"I'll be damned," Bronski breathed. "It's a Corvine. It's a damned Copperhead Corvine."

The attackers' own reaction was immediate and frantic, the confident multipronged attack floundering as the aircraft suddenly recognized what they faced and scurried like mad to get out of the way. But the wolves had met the tiger; and for the wolves it was far too late. The Corvine sliced straight through the center of their formation, its cannon sputtering in all directions with deadly accuracy. Five of the aircraft flashed to vapor in midair, lighting up the sky like a Founding Day fireworks display. Four others survived long enough to hit the ground, turning there into instant bonfires. The rest scattered, clawing for the relative safety of distance.

Bronski keyed the radio again. "Corvine, this is Bronski. There's a hangar door in the fortress about five klicks south of my position. There's a trapped spacecraft inside. Free it."

"Corvine acknowledging," a familiar voice responded. "Is Lord Cavanagh there with you?"

"I'm here, Aric," Cavanagh said, leaning forward toward the mike. Why Aric would be there with Bronski's men... but they could sort that out later. "Hurry with that hangar door. The Mrachanis are planning to bring the mountain down on it."

The Corvine was already driving south. "Hang on," Bronski said, lifting into the air and following. "Thrr't-rokik?"

"They have stopped work," Thrr't-rokik said. "I fear it will be happening soon."

"Let's hope your captain's smart enough to run when the door opens," Bronski said, touching the radio control again. "Seconds count here, gentlemen."

There was no reply; but suddenly the Corvine swooped in close to the cliff wall and rolled ninety degrees to its right. The cannon stuttered again, the shells stitching parallel lines of miniature explosions across the width of the hangar doors. The fighter pulled back and around in a tight curve, swinging around to drive directly at the doors. At the last second it pulled sharply up, the twin flashes of missile launchings sparking toward the doors.

And with a roar and double flash of roiling fire the doors shattered and collapsed.

And through the smoke and still-flaming gas the Zhirrzh ship appeared, its glittering new metal sheathing torn in a hundred places by shrapnel and flying rock. It battered its way out through the opening, its hull scraping repeatedly against the crumbling remains of the door. There was a half-strangled gasp from Aric as the Corvine came around in another tight loop—

"Hold your fire," Bronski barked. "We've got a truce with the Zhirrzh."

"No—let them fire," Cavanagh suggested. "They can't hurt the hull, but it'll help clear off that metal sheathing."

"Good idea," Bronski agreed. "You copy, Corvine?"

"We copy," Quinn's cautious voice came. "Lord Cavanagh?"

"It's all right," Cavanagh assured him. "Your responsibility is to the family, and to obey all family orders."

"Acknowledged," Quinn said.

"We ought to get out of here," Kolchin said. "The Mrachanis may have heavier weaponry in the area."

"Yes," Cavanagh said, looking around and finally spotting Thrr't-rokik. "Thrr't-rokik, what about your fsss cutting?"

"Leave it there," the other said. "It would be dangerous to try to retrieve it now. And the Overclan Prime may wish me to continue observing."

"All right," Cavanagh said. "Can you get to Nzz-oonaz and his group yet?"

Thrr't-rokik flicked away, returned a few seconds later. "He is informed of new truths," he assured them. "He will not attack you. The Overclan Prime wishes to know if Lord-stewart Cavanagh and Bronski will accompany the Closed Mouth to a Human world to discuss peace."

"Sounds like a plan," Bronski said. "Edo's our best bet, I think. Daschka can send a skitter on ahead to warn them we're coming."

Cavanagh braced himself. "What about my daughter and other son?" he asked. "Is there word yet?"

"They are unharmed," Thrr't-rokik said. "The Human commander is soon arriving to discuss matters with Thrr-mezaz."

Cavanagh closed his eyes, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "It's over," he murmured, a wave of fatigue and released tension rolling over him. "We've done it."

"It's not over yet," Bronski said grimly. "There's still that rogue attack force heading for Earth. My guess is we haven't got more than a few hours to stop them."

"Why can't the Elders just take them a message?" Kolchin asked. "Warrior Command's in charge, isn't it?"

"But Warrior Command still does not know about this," Thrr't-rokik said. "And if it is a Dhaa'rr fleet as the Overclan Prime thinks, only Speaker Cvv-panav will be able to stop the attack."

"Then call him," Bronski said.

"That is problem," Thrr't-rokik told him. "Speaker Cvv-panav now on Dhaa'rr world of Dharanv. Not accepting any communications."

Bronski swore gently. "Waiting at home for word of his grand victory, I imagine. This is going to be trouble."

Cavanagh opened his eyes again. The Zhirrzh ship was settling to the ground nearby, Quinn and Bronski's men flying high cover for it. "Actually, I don't think so," he told the brigadier. "I think I know how to get through to him. Let's go aboard and discuss it with the Overclan Prime, shall we?"

Melinda keyed off the laser comm and stepped out of the hatchway. Prr't-zevisti was waiting there for her, his face looking strange. "It's all over, Prr't-zevisti," she assured him. "We've done it."

"Yes," he said. "And I thank you deeply, Melinda Cavanagh. But I am confused. I have now been to see your brother. Mnov-korthe is still there with him, under guard of Second Commander Klnn-vavgi. Yet we heard him call from the landing area and order you to be allowed inside the aircraft."

"Yes, we did." Melinda frowned, peering out into the darkness. Holloway's incoming aircar was visible now, circling around to get into landing position. Its lights flicked on, illuminating the area where the voice had come from—

And Melinda's frown smoothed into a wry smile. Of course; she should have guessed. "Hello?" she called. "Max?"

"Hello, Dr. Cavanagh," Max's smooth voice came from the meter-long silver cylinder lying ignominiously in the dust of the landing field. "The Zhirrzh assigned to transport me seem to have run off to other duties."

"And so you listened in," she said. "And decided to lend a hand."

"You appeared to require assistance," the computer said. "I hope I have not acted improperly."

30

Five hunbeats ago he had indeed been awakened. And was no longer smiling. "How in the eighteen worlds could this have happened?" he thundered to the Elder hovering nervously before him. "You had everything you needed."

" 'It wasn't enough,' " Mnov-korthe's tart reply came a few beats later. " 'We found the illegal cutting, all right, but Prr't-zevisti was alive. And somehow in contact with the Overclan Prime.' "

Cvv-panav slashed viciously at the air. And that part was his own fault. But how could he have known—? "Never mind," he growled. "The Prime may have won a battle, but the war is still ours. He wants peace? Fine; we'll give him peace. The peace that comes with final victory."

The Elder nodded and vanished. Yes, they would have peace, all right, Cvv-panav told himself as he keyed his reader for current status of the warships being towed toward the heart of Human-Conqueror territory by their Mrach allies. A little over a tentharc away from Earth now, still off the Human-Conqueror detectors. And when they did appear, looking merely like a fleet of harmless Mrach spacecraft—

The Elder reappeared. " 'There is news of that, as well, Speaker Cvv-panav,' " he quoted Mnov-korthe. " 'As Mnov-dornt and I were being taken to confinement, I overheard one of the Human-Conquerors tell Commander Thrr-mezaz that the spacecraft that had escaped Dorcas had taken with it the final piece of the CIRCE weapon.' "