Come the Revolution by Frank Chadwick Page A

life, usually the ten centimeter version worn on a provost’s chest. I realized I hadn’t seen one since I became fluent in aGavoosh. I wondered about the three black characters from the Varoki alphabet in the center of the silver sunburst device, characters I’d always ignored as gibberish before.
    “J, H, S,” I said to the lance corporal. “What does that stand for?”
    “Jiihi, Haramaayi, Sanzaat,” he answered immediately.
    Knowledge, Resolve, Obedience.
    I took a deep breath. Just a big bureaucracy, I reminded myself. Just a big bureaucracy.
    A junior sergeant showed up and walked me through the internal security checkpoint, which served less to screen people than contain them. The local jammers came up and I turned down the feed volume on my commlink. The dull metal alloy of the sliding door looked like armor plate to me, about two centimeters thick, and it just let us into a holding room. The door on the far side opened as soon as the one behind us closed and clunked like a massive bank vault. Someone could force the security screening stations at the outside doors but they’d play merry hell getting into the bowels of the building.
    And once you were in, you’d play merry hell getting out unless they wanted you out.
    Although I’d dealt with CSJ liaison officers before, I’d never been to this office. Now I wondered why. This setup gave the guys behind the desks a hell of a psychological advantage. Maybe they didn’t want people to get too used to the experience, lest it lose its special luster.

Chapter Ten
    E-Tomai rose from behind his desk when I entered. His face was slightly flushed and his ears lay flat against the sides of his head, so when he said he was happy to see me again, I didn’t believe him. He offered his hand in a Human handshake, though, and I took it.
    “I hope you will not mind if my superior joins us,” e-Tomai said once we were seated. “He is visiting and is naturally interested in today’s unfortunate events.”
    I didn’t mind, and I realized that was probably why e-Tomai was uneasy. Something to remember when trying to read people: it’s not always about you. The door behind me opened and e-Tomai sprang to his feet. I’m not sure I normally would have risen myself but those massive vault doors made me at least open to the idea of respect for authority.
    The older Varoki standing in the doorway wore a plain black-and-red uniform, the front adorned only by the silver starburst CSJ badge and two dull metal chest gorgets trimmed in red gold, the rank insignia of a field marshal lieutenant. I felt a little of the blood drain from my own face. E-Tomai had called him his superior. He wasn’t kidding. There was only one field marshal lieutenant in the Provost Corps: its commandant.
    The officer’s face gave nothing away, ears relaxed, skin all but colorless. His head and hands had lost much of their iridescence with age, or perhaps exposure to sun and the elements. He had not acquired the thick midriff common to almost all older Varoki, but he also did not have a lot of muscle mass on his upper body. He had the lean build of an ascetic, not an athlete.
    “You are Mr. Naradnyo,” he said. “I am Field Marshal Lieutenant e-Loyolaan. Please proceed, Captain.” He crossed the room and took a chair where e-Tomai and I could both see him. If he really wanted to spook one of us he would have sat where that person couldn’t see him, so that was something.
    “Mr. Naradnyo,” Captain e-Tomai began, “as you know, we have a very serious situation developing as a result of the Praha-Riz disturbance. It has been only about four hours and we are still trying to assess the cause and extent of the riot. Any light you could shed on the incident would be most appreciated.”
    “Whatever vid you’ve seen on the float, I didn’t have anything to do with starting that,” I said.
    Captain e-Tomai exchanged a glance with his boss, e-Loyolaan, before answering. “We have already reached