Jihan's mind whirled after the conversation with Tully. As disagreeable as preservation of the untruth had been, revealing the deception now seemed the worst possible decision. The Han would not trust either the humans or the Jao. And most certainly they would refuse to leave Valeron under their protection.
Fear coursed through her, bitter and dark. She had played a part in this, a terrible part. It was her fault as much as theirs. They were aliens. It was understandable that their actions would not benefit the Lleix, but she should have known better. Her aureole throbbed with dismay and she did not know which way to turn. The Starsifters had been right to send her away. She was woefully short, but she had let herself forget that for a brief span of time. When Caitlin had revealed the truth, Jihan should have laid this problem at the large and capable feet of her elders and let them decide, rather than taking that right upon her inadequate self.
In a daze, she relayed the humans' wish to speak at the Han to Hadata and then requested permission to pilot the Starwarder ship back to the landing field at the edge of the colony. It was a difficult approach and for a while she lost herself in the complex calculations. The rest of the Lleix ships were coming in, too, most of their pilots short on experience so that they crowded all the best approach vectors.
Once safely down, she disembarked, pushing past the rest of the crew in her distress. Though all of them were taller, they edged back out of her way. Outside the ship, the early morning was crisp with the promise of more snow, though the air stank with the unharmonious exhaust of burnt fuel. She looked around, seeing the crews of the other ships as they swarmed out, then promptly fell to servicing their vessels. This time they did not have to flee the Ekhat, but that day was almost here. All ships had to be ready to launch now at any moment. The Lleix could not afford to be caught unprepared.
Although she knew she should stay to help with the Starwarder ship, she instead padded over the nearest bridge, seeking solitude so that she could force her brain to think. She passed servants and youngsters who were coming to the landing field, as well as elders, but acknowledged none of them.
Leaving behind the unnerving racket of landing ships and shouting voices, she found herself outside an abandoned house elegantly decorated with Boh. She traced the carvings with her fingers. The ancient faces gazed past her, their eyes enigmatic, looking somewhere else as they had for so long, not-seeing the Lleix here in their exile.
In the west, the mountains stood under leaden clouds, angular and gray against the gradually brightening dawn. To the east lay the plains, clear gray-green sky, the dochaya and the landing field. She was mired in the middle, caught between two extremes, the Jao and the Ekhat, and did not know what to do.
The Eldests had agreed to leave with the humans if they offered, but they would never go with the Jao once they understood the truth of the matter, not even to escape the great devils who ate the Universe. The Jao had presented untruth most grievously. The humans had supported them in the deception and then she herself had kept silent when she knew better. Jao might well be every bit as savage as the ancient recordings indicated. She had been a fool to trust them.
Finally, exhausted and hungry, she trudged home to Jaolore, speaking to no one she passed. Inside the elian-house, Kajin and Pyr had already risen for the day. A simple meal was cooking in the kitchens so that the air was fragrant with sourgrain porridge, but she found the pair already in the Duty Chamber, examining the old records, industriously attempting to learn more about these duplicitous creatures. All was as it should be and yet nothing was right.
"Set aside your studies for now," she said, then returned to the kitchens to sag onto a bench before the cooking unit. There, she stared at the rising steam from the pot, finding herself too weary and agitated to even think of eating.
The two Jaolore followed her. "I have reason," she said, "to think that the archives have little more of relevance to teach us about the Jao. The records are simply too old and out of date. Matters have changed. Things are not as we thought. Jaolore would do better to study the living Jao who walk among us."
Pyr only bowed his head, but Kajin's elegant black gaze regarded her shrewdly. "You have learned something about the Jao," he said with a flick of his fingers, "something that disturbs you."
"Yes." She could not look at him, but instead studied the ceiling with its lovely exposed beams. They had been anointed with red-seed oil day after day by diligent servants down through the generations until they gleamed. Such care had been taken in the construction of this house, and then in its maintenance. Now they must either abandon it or die beneath its broad rafters when the Ekhat returned. She felt so miserably inadequate. It was Last-of-Days on this world either way.
"The humans and the Jao have sent many ships," she said. "Enough to transport our entire population. They wish us to flee before the Ekhat return."
Kajin blinked, plainly not understanding her agitation. "That is what the Han previously discussed."
"Yes." She returned her eyes to the overhead beams, though she could feel both of her Jaolore staring at her.
"Eldest, that is a good thing," Pyr said finally, "is it not? The Ekhat have found us. We cannot stay here and survive."
"After today, the Han will not agree," she said.
Kajin's aureole fluttered. "But the Han already decided to accept human assistance."
"That," she said, "was before." Her robe gaped open and she was too frazzled to care. Indeed, she was so exhausted, she did not know if she would ever be able to rise from this bench again. Tully had decided that it was time for the truth, though, so truth was going to be told. She might as well begin telling it here. Everyone would know soon enough, once the humans and the Jao spoke to the Han. She would not shame her elian further by withholding the information.
Kajin's eyes glittered. "Before what?"
She tried to speak, but the terrible words would not come.
Pyr edged closer. "You are tired, Eldest." He ladled steaming sourgrain into a bowl and held it out. "You must eat and then rest."
She waved the well-meaning youth aside. "That was before they knew the truth," she said.
"And what exactly is there to know?" Kajin said, catching the implications when Pyr clearly did not.
But then, she thought, Kajin had spent many seasons studying the duplicitous Ekhat. His mind was far more prepared for this devious situation than hers.
"I will tell you," she said. The two pairs of eyes followed as she rose on shaky legs and headed for the Application Chamber, the most appropriate setting for such a discussion. "Both of you," she added, in case the overly reticent Pyr thought to exclude himself. "What I say can go no further than this elian for now, but I think soon, perhaps even by tonight, everyone in the colony will know these things."
She took the Eldest's seat in the Application Chamber, letting Kajin and Pyr arrange themselves before her by seniority. They were a small elian, but they would do things properly.
"A great untruth was given to us after the battle," she said, though the words were leaden upon her tongue. "Jao are not and never have been human slaves. Instead, some time ago, Jao traveled to Terra, homeworld of humans, and conquered them."
Pyr's startled gaze never left her face, though Kajin stared over her head. She went on. "The human, Caitlin, is not Queen of the Universe."
After the human ship returned to Valeron, Lim and her three companions hastened to the dochaya. Tully wanted to go with them, but given the possible repercussions when the Lleix learned the truth, knew he had to stay with his unit.
Fortunately, Caitlin had returned with the assault ships. Ed hadn't been at all happy about that, but Ronz was calling the shots and he thought having Caitlin on the scene might be a help.
"You go with them, Caitlin," Tully said. "You too, Lieutenant Miller."
Caewithe's eyes widened. "And, ah . . . Do what, exactly? Sir?"
He smiled crookedly. "Damfino. But you both know the situation. Just do what you can. Nothing else, at least we'll know what happened."
He turned his head. "I'll detail a squad to accompany you."
Caitlin shook her head. "I'd recommend against that, Gabe. Look, as oppressive as their setup is, from our point of view, we've never seen any indication at all that the Lleix are prone to violence."
"She's right, sir," said Miller. "Makes no sense to me, personally. Where I come from, any boss conducted himself the way these elian do, the least you'd have is a walkout. But, there it is. The point being, sir, that I think we're perfectly safe—and dragging along a squad is more likely to cause trouble than prevent it."
Tully had read Miller's personnel file, since she was one of his subordinates. "Where you come from is San Francisco, Miller." Even a quarter of a century after the Conquest, the city was famous for being the most liberal city in the continent. "What—"
"Stereotypes, stereotypes," she said, clucking her tongue. "I don't come from Nob Hill, sir. Or Haight-Ashbury. My family are dockworkers. Have been for at least three generations." She and Caitlin began putting on their outerwear, preparing for the trek back through the cold. "We don't take kindly to management, you might say."
She gave him a sly smile. "Except for military management, of course. Most of us do a term of service, too."
As they slogged toward the dochaya, Caitlin thought about Miller's remarks. They'd been offhand, of course. More in the way of wisecracks than any serious suggestion.
Still . . .
"Do you really think the Lleix in the dochaya could organize a union, Caewithe?"
The young lieutenant's shrug was barely visible under her heavy outerwear. "Probably not, ma'am. I don't know if I think the differences between humans and aliens are genetic or cultural, or most likely a combination of both. What I do know is that changing their attitudes is awfully damn hard. I mean, look at how often we still clash with Jao—and how often the underlying reason is simply because we're misunderstanding each other. And we've been dealing with them for a generation."
They slogged on further. By now, the figures of the four Lleix they were following were barely visible in the distance. "Here's what I do know," Miller continued. "Major Tully has been talking to these dochaya people about our notions of equality and justice since the minute he got wind of what was happening to them. And even though they're incredibly capable when it comes to learning languages, and listened carefully to everything he said, I think the words still don't really mean a thing to them. Or whatever they do mean to them, they're not what we mean by the terms."
Caitlin was sure she was right. Human social arrangements and customs—trade unions being just one of many—were the product of centuries of history. Even if you assumed there were no genetic differences between humans and Lleix when it came to determining their social customs, it was unlikely that the Lleix would adopt human customs so quickly. Even underdog Lleix, much less a hidebound and ossified elite like the elian.
Jihan might—but Caitlin had already come to the conclusion that Jihan was an exceptional individual. She was certainly exceptional for a member of an elian.
Still . . .
When Caitlin Kralik and Caewithe Miller returned to the assault craft, they were both smiling widely.
"She's a genius, sir," Caewithe reported.
"I already knew that," said Tully. He waved down Caitlin's sputter of protest. "What'd she do? Organize them into a union?"
Miller shook her head, as she began removing the bulky outerwear. "Not exactly. I really don't think the word would mean much to them, even if they'd learn to pronounce it right inside of twenty minutes. Any more than—meaning no offense, sir—words like 'justice' and 'equality.' "
"She's right, Gabe," said Caitlin, struggling with her own outerwear. "The notion of a 'trade union' presupposes exactly what these people don't have, which is a preexisting notion that all Lleix share some sort of equal rights. We got that in our own history from a host of influences, including the Enlightenment, the Reformation and—when you get right down to it—some of the basic premises of the world's great religions."
Tully waited patiently. Once Caitlin kicked into her Professor Kinsey mode, she'd insist on beating around the bush for a while. Not as long as Kinsey himself would, of course.
Seeing the expression on his face, she smiled. "Some things really can't be explained in sound bites, Gabe. But I'll make it short. What I decided I might be able to do was persuade the dochaya people that the work they do of organizing themselves every day into a labor force ready, willing and able to provide the elian with whatever assistance they need is itself a specific skill." Her smiled widened into something very close to a grin. "In other words, I proposed a new elian. I suggested they call it the Workorganizers."
She hooked a thumb at Miller. "When they looked dubious, I told them that we humans had such an elian, and that she'd once belonged to it."
Caewithe shrugged. "I did, too, sorta. I'd get work as a casual laborer whenever I needed some money. I didn't formally belong to the union, but the dispatcher didn't care. Not with a brother, an uncle and two cousins in the same local."
Tully had never worked on the docks himself, but he knew people who had and understood the setup. Longshoremen didn't work for any specific stevedoring company. They all got work out of the union-run hiring hall, to which the companies applied whenever they needed laborers.
"In other words, you convinced them that the dochaya oughta be a hiring hall—and because a hiring hall is under the control of the workers instead of management, it amounts to its own kind of business. And so it damn well oughta be allowed to join the local Chamber of Commerce."
He started chuckling. "God, girl, on Earth you'd get laughed out of court. And I'm not sure who'd be laughing harder—the chambers of commerce or the union movement."
She and Miller were chuckling too. "Probably—but we're not on Earth. Once the dochaya people were told that the idea had of-fi-cial human approval, that was good enough." She stopped chuckling and gave Tully a nod that was almost deep enough to be called a bow. "All that stuff you said to them wasn't really a waste of time, Gabe. I think it laid enough of a groundwork to make them receptive."
By now, she and Miller had removed their outerwear. Caewithe began storing it away in the locker next to the hatch. "I think what's more important, probably, is that the dochaya folks have figured out that there's a new sheriff in town."
Tully had come to the same conclusion himself. "Yeah—but I'm not the sheriff, any more. Never was, really, just the deputy. And now Sheriff Ronz has arrived. Who's also known as a Preceptor of the Bond of Ebezon—and the Jao don't recognize trade unions any more than the Lleix do. So what's he going to think?"
Caitlin and Caewithe looked at each other. Then Miller smiled coolly and said, "Oh, I figure Mrs. Kralik can sweet-talk him into it."
Tully's smile matched hers. "Yup, so do I. So hop to it, Mrs. Kralik."
"Why me?" complained Caitlin.
"Haven't you figured it out yet, Caitlin? Like it or not, you're the human race's premier diplomat when it comes to dealing with Bug Eyed Aliens. Bemmies, for short."
"Neither the Jao nor the Lleix are 'bug-eyed,' Major Tully," Caitlin said reprovingly.
"See?" Tully said to Miller. "She's already being diplomatic."
Ronz was somewhat skeptical. But . . .
Caitlin Kralik's skills as a negotiator were a matter of record. And while the Preceptor doubted that Caitlin's maneuver would work for very long, it really didn't have to. Just long enough to get the Lleix aboard the ships and transported to Terra.
Ronz was prepared to use force if necessary to accomplish that, after all. So why not try Caitlin's scheme first? If it didn't work, Ronz could always fall back on the use of soldiers.
He'd brought human jinau for that. Using Jao troops, given the history, would have almost certainly guaranteed that the Lleix would resist bitterly.
"Very well, Caitlin. We'll try it." He turned away from the comm station to consider the commander of those jinau troops.
Who was, of course, Caitlin's very capable husband.
"And what do you think, General?" he asked.
"My wife is smart about these things, sir."
"Yes, I know."
Ronz turned away and began pondering that truth. Time he did so, he thought. If her scheme worked, as had her scheme to solve the human-Jao conflict by forming a new taif . . .
Once might be chance. Twice, no.