Rachel's Return

by Amy Gallow

  Jack, the pragmatist, shook his head. To him it didn't matter how the world was created. He existed. It existed. He was content to leave speculation to Peter and Jean-Paul.

  Don't do that. Jean-Paul was in his mind. It affects Rachael.

  "How?"

  "When Feodar swapped with Gabrielle, Peter thought his life expectancy would drop to normal, just as Peter's and Gabrielle's were extended, by the differing time streams. It didn't happen, for he lived some seven hundred years after the swap, and one theory connects it to his telepathy. Some of the Elite still retained vestiges of it for several generations so he had some communication with them. As the bloodlines weakened, it did too and the natural life span of the Pontiffs shortened. D'feodar is less than a hundred years old."

  Jack nodded. His pre-mission briefing had covered the succession of Pontiff's and their degenerating telepathic ability. He hadn't noticed the correlation to their longevity before.

  "My wanderings brought me into contact with other groups who claimed telepathic powers, mostly charlatans, but there were some genuine cases. None at our level, but all possessing latent ability and feeding of each other to increase them. I had to be very careful with them.” Jean-Paul smiled. “Some had made it a religion and resented intruders.” Religious groups were always dangerous. Dogma replaced logic and they resented anything challenging it. “I noted the interesting correlation, with the more adept living longer, but discounted it for other factors until I came across the Viridians.

  "Their sector was never explored. The scout ship assigned to it was one of the early casualties. They are a race of functioning telepaths where social progression is determined by tests of their powers. The population is divided geographically into four main areas and the southern Tetrarch is approaching our level and is three thousand years old."

  "They haven't discovered Limbo.” Jack made the obvious deduction. In three thousand years they'd have swarmed through the known universe

  "No, but some space pirates blundered into their way and they're investigating the technology. Peter wants me to keep an eye on them."

  "How...” Jack stopped, remembering Peter's words about Feodar being a better example. If telepathy was linked to life expectancy, Rachael could expect to match Gabrielle.

  Now you understand. Jean-Paul's grin was incandescent. I can leave with a clear conscience. Name the first boy after me. He was gone.

  "Mr. President?” It was his next appointment.

  "Yes. Come in and take a seat.” Jack beamed at the man. “How can I help you?"

  * * * *

  Rachael woke refreshed. Her return to the Treaty Port and Federation compound had the quality of a nightmare—too bad to be believed. It felt great to wake and feel alone, her mind not bombarded by other's thoughts.

  Good morning. It was Jack.

  Where are you?

  In my office. I fell asleep here last night. She could hear his chuckle in her mind. Word had passed around about your exploits on the island and everyone wanted to congratulate you. I said you weren't available until you'd rested, so they came to me instead. If we held an election tomorrow, I think you'd win in a land slide.

  What's the pay like? I might think about it. She felt great.

  Lousy and the hours are endless.

  You're just saying that to put me off. She laughed aloud He felt close.

  A gentle tapping on the door warned her. “Yes?” She spoke aloud, the word sounding hollow in her ears.

  "May I come in?” It was Jenni.

  Bye, love. Catch you later. Jack was gone.

  "Yes.” She was glad he'd gone; handling thoughts and words at the same time was beyond her.

  "Are you ready of breakfast?” Jenni only half entered the room, pausing half in and half out the door.

  "What time is it?” Rachael was facing the wrong way to see her bedside clock.

  "Just a little before eight.” God, she's beautiful ... , Jenni's thoughts ran on to imagine things Rachael found startling, proving how much words slowed communication by compressing a seduction and orgasm into the half second it took her to reply.

  "You go ahead and save a seat for me in the canteen.” The tenor of Jenni's imaginings made Rachael reluctant to lower the bedclothes.

  "Right.” Jenni paused a half second and Rachael's hands tightened on the sheet, jerking it a little higher to hide her nipple in a convulsive response to the direction of Jenni's musing. “Are you sure, you shouldn't rest a little longer?"

  "No.” It was hard to separate Jenni's imagination from her intentions, but the pictures running through her mind were too detailed for comfort and involved both of them in this bed. “You go ahead, I'll join you as soon as I've dressed."

  Jenni closed the door and disappeared, but Rachael could feel her retreating thoughts. She closed her mind with an effort of will, blanking Jenni out.

  Jack had named Jenni an agent of Internal Security and he wouldn't be guessing. It raised an interesting question. Were thoughts like words? Did they come and fade, the same as sounds, or did they leave a trace that could be followed backwards into memories. Had Jack, or one of the other, caught Jenni's thoughts as they happened, or followed them back into her mind and scanned her memories.

  She was surprised to find she'd dressed unconsciously in the midst of this and was standing at her door.

  Breakfast. She still needed to eat.

  Jenni was watching the door into the canteen and Rachael felt her recognition and saw her raised arm. She responded with a casual wave and headed direct to the bain-marie. The chef saw her coming and she felt the warmth of his regard. He was proud of his Feodar's World heritage and of her.

  The mind filter was working, general impressions flowed through, but, unless she focused on the individual, specific thoughts didn't. The general consensus of the room was admiration for the way she was handling the situation, particularly her calmness in taking a ten-hour break for sleep. No one realized how exhausted she'd been by the rescue and its aftermath. One thread was apparent. They were all concerned for their future and equally divided between those who saw it exclusively within the Federation or here on this planet. The longer the individual had been here, the more he, or she, considered it their home. Many wanted to move out of the compound, now that Jack was modernizing the local environment. No one feared this world's inhabitants now the Pontiff was gone.

  Jack had made a great start.

  She thanked the chef and took her plate, the food tastefully arranged and served direct from the stove—a rare privilege.

  On the way to her table she paused with the administrative head of the compound. “Please advise all off-duty personnel I would like to say a few words in here after breakfast,” she glanced at the wall clock. “Would nine-thirty be a good time?” Caught with his mouth full, he nodded, and she continued her way to the chair Jenni had reserved.

  "Good morning,” Jenni had remembered her instructions and they were at a different table, so introductions took precedence to eating for the first few minutes and it wasn't until the first one rose to leave that Rachael remembered. “I'm going to say a few words at nine-thirty. I'd be grateful if you were here."

  Nods all round responded and Jenni looked a question. “I'll explain when everyone can hear,” Rachael said. “It's merely to keep everyone up to date with what's happened."

  The administrative head left the room and a PA announcement followed, causing heads to turn to Rachael. She smiled encouragingly and continued eating.

  By nine-thirty, everyone had finished eating and the canteen, the largest area in the compound, was full. Rachael rose from her chair, kicked off her shoes, and, with Jenni's assistance climbed onto their table so everyone could see her. Having enquired and been assured that everyone could hear, she was ready to progress the plan formed on the flight back to the Treaty Port.

  "I returned to Feodar's World hoping for a quiet time, in which I could feel my way into a new role. It hasn't happened.” The titter of laug
hter came as she expected. “From the information available to me, it seems, Internal Security, whom we all love and respect,” she milked more laughter from them. “Have exceeded their brief and undertaken an external operation for an undisclosed purpose and been caught red-handed.” She shook her head theatrically. “The President, who is aware of far more of the internal workings of the Federation than is entirely comfortable for me, has irrefutable evidence of this and I will pass it on to the appropriate authorities later today when their courier arrives. He has asked me to assure all of you he has no intention of breaking ties with the Federation. However, in the unlikely event that he did, he has promised that any of you who wish to stay will be welcomed with full citizenship.” A delighted buzz answered the statement and Rachael gave them time to think about it.

  "Like the President, I do not anticipate things going that far.” She smiled at them. “If it did, my career in the diplomatic service would be the shortest on record.” More laughter and a ripple of quips. “Please continue your duties on the assumption I will advise you of any changes as soon as I learn them.” The applause was genuine as she stepped down and sat to put on her shoes.

  She could feel Jenni's fear before she looked up and was careful to make her smile warm and friendly. “I think we'll slip out and give them the freedom to discuss this."

  Jenni nodded and they left the canteen.

  "I'm going to see the President,” Rachael needed Jack. This mind to mind contact had its limitations. “He promised me proof of Internal Security's meddling. I want you to prepare a timeline of events since we received the request for access. Leave my activities blank until I get back with the proof, but include the comms report about the base load changes."

  Jenni nodded, but her mind was captured by the curve of Rachael's lower lip, her imagination leaping forward to the sensation of capturing it between her teeth and Rachael had to hurriedly block out her thoughts.

  She's doing it deliberately. Jack was there. It's part of her survival strategy. A believable explanation why she chose to risk her career with a new Ambassador. She's convincing herself so she can convince others it was simple lust.

  Rachael remembered her suspicions the morning after the pavilion dinner and had difficulty hiding her thoughts. She was grateful when Jenni turned away and left so she could go her own way to the side exit she'd used before.

  I'm coming to see you, she sent, demanding Jack's attention. Jenni's thoughts had triggered her own needs.

  I know. She could feel his smile.

  It may be wise to ensure privacy before I reach you, she made it a deliberate communication. I'm beset by a sudden insatiable curiosity about the effect of telepathy on certain interpersonal activities. She experienced his picture of what she had in mind and was satisfied she'd communicated well. It was exciting enough to make walking normally difficult and she was glad the canteen was well behind her.

  Her progress to the inn became a parade. It began with broad smiles surrounding her as shouts of recognition turned heads and grew to be a moving crowd with her in the center, a pathway opening before her and closing behind. The innkeeper greeted her at his door and Jack was waiting at the head of the stairs leading to his rooms.

  At his insistence, they stood at the balcony of the roof garden, acknowledging the cheers from below, which doubled when he mimed kneeling before her and proposing. Trapped into responding, she could do nothing but nod vigorously, threatening him with dire consequences privately as she kissed him publicly.

  The aftermath, in his bedroom, was everything she ever dreamed of, and only the beginning of forever.

  The End

  * * *

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