Stockwell winced. “Somehow, I can’t imagine the Jao being all that patient with nonviolent protestors.”
“Protestors, no. Not if they were led by humans. But led by Pluthrak . . . That’s a different story, Mr. President. As long as we keep the peace, they’re not going to use Bull Connor tactics—or the equivalent of the massacre at Amritsar—any more than humans would have turned fire hoses on . . . on . . . Hell, I don’t know. Eleanor Roosevelt, maybe.”
This time, Caitlin couldn’t stifle the laugh. “Eleanor Roosevelt! God, don’t let Aille hear that analogy.”
Kinsey smiled. Stockwell did too, though more thinly.
“I’ve never met him,” Caitlin’s father said. “But he seems like a great man.”
Caitlin shook her head. “Man, no. Not even close. Great, yes.”
She rose. “I’ll let the two of you figure out the details. I need to get back.” She paused a moment. “I am proud to be in his service, Father. Very proud. And if the Naukra rules against him—assuming any of us are still alive—I will remain in his service, if he wants me. Kroudh or not.”
* * *
On her way back to Aille’s command center, Caitlin pondered all the implications of her last statement.
Sure, why not. What the hell, it’s not as if I’d have to stay celibate. Speaking of which, it’s time I settled that. And since my damned cloistered life has left me with all the aplomb and sophistication of a turtle when it comes to sex, I’d better just tackle it straight up. At least I’ll look like a simple fool instead of a fumbling idiot.
She decided that “flow” didn’t require her immediate return to Aille’s presence. Instead, calling up her exhaustion-fuzzy memory, she took a different corridor, looking for the chamber that had been turned into an impromptu military headquarters. She managed to find it fairly soon, even though she’d been muttering to herself the whole way and only dimly aware of the turns she was taking.
“Great, just great. I may be the only twenty-four-year-old virgin in America, outside of religious orders. I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
When she got to the chamber, she stuck her head in the entrance. Kralik was there, to her relief, discussing something with Hami.
“Ed, could I talk to you a moment?” She blurted it out immediately, only realizing then how nervous she was. Still more nervous, she fluttered her hands. “I mean, I don’t want to interrupt you—”
He studied her for a moment, with a quizzical expression, then glanced at Hami. The Jao pleniary-superior assumed a posture which Caitlin thought was relaxed-patience. She wasn’t sure. It wasn’t a posture she’d seen any Narvo adopt often. If ever.
“There is time,” Hami said. “Not much, but some.”
A moment later, Kralik had her by the shoulder and gently eased her out of the chamber.
“Okay, Caitlin. What’s up?”
* * *
She never remembered exactly what she babbled for the next few minutes. If she babbled at all. Kralik claimed afterward he had to pry it out of her, like a clam, but she thought his memory was suspect.
She’d never be able to prove it, though, because when she was finally done Kralik’s smile was both cheerful and relaxed. Very cheerful, and even more relaxed—and it was the second of the two that she cherished the most.
“I’d be delighted, Caitlin Stockwell. Deeply honored, too. Yes, I understand you might be in Pluthrak service the rest of your life. I already knew that, actually. I find that I don’t care, since this all assumes that we’re both alive a few days from now, and if we are . . .”
He shrugged. “Who cares? After all, I’m in his service too—and, as it happens, I’ve seen the movie about the forty-seven loyal ronin. It was a good movie. I liked it.”
It was a very masculine smile, too. At the moment, that didn’t mean much to her. Not under the immediate circumstances, between exhaustion and a broken arm and an impending battle. But she knew it would—a lot—if they had a future.
“Do you have a preference in engagement rings?” he asked softly. His hand came up and caressed her cheek.