Contact

by Susan Grant

  Natalie gave her a thumbs-up, and Jordan hurried off with Dillon. Everyone from Flight 58 was used to seeing her and the Irishman rush back and forth to the computer, and they didn’t give them a second glance. They had something else working in their favor. It was “Key Thursday,” one of the two days of the week Jordan forced everyone to speak their new language. People would think twice before troubling her with banal requests or chitchat, since it would have to be done in their new tongue. On Key days, English was punishable with a variety of penalties ranging from no dessert—which was often a questionable substance as it was—to an additional three extra hours studying Alliance history. Jordan was sure they grumbled behind her back, but it was for their own good.

  Of course, she was breaking all the rules in her excitement at Dillon’s news. “The string of numbers Ben saw on the holo were altered,” he’d told her. “So were the ones sent off the ship by Kào to their government, along with news of the discovery.”

  She remembered Dillon trying to explain in basic terms that when things were changed on a computer after the fact, footprints remained. Well, he hadn’t used the term footprints, exactly, but it was how she’d understood what he told her.

  Dillon jumped onto his floating chair and went to work on the computer. She was too hyper to sit and paced behind him. “The real location of Earth isn’t what’s on record,” he said as he typed. “The coordinates the aliens made public put Earth thousands of light-years from where it really is.”

  She paced. Frowned. Swore. Tried not to revert to her old habit of wringing her hands. “Why do that unless they wanted to keep Earth secret?”

  “I don’t know. Those are the facts.”

  “How long is it going to take those science academy folks to figure out that the doctored coordinates correspond to empty space? This is an advanced civilization; they’ll see the bait-and-switch sooner or later.”

  “Someone on this ship already thought of that.”

  She swallowed. “What do you mean?”

  “The coordinates don’t correspond to empty space.” He tugged on his ear, a mannerism he took on only when he was stymied in his work. Or scared, an emotion Dillon rarely displayed.

  “Dillon, where are they saying Earth is?”

  “Kerils-1008, a planet about the size of our Mars. It took me a while to figure it out because the planet wasn’t listed in the galactic database. But it is in the ship’s log. The Savior crew discovered it a while back and didn’t tell anyone.”

  She thought of the movie that showed Earth’s destruction, and how the planet’s cloud cover hadn’t looked quite right. Unfamiliar somehow. Fear, cold and glutinous, oozed into her limbs. “Kerils-1008 didn’t happen to be hit by a comet, did it?”

  He gazed up at her. “One that fragmented before it hit.”

  “The bastards,” Jordan hissed. “They lied to us. When we asked for proof, Kerils was the planet they showed us. Not Earth.”

  “I personally think the only thing that’s changed at home is that our families think we disappeared in a plane crash.”

  “Honest to God, Dillon, if we’re wrong again . . .” She brought her hand to her mouth, biting her finger to keep from howling in outrage. She couldn’t go up the roller coaster incline again only to fall.

  “It’s there. Earth. The more I learn, the more I suspect it. It’s why I’ve lived at this terminal, day and night.” A muscle in his jaw pulsed. “I swear, before my dying day I’ll be back in Mulligan’s, a pint of Guinness in my hand.”

  His blue eyes watered, and hers burned in response.

  “It’s a sickness,” she whispered. “Finding ways to keep our hopes alive. We can’t keep doing this to ourselves without suffering real psychological damage.”

  “We weren’t wrong. We were right. And we’re right now. That’s the way we have to think of it.”

  Courage is accepting the challenge though it’s easier to give up.

  “Anyway, this is what I won for my work.” Dillon typed some more. Then he sat back in his seat as a three-dimensional digital holographic image filled the screen in front of him. “Here’s where the real Earth sits in relation to the rest of the galaxy.” He pointed to a glowing speck. “That depicts our sun.”

  She nodded. “The astronomers have always said we’re out on the galaxy’s arm, like that. Far from the center.”

  “The boonies, as you Americans say.”

  “The Rim, as the aliens say.”

  “And we haven’t wandered too far from where we started.”

  “You’re kidding? After all these weeks? And at light speed? What the hell have we been doing, traveling in circles?”

  “Just about,” he confirmed.

  Something was wrong. Dead wrong. Earth’s true location was being covered up and now they were wandering aimlessly in the back reaches of the galaxy. She thought of Kào, and the news he’d gotten from his father. “The Alliance is desperate to settle the Rim. And the reasoning behind it makes sense. But are they desperate enough to take a couple of hundred people against their will? Are they planning to drop us off and go back for more?”

  Dillon winced. “Sounds like Invasion of the Body Snatchers crossed with Star Wars. Alien abductions for the sake of galactic peace.”

  Jordan groaned. “I’ve got to get the crew together and brief them. Don’t tell the other passengers anything until I gather my thoughts and make a plan. I can’t afford panic.” Not even my own, she thought. “But everyone needs to understand that we were lied to.”

  “Someone’s lying to us,” Dillon agreed.

  “Kào?” She hated the flicker of uncertainty she felt upon blurting that out.

  Dillon remained poker-faced. Tactful guy, he was; he knew full well who’d given her the hickey on her neck. “Here’s the log of his computer activity. He’s been corresponding with the Science Academy. No one else.”

  As she read the text in Key as best she could—she wasn’t nearly as adept at translating as Dillon—the possibility of losing Kào over everything that was unfolding became sharply apparent. She couldn’t bear the thought of it, but she’d made a promise to her kid. She’d told Roberta that she’d come home. She’d clung to that promise, until all hope was gone. Only when she believed it was gone had she finally given up. And now the hope was back.

  She had a promise to fulfill. Keeping her word was her own brand of honor, honor on a much smaller and more personal scale than that of the military heroes she’d known, including her father, brother, and Kào, but to her it was just as important. If there was a way, she was going home. If she had one other wish, it would be that Kào would want to come with her.

  “Kào asked for Earth’s coordinates via the terminal in his quarters,” Dillon explained. “And sent what the science staff gave him.”

  The science staff. “Trist. . . .”

  “That’s right. And it’s what makes me think Kào’s okay. He wouldn’t know anything of Kerils, because he doesn’t have access to those records.”

  “How the hell did you manage it?”

  He exhaled. “Trist again. She opened the door and looked the other way. Remember?”

  This was like playing chess without knowing the color of the game pieces. “Whose side is she on?”

  “I hope it’s ours,” he said. “If not, I think we’re screwed.”

  Jordan would waste no time making sure everyone in the crew knew about what Dillon had found. “Ben,” she called. In an instant, the purser was at her side. With one glance at her face he knew something was up. “We have an emergency. Get all the flight attendants to the briefing room. Quickly.”

  Ben departed to round up the crew. Jordan wiped her damp palms on her jeans and stood. “Dillon, that means you, too.”

  The hacker’s mouth tipped up. “A battlefield promotion?”

  In spite of her anxiety, she smiled. “Yeah. You can call it that.”

  They gathered in the crew-only area of Town Square, the makeshift meeting room hidd
en behind movable dividers. Ben departed to do as she’d requested. She motioned to another flight attendant, Rich. “Make sure no one eavesdrops.” She didn’t want half-heard and misunderstood remarks inciting panic. Arms folded over his ’Forty-niners sweatshirt, Rich stood guard until she was through briefing the crew.

  At last, she gathered and brought the passengers up to date. Then, her throat raw from answering questions, she rejoined Dillon at the computer to see what they could find that might shed light on why the aliens wanted Earth’s location kept a secret.

  The sight of Trist at the front hatch stopped her cold. With rumors of subterfuge in the air, the passengers gave the Talagar a wide berth. The linguist’s startling crimson eyes and tense lavender mouth added to everyone’s discomfort. In her tight dress, she’d been beautiful in a sleek, runway-model way. But the gray Alliance uniform hung on her gaunt frame. Her drawn face added to her spare, unforgiving appearance. “Remember that favor of which we spoke?” she asked.

  “Too well,” Jordan replied.

  “I have come to collect it.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “Did you say Sofu, sir?” Kào asked.

  “Yes. You’re to be picked up by an ambassadorial vessel transiting this zone and brought to the capital. Bring winter clothing. It’s brutally cold there this time of year. You’ll be there in time for the Ice Festival. Have a Glacial Ale in my name, would you?” Moray’s comm sounded again. “Now what?” he blustered.

  “Sir, the Talagars are in range,” a young officer informed him, his eyes shining with unchecked innocent excitement. To Kào, the ensign looked all of fifteen. To the boy, a post-war recruit, docking with a genuine Talagar battleship would be a grand adventure.

  “What is the status of their weapons systems?” Moray inquired.

  “Disabled.”

  “The crew?”

  “Complying with all instructions, sir. They’re ready for us to initiate the docking sequence.”

  “Ah, good, Ensign. I’m on my way.” Moray got halfway out of his chair when he seemed to remember that Kào was in the room with him. “Would you like to see what we’ve caught in our nets, Kào?” I know how you feel about the Talagars, his eyes said.

  Kào was still reeling from the double blow: hearing about the refugees’ transfer and his own impending, unbelievably ill-timed transfer to a government vessel. “I think I’ll go to my quarters to pack.”

  Moray’s relief at his acquiescence lit up his face. “I knew you’d be excited about the trip.”

  Not that trip, Father. But Kào let nothing in his face reveal that he intended to transfer to the Talagar vessel with the refugees, with Jordan. Anything Sofu needed, they could correspond with him there.

  Withdrawn and aloof, Kào walked with Moray from the conference room. Before them was the bridge with its sweeping view of the stars. Life seemed quite a bit simpler the last time he was here, before he’d experienced the changes that Jordan had brought about in his life.

  His father squeezed his arm and left his side, disappearing into a waiting knot of eager aides. Kào had intended to leave immediately for New Earth, but the sight of the Talagar battleship sitting off the bow of the Savior stopped him cold.

  Kào’s legs carried him toward the forward observation area, where he couldn’t pull his gaze from the Talagar vessel. This was the craft onto which the refugees would be taken.

  He clasped his hands behind his back, controlling his respiration as he watched the vessel’s approach. There was a time when seeing a battleship such as this would have sent his mind racing to explore avenues of its destruction. Missiles, deadly smart-dust that detonated on impact, relativistic bomblets, ion torpedoes—so many choices. In his mind, Kào had destroyed the ship several times by the time his father shouted an order that would bring the Talagar commander’s face onto the main screen.

  The image of the battleship and the stars was replaced in a digital instant. A man about the age of his father came onscreen. Moray walked forward to greet him. Kào expected his father to display resentment if not open hostility; after all, the Talagars had murdered his wife and children. But, to his shock, Moray’s manner was genial. “Admiral Steeg.”

  The Talagar nodded. “Commodore Moray.” In a resonant voice mellowed by the typical Talagarian burr, he stated, “Docking may commence.”

  One by one, Jordan’s flight attendants assembled to see what Trist wanted. The passengers gathered, too, though at a safe distance. Everyone sensed that something was wrong. The silence stretched taut. The air itself felt ready to shatter.

  Trist spoke in English, allowing Jordan to keep her translator stowed. “You must do some things for me, things you may not understand. I ask that you trust me, you and your people. You owe me, yes, but this I ask to save your lives. You are a smart woman, Captain. I know you will obey my orders if I say it will bring you home.”

  Home. “So it’s true,” Jordan dared, her heart beating hard.

  “No comet destroyed your planet,” Trist confirmed. “Earth is as it was before.”

  Cheers went up all around her. Jordan wasn’t sure if she wanted to whoop with joy or sob. Earth existed! Everyone was still alive. Including her family, her daughter. But her excitement only ignited her fury that they’d been lied to. “Why did you switch the coordinates? Why weren’t we told the truth?”

  Trist’s expression chilled. “Those questions. Answers will come in time. But now, you must trust me.”

  Jordan bit back her impatience. If Trist was giving them the chance to go home, they’d better take it, not scrutinize it looking for holes. “What do we have to do to make this happen?”

  “Obey my instructions and you go home,” Trist said cryptically. “Act rashly and you will never see your loved ones again.”

  Jordan set her jaw. “It’s a no-brainer, then.”

  Trist blinked at her.

  “It means we’re with you,” Jordan explained. “We’ll do what you ask.” She turned to the rest of Flight 58. “Right?”

  Natalie gave her a thumbs-up. “I will.”

  “Me, too,” Ben said, his still-astonished gaze riveted on Trist.

  One by one, everyone poked a thumb in the air until all seventeen flight attendants and two hundred and sixty-nine passengers had made their support known.

  Jordan’s composure amazed her, frankly. And also theirs. The terror and grief over the last few months had strengthened them.

  “This won’t be without risk,” Trist warned Jordan.

  Jordan wrung her hands. Bit the inside of her lip. Tightened her stomach muscles to quell the butterflies flocking there in droves. Was this the right decision? Would she regret this day?

  Courage is doing the right thing even though you are scared.

  She wiped her sweaty palms on her pants. “Well, it’s better than the alternative.”

  Trist nodded. “Ready your people, then. Time is short. You will go to your aircraft in cargo bay. You have a map. Use back way. Hand-ladders. No lifts. No shuttles. This you must do. And quickly. No one must know.”

  “Two hundred and eighty-seven people traveling in a group aren’t going to be easy to miss, Trist,” Jordan pointed out.

  The linguist gave her head a curt shake. “It can be done. Single file. Each holds clothing of one in front. It may be cold. Bring jackets, warm clothing, blankets. Be sure no one wears ship-issued jumpsuit.” She pointed to the nape of her neck, reminding Jordan of the locaters. “Must not alert security.”

  Unease coiled around Jordan’s spine and yanked tight. She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. “So we get to the plane. Then what?”

  “You lock doors from inside and await further instructions.”

  “And then we’ll be brought home?”

  “That is the plan.”

  Trist’s non-answer was telling. It hinted that a plan to outwit whoever on board had lied to them was under way, but that it wasn’t going to be a simple or safe operation.

  Jord
an told her crew, “Everyone has five minutes to grab their medications, if they’re assigned any. If while they’re doing that they pocket some things to bring along, fine. Then get everyone into our emergency groups of twenty and form up in Town Square.” Working out the emergency groups was something she’d already accomplished early in their stay, in case they ever needed to evacuate or organize quickly. The groups had become familiar to the passengers. Some had even named their teams. It had paid off: They’d be able to mobilize quickly. “Five minutes. That’s all we have.” Jordan didn’t want to chance losing one of the kids. “Assign two people to each of the children. And make sure you do a final head count. I don’t want to leave anyone behind.

  “One last thing, people!” She’d better get every advantage she could in their home court. They were going to need it. “Father Sugimoto and Pastor Earl—would you quickly bless this endeavor, please?”

  As the men led the group in a rushed but heartfelt prayer, Jordan crossed herself and bowed her head, but her eyes slid to the empty hatch. It was so sudden, their move off the ship. Kào . . . where are you? She couldn’t bear leaving without knowing if he’d made the decision to go with her. He’d said he planned to speak to his father about leaving with her. What had happened in that conversation? Why wasn’t he here with Trist?

  When she saw Trist regarding her strangely, she realized that her love for Kào burned in her face as violently as it did in her heart.

  The linguist’s voice was gentler. Or was it Jordan’s imagination? “Kào was taken off this assignment by the commodore.”

  “Why?”

  Trist’s eyes were inscrutable. “Obligations.”

  Jordan’s breath caught with a sudden wrenching in her chest. Oh, Lord, no. Let me see him again.

  Kào wasn’t happy on the Savior. That fact was apparent in everything he did and said. Only his fierce loyalty to his father had kept him on the ship when he would have rather pursued his own prospects. But now it looked as if she’d have to prepare for an alternate possibility. If he’d chosen to stay with his father until his war records were cleared, it would be difficult for him to tell her that. He may have chosen to skip the step entirely.