His command of Jao, good to begin with, was improving every day. And leaving aside language, he was coming to understand much better—sort of—the way that the Jao thought. Jao were constantly jockeying for influence, and it was now obvious to him that relations between Aille and the Governor were coming to a breaking point. The rebels in the Resistance could find a way to use that to their advantage, if they understood how to play one Jao off against another. And he could be the one to crack the social code. The rebels might just have a chance to drive the Jao from this world yet. Or, at least—
He sighed. Finally, he’d actually let himself think the words. Or, at least . . .
What?
He didn’t know. But he was no longer as certain as he had been that humanity faced only two options: get rid of the Jao or die trying. He pulled the locator out of his pocket and stared down at it. In the darkness, he could barely see the device, even held in his hand.
Everything was dark, nothing more so than the “third way” he was groping for. But he decided he could live with that, at least for a while.
* * *
He found the Subcommandant along with Yaut and Kralik just outside the Governor’s command center, which Oppuk had set up on the military base. It was one of those poured edifices the Jao could erect with incredible speed. The structures seemed odd to humans, on the inside even more than the outside, but they had the advantage of being quick and easy to produce without expending much time and labor.
Tully was sure about one thing, though: Oppuk would have commandeered enough labor to make sure that, within the hant, there would be another one of those damned pools. You’d think that right here next to a battle, the Governor could do without it for once. But Oppuk, Tully was coming to realize, had all the Jao vices and precious few of the conquerors’ virtues.
Yes, they did have virtues. That much, if nothing else, he’d learned from Aille and Yaut.
Kralik looked a bit done in, sitting on a log, forehead resting on bent knees with an ominous rip in his uniform. There were some small bloodstains on the ripped material, too. Apparently, the general had gotten wounded after Tully left, although it didn’t look serious.
The Subcommandant and Yaut seemed unruffled, however. The awkward Jao bodyguard, Tamt, was haunting the edges of the little group with an air of being very much put upon, and they’d apparently acquired yet another new member for Aille’s personal service, a Jao built like a fireplug. None of them were beauty queens in Tully’s estimation, but this fellow was ugly enough to strike fear in the heart of a rabid bear.
Jesus, he’d only been gone a few hours. How many members did a Jao bigshot have in his personal service anyway—fifty? Two hundred?
* * *
Inside the innermost recesses of the hant, Oppuk’s ears swiveled. The sounds of the battle had faded away, he suddenly realized. Could the young Pluthrak possibly have prevailed so quickly? For all of the Governor’s public derision of humans, he knew full well how savagely and effectively the creatures normally fought on their own chosen terrain. He had expected it would take at least three solar cycles for the inexperienced Pluthrak to crush the insurgents, probably longer—and then, not without suffering severe casualties.
Now uneasy, he emerged from the pool where he had been floating. Water sluiced from his body. Parm, one of his new service, stepped forward with an ornate harness and pair of loose trousers. Arms extended, he let her dress him, moving automatically to step into the garment, his mind on other, more important matters.
A bowlful of woody tak had been set to smolder at his feet. But it had not been tended properly and now smelled burnt, rather than aromatic. He whirled and kicked it across the floor. Parm gazed down at the glowing embers silently, a hint of resentment blurring the shape of abashed-regret more appropriate to her failure in duty.