The Course of Empire

by Eric Flint

  The only member of his service present, Ullwa, bowed her graceful head. "Shall you require my life, Governor?"

  He considered accepting her offer, but then decided against it. "Surely even an idiot like you realizes that would leave me with an even less adequate service and still would not improve the water!"

  Ullwa bowed her head in perception-of-truth. She had a lovely vai camiti, four dark-brown parallel stripes across the muzzle that merged on her cheeks, and she knew how to position herself so that it showed to the best advantage. He had elevated her for that reason and no other, because she was appealing to look upon.

  "The Governor is wise," she murmured respectfully, but she kept her eyes tactfully averted and unreadable.

  "Have the Subcommandant rendezvous with us, once he refuels his ship and leaves Terra. He and his ship can join us in the battle, when it is joined. It will be excellent practice for one so newly emerged."

  "Yes, Governor. I will send the order immediately." The last words came over her shoulder, as she left the room. Hurried out, more precisely, which only increased Oppuk's ire.

  He threw himself down onto a luxurious pile of dehabia, all worked with the red patterns of Narvo. His ears danced back and forth between anger and expectation.

  In point of fact, the Pluthrak's vessel was not designed for use against Ekhat warships. But Aille could hardly refuse, and was quite likely to be destroyed in the battle. That would be excellent. Oppuk's craving for the Pluthrak's death was now almost as great as his craving to see Terra destroyed.

  Oppuk spent some time enjoying various reveries concerning the Pluthrak's possible end. Battle in space against Ekhat was always dangerous, even in warcraft designed for the purpose. It was true that, for reasons the Jao did not understand, the Ekhat never varied from the odd design of their spacecraft, despite its fragility. Still, the huge vessels wielded immensely powerful lasers. A single hit from such would split the Pluthrak's needle of a ship like a red-hot ax, spilling the survivors into an almost-sure lingering death, cast alone and adrift in space.

  He was well into a reverie concerning Aille krinnu ava Pluthrak's last struggling gasps for air in an exhausted lifesuit when Ullwa's return forced him to break it off.

  Ullwa withdrew slightly, as soon as his eyes fell on her; just a fraction of an az, but Oppuk caught the motion. "What is the problem now?" he demanded, half-angry, half-exasperated.

  His servitor's ears waggled with indecision. "I just finished speaking with the Subcommandant. He states that he intends to remain on the planet's surface to organize an assault on the Complete Harmony's ships when they emerge from the framepoint."

  "I have not authorized that!" Oppuk jerked onto his feet, scattering his dehabia. Several slid into the tiny pool and began to sink. "We have no ships with enough firepower to be effective in that situation! Any attempt to stop the Ekhat at that stage will just result in an even greater loss of ships and personnel than we are already facing. He is to follow standard procedure to the best of our limited resources!"

  The female's whiskers quivered and he thought he detected something quite unexpected in the line of her shoulders. "I reminded the Subcommandant of your orders, and very forcefully. But the Pluthrak declines to obey at this time." She forced her body into shocked-disapproval, but it did not hang well on her. Her lines kept slipping and he was certain something else, far less appropriate, lay beneath it. "The Subcommandant says he must follow his own vithrik in this matter."

  "His own vithrik?" Oppuk leaped upon the hapless Ullwa and crushed her to the wet deck with his weight, hands anchored in her luxurious nap. "Vithrik is vithrik!" he cried into her face. "It does not vary from one individual to the next! I will have him declared kroudh for this!"

  She writhed within his grasp, ears flattened, then visibly forced herself to be still, surrendering to his authority. Her nap was soft beneath his hands, her scent pleasantly fresh. He ran a finger across her cheek, tracing that oddly compelling pattern.

  His own eyes must be blazing with unmitigated fury, but she did not look aside.

  "Aille krinnu ava Pluthrak has declared himself kroudh, Governor. He asked me to relay that new status to the Naukra. Which I did."

  Oppuk stared down at her, his mind dumb. Declared himself kroudh.

  Dimly, in that long-unused part of his mind that had once glided easily and surely through the tactics of kochan rivalry, he realized what a disaster had just befallen him. Whatever happened, Oppuk would be shamed irrevocably. Shamed, and dishonored. Even if Aille died, Oppuk's own life was sure to be demanded by Pluthrak—and, most likely, Narvo would accede to the demand. At the very least, he would be declared kroudh himself. He faced ruin and destruction now, not simply exasperation and bitterness.

  Advance-by-oscillation. Why did I not see it before this moment? I have been a fool!

  He was still staring at Ullwa. She, for her part, was straining every muscle to remain quietly and safely neutral. But then her body and mind betrayed her and he realized profound-admiration had crept into her limbs. A posture which was certainly not being bestowed upon him.

  It was too much to bear. With an incoherent cry, his massive muscles surged, snapping her neck as easily as if she had been human. Then he lurched back onto his feet. The ship's engines thrummed through the hull as he gazed down at the lifeless body.

  Aille would follow "his own vithrik," would he? As if there could ever be two equally proper courses of action in a situation, rather than one best!

  He shoved aside—drove under—that decrepit ancient part of his mind that nattered at him about tactics. It was all nonsense. The Naukra Krith Ludh would never condone such disrespect.

  Surely not. Long ago, Narvo had been granted oudh status here, first among all kochan on Terra. By refusing to follow orders, Aille had placed Pluthrak firmly in the wrong. Oppuk could demand a price for this insubordination, not the least of which would be Aille krinnu ava Pluthrak's life. He would see Pluthrak itself shamed in the bargain.

  He was breathing more easily now, relaxing again. Still, that annoying part of his mind chattered at him, but he ignored it completely.

  All that assumed, of course, that the crecheling survived the Ekhat attack on the planet. Oppuk thought it extremely unlikely, but rather hoped the fool did. It would be so much more entertaining to accept his life before an assembly of high-status Jao than to hear he had perished and his ashes were mingled with whatever was left of this lost world.

  But, either way, Terra would be no more, Aille krinnu ava Pluthrak would be dead, and Pluthrak's precious vithrik would be forsworn—all outcomes very pleasant to anticipate.

  His satisfaction ebbed a bit, as his eyes fell on the corpse of Ullwa again. Now he had no servitors left who were even half-competent.

  Though, now that he thought about it, Ullwa had not been a servitor. She had been a member of his personal service. The only one left, in fact.

  Odd, that he should have forgotten that.

  * * *

  Caitlin, unlike the others, had not left immediately to carry out Aille's orders. "I need to be able to pass along more general guidelines to my father," she said after Tully had gone. "Organizing the children to be taken into the shelters is clear enough. But there's much more that will need to be done. The Jao administrative officials are now either in orbit with Oppuk or in the shelters. Even the ones in the shelters, by the time they get back to their posts, will be too few to handle everything."

  Aille's head was cocked in some posture she couldn't quite read. Careful-consideration, perhaps, or subdued-disapproval? It seemed years since she'd had enough sleep and she felt utterly adrift.

  "You are correct," he said finally, ears changing mood too rapidly for her to read. "Contact your parent in my name and communicate our proposed plan of action." He hesitated, his body all deliberation. "Tell him to assume command of the continent—and have him tell the other human regional authorities to do the same, on their continents and areas. That include
s command over whatever jinau forces are stationed there. He and the other regional authorities can report to Hami, who will be serving as my assistant—and then, after I leave with the warships, as my representative on the entire planet. I do not have time to take direct command myself and the human authorities will be more useful and adept at close supervision in any event."

  Surprised, she spread her arms in willingness-to-be-of-use, struggling to hide her reaction. The jinau were a large, highly trained and well equipped army, a third of them stationed in North America. A force more than enough to change the balance of power on this world. Oppuk would never have turned authority over them to human officials. What did Aille mean by this?

  She left the echoing reception room with its vast pool, Tamt at her side, then dropped by the Subcommandant's quarters to check on Dr. Kinsey. He was sitting in a chair, staring down at his hands. Someone had found him clean clothes in the abandoned servants' quarters, though they were too big. Both the twill pants legs and cotton sleeves had been rolled up. The man's eyes, though bloodshot, didn't seem as exhausted as they had earlier.

  "Why don't you come with me?" she said, taking his arm. "I'm going to the communications center to contact my father."

  "Certainly," he said, rising. "I'm tired, but I'm sick of just sitting around with nothing to do except wonder what it feels like to be a piece of frying bacon. How are you feeling?"

  She grinned wryly. "I feel great, believe it or not. Exhausted, sure, but . . . Like I'm really alive, for the first time in my life. I'm a trusted member of the Subcommandant's personal service instead of a combination flunkey and hostage—and now I'm working to avert the greatest danger this world has ever faced. Best of all, I don't have Banle breathing down my neck anymore. Instead I've got a Jao bodyguard"—she glanced at Tamt, and bestowed on her a smile that was not wry at all—"who's a friend of mine as well as a real bodyguard, and no one's treating me like some stupid china doll to be stuck on a shelf in the corner so she won't break. For once in my life, I'm actually getting to do something important!"

  She tugged him toward the door. "And you are too, so get moving. Except for me—and then, only in some ways—you know more about the Jao than anybody. My father will want your advice."

  They found several Jao in the palace's communications center, apparently assigned to this duty out of the retinue brought from Pascagoula by Terniary-Adjunct Chul. The two technicians, both female, gazed at Caitlin as though a pet monkey had escaped its cage and demanded to use the telephone. But they established a connection to her father in St. Louis without comment.

  She settled in a chair as Ben Stockwell's image formed on the Jao hologrid. Her father was still a vital man, though in his early sixties, silver-haired and tan, and right now looking as worried as she'd ever seen him. His hands twitched when he saw her, and he leaned toward the sensor relay, as though he could reach through it. "Caitlin! It's been days since we've heard from you, and . . . everything's in chaos. Most of the Jao packed up and left, leaving no orders." He looked closer. "What happened to your arm and face? My God, are you all right?"

  A lump closed her throat and she hugged her broken arm against her chest. "I'm fine, Dad." Her eyes drank him in and she realized with a rush how much she missed her parents. She'd been too busy to even think about such things in the past few days. "But, like you said, there's a lot of problems on this end. This isn't a personal call. I'm to pass on an official message. How much do you know about the current crisis?"

  His mouth thinned. "Damn little. Supposedly we're in danger of an imminent attack by these mysterious Ekhat. Governor Oppuk has ordered all Jao troops either off the planet or into reinforced bunkers. No humans have been offered similar protection, as far as I can find out. If this is a ruse, it's a damned thorough one!"

  "It's all true," she said and resisted the urge to lean closer herself. "I—" She broke off, the horror of those two Ekhat savaging one another rising up strong in her memory, then rubbed her eyes. "I've been on one of the Ekhat ships with the Subcommandant. I've—seen them—seen things that make clear to me that the Jao are telling the truth, and they have been all along. The Ekhat are truly beyond understanding. In fact, I see now why the Jao were never able to explain adequately about them. I hardly know where to begin myself. The one thing I can say for sure is that the Ekhat are very frightening."

  "You went with the Subcommandant?" Ben Stockwell glanced over her shoulder at the professor. "Why?"

  Kinsey raised weary eyes to the image. "She's part of the Pluthrak's personal service now, Mr. Stockwell. In fact, that's how he kept her from being murdered by Oppuk. After Oppuk broke her arm and ordered one of the soldiers to shoot her."

  "His service?" Her father half-rose to his feet. "But . . . Jao don't take humans into their personal service. For God's sake, that's the equivalent of being part of their most trusted immediate staff."

  Then, seeing the expressions on Caitlin and Kinsey's faces, he fell back into his chair. "I will be damned. So Pluthrak really does live up to the legends."

  "There's more, Dad, lots more."

  For the next few minutes, Caitlin gave her father a summary of everything that was happening, along with passing on to him Aille's orders.

  When she was done, her father's face was very tense.

  "In a moment, we'll talk about the political situation. But first . . . Caitlin, do you have any real understanding of what your new position involves?"

  She hesitated, then shook her head. "Not really."

  "I didn't think so. All you've ever seen is Oppuk's version of 'personal service,' which—by Jao standards, mind you—is a travesty. His so-called service wasn't much different from simple household servants. But that is not the normal pattern."

  Kinsey nodded. "No, it isn't. That much is clear to me from my studies, though I still don't quite have a feel for what the Jao ideal really is."

  Ben Stockwell ran fingers through his air. "I probably have a better sense, Professor—in practice, if not in terms of book learning. I've been around enough Jao from other great kochan to get the flavor of it. The Dano Kaul is an arrogant bastard—but he never treats his service the way Oppuk does. Certainly not his fraghta, Jutre."

  He paused, obviously searching for words. "In human terms, I think the closest equivalent would be the personal staff that our former U.S. Presidents used to assemble around them. Not the Cabinet, mind you, but their own immediate advisors. White House chiefs of staff, that sort of thing."

  Caitlin choked down a laugh. Now she understood why Aille and Yaut had been so puzzled by Tully's question. It would have been like a White House chief of staff asking how he was going to pay for the cab fare to carry out the President's instructions.

  "I didn't know that," she said. "I knew it was a fairly prestigious position, but—"

  "Fairly prestigious?" Her father barked a laugh. "Being added to the personal service of a leader from one of the great kochan is like . . . Well, my earlier analogy only goes so far. It's much more what we would call an aristocratic thing. For a Jao, like going from a lowly knight—or a yeoman—to a sudden earldom."

  His face was tense again. "But there's one thing you need to understand, Caitlin. In at least one respect, being added to personal service is completely unlike the old White House staffs. It's permanent, not temporary, from all I can tell. You don't quit a great kochan leader's personal service when you're ready to move on to something else. It's . . . not allowed."

  "Oh." Caitlin felt a little light-headed. "Well, I can live with that. Aille krinnu ava Pluthrak is . . . impressive. God knows, he's nothing at all like Oppuk." She shook herself. "Besides, we have more important things to worry about right now."

  "Caitlin," he said in a strangled voice, "this Subcommandant won't always be stationed on Earth. He's important. If he—and we—survive what's coming at us, at some point, he'll be reassigned and his service will go with him. You might never walk on Earth again!"

  He was seeing her dead bro
thers when he looked at her, she realized, reliving all the long ago loss and heartache, about to be repeated. The Jao had plundered this world, in the process taking almost everything and everyone he loved. He didn't want to lose her too.

  "You may be right," she said, "but none of that will mean anything if we don't figure out what to do about the Ekhat first. Forget whatever situation I've gotten myself into and concentrate on that for now. We'll worry about the rest later, once we make it through the next few days."

  He nodded and she could tell he was biting back words. And tears, she thought. "All right." After a moment, his eyes moved to Kinsey.

  "You're probably the human race's expert on the Jao, Professor, as least as far as their history goes. What's your assessment of the situation? I'm not talking about the problem with the Ekhat. That's a military problem which will either be handled or it won't. I'm talking about the overall political situation. I have a feeling we're sitting on a powderkeg here."

  Kinsey sat up straighter and made vaguely groping motions with his hands in midair. Again, Caitlin had to stifle a laugh. Kinsey was unconsciously trying to adopt his favorite professorial stance when explaining something to his students while seated—clasp his hands before him on the desk. The problem was, he had no desk.

  After a moment, realizing what he was doing, Kinsey sighed and lowered his hands into his lap. He did clasp them, though.

  "Powderkeg is right. In essence, Mr. President, what you're looking at is vaguely analogous to the Indian Mutiny of 1857—except, in this instance, the rebellious natives and their sepoy troops are being organized and led by the equivalent of an English duke. For all practical purposes, except for the flotilla under Oppuk's command on the moon, Aille krinnu ava Pluthrak has seized control of Terra—its military forces as well as its civilian administration. And he proposes to turn over all effective control to the natives, subject to the final approval of him or his appointed staff." He glanced at Caitlin. "Which includes humans as well as Jao."