by Amy Gallow
"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 being 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 familiar 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 were the areas she'd been instructed to pursue, complete with the maximum concession she was permitted to make. In the second were 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 leant 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 had come early, a lesson from a mission never intended to succeed, but serving a 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 she was touched by 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 pre-flighted 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 was 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 would be covered and safe.
She would 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 the information was passed 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 had come 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 vigorously.
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, no more, 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 was continuing. If she had a little more time, she might be well enough to eat.
"About thirty minutes.” He was wat
ching 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 own 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 was 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 to a hover, dropping lower until they were 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 being circled by this supreme predator, 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."
They were spotted, for the crowd opened 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."
There was 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 was open.
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."
"M-m-m. 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, 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 were including 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 herself to be escorted towards 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 were talking about the fishing boat Jack sailed to this island during his return to the Treaty Port. It mightn'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 were standing 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, 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 was watching 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 was challenging 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. They were cheered at the end, but the lunch table had more of the crowd's attention than they did.
Rachael ate well, sampling local dishes, chatting with local dignitaries and their wives, fending off the local Lotharios without giving offence, 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 was pleased when he reminded their host of the restrictions on night flying over the Treaty Port since the portal was relocated.
