"Not sufficiently versatile."
She'd obviously probed for his most instinctive reaction, demanding the gut response unmonitored by reason. The answer brought a glowering expression to her face, an emotional candor which he was not to appreciate until much later. Presently, she nodded.
"They are a commando. More functions of a commando should be interchangeable. Wait here."
She returned to the training area. McKie, watching through the open door, saw her speak to the woman with the pentrate. When Jedrik returned, she nodded to McKie with an expression of approval.
"Anything else?"
"They're awfully damned young. You should have a few seasoned officers among them to put a rein on dangerous impetuosity."
"Yes, I've already set that in motion. Hereafter, McKie, I want you to come out with me every morning for about an hour. Watch the training, but don't interfere. Report your reactions to me."
He nodded. Clearly, she considered him useful and that was a step in the right direction. But it was an idiotic assignment. These violent infants possessed weapons which could make Dosadi uninhabitable. There was an atavistic excitement in the situation, though. He couldn't deny that. Something in the Human psyche responded to mass violence - really, to violence of any sort. It was related to Human sexuality, an ancient stirring from the most primitive times.
Jedrik was moving on, however.
"Stay close."
They were climbing an inside stairway now and McKie, hurrying to keep up, found his thoughts locked on that pentrate in the hands of one of Jedrik's people. The speed with which they'd copied and enlarged it dazzled him. It was another demonstration of why Aritch feared Dosadi.
At the top of the stairs, Jedrik rapped briefly at a door. A male voice said, "Come in."
The door swung open, and McKie found himself presently in a small, unoccupied room with an open portal at the far wall into what appeared to be a larger, well-lighted area. Voices speaking so softly as to be unintelligible came from there. A low table and five cramped chairs occupied the small room. There were no windows, but a frosted overhead fixture provided shadowless illumination. A large sheet of paper with colored graph lines on it covered the low table.
A swish of fabric brought McKie's attention to the open portal. A short, slender woman in a white smock, grey hair, and the dark, penetrating stare of someone accustomed to command entered, followed by a slightly taller man in the same white. He looked older than the woman, except his hair remained a lustrous black. His eyes, too, held that air of command. The woman spoke.
"Excuse the delay, Jedrik. We've been changing the summation. There's now no point where Broey can anticipate and change the transition from riots to full-scale warfare."
McKie was surprised by the abject deference in her voice. This woman considered herself to be far below Jedrik. The man took the same tone, gesturing to chairs.
"Sit down, please. This chart is our summation."
As the woman turned toward him, McKie caught a strong whiff of something pungent on her breath, a not unfamiliar smell. He'd caught traces of it several times in their passage through the Warrens. She went on speaking as Jedrik and McKie slipped into chairs.
"This is not unexpected." She indicated the design on the paper.
The man intruded.
"We've been telling you for some time now that Tria is ready to come over."
"She's trouble," Jedrik said.
"But Gar . . ."
It was the woman, arguing, but Jedrik cut her off.
"I know: Gar does whatever she tells him to do. The daughter runs the father. He thinks she's the most wonderful thing that ever happened, able to . . ."
"Her abilities are not the issue," the man said.
The woman spoke eagerly.
"Yes, it's her influence on Gar that . . ."
"Neither of them anticipated my moves," Jedrik said, "but I anticipated their moves."
The man leaned across the table, his face close to Jedrik's. He appeared suddenly to McKie like a large, dangerous animal - dangerous because his actions could never be fully predicted. His hands twitched when he spoke.
"We've told you every detail of our findings, every source, every conclusion. Now, are you saying you don't share our assessment of . . ."
"You don't understand," Jedrik said.
The woman had drawn back. Now, she nodded.
Jedrik said:
"It isn't the first time I've had to reassess your conclusions. Hear me: Tria will leave Broey when she's ready, not when he's ready. It's the same for anyone she serves, even Gar."
They spoke in unison:
"Leave Gar?"
"Leave anyone. Tria serves only Tria. Never forget that. Especially don't forget it if she comes over to us."
The man and woman were silent.
McKie thought about what Jedrik had said. Her words were another indication that someone on Dosadi might have other than personal aims. Jedrik's tone was unmistakable: she censured and distrusted Tria because Tria served only selfish ambition. Therefore, Jedrik (and this other pair by inference) served some unstated mutual purpose. Was it a form of patriotism they served, species-oriented? BuSab agents were always alert for this dangerous form of tribal madness, not necessarily to suppress it, but to make certain it did not explode into a violence deadly to the ConSentiency.
The white-smocked woman, after mulling her own thoughts, spoke:
"If Tria can't be enlisted for . . . what I mean is, we can use her own self-serving to hold her." She corrected herself. "Unless you believe we cannot convince her we'll overcome Broey." She chewed at her lip, a fearful expression in her eyes.
A shrewd look came over Jedrik's face.
"What is it you suspect?"
The woman pointed to the chart on the table.
"Gar still shares in the major decisions. That shouldn't be, but it is. If he . . ."
The man spoke with subservient eagerness.
"He has some hold on Broey!"
The woman shook her head.