The aliens' response was interesting, and far different from the one Thrr-gilag had observed back on Base World 12 from the Human-Conqueror prisoner. Whereas Pheylan Cavanagh had simply shown that his tongue wasn't like those of the Zhirrzh and had offered the kavra back, the two Mrachanis seemed bound and determined to duplicate Thrr-mezaz's action. Their tongues were as unequal to the task as the Human-Conqueror's had been, but they had a go at it anyway. Using the clawlike extensions of his fingers, Lahettilas struggled to dig a short and rather shallow groove in the kavra's skin, while the other alien did likewise with his teeth. Thrr-mezaz watched their efforts with mild interest, trying to decide whether he preferred their attempts to act like Zhirrzh or Pheylan Cavanagh's more honest and straightforward acceptance of his limitations.
It took another hunbeat, but eventually the Mrachanis seemed to decide that they had satisfied whatever honor was inherent in this ritual. Thrr-mezaz handed his kavra back to the warrior, and the aliens did likewise. "Now," Thrr-mezaz said, lowering his hands to drip the remainder of their accumulated juice onto Dorcas's soil, "let us speak. You offer the Zhirrzh your assistance. Tell me why you believe we need such assistance."
His shoulder speaker gave the translation. Thrr-mezaz watched the aliens closely, noticing the sudden stiffening of their fur. A reaction to his question? Lahettilas spoke again—"Surely the Zhirrzh cannot stand alone against the Humans," the translation came. "Surely not against the weapon CIRCE."
Thrr-mezaz frowned. CIRCE? There hadn't been any reference to a weapon called CIRCE in any of the reports he'd read. "The Zhirrzh have mighty weapons, too," he said, wondering if he should ask about this CIRCE thing or pretend he knew all about it. "Perhaps instead we should—"
"Commander Thrr-mezaz!" a thin voice snapped. Thrr-mezaz looked up, to see an Elder hovering directly over the two aliens. "You are to halt this line of questioning immediately."
It was obvious from the way the Mrachanis glanced around that they'd heard the words. Fortunately, by the time they got around to looking up, the Elder was gone. "But this is no place for such discussions," Thrr-mezaz improvised, gesturing again to the warriors and thankful for once that Elder voices couldn't be picked up by optronic microphones. "Your living area is across the landing field. Come with us."
The warriors fell in beside them, and together they all headed across the open space, the spotlights following their path the whole way. Klnn-vavgi and more warriors were waiting for them there, lined up beside the door to the storehouse that they'd hurriedly converted into living quarters for their visitors. "Here is where—" Thrr-mezaz broke off, glancing over his shoulder as the darklight beam connecting him with the interpreter belatedly caught up with him. "Here is where you will stay," he began again. "Two warriors will be on duty outside this door if you need anything. If you will tell me what you need from your spacecraft, I will have it brought to you."
"Thank you," the translator said in Thrr-mezaz's ear slits a few beats later. "Everything we need is in the five cases waiting inside our spacecraft at the top of the ramp. We do not need them quickly."
Or in other words, Lahettilas was fully expecting the Zhirrzh to search their luggage before turning it over to them. Not only expecting it, but rather magnanimously giving them his permission to do so.
Which was just as well. Thrr-mezaz had been planning to search the cases whether they liked it or not. "We will deliver them to you as quickly as possible," he promised the alien. "The warriors will show you inside. Someone will be here later to see you."
"And then there will be talk?" Lahettilas asked.
18
He hoped so. Nearly all of the Elders liked rainstorms, at least the quiet, civilized sort. The steady drumming of rain on the shrine; the gentle, almost tickling sensation of the drops that made it through the insect mesh to dribble onto their preserved fsss organs; the restless, capricious breezes whispering around the shrine's corners—it all made for a welcome change for them. A respite from the dreary routine and decreased sensory abilities that figured so strongly in an Elder's life.
He looked up at the sky again. On second thought, he amended, it would be better if the rain held off until next fullarc or at least much later this latearc. It would be a shame for the fleeting pleasures of a rainstorm to come when the Elders couldn't properly appreciate them. With virtually all of them clustered over in Cliffside Dales right now listening to the speakers at that Overclan-sponsored debate/discussion, the noise of a rainstorm would just be a distraction.
Across the path the other dome opened up, and a young Zhirrzh stepped outside. Thrr-aamr, freshly recruited to the position of protector of the Thrr family shrine. "Good latearc, Protector Thrr-tulkoj," he said, nodding politely at his superior. "You're here rather late."
"And going to be later still," Thrr-tulkoj told him. "I got a message a few hunbeats ago on the direct-link that Thrr-brov is ill, so I'll be taking his shift this latearc."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Thrr-aamr said. "Do you want me to call one of the Elders and have him track down a substitute?"
"Don't bother," Thrr-tulkoj said, flicking his tongue in a negative. "I'm not tired; and anyway, the Elders are all having a big argument over at Cliffside Dales. I wouldn't want to interrupt their fun."
Thrr-aamr grinned. "I understand. Anyway, I've finished the fullarc's statement and sent it across to your recorder for approval. I've also gone ahead and started the twenty-fullarc review of the current shrine population. Is there anything else I should be working on?"
"Nothing comes to mind," Thrr-tulkoj said, frowning at him. "Aren't we about two fullarcs early for a population review?"
Thrr-aamr shrugged. "I thought that, given how quiet it's likely to be this latearc, I might as well go ahead and get it started now."
Thrr-tulkoj smiled wryly. The kid might be young and fresh to the job, but already he'd caught on to the chief reason family shrines still bothered with protectors. Not to protect them, but to have someone on hand at all times for lonely Elders to talk to. "Point well taken," he said. "Sure, keep going with it."
"Yes, Protector."
Thrr-tulkoj glanced at the sky again. "On second thought, as long as you're already on your feet, why don't you go ahead and do a perimeter walk first. The initial section of a population review mostly runs itself, anyway."
"Yes, I know," Thrr-aamr said, reaching into the dome and picking up his laser rifle. "I'll be back soon," he added, slinging it over his shoulder and starting down the path toward the gate.
"No rush," Thrr-tulkoj said. "Might as well enjoy the air and make a really good check of the fence. As you said, it's going to be a quiet latearc."
"Sure thing," Thrr-aamr said.
Thrr-tulkoj stepped back into his dome and touched the door button. The curved wedge of material slid closed on its track and sealed; and as it did so, the dome abruptly seemed to vanish as the special ceramic turned one-way transparent. For a few beats he watched Thrr-aamr make his way toward the predator fence gate, now sealed for the latearc. Then, stretching once, he turned around and sat down on his couch, swiveled now to face the shrine. For a beat he gazed up at the brilliant white surface, growing dim as the sunlight faded out to the west. Then, dropping his attention to his desk, he activated his recorder and began reading Thrr-aamr's fullarc statement.
Across the darkened chambers came a quiet knock at the door. Frowning, the Prime looked up from his recorder. "Come in," he called.
The door opened. "Good latearc, Overclan Prime," Speaker Cvv-panav said as he stepped inside. "You're up late. I take it I'm not intruding?"