Slip Point (12 page)

“You’re supposed to know where she’s hiding,” Shayalin said.

“As long as they haven’t moved her. Can you calibrate the compass for this ship?”

“What? You can’t fly in circles around the barricade ships?”

“Blindfolded,” he said. “But the quicker we move, the less likely things will get out of hand over here.”

“The calibration will take time too,” she said. “I don’t know which way will be faster.”

“All right,” he said. “Get started while I try to fly in.”

“Jayce,” Quynh said from behind them.

They both turned around. She stood with her hands cradling her belly.

Jayce started to explain to her what had happened, careful to keep a calm tone, but she interrupted him. His brow furrowed, and he asked her a question. Her answer was distinctly more impatient this time.

“Unbelievable,” he murmured.

“What did she say?”

“She says she can speak to the aliens.”

Shayalin stared at the other woman. “How?”

Quynh smiled tightly and patted her belly.

“But the child’s not born yet.”

This time the weight of Quynh’s annoyance pressed directly into her mind.
Don’t you think I know that?

Shayalin jerked back and bit off a curse. “Did you just…?”

Quynh nodded.

She forced herself to breathe evenly and not scrub at her forehead as though she could wipe away any trace of Quynh’s mental intrusion.

“What happened?” Jayce asked, and then he too flinched.

“That,” Shayalin said.

“Telepathy?” He looked stunned.

She pieced it together—slowly, her thoughts grasping at the enormity of it. “The mysterious mutation that allows the Speaker to, well, speak with the aliens.”

Quynh did not deny it.

He shook his head, more in awe than in disbelief. “And the fetus too. Quynh must share the ability while she’s carrying it.”

Shayalin looked at Quynh. “That’s how you understood me, back on the
Paradigm
. You were reading my mind. Or the baby did and told you, or something like that.”

Quynh nodded.

She chuckled. “No wonder you didn’t fall for the spider.”

“Spider?” Jayce asked, bewildered.

“That’s another story.” She dismissed it with a wave of her hand and pressed her knuckles between her eyes. “All right, so we have to get Quynh over to one of the alien ships. And get a senator to come with us.”

“We can’t tell anyone about this,” Jayce said with finality.

“How else are we going to get official sanction for our talks?”

“Think about it, Shay.
Telepathy.
They kept it secret for good reason.”

She thought about what her father would do if he had Quynh in his control and sank into her seat, understanding. “We still have to take Quynh to where she can speak to them. It could mean interstellar war if we don’t get them to stand down.”

“I’m with you there,” he said. “We just can’t explain how it is that Quynh can suddenly understand them. It seems unlikely that the Speaker’s wife would just happen to have the same mutation, and we can’t point to the baby without giving it away—a physical feature wouldn’t give the pregnant mother the same ability.”

Quynh said something, drawing her palm down over her face.

“Can’t you…?” Shayalin gestured vaguely, trying to indicate her telepathic ability.

“It was pretty uncomfortable for me,” Jayce said. “I imagine it was for her too.”

Quynh nodded emphatically.

Shayalin remembered the sudden foreign presence of Quynh’s thoughts within hers and didn’t protest. “Okay. Something about your face?”

“She said no one’s going to see her. For all they’ll know, she’s the Speaker.”

“And even if they did it wouldn’t mean anything,” Shayalin said, suddenly feeling cheerful. “The Speaker’s image has never been broadcast.”

He turned the
Shdai
toward the alien ship. “All right. Hail the
Paradigm
, would you?”

Shayalin reasoned out the purpose of the controls—they were more densely clustered than on an Aequitus, since the pilot usually handled all functions—and keyed in the communication request. She was rewarded by a furious woman’s voice.

“Get your ship out of this space immediately. This is a potential battle zone.”

“If you shoot at me, Commander, you’ll be aiming in their direction,” Jayce said. “It may provoke them.”

“What the hell are you trying to do?”

“Going to talk to the Bellers, like civilized people.”

There was a long pause.

“You have a way to speak with them?”

“Yes.”

“Is the Speaker on board?”

“Commander,” Jayce said, “sitting next to me is the finest smuggler in the eight spokes of the Wheel. Don’t doubt what she can do.”

“I need proof, Pilot.”

“If I could send you a genetic sample, Commander, I would.”

And it would be a perfect match too, Shayalin reflected.

“Instead,” Jayce went on, “we’re going to board the Beller ship and initiate talks. We’ll ask them to do something, like turn around in a circle three times. Will that serve?”

“Even approaching them might be interpreted as an aggressive act,” the commander said.

“And what is sending out dozens of fighter spacecraft from your carrier?”

A long pause. “Pilot, if you’re shitting me in any shape or form—”

“I swear to you I am giving us our best chance at peace. If you can manage to contact the Atian Premier and mention my name, you’ll get confirmation.”

The commander barked orders to someone near her without bothering to mute. “I’m going to try to get the Senate convened as well. Pilot, I want your communication channels wide open the whole time you’re there, and you are not to say a word I don’t approve.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The military response seemed to appease her. “I’ll patch back in momentarily.” She cut out.

Jayce let out a long breath then said, “Well, that went better than I’d expected.”

“This is why I spent the last ten years avoiding authority,” Shayalin said.

“You’re the one who took the premier’s commission,” he pointed out.

“No, that was my father,” she said, then reflected on how she hadn’t perhaps escaped all forms of authority.

His mouth quirked as though he’d had the same thought. But Quynh said something inquisitive, and he only said, “Let me fill her in.”

“She didn’t catch all that?” Shayalin felt her stomach begin to twist into a knot. If this telepathic talent was unreliable…

“Only my end of it,” Jayce said. “Proximity matters. Electronic communications can’t be mind-read, apparently.”

“So we really will have to board.”

He and Quynh spoke for a few minutes while the alien ship loomed closer, a flat disc of dull-colored metal stippled with geometric shapes. Shayalin gazed at it, hardly believing that a vessel so unremarkable could hold something so extraordinary. But as she started to better make out those markings, they resolved into a labyrinthine pattern that compelled the eye with a subtle, unexpected beauty.

Jayce broke into her thoughts, saying, “Yes, the Speaker always met in person with the Bellers.”

“What if they won’t let us in?” Shayalin asked, just as an opening began to dilate in the side of the ship. “Never mind.”

Jayce guided them into the dark hold. The sensors only showed a cavernous space and the wall closing up again behind them. The Swallow glided to a smooth stop. Jayce powered down the ship and turned to look at her. “Coming, Shay?”

She bared her teeth. “Just try and keep me away.” But as she contemplated the stark space of the alien ship’s hold, she added, “Is there any real worry about biological contamination?”

“Suits should take care of that.”

“Do you have enough?”

He nodded. “I made sure to stock three for this trip. You’ll fit into Keaton’s.”

The suit that had been hastily supplied for Quynh had been intended for a burly soldier, about the size of Creeds. Shayalin helped her struggle into it. Although its girth was just sufficient, her limbs were swimming in the long sleeves and pant legs. The helmet, too, was oversized, and Shayalin could barely make out her features through the face plate.

“Well, we don’t need to worry about anyone recognizing you,” she said to Quynh. “No one will be able to look past the suit.”

Quynh might have given her a sour look, but it was hard to tell.

Shayalin suited up as well, a process that took time and much cursing no matter how much practice one had or how well-tailored the suit was.

“Checking the comm system,” came Jayce’s voice through the helmet’s speaker.

“I hear you fine,” Shayalin said, and he and Quynh went through the same exchange.

“I’m hooking in the commander.”

After a moment, the commander said, “I have four senators listening in with me. We’ve agreed to treat this as a military operation under my command, do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jayce said.

“Hold on, there’s one more person joining us—”

Then a welcome voice said, “Nat Perra here.”

It startled a “Sir!” out of Shayalin. She couldn’t say any more, not with others listening. She didn’t even know if he was still pretending to be the senior deputy, or if he had officially taken on his position as the Atian Premier.

He chuckled, although he sounded more tired than amused. “Don’t let me hold you up. Do carry on.”

“We’re ready,” Jayce said.

“Good,” the commander said. “Now, we’ve agreed we should open with this statement…”

Jayce began to translate to Quynh. The hatch opened. Tall shapes waited for them.

They climbed out of the ship and went to forge peace.

Afterward, Shayalin remembered much of the historic meeting as an interminable blur. Part of it was that it took place in the darkened shuttle bay with few visual cues to latch on to. The aliens had been as obscured in their suits as much as the humans had been in theirs, so she still didn’t have a clear image of them. And every sentence had to be painfully relayed from Quynh to Jayce to the commander and the Senate, who would then confer on how to reply, and then the echoes would go down the chain in the other direction.

The buzz of the commander’s voice in their helmet speakers had been harsh and intrusive. “Ask them for assurances of peace,” she’d said, and, “Tell them we see their presence so close to our ships as a threat.”

Quynh had conveyed their responses: “They say they’ve already given assurances,” and, “They saw the Speaker’s absence as a threat of silence. They are content now in speaking with us again.”

Amidst the formalities and negotiations, Shayalin had not dared say a word, but the desire to know more had wrung her into a mess of unanswered questions she would forever regret not asking. Instead, the talks had stretched into discussions about biological necessities and hazards, acceptable levels of interaction and definitions of aggressive behavior. She perked up at the end when trade goods were briefly mentioned, but at that point everyone seemed to have reached her level of impatience, and a tentative treaty was ratified with “a few blanks to be filled in,” as the premier had put it.

And despite all the tedium and how few other details she could recall, Shayalin could recite the most important part of the treaty:
The Bellers and the Senate of the Wheel do hereby declare peaceful intentions toward each other, to be observed through earnest and diligent efforts for mutual understanding and agreement not to undertake deliberate action for harm or damage…
There would be no war, and humanity would have an unprecedented chance to expand its knowledge. Shayalin couldn’t even conceive of what they might learn, but she looked forward to discovering the worldview of another intelligent race—and who knew, maybe their end of the universe as well.

Once the formalities had been wrapped up, Perra had spirited away Quynh to fulfill his promise to the Speaker, at last able to return to his home planet and sort through the chaos there. He’d insisted that Shayalin also come to Albarz to be placed into protective custody.

Peacetime, it turned out, made Shayalin stir-crazy. Going from meeting aliens to being cooped up in a tiny bunker with instructions to stay put and not contact anyone was a steep comedown. Even if she hadn’t gotten to truly see the Bellers, she still remembered the crisp, electric edge of their presence, like a sound outside of what she could register yet still resonant. Those, she knew, had been their thoughts, exchanged with Quynh and spoken aloud in her soft voice, then translated by Jayce.

He had stayed with her, her only solace. He bore her moods patiently, even when she woke him in the mornings to wonder aloud if the meeting area had been kept dark out of some sort of courtesy or safeguard, or because light was unimportant to them, or what kind of material their ships were made of. Then she turned to fretting about the
Adannaya
or the state of Albarz.

He tried to distract her, rather effectively at times. They did their best to make up for all the time they’d lost. But she knew he had to be almost as glad as she was when the message finally came.

The invitation was issued directly from the premier’s office, so Shayalin thought she had a good chance of meeting the man at the event. She’d known better than to try to contact him, as discretion was one of the things he’d sought in hiring her. The invitation was even addressed to Jayce, with the allowance of one guest. She had threatened dire fates should he even consider bringing anyone else.

“We both know this invitation’s really for you,” Jayce said to quiet her.

And it was to a quiet, private celebration of Quynh’s daughter that they went. Some religions had baptisms, and there were cultures that gathered family on the hundredth day after an infant’s birth, while Quynh and Speaker Zakiyah asked those close to them to attend their daughter’s naming. It was in the private wing of an Albarzi hotel, very posh. They’d even been provided with rooms, since the ceremony took place at full moonrise.

In the darkness, Quynh hummed a lilting melody as she allowed water to fall on the wide-eyed infant’s head. The Speaker leaned over her daughter and whispered the name she had chosen into her ear. When the song ended, she faced the rest of them and said, “Cantara. Know her through the rest of her days as Cantara.”

It was simple and swift, but the hushed ritual still brought tears to Shayalin’s eyes. She was touched she’d been one of the few to be present, but she also suspected that the premier would use the opportunity for some politicking. And sure enough, when they moved to the banquet room for a reception, she saw faces she recognized from newsfeeds. Senators. Leading scientists. At least the food would have to be excellent to satisfy the palate of such folk, Shayalin mused as she continued inventorying the guests. A pair of top-ranked admirals—and with them, Commander Chodere, a nicely symbolic presence representing the dismantled barricade. Doubtlessly she’d pieced together enough of the story to warrant her inclusion as well.

“I should speak with her,” Jayce said apologetically.

“I think I’ll let you handle her by yourself,” Shayalin said, eyeing the premier a short distance away. She had her own business to tend to. “See you.”

But as she started across the room, Quynh intercepted her. She held her infant in her arms, and next to her stood a tall, elegant woman with a cap of dark curls and tired eyes. She smiled when Quynh, hand on Shayalin’s arm, said something to her.

“You are Shay, my wife’s friend, I understand.”

Shayalin was grateful not to be introduced as a pirate. “Yes. You’re Speaker Zakiyah?”

“Call me Nala. We both wanted to thank you for what you have done.”

“It started out as a job,” Shayalin said frankly. “But I’m glad I took it. I’m glad your daughter’s well.”

The Speaker’s eyes crinkled, and she said something to Quynh. The two of them conferred for a few moments, and then Nala turned back to Shayalin, her manner suddenly formal. “Would you consider becoming her godmother?”

Shayalin looked at Quynh, shocked.

“I’m sorry to spring that on you,” Nala said.

“You hardly know me.”

“I trust Quynh,” Nala said. “I don’t know of any decent candidates, anyway. Certainly not most of the people in this room. And there’s something reassuring about a godfather in the Corps.”

“Jayce already agreed?”

“Well, we’re going to ask him next. But from what I understand, once you say yes, he’ll follow.”

“It won’t have anything to do with me,” Shayalin said. “He was already protective of her before she was born.”

Nala shook her head with a faint smile. “Don’t sell yourself short. Quynh told me what happened. One of the reasons she was willing to leave your ship with the doctor was because she had seen how he looked at you. She thought you had seduced him into some piratical scheme. It was only after she realized you loved each other that she understood it was Keaton who had misled her.”

Shayalin, still remembering that confessional scene with some embarrassment, tried to turn the conversation back away from it. “But won’t the government decide who gets to associate with your daughter?”

“I’m sure they’ll want a say. But
we
want someone who’ll look out for what’s best for her, not for the world.”

“She’s got a big role to play. Look at everyone here to see her. The only guest you’re missing is a Beller representative.” Shayalin wasn’t surprised—there was still a lot of negative sentiment toward the aliens—but she did feel disappointed.

“They didn’t feel it was appropriate,” Nala said. “They believe that forcing their thoughts upon others who can’t communicate in the same way is rude. Not that this is stopping our child, as you’ve noticed.”

Quynh interrupted at this point, clearly tired of being left out of the conversation. Shayalin smiled an apology at her as Nala translated what they had said so far.

“Quynh says, right now she’s only a baby, and she’ll learn. And do you want to hold her?”

Shayalin had done her share of babysitting back on Centuris, so she took the tiny bundle into her arms, automatically adjusting the infant’s head so it would be supported along the crook of her arm.

“Hi,” she said, putting a finger into reach of that tiny grasp. “Cantara, is it?”

She was jolted by a sense of warmth and curiosity—not her own. Thankfully, she didn’t drop the baby, but she did look wide-eyed over at Quynh. “She’s doing it on her own already?”

“She’ll get it under control soon,” Zakiyah said.

“Did you start this early?”

“No,” Zakiyah said. “But I peeked while Quynh was pregnant, and that probably triggered it.”

“Then how do you know when she’ll start reining it in?” Shayalin asked. An infant telepath indiscriminately using her talent was not a reassuring thought.

Zakiyah smiled and tapped her temple. “You forget. I can talk to her.”

“You’ll be an interesting family,” Shayalin said, shaking her head even as she transferred the baby’s slight weight back to Quynh.

Zakiyah translated, and Quynh laughed before replying. Zakiyah’s expression was frankly curious as she said, “As interesting as a pirate and a Steader, hmm?”

Shayalin shot Quynh a dark look. That wasn’t information she wanted shared widely.

“Don’t worry,” Zakiyah said dryly. “We know each others’ secrets, as it were.”

Shayalin had to concede that Zakiyah had far more to be worried about. “I won’t tell anyone,” she said. “I’m not sure how long you can keep it quiet, though.”

“Hopefully long enough that we’ll find others like me, so she won’t have to grow up a freak. I’m sure Cuoramin has already started more experiments.”

Quynh put a hand on her wife’s shoulder at Zakiyah’s bitter tone.

Shayalin, remembering how right her world had become when she’d found just one other person who shared her outlandish ambitions for spaceflight—and oddly as she and Jayce had been regarded on Centuris, it was nothing compared to how differently people would look at Quynh’s and Nala’s daughter—thought she understood a little. “Remember, right now,” she said firmly, “she’s an adorable little girl. Treat her that way. When things get rough later on, that’s when a pirate godmother will come in handy.”

“You’re giving up pirating,” Zakiyah said, but her dark mood was broken. She said something to Quynh, who broke into a smile and spoke to Shayalin. “She says, welcome to the family.”

Shayalin took a moment to steady her voice against the sudden upwelling of warmth within her breast. “Thank you.” She bent to brush Cantara’s cheek with her knuckles then bid them farewell before sentiment could get the better of her.

The premier was waiting to speak with the guests of honor, of course, but she had her own share of talking to do with him. He nodded as she approached. “Captain. Well done.”

The praise caught her off-guard. Her father never told her when she’d done a good job, as he simply expected her to do one in the first place. “Thanks. And not that your regard doesn’t mean much—”

He raised a hand. “Spare me. I’ll arrange for your pardons as soon as I can.”

“The longer you take, the more ships we’ll hijack between now and then,” Shayalin pointed out.

The premier muttered something. But a smile tugged at his mouth as he said, “Give me 'til the end of today. You can’t cause too much trouble before then, can you?”

“I can only try my best,” Shayalin said solemnly.

He snorted and was about to move on, but she stopped him.

“Sir…”

“Well?”

“Did you pick me because of my connection to Jayce?” She’d decided to ask him as soon as she’d realized he was involved with the mission.

“Yes.”

She hadn’t expected such a bald response.

“Don’t throw him away this time,” he added.

She was flippant by reflex. “Well, if the
premier
says so…”

He smiled faintly. “If only so that it’ll make you easier to reach the next time I need you.”

“The next time?” she asked, startled.

“You didn’t think you could get away with being useful to me only once, did you?”

“I fully expect to be too busy with my new business to hijack any ships or breach any blockades.” The premier’s interest made the back of her neck prickle. Then again, his favor could be useful indeed.

He quirked his eyebrows at her. “We’ll see, Captain.”

She grinned. “'Til next time, then, sir.”

And finally she was free to go to Jayce. She should call her father and let him know—and she really ought to send a message to her mother—but there was something more important she had to say to Jayce.

Although he smiled at the sight of her and excused himself from his conversation partner to turn to her, his smile was strained. She tried to kiss it away. It didn’t work.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Jayce rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think this will work.”

She took a step back, feeling her stomach twist. “Why not?”

He caught her hands. “Don’t you see? I love being in the Corps. Don’t ask me to give that up.”

With a flood of relief, Shayalin realized his line of reasoning, but she couldn’t help teasing him a little after he had shocked her with that pronouncement. She slid her arms around his neck and let her voice go low and husky as she pressed her body against him. “Why would you have to?”

“You’re a pirate!”

She grinned up at him. “Remember that reward the premier referred to? I’m getting a pardon.”

He looked blank.

“That was my asking price for having to put up with you.”

“You said you were doing it for the money.”

“I lied.”

“You let me think that of you?”

“Maybe we should have this out,” she said, releasing him. “What
do
you think of me?”

He gazed at her in silence for a long moment. Then he said, “I think that you’re bold and foolish and daring and tough and beautiful, and I love you, Shay, and if you ever leave me again it will break me.”