She left the echoing reception room with its vast pool, Tamt at her side, then dropped by the Subcommandant’s quarters to check on Dr. Kinsey. He was sitting in a chair, staring down at his hands. Someone had found him clean clothes in the abandoned servants’ quarters, though they were too big. Both the twill pants legs and cotton sleeves had been rolled up. The man’s eyes, though bloodshot, didn’t seem as exhausted as they had earlier.
“Why don’t you come with me?” she said, taking his arm. “I’m going to the communications center to contact my father.”
“Certainly,” he said, rising. “I’m tired, but I’m sick of just sitting around with nothing to do except wonder what it feels like to be a piece of frying bacon. How are you feeling?”
She grinned wryly. “I feel great, believe it or not. Exhausted, sure, but . . . Like I’m really alive, for the first time in my life. I’m a trusted member of the Subcommandant’s personal service instead of a combination flunkey and hostage—and now I’m working to avert the greatest danger this world has ever faced. Best of all, I don’t have Banle breathing down my neck anymore. Instead I’ve got a Jao bodyguard”—she glanced at Tamt, and bestowed on her a smile that was not wry at all—”who’s a friend of mine as well as a real bodyguard, and no one’s treating me like some stupid china doll to be stuck on a shelf in the corner so she won’t break. For once in my life, I’m actually getting to do something important!”
She tugged him toward the door. “And you are too, so get moving. Except for me—and then, only in some ways—you know more about the Jao than anybody. My father will want your advice.”
They found several Jao in the palace’s communications center, apparently assigned to this duty out of the retinue brought from Pascagoula by Terniary-Adjunct Chul. The two technicians, both female, gazed at Caitlin as though a pet monkey had escaped its cage and demanded to use the telephone. But they established a connection to her father in St. Louis without comment.
She settled in a chair as Ben Stockwell’s image formed on the Jao hologrid. Her father was still a vital man, though in his early sixties, silver-haired and tan, and right now looking as worried as she’d ever seen him. His hands twitched when he saw her, and he leaned toward the sensor relay, as though he could reach through it. “Caitlin! It’s been days since we’ve heard from you, and . . . everything’s in chaos. Most of the Jao packed up and left, leaving no orders.” He looked closer. “What happened to your arm and face? My God, are you all right?”
A lump closed her throat and she hugged her broken arm against her chest. “I’m fine, Dad.” Her eyes drank him in and she realized with a rush how much she missed her parents. She’d been too busy to even think about such things in the past few days. “But, like you said, there’s a lot of problems on this end. This isn’t a personal call. I’m to pass on an official message. How much do you know about the current crisis?”
His mouth thinned. “Damn little. Supposedly we’re in danger of an imminent attack by these mysterious Ekhat. Governor Oppuk has ordered all Jao troops either off the planet or into reinforced bunkers. No humans have been offered similar protection, as far as I can find out. If this is a ruse, it’s a damned thorough one!”
“It’s all true,” she said and resisted the urge to lean closer herself. “I—” She broke off, the horror of those two Ekhat savaging one another rising up strong in her memory, then rubbed her eyes. “I’ve been on one of the Ekhat ships with the Subcommandant. I’ve—seen them—seen things that make clear to me that the Jao are telling the truth, and they have been all along. The Ekhat are truly beyond understanding. In fact, I see now why the Jao were never able to explain adequately about them. I hardly know where to begin myself. The one thing I can say for sure is that the Ekhat are very frightening.”