzinski, we ran into trouble with some Bhurtala," Bronski said. "By the time we'd settled the matter with the Mrach authorities, Lord Cavanagh and his people had left Mra-mig."

  "And Lee?"

  Bronski spread his hands. "I really don't know. He left us while we were discussing the incident with the Mrach authorities."

  VanDiver didn't move, but suddenly there was frost in the air. "That's a lie, Bronski," he said coldly. "Lee was with you when you chased Cavanagh to the Yycroman world of Phormbi. I have a skitter report from him from Mra-mig telling me you'd all be leaving within the hour."

  Silently, Bronski bit down on the inside of his cheek. He would have sworn that Lee hadn't had a single chance during their time together to sneak any kind of message off to anyone. Apparently, the man was sharper than he'd realized. "With all due respect, Parlimin, I don't know what you're talking about," he told VanDiver, putting a slightly uncertain earnestness in his tone. "Perhaps he'd planned to join us for our trip, but if he did, he never talked to me about doing so."

  VanDiver's expression cracked, just a little. So he wasn't absolutely certain. "You didn't say anything about this other trip to Admiral Rudzinski just now."

  Bronski shrugged. "I didn't think there was any point in mentioning it, since we failed to find Lord Cavanagh on Phormbi. It's all in the complete report I filed."

  "I'll make sure I get a copy," VanDiver said darkly. "Curious, isn't it? Stewart Cavanagh disappears, and no one can find him. At approximately the same time, at approximately the same place, one of my aides also vanishes. Coincidence, Mr. Bronski?"

  Bronski put on his best bewildered frown. "Mr. Lee has vanished? When?"

  "Apparently right after he sent that message from Mra-mig," VanDiver told him. "At least no one's heard from him since then."

  "I see," Bronski murmured. "I don't know what to say, Parlimin VanDiver, except that I'll certainly initiate inquiries as soon as I get back to the consulate on Mra-ect." He half rose to his feet. "If that's all, sir, I really do have to be going."

  "Sit down, Bronski," VanDiver said coldly. "I'm not finished."

  Silently, Bronski lowered himself back into his chair. "Yes, sir?"

  For a long moment VanDiver gazed at him, his face hard and angry and suspicious. "I don't know exactly what's going on here," he said at last. "But I can guess enough of it. Cavanagh's up to something, something on the edge of illegal or a little ways over the line, and he's got his old friends in Parliament and the Peacekeepers busy smoothing the track or looking the other way. This so-called hearing was just dripping with paybacks, from Admiral Rudzinski on down. Typical Cavanagh, all the way across the board."

  His expression hardened a little more. "But this time it isn't going to fly. I'm going to take him down; and everyone who's tied in with him is going down, too.Everyone, Bronski. Do I make myself clear?"

  Bronski nodded, appreciating the irony of it all. He was probably the last person in the entire Commonwealth interested in doing favors for Lord Stewart Cavanagh. "Very clear, sir," he said evenly. "May I go now?"

  Slowly, VanDiver leaned back in his chair. "You're a cool one, Bronski," he said. "We'll see how cool you manage to stay."

  "Yes, sir," Bronski said noncommittally, standing up and sidling past the bodyguard. "Good day to you, Parlimin."

  He went through the exit door, passing between the two Peacekeeper Marines who guarded this entrance to the base proper, and walked into the public reception area. Garcia was waiting for him there, lounging inconspicuously in one of the back chairs reading his plate. "Well?" Bronski asked without preamble as the other scrambled to his feet.

  "He left eight minutes ago," Garcia said, falling into step beside Bronski. "Daschka's on him. What kept you?"

  "An inflated mouth with a NorCoord Parlimin attached," Bronski growled. "We'd better watch this VanDiver character-he's already nibbling around the edges of this thing. Anything new at this end?"

  "Nothing significant," Garcia said as they walked through the outer door into the warm Edo air. "Aric Cavanagh made one phone call, to that CavTronics parasentient computer aboard the fueler they used."

  "Yeah, they did a linkage to him in the hearing room," Bronski said sourly. "Don't think I'd want him testifying for me if I were in trouble. What did Cavanagh say?"

  "Only that he had a few details to clear up here on Edo and that after that they'd be heading to Avon together."

  Inside his tunic Bronski's phone vibrated. He pulled it out and flipped it on. "Bronski."

  Daschka's face appeared on the display. "Sir, I'm at the Kyura skitter depot," he said. "Aric Cavanagh just picked up a message."

  Bronski threw a glance at Garcia. "You were supposed to put a flagger on any messages coming in for either of
the Cavanaghs."

  "Yes, sir, I did," Daschka said, his lip twisting in annoyance. "Obviously wasn't address-keyed by either of their names or by any obvious aliases. He spent a lot of time at the terminal, too-seemed to be referring to his plate through most of it."

  "Some code name, then," Garcia suggested. "Set up in advance."

  "Probably," Daschka agreed. "Do you want me to pick him up?"

  Bronski rubbed his fingers together, trying to think this through. He had so few men here, and arresting Aric Cavanagh might draw too much unwelcome attention his direction. "Let's give him free track a little longer," he told Daschka. "Stay on him-see what he does. I'll send Cho Ming over to the depot and start a search on the messages. See if we can dig out which one he picked up."

  "Right."

  The screen went blank. "Going to take a lot of digging," Garcia pointed out as they headed across the parking area toward their car. "Seems to me about time we called in some reinforcements."

  "We don't need reinforcements," Bronski said. "We can handle this ourselves."

  "Yes, sir," Garcia said. "You know, of course, that pulling Cho Ming off the fueler will leave it unguarded."

  "I don't care about the fueler," Bronski said tartly. "I don't really care about Aric Cavanagh, either. The point of this exercise is to get to Aric's daddy."

  "Yes, sir," Garcia murmured.

  He was wondering, Bronski knew. All of them were. Wondering what was so important about a middle-aged former NorCoord Parlimin that Bronski had pulled them off important surveillance duties in Mrach space to chase the man down. Most of them probably thought it was a personal vendetta of some kind. Wounded pride, maybe, for the way Lord Cavanagh and his bodyguard had left him trussed like a prize turkey back on Mra-mig.

  He couldn't tell them the real reason. Not unless he wanted them to join Taurin Lee in the private quarantine he'd had set up on Mra-ect.

  Eventually, of course, they would all wind up in quarantine, Bronski himself included. But not yet. Not until they could take Lord Cavanagh in with them.

  Because like Lee, Cavanagh now knew the truth about CIRCE: that the legendary weapon whose existence had allowed the Northern Coordinate Union to dominate Commonwealth politics for nearly forty years didn't exist. Knew that it had, in fact, never existed.

  And there was no way Bronski was going to let that truth leak out to a populace desperately counting on CIRCE to save them from the Conquerors. No way in hell. Wherever Cavanagh had gone to ground, they were going to find him.

  And were going to silence him. One way or another.

  Assistant Liaison Bronski and his companion exit the Peacekeeper base reception area 18.14 minutes after the adjournment of the hearing, leaving the active range of terminals to which I have access. I continue to observe Parlimin Jacy VanDiver and his companion, but their conversation is minimal and gains me no new data. Three point eight seven minutes after Assistant Liaison Bronski leaves, they too exit the base.

  I withdraw my linkage from the base computer system and consider this new data. Particularly disturbing to me is the implication that Lord Cavanagh has not been heard from recently. I replay the conversation many times, studying the facial and body expressions and auditory tones used by Assistant Liaison Bronski and Parlimin VanDiver. One of Assistant Liaison Bronski's comments in particular I find most intriguing: "We'd better watch this VanDiver character-he's already nibbling around the edges of this thing."

  The antecedent of the wordthingis unspecified; however, I calculate a probability of 0.93 that it refers to data not yet accessible to me. I continue with my analysis, but repeated iterations quickly diverge to inconclusive results. There are several possible explanatory theories, but none has a probability higher than 0.05. More data is needed.

  Perhaps Aric Cavanagh will be able to supply the key information. He has stated that he will join me soon. I will therefore be patient and make plans to discuss this matter with him then.

  4

  It had been renamed theClosed Mouth; and as Zhirrzh warships went, it was pretty unimpressive. A midsized patrol ship designed for surveillance duty over encircled non-Zhirrzh worlds, it had spent the past eight fullarcs having over half its already modest armament hastily stripped from it. Ship Commander Sps-kudah; Pllaa'rr had bitterly protested that decision, but the protests had gone unheeded by the Overclan Prime and Warrior Command both. TheClosed Mouth was going on a diplomatic mission, and diplomatic missions weren't supposed to require large quantities of firepower.

  Gazing at the ship as it was towed out of the spacecraft service building into launch position, Searcher Nzz-oonaz could only hope that assessment was right.

  "You don't look entirely pleased, Searcher," a voice said from just behind him.

  Nzz-oonaz pulled his tongue back inside his mouth-he hadn't realized until that beat that he'd been grimacing so openly. "I'm sorry, Overclan Prime," he apologized. "I didn't mean any disrespect."

  "I'm sure you didn't." The Prime flicked his tongue toward theClosed Mouth. "Having a Zhirrzh warship show up unannounced is going to be frightening enough, Searcher. We don't want it bristling with obvious weaponry as well. That's also why we decided to send only one ship, instead of a group."

  "I understand," Nzz-oonaz nodded. Though the way he'd heard it, the main reason the mission had been reduced to a single ship was because Warrior Command couldn't spare any more from the war effort. "It's just that I'm still not convinced the Mrachanis are quite the innocent victims of Human-Conqueror aggression that they claim to be."

  "I know you're not," the Prime said gravely. "That's why I assigned you to be speaker of this mission."

  Nzz-oonaz flicked his tongue in another grimace, thinking back to the two Mrachani prisoners his study group had brought here from Base World 12 after the escape of the Human-Conqueror Pheylan Cavanagh. The prisoners had claimed to be ambassadors, sent to ask for an alliance between the Mrachanis and the Zhirrzh, before their sudden deaths had put an end to any further discussion.

  Their sudden and mysterious deaths, of undetermined and equally mysterious injuries or illnesses. Suspicious deaths, in Nzz-oonaz's estimation. Despite that, he and Thrr-gilag had been the only two of the study group to express any doubts about the Mrachanis and their intentions.

  And for expressing such doubts, Thrr-gilag had been summarily dropped from this mission to the Mrachani homeworld.

  No one was saying it that explicitly, of course. But Nzz-oonaz knew how to sift through the gaps between words. He'd seen how the Speaker for Dhaa'rr spoke to Thrr-gilag; had seen the long history of clan rivalry between the Dhaa'rr and the Kee'rr clans focused and concentrated into the Speaker's dislike for the young Kee'rr searcher.

  The young Kee'rr searcher who was also bond-engaged to a Dhaa'rr female. That alone would have guaranteed animosity from someone with Speaker Cvv-panav's narrow-minded views of proper clan separation.

  Still, Nzz-oonaz would have expected Thrr-gilag to come by and wish the study group good luck. Could his absence have another, more ominous significance?

  "Don't worry too much about the details of the negotiations," the Prime said. "Your Elders will be watching everything that's done or said on Mra and giving us continuous reports. Just be sure you don't reveal their presence to your hosts."

  He lowered his voice. "And remember, too, that one of your first priorities is to learn more about CIRCE. They're anxious to talk about it-the persistence of the two Mrachanis on Dorcas proves that much. I want to know everything they can tell us about the weapon."

  An Elder appeared in front of them. "Searcher Nzz-oonaz, Ship Commander Sps-kudah reports theClosed Mouth is ready to lift," she said. "He requests you come aboard immediately."

  Nzz-oonaz flicked his tongue in a wry smile. So Ship Commander Sps-kudah was moving quickly to establish his authority on this mission. Thrr-gilag had run into the same thing from his ship commander as their study group was evacuating Base World 12. It was just as important that Nzz-oonaz
leave no doubt as to who the speaker was here. "Tell Ship Commander Sps-kudah I'll be there when I'm ready," he instructed the Elder.

  "I obey," she said, and vanished.

  "Very good," the Prime said approvingly. "Remember to show the same authority in front of the Mrachanis, and all should be well."

  "I'll do my best," Nzz-oonaz promised.

  "I know you will." Again the Prime lowered his voice. "One more thought, and then you should leave. Be wary of Searcher Gll-borgiv. Speaker Cvv-panav has ambitious political aspirations, for both himself and the entire Dhaa'rr clan. Gll-borgiv may have received private instructions from him concerning this mission."