For her, though, leaving would have meant returning to her father's mansion in St. Louis, the city that was now the human capital of North America—more precisely, the human administrative center. The real "capital," in the sense of the seat of power, was of course Oppuk's palace in Oklahoma City. Caitlin's father had deliberately placed the human administrative center as far away as he could from Oppuk's glowering presence, without moving it so far away as to give obvious insult.
Here, on a campus in central Michigan, she only had to deal with her bodyguard/jailer, Banle. There, in St. Louis, the entire Stockwell household would be under Jao scrutiny night and day. Oppuk had allowed Caitlin's father to establish himself outside of Oklahoma City—if for no other reason, because Oppuk disliked dealing with humans anyway, except as menial servants—but he had also made sure to keep a strong Jao presence in St. Louis.
True, compared to humans, the Jao were quite unsophisticated when it came to espionage and internal security surveillance. They had nothing equivalent to the FBI—much less such all-pervasive secret police as the old KGB or the still-older Tsarist Okhrana—and they used human informers in a desultory manner. But with their military power and their much-superior electronic capabilities, it hardly mattered. Jao clumsiness enabled the Resistance to survive in their little nooks and crannies all over North America. But they would have quickly spotted any attempt by human officials in the highly visible center at St. Louis to organize anything on a broader scale than the localized efforts of the various groups in the Resistance.
"Hey, Caitlin!" a male voice called.
She turned to see Alex Breck jogging across the grass toward her. He was tall and lean, with badly cut black hair that kept falling in his eyes. For the past week, Alex had been trying to get her to go out on a date, with her doing her best to evade the problem. A problem, in his case, because she would have enjoyed it. Alex was one of the few people on campus who liked her for herself. Of that, she was quite sure.
"Caitlin, wait up!"
She stopped, and clutched her briefcase to her chest as though it could protect her.
"I've been calling you for days!" He stopped, breathing hard, his brown eyes trained on her face.
"I—haven't been checking my messages," she said, which was a lie and she could see he knew it. "I have a lot of work to do for Professor Kinsey before classes start again." She raised her chin. "He's writing a book about the history of the Jao."
"Yeah, I know," he said. "I just can't figure out why. Don't we all hear enough about the Jao day in, day out, as it is, without writing books about them too?"
Privately, she agreed. "It's important to Professor Kinsey," she said for Banle's ears, "and I'm getting paid for it."
"Right," he said and reached for her hand.
She tried to take it, then lost her grip on the briefcase and everything tumbled into the grass. In a second, they were both on their knees, picking up books and papers and pens. He laughed and she sat back on her heels, the wind in her face, laughing with him.
"Come on," he said, then tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Quit avoiding me. Let's go out to dinner tonight."
She gazed up at his honest expression, then sighed. "I'd like to," she said, "but you don't know what you're asking for. I—don't have a private life. I never have." She looked back at Banle's tall golden figure, standing at the edge of the shade, nap dappled with sunlight. "That Jao over there has been my jailer since I was four years old. As far as I know, she'll be with me until the day I die. She may even be my scheduled executioner. If the Jao ever decide they have a good reason for me to die, I can promise you I'll be dead before anyone can blink twice."
His brow furrowed. She could tell he didn't really believe her about this either.
She stuffed the last of her papers back into the battered briefcase. "I can't date anyone. It just isn't fair to them, and I certainly wouldn't enjoy trying to have a relationship with Banle looming over my shoulder. Maybe someday things will change, but for now I'm not holding my breath."
She closed her eyes, remembering her dead older brother, Brent. "If I let myself care about someone, he'll just make another hostage. I have enough to handle already being a hostage myself."
"I see." He stood and then, after hesitating a moment, stalked back down the path, giving Banle a wide berth.
And so much for that. Too bad. I liked him.
Actually, he didn't see, she thought, as she resumed walking. He didn't have the faintest idea of what her life was really like, but that was okay. She didn't want him to see. Things were bad enough as it was, without adding another player.