“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.
Chapter Twelve
Jack walked back from the Federation compound deep in thought. He’d coaxed an unwilling Rachael to leave the ship only by the need to conceal their relationship from the
Federation for a little longer. She’d agreed with a flattering reluctance, extracting promises he’d find hard to keep. Fortunately, he knew these were her way of punishing him for being right. Dael’s gentle healing was at work.
His grandmother had used Rachael’s intoxication the first night to enter her mind and tease free the linkage of certain memories, an exorcism of their destructive power, to liberate Rachael’s natural recuperative powers. It was no instant cure. Rachael would never consciously recognize the change, but now she could heal herself.
Dael had been pleased. He’d felt her secret smile when she’d left him to carry a drunken Rachael back to the compound last night. “You can look after her now.” Her tone had hovered close to outright laughter. “She’ll be more of a handful than you expect.” Having lived with Peter for so long, Dael’s humor was sometimes a little offbeat.
Jack dismissed the matter. He’d embarked on a course of madness when he’d responded to Rachael. He must recast every plan he’d made. He entered the flyer and started the coffee percolator. He felt tired and needed what stimulus he could get.
“Make one for me.” Anneke materialized at his side and switched to normal speech. “I’m worried about Peter.”
“That’s a change.” Jack’s tone sounded dry. Anneke’s stubbornness had created more impossible situations than any other member of the Alliance.
“I’m serious.” She brushed aside his levity. “He keeps slipping away to spend time in his own world.”
Jack felt happy to divert from his own problem, which he suspected time would solve anyway, and poured his aunt a cup of coffee, over-sweetened as she liked it. “He has no personal timeline there now, so there’s no reason he shouldn’t. He can sandwich as much time as he likes between our seconds.” He handed her the coffee. “What’s the problem?”
Anneke took a sip from the anodized mug, grimacing at the bite of the freshly boiled coffee. “I don’t know. He’s quieter than usual and it sometimes feels as if he’s taken a step away from the rest of us.”
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