"I'm sure you will," the Prime said. "Good fullarc to you, Searcher Thrr-gilag."

It was a dismissal. Thrr-gilag nodded to both of them and turned to go—

"One other thing," the Prime said from behind him. "Thrr-pifix-a is currently in the detention center at Unity City. As she'll be there for several more fullarcs, you might wish to go to her home and select a few personal items for her use there. The server at the main Overclan desk has the key to her house, as well as a list of the sorts of things she can be allowed to have."

"I appreciate the courtesy, Overclan Prime," Thrr-gilag said. "I'll have to see if I can find a way to get out there."

"Speak with the server when you pick up the key," the Prime offered. "If there are any Overclan flights heading that direction within the next couple of tentharcs, I'll see to it you're authorized to ride along."

"Thank you," Thrr-gilag said. After that last shot, a token coating of salve. Just to show there hadn't been anything personal or vindictive about this. Appearances were everything. "Again, I appreciate your courtesy."

"You'd best go, then," the Prime said.

Another dismissal. This time, clearly, he meant it. Nodding once again to the two Zhirrzh, Thrr-gilag turned and left the room.

For a few hunbeats he wandered randomly down the corridors, not really seeing or hearing the Zhirrzh he passed, his mind and emotions too frozen to think or feel anything at all. But the numbness couldn't last for long. Certainly not long enough. Slowly, inexorably, like a deep wound from which the anesthetic was receding, the bitterness and pain began to flow back in.

So it had happened. All the fears he'd taken into the room had now been realized. He'd feared the worst; and the worst had happened. In that single stroke the Dhaa'rr and the Overclan Prime had taken everything he truly valued away from him. His career, his honor, and especially Klnn-dawan-a. Everything.

Halfway down the corridor, a group of Zhirrzh looked around as an Elder appeared beside them. There was a brief, inaudible conversation, and the Elder vanished.

And Thrr-gilag realized he'd been wrong. He'd feared the worst, all right. But the worst had not, in fact, happened. In all their zeal the Overclan Prime and Speaker Cvv-panav had missed something.

Prr't-zevisti.

Thrr-gilag took a deep breath, a sudden surge of resolve slicing through the despair. No, it wasn't hopeless yet. Not yet. If Klnn-dawan-a could get that tissue sampler to Thrr-mezaz, they might still have a chance of bringing Prr't-zevisti back from the almost certain death the Dhaa'rr were trying to force on him. And if they did, maybe they could use it as a lever right back at Speaker Cvv-panav again.

The odds were vanishingly small. Thrr-gilag knew that. But it didn't matter. He had fresh hope, and new purpose, and that was what he needed most right now.

Straightening up, Thrr-gilag got his bearings and headed at a brisk walk down the corridor toward the main Overclan desk. He would take the Prime up on his offer and go get some things to take to his mother. And when he saw her, he would be cheerful and comforting and helpful.

Because the Prime and Cvv-panav hadn't taken his family away from him, either. And maybe, ultimately, that was what really mattered.

"Well," Cvv-panav said, resettling himself on his couch. "All things considered, I'd say that went quite well."

"I'm pleased you were satisfied," the Prime said, trying to ignore the twinges of guilt prodding at him. It had all been necessary, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Decisions of state, he was rapidly coming to realize, were much easier when one didn't have to face those who were affected. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some film to review before the Overclan Seating session this postmidarc."

"Come now, Overclan Prime," Cvv-panav chided, making no move to stand up. "Surely you haven't forgotten our agreement. You were going to tell me about the CIRCE weapon, remember?"

"Of course I remember," the Prime said, tapping a key on his reader. "But first I'd like to view this film. Perhaps you'd be so kind as to watch it with me." The wall behind him lit up, and the Prime turned to look.

And from the direction of Cvv-panav's couch he heard a stifled gasp. "You recognize the setting, I see," the Prime commented. "You'll note the excellent quality of the pictures, despite the somewhat inadequate lighting. See there, too—how clearly the faces of both Korthe and Dornt can be seen as they lay the pouch containing her fsss at Thrr-pifix-a's door? And the detail on the pouch itself, of course. An ideal record for, shall we say, identification purposes?"

"I'm sure we could say that, yes," Cvv-panav ground out. "Who took this film? Thrr-pifix-a?" He cursed under his breath. "So I was right, after all. She was one of your agents, and the whole thing was nothing more than a gigantic setup. Designed to destroy me."

The Prime flicked his tongue in weary negative. "You flatter yourself, Speaker, and in the same breath underestimate the strength of my position along with it. Neither you nor the Dhaa'rr are the threat to my authority you seem to believe."

"And yet you seek to destroy me," Cvv-panav accused, jabbing his tongue toward the film.

"Not true," the Prime disagreed. "You continue to insist on seeing this in terms of the ancient battle standards. With yourself as the great and glorious leader of the Dhaa'rr, who must be destroyed or else surrendered to."

"What else is there?"

"Cooperation," the Prime said. "Working together toward a common goal. Subordinating personal or clan preferences when necessary for the good of the whole."

Cvv-panav gestured contemptuously. "You dream in impossible ideals, Overclan Prime. You see five hundred cyclics of nonwar, and you think the Zhirrzh have changed. But we haven't. Conflict, competition, rivalry—it's all still there. Life in the eighteen worlds is still a contest to see who will dominate and who will submit. No different, really, from this war against the Human-Conquerors."

"You're wrong," the Prime said quietly. "Peaceful clan rivalry is nothing at all like the devastation of open warfare. And this war with the Human-Conquerors is not a contest of supremacy, at least not on our side. It's a battle for our survival."

Cvv-panav sniffed. "Strong words—"

"You wanted to hear about CIRCE," the Prime cut him off harshly. "Fine. Let me tell you about CIRCE."

He gave Cvv-panav all of it. Everything the Human-Conqueror prisoner Pheylan-Cavanagh had said; everything the technics had been able to draw from the alien recorder; everything Warrior Command had deduced or pieced together or speculated on.

It took ten hunbeats... and at the end Cvv-panav was as shaken as the Prime had ever seen him. "It's incredible," the Speaker breathed, his tail twitching uncontrollably. "Utterly incredible. How could such a thing exist?"

"I don't know," the Prime said. "If we knew, perhaps we'd be able to find a way to protect ourselves against it. But we don't. And we can't."

"That's why Warrior Command is driving so many different offensives," Cvv-panav murmured, gazing unseeingly into the air. "Trying to take as many Human-Conqueror worlds as possible to try to isolate the CIRCE components."

"Yes," the Prime nodded. "The price being that we've spread our forces dangerously thin. Ripe for a Human-Conqueror counteroffensive. But we have no other choice."

Abruptly, Cvv-panav's attention came back to him. "What if it's too late? Are you sure it's not already too late?"

"We're not sure at all," the Prime said grimly. "For all we know, they could be assembling CIRCE right now."

"And what happens if they do?"

The Prime looked him straight in the eye. "Then the Zhirrzh race will most probably die."