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 . . .