In private, the Harriers made no attempt to maintain the strict posture control they exhibited before kochan members. Tura flicked an ear.
“I understand. And the greatest danger?”
He pointed at the blue-and-white image in the holo tank. “There, where the Jao have already failed once. Faced with the first real test of association in our history—I leave aside the matter of the Lleix, when we were too immature to be held responsible—we failed. Completely and disastrously.”
“Narvo,” she murmured. “The worst choice possible, to have been given oudh over that planet. Even Dano would have been better.”
The Preceptor’s whiskers flattened. “That is the easy answer, but it is inadequate. Narvo was given oudh because the Naukra so ruled. All Jao are thus, in the end, responsible for their conduct. None questioned the wisdom of the decision, after all, on its own terms. I was there, when the decision was made. The kochan maneuvers concerned only matters of petty status.”
“Even Pluthrak?”
He considered his answer. “Yes, even Pluthrak—and still even now, truth be told. Pluthrak is more subtle, yes, but even Pluthrak only sees the needs of the Jao. Which they confuse with the needs for the Jao, which is not the same thing at all.”
He adjusted the controls again, now bringing up the image of the galactic disk. “Consider its immensity, Tura. We forget, most often, that even the Ekhat have only spread across a portion of one spiral arm. What lies beyond? What dangers and challenges will we face, after the Ekhat are finally exterminated?”
Tura pondered the image, for a moment, then assumed rueful-amusement. “It is hard for me to imagine a time when we will no longer be fighting the Ekhat,” she admitted. Softly, she recited one of the first precepts learned by all newly-joined Harriers: “Ends are not means. So do not let your means determine your ends.”
“Yes. And this one too: ‘Bad mistakes are always simple ones.’ ”
He gestured toward the image of the planet. “Conquest is a means to an end, nothing more. Yet always the great danger that faces a conqueror is the simplest—that they will forget their purpose and come to see it as conquest itself.”
Again, he adjusted the controls; taking a bit longer, this time, since he was bringing up stored recordings rather than shifting images.
The face of a young Pluthrak appeared in the holo tank.
“What a marvelous vai camiti,” Tura said admiringly. “The quintessence of Pluthrak.”
The Preceptor grunted. “More, I think. This one may be—at long last!—the transcendence of Pluthrak. I have long found that Pluthrak subtlety can be as exasperating as Narvo force or Dano crudity. Less abrasive, true enough, but still every bit as exasperating. Even more exasperating, at times.”
A slight subtlety in Tura’s posture indicated some reservations. That did not surprise the Preceptor. Tura had come from one of Pluthrak’s many affiliated kochan. Jithra, as it happened, perhaps the closest. She was still relatively new in the Bond, and old kochan ties were hard to overcome completely.
He was not concerned. Over time, Tura would shed those last residues. Patience was one of the Preceptor’s most outstanding qualities—the main reason, in fact, that he had been the one selected by the Strategy Circle to oversee their plans for Terra.
Twenty years ago, that had been, to use the native term. A long time, even by the standards of the Strategy Circle.
And now, finally—hopefully—coming to fruition.
He studied the image in the holo tank. “Transcendence,” he repeated. “That is what we need. And, perhaps, what we have found. A namth camiti sent to do one thing, who learned to do another. I did not really hope for that. Courage, one can expect from the young. Wisdom, rarely.”
“Another thing?”
“A conqueror, Tura, who learned to do what conquerors forget. How to listen.”