And suddenly an Elder appeared in front of the desk.

A small gasp escaped Klnn-dawan-a's mouth before she could stifle it. Thrr-mezaz didn't even flinch. "Yes?" he demanded, half turning around.

"We've found something, Commander," the Elder said, his voice pulsating with excitement. "A large underground structure, perhaps fifteen strides across at its largest, buried twenty strides below the surface."

"Have you looked inside yet?" Thrr-mezaz asked, swinging the safe door closed and straightening up again.

"We can't get in," the Elder said. "There's an inner lining of metal."

Behind Klnn-dawan-a the door opened, and she turned as Klnn-vavgi hurried into the room. "Commander, we've—ah; you've heard."

"I've heard the first part, anyway," Thrr-mezaz said, crossing over to him. "Have they found the way in?"

"There's an angled tunnel leading down into it," Klnn-vavgi said. "At the end are a camouflaged doorway and entrance chamber built into a hillside. The Elders are still searching for the opening mechanism."

"We'll burn it open if we have to," Thrr-mezaz said. "Get a sectrene of warriors together, Second. We're going in for a look."

"I obey, Commander," Klnn-vavgi said, heading back into the command/monitor room. "Communicator?"

"Shouldn't you send some technics too?" Klnn-dawan-a asked Thrr-mezaz.

"I wish I could," the other said, flicking his tongue. "Unfortunately, every technic on Dorcas—and most of the ones from the encirclement ships, too—are up to their tonguetips looking through the spacecraft the Mrachanis came in. The Overclan Seating's contact mission is due to hit the Mrachani homeworld in about a fullarc, and Warrior Command wants to know as much about Mrachani technology as possible before they land."

"Wouldn't Warrior Command be willing to reassign some of them for this?"

"They might," Thrr-mezaz said, throwing a quick look around the room. "On the other side, they might also order me to stay away from that underground structure entirely. In fact, they may do that anyway—there are probably Elders who'll be reporting this discovery whether I do directly or not."

Klnn-dawan-a looked around the room, too. No Elders were visible, but that didn't prove anything. "Why wouldn't Warrior Command want you investigating the structure?"

"Call it a hunch," Thrr-mezaz said, taking a step toward the door. "If you'll excuse me, I'd better get those warriors moving."

Klnn-dawan-a made a quick decision. "Let me go with them."

Thrr-mezaz flicked his tongue in a negative. "Not a good idea," he said. "It could be dangerous."

"So could having warriors blundering around not knowing what they're doing," she countered. "I know a fair amount about alien artifacts."

He gazed hard at her, indecision flicking across his face. "Thrr-gilag will raise me to Eldership personally if anything happens to you."

"He has no say in it," Klnn-dawan-a said, tasting bitterness beneath her tongue. "Our bond-engagement has been annulled, remember?"

"Yes, but—"

"And the only way we're going to get together again," she went on quietly, "is if we make such a contribution to the war effort that the clan leaders have no choice but to reconsider. Could this underground structure be such a contribution?"

Thrr-mezaz's tongue flicked. "Yes. It could indeed."

"Then I'm going," she said, standing up. "Do I have time to change into field clothing first?"

"I think so, yes." Thrr-mezaz's tongue flicked again. "Klnn-dawan-a—"

"I'll be fine, Thrr-mezaz," Klnn-dawan-a assured him, touching his cheek gently with her tongue. "Really. Just let me get my bags from the shuttle, and then you can show me where I can change."

It was odd, Melinda Cavanagh had thought more than once during the past twenty days, how the twin tensions of warfare and forced confinement worked so effectively together to bring out both the very best and the very worst in people.

She'd seen a pair of Peacekeeper soldiers stoically endure enemy laser burns that should have had them screaming in agony, insisting that she give her attention first to fellow soldiers whose injuries were worse than theirs; yet barely two days later she'd had to rebandage some of those same burns after a casual insult had precipitated a brief but vicious fight in one of the hillside bivouacs. She'd watched civilians uncomplainingly take their turns standing watch at the perimeter sentry posts in the icy mountain air, knowing full well that those posts would be the first to go when the inevitable Zhirrzh attack came; yet those same men so calmly facing death could launch into five minutes of swearing at the news they'd been tapped for latrine-digging duty. Melinda had experienced the same paradoxical tugs on her own psyche, working straight through the night to treat burns and abrasions and frostbite, yet nearly going ballistic one evening when her meal ration was one meat strip short.

All of which had made Lieutenant Colonel Castor Holloway's conduct over those same twenty days stand that much further above the crowd. In her multiple roles as physician, microbiology researcher, and occasional idea sounding board, Melinda had spent a fair amount of time with Holloway or in close proximity to him, and she had been thoroughly impressed by his consistent professionalism and self-control. She'd seen him grim, tired, amused, thoughtful, even frustrated; but never angry, brusque, or insulting to the troops or civilians under his command.

Apparently, it took a lot to make Colonel Holloway really angry. Just as apparently, Melinda had managed to find the winning combination.

"I don't believe what I'm hearing," Holloway snarled, his cheeks tinged with red as he glared at her. "You, of all people, Cavanagh. Of all people."

"I'm sorry, Colonel," Melinda said, trying to keep her voice steady and quiet. Especially quiet. There was precious little privacy there in the huge, cavernlike area that served as Peacekeeper HQ, and it was embarrassing getting chewed out in public. "But I don't think it's that serious a problem."

"Oh, you don't, do you?" he asked icily. "Communication with the enemy isn't that serious a problem? Unauthorized, unsupervised, uncensored communication with the enemy isn't that serious a problem?"

"It's not communication with the enemy," Melinda insisted, feeling some anger of her own starting to simmer. "It's one civilian talking to one prisoner. Prr't-zevisti can't get to any of his people—that metal room has him completely trapped."

"We only have his word for that," Holloway shot back, jabbing his stylus toward her for emphasis. "For all we know, the whole Zhirrzh task force out there could have been listening in."

"Which is one reason I thought I should be the one to talk to him first," Melinda said. "I don't have any military knowledge they could use against us."

"That's not the point," Holloway insisted. "The point is that you had no business pulling something like this without consulting with me first."

"And what would you have said if I had?" Melinda countered. "That no one was to talk to him until you'd taken a close look at who and what this incorporeal creature was who'd taken up residence in your camp? Fine. Who exactly would you have picked to do that study?"

"That's irrelevant," Holloway growled. "And damn conceited, besides."

"I'm sorry," Melinda said stiffly. "Being irrelevant and damn conceited runs in my family."

There was an almost-chuckle from the side, instantly strangled off. "You have something to add, Major?" Holloway demanded, glaring at his second in command.

"No, sir," Major Fujita Takara said, his face straightening instantly back to serious. "I was just agreeing with Dr. Cavanagh that those qualities do indeed run in her family."