The Alliance (21 page)

“He undoubtedly worked with them, but the Elite of Trygon now claims him as a son and the records back it up. They sent him off world to prepare him for his role in deposing the pontiff. Joining the Alliance was a logical step.”

“Why not us?” She knew the answer, but she was curious what reason a trained diplomat and negotiator would give.

“The Alliance has no record of colonization. His father wanted no inconvenient loyalties getting in the way.” This man had no illusions about his role.

He tapped the driver on the shoulder and they drove toward the Temple. More surprises. Where the gate had been, a broad thoroughfare led to a bustling market and the inner circle buildings all boasted signs naming them university faculties.

“The priests now teach and education is free to all. The administration disburses the income from our trading licenses to support gifted students and is building regional schools everywhere. Be careful, he understands our bottom line obsession and punishes transgressions by attacking profits.” His tone sounded rueful. An admission of lessons learned the hard way.

They passed the inner circle and reached the gardens surrounding the palace. The changes here were subtle and she had to look hard to see the vegetables and fruits growing among the flowers of the ornamental garden beds.

“This is part of the University too. He’s made it self-sufficient in food and the horticulture faculty students run it. We should catch up with him at the fish farm on the seaward side of the estate. He’s helping in the set-up.” The ambassador seemed amused.

They drove around the palace and reached the beach, no longer hemmed in by a wall, the debris used to build a causeway and seawall enclosing a shallow lagoon. A knot of uniformed Federation advisors stood on a barge directing the efforts of workers in the water, the latter stripped to the waist at least—she couldn’t see if they wore anything below the level of chest deep water.

“We’ll have to walk from here.” The ambassador waited for the driver to open the door. “Keep to the duck boards till we reach the causeway.”

Rachael had added to her height with stiletto heels. She retained the vague impression the President stood taller and wanted him to have no avoidable advantage at this first official meeting. She viewed the thirty feet of duckboards with some suspicion and hoped the causeway surface wasn’t cobbled. A stumbling approach would do nothing to calm her nerves.

Helped out of the vehicle by the ambassador, she stood for a moment, her eyes searching the crowded barge. Her memories of him were sharp and augmented by recent holograms. She should recognize him.

“As usual, he’s in the thick of it.” The ambassador felt amused and he pointed at the forward edge of the barge, but Rachel recognized no one. She’d have to get closer.

The causeway surface was rough, claiming her attention to avoid stumbles, and the gangway down to the barge tried her balance even further, so she reached the group of Federation advisors still puzzled. Seeing their attention was on the water, she turned, just as a worker duck-dove to the bottom, giving her a glimpse of bare buttocks as he disappeared. She saw no sign of Jack. She turned back to the ambassador, who’d followed her, and found him grinning at some private joke. She hesitated to ask the obvious question, but a familiar voice saved her.

“Hello, Rachael. Glad you could join us. I’ll be with you as soon as we secure the bottom netting.” The naked worker had resurfaced. His grin showed white against the weathered brown of his face.
Jack
.

“Hello, Mister President.” She tried to keep it formal. “I’ve come to present my credentials.”

“You called me Jack before. Nothing important has changed, and you don’t need credentials here. You’re welcome in any capacity you chose to assume.” He swam the few strokes to the barge and reached up to take her hand.

She bent down and placed her hand in his, wondering all the time whether she was being wise. It would take little effort on his part to tip her into the water.

He seemed to sense her thought, for his grip tightened an instant before he relinquished her hand. “Walk back to your vehicle. I’ll join you there as soon as I can.”

She’d forgotten the impact of those eyes. “Thank you, Mister President. I appreciate you taking the time to speak to me.” A flush warmed her cheeks at his smile.

His face looked leaner and browner than she remembered, his body hard and fit with physical labor. She saw an air of contentment in his manner. This was a man doing a worthwhile job and enjoying it. He winked deliberately as he turned away and Rachael’s cheeks warmed further. She’d underestimated how difficult this man would prove and he seemed determined to bypass protocol.

* * * *

Jack watched her make her way back onto the causeway. She looked much as he remembered her; a million-credit beauty who could switch in an instant from femme fatale to the girl you’d take home to Mother. There were more shadows in her mind though, and a lurking terror imperfectly recognized. His grandmother was right. Rachael needed help.

He smiled suddenly.

Not even Peter opposed Dael when she decided someone needed help. Rachael didn’t know it yet, but she’d gained a powerful champion—one whose overwhelming love could weave miracles of healing. The Pontiff was already improving under his grandmother’s gentle care. He’d added another syllable to his ancestors name and become D’feodar. He would never be entirely trustworthy and remain under the supervision of the Group Mind until old age removed him from temptation. It was a better fate than he’d earned here. Jack still had trouble forgiving him for the way he’d treated Rachael.

The family had analyzed the return voyage to the Treaty Port in detail, taking the details from his memory and adding their own impressions from the moments when one or the other had checked his well being. Their consensus was he’d done well in the field operation, but needed more strategic thought.

“The woman worked out why we needed a hero,” his father said. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was a little busy surviving.” Jack thought Karrel unfair.

“She was under direct threat of death too and had only her brains to defend herself. I followed her thought processes with interest.” His father shook his head. “She did very well, better than you in this respect. You’ll learn much from her.”

“What do you mean?” His father never made slips of the tongue.

“We’re giving you your first independent mission. Fifty years to establish a stable democracy on Feodar’s world. She’ll be part of it.” Karrel held up his hand and began ticking the points on his fingers. “General education, trade agreements ensuring continued independence from the Federation, modernize the economy, create political awareness, and foster the habit of reasoned debate.” He smiled. “The Federation will respond with whatever weapons it can find, particularly the woman. As soon as they’re sure of her loyalty, they’ll send her back and hope you start thinking with what lies between your legs.”

Jack acknowledged his father had been right, but then he usually was.

* * * *

Rachael returned to the vehicle knowing he’d out maneuvered her once more. Diplomatic protocol had ensured Jack knew the exact time she’d arrive. He’d set this up to throw her off-balance and she’d walked straight into it. She bit her lower lip in vexation. Stumbled was a better description.

It wasn’t a good start.

She had no illusions about her selection for this position, but it represented an escape from fieldwork and she must succeed. There was no going back. When the ambassador handed her into the vehicle she seated herself, surreptitiously cleaning the sand from her shoes on the carpet while he made his way around to the other side. Fortunately, he sensed her disinclination to talk and they sat silent while they waited. Rachael looked down at the floor, thinking hard.

A half memory had surfaced with the touch of his hand. She wasn’t sure whether it was real or another of the phantasms created by a mind overstressed by fear, but she thought she remembered Jack carrying her in his arms after her escape from the Pontiff, while he verbally flayed those around her into action. Like her memory of the Pontiff’s escape from this world, it had the unreal feel of a dream and her therapists had labeled it a trick of her mind turning desire into memory.

“Here he comes.”

The ambassador’s voice brought her back to the present and Rachael looked up. Jack swam toward them, powering though the water like a trained athlete. She saw a towel and some folded clothes on the sand, twenty feet from the water’s edge. He wasn’t missing a trick. She’d have to watch him or appear a prude.

Damn
. This job wasn’t going to be easy, and she’d underestimated him badly.

Jack emerged from the water and her body reacted, months of therapy destroyed in an instant, and the memory of their love-making in the temple startlingly clear. His epic journey back to the Treaty Port had stripped him down to the essential musculature, all excess weight gone, and he looked magnificent—a superior predator in its prime. There was something else as well, a refining of a quality she’d already noted and admired. He was a king without arrogance, a god with humility, utterly complete in himself.

A small child approached him and he squatted down to bring their faces level, following the child’s animated speech with a broad smile. His head nodded in agreement. When the mother arrived to reclaim the little girl, he stood, lifting the child in his arms.

Rachael couldn’t hear the conversation, but obviously the mother apologized and he’d deflected the apology and led the woman into talking about herself and her family. Her outstretched arm indicated the workers in the water and he turned to identify her subject, nodding when he did and adding some words of praise. The woman’s expression as she took the child from his arms made Rachael hate her.

“He does that sort of thing all the time,” the ambassador said. “It makes guards redundant and our undercover people either swap sides or are sent back to us shame-faced.”

“There must be some reaction to the changes he’s made. He can’t be pleasing everyone.”

“It’s still honeymoon time. They’ve never had a leader directly concerned with their welfare and will forgive him anything because he obviously cares. He does nothing to persuade them, just gets on with the job of modernizing, spreading the benefits as far as he can. It’s disheartening how well he succeeds.”

Rachael considered the situation and spoke, more to herself than to her companion. “He’s forcing us into competing for their loyalty.”

“You’re right. Which makes it strange he’s done nothing to tarnish your reputation? I think he actually fosters the idea you are more the heroine than he ever was a hero.” The ambassador shook his head at the foolishness.

Rachael nodded thoughtfully. “He wants us to compete. My status gives us the tools and he intends we use them. He must be confident he can limit our gains.” She turned to stare at Jack. “My return is part of his plan.” He’d finished speaking to the woman and was on his way again. “We’ll play a waiting game. Find out what else he has in mind.” She’d taken charge.

“They said you were too good to remain a field operative.” The ambassador smiled. “I can understand why I was sent into the Temple to pressure the Pontiff for your release.”

“It came close to getting me killed.” Rachael only pushed away the memory of the glittering pike point aimed at her throat, and the Pontiff’s eyes behind it, because Jack had reached the vehicle.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “It was thoughtless of me to spoil your big moment. You’ve earned more consideration than this. If you’d like to present your credentials, I’ll accept them formally and we’ll have a proper welcoming shindig in a week or two, probably borrow the Grand Hall.” His expression looked contrite, but she detected a flicker of mischief in his eyes.

“Perhaps I’ll wait until you’re more appropriately attired.” She must hold her own.

Jack looked down at his worn work shirt and shorts, as if seeing them for the first time. “You’re right,” he said. “Give me an hour and we’ll meet in the center of the market square. It’ll make everyone take notice.”

“An hour,” Rachael agreed. “I can walk there from the compound.”

“Thank you. I’ll look forward to it.” His smile suggested he anticipated her company rather than the ceremony.

He’s doing this to me
, she thought.
Why do I believe I can sense what he’s thinking? He’s standing there, watching me process this, and smiling as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. I know it’s impossible, but it doesn’t change a thing
.

“I’ll go then.” It came out as if she’d asked his permission. This was insufferable.

“It will give me time to prepare.” He agreed with her, laughing all the time in his mind.

Rachael forced herself to sit back in the seat. “Drive to the compound,” she told the driver, and felt thankful when the vehicle lifted from the ground and started moving. The air blast from under the skirts sent sand flying around Jack’s ankles, but he didn’t flinch. She could feel his eyes watching her, but didn’t dare return his gaze. This was harder than she thought.

She felt grateful the outgoing ambassador chose to remain silent as the vehicle made its way to the compound. All her embryonic plans for dealing with Jack were in disarray, and she had only an hour to recast them.