The Alliance

by David Andrews

  The view outside the aircraft looked spectacular. St Elmo’s fire bathed the cockpit in a pale green glow and ran 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.”

  Rachael smiled. The president of Feodar’s World giving joyrides to children, 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 gained 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 sensed Jack’s concentration. He used every piece of accumulated skill to shave seconds from their flight, driven by some urgency only he felt.

  “The tide’s falling faster because the storm backed up the channel,” he said. “We have less time than I thought.”

  She didn’t question how he knew. Some observer kept him informed through the headset he wore and she saw 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 leaped at them as if intent of crushing the puny machine, but a last second tilt of its wings avoided the collision. 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-g 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.”

  The wild beauty of the vista opening before them distracted Rachael. 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 saw 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.”

  They reached the schooner and translated to a hover two hundred feet above the water, the aircraft buffeted by wind gusts ricocheting of the cliff. The boat lay on her side, water lapping the edge of her deck and her people in a crowd on the high side. Coils of rope lay lashed at the foot of each mast and a figure she recognized as the skipper who’d coached her in singing a bawdy song on the first night, waved his arms.

  Jack flicked a switch on the control panel and an external speaker gave a boom of sound. “I’m lowering a cable. Attach it to the mainmast rope and I’ll lift it to the cliff top.” A wave acknowledged his instruction and a half-dozen figures broke from the crowd and slithered down the deck.

  “Get out of your harness. There’s a winch panel below the galley. Open it and the winch will deploy beneath the aircraft giving you a clear line of sight. The controls are clearly marked with symbols. Lower the hook until it brushes the water and discharges any static build-up, then hold it at that and I’ll maneuver to put it in the right place.” His confidence in her ability gave Rachael the boost to obey, yet the next hour tried her nerves to the utmost as Jack achieved feats of airmanship she would have thought impossible.

  At the end, twin cables linked the schooner to the cliff top, preventing any increase in her list and a third cable from her stern supported a breeches buoy transfer system ferrying passengers to the cliff top. Two Spanish windlasses improved the ship’s condition by means of the supporting cables on the cliff top and Rachael felt certain she recognized Peter and Karrel, Jack’s father, leading the work there.

  “The family was on the way home,” Jack said. “They heard what was happening and detoured to lend a hand. Jean-Paul and the girls are dealing with the injured.”

  Caught up in the tempo of events, Rachael didn’t question the aptness of his comment, but a small part of her mind added it to her store of oddities.

  “There’s a clear spot two hundred yards back.” Jack pointed. “We’ll land and check how things are going.”

  “Yes. I might be able to help.”

  “They’ll be pleased to see you. Your work on the winch attracted attention.”

  Jack’s original intention of maneuvering the hook with the flyer alone had proved impossible and they’d had to work together in taking up the strain more times than not. It had been exhausting, requiring absolute concentration and instant communication, but oddly exhilarating and, at the same time, imbued with the strongest sense of déjà vu—as if she’d worked in tandem like this before.

  “Strap in for landing.” He grinned at her. “It will be rougher than it looks.”

  She grinned back. “Another of your promises?”

  “You should complain to the authorities.”

  “You are the authorities.”

  “Your complaint is noted.”

  They both laughed, pleased with their success and themselves.

  Apart from those attending the injured or securing the schooner, everyone rushed toward the flyer as soon as it landed, greeting them not as president and ambassador, but as personal heroes, reposing in them a trust Rachael knew she would never willingly betray. Her days with the Federation were numbered. Given the choice between these people and the Federation, she must choose them.

  She felt herself lifted and borne on willing shoulders.

  “Food,” someone called.

  “Wine,” another answered.

  “Gather wood for a fire. The sailing master says we’ve lightened his ship enough. We’ll build a wind break and wait till the high tide comes to save the schooner,” the mayor of the village deci
ded. “You three,” he selected three teenage boys. “Run back to the village and have them bring carts for the injured. Load all the spare food. We’ll feast the night away to celebrate the deliverance of our children. Hurry.”

  The boys fled, cheered on as they ran.

  “Let them down,” he instructed the four carrying Rachael and Jack. “I want to thank them for my grandchildren’s lives.”

  Rachael’s feet no sooner hit the ground than she found herself enveloped in a hug threatening to cave her ribs. She had no choice but to give up breathing until it ended.

  The mayor moved on to Jack and said “Ask anything of me and it is yours.”

  Rachael felt his sincerity and her throat tightened, making speech impossible. She could only nod. The warm tide of gratitude flowing from everyone overwhelmed her.

  “My friends,” Jack spoke, commanding silence by doing so. “We feel fortunate to have been of service, but nothing could have been achieved without everyone doing what was necessary. You answered the call, just as we did. If we are heroes, so are you. Always remember. Together, we can perform miracles.”

  A roar of approval answered him.

  “He’s learning.” Peter stood at her side. “You did well.” His eyes probed hers. “This hero business is over-rated. Drink this.” He handed her a raffia wrapped bottle. “It’s a bit raw at the edges, but it will soothe your throat.”

  Rachael took the bottle, suddenly aware of how dry her throat was, and drank deeply. The wine tasted rich, the bite of the alcohol concealed until it reached her stomach, generating the warmth to dispel the after-effects of her fear.

  “Thank you,” she said, about to hand it back.

  “Keep it,” Peter said. “I’ve got one of my own and one for my grandson as well. There’ll be no more flying tonight.”

  Jack took his bottle and drank, pausing after the first mouthful to ask, “Torred’s?”

  “There’s a few left.” Peter said. “You can still taste the rum of his casks.”

  Rachael felt the warmth of their memories of a long-dead friend, picturing a stocky dark-haired seaman with a merry smile and joined their silent toast. The wine tasted strong and her stomach empty, inducing the strangest thoughts.

  How could she know what Torred looked like…or Samara, his wife, Dael’s last host?

  She looked around. A dozen people spoke at once, but none of their lips moved. She knew what Dael, Gabrielle, and Anneke were doing without seeing them and they were aware of her thoughts.

  A terrifying idea slipped into her mind, connecting the incidents of the day into an unbelievable whole….

  “Have another drink,” Dael suggested. “It will help.”

  “I will,” Rachael spoke aloud, but neither Jack nor Peter was surprised. They, too, shared her thoughts.

  “Dael’s right,” Peter said. “She usually is.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Dael’s thought was full of laughter and love.

  The enormity sank into Rachael’s mind. She was either insane or had become telepathic, sensing other thoughts and communicating the same way. Every event of the day explained. She’d been reading thoughts as well as expressions without realizing it.

  “What have you done to me?” She turned to face Jack.

  “Nothing. You are as you always were. Anneke recognized it on Thanatos without realizing it.”

  “Thanatos?” Rachael shuddered as a door opened in her mind and she remembered the scaffold.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It wasn’t just Thanatos. The Federation routinely resorted to deep hypnosis therapy in the aftermath of a botched mission and Rachael had been involved in more than her fair share of those. Every editing of her memory rolled back, leaving a deep sense of betrayal—a stark contrast to the support she could feel from Jack and the others, particularly Gabrielle.

  They understood everything and made no judgments as her mind made connections previously hidden by her conditioning.

  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 still felt more comfortable with normal speech.

  “That will change in time.” Jack smiled. “You dreamed my encounter with the shark as it happened. I used 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.”

  Rachael experienced Karrel’s need to communicate to Samara and Torred when the process of dying snatched Peter back to Earth

  “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 saw, but on her sense of him in her mind. “I love you.”

  The visible Jack turned, his delight showing plainly. “Bravo, my love. You did that very well. 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 kept 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. It sailed slowly up the fjord to the sheltered harbor of the village, a spare sail passed under the hull keeping it afloat.

  Gabrielle was the legendary commander of the scout ship, which brought instantaneous travel through a non-physical universe to humanity, a fact Rachael had difficulty 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 mudd
led 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 the food distracted you. 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.” Gabrielle spoke in her mind. “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 surprised her, it ended, and Jack approached. “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.” They chorused and 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.