Rachel's Return

by Amy Gallow

  "All the more reason to keep alert.” He was smiling. “You've done a good job here. It was a pity about the fisherman, but he died gently in the end and the men who did it will never kill again, so he achieved something worthwhile. It's time to join Dael.” He held out his hand and led her through the portal to the beach camp.

  * * * *

  Helene moved awkwardly, the final month of her pregnancy seeming to take forever, but she had duties which wouldn't wait. Her new hospital was taking its first patients today and she must be there. Kamran had accepted her word their child would not be arriving for at least a week and was off on one of his tours of inspection, using the Federation-supplied flyer. Beyorn, the Westlander, had been appointed Federation Ambassador and was joining her at the hospital.

  She wasn't Queen Helene, they lived in a Commonwealth, not a kingdom, and her High Born bloodline meant nothing now. Not that there were many High Born left. The peasants had hung them before Kamran's iron disciplined troops could intervene in most cases. The others had been tried and executed by the new courts, she herself had faced. Only Kamran's quoting of an old military custom had saved her from the noose.

  His swift march to Valentia had been pointless. The news had preceded him and the peasants hung Fleur d'Gracay and her brother-in-law, the former High Sheriff from the battlements of the Keep, along with every other High Born they found. The pattern repeated itself endlessly until all the principalities were his and he sent his levy men back to their farms and began to build a standing army of volunteers.

  When the Federation Treaty was signed, Kamran's army became road builders as well as soldiers and law men, extending the benefits as rapidly as he could to consolidate his gains. Helene's work with the sick, aided by Federation doctors and medicines, began to bear fruit and she built her first hospital, opening it ten days before their wedding. They'd planned a quiet affair, but word got round and the country celebrated for three days—a measure of their popularity.

  Today's opening raised the number of her hospitals to ten

  Beyorn had company when they met at the hospital entrance, a tall man with an interesting face and commanding appearance. “Helene, this is Peter. He sent me to the Federation with the proposal to support Kamran."

  "You're with the Federation?” She liked him instinctively.

  "Not quite.” He seemed amused. “I do business with them occasionally."

  "Where do you come from?” This was an off-worlder.

  "My world has no official name, beyond a jumble of letters and numbers defining its location, so I think of it as home, my personal Xanadu."

  The name triggered a memory. “Does it have a pleasure dome?"

  "You're thinking of the planet in the Albion sector. The scout ship commander who explored there had a penchant for the poems of ancient Earth. In Xanadu, did Kublai Khan, a stately pleasure dome decree, is the quotation.” Peter was smiling. “It's written over the entrance of Xanadu's most famous brothel. The man, or woman, who can describe, or perform, a sex act they don't provide, has its services free for a year. Every freebooter, pirate and mercenary in the galaxy visits Xanadu, even the Federation has shares there."

  "Kamran has been there?” Helene was amused. Her husband was in for an uncomfortable time when he returned, all in fun of course. He gave her few opportunities to tease.

  "You have a new patient.” Beyorn was looking at a figure stumbling drunkenly towards the hospital. “He looks in a bad way.” He was talking to empty air, because Helene was running towards the newcomer, Peter passing her and reaching the man as he fell.

  Peter knelt, supporting his head, while Helene examined him. “He's come a long way.” Peter's voice was mild. “The style of his jacket is from the other side of the ocean."

  "Kamran,” the man muttered. “I must see Kamran."

  "I am Helene. My husband is away."

  "The High Born follow. They have a fleet. I was sent ahead to warn him."

  "Where will they land?” Beyorn had joined them.

  "Here. They know this is his capital.” The man had gathered strength from some deep well, for Helene could see he was dying. “Warn him. My people wait for liberation. When he comes, they will rise."

  "The flyer has a radio. I'll let him know.” Beyorn was already running. “He can reconnoiter the fleet on his way back. It's got the range.” He saw the solid figure of Dirk, Kamran's 2IC on the ramparts. “To arms, Dirk. Sound the Levy bell. Close the water gate."

  Peter looked up from the dying man. “I see Beyorn's loyalties are settled.” He was smiling. The man in his arms stirred and he looked down again and his voice was gentle. “You can let go, friend. Your job is done."

  A moment later, he closed the dead man's eyes and lowered him to the ground. “So too is mine. Tell Beyorn I said goodbye."

  Helene nodded and watched him stride away until he disappeared into the forest. Only then did she turn and make her way awkwardly back to her hospital. It would have patients soon.

  Chapter Twelve

  Thanatos felt a hundred years ago to Rachael. Anneke, she remembered vividly, the rest lay on the other side of the usual aftermath of a botched job, post mission therapy, and took a conscious effort to recall.

  Yet it made sense of many things.

  The longer she'd stayed in Anneke's company, the more visions her mind had seen and their escape from the smuggler's warehouse had the same feel as her work at the flyer's winch controls, the same instantaneous understanding of another's mind. The company of telepaths triggered her own ability. It had woken again when she met Jack at the fish farm and grown ever since, the gathering at the pavilion another leap forward.

  Jack must have suppressed his ability to fool the Pontiff. She'd felt nothing at the temple when they first met and the Pontiff's telepathy was so rudimentary it hadn't affected her at all.

  What about your dream?

  Jack had been following her thoughts.

  "What dream?” She was still more comfortable with normal speech.

  "That will change in time.” Jack was smiling. “You dreamed my encounter with the shark as it was happening. I was using passive scanning to monitor its movements and it triggered your mind.” He reinforced his words with his memories and they triggered hers, a demonstration of how completely telepaths communicated, and her reaction made him smile. “Peter and Gabrielle remain more comfortable in ‘talking’ mind to mind. For the rest of us, physical speech was a second language we had to learn as children.” He laughed at some communication she didn't sense. “As always, Karrel was the exception,” and Rachael experienced Karrel's need to communicate to Samara and Torred when Peter was snatched back to Earth by the process of dying.

  Slow down, Jack. Dael intervened. You're exhausting Rachael. Keep it simple until she grows accustomed to us. Rachael felt his grandmother's warmth surround her. Forgive him, Rachael.

  "Of course,” she spoke aloud, and then remembered.

  Don't worry, the thought and the words are one to us, and I know you love him. Dael answered the unspoken part of Rachael's reply as well as her words.

  Rachael was aware of a half sensed flow of communication around her as individuals focused on individuals and communicated privately, a facility not impeded by distance. She tried it, focusing not on the Jack she could see, but on her sense of him in her mind. I love you.

  The visible Jack turned, his delight showing plainly. Bravo, my love. That was very well done. We don't usually do it in a group like this, but they don't want to swamp you this early.

  I've got a lot to learn. Rachael was keeping it private. I need a cuddle.

  Jack laughed and crossed the distance between them his arms open.

  Later, she sat with Gabrielle while they freed the schooner from the rocks at high tide and it sailed slowly up the fjord to the sheltered harbor of the village, a full sail keeping it afloat.

  Gabrielle was the legendary commander of the scout ship which brought instantaneous travel through a non p
hysical universe to humanity, a fact Rachael had difficulty in accepting, but, more importantly, she had gone through the same transition as Rachael, from latent to fully functional telepathy. They communicated for hours, discussing the ramifications of returning to an environment where telepathy wasn't normal.

  I decided instinctively against continuing the voyage, which surprised Peter, but he agreed with me once he understood my concerns. Gabrielle's smile was fond and Rachael shared her love for Jack's grandfather. He insisted I discuss it with the Chief Engineer, Cedric Brown, the only one of the crew who would understand. It was the best thing I did, but I doubt you'll find his like in the Federation. She'd already shared her memories of the scout ship's approach to Feodar's World and her swap with Feodar into this time frame. You'll have to go it alone and make your own decisions. In the meantime, there are some practical concerns. Gabrielle's smile was reassurance in itself. How do you sense us?

  Rachael closed her eyes to cut out visual distractions. Gabrielle, Jack, and the rest of the family were beacons in her mind. She could place them physically to her and each other. The other minds were dimmer, she had to focus to identify them and their thoughts came through in a muddled flow.

  Dael, I need your help. Gabrielle's request held a hint of laughter. Your filter is still in place.

  Sorry, Rachael. I forgot. Dael was in her mind. Jack asked me to help when the babble in the canteen was deafening you. Rachael remembered her sense of Dael's presence and the diminution of “noise” she'd experienced. I reversed the filter we use when on operations and persuaded your subconscious to accept it while you were distracted by the food. This is how it's undone. She stepped Rachael through the process and the “noise” level grew alarmingly. You'll need to do it consciously for a while, but it becomes second nature eventually.

  Rachael reversed the process, taking control of it, and the “noise” died.

  One more thing. It was Gabrielle. Focus on the village headman. What do you sense?

  Rachael experienced a muddle of thoughts she had to struggle to decipher.

  Good. Loosen your focus until the details blur.

  Rachael struggled to obey what seemed an illogical suggestion and was surprised when the headman's thought patterns smoothed out and became understandable.

  That's it. Gabrielle was triumphant. It allows your mind the freedom to translate his thoughts into familiar structures.

  The learning process continued, hours slipping by as Gabrielle, Dael and Anneke cooperated to teach and instruct. Then, suddenly, with an abruptness that caught her by surprise, it was over and Jack was approaching. “Time to go.” He'd landed the flyer after using it to beach the schooner high enough to allow repairs at low tide in the sheltered harbor of the village.

  Rachael embraced each of his family in turn. The physical contact was her reassurance and they indulged her need.

  Goodbye. See you soon.” It was a chorus and they stood waving as the flyer lifted into the air and translated to horizontal flight.

  "I called the embassy while you were in conclave with Gabrielle,” Jack said. “They're expecting you."

  Gabrielle's advice had been to stick to physical speech until Rachael became accustomed to handling both simultaneously.

  "I'm afraid,” she said. “The change is too big and it frightens me."

  Among Jack's family, she felt safe, understanding instinctively their warmth and concern for her well-being. Soon she would enter a world where too much of its ugliness was on show, revealed by her ability to pierce the polite shield of speech and see the thoughts lurking behind. She was thankful Jack was taking the long way home, eschewing the mountains for coast-hopping around scenic headlands and deep bays. It was breath-taking, soothing, and it allowed her to gather the reserves of courage she needed. Her only problem was the thirty hours between her and her last sleep. Dusk was a memory and Jack would have to break the rules about night flying near the portal.

  "We need to talk.” Jack cleared the last headland and set the auto-pilot for the Treaty Port. “This is what I know of Internal Security's plans.” Jack took the shortcut of sharing mind to mind, holding nothing back, so Rachael experienced the First Family's command of Limbo and its power. I'm learning to reach it without help, so will you. Jack felt like a boy with a new toy.

  This is how Peter wants it handled. He went on and explained each step of the plan. It will give Internal Security pause and buy us time.

  Rachael nodded her understanding. It was brilliant, a perfect example of a First Family coup, utilizing internal schisms to achieve much.

  "You ready?"

  She could feel Jack's love and nodded again. The flyer, soared upwards and gained speed.

  * * * *

  Jenni watched Rachael descend the steps at the rear of the flyer. The radio message had given her time to be waiting and her fear made it imperative. Internal Security had put two and two together about its supply of the camera images and the failure of the satellite equipment and she'd endured a twenty minute grilling in the secure cabinet before destroying every vestige of evidence, hologram discs and courier receipts included. Internal Security would deal with the records off-planet. Her job now was to find out what her boss knew.

  Rachael looked tired. The details of the rescue and her part in it were common knowledge, word of mouth supplementing the radio broadcasts from the island, and a crowd had gathered to welcome the flyer. A pause at the top of the step, as if bracing herself, and then Rachael came down, head up and smiling, acknowledging the cheers with a wave of her hand. The President followed her and they stood together for a moment before separating, Rachael walking towards the embassy group and the President heading towards his quarters in the inn.

  "Good evening, Rachael.” Jenni stepped forward. “These are the most urgent messages needing your attention.” She extended the sheaf of flimsies. “They all relate to the satellites."

  "Reply, saying access is denied. Maintenance is now a local responsibility and all departments should be advised accordingly.” Rachael's response was short. She'd been embarrassed and was angry, Jenni guessed.

  "Should I include the reasons given.” The opportunity to learn more was too tempting.

  "Treaty violation. The use of non-treaty surveillance equipment. The President advises further violations will endanger the Treaty and force him to revoke all trading licenses.” Rachael had obviously endured a torrid period of her own.

  "You need rest,” Jenni wanted to wrap Rachael in her arms and support her physically. She looked like nervous energy alone was holding her upright. “I'll deal with this. A shower and eight hours sleep will make you feel better."

  Rachael looked at her sharply, as if considering her motives, and then nodded. “Thank you, I do need rest.” She turned and gave the other members of the welcoming party the same considering look before turning and leading the way towards the compound.

  Jenni followed, hovering close in case she was needed.

  An hour later, with Rachael showered and sleeping, the messages sent and acknowledged, Jenni sat in her room, considering her options.

  The shutdown of the satellite cameras had stirred the pot and the President's response, relayed through Rachael, would send everyone scuttling for their hidey-holes. He not only knew about the cameras, he had the technology to disable them and the self destruct circuits. Coming immediately after their use to monitor the gathering at the beach pavilion, there could be no doubt the Internal Security operation was compromised. All that remained now was the decision of who to sacrifice.

  It was now dangerous that a prima facie case existed of the use of the undetectable portals by the First Family to spy, either on her, or at some point along the Internal Security line of command, and the head of internal security would do everything possible to hide their existence, even if it meant closing the file completely. Any suspicion he'd been attempting to gain their use exclusively for Internal Security would be his death knell. For the moment, his sole pu
rpose would be survival.

  Where did this leave her and could she escape the fall-out of this disastrously compromised mission?

  Rachael would be her touchstone. If Internal Security's role in her appointment came out, she would be replaced and suspicion would fall on Jenni. It depended on the portals. If their existence was revealed, the probe would run deep enough to sweep her into the pot with the rest. Without them, it could be seen as the Head of Internal Security over-reaching himself in an excess of zeal. The Comms people here had detected the shutdown from the power drop and it technically feasible for the locals to have done the same. It could pass examination. Rachael's debriefing from Thanatos had revealed indications of mental instability—visions and the like. It could discredit her version of the departure of the Pontiff and hide the portals from the main councils of the Federation.

  Jenny crossed her fingers.

  The best she could hope for was to be cast adrift. All her missions for Internal Security had been clandestine. There was no official record of her existence beyond her surface role as a Personal Assistant. Her record was good, provided she could explain the apparent madness of accepting a position with Rachael, a brand new Ambassador with few prospects for advancement.

  Jenni smiled. She knew exactly how it could be done.

  * * * *

  Jack dealt with the administrative details of the day, attended meetings and listened to the usual run of problems. He was tired, but once he felt Rachael drift into restful sleep, he felt better.

  "Hi.” Jean-Paul stepped out of Limbo, fortunately into an empty office.

  "Hi, yourself."

  "Peter's sending me off again. Said I was getting underfoot too much. I've come to say goodbye."

  "Don't tell me he's roped you in at last. You always said the Federation was an irrelevance.” Jack was surprised. Jean-Paul's independence was deep rooted.

  "They still are.” Jean-Paul was smiling. “Peter needed something to push against.” He was the only one who accepted completely Peter's creation of this world and all it consequences. “I came across some odd things in my travels. I needed to discuss them with Peter. They turn some of his theories on their head."