by Eric Flint
The Preceptor gazed at him. Again flow eased, so that even the wind, threading through the black rocks, seemed to stand still and an eternity passed between one breath and the next.
"He will." A female Narvo elder stepped forward and her eyes flashed. Her nap was pale-russet and her vai camiti stood out as though painted on with a bold hand. "Vithrik is the same for all, Pluthrak or Narvo. Oppuk will do whatever is deemed appropriate by the Naukra."
She had spoken for him, as though he were not even emerged. A current shivered through the watching crowd and all present felt Oppuk's hot shame.
Only the Harriers did not react, their bodies much more devoid of expression than a Terran's. With the natives, Yaut thought, one always knew they were thinking something, just not what. The Harriers, though, with their training, seemed to suppress all opinion.
"Summon those who witnessed the events in question, then."
Narvo, who had brought the complaint against Aille, would go first. Yaut thought Oppuk would be the primary witness, though he would have been wise to choose another. Kaul krinnu ava Dano, Commandant of all military forces in Terra's solar system, would have been ideal. But Dano had chosen to remain neutral, it seemed. Yaut did not see Kaul anywhere.
Apparently, he had gauged correctly. Oppuk stepped forward.
His posture was overbearing, an awkward combination of contempt mingled with disdain, too similar to perform well in tandem. "From the start, this Pluthrak would not listen to more experienced officers," he said. "He was counseled not to trust Terrans, that jinau soldiers were savage and unpredictable, requiring a firm hand. His response was to draft Terrans into his personal service at the earliest opportunity!"
Ears dipped as the crowd took this in, but the Harriers seemed unaffected.
"Then," Oppuk continued, "when Terrans went whining to him about having to scrap their outmoded tech, he conducted field tests to assuage their pride and argued they had a point!" He glowered at Aille. "He actually believes their addiction to ollnat is a strength!"
"But it did work, did it not?" The Preceptor seemed stillness itself, as though nothing exterior touched him.
"They lost half their ships!" Oppuk exploded, as though the words were being torn out of him. "And it will never work again. Next time, the Ekhat will expect their primitive tactics and be ready!"
"It is possible, of course, that the Ekhat ships sent a message back before being destroyed, regarding what they had encountered." The Preceptor turned black eyes to Aille. "What then?"
Aille found his lines gone to careful-consideration. "No single tactic, however effective, has to work forever. And I have found that human inventiveness coupled with Jao practicality is a very effective combination. We will devise something. Indeed, we have already begun working on it."
Oppuk turned to the assembled crowd of Naukra representatives. "Do you hear that? The crecheling is besotted with these creatures! He never stirs without one of them in attendance! He has at least twenty in his service by now!"
"Actually," Yaut said, "he has but four."
"Four out of how many?" Oppuk demanded, glaring at Aille. "How many Jao has he taken into his service?"
"Several," Aille said. He began to name them, but Oppuk interrupted.
"Perhaps Pluthrak has nothing to learn from other Jao!" Oppuk strode into the center and faced Aille. "Perhaps Pluthrak is more comfortable surrounded by worthless lifeforms!"
This was the long-standing aggression between Narvo and Pluthrak at its most blatant. Yaut could see how the naked demonstration pained the Narvo elder at Oppuk's back. It was shockingly bad manners, on display for all to see.
If only he could have instructed Aille how to handle a situation like this—he'd hoped to have more time, and he should have. Flow had not seemed so rapid, when they had first arrived on Terra.
Aille was still, his body magnificently loose and neutral. His eyes were so perfectly black that even Yaut, who knew him to possess superb control, was amazed.
To Yaut's surprise, another Jao suddenly spoke, stepping forward from behind another Naukra representative. "I have a question for Oppuk krinnu ava Narvo," he stated forcefully. "How many Jao does he have in his personal service? And if there are none—none left—what happened to them?"
To Yaut's even greater surprise, he saw that the Jao who had spoken was Wrot. The old bauta had left Pascagoula several solar cycles earlier, excusing himself from Aille's service temporarily in order to attend to what he called, vaguely, "my kochan's affairs."
Wrot bestowed a quick bow at Aille. "I am one of the young Pluthrak's personal service, as it happens. But I am speaking for my kochan here. I have been selected as their representative at the Naukra."
He turned back to Oppuk, and any pretense of politeness vanished. Blunt as always, to the point of coarseness, the old Hemm's posture was angry-contempt.
"Answer the question, Oppuk!" he commanded. "Where is your service?"
Oppuk seemed frozen, for a moment. When he spoke, his words came awkwardly. "My . . . fraghta left long ago. Too old and weary to serve any longer, she said."
Yaut saw the Narvo elders standing behind Oppuk shift their stance, uneasily. Clearly enough, Oppuk was not telling the truth—not all of it, at least.
Wrot was unrelenting. "I am not concerned about 'long ago.' You had a Jao in your personal service very recently. Ullwa is her name. Or rather—was her name."
The bowlegged old bauta advanced upon the much larger Oppuk, his ears flat, his whole body now shrieking furious-determination.
"Answer the question, you Narvo whelp! You—who boast of your Jao-ness. Where is Ullwa?"
Oppuk, involuntarily, stepped back a pace. "She—she is dead."
The stance of the Narvo elders now shifted again. Their unease was no longer disguised at all. Indeed, the eyes of the old female who led them—Nikau was her name—were shining green with suspicion.
Nikau now stepped forward. "Dead? How?"
Oppuk glanced back at her, then looked away. His stance shifted, exuding what he obviously meant to be firm-determination but was much closer to childish petulant-stubbornness. "She was hopelessly incompetent at her duties. I put her down."
A vast sigh swept through the Naukra assembly. Nikau, on the other hand, seemed frozen in place.
Wrot spoke again, quickly. "So. Now everyone knows. This is the truth of Oppuk's self-named 'firm rule.' He is a beast, nothing more—and treats his own Jao service as brutally as he has the humans placed under his charge."
The bauta pivoted, gracefully for his age, and pointed toward Aille's service. "Now I will show you, in contrast, how well Aille krinnu ava Pluthrak has trained his human service. Caitlin Stockwell, step forth."
Yaut glanced at Aille, wondering. But some subtlety in the youngster's stance made clear that he had not planned this with Wrot ahead of time. Aille, clearly enough, was as surprised as Yaut by Wrot's intervention.
Brilliant intervention, as it happened. The old bauta had skewered Oppuk—and now, Yaut was sure, would skewer him again.
Hopefully, Stockwell would survive.
* * *
Caitlin lowered her head and slipped off the blue fabric sling that supported her broken arm.
"Wait a minute," Kralik said urgently. "You're not anywhere near healed yet."
"I need both arms for this," she said, cradling her elbow with her good hand.
"I'm going with you," Kralik said.
"She must enter the circle alone," Yaut said, "if she is to speak."
Caitlin stepped forward, then stopped and pulled off the heeled shoes and dropped them. Behind her, she heard Ed's low chuckle, full of humor despite the strain of the moment.
She forced a smile from her own face, since the Jao new to Terra would misunderstand the expression. It wasn't easy. Like Ed, for reasons impossible to explain, pitching those shoes seemed like a transition; the end of one order, the beginning of something else entirely new.
* * *
; The wind sang through Aille's whiskers as he waited. The air was rich with brine and spray, and hai tau, life-in-motion. Avians wheeled overhead, soaring low enough for him to pick out the elongated shape of their heads and the whiteness of their body coverings. This world was fascinating. He wanted to go back to the sea and follow another whale, perhaps even swim with it this time.
But duty lay elsewhere. Flow, which had been almost stagnant a moment before, suddenly surged. As he had gauged himself—obviously, Wrot had reached the same conclusion—Caitlin's appearance would prove decisive.
Caitlin strode past him into the center of the black stones. Her body expressed request-for-attention, the form so well executed, no well brought up Jao could have done any better. Even her broken arm was held properly, though, at that angle, she must be feeling considerable discomfort.
The Bond Preceptor shifted his notice so subtly that even Aille could not have said when Caitlin became his focus, instead of him. "You wish to speak?"
She was still concentrating on her next posture, no doubt. Aille felt himself straining to perceive it, his own ears at intrigued-inquiry. What did she mean to do here?
"Vaish," she said, using the greeting's proper form, signifying 'I see you,' rather than vaist, 'You see me,' a subtle distinction most humans did not grasp. "I am told my testimony might be of use here."
"Your designation?" the Harrier asked, seeking her function, rather than her name.
"I am a member of the Subcommandant's personal service," she said, correctly divining his intent.
A ripple ran through the onlookers. Testimony had already been presented as to how he had taken natives into his service. But Aille knew that most of them were astonished at the ease and grace of her postures.
"What would you say?"
"What I wish, if that is permitted."
The Preceptor's response came instantly, easily. "That is a given, when one steps into the Naukra circle. How could it be otherwise?"
She nodded; then, as if realizing the momentary error, shifted into accepted-understanding. The flow of the movement was so smooth, so sure, that the two gestures—one human, one Jao—seemed to form a new whole. Aille was certain that he was not the only Jao present who suddenly glimpsed a new language emerging.
"Humans, of course, cannot perceive all the considerations, but it seems appropriate that we be allowed to present our viewpoint. The conflict developed on our world, and it is our world which will bear the consequences, should an ineffective solution be adopted."
Aille watched her move, the slow sweep of her arms toward earnest-conviction, the tilt of her head adding desire-to-be-of-service. A tripartite stance? His whiskers stiffened. Would one so young and inexperienced really be so ambitious?
The Preceptor stared too, along with the rest of the crowd, some of whom forgot themselves so far as to climb up on the rocks and watch. Her forehead furrowed as she concentrated, wisely going slowly, edging toward completion. To compensate for the extra finger, she held two-as-one on each hand, as Aille had once suggested back in the Governor's palace during that fateful reception. Her immobile ears contributed nothing to the stance, of course, and her lack of whiskers was jarring, but the rest of her—
Aille sucked in his breath in admiration. She was magnificent. He had been right to employ her in his service—and Oppuk's bigotry was now obvious to all.
"There are two solutions contemplated here," she said, trembling with the effort of holding the unusually complicated posture. "Though they are not equal to the Jao, neither will much vary the Terran condition."
The Preceptor watched, his gaze black and steady, not giving away the least of what he thought of this amazing display.
"There must be another path," she said, "a third alternative, which would not only satisfy human honor but best enable humans to be of use in the war against the Ekhat." Her stance altered seamlessly to profound-respect. "I wish to suggest that third way."
Chapter 43
"No!"
Oppuk found himself lunging at the brazen creature before he had even known he was in motion. Of all the insults heaped upon him, this was the one impossible to bear.
"This is an animal, a savage!"
Oppuk struck her down with a single slapping blow. Unfortunately, she jerked her head back at the last instant, so only his fingers made contact with her cheek. Had he struck her full-handed, as powerful as he was, he would have broken her neck.
As he'd intended. No matter. Fury was still surging through him. He would make good the lack.
The Stockwell female stumbled back and fell, then stared up at him; dazed, but her hands still forming the curves of profound-respect. In that moment, she represented all of Terra to him, a world of barbarians who would not yield to his rightful authority, yet fawned upon the first Pluthrak who flattered them. He threw himself on her.
She tried to fend him off, though it was impossible to do so, as pathetically weak as she was. Oppuk gripped both her fragile wrists in one hand and raised the other for a killing blow. He should have put her down the first time he saw her parody that guard's postures! He—
* * *
Iron fingers jerked him off the struggling female and cast him aside as though his weight meant nothing. His head rocked with a blow, then another and another—and then sheer agony paralyzed him. The same iron fingers had dislocated his ankle; then, the other; and then, so quickly it all seemed as one moment of torture, both of his wrists.
Stunned and crippled, Oppuk sprawled on the sand. Still, he struggled to rise—until iron fingers seized his shoulders and iron landed on his back, low down where it was most vulnerable even on a Jao, and ruptured his spine.
* * *
Yaut was already moving the instant Oppuk began his strike at Caitlin. Moving, in the way that only a great kochan fraghta can move, at a moment of clan outrage. To all those who watched, he seemed more like a predator than a Jao.
But Yaut krinnu Jithra vau Pluthrak was far more dangerous than any predator. With its power and vast associations, Pluthrak could select and shape the finest fraghta. Deadly as well as shrewd—and Jithra was a kochan famous for its savage fighting skills.
Large and powerful as he was, Oppuk had no chance at all. Nor would he, even had he been facing Yaut's charge directly. What followed would simply have taken a bit longer. Not much.
* * *
"Holy shit," hissed Tully. Even his glee at seeing Oppuk brought down was an undertone. Mostly, he was just shaken, finally seeing Yaut's full fury unleashed.
Yojimbo, for sure.
Oppuk's great Jao bones were crushed and mangled in the fraghta's hands like so many chicken wings. Each grip perfectly placed, the maximum possible leverage applied—each blow, the same. Then, a sudden and utterly vicious kneedrop to the lower spine, done while Yaut positioned Oppuk's shoulders to prevent any cushioning of the impact. Tully could hear the vertebra give way.
And I thought he gave me a hard time!
It all took but seconds. Yaut ended by seizing Oppuk's heavy nape and, one-handed, heaving the broken body back onto its knees.
Then, slapping the back of Oppuk's head to lower it and expose the neck vertebrae, Yaut half-crouched and drew a dagger from his harness.
Staring green-eyed with fury at the Narvo representatives, the fraghta bellowed: "I demand his life!"
His posture meant something too, Tully was sure, but he didn't know what. He'd never seen that posture on any Jao before.
Specifically, that is, Tully didn't know what it meant. The general idea was clear enough.
Readiness-to-dismember, let's call it. Or, how about: give-me-any-shit-and-you're-all-dead-meat?
* * *
Nikau krinnu ava Narvo did not think to argue. Oppuk's transgression of custom was so extreme that his life was forfeit the moment the first blow landed. No, the moment the blow was even launched.
Human or not, the female was in Pluthrak's service, not Narvo's—and the fact that the Pluthrak in question wa
s now kroudh was simply irrelevant, under the circumstances.
Bad enough, that Oppuk had admitted to killing a member of his own service. But that deed, however barbarous, was a matter for Narvo to settle privately. Never—never—did the great kochan attack the service of another. They did not do so, for that matter, with the service of a minor kochan. Even a taif. That was the open road to civil war, which the Naukra existed to prevent—and the Bond would prevent even quicker. Had the Pluthrak fraghta not demanded Oppuk's life, the Bond Preceptor would have done so.
In truth, Nikau was relieved. Oppuk's unsanity—outright madness—was so obvious to all that Narvo itself could now escape with comparatively little damage from this hideous affair. They could be faulted for selecting Oppuk in the first place, and for leaving him in place, to be sure. But . . .
That could be explained away, over time. Eventually, it would be forgotten, as a clean wound leaves behind nothing worse than a scar. And, for the immediate purpose, Oppuk would serve splendidly as the focus of all outrage. At long last, the wretched creature would be of use.
Besides, Nikau thought there might be a small victory to gain here.
* * *
"Take his life," the Narvo elder stated, firmly, her own eyes green with fury. "Narvo casts him out."
Yaut grunted and began to position the dagger for the killing thrust.
"Not you!"
He looked up, puzzled. The old Narvo female was pointing toward Aille's service.
"Not you, fraghta. Since the insult was delivered upon a human, let a human in the kroudh's service take Oppuk's life. Narvo insists."
Yaut had to force himself to restrain his anger. The Narvo's ploy was obvious—and petty. She would try to gain what little satisfaction Narvo could from the situation by having a human bungle the business. Driving a blade through heavy Jao vertebra in a proper killing stroke would be difficult. A human would most likely hack away, dissolving the ritual of the moment into crude butchery.
Petty . . . and stupid.
Now, Yaut had to restrain himself from showing any humor. The Narvo elder might not be unsane, but she shared Oppuk's bigotry. There was at least one human in Aille's service, Yaut was sure, who would serve the purpose admirably.
