“You have been here but a short time,” the Preceptor said. His body was almost frighteningly without affect, now not even composed for formal neutrality. Aille found it rather disconcerting—which, he suspected, was the point. “Do you really think you know these creatures better than your elders, such as Oppuk krinnu ava Narvo, who has dealt with them since the initial conquest? And even if they are all that you say, are they worth forsaking your kochan and its ties forever?”
It was a formal question, a sant jin. Aille closed his eyes and considered, as his pool-parents had long ago taught him. A formally phrased question required a well thought-out answer. Could he truly know the natives of this small green-and-blue world better than the elders who conquered it and held it for so long?
He thought of Caitlin, clever and Jao-like in her graceful postures and speech; Tully, who, despite his defiance, had demonstrated the unfailing courage and sense of duty of a Jao, over and over again; Kralik, who never faltered when the opportunity came to be of use; and Aguilera, who held to the truth even when he knew he would be punished. Were they not each one as worthy as Jao?
“Yes,” he said at last, opening his eyes, knowing by the sense of peace running through him that his own must be as serenely black at this moment as the Preceptors. “I have lived with them in my quarters, watched as they strung startling new ideas together one after the other like jewels on a chain, fought at their side, and watched them die. They are unique and often difficult, but the same could be said of any promising crecheling.”
The Preceptor regarded him without any visible reaction. Did he believe Aille, or did he just consider him enormously mistaken? His interrogator’s whiskers twitched and then were still. “Oppuk krinnu ava Narvo is elsewhere,” he said. “I shall have him brought here, at which time we will resume.”
He turned and walked away, the other eight Harriers falling in behind him.
Aguilera watched, his big hands knotted behind him. “How long will it take for the Governor to arrive?” he said. “This mess has barely even started and already it’s driving me crazy.”
Aille knew in his bones exactly how long it would take Oppuk to be conveyed to the wind and sand and heat of this shore. He felt it, inside, like the length of a cord precisely measured, knowing as well how long he had to work before he must come back and meet his obligations. What he did not know, and most likely never would, was how to explain it to his human staff.
“He will be here when it is time,” he said at last, as a small white avian skimmed overhead.
Then he turned to Kralik. “Summon Caitlin from St. Louis. She must be present.”
The jinau officer stared at him. Normally impeccable in his conduct, Kralik suddenly spoke bluntly: “Why?”
Kralik and Stockwell were now bonded in preparation for marriage, Aille knew, which explained his unusual behavior. So, he explained, rather than simply commanding.
“Nothing changes now, General, on one level. This is still, whatever else, a matter between Pluthrak and Narvo. I have succeeded so far with advance-by-oscillation and I intend to continue. Nothing enrages Oppuk so much as Caitlin, because she stands as the clearest proof that his claims are false. That unsane fury, I think, will finally bring him down.”
Kralik nodded, slowly, understanding the logic. Still, he was reluctant.
“It might be dangerous for her,” he pointed out.
This called for a human gesture. Aille shook his head, firmly.
“No, General Kralik. It will be dangerous for her.”
Chapter 41
Caitlin, Tamt and Dr. Kinsey arrived at the Pascagoula base late that afternoon. She had been working with her father in St. Louis for the past week, but then Kralik had sent for her. He said little, as was his way, but his silences communicated almost as much as words. He had not sent for her from a personal desire to see her again, as much as he might feel that also. Ed was worried, clearly enough, and Caitlin thought he had good reason.