Rachel's Return

by Amy Gallow

  "Good Morning.” Jenni was there. She looked tired.

  "Good Morning, Jenni. It's a great day.” Rachael rose from the bed without conscious effort and took the offered cup of coffee. “We'll have breakfast in the canteen with the others. How do you take your coffee ... or perhaps you prefer tea."

  "Coffee, white with one.” She could feel Jenni's surprise.

  "Why don't you get one for yourself while I dress?"

  "I will.” Jenni's answer was automatic rather than considered. She'd come in worried about yesterday and the change in direction left her floundering.

  "Don't worry about yesterday. It's forgotten.” Rachael responded to the knowledge without thinking how she knew. “I want to reinforce their trust this morning. Make sure I speak to Dick Smith ... or, even better still, tell him yourself that we mentioned the excellence of his report in the summary.” Her mind ran on, noting Jenni's surprise. “We need our people onside. Help me keep track of their achievements. You're in a better position than I. We must foster a climate of excellence.” She grinned at Jenni's reaction. “I know. I sound like a recruiter spouting clichés, but the thought behind them are real and the principles valid. Help me get it across to them.” She paused. “Get your coffee first though, before I run off at the mouth again.” She smiled at Jenni's confusion. “I mean it. Get your coffee."

  Rachael turned away, sipping her coffee as she regarded the rack of everyday outfits in the wardrobe. What impression did she want to make, today? There must be no sharp contrast to the others in the canteen. Would they react to her visit yesterday by smartening their dress? She nodded. Probably, they would. Jenni would be a good measure. Matching her assistant's choice would be the safest. It would make two of them ... Rachael laughed ... her red hair made successfully hiding in a crowd of two improbable.

  The sound of the door opening turned her to Jenni, still smiling, and her perceptions sharpened at the woman's expression. If Jenni found her sexually attractive, it would explain many things. A wave of sympathy startled her. Her discovery of love made her wish for everyone's happiness, even if she couldn't respond to Jenni's feelings. “You look great,” she said. “I'll match your outfit and we'll look like sisters.” It was the best she could offer.

  Jenni's expression confirmed her guess and Rachael was thoughtful as she dressed. This added a complication to their relationship and she would have to manage it carefully so the woman didn't get hurt.

  Their entry into the canteen confirmed another guess. Heads turned immediately to prove they were expected. Rachael found her heightened perceptions reading expressions clearly and attributing emotions with more confidence than usual and it was a little intoxicating. “We'll sit with Dick Smith again,” she said to Jenni, keeping her voice soft enough for privacy. “Remember what I said."

  Jenni nodded and led the way to the table.

  "Good Morning.” Rachael smiled at their automatic response. “Don't get up. I'm just claiming a chair before I get my breakfast. Wouldn't want to be left standing with a full food tray.” The room was almost full, only a few empty chairs dotted here and there. They'd all wanted to see if she came again.

  Impressions bombarded her senses, the room seemed inordinately noisy, everyone talking at once, her heightened perceptions catching every nuance of her companion's expressions and she was glad to turn away and focus on gathering her breakfast from the bain-marie, selecting local dishes predominately, her undercover years had given her a taste for them. Some trick of acoustics deadened the background noise as she made her selections and she was grateful, especially when a sense of Jack's grandmother made her turn sharply to her right. The space was empty, the others ceded her more personal room automatically, but her sense of Dael remained.

  Rachael shrugged. The chatter was now manageable and she felt less threatened, although her sharpened perceptions still seemed as acute when she focused on an individual. An errant memory tantalized her for a moment and then was gone. Had this happened before?

  "Have you decided about the welcoming dinner yet?” Jenni's question side-tracked her.

  "Yes. We'll go as you suggested. Department Heads, wives, you and I.” Last night in the Pavilion may have compromised the need for a welcoming function, but playing along bought her time to find out.

  Jenni's satisfaction showed, possibly in her tone, completing Rachael's distraction from the illusive familiarity of her experience. Her PA had an ulterior motive in attending the dinner. Something beyond her professional duties.

  "I wonder if his family will be there.” The tone was artless, but the question wasn't. Could Jenni be desperate to observe the First Family first hand? Was this her motive for following her to the Beach Pavilion?

  "I doubt it.” Rachael felt the woman's disappointment. “It will be Feodar's World dignitaries. Last night was personal. Thursday is official."

  "I suppose you're right.” She didn't sound convinced.

  Was it disappointment or secret knowledge? Instinct stopped Rachael from questioning further. She could be forcing Jenni to lie and they had to work together. Too many lies would make it harder. She'd bide her time and watch.

  They were the center of covert attention as they returned to their table. It was going to take time for the others to get used to her presence, but she'd make it work. She needed to gain their trust if she wanted to succeed; particularly now she'd committed herself to helping Jack.

  She smiled. It felt strange, being committed again. She'd felt this way when she first joined the Federation, but too many missions revealing petty ambitions rather than noble purpose had weakened it until only the demands of self respect had kept her going. Nothing about Jack was petty; she could feel his strength, even here.

  "Madame Ambassador.” A voice from the doorway turned her. It was the duty communications officer. “An urgent signal.” He raised a folded signal sheet, clearly marked with the red high security diagonal.

  "Coming.” She put her plate on the table. “Pardon me, for leaving. If I don't get back, could one of you return this?"

  A chorus of assent assured her it would be done and she threaded her way through the tables to the door, Jenni in her wake.

  "It came through five minutes ago. I didn't realize you'd be here,” the comms officer apologized. “You need to read it."

  Rachael took the sheet and opened it, skimming through the introductory paragraph to reach the body of the message. All the Federation weather satellites had suffered a technical malfunction and the communications branch was asking urgent permission to enter their orbits to carry out repairs. She was to seek the President's permission urgently.

  "When did the satellite broadcasts cease?” she asked the comms officer, handing the signal to Jenni.

  "They're still functioning. I started my people running full function tests as soon as the message came through. The only thing they'd found before I left to deliver this was a drop in the base load on the batteries. It appears common to all the satellites. I would guess some ancillary system has shut down and they don't know why and want to check before the fault affects the main systems."

  "When did this drop occur? The President is an ex-Spacer. He'll want to know the details."

  "Shortly after midnight local time.” His answer made Jenni start, Rachael could feel her shock.

  "Do we have an exact time?” Jenni's question was sharp.

  "Twenty-seven minutes, and a few seconds, past the hour."

  Rachael thought back. She'd been with Jack in his room, arguing to be allowed to stay until at least 12.30 and had met Jenni in the corridor just before one.

  "You were up at the time,” she said, turning to Jenni. “Did you notice anything unusual?"

  "I was in my room viewing some research holograms,” Jenni said. “I doubt I'd have noticed anything."

  Rachael sensed she was telling the truth—almost—Jenni was too good a liar not to stick to truth whenever she could, but the sense of her fear had sharpened. Jenni was frightened b
y the timing, which meant she suspected the cause was related to something she'd done.

  "I'll deal with this as soon as you have the results of your tests.” Rachael took charge. Jenni's reaction would have to wait. “Format them with you conclusions. We must show the President our concerns are genuine."

  "I'll have them ready in ten minutes.” The comms officer nodded, about to turn away and leave.

  "Acknowledge receipt of the signal and say action is being taken immediately. No need to add anything about your tests unless they ask."

  He nodded and left.

  "Jenni, make my apologies to the others. I'll eat later.” Rachael fought down her satisfaction at having an excuse to see Jack immediately. “As soon as I have the test sheets, I'll walk to the President's quarters and discuss it with him. It's the quickest way. No need to bother with protocol.” She was anxious to be on her way, already considering the wisdom of changing her outfit to something more likely to draw the responses she craved.

  "Yes, Madam Ambassador.” Jenni nodded dutifully.

  "Call me Rachael. We're working too closely to need that nonsense.” The title had dulled more quickly than she imagined.

  "Very good, M ... Rachael."

  Jenni adjusted just in time, but Rachael still frowned—she'd just copied Jack again in dispensing with formality. Soon she'd be nothing but his mirror image.

  "I'll see you later,” she turned away and then paused, turning back. “Postpone all the routine stuff until this is sorted. Our masters must be impressed by our diligence.” She grinned, inviting companionship, and was pleased when Jenni responded, even if it was a touch uncertainly. Jenni's loyalty would be valuable.

  Fifteen minutes later, armed with the test reports from the comms room and satisfied her appearance would create the affect she wanted, Rachael left the compound, heading for the market and inn Jack used as a home. Lothar, the ex-priest was there to greet her. “The President sends his compliments and asks that you meet him at his flyer.” He held out his arm to indicate a gateway in the wall next to the inn and fell in beside her as she turned towards it.

  "Your spy system in our compound is very efficient,” she said, giving him a sly glance.

  "We all serve Feodar's World.” His response was dry. “You have nothing to fear from it."

  "As long as I serve Feodar's World?” She made it a question.

  "You have nothing to fear from it.” He repeated his words. “There is not one of us who wouldn't protect you with our lives.” His sincerity was palpable and Rachael felt her eyes go tight with tears.

  "Thank you. I pray it never comes to that.” She couldn't look at him lest her tears flow.

  "As do we.” His dryness steadied her, drawing a smile.

  They reached the gate and he ushered her through. “He's waiting for you in the cockpit."

  The turbo-jets at the wingtips were idling, ready for immediate takeoff, so she followed the marked footway to the rear of the cockpit.

  "Take the right-hand seat,” Jack said. “There's a schooner in trouble an hour away. I'm heading there to see what can be done."

  She brushed his cheek with her lips and strapped herself in, raising a hand, thumb up when she was ready.

  The aircraft leapt into the air, a measure of his urgency, and translated into level flight as soon as it was clear of the buildings, zooming upwards in a smooth curve at full power.

  "You've come about the satellites,” he said, turning his head as soon as he was satisfied with the flyer's heading.

  "You know about them?"

  He nodded. “Not all the university lecturers are ex-priests. I called in a few debts and we have a dozen top class technicians training our best students in modern technology. They've been monitoring the satellites for a while. Yesterday, when we were at the pavilion, they picked up these signals.” A hologram appeared in front of her, perfect miniatures of the group in the beach pavilion moving and talking without sound. “They're quite sophisticated, a composite of many wave bands.” He reached forward and twisted a control, zooming in on her face.

  "Behave yourself,” she heard herself say.

  Rachael gnawed her lower lip in chagrin. This was a gross violation of the Treaty. Any court, presented with this evidence would find in favor of Feodar's World. “What do you intend to do?” She didn't waste her time denying knowledge of the satellite cameras. She was the Ambassador and should have known.

  "Nothing. We've shut down the devices and disabled the self destruct mechanisms. The satellites will continue to function as weather beacons, but I cannot allow Federation technicians access.” Half Jack's attention was on the flyer until he turned to her. “I know you were unaware of the cameras. No blame attaches to you in anyone's mind, certainly not mine.” He smiled and turned back to his flying. “However, Jenni, your PA, received a copy of these images by courier last night and has viewed them. She's an agent of Internal Security."

  A storm front loomed on the horizon and the flyer banked as Jack took an avoidance course. “Tighten your seatbelt and attach the shoulder harness. This may get a little bumpy.” He pushed the throttle through emergency power gate and the machine leapt forwards zooming towards the heavens. “We'll try and go over it."

  Rachael was too busy obeying his instruction to think about anything else, making it just in time before the aircraft began an extravagant series of surges and slides through the troubled air. She wasn't afraid, her confidence in Jack was total, but her stomach was less sure.

  "Oxygen mask,” Jack said. “Press the green button. The antihistamine they used to quell their reaction to local nasties also suppresses the motion sickness."

  Feeling too uncomfortable to wonder how he'd guessed, Rachael followed his instructions and was thankful for the relief.

  "It won't allow more than two doses in the first hour, so don't waste it,” he warned, giving her a quick grin as he wrestled the controls.

  The view outside the aircraft was spectacular. St Elmo's fire was bathing the cockpit in a pale green glow and running along the control edges. It emphasized the flexing of the wings at each surge, making Rachael glance at Jack.

  "She was built for this type of flying.” Jack laughed. “Another few minutes and we'll be through."

  Circumstances made him an accurate prophet. The aircraft continued to bucket wildly for the specified time and then broke through into clear air, a sunlit sea far below. Jack eased back the throttles and the noise died to a whisper as the flyer settled into a long descent, exchanging altitude for speed as it headed for the highest peak on a distant mountainous isle.

  "The schooner's aground on the other side,” Jack said. “High tide has passed and she's likely to break her back as it falls. There are kids on board, going home from their first trip to the Treaty Port."

  "How old?"

  "You met one of them in the market. Their village is a poor one and I brought their families in to learn alternative sources of income like marketing craft goods and fish farming, gave all the kids a joyride in the flyer as a treat."

  It made Rachael smile. The President of Feodar's World giving joyrides to children, it sounded so typical of Jack. He'd make a marvelous father.

  "Keep your harness tight. The schooner's on the opposite side of the island and the quickest route is through the mountain passes. We'll push the Gees in several of the turns. Clench your stomach and leg muscles when it happens and you won't black out."

  The flyer was gaining speed all the time, the rate of descent meter steady as a rock while the air speed indicator and altimeter spun in different directions. The scream of the passing air increased and the wing above them started to vibrate, loose fitting rattling in the cabin, but Jack held his course. Rachael's teeth chattered as the vibration grew and she clamped her jaw shut to prevent it. She could sense Jack's concentration. He was using every piece of accumulated skill to shave seconds from their flight, driven by some urgency only he could feel.

  "The tide's falling faster becau
se the storm backed up the channel,” he said. “We have less time than I thought."

  She didn't question how he knew. Some observer was keeping him informed through the headset he wore and she could see his lips move as he replied, the sound of his voice lost in the background noise, yet she heard him clearly when he spoke to her.

  The plunge into the mountains was terrifying, the peaks seeming to leap at them as if intent of crushing the puny machine, but a last second tilt of its wings avoided the collision and it slipped past to follow a deep rift between the taller peaks. A sharp turn ahead seemed impossible until the flyer turned on its side and she felt herself ground into the seat by the momentum of the direction change, remembering to clench her muscles only when her vision began to narrow. They rounded the first turn, skimming the rock face of a sheer cliff and another was on them and escape seemed impossible, but Jack made it and even had time to give her a quick grin as he fought the controls.

  "You'd pay hundreds of credits for a ride like this in an amusement park."

  "I avoid amusement parks like the plague,” she managed, through gritted teeth as the flyer swung into another multi-gee turn and she tightened every muscle to keep the blood from leaving her brain. It worked well enough for her to hear his chuckle, and she almost hated him for being unaffected.

  "That's the last one,” he said, as the aircraft righted itself and pointed at the opening of the rift on the other side of the range. “I'm not sure I could have made it through any more."

  Rachael was distracted by the wild beauty of the vista opening before them. Monstrous cliffs dropped sheer into the water of fjords narrow enough to give the illusion the flyers’ wings would touch either side if it attempted to fly through them and isles like mountain peaks pierced the sea to form torturous channels.

  "Their village is at the head of that fjord,” he pointed. “They were taken aback by a wind gust at the entrance, caught the edge of an undersea ridge and couldn't work her free.” She could see the schooner in the distance, masts tilted at a dangerous angle. “The tidal rip makes it too hazardous for boats, but the top of the cliff is accessible and every spare man is assembling there. The crew's laying out all the cable they have. We'll try and connect her to the cliff top, both to hold her in place and to support a breeches buoy to transfer the passengers ashore."