by Jean Johnson
(Saints, but I feel awful when we’re not touching,) he muttered.
(Like we’re going to pass out,) Jackie agreed. (I’ve never done anything like this . . . If this happened the last time one of us teleported—when you teleported to me during that robot attack—then I didn’t notice it.)
(The distance . . . how in the name of physics did you get here?) he demanded. The others could ask, but only he had a right to demand.
Physically, she was exhausted, but mentally, she still felt supercharged. When they touched, and only when they touched. Her left hand curled around his, clasping tightly, the way her mind curled around their spacecraft, allowing her a chance to give his question some serious thought. About half a second’s worth in real time. (My best guess? I was pulled to you by sheer mortal peril, and the energy of the hysterical terror that comes with it, focused through our bond. Plus, the whole argument for our neurons being entangled on a quantum level suggests we’re anchored to each other. I simply exchanged my previous location for this one on the farthest leading edge of the probability curve.)
(That’s a leading edge that— Look out!) he yelped, seeing a bright yellow beam slicing their way, coming from a tiny dot of a ship soaring past at an angle to them.
She flexed her mental muscles, warping space around their vessel. Nakko, the man piloting the ship, yelped in fear from the sight of the stars, ships, and even the curve of the planet spinning abruptly into a half-blurred swirl.
“. . . The shit?” the woman breathed, craning her neck off to the side. The stars outside realigned themselves. “That . . . that laser bent?”
“Yes, and I can only do that a few more times, and only if I see it coming. That was a lot of photons,” Jackie added, closing her eyes. She was tired, there were ships firing weapons all around them, and she was literally light-years from . . . well, her previous location. V’Dan wasn’t here; she was dead certain of that. It also wasn’t home. For a moment, she longed deeply for home, for the shores of O’ahu, the white-curling waves and dozens of shades of water, from cerulean to sapphire blue, the plants and buildings and sandy beaches . . .
She remained on board the shuttlecraft, however. Miraculous relocation aside, she was not a teleporter. She didn’t even understand how she had gotten here, save that it had been eighty-eight parts instinct, eleven parts luck, and one part a strange impression of a supershortened hyperrift, of all things. Why, for once, was the easy part. Why was observation and logical reasoning. How . . . was still beyond even the best Terran understanding of how psychic abilities worked.
“Okay, meioa . . . where do you want us to go?” Nakko asked. “Because we’re almost to the edge of the fighting. We can go to the colonyworld, but that cuts across a nasty patch of it; we can go to one of those three big warships over there to try to dock or at least get behind them for protection, but they’ve got trouble headed their way; or we can head out of the fighting and take a leisurely loop out and around, coming back when it’s hopefully over . . . and be a tempting little target for anything tracking us, if they have unoccupied gun crews on that side of their ships.”
Jackie and Li’eth thought about it in a swirl of subthoughts, and announced as one, “. . . Colonyworld.”
“V’Ton-Bei is inhabitable,” Li’eth added on his own. “If we get damaged, we can have a hope of surviving a forced landing even if we’re undamaged right now.”
“Oh, we are damaged. Those lovely red lights up there,” their pilot said, waving his hand up over his head at a bank of half a dozen red, a double handful of yellow, and a sea of green, “are showing that all but one of the forward shields got burned out by the explosion that . . . uh . . . materialized our guest. Which is still far too aberrant for me to even think about how she got here—we’re not going to get arrested for kidnapping you, are we?”
“No, you won’t. The only one I’d like to see arrested for kidnapping is a certain stubborn Imperial sibling,” Jackie muttered. “Then all of this wouldn’t have been necessary.”
“Yes, yes, about the vote to go to the colonyworld,” the woman interrupted. “If you haven’t noticed, it’s through the worst of the fight!”
“Aim to the upper or lower right,” Jackie offered. That was what was displayed on the right-hand viewscreen; she’d stared at enough V’Dan tactical screens in the last few months to figure that much out. “That direction skirts it. Go out a little and come around toward the back side of the planet. Just hug it close enough that we have some shielding on that side. If you don’t take forever, I should have enough energy to keep the ship shielded from physical attacks, but the less I have to do, the better.
“Laser-based ones . . . you’re going to have a narrow field of view if you want that risk abated, too,” she warned the two in the front of the cockpit. “I can either shunt aside an incoming beam, which is exhausting, or I can use a lot less energy to cloak the shuttle, making it extremely hard to hit.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if it’ll save our skins, do it,” the pilot ordered. “This isn’t a warship. One direct hit, and we’ll be cut in half.”
Nodding, Jackie spun a cocoon of holokinesis around the ship. It wasn’t a perfect sphere, but rather more like a bowl. Dead ahead, they could see the stars clearly; to either side, the view became a literal blur of gray-smeared stars and blue-white-brown planetary hues on ribbons of black. Unfortunately, that caused the tac screen to start popping up little error labels all around their flanks.
“That is a very strange effect. What is it?” the man added.
“Holokinesis, which is from an ancient Terran language meaning light-movement, as in the ability to move and manipulate light. I create illusions with my holy gifts, among other things. I cannot stop a laser, but I can redirect it along a different path as if my powers were a mirror. In this case, a spinning mirror, which uses far less energy than a static one,” she explained.
He shook his head, his braid sliding over his red-uniformed shoulders. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“I may be moving nearly massless light—photonic wave packets—but the principles are still the same. A spinning surface deflects an incoming impact by hitting it from the side rather than meeting it head-on. I’m not reflecting the lasers straight back to their point of origin,” she added. “I’m deflecting them to the right or to the left, depending upon the spin. In other words, it doesn’t take nearly as much energy to make a small course correction to one side as it does to make all that energy do an about-face in a head-on confrontation.”
“Okay, that makes sense. I’m Shi’uln,” he added. “Leftenant Nakko Shi’uln. Third Tier, in the civilian sector. That’s Leftenant Superior A’sha-rayn Ka’atieth, born to the Fourth.”
“Terrans don’t believe in Tiers,” Li’eth told them. “Jackie, these are Nakko and A’sha. Nakko, A’sha, this is Jackie. We’ve already decided titles are overblown when we don’t have to be formal.”
“Sounds perfect. And it’s nice to meet you,” Jackie added.
The leftenant superior snorted. “You think it’s nice to meet us? We were nearly killed, you were pulled from a live broadcast— U’v’shakk!” she swore, twisting in her seat to gape at the two in the back of the cockpit. “That was a live broadcast! Everyone saw you vanish! They’re going to be frantic, trying to figure out where you went.”
“The Terrans, not so much as you might think . . . once they calm down and think about it rationally,” Jackie amended, forced to be honest by her nature. “I’m sure they panicked for the first few moments, as anyone sane would do. The V’Dan are going to be in a true panic, though. Particularly with our return to an alliance still so new, it’s shaky. I’ll need to access the Ton-Bei communications probe.”
“Jackie, we can’t announce your presence while the Salik are in the system. They’ll pick up any lightwave broadcast and decode it within moments,” Li’eth countere
d.
“Not if we go to the satellite and access it . . . directly . . . which . . . we can’t do, because I don’t have any Terran communications equipment.” She sighed, conceding his point. Clinging to his fingers, she focused her thoughts on finding a way around that problem.
“There are two Terran ships in the system, though,” A’sha said. “We debated taking His Highness home to V’Dan by way of a Terran ship. Even without a treaty, he was fairly sure your people would agree to help on your behalf . . . except he’s turned himself over to the Tier Advocates, and the system Advocates say he has to go home via a V’Dan ship.
“But with you here, you can shorten up that route with some diplomacy.” She called up something on her main screen, but it was a mess of lines and names, several in V’Dan red, and too much in Salik purple. Scowling, she sighed. “. . . Well, they were here. I don’t know if they still are.”
Something impacted against the bubble-shield wrapped around the ship. Jackie grunted, while the view outside the front windows turned a billowing greenish blue from the heat of whatever chemical mix had been in the bomb, combined with the shifting spin of her holokinesis. She felt Li’eth bolstering her, feeding her his strength. He could tap into her own abilities somewhat, but not to this extent, and freely conceded the flow of kinetic inergy to her, the master in training and skill.
“Was that a random attack, or are we being followed?” Nakko asked, swerving the shuttle to take evasive action. “I think the green fire is from their fighter ships’ explosives.”
“I believe it is, but I can’t see through the blurring-thing out there to confirm,” A’sha answered.
“Well, I’m not canceling it until we’re out of the hot zone,” Jackie told both of them. Her head started to throb. “How much longer?”
“To get out of danger or all the way to land?” Nakko asked. The shuttle jolted, and flames roared past them. Everyone yelped but Jackie; she clenched down with her mind and clung with her fingers. None of the telltale lights for the shuttle flickered, but chunks of metal were flung past their viewpoint, visible only because their edges were bright-hot as they tumbled past.
“I . . . don’t think we’re being chased anymore,” Li’eth muttered, slowly relaxing his shoulders when nothing else happened. “I hope.”
“Yes, let us hope that was a pursuing fighter being destroyed by one of our meioas,” A’sha agreed.
Jackie, thoughts racing, came to an abrupt conclusion. Blinking a little, she asked, “Can you project a comm signal on . . . uh . . . the Ar-tuin wavelength 7534?”
“I’m a bit too busy flying to fiddle with the wavelength tuners,” Nakko replied, dodging their craft yet again, half his attention on the forward view, half on the tactical screen below it showing the battle to their rear. “A’sha?”
“I’ll get it,” she said. She worked for a few moments, fitting an earpiece in place, murmuring to herself, then nodded. “What do you need to broadcast, and why on that channel? Most are tuned by lots of ten in the Alliance.”
“Because that’s a channel that corresponds with one of our Terran wavelengths. Put it on a broadbeam, and hand me the microphone,” Jackie told her. She stretched forward with her free hand, touching the red-uniformed woman on her shoulder. “I’m going to send a message to any Terrans in the system. It’s important to let my people know I’m still alive.”
“Jackie, I told you, you can’t do that,” Li’eth reminded her, squeezing her fingers. “You send out any sort of a signal, and the Salik will know you’re here! I am quite certain they attacked the Winter Palace specifically in the hope of destroying your people, and with it, any chance you would help us against them.”
That made her roll her eyes. “Yes, it would, if I spoke in V’Dan. But not if I spoke in Terranglo.”
“. . . Oh. Right. Saints, I feel stupid,” he added under his breath, wincing.
“Don’t,” the leftenant superior told him. She handed Jackie the earpiece with its little wire of a microphone. “I feel stupid about not considering that, too, so you’re not alone. We were briefed at least twice, maybe three times over the last few months on the possibility of Terranglo being used as an unbreakable security code, and even I was thinking she’d be speaking in V’Dan—you’ll be live in five . . . four . . . three . . .”
Pausing a couple beats after the count reached zero, Jackie switched to Terranglo and spoke. “This is Grand High Ambassador Jacaranda MacKenzie, authorization Alpha Juliett Mike, to all Terran ships in the Ton-Bei System. I need you to open a channel to V’Dan and get a message to Captain Hamza al-Fulan. The message is this: Yellow Echo Sierra, India, Alpha Mike, Oscar Kilo. My location is the Ton-Bei System.
“I repeat, this is Grand High Ambassador Jacaranda MacKenzie with a message for Captain Hamza al-Fulan based on the V’Dan homeworld. The message is Yellow Echo Sierra, India, Alpha Mike, Oscar Kilo; my location is V’Ton-Bei. Please send it via hypercomm immediately to Captain Hamza al-Fulan on V’Dan, over.”
Three seconds later, A’sha pointed at a light on her console, and touched a couple buttons. “Whatever you’re saying, you’re getting a response on the same frequency. But it could be anyone, even the Salik. Do you want to hear it?”
“Yes, please,” Jackie confirmed.
The comm system had a cache with a buffer. The audio response replayed from the beginning with just a few more button touches. “This is Captain Sharon Mamani of the TUPSF Embassy 14. Ambassador, if this is really you, sir, and you really are in the Ton-Bei System, you vanished from the commscreen less than five minutes ago. How the hell did you get out here so fast?”
“The Gestalt bond was in severe danger, prompting a spontaneous teleport,” she replied, and felt Li’eth squeezing her hand in silent support. Even with his psychic inergy augmenting hers, she could feel the dizziness returning. “We’re both close to a KI burnout because of it, and I do not know what the severity of the backlash will be. We are on board a shuttlecraft, headed for the planet to find refuge from the battle. But since I don’t want anyone back on V’Dan to have a panic attack at my sudden absence . . .”
“Understood, sir. We’ll get the message sent. I will need today’s authorization code, however, and a visual confirmation would be preferred.”
(Dammit . . . what is it, what is the code for this week . . .?) She dredged her tired mind for the answer.
(I’ll give you more, but I feel like I’m going to collapse again,) Li’eth warned her.
(I know. We both are. How well do you trust these two?) she asked. (Because right now, I am still feeling rather paranoid about how your fellow V’Dan are going to treat you and me.)
(These two, I’d trust,) Li’eth told her. (A’sha-rayn stood up to her captain, who was trying to get me back under sedation despite my legal maneuverings otherwise. Nakko’s on her side. He brought me clothes and helped me in the shower when I would’ve been stuck in a hospital tunic otherwise.)
(That makes me glad.) Switching back to V’Dan, she said, “Can you connect me visually, Ka’atieth?”
“I’ll need a few moments to find the portable camera and get it up and running,” the leftenant superior said, already reaching for a storage compartment. “There should be one on this thing, if nothing else than to check the nooks and crannies in the hold . . .”
The shuttle rocked again, another flare of greenish fire gouting out to the port side, blurred by the still-spinning telekinetic shields. Nakko looked up and wrinkled his nose. “That one got some damage through. It must’ve been a larger payload.”
“More like my strength is waning,” Jackie muttered.
“Get us to that planet,” Li’eth ordered. “Get us inside its defenses and behind some cover.”
“Yes, meioa. I am working on it,” Nakko muttered. “It’s my marked hide, too, you know . . .”
“Found it!” A few moments later the hoverc
am was active and humming in front of Jackie’s face. “It’ll be a close-up. Hope your face isn’t pimpled.”
“Leftenant Superior!” Li’eth snapped, scowling. “You do not treat a Grand High Ambassador like a juvenile!”
“What? No!” the other woman protested, twisting to look at him, then Jackie, with wide eyes. “Adults can have acne, too, you know! My eldest brother’s face still looks like a juzul, with all the little red dots across it, and he’s in his forties—a juzul is a kind of tropical fruit,” she added to Jackie, though she faced forward again. “It looks diseased when it’s ripe. I am not one of those who underestimates someone just because they look young. Or disrespects them. I can understand why you’d think that, but I am not. I’m just . . . thinking of postjungen acne, is all.
“. . . You’ll be live in five seconds,” she added, still frowning.
Jackie squeezed Li’eth’s hand. (Thanks for the support, even if it thankfully isn’t needed.) A tiny light snapped to life on the camera—technology was ubiquitous in showing when things were active, it seemed—and she spoke into it, switching to Mandarin, not Terranglo. “Today’s full authorization code should be the Year of the Rabbit. The energy is Yin, and the element is Metal. The month is the Monkey, and the solar phase should be lìqiū. Don’t ask me what the double hour is back home. My wrist unit is still synched to V’Dan time at the moment.”
Jackie couldn’t see the corresponding shuttle screen completely, between the seatback in front of her and the hovering camera between her and the monitor screen, but it was definitely Captain Mamani on the other side; her brown skin and sleek black hair were hallmarks of her Aymara ancestry, different from the rounder faces and curlier locks of Jackie’s own Polynesian ancestors. Then again, the Aymara were found thousands of kilometers across the ocean among the snowcapped mountains of the Andes, with a thousand and more years of colonization differences between them.
“Xiè xie,” the captain replied, peering at Jackie’s face through her end of the connection. “It is good to see you are alive and well. For the record, the Terran Universal Mean Time is in the second half of the double hour of the Pig; it’s officially almost tomorrow. I will get your message sent right out. Will you be needing a relay set up?”
