Chapter Eleven

Rachael woke with a hangover and a blurred memory of the final stages of the evening. Trying to match an ex-spacer in drinking was doomed to failure and she was paying the price for thinking she could. Her last coherent memory was of Jack carrying her draped across his shoulder like a sack while she attempted to sing the verses of a bawdy ditty taught to her earlier in the evening by the sailing master of one of the trading schooners.

She was in bed in the ambassador’s quarters alone so she’d got home somehow.

“Good morning.” Jenni, her personal assistant, sounded obnoxiously bright. “Coffee, orange juice, aspirin. What order do you want them?”

“Aspirin, then a coffin,” Rachael croaked.

“I’ll put the undertaker on standby.” Jenni’s voice sounded devoid of sympathy. “Was that the President who brought you home?”

“I don’t remember.”

“I’m not surprised. You kept insisting he find somewhere private and fulfill his promise.” She didn’t attempt to hide her curiosity. “He just patted your backside, which was convenient seeing you were draped across his shoulder, and said something about you considering it as interest until you could appreciate the experience.”

Rachael groaned. “Not a good first impression.”

“I’m not sure. Witnesses said your dancing on the inn table would be hard to top.”

Another memory surfaced in Rachael’s mind and she groaned again. “If I live, I’ll kill him.”

“You’ll have your chance soon. He was here an hour ago and said to remind you he’d pick you up at eleven for the inspection tour.”

“Oh, God.” Another memory had surfaced. “What’s the time?”

“It’s nearly ten. You have an hour.”

Rachael groaned and rose unsteadily. “Point me in the direction of the shower.”

The hot water felt good and she stood under the flow for several minutes while the aspirin did its work and emerged feeling vaguely human. Her clothes were all hanging in their proper places and she selected a casual outfit, teaming it with high wedge sandals to offset his height advantage. She’d already lost ground. She must minimize any further diminishment of her position.

* * * *

“He’s here.” Jenni had returned. “Right on time.”

“I’m coming.” Rachael lingered for a last check of her appearance. She looked like a corpse.

“Hi. You look gorgeous.” Jack was a picture of smiling health.

“Liar.” She forced herself not to squint against the light.

“You up to walking?”

She nodded gingerly.

“My flyer’s parked on the other side of the wall to the inn. Two hundred yards at the most, if you can make it there, I’ve got something that will help you feel better.”

The pain in her eyes had diminished a little and she could see the smooth paving of the path. It should be manageable. “Let’s go,” she said, stepping bravely into the full sunlight only to stagger at its impact

Vampires must feel like this, every instinct demanded flight, a return to the cool relative darkness she’d just quitted. Somehow, she forced herself to keep walking, one foot in front of the other.

“These might help.” He handed her a pair of wrap-round sunglasses, the mirrored type spacers favored.

“Thank you.” She settled them in place by feel and opened her eyes. Blessed relief. She could see.

“Care for a hair of the dog?” He sounded obscenely cheerful as he offered a hip flask. “I can’t drink and fly, but they say it helps.”

Rachael’s stomach revolted at the thought and she waved his hand away as she concentrated on walking.

His flyer was an ancient VTOL, with the cockpit a clear bubble under a delta wing, the type often used in the early planetary surveys. It was close to a museum piece.

“We don’t have the technical personnel to maintain anything more modern and it does the job.”

She nodded gingerly, more concerned with reaching the shade of the wing.

“You go up first,” he said, indicating the retractable ramp leading up to the rear of the cockpit nacelle. “Take the right hand seat.”

She entered the cockpit, passing through a small galley and seating herself as instructed in the right hand seat. Jack followed and reached across her to open a small panel set flush in the side of her seat. “This is an oxygen mask. Put it on and breathe deeply to trigger the flow.”

Rachael had nothing to lose. The exertion of the walk had returned her hangover to its full virulence and she would have embraced death had it been offered. She held the mask to her face and breathed. The first breath did nothing, nor did the second, but the third was a miracle as the chilled flow of pure oxygen reached her lungs. The sensation was akin to plunging into a chilled mountain pool on a hot day and she took another deep breath. In less than a minute, she felt human again and, five minutes later, healthy enough to remember she sat beside a man both attractive and powerful.

“That’s enough,” he said, taking the mask from her hand. “Anything more would be wasted and there are dangers for the unaccustomed.”

“I don’t know whether to thank you or curse you.”

“I don’t recall forcing you to drink…” he paused. “Nor dance on the table.”

“You can take off now.” She made her voice cold in an attempt to abash him.

It failed miserably, because he chuckled and tugged an imaginary forelock. “Yes Ma’am.”

“Where are we going?” Her brain was working again.

“I thought we’d take an aerial view of the changes here, and then visit two of the regional schools so you can see what we’ve achieved. It will highlight the importance of keeping the tempo going while everyone’s prepared to accept change. They’ll grow tired of it soon enough and then the resistance will start, slowing us to their comfort level.” His smile grew wicked. “It’s really an excuse to have your company. I enjoyed last night and wanted some more of it.”

Rachael couldn’t quite still the rush of pleasure. This man was too good to treat lightly. She would have to be very careful.

“Now you’re feeling better, you might want to have a look at these. Your predecessor went into handover mode and sat on any decision he could postpone until you took over. We need to catch up quickly.” He handed her two folded sheets of paper and turned away, calling up a checklist on the instrument screen and beginning the start-up procedure of the twin gas turbines, one at each end of the wing.

She opened the sheets and read the first. There were two columns. In the first, she saw the areas the Federation had instructed her to pursue, complete with the maximum concession they’d permitted her to make. In the second, she read Jack’s responses. In all bar three areas, he’d accepted the maximum concessions. In the remaining three, he’d written “No Federation involvement required.” The second sheet was an analysis of Federation policy and his reasons for restricting their involvement in the three barred areas. It was cogently constructed and devastatingly accurate. The leak in Federation security was a fountain and it emanated from the highest level, far above her status, or that of her predecessor.

Rachael leaned back in her seat, the sheets lying neglected in her lap as her mind raced.

Was it a leak or a deliberate communication?

She had few illusions about the Federation. They’d recruited her from a country college on her world, trained her, groomed her, and then sent her out on missions that ranged from farcical to deadly. Circumspection came early, a lesson from a mission never intended to succeed, but serving the higher strategic need of interdepartmental politics, the sacrifice of twelve agents an acceptable price. The sick feeling had stayed with her a long time after she realized it was not simple ruthlessness. Two departments were competing for status and the agents would have died to give a department head momentary ascendancy over his rival.

Jack glanced at her in the midst of his pre-flight checklist and touched her with the concern in his expression. He’d known how much a shock those sheets had contained and her face would have confirmed it. He probably chose his moment carefully to give her the illusion of privacy while he prepped the aircraft. There were depths to this spacer turned president who could balance the demands of his role with concern for an individual. She still remembered his attempt to have her withdrawn from undercover because he recognized how close she was to breaking. His arrogance had infuriated her at the time, but he’d been right. The completeness of her breakdown at the end proved it. The therapist had called it cumulative stress, but her memory of the Pontiff’s face behind the pike point still had more power than was comfortable.

“Strapped in?” Jack’s question brought her back to the present.

“Yes.” She checked and nodded confirmation.

The aircraft lifted smoothly, belying its age, and the Treaty Port fell away beneath her feet.

“This was originally the summer residence of the papacy. Your people chose it for the stable weather patterns, but I want to establish a second portal closer to our export industries eventually. The savings in transport will pay its operational costs, but we need to generate enough funds for the set-up.”

She nodded. The setup costs of a planet level portal limited their deployment and the Federation often used it to establish a financial dependency on unwary planets. As a spacer, Jack would have seen it a hundred times. His experience made him a very effective leader for a developing planet.

“When do you need an answer on these?” She tapped the sheets, now folded on her knees.

“Preferably sooner than later, but at your convenience.” His tone sounded casual, but she knew he understood the dilemma he’d created.

She had a sequence of choices to make, each one depending upon the one before. The first was deceptively simple—self-interest or the Federation. Choose the Federation and her life became simple. She reported everything he said or did and let the Federation decide. It wouldn’t matter whether there was a leak or a deliberate passage of information. She’d be covered and safe.

She’d also be missing the opportunity of a lifetime, and she sensed Jack would think less of her, and the latter had developed an importance she could no longer deny.

Self-interest opened a floodgate of problems. If they’d passed the information to Jack deliberately, it could be a loyalty check. The practice was common and she was new to the Diplomatic service. Reporting the matter would reassure her superiors and establish her in the hierarchy as a trustworthy plodder. If it was an undetected leak, it became an opportunity to fulfill her instructions quickly and efficiently, proving herself both capable and ambitious. This would make her superiors wary. She would become a threat to their positions.

Everything depended on Jack’s reasons for revealing his knowledge. Simple haste to fast track the negotiations and catch up with his schedule would be understandable, but uncharacteristic. Allowing her to destroy herself would not serve his purpose either. It made him her safety net. Her success was in his best interests.

This made his information the result of a leak and not deliberately supplied by the Federation. An answer to one of her questions…unless he was testing her.

“Gaining trust has been my biggest problem.” Jack’s words seemed too appropriate to be true. “It makes everybody wary of new things. I’ve had to limit progress to prove myself reliable. This fish farm would be in full production if it weren’t for that.” The aircraft came to a hover a thousand feet above the artificial harbor.

Rachael nodded. “I can see why it would be a problem. You only have to fail once to undo everything.”

“Precisely.” He nodded.

Rachael would have shaken her head if it weren’t for the chance he might misinterpret. He had the luck of the devil in saying the right thing at the right moment. She’d made up her mind. “I’ll do what I can to help, starting with these.” She raised the sheets. “They’ll go through as soon as we return.”

“Good.” A single word acknowledged her cooperation.

Nor did he mention it in the next hour while he displayed the successes in the thirty miles around the Treaty Port, characteristically attributing all of them to others. “They were just waiting for their opportunities. All I did was approve their plans and provide the funds from the Pontiff’s horde.”

The Federation had reluctantly released the funds held in the Pontiff’s name and there were rumors of a hidden stash of cash in the palace.

“Do you feel up to eating?”

Rachael considered the question. The oxygen had done wonders for her head and her stomach no longer revolted at the thought of food, but she wasn’t sure about eating.

“We have an invitation to a small ceremony on the island I ended my voyage.” Jack paused, and added the supplementary information only when he sensed her wavering. “They’re providing a light lunch.”

“How long will it take us to get there?” Her recovery continued. If she had a little more time, she might be well enough to eat.

“About thirty minutes.” He watched her decide.

“I think I might be safe by then.” She knew she sounded doubtful so she added a smile to reassure him.

“We’re on our way.”

The aircraft translated smoothly from hovering to forward flight, gaining height and speed as he applied power. He was the type of pilot where everything happened with a minimum of fuss.

“I read the story of your voyage,” she said. “It appears you left a lot unsaid. They’d added a commentary at Federation Headquarters, listing the reported weather conditions. You sailed through one of the worst storms recorded.”

“I had a good boat, as you’ll see shortly. The Pontiff’s men recovered it and the locals have turned it into a monument. I’m supposed to dedicate it today.” He looked embarrassed. “They want a speech as well.”

“Would they be offended if I said a few words in my official capacity? I would like to express the Federation’s esteem.” It was also her chance to establish a separate identity.

“I’m sure they’d be honored.” The slightest twitch of his right eyebrow added his thoughts.

She grinned. “I do have to earn my salary occasionally.”

“You will.” A touch of grimness evaded his smile. “There’s much to be done. It daunts me sometimes.”

“I could name a lot of people who would find it difficult to imagine you daunted by anything.” He was still capable of surprising her.

“It’s easy when it’s just you, or even a small group, whom you lead by informed consent. Most of the people on this planet will never meet me, yet their future, and the future of generations yet unborn, depend on me getting it right now.” He wasn’t asking for sympathy. He was defining his problem.

She felt tempted to say something trite, but opted for the truth. “You will have done your best, because you’re incapable of anything less.”

It earned her a sharp look. “You sound like my aunt. She always knows what to say too.” He turned back to flying the aircraft and neither of them spoke again.

The silence was comfortable, for Rachael sensed they’d passed a point in their relationship from which there was no return. He’d triggered it with the admission of his doubts and her empathy had sealed it. She would never again think of him as the spacer, or the president. From this moment onwards, he would always be Jack.

“I see a friend down there. We’ll go lower and you can have a look at her.” The aircraft had reached a narrow strait between two large islands and Jack slowed it, dropping lower until they hovered thirty feet above the surface.

His friend was very large. At least twenty feet from nose to tail, the shark glided unconcerned through a school of fish, two pilot fish keeping station at either side.

“She investigated the raft I was using to cross the strait,” Jack said. “Chomped off six foot and was distracted by a school of fish. Came back and circled for a while before she lost interest. For which, I was very grateful.”

She tried to imagine this supreme predator circling about, miles from the shore and failed. “You didn’t mention it in your story.”

Jack shook his head. “This is her territory. The tides bring her all the food she needs. I was the intruder.” He glanced at the dashboard clock. “We’d best be going. Punctuality is the politeness of Kings and Presidents.” His smile was wry.

The aircraft rose to cruising altitude and resumed its flight.

“There they are.” A pointing finger indicated a sheltered beach and a colorful crowd gathered beside the lighthouse guarding one headland. “They promised a clear area to land.”

The crowd spotted them, opening to reveal the white lines of a circle marked with a central cross. A flag rose on the lighthouse to indicate the wind direction.

“They remembered everything.” Jack sounded pleased, a parent endorsing the efforts of his children. “We’re landing.”

She noticed a touch of showmanship in the swooping approach and neat final descent, the flamboyance at odds with his normal flying, and therefore deliberate. She also suspected he short-circuited the shutdown procedure rather than keep his hosts waiting, in another departure from his professional pilot’s approach.

“After you, Madame Ambassador. The populace awaits.” The aircraft ramp had lowered itself and the rear door opened.

Rachel stepped out to a roar of approval, strengthened only slightly by Jack’s appearance. The crowd had recognized her instantly, calling her name to one another.

“You told them I was coming.” She stated the obvious.

“I didn’t know myself until this morning and the radio at the lighthouse is faulty. I’ve brought the spares to fix it.” Jack’s expression was a masterpiece of innocence.

“Then how did they recognize me?”

“You’ll understand shortly.”

“Mmm. I suspect one of your jokes.”

“At the time, it was deadly serious.” His mind had slipped back in time and it showed on his face until he broke the mood to smile at the approaching group as its leader opened his mouth to speak.

“Greetings, Mister President, Madame Ambassador. We’re so glad you could both make it. Our celebration wouldn’t be the same without both of you here to share it.”

Rachael smiled brightly at the man, suppressing the urge to question Jack with a look. They included her deliberately and she must respond gracefully.

“Please come this way and see what we’ve done.” A path formed in the crowd and Rachael allowed him to escort her toward a newly painted wooden building set on a rocky outcrop above the beach. “We put her where she could see the ocean.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.” Jack’s voice held exactly the right note. “It was her home.”

Understanding dawned for Rachael. They talked about the fishing boat Jack sailed to this island during his return to the Treaty Port. It didn’t explain how she was involved, but she now understood the female gender.

“It’s a great likeness.” Their host had turned to Rachael. “We all recognized you immediately.”

“Yes. I was surprised.” Rachael turned to him so she could see Jack’s face as well, hoping there’d be some assistance forthcoming. His studied innocence resigned her to waiting a little longer.

“Here we are.”

They’d reached the building and stood on the steps leading up to the main floor. Open at three sides, it held the boat mounted on wooden cradles with the mast raised and the sail hoisted. Clinker built with a transom stern, it was not new, nor had it been “prettied up.” She could see a half dozen like it moored off the beach, all working boats, battered by the sea and hard usage.

“She looks great.” Jack was serious. “I never thought I’d see her again.”

“We scoured the beaches and the sea until we recovered everything. The transom thwart identified her beyond argument.” The man’s nod denoted deep satisfaction.

“I suppose it would.” Jack nodded agreement. “I spent a lot of time sitting there.”

“You used it profitably.” The man turned to Rachael. “Come, Madame Ambassador. See for yourself.”

He guided her to the transom where two steps led up to a platform allowing her to look along the length and under the half-deck. “Step up and you’ll see why we had no trouble recognizing you.”

She followed his instructions and stood looking down at the wooden bench forming the seat across the square transom. One side was plain wood, the other a carved likeness of her face cut deep and polished smooth. It was instantly recognizable as the original of the carvings she’d seen yesterday.

She turned and caught the half-embarrassed smile on Jack’s face. “I had a lot of time on my hands,” he said. “It helped keep me sane.”

“It is also the most sincere compliment I’ve ever received.” She did not attempt to dissemble. “Thank you. I will remember this always.”

Wisdom, common sense, and discretion fled. She would have this man as her lover, no matter what stood in the way. Rachael felt a renewing energy pouring through her veins like fire, igniting the debris of her hangover and transforming it into power. She had the sense of being taller, standing head and shoulders above the rest. It was intoxicating in a way alcohol could never be.

Jack must have sensed the transformation, or something, for he watched her intently, the slightest of smiles curving his lips. “Hangover gone?”

“Yes. I’m ready for anything.” The secret meaning amused her.

“Perhaps I’d better arrange a chaperone for the trip home. You have a dangerous glint in your eyes.”

“There’s no room for three,” she challenged him.

“I could always send you back by boat. It wouldn’t take more than a week.” He was enjoying it.

Their host chuckled. “It does me good to hear young lovers tease. Takes me back. Makes me remember when my wife and I were young. It was a good feeling.”

The compassion in Jack’s eyes made Rachael want to weep. He’d heard something in the man’s voice. “When did she die?”

“Ten years ago…tomorrow. A fever came through the village and we had no healer.” The man shrugged. “I lost my son as well.” He looked down, remembering. “The Pontiff blamed the Federation, said their quarantine was too lax. He always blamed someone else.” He shrugged again. “It sometimes feels like yesterday.”

Rachael acted instinctively when she hugged him. There was no thought, no calculation, just a need to give comfort. “She was very lucky to have a man like you.”

“The luck was mine, but thank you for the thought.” He returned her embrace until her arms loosened and then stepped back. “We’d best get on with the speeches. The others are getting hungry.”

The ceremony was simple. A recital of Jack’s voyage and Rachael’s role in distracting the Pontiff in the lead up to the coup, the distance the boat covered without detection and how it came to this final resting place. Jack’s reply concentrated on the future and Rachael added her personal pledge to expedite the reforms he proposed. The crowd cheered at the end, but the lunch table had more of their attention than the ceremonies.

Rachael ate well, sampling local dishes, chatting with local dignitaries and their wives, fending off the local Lotharios without giving offense, exercising the stock in trade of all diplomats. Chance occasionally put her alongside Jack, but they had time to do no more than exchange glances. She felt pleased when he reminded their host of the restrictions on night flying over the Treaty Port since they relocated the portal.

“We need to leave soon.” He sounded genuinely regretful. “Once we’ve established a proper airport, it will be different.”

They took off half an hour later, flying south as the sun touched the western horizon and landing with the last of the light. Rachael used the time to plan her assault. Jack would be aware how unwise becoming sexually involved was in their present positions. She would have to find a way of convincing him.

The dying whine of the gas turbines and the click of the final switch plunged the cockpit into darkness, but Jack made no move to leave. “You have something on your mind,” he said. “This is about as private as we can get. There are no listening devices and the polarization of the canopy hides us from the outside.” Her silence on the return flight had warned him something was amiss and his reaction was characteristically direct. Damn, she thought. Words won’t persuade him now.

She released her seat belt, rose to stand in the space between the seats, and leaned over to kiss him on the lips, pouring everything she had into a convincing argument. He cooperated fully and she found herself in his lap, the seat sliding back to give her room. It did more, reclining to become a bed. Designed for planetary exploration, the aircraft had its sleeping quarters in the adaptable seats.

It was awkward and uncomfortable, but she didn’t care. Her need was too desperate. She kissed as if there were no tomorrow, fumbled at the fastenings of his clothes and tried to force herself into the same space he occupied. Jack cooperated more calmly, facilitating rather than leading and this heightened Rachael’s desperation. She must ignite his passion or fail.

They’d embarked on madness, nothing less would justify it.

* * * *

“She’s right.” Jack would have spoken aloud if Rachael’s lips weren’t in the way. “It is madness. She doesn’t understand how much.”

A year of full use had sharpened his senses. Only one other full telepath lived on this planet and they communicated freely now that the Pontiff had left. Anneke, Peter, Dael, and his parents dropped in frequently, usually not materializing, sharing his memories, and giving valuable advice and comfort, each visit sharpening facilities dulled by years of undercover work. He’d followed Rachael’s thoughts so effortlessly since she arrived; he’d even mixed them with their other forms of communication and had to cover his slips. He was more careful now, but his feelings made it easier to forget.

Anneke had warned him. “Fall in love with a commoner and it becomes very difficult. Their thoughts become so much part of yours that you forget it’s only one-way. Your father was lucky. Gabrielle was a latent telepath and needed only exposure to develop. Try to change a commoner without a latent ability and it will destroy them. They’re not ready for it. Most of them would be insane within days. We have to wait until the race develops further.” He had to respect her advice. Jack had been away when Jesse died, but he still remembered her grief and how guilty she’d been about its secret element of relief.

“He’s not responding.” The wail of despair in Rachael’s mind brought him back to the present and he reassured her with action, carrying them closer to the point of no return while part of his mind searched for an answer. He could delay consummation only so long and his body began to respond mindlessly. Soon it would take charge and his reluctance to allow her to be hurt would commit them.

“I love him so much.” Rachael’s mind was clear.

Jack acknowledged the truth in her thought. Somewhere along the way, she’d fallen in love and he suspected it would become mutual all too easily. There was no more severe a test of character than how a person responded to a hangover and Rachael had passed it with flying colors. No recriminations, no vain promises, just acceptance, and stoic endurance until relief came with the oxygen. Even then, she’d blamed no one but herself for the lapse.

She would be very easy to love.

* * * *

Rachael sensed him take charge, moving from unconvincing participant to leader, and exulted in her victory.

He was hers irrevocably.

The feeling was so strong it didn’t occur to her to question it. She sensed his commitment as surely as if he’d spoken it aloud. Her surety might have puzzled her, if so many other sensations hadn’t crowded it out of her mind.

Jack was the lover she’d dreamed, so intimately attuned, it was as if he was in her mind, feeling exactly what she felt, knowing her every need and meeting it perfectly. She soared beyond her previous bounds. Reaching for the heavens as he triggered responses she’d never known existed and she rode the whirlwind into the sky. The first climax preceded a series, each one following the other until she was no longer sure it wasn’t continuous. When exhaustion claimed her, she sank onto his chest, too spent to do more.

She could feel him ready within her, waiting patiently for her recovery, and wondered at his self-control, a little jealous and vaguely disappointed the experience had not been so climatic for him.

A rumble of suppressed laughter transmitted itself from his chest to hers and she managed to find the strength to lift her upper body so she could see his face.

“What’s so funny?”

“I just feel good. It’s been a long time.”

“Not long enough by the feel of things.” She moved on the flesh impaling her body, triggering sensations she’d thought sated and gnawing her lower lip at how close to pain ecstasy could be.

“If you insist.” He guided her through the difficulties of changing places on the narrow bed formed by the fully reclined pilot’s seat, managing it without breaking the conjunction of their flesh and bringing her to full readiness in the process.

This time he tapped the darker side of her sexuality, holding her prisoner with guile rather than physical restraints, awakening an untapped source of pleasure and reinforcing her need with ecstasy. This man was the devil incarnate, delving into her secret thoughts and turning them real.

Rachael exploded, shattering into a million shards and scattered to an unfeeling universe that flung them back, coalescing into herself just in time to ride the convulsion of his release into paradise again.