Aille determined to have some Jao units added to his jinau forces to serve in cases where such duty was required. That would have the added advantage of increasing association between Jao and humans in a harmonious manner.
Oppuk would be hostile to the idea, of course, but this was a purely military matter. No doubt, Dano would be hostile also. But at this point, Aille was quite sure, Commandant Kaul would not try to oppose him directly over such an issue. After Oppuk's violation of custom, Dano would be retreating into neutrality.
The shuttle's engines roared to life and the vessel quivered with power. Aille noticed that Tamt seemed more than a bit uneasy, giving him frequent glances. And, once he studied her more carefully, saw that she bore the subtle signs of having been involved recently in a fracas of some sort.
He twitched his whiskers, inviting an explanation.
"Someone who said she was Banle krinnu nao Narvo appeared at the medicians' compound. She said the Stockwell human was attached to the Governor's household. She tried to take her away."
Perception-of-difficulty swept over Aille and he shifted in his seat to accommodate its shape. His ears flattened. "Indeed? How did you prevail?"
Tamt was very nervous, now, her seated form shifting awkwardly from one half-assumed posture to another. "I—ah. Ah. It proved necessary to subdue her physically. Which I did."
Kralik grinned fiercely as he buckled Caitlin's slender form into the safety harness, then settled in the row facing them and reached for his own harness. The sound of the engines deepened as the shuttle lifted from the ground.
Looking still more uneasy, Tamt now glanced at Yaut. The fraghta's expression was ferocious. "Did I do the right thing?"
"Most certainly!" exploded Yaut. "How could you do otherwise? Does Narvo's arrogance have no limits?"
Seeing the sudden relief flooding Tamt's posture, Yaut controlled his anger. He had just realized, Aille thought, what a great risk Tamt had taken—or thought she had, at least. For one of her lowly status to physically attack a Narvo, even one of nao status, had taken courage and devotion.
"You did well, Tamt," the fraghta said gruffly. "Very well indeed! You are credit to yourself and to Pluthrak. Ha! Would that I had been there to see it!"
Had Yaut been there, of course, the fracas would never have occurred. Leaving aside his status, no Jao not crazed with reckless fury would be so brash as to seek physical confrontation with such as Yaut. The fraghta of the great kochan were not chosen for their sagacity alone.
Aille decided to elaborate, for the sake of quieting Tamt's nerves. Poorly trained as she had been before Yaut took her into service, the female obviously did not understand all that was at stake. That was not surprising. Low-status minor kochan such as the one that had produced her participated diffidently, if at all, in the rivalries among the great root clans. She would not understand the subtleties and permutations.
"The fact that Caitlin Stockwell had once been attached to the Narvo's household was irrelevant," he said, "a flow that was completed. His assault upon her indicated dissatisfaction with her performance. To administer physical punishment upon a member of one's household in public is an extreme measure, and is equivalent to formal dismissal. It has always been thus, among the great kochan. Therefore she was free of obligation and I added her to my service. In doing so, I was quite within custom. She was thus a member of my personal service and under Pluthrak's aegis when the Banle creature made that most improper demand on behalf of Narvo. Your actions against her were quite correct, Tamt—dishonorable to do otherwise—and Pluthrak will see that no harm comes to you because of it."
The taut lines of Tamt's body eased and she sat back in her seat, finally relaxed.
Aille now studied Kralik, since the human was preoccupied with gazing intently at Stockwell. The human was doing his best to conceal it, but not even the alienness of his posture could disguise the truth. The jinau officer was very tense. Anger, most of it—clearly Aille was correct in gauging that the general had formed a personal attachment to the Stockwell female. But there was more than simple anger. There was also . . . something very close to exhilaration.
That was inevitable, Aille thought grimly. Dangerous also, but the danger was another product of Narvo's misconduct. Firmness with subject species was a necessity, true enough. All Jao knew that, certainly the scions of great kochan. But Oppuk's rule on Terra had gone far beyond anything that could be called "firmness." Aille could only imagine how much hatred and resentment the Narvo had stirred up in twenty solar cycles—even among such as these, the scion of a prestigious human clan and one of its top jinau officers.
Madness!
On the other hand . . . madness that could be turned to good effect, if association was done properly. Properly, and delicately. The links between Narvo and humans must be exchanged for links with Pluthrak—but without undermining the necessities of Jao rule. Raw exhilaration at the abasement of Narvo was inevitable, yes—even a potentially valuable weapon—but it could easily become a blade that cut indiscriminately.
He and Yaut exchanged meaningful glances. How good it was—how splendid—to be finally working in tandem with his fraghta. It was as if they were two hands guided by the same mind.
Yaut cleared his throat. "Given the Narvo's unstable temper, I think it would be wise if we appointed Tamt as Stockwell's bodyguard. At least for the moment."
"I agree," said Aille immediately. "I have no further need for one, in any event. After the latest Narvo outrage, Oppuk will be careful to avoid even a hint of Narvo threat. Direct threat, for a certainty."
The same was now just as true for Stockwell, of course, but Aille was sure the humans would not understand that. And one look at the expressions on the faces of Stockwell and Kralik made clear that the meaningless gesture was much appreciated.
By Tamt also, it seemed, oddly enough. Most Jao would have been at least quietly offended to be appointed the bodyguard to a native. But the expression on Tamt's face—her posture even more so—indicated nothing but satisfaction.
Aille saw Stockwell's tiny hand move to cover Tamt's thick wrist, for a moment, and give it a little squeeze. Tamt, instead of drawing away, simply covered the little human hand with her large Jao one, gently squeezing in return.
It was a bit unsettling to watch. Aille himself—Yaut even more so—would have found that physical intimacy annoying, even repellent. But association proceeded down complex channels, even among Jao. Tamt, it had long been obvious, suffered from an emotional state which was uncommon among Jao.
Humans had a name for it, though. She had been "lonely."
Yaut spoke again. "That does leave the possibility of an attack upon you by humans."
Aille did not bother to glance at Kralik. He was sure of the response before it even came.
"The Pacific Division would be honored to provide the Subcommandant with whatever he requires in the way of a bodyguard," the general said, almost snapping the words. "Up to and including my best battalion, if he needs it, assigned permanently to the duty."
Aille drew up the figures from memory. "A battalion would be excessive, General Kralik. I should think a company would be quite sufficient. Perhaps the same company that came with us on the whale hunt?"
"Yes, sir." He pulled out his communicator. "They're on this same shuttle, I think. I'll give Captain Walters the order immediately."
As Kralik spoke quietly into the comm, Caitlin opened her blue-gray eyes and regarded Aille with puzzled-gratitude. "What will I be required to do, as part of your service?"
"Provide advice on human behavior and psychology," Aille said, "as well as interpreting where needed. You speak fluent Jao with almost no accent and move better than any human I have yet met. Your assistance will be quite valuable. Perhaps you can even train the rest of my human staff to move properly."
"I'll do my best."
There was more she could do, Aille thought, as he examined the landscape passing below. Insanity was rare among the Jao.
But Aille was now convinced that the Governor was indeed insane. Or, least, not sane.
And it was for the reason that Yaut thought, he reflected, though it was more subtle than Yaut realized. It was not because Oppuk had "gone native," in the sense that the veteran Wrot had done. That was healthy, even if Wrot had done it in a typically coarse and uncultured Wathnak manner. It was because Oppuk had done the opposite. He had "gone native" not to associate, but to dissociate. He had adopted only those human attributes that were discordant and disruptive, ignoring all else. No, more—repelling all else.
Some deep, compulsive, festering anger and resentment was at work here, which Aille did not understand. But, for whatever reason, the Governor had twisted the necessary association between victor and vanquished into something grotesque. Something . . .
Yes, Yaut was right. Something human.
He turned to Caitlin. "There are some terms I have encountered, studying your history. They puzzled me, and I would ask you to explain them."
"Yes?"
"The first term is: 'tyrant.' The other is 'despot.' "
* * *
Tully watched Aille and the Stockwell girl from a seat further down. For some reason, the Subcommandant seemed especially interested in the President's daughter, though he wasn't sure why.
As far as he knew, Jao did not perceive any degree of sexual attractiveness in humans. Whatever other outrages they had committed upon the human population, there had been no instances of rape. Or, indeed, of any kind of sexual interaction. The reason was not simply physical. Jao sexual organs were similar enough to human for intercourse to be possible.
But by all accounts, they mated only with their own kind—and infrequently at that. It wasn't simply that Jao didn't consort sexually with humans. They didn't seem to consort sexually with each other, either, even though their sexes did everything together including toiletry and bathing. There were no Jao young on this planet. In fact, no human had ever reported even seeing one. Jao kept their families, or whatever passed for families among them, strictly off-world. As a result, humans knew less about the personal lives of their conquerors than they knew about the mating habits of jellyfish.
The hard rectangle of the locator's controls bit into his hip through his back pocket, still in his possession though Yaut had clearly not forgotten about it. He only needed one look at the fraghta's enigmatic black eyes to know that. He was still testing Tully, and the price of failing would most likely be death.
Tully had faced death many times since his childhood and the Jao invasion. But he sensed another, higher price lurking behind that more obvious consequence—loss of honor. If he took the opportunity to run, he might make it, but he would lose what the Jao called vithrik.
There was no reason he should care what Yaut or any other Jao thought of him, no reason why he should do anything but devote his energies to escape, which was after all the primary duty of all prisoners. He had learned that along with the alphabet and counting numbers back in the rebel camps, had eaten it for breakfast in the frosty gray dawns, then mouthed it as a prayer at night.
Yaut had beaten him, exhibited not the least sense of patience or good will, required things of him that he could not even begin to understand, yet refused to explain, calling it only "wrem-fa," body-learning. He did not owe him or the Subcommandant a damned thing, and yet—
He pulled the black box out and sat with the hard cool shape in his hands, staring. Finally he put it back in his pocket.
Governor Oppuk was on the rampage. That much was clear. The Pluthrak Subcommandant had . . . done something back there in Oregon. In human terms, he'd "pulled a fast one" on Oppuk. And now, Tully suspected, Aille intended to oppose the Governor still further. Things were tense and bound to get only worse. Maybe the Resistance could find a way to use this to their advantage. And, if so, no one was in a better position than Tully to observe it. Analyze it, even.
He would wait. His "third way" still seemed . . .
Acceptable. Even honorable, to human and Jao alike.
God help me, I'm starting to understand these bastards.
* * *
Caitlin leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes and trying to ignore the pain of her broken arm. She needed to think.
Partly, she needed to think about the feel of the furry Jao hand still cupped over her own. In twenty-four years of life, most of it spent in close proximity to the aliens, this was the first time she'd ever felt anything remotely close to affection for one of them.
"Affection" was the right word, too, and Caitlin was too honest to lie to herself about it. For someone like Aille, she could feel respect—even admiration. But whatever her relationship with Tamt was, or was going to be, there would be genuine warmth to it. On her part, for sure, and she thought it would be reciprocated by Tamt. In whatever way, at least, Jao could feel what humans would consider personal warmth.
If for no other reason, in Tamt's case, than simple loneliness. Tamt was not an outcast in her own society, no. But she was one of such low status that she had enjoyed little in the way of respect from her own kind, much less intimacy. Caitlin realized now that her perceptions of the Jao had been heavily skewed, all her life, by the fact that she'd only been in contact with Jao from the stratosphere of their alien society, or their close hangers-on. But how did that same society look—feel, if you would—when you were one of the members at the bottom of the pyramid?
And it was a pyramid. The Jao could delude themselves all they wanted about their egalitarian ways, and deride humans for their obsessions with the petty perks and protocols of prestige—such as having doors opened, and salutes. But, in another way, the Jao were far more status-ridden than humans ever were. In modern times, at least.
It was interesting—and worth pursuing. The glimpses Caitlin had gotten of that old fellow Wrot were just as intriguing. Another Jao, it seemed, who had . . . not turned his back on his own, no. He was obviously pleased now that he was part of Aille's service. But, clearly enough, Wrot had a very different attitude toward humans than Caitlin would have thought any Jao did, until very recently.
Perhaps her father's long-squelched hopes were not just daydreams, after all. Perhaps "association" was not simply a Jao euphemism for the relationship between a drover and his oxen.
Her own motivations, when it came to Tamt, were clear enough. A lot of it was pure and simple gratitude, combined with savage glee. Banle had oppressed Caitlin all her life, since she was four years old, had been a constant and never-ending looming shadow. A ghoul, she'd sometimes seemed, and always a troll.
To finally see that troll twisted into a pretzel, by someone stronger than she was . . .
Ha!
Caitlin smiled. That was a memory she'd treasure all her life, for a certainty. The shrieks of human doctors and nurses, scattering everywhere while two great Jao slammed each other back and forth in the clinic. Caitlin herself, despite her injuries, had been the only one who hadn't looked for shelter.
She wouldn't have missed that, for all the world! The first shock—and despair—at discovering that the hated Banle had not only survived after all but had come to take her back into the darkness. Then, to her surprise, seeing Tamt bristle and growl with indignation and fury—which Banle had returned immediately, and in kind.
That had been foolish. Tamt was not only bigger and stronger than Banle, but Yaut had been training her in the Jao methods of hand-to-hand fighting. No doubt Banle, being Narvo herself, had received equal training. But that had been long ago, before she'd spent twenty years overseeing a human girl who didn't begin to match her strength. In the here and now, in the savagely physical battle that had erupted between the two, she'd been overmatched.
Caitlin had watched avidly, without a thought for her own safety, despite being in the position of a human caught in a room when two walruses went at each other. Okay, small walruses, granted. But the Jao method of hand fighting was a lot like sumo wrestling—combined with a use of their big teeth, which woul
d have had any human referees frantically blowing whistles. By the time Tamt finally left Banle lying on the floor hammered into a pulp, they'd just about wrecked that room in the clinic.
Caitlin's own cot had been included in the wreckage. She'd had to scramble hastily aside, at the end, broken arm or no, when the battle finally brought the two Jao her way.
She hadn't minded. Tamt had put the cot to good use, pounding Banle's head against it until the cot was in splinters—twisted metal, rather—and Banle was unconscious.
She sighed happily, even with the pain. Yes, that was a memory to cherish.
But, there was more. Caitlin had been very lonely too, and she knew she'd enjoy Tamt's company, once she managed to overcome the Jao female's odd combination of shy reticence and social awkwardness.
Thoughts of loneliness, however, brought up another subject. One which Caitlin could no longer avoid thinking about.
She opened her eyes, just to slits, in order to peek.
Yup. Ed Kralik was looking at her. As usual, with that still face and those gray eyes that revealed as little as possible. But Caitlin wasn't fooled. That was not the look of a major general, that was the look of a man—and one who'd apparently decided that the fact he was almost twice her age just didn't matter.
Which, it didn't. Rather the opposite, actually, from Caitlin's point of view. Her world would chew up any man she knew her own age. Kralik, on the other hand . . .
Yeah, maybe. And isn't it nice, for the first time in my life, to allow that word into my lexicon? Such a nice word.
Maybe.
Chapter 29
Oppuk knew he should get back to his palace in Oklahoma City as fast as possible, but he was still too furious to travel. If he had boarded his personal transport and been cooped up with only a few attendants, he most likely would have slaughtered them all to satisfy his wrath and then been forced to find replacements.