Chapter Ten

Rachael came back to Feodar’s World in style, wafted through the new ground level portal in the rear seat of a luxurious ground effect vehicle. The outgoing Federation ambassador greeted her in full uniform, his orders and decorations gleaming in the sunlight.

Yet, she was nervous. Twelve months of intense therapy were not part of the normal qualification for a Federation ambassador and her decision to arrive in a plain federation uniform, without insignia or rank, suddenly seemed flawed.

“You’ll find a lot changed.” The ambassador smiled as he entered the vehicle and sat down beside her. “You’re a local heroine, the obvious choice as my replacement. The President has expressed his pleasure at your appointment and has asked to see you immediately.”

“He has?” Rachael whispered a prayer her choice of the plain uniform and chignon hairstyle would remind the president of the meal they’d shared together as agents. He’d complimented her appearance then and it might tempt him to overlook her part in what happened after that meal.

Her companion sensed her unease. “He says this world owes you honor and he has a personal debt.”

“Yes. I betrayed him and sabotaged his ship.” She wondered whether the President was referring to his promise in the restaurant to spank her and smiled nervously. It would be a novel way to start a diplomatic relationship.

“He holds no grudges, but you’ve drawn a tough assignment. He’s a skilled negotiator and his loyalty to his people makes him incorruptible.”

“His people? I thought he was Alliance and the rest his operational legend.”

“He undoubtedly worked with them, but the Elite of Trygon now claims him as a son and the records back it up. They sent him off world to prepare him for his role in deposing the pontiff. Joining the Alliance was a logical step.”

“Why not us?” She knew the answer, but she was curious what reason a trained diplomat and negotiator would give.

“The Alliance has no record of colonization. His father wanted no inconvenient loyalties getting in the way.” This man had no illusions about his role.

He tapped the driver on the shoulder and they drove toward the Temple. More surprises. Where the gate had been, a broad thoroughfare led to a bustling market and the inner circle buildings all boasted signs naming them university faculties.

“The priests now teach and education is free to all. The administration disburses the income from our trading licenses to support gifted students and is building regional schools everywhere. Be careful, he understands our bottom line obsession and punishes transgressions by attacking profits.” His tone sounded rueful. An admission of lessons learned the hard way.

They passed the inner circle and reached the gardens surrounding the palace. The changes here were subtle and she had to look hard to see the vegetables and fruits growing among the flowers of the ornamental garden beds.

“This is part of the University too. He’s made it self-sufficient in food and the horticulture faculty students run it. We should catch up with him at the fish farm on the seaward side of the estate. He’s helping in the set-up.” The ambassador seemed amused.

They drove around the palace and reached the beach, no longer hemmed in by a wall, the debris used to build a causeway and seawall enclosing a shallow lagoon. A knot of uniformed Federation advisors stood on a barge directing the efforts of workers in the water, the latter stripped to the waist at least—she couldn’t see if they wore anything below the level of chest deep water.

“We’ll have to walk from here.” The ambassador waited for the driver to open the door. “Keep to the duck boards till we reach the causeway.”

Rachael had added to her height with stiletto heels. She retained the vague impression the President stood taller and wanted him to have no avoidable advantage at this first official meeting. She viewed the thirty feet of duckboards with some suspicion and hoped the causeway surface wasn’t cobbled. A stumbling approach would do nothing to calm her nerves.

Helped out of the vehicle by the ambassador, she stood for a moment, her eyes searching the crowded barge. Her memories of him were sharp and augmented by recent holograms. She should recognize him.

“As usual, he’s in the thick of it.” The ambassador felt amused and he pointed at the forward edge of the barge, but Rachel recognized no one. She’d have to get closer.

The causeway surface was rough, claiming her attention to avoid stumbles, and the gangway down to the barge tried her balance even further, so she reached the group of Federation advisors still puzzled. Seeing their attention was on the water, she turned, just as a worker duck-dove to the bottom, giving her a glimpse of bare buttocks as he disappeared. She saw no sign of Jack. She turned back to the ambassador, who’d followed her, and found him grinning at some private joke. She hesitated to ask the obvious question, but a familiar voice saved her.

“Hello, Rachael. Glad you could join us. I’ll be with you as soon as we secure the bottom netting.” The naked worker had resurfaced. His grin showed white against the weathered brown of his face. Jack.

“Hello, Mister President.” She tried to keep it formal. “I’ve come to present my credentials.”

“You called me Jack before. Nothing important has changed, and you don’t need credentials here. You’re welcome in any capacity you chose to assume.” He swam the few strokes to the barge and reached up to take her hand.

She bent down and placed her hand in his, wondering all the time whether she was being wise. It would take little effort on his part to tip her into the water.

He seemed to sense her thought, for his grip tightened an instant before he relinquished her hand. “Walk back to your vehicle. I’ll join you there as soon as I can.”

She’d forgotten the impact of those eyes. “Thank you, Mister President. I appreciate you taking the time to speak to me.” A flush warmed her cheeks at his smile.

His face looked leaner and browner than she remembered, his body hard and fit with physical labor. She saw an air of contentment in his manner. This was a man doing a worthwhile job and enjoying it. He winked deliberately as he turned away and Rachael’s cheeks warmed further. She’d underestimated how difficult this man would prove and he seemed determined to bypass protocol.

* * * *

Jack watched her make her way back onto the causeway. She looked much as he remembered her; a million-credit beauty who could switch in an instant from femme fatale to the girl you’d take home to Mother. There were more shadows in her mind though, and a lurking terror imperfectly recognized. His grandmother was right. Rachael needed help.

He smiled suddenly.

Not even Peter opposed Dael when she decided someone needed help. Rachael didn’t know it yet, but she’d gained a powerful champion—one whose overwhelming love could weave miracles of healing. The Pontiff was already improving under his grandmother’s gentle care. He’d added another syllable to his ancestors name and become D’feodar. He would never be entirely trustworthy and remain under the supervision of the Group Mind until old age removed him from temptation. It was a better fate than he’d earned here. Jack still had trouble forgiving him for the way he’d treated Rachael.

The family had analyzed the return voyage to the Treaty Port in detail, taking the details from his memory and adding their own impressions from the moments when one or the other had checked his well being. Their consensus was he’d done well in the field operation, but needed more strategic thought.

“The woman worked out why we needed a hero,” his father said. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was a little busy surviving.” Jack thought Karrel unfair.

“She was under direct threat of death too and had only her brains to defend herself. I followed her thought processes with interest.” His father shook his head. “She did very well, better than you in this respect. You’ll learn much from her.”

“What do you mean?” His father never made slips of the tongue.

“We’re giving you your first independent mission. Fifty years to establish a stable democracy on Feodar’s world. She’ll be part of it.” Karrel held up his hand and began ticking the points on his fingers. “General education, trade agreements ensuring continued independence from the Federation, modernize the economy, create political awareness, and foster the habit of reasoned debate.” He smiled. “The Federation will respond with whatever weapons it can find, particularly the woman. As soon as they’re sure of her loyalty, they’ll send her back and hope you start thinking with what lies between your legs.”

Jack acknowledged his father had been right, but then he usually was.

* * * *

Rachael returned to the vehicle knowing he’d out maneuvered her once more. Diplomatic protocol had ensured Jack knew the exact time she’d arrive. He’d set this up to throw her off-balance and she’d walked straight into it. She bit her lower lip in vexation. Stumbled was a better description.

It wasn’t a good start.

She had no illusions about her selection for this position, but it represented an escape from fieldwork and she must succeed. There was no going back. When the ambassador handed her into the vehicle she seated herself, surreptitiously cleaning the sand from her shoes on the carpet while he made his way around to the other side. Fortunately, he sensed her disinclination to talk and they sat silent while they waited. Rachael looked down at the floor, thinking hard.

A half memory had surfaced with the touch of his hand. She wasn’t sure whether it was real or another of the phantasms created by a mind overstressed by fear, but she thought she remembered Jack carrying her in his arms after her escape from the Pontiff, while he verbally flayed those around her into action. Like her memory of the Pontiff’s escape from this world, it had the unreal feel of a dream and her therapists had labeled it a trick of her mind turning desire into memory.

“Here he comes.”

The ambassador’s voice brought her back to the present and Rachael looked up. Jack swam toward them, powering though the water like a trained athlete. She saw a towel and some folded clothes on the sand, twenty feet from the water’s edge. He wasn’t missing a trick. She’d have to watch him or appear a prude.

Damn. This job wasn’t going to be easy, and she’d underestimated him badly.

Jack emerged from the water and her body reacted, months of therapy destroyed in an instant, and the memory of their love-making in the temple startlingly clear. His epic journey back to the Treaty Port had stripped him down to the essential musculature, all excess weight gone, and he looked magnificent—a superior predator in its prime. There was something else as well, a refining of a quality she’d already noted and admired. He was a king without arrogance, a god with humility, utterly complete in himself.

A small child approached him and he squatted down to bring their faces level, following the child’s animated speech with a broad smile. His head nodded in agreement. When the mother arrived to reclaim the little girl, he stood, lifting the child in his arms.

Rachael couldn’t hear the conversation, but obviously the mother apologized and he’d deflected the apology and led the woman into talking about herself and her family. Her outstretched arm indicated the workers in the water and he turned to identify her subject, nodding when he did and adding some words of praise. The woman’s expression as she took the child from his arms made Rachael hate her.

“He does that sort of thing all the time,” the ambassador said. “It makes guards redundant and our undercover people either swap sides or are sent back to us shame-faced.”

“There must be some reaction to the changes he’s made. He can’t be pleasing everyone.”

“It’s still honeymoon time. They’ve never had a leader directly concerned with their welfare and will forgive him anything because he obviously cares. He does nothing to persuade them, just gets on with the job of modernizing, spreading the benefits as far as he can. It’s disheartening how well he succeeds.”

Rachael considered the situation and spoke, more to herself than to her companion. “He’s forcing us into competing for their loyalty.”

“You’re right. Which makes it strange he’s done nothing to tarnish your reputation? I think he actually fosters the idea you are more the heroine than he ever was a hero.” The ambassador shook his head at the foolishness.

Rachael nodded thoughtfully. “He wants us to compete. My status gives us the tools and he intends we use them. He must be confident he can limit our gains.” She turned to stare at Jack. “My return is part of his plan.” He’d finished speaking to the woman and was on his way again. “We’ll play a waiting game. Find out what else he has in mind.” She’d taken charge.

“They said you were too good to remain a field operative.” The ambassador smiled. “I can understand why I was sent into the Temple to pressure the Pontiff for your release.”

“It came close to getting me killed.” Rachael only pushed away the memory of the glittering pike point aimed at her throat, and the Pontiff’s eyes behind it, because Jack had reached the vehicle.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “It was thoughtless of me to spoil your big moment. You’ve earned more consideration than this. If you’d like to present your credentials, I’ll accept them formally and we’ll have a proper welcoming shindig in a week or two, probably borrow the Grand Hall.” His expression looked contrite, but she detected a flicker of mischief in his eyes.

“Perhaps I’ll wait until you’re more appropriately attired.” She must hold her own.

Jack looked down at his worn work shirt and shorts, as if seeing them for the first time. “You’re right,” he said. “Give me an hour and we’ll meet in the center of the market square. It’ll make everyone take notice.”

“An hour,” Rachael agreed. “I can walk there from the compound.”

“Thank you. I’ll look forward to it.” His smile suggested he anticipated her company rather than the ceremony.

He’s doing this to me, she thought. Why do I believe I can sense what he’s thinking? He’s standing there, watching me process this, and smiling as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. I know it’s impossible, but it doesn’t change a thing.

“I’ll go then.” It came out as if she’d asked his permission. This was insufferable.

“It will give me time to prepare.” He agreed with her, laughing all the time in his mind.

Rachael forced herself to sit back in the seat. “Drive to the compound,” she told the driver, and felt thankful when the vehicle lifted from the ground and started moving. The air blast from under the skirts sent sand flying around Jack’s ankles, but he didn’t flinch. She could feel his eyes watching her, but didn’t dare return his gaze. This was harder than she thought.

She felt grateful the outgoing ambassador chose to remain silent as the vehicle made its way to the compound. All her embryonic plans for dealing with Jack were in disarray, and she had only an hour to recast them.

The Federation had sprung a high level leak.

It was the only logical explanation for Jack’s success in either turning or exposing every agent. The man at her side would be a good source. He could ignore Federation procedure and scan all the files, identifying the agents and passing the information to Jack, probably not directly. Additionally, he’d been here through the final days of the Papacy, and his move to save her had surprised everyone. The Alliance had shown their skill in turning high-level personnel before. This could be another example.

Rachael gnawed her lower lip.

“We’re there.” The ambassador broke his silence. “I assume you’ll go alone to this meeting.”

“Y-yes.” She hadn’t considered it yet, but it felt right.

“Then we’ll make this the formal handover. Congratulations, Madame Ambassador. Good Luck. I envy you the challenge. Most postings are boring. This one will be anything but.” He stepped out of the vehicle and offered her his hand.

“Thank you.” Rachael alighted and shook his hand. “I hope I’m up to it.”

“If you didn’t have the confidence of the Federation, you wouldn’t be here, and it wasn’t built on failure.”

It was the catch cry of the organization. She’d heard it personally at least a thousand times. It claimed omniscience for an entity spread across hundreds of worlds and based on a planet whose reflected light would take millennia to reach this planet. Once, it filled her with pride at being part of it. Now, she no longer felt sure.

Her doubts made her angry, and she unconsciously squared her shoulders. She’d accepted this responsibility willingly. It was her choice and hers alone. Let others lean on catch cries, she’d come into this with her eyes open. “I’ll let you attend to your packing.” She was in charge now. “Take as long as you want. I’ll have my things sent to the guest suite. I’m going to walk around the market and get the feel of things before I meet him again.”

“A wise move.” Her predecessor smiled. “Don’t bother with the guest suite. I had plenty of warning. My attaché moved the last of my things while we were away. I’ll make my farewells and be gone when you return. Once again, Good Luck.” He thrust out his hand.

“Thank you.” She shook hands again and watched him depart, standing alone in the sunlight until the doors closed behind him, before turning to the bustle of the Market Square. She had much to learn.

Her first lesson came as she reached the market. Everyone recognized her. Children smiled shyly, adults nodded their approval and called greetings.

“I saw him hurrying,” one oldster chuckled. “I can now see why.” He glanced over his shoulder and nodded to a hidden watcher. “My granddaughter has something for you.”

A young girl, about eight years old and hurriedly dressed in her best clothes, curtseyed and presented her with a posy. Rachael squatted down to bring herself to the child’s height and spoke with her for several minutes, casually straightening the blouse where it had caught in the waistband and tucking errant curls into an askew headband. She had nieces the same age and it came naturally. The smiles around her grew, triggering a thoughtful reaction in Rachael’s mind. She was copying Jack’s treatment of the child, jumping through a hoop he’d shown her. It galled her, but she continued until she sensed the child’s restlessness and stood up. The child curtseyed again and fled back to the anonymity of the crowd, surrendering to renewed self-consciousness once she lost the focus of Rachael’s interest.

Another lesson.

One of the Elite approached, a former priest by the look of his hair, the tonsure not completely grown out. “Greetings, Madame Ambassador. Your return has brought joy to many. We need proven friends when facing so many challenges.” He wore the plain kilt and matching jacket with pride. The Pontiff had banned the traditional dress of the Elite, but she’d seen at least a score wearing it since her return. It was quite attractive.

“Thank you. The Federation stands ready to help wherever it can.”

A shadow of disapproval, quickly gone, greeted her words, but he bowed low. “My greeting was a personal one. I saw your courage when I served the Pontiff.”

Rachael looked at his face again and recognized the priest/scribe who’d freed her from the guardroom. “I am so sorry,” she said, stepping close and holding out her hand. “I didn’t recognize you.”

“You only saw me once and the circumstances were difficult.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I am your devoted servant.”

Rachael sensed more than a polite phrase. “You are not here by accident.”

“He thought you might find a guide useful.”

“A guide or a guard?”

“You have no need of a guard here. The commoners revere your courage, as do we of the Elite. My role is to answer your questions as truthfully as I can. He would have nothing hidden from you.”

“Does that instruction extend to everyone?” It was a futile question, but she could think of nothing else to ask.

“No one fears his wrath. They will answer as they choose.” The Elite had read her meaning better. “All honor your faithfulness and condemn the Federation’s tardiness in coming to your aid. They will judge whether you ask on the Federation’s behalf and answer accordingly.”

“Will you make the same judgment?”

“I am instructed not to.”

“You haven’t answered my question.” Priests were the masters of sophistry. She could afford no confusion.

“I fear the responsibility he would have us accept for our destiny. Our world has no tradition of self-determination. It will take time to create the need to do so, and we will be vulnerable. The rapaciousness of the Federation is well known, and he alone will stand in their way. He believes you will aid us, but, much as I revere your courage, I do not. Yet, I would not bar your participation, nor do less than my best to persuade you. Therefore I must judge each occasion and respect his wishes where I can.”

It was a long speech. An honest one as well. She was on trial here. “I think we should walk and I will ask only questions that will not cause you concern.”

He nodded and fell in beside Rachael as she continued toward the market.

Now that her field days had ended, she’d thought herself suited to the role of diplomat, but it seemed she was mistaken. Too many loyalties vied for recognition, swaying her, this way and that. Jack’s efforts were admirable, the priest’s doubts understandable, the Federation’s role questionable. She could rattle off all the claimed advantages of joining the Federation and remain unconvinced it was best for these people. The real world was too complex for simple answers.

Yet, her feet carried her inexorably toward a meeting where she would declare herself the servant of the Federation and bind herself to its loyalties.

They stopped at a stall displaying carved wooden figures. She saw a dozen images of her, even one in Federation uniform. They made her beautiful, strong, and vibrant. She found it very flattering. At the back of the stall sat several examples of her face, carved in half profile on half of a flat board shaped like a trapezium with curious notches on the sides. She leaned closer, about to ask a question, when a growing murmur in the crowd behind turned her.

“He comes,” someone called and a path opened to allow him through.

A fitted shirt in white silk, a midnight blue taffeta kilt and vest, knee-high white socks and brightly polished soft black shoes, an outfit that could have looked effeminate on a lesser man. On Jack, it made him a king. Rachael unconsciously drew breath and straightened. Even in heels, her eyes were only just level with his.

“Greetings, Rachael. I bid you welcome and name you Feodar Friend.” He made it formal, his words carrying to trigger a wave of murmured approval.

“Greetings, Mister President. I would present my credentials.”

“You are welcome in whatever guise you choose, but I will accept them gladly and name you a personal friend as well.”

Rachael covered the distance between them and took her credentials from her shoulder bag. “Here are my credentials as ambassador appointed by the Federation to Feodar’s World.”

“They are accepted.” He took the papers, gave them a courtesy glance, and passed them to a functionary who’d appeared at his shoulder. “Take my hand. I’ve begged a table outside the inn. We can sit and take refreshment.” He extended his right hand and Rachael rested her fingers in his palm.

His fingers closed around them gently and he turned to lead the way, her hand held just below shoulder height in an overt display of friendship.

The crowd fell back. Turning away now the show had ended, granting them privacy in a show of genuine affection.

“You’re looking well.” He seated her at an open-air table separated from the rest and shaded by a white canvas umbrella. They sat alone in the midst of a crowd.

“Thank you. I could say the same.” The wooden swivel chair was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, polished until it gleamed, while the table was its match. Her fingers tested the satin of its surface without conscious volition.

“They built these for my use,” he said. “I find the inn convenient. It allows everyone access without protocol.”

Rachael turned to consider the building. It was new, built against the inner side of the wall sometime in the last twelve months with stones taken from the demolished section. Two stories with a roof garden at this end, its forecourt was crowded with relaxed laughing groups.

“It must get noisy at night.”

He smiled. “I stay up late.”

She had to admire the simplicity of his arrangements. There could be twenty clandestine agents in the crowd and no one would be the wiser. He’d made monitoring his contacts impossible by the simple expedient of swamping any attempt at surveillance. She could see a dozen Federation personnel from where she sat, all part of larger indigenous groups. Any of them could be passing information to their contacts.

They watched the innkeeper approach and Jack spoke softly, his words private. “Watch out for the cider. They bring it in by schooner and it’s got a kick like a mule. They serve a house white that’s close to a late harvest Riesling.”

“It sounds perfect to me.” She matched his tone.

The innkeeper took their order and returned with two tall chilled glasses and an insulated carafe. “I put in refrigeration when I built the place,” he explained, as he filled her glass with white wine. “Solar powered. The cold drinks bring the customers.”

Rachael sipped her wine. Jack’s description was accurate. “Perfect,” she said. The innkeeper beamed as he poured a second glass for Jack.

“There’s plenty more where it came from. Enjoy.” He backed up a couple of steps and then turned away.

Rachael watched him thread his way through the crowd, buying time before she turned back to Jack. The adroitness of his switches from formality to informality intensified her nervousness. It felt like trying to capture quicksilver with her fingers.

“I’d forgotten how beautiful you are.” The admission turned her sharply and she faced him as he raised his glass in a toast. “Here’s to the Federation’s newest ambassador. May her first posting be crowned with success.”

“To your Presidency,” she responded. “Already a success.”

They touched glasses and drank deeply as guarantees of their sincerity.

“I miss sitting with someone merely to enjoy their company.” His tone sounded musing. “It’s nice. Having you here makes the rest worth it.”

He had to be lying, but Rachael couldn’t quite still the rush of pleasure his words triggered. This man was good. She would have to be very careful. “Thank you, Mister President. You do me great honor.” Keep it formal, girl, her mind warned. Don’t let him seduce you. Her body reacted to the possibility and she had to force herself to sit still. This was worse than undercover work. There it was simply a matter of retaining one loyalty while pretending another. Here opposing loyalties struggled constantly for supremacy. Damn.

Jack’s chuckle surprised her and she shot him a look of inquiry.

“The fool behind you almost poured his cider down the jacket of the man next to him.”

Rachael turned, but the incident had ended. A man just sat clumsily at a crowded table. This wasn’t fair. Jack felt relaxed enough for nearby antics to amuse him while she struggled to remain calm.

“That’s not very flattering, Mister President,” she said. “You use pretty words to distract me and look elsewhere for amusement.”

“I stand rebuked.” Mischief flared in his eyes. “From this moment you have my undivided attention, but there’s a price.”

“Oh?”

“Call me Jack. My title defines my role, not me.”

Rachael sensed the trap. Discard the constant reminder of their roles and her vulnerability to him as a man increased. He had nothing to lose, but she did. Yet, insist on formality and she branded herself incompetent. Her predecessor had named Jack a skillful negotiator and this proved he was right. Damn, Damn, Damn.

Rachel bought time by raising her glass and draining it. The wine caressed her palate and ignited a glow further down. Its sweetness disguised the high alcohol content.

“This wine is very deceptive…” she forced herself to concede gracefully, “…Jack.”

His smile deepened. “Have some more. It grows on you.” He reached across to refill her glass. “You are among friends here. There’s nothing to fear and no tricks.”

A ridiculous idea surfaced in Rachael’s mind, drawing sustenance from the number of times he’d answered her thoughts as well as her words. Could the Alliance be telepaths as well as immortals? She shook her head at her flight of fancy. In his place, she would have made the same guesses and been right just as often, especially if she were controlling the tempo of the exchanges as skillfully. He was no more a mind reader than any good salesman.

What was he selling? Rachael smiled. If it was sex, she should be in the market. The celibacy of the last year wasn’t normal. She picked up her refilled glass and sipped deeply, eyeing him across the rim. Dare I go further? She took another sip.

“I owe you a lot.” Jack caught her with the glass to her lips. “My epic voyage would have ended early, were it not for you.”

“It wouldn’t have happened at all if I hadn’t had your ship sabotaged.”

He waved her confession aside. “You were doing your job, just as I was.” His smile grew reminiscent. “Whenever things got tough, I promised myself I’d get back to the Treaty Port and paddle your backside. The thought kept me going.”

“I’m not sure if I’m flattered by that,” she lied. The admission sent a delicious tingle down her spine to the threatened area. “Men always make promises they have no intention of keeping.”

“I still intend to keep that one. Perhaps not in public, but my time will come.”

“Promises, promises, promises.” She drained her glass and reached for the carafe, but he beat her to it.

“This stuff has a kick too,” he warned. “It’s more insidious than the cider, but just as effective.”

“Nonsense.” She pushed her glass toward him. She decided to throw caution to the wind.

He shrugged and refilled it.

Something he did quite frequently in the hours that followed.