Contact

by Susan Grant

  Jordan dipped her head as she passed them so that her hood covered her face. But the men saw her, recognized her. They had to. Why else would they be watching like a pack of jackals, their eyes glittering with speculation, making her feel as if she were an exotic and expensive item for sale?

  Maybe it was genetics at work. Eons of slave ownership made them appear that way. But if not, then something else was at work on this immense starship, and it was time to get worried.

  “The refugees are to be settled in the Rim?” Kào thrust his hands in the air. “Why, there’s nothing there.”

  “There will be, my boy,” Moray said. “The Alliance plans a mass transfer of population to the Rim with military support. As it stands now, with a sparse population, it remains vulnerable to settlement by fugitives of the Talagar Empire.”

  The Talagars—or what was left of them—were on the run. Settling and fortifying the Rim would keep them from gaining a foothold in an isolated area and rebuilding their empire. The strategy made sense. But the idea of the refugees, of Jordan, as experimental and possibly expendable colonists in the most desolate area of the galaxy pricked every protective instinct he had. “Why wasn’t I told of these plans?”

  “I have only today received the orders.”

  Kào put down his utensil. He’d lost his appetite. “It infuriates me that the Alliance would make such a decision about a band of homeless people. It borders on inhumane.” His fist balled on the tabletop. He dared not say more, as he didn’t trust his temper to remain in check.

  “These are unstable times, Kào. Unstable times require bold measures.”

  “I understand. But why these people?” Why Jordan?

  “I wondered that myself. Clearly, it was our proximity to the Perimeter that drove the decision. And that the refugees have no home and are in need of being resettled.”

  Kào couldn’t argue the need for the measures the Alliance had taken. Nor could he refuse to participate in the mission, for he’d vowed to help strengthen his father’s name, and that meant ensuring that the refugees got to the Rim in the name of galactic peace.

  Go with her.

  How? By blood and patriotism, he was morally obligated to help his father carry out his orders. His personal feelings on the refugees’ unwitting role in the plan had little bearing.

  His gut clenched. Hated images flashed behind his eyes: the tall fence in his dreams over which he could never jump; his treatment at the hands of the Talagars, drug-induced confessions that spilled from him at their whim. In neither situation had he the ability to exert control over his destiny. It was no different now.

  A call came in on Kào’s comm. He opened his wrist computer and read the message that flashed there. “Security, sir,” said the man in the tiny screen.

  “Go,” Kào prompted him.

  “There’s been a breach in the refugee area. Two of them left without clearance. We tracked them to the shuttle. They de-boarded on the central axis, Level One, where they headed toward the officers’ living area.” The man frowned. “But then they very rapidly descended in a vertical transport to Sublevel Five. We lost them.”

  “Sublevel Five. That’s the cargo bay.” Where their aircraft was stored.

  “Yes, sir. But they’re not there. We sent a team down and came up with nothing.”

  “I’m on my way.” Kào closed the comm. He draped his hand cloth over his unfinished meal and pushed away from the table. “I’ve got refugees on the loose.”

  “Find them,” Moray said.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll report back when I do.”

  Trist had ordered the drinks because of the trouble Jordan and Ben had reading the menu. Zakuu it was called. Colorless and carbonated, the liquid filled three glittering flutes that were a foot tall and only about a half-inch in diameter.

  Trist was totally at ease, while Jordan sat tensely. Her goal tonight was to find Kào and see what she could find out about Earth’s destruction . . . or lack thereof. But worry made it tough to sit still. Her eyes kept flicking back and forth between the Talagarian men, Trist, and the main entrance to the bar. She liked it better when she and Ben had been proactive, hunting for Kào rather than sitting, waiting for him to come to them.

  “Try the drink,” Trist said. She took a delicate sip. Jordan and Ben barely touched their lips to the tart beverage. Trist folded her slender arms on the table and leaned forward. “You are nervous, yes?”

  “We have a lot on our minds.”

  “I can see why. You have developed some interesting extracurricular activities.”

  Had Trist somehow found out about her trip to the holo-arena with Kào? She’d die if their kiss was common knowledge. But she gathered her wits and replied with equal aplomb. “And which extracurricular activities might those be?”

  Trist’s fingertip rapped her data-input panel. “Your spying.”

  “Spying?” Jordan threw a startled glance in Ben’s direction.

  “Well, snooping,” Trist hedged. “I think that is your word for the lesser form of spying. Spying on the computer.”

  She meant hacking—Dillon’s hacking. Her heart in her mouth, Jordan tried to get a fix on Trist’s purpose. But she didn’t sense animosity or anger. Nothing in the woman’s body language indicated that she was tense, while she and Ben were wound up tight enough to shatter. “The computer was given to us. We’re using the educational program to educate ourselves.”

  “I did not know the ship’s maintenance files were part of the program.”

  Ben looked as if he were going to faint. Jordan worked at keeping her panic from appearing in her face. So far, all Dillon had gotten her were the maps, which had served her well tonight. But the goal was to find out their current location in space with respect to Earth, so they could find their way back home, if they had to. If survivors remained. Don’t lose heart, not yet. Keep quiet and hear out what she has to say.

  Trist appeared mildly surprised when Jordan didn’t offer a defense. She glanced around to see if anyone was listening in. Then she checked her wrist computer and belt comm, as if to make sure they were turned off, and her voice dipped to a private tone. “I created your education database. I know how you found your access and what you look at, because you used my files and codes.”

  Once more Trist glanced at the bar’s entrance, as if she expected someone to arrive at any minute. Jordan prayed it wasn’t the ship’s security team, and that spying wasn’t punishable by death.

  “Relax.” Trist spread her hands on the table. She wore tiny silver bands on all her fingers. “I have known what you see and do for a long time. I not worry. You stumble onto those records while using the education program, yes? You did not do on purpose.”

  Jordan took the hint. “That’s right.”

  Trist shook a finger at them. “Bad refugees,” she scolded with a hint of dark humor. “Always causing trouble. I will have to keep watch for now on. As if I do not have enough to do. In fact I have so much to do”—her sly red eyes shifted from Ben to Jordan and back again—“I will not notice if your snooping continues.”

  “You’re not going to stop us?” Jordan couldn’t help asking. “Why? Why help us?”

  “Not help. A favor.” Her smile epitomized the word inscrutable. “I do you a favor, then someday you do one for me, yes?”

  “What can we possibly give you? Or do for you? We have nothing.”

  Trist’s red eyes glinted. “You have more than you know, Jordan.”

  Jordan sagged in her chair, her thoughts spinning. What had just transpired here? Trist told them that she’d look the other way with regard to their hacking, and Jordan had agreed to the terms—a favor for a favor; a future one, but what? She was just beginning to wonder if she’d sold her soul to the devil when the devil himself stormed into The Black Hole.

  Kào was out of uniform. Long-sleeved, his dark blue shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and reached to his waist. If he raised his arms over his head, she suspected he’d exp
ose his navel and some nice abs. The pants fit snug, making it easier to imagine the long, lean legs underneath.

  It took him a moment to search the crowd, but when his eyes met Jordan’s, he pushed his way through. When he saw that she shared a table with Trist, astonishment and disapproval hardened his cold features.

  “Security,” he said into his comm as he walked up to their table. “Call off the search. Targets found.” Then he lowered his comm and narrowed his eyes at Trist. “You called me on my private channel.”

  “Yes. Otherwise the entire security squad would have stormed over here,” the linguist explained glibly. “I suspected you wanted to find them first.”

  “I did. But I didn’t expect to do it here.”

  Jordan couldn’t tell if he was angry or hurt. Or both. “You look . . . different,” she said. Different? Lame, really lame, Jordan. Blame it on sleep deprivation and her lack of fluency in Key.

  He smoothed one wide hand over what Jordan decided looked like dark blue hi-tech, up-scale sweats. “It is not my usual attire,” he admitted in a curt tone. He glared at Ben, who looked as if he wanted to sink into the floor, and then at Jordan. “Perhaps we should start with the simplest question first. What are you doing here?”

  “Easy question? I have easy answer,” she retorted in his language, crossing her arms over her chest. “I was waiting for you.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “You were waiting for me?” Kào wouldn’t have conjured this scene in a thousand standard years: Trist sharing a table with Jordan and her second-in-command . . . in The Black Hole.

  “Yes,” Jordan replied in accented Key. “Trist tell us you come here.”

  “Trist,” he growled warningly. A waitress glided up to the table to take his order.

  “Sit down, Kào,” Trist said.

  Everyone stared at him expectantly. He exhaled and sat down. “Water,” he said. The waitress shrugged disapprovingly and walked off.

  He folded his arms across his chest. He noticed that Jordan hadn’t fished out her translator. It meant that Trist must have been speaking in English. He envied the linguist her skill, for he found the translators bothersome but necessary.

  Jordan cleared her throat. “I need to talk to you, Kào.”

  At the sound of his name on her lips, his chest felt strangely tight. The unaccountably intimate tone of her voice made him think of moonlight and kisses. “It wasn’t necessary to go to these lengths to do it,” he snapped. “It could have waited until the morning.”

  She appeared stung by his terse manner. He shouldn’t take out on her what he’d learned from his father, but he wasn’t the even-tempered, logical man he once was, it seemed. She fumbled for her translator and dug it out. “Sorry, but what I have to say I can’t yet in Key.” She took a deep breath. “When I first came on this ship, you offered me the chance to watch a recording of my planet’s destruction. I didn’t want to then. I don’t want to now. But I have to. Tonight.” Her voice shook, and her partner stared at his hands.

  Kào couldn’t fathom why they’d want to view the holo-recording when their discomfort at the idea was so obvious.

  Trist watched the unfolding scene, her red-eyed gaze speculative.

  Jordan focused on Kào. “You told us that the entire population of Earth was wiped out. Gone. But what if there was an error in your assumption? What if your readings of that comet were faulty? What if it didn’t happen at all? All we have to go on is what the commodore told us.”

  “Do you think he lied to you?”

  “I don’t know. Would he?”

  Kào read the translation. It was not an error; her insinuation was just as appalling the second time around. “You’re new to the Alliance, new to its heroes. You don’t understand who Moray is.” It was difficult to imagine anyone not knowing. But her world had been an isolated one, well outside the confines of civilized space, an unusual circumstance in its own right. “This ship, the Savior, is named for him and his heroic efforts. The commodore is a great humanitarian. It’s an insult to imply otherwise.”

  Ben shifted in his seat, his jaw muscles flexing. Jordan, wan and silent, observed him uneasily.

  “You see, the commodore is a man of integrity. Of honor and courage.” He did not pull his gaze from Jordan’s. “He is also my father.”

  She made a sound of surprise. Or was it dismay? “He’s your father? The commodore?”

  “Yes. But his deeds transcend any relationship we might share. The evacuation of the Ceris Six space colony, for instance. It happened years ago, but it remains the event most associated with the Moray name. As fate would have it, he was nearby on patrol when the Ceris distress call went out. Of the thirty thousand inhabitants, more than half were lost in a massive explosion. But he coordinated the rescue of the rest, on his ship, and on others. He was credited with saving twelve thousand lives. Twelve thousand! I believe that powers beyond our comprehension see his strength and generosity and place him where he’s needed. Like it was with your Earth, Jordan.”

  “There’s no denying that he’s a hero, Kào.” Her expression made it clear that she was still recovering from the bombshell of Moray being his father. But her words proved her desire to find out what had happened to her world. “Still, if there’s a chance Earth wasn’t completely destroyed, we want to go back to rescue survivors. I have to see it, the recording. I have to know.”

  She sought the eyes of her second-in-command. “Ben and I, we both do—so it’s not just one person’s word, one person’s opinion, on what happened to Earth.”

  She’d gotten her hopes up for nothing. The recording would simply cause her pain. But he couldn’t deny her the request. Viewing the holo was her right. He rose, suddenly weary. “Are you coming along?” he asked Trist.

  The linguist appeared surprised that he hadn’t excluded her. But she’d kept Jordan and the purser out of trouble. Inviting her to join them was the least he could do. Only he never imagined she’d accept.

  “I will come,” she said in her husky voice.

  Filled with misgivings, Kào led the group from the bar.

  “This is the viewing room,” Kào said as they followed him into a plush, dark, chamber. “Lights.” Lighting embedded in the walls came on slowly, a rich, soothing glow.

  “The system is set up much the same as the holo-arena,” he explained. Jordan’s gaze flicked to his, a blush tinting her cheeks. He felt the answering heat in his loins. He’d been thinking of her incessantly. Her eyes told him she’d done the same. But they couldn’t have more things conspiring to keep them apart.

  “Let’s get it over with,” Jordan said and joined Ben on the couch.

  “Lights off,” he commanded. “Show holo nine-alpha, four-two-one. Earth.”

  The walls fell away. They floated in simulated space, stars all around them. In the dim light, Kào could see Jordan reach for something to hold. It was Ben’s hand she found. It should have been his.

  Earth showed up in the center of the forward viewing screen. “Look,” he heard Jordan murmur. Taking out his translator, Kào read her words. “It’s beautiful.” Her voice was hushed, poised on the edge of pain.

  “It looks whiter than I expected,” Ben commented.

  “Cloud cover. I thought it’d be bluer, too, though.”

  “We’re not used to seeing it from space.”

  “True.”

  They spoke to cover their apprehension, Kào knew. As they remarked nervously upon their home-world’s appearance, he paced behind the couch for the very same reason. It was worse for him, for he knew what was coming. He’d seen the textual description if not the event itself. He knew she’d be watching the nearly simultaneous destruction of billions of people, one of them her child.

  But if this was what it took to put her past permanently behind her, so she could move on, then watch it she must. Jordan’s steadiness had been an anchor for him, allowing him to dwell less on the dark memories and more on the here and now. Tonight it was his tu
rn to be there for her.

  Kào stole a glance at the time counter on the bottom left area of the forward screen. Any moment now. He tightened his abdomen. Three, two, one. . . .

  A white-hot streak plunged into Earth’s atmosphere. There was nothing at first, then a blinding flash from the surface, near the equator. A massive shock wave rolled outward, across the equator, to the poles, bringing unimaginable destruction.

  “Oh, my God.” Jordan muffled a cry. Kào fought the almost overwhelming call to go to her. But she had made it clear she wanted her distance from him. He respected her enough to give it to her.

  Ripples of devastation spread outward from that first, enormous impact, one that would have challenged the planet’s survival on its own. But the attack from the cosmos wasn’t over. If there was ever a doubt in Jordan’s mind that those on the Savior had deceived her, or that survivors had been left behind mistakenly, what followed would end those false hopes as brutally as the comet had ended life on her planet.

  There was another bright streak, and then another. The comet had broken up, and now the fiery tail of debris came in fast and hard. Fragments of rock and ice glanced off the atmosphere, blood-red slashes.

  Lashes.

  Lashes from a whip. Jaw tight, stomach knotted, Kào paced faster, his hands fisted behind his back. He felt the paralyzing sting of every one of those impacts, as he’d felt them once across his back, chained naked on a cold, filth-stained floor, kneeling in his own waste.

  He glanced up, his breaths ragged. Jordan sat as still as a statue, watching the aftereffects of the collisions. The planet’s cloud cover glowed incandescent orange-red now, reflecting the massive firestorm far below on the surface.