“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.
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.”
The Alliance Page 17
