It was a bit unsettling to watch. Aille himself—Yaut even more so—would have found that physical intimacy annoying, even repellent. But association proceeded down complex channels, even among Jao. Tamt, it had long been obvious, suffered from an emotional state which was uncommon among Jao.
Humans had a name for it, though. She had been "lonely."
Yaut spoke again. "That does leave the possibility of an attack upon you by humans."
Aille did not bother to glance at Kralik. He was sure of the response before it even came.
"The Pacific Division would be honored to provide the Subcommandant with whatever he requires in the way of a bodyguard," the general said, almost snapping the words. "Up to and including my best battalion, if he needs it, assigned permanently to the duty."
Aille drew up the figures from memory. "A battalion would be excessive, General Kralik. I should think a company would be quite sufficient. Perhaps the same company that came with us on the whale hunt?"
"Yes, sir." He pulled out his communicator. "They're on this same shuttle, I think. I'll give Captain Walters the order immediately."
As Kralik spoke quietly into the comm, Caitlin opened her blue-gray eyes and regarded Aille with puzzled-gratitude. "What will I be required to do, as part of your service?"
"Provide advice on human behavior and psychology," Aille said, "as well as interpreting where needed. You speak fluent Jao with almost no accent and move better than any human I have yet met. Your assistance will be quite valuable. Perhaps you can even train the rest of my human staff to move properly."
"I'll do my best."
There was more she could do, Aille thought, as he examined the landscape passing below. Insanity was rare among the Jao. But Aille was now convinced that the Governor was indeed insane. Or, least, not sane.
And it was for the reason that Yaut thought, he reflected, though it was more subtle than Yaut realized. It was not because Oppuk had "gone native," in the sense that the veteran Wrot had done. That was healthy, even if Wrot had done it in a typically coarse and uncultured Wathnak manner. It was because Oppuk had done the opposite. He had "gone native" not to associate, but to dissociate. He had adopted only those human attributes that were discordant and disruptive, ignoring all else. No, more—repelling all else.
Some deep, compulsive, festering anger and resentment was at work here, which Aille did not understand. But, for whatever reason, the Governor had twisted the necessary association between victor and vanquished into something grotesque. Something . . .
Yes, Yaut was right. Something human.
He turned to Caitlin. "There are some terms I have encountered, studying your history. They puzzled me, and I would ask you to explain them."
"Yes?"
"The first term is: 'tyrant.' The other is 'despot.' "
* * *
Tully watched Aille and the Stockwell girl from a seat further down. For some reason, the Subcommandant seemed especially interested in the President's daughter, though he wasn't sure why.
As far as he knew, Jao did not perceive any degree of sexual attractiveness in humans. Whatever other outrages they had committed upon the human population, there had been no instances of rape. Or, indeed, of any kind of sexual interaction. The reason was not simply physical. Jao sexual organs were similar enough to human for intercourse to be possible.
But by all accounts, they mated only with their own kind—and infrequently at that. It wasn't simply that Jao didn't consort sexually with humans. They didn't seem to consort sexually with each other, either, even though their sexes did everything together including toiletry and bathing. There were no Jao young on this planet. In fact, no human had ever reported even seeing one. Jao kept their families, or whatever passed for families among them, strictly off-world. As a result, humans knew less about the personal lives of their conquerors than they knew about the mating habits of jellyfish.
The hard rectangle of the locator's controls bit into his hip through his back pocket, still in his possession though Yaut had clearly not forgotten about it. He only needed one look at the fraghta's enigmatic black eyes to know that. He was still testing Tully, and the price of failing would most likely be death.
Tully had faced death many times since his childhood and the Jao invasion. But he sensed another, higher price lurking behind that more obvious consequence—loss of honor. If he took the opportunity to run, he might make it, but he would lose what the Jao called vithrik.
There was no reason he should care what Yaut or any other Jao thought of him, no reason why he should do anything but devote his energies to escape, which was after all the primary duty of all prisoners. He had learned that along with the alphabet and counting numbers back in the rebel camps, had eaten it for breakfast in the frosty gray dawns, then mouthed it as a prayer at night.