The Course of Empire(30)

Strange, he thought. Why had they ever inhabited this latitude, if their physiology was not suited for these conditions?



The Jao, of course, had been crafted, not left to the messy randomness of evolutionary chance. The Ekhat had come across them when they were only low level sentients, then redesigned them to be hearty, able to withstand any number of climatic extremes, and highly intelligent. Slaves were too valuable to be allowed to die at the slightest environmental provocation.



The driver increased the vehicle's speed so that buildings flicked by, little more than blurs. He had the impression of human faces, Jao faces, other vehicles, sleek structures poured and molded in the Jao fashion, rather than heaped up, then bolted together as humans did. The car swerved to one side and stopped suddenly in the shadow of a looming portal, but the safety field pinned him safely in its grip.



The driver turned and looked over the seat, his face a pale oval. "This is as far as I can take you, sir. Humans aren't allowed past this gate."



Yaut peered out into the garish yellow sunshine. A heavily fortified guard post blocked the way. Two uniformed Jao gazed back at him without curiosity. "What being beyond?"



"Jao Country," he said. The safety field faded. "They'll let you in." He scrambled out, then opened the door for Yaut again. "But I'll have to wait, unless you want me to go back for the Subcommandant."



Yaut pondered. "No," he said, still struggling with the native language, "he will seeing to his transport. Waiting, you."



The driver nodded and climbed back into the vehicle.



Yaut straightened his halfcape, then approached the gate with its two Jao guards. The nearer, a female, was obviously low-kochan, though sturdy enough. Her shoulders slumped in jaded-indifference. The other, also female and even more indolent, had no visible vai camiti and only one small service bar branded into her heartward cheek. She affected a credible, though graceless, lack-of-perception, gazing out over his head as though he weren't there.



The gate was made of a sliding metal grill that could be retracted to admit traffic. The guards stood behind a window inside a small building, barely large enough to hold the two of them. He stepped up to the windows, whiskers bristling. The effrontery of these two! They should be soundly beaten! He wondered if Aille would be displeased if he took a few moments to do it here and now on his own initiative.



The first guard's eyes flicked toward him as he reached out for the bar blocking his way. "What do you want, short-legs?"



It had been a long time since Yaut had heard that particular insult. These days, most Jao would take one look at the array of service brands on his cheeks, not to mention his scars, and know better than to make careless personal remarks. Discipline had slipped here—good sense, even more so.



"What difference does it make what I want?" he said, holding fast on to his temper. "As I understand it, this portion of the base is restricted to Jao only. I am Jao. I wish to come in."



"Not so fast," the shorter of the two said. "We have a log to fill out. State your purpose."



"I am on the business of Subcommandant Aille krinnu ava Pluthrak," he said, holding himself in stern-admonishment.



The guard glanced over at her workmate. "Pluthrak?" she said. "Here?" Her posture subtly shifted to imply rude-disbelief.



The other's ears flattened in amusement. "Hey, short-legs, I have Pluthrak business to conduct too. Perhaps I should accompany you."



"How interesting," Yaut said. "I was not aware, as the Subcommandant's fraghta, that he had requested your assistance, but by all means, come with me. In fact, I insist upon it."



She was, he noted, a rangy, raw-boned creature, who bore but a single service bar on her own cheek. Her vai camiti was a scattering of haphazard stripes of no discernible pattern, as though two widely divergent kochan had produced in her an unsuccessful mixture of genes. Homely as well as ill-mannered, such as she would never be called back to her birthworld to breed.



He pulled out his personal board, noted her badge number, then dispatched a command to reassign her to Aille's personal service. Two blinks later, it was approved. He repressed a sigh. Aille's retinue was growing more quickly than Yaut would have preferred. But that was to be expected in a posting like this, he supposed.



He turned back, pleased to see startlement overtake the guard's—no, former guard's—entire body. "I hope you have experience as a personal bodyguard," he said. "Or, if not, can learn quickly. Subcommandant Aille dislikes incompetence. I detest it."