The Alliance (25 page)

It was awkward and uncomfortable, but she didn’t care. Her need was too desperate. She kissed as if there were no tomorrow, fumbled at the fastenings of his clothes and tried to force herself into the same space he occupied. Jack cooperated more calmly, facilitating rather than leading and this heightened Rachael’s desperation. She must ignite his passion or fail.

They’d embarked on madness, nothing less would justify it.

* * * *

“She’s right.”
Jack would have spoken aloud if Rachael’s lips weren’t in the way. “
It is madness. She doesn’t understand how much.”

A year of full use had sharpened his senses. Only one other full telepath lived on this planet and they communicated freely now that the Pontiff had left. Anneke, Peter, Dael, and his parents dropped in frequently, usually not materializing, sharing his memories, and giving valuable advice and comfort, each visit sharpening facilities dulled by years of undercover work. He’d followed Rachael’s thoughts so effortlessly since she arrived; he’d even mixed them with their other forms of communication and had to cover his slips. He was more careful now, but his feelings made it easier to forget.

Anneke had warned him. “Fall in love with a commoner and it becomes very difficult. Their thoughts become so much part of yours that you forget it’s only one-way. Your father was lucky. Gabrielle was a latent telepath and needed only exposure to develop. Try to change a commoner without a latent ability and it will destroy them. They’re not ready for it. Most of them would be insane within days. We have to wait until the race develops further.” He had to respect her advice. Jack had been away when Jesse died, but he still remembered her grief and how guilty she’d been about its secret element of relief.

“He’s not responding.”
The wail of despair in Rachael’s mind brought him back to the present and he reassured her with action, carrying them closer to the point of no return while part of his mind searched for an answer. He could delay consummation only so long and his body began to respond mindlessly. Soon it would take charge and his reluctance to allow her to be hurt would commit them.

“I love him so much.”
Rachael’s mind was clear.

Jack acknowledged the truth in her thought. Somewhere along the way, she’d fallen in love and he suspected it would become mutual all too easily. There was no more severe a test of character than how a person responded to a hangover and Rachael had passed it with flying colors. No recriminations, no vain promises, just acceptance, and stoic endurance until relief came with the oxygen. Even then, she’d blamed no one but herself for the lapse.

She would be very easy to love.

* * * *

Rachael sensed him take charge, moving from unconvincing participant to leader, and exulted in her victory.

He was hers irrevocably.

The feeling was so strong it didn’t occur to her to question it. She sensed his commitment as surely as if he’d spoken it aloud. Her surety might have puzzled her, if so many other sensations hadn’t crowded it out of her mind.

Jack was the lover she’d dreamed, so intimately attuned, it was as if he was in her mind, feeling exactly what she felt, knowing her every need and meeting it perfectly. She soared beyond her previous bounds. Reaching for the heavens as he triggered responses she’d never known existed and she rode the whirlwind into the sky. The first climax preceded a series, each one following the other until she was no longer sure it wasn’t continuous. When exhaustion claimed her, she sank onto his chest, too spent to do more.

She could feel him ready within her, waiting patiently for her recovery, and wondered at his self-control, a little jealous and vaguely disappointed the experience had not been so climatic for him.

A rumble of suppressed laughter transmitted itself from his chest to hers and she managed to find the strength to lift her upper body so she could see his face.

“What’s so funny?”

“I just feel good. It’s been a long time.”

“Not long enough by the feel of things.” She moved on the flesh impaling her body, triggering sensations she’d thought sated and gnawing her lower lip at how close to pain ecstasy could be.

“If you insist.” He guided her through the difficulties of changing places on the narrow bed formed by the fully reclined pilot’s seat, managing it without breaking the conjunction of their flesh and bringing her to full readiness in the process.

This time he tapped the darker side of her sexuality, holding her prisoner with guile rather than physical restraints, awakening an untapped source of pleasure and reinforcing her need with ecstasy. This man was the devil incarnate, delving into her secret thoughts and turning them real.

Rachael exploded, shattering into a million shards and scattered to an unfeeling universe that flung them back, coalescing into herself just in time to ride the convulsion of his release into paradise again.

Jack walked back from the Federation compound deep in thought. He’d coaxed an unwilling Rachael to leave the ship only by the need to conceal their relationship from the Federation for a little longer. She’d agreed with a flattering reluctance, extracting promises he’d find hard to keep. Fortunately, he knew these were her way of punishing him for being right. Dael’s gentle healing was at work.

His grandmother had used Rachael’s intoxication the first night to enter her mind and tease free the linkage of certain memories, an exorcism of their destructive power, to liberate Rachael’s natural recuperative powers. It was no instant cure. Rachael would never consciously recognize the change, but now she could heal herself.

Dael had been pleased. He’d felt her secret smile when she’d left him to carry a drunken Rachael back to the compound last night. “
You can look after her now.”
Her tone had hovered close to outright laughter. “
She’ll be more of a handful than you expect.”
Having lived with Peter for so long, Dael’s humor was sometimes a little offbeat.

Jack dismissed the matter. He’d embarked on a course of madness when he’d responded to Rachael. He must recast every plan he’d made. He entered the flyer and started the coffee percolator. He felt tired and needed what stimulus he could get.

“Make one for me.”
Anneke materialized at his side and switched to normal speech. “I’m worried about Peter.”

“That’s a change.” Jack’s tone sounded dry. Anneke’s stubbornness had created more impossible situations than any other member of the Alliance.

“I’m serious.” She brushed aside his levity. “He keeps slipping away to spend time in his own world.”

Jack felt happy to divert from his own problem, which he suspected time would solve anyway, and poured his aunt a cup of coffee, over-sweetened as she liked it. “He has no personal timeline there now, so there’s no reason he shouldn’t. He can sandwich as much time as he likes between our seconds.” He handed her the coffee. “What’s the problem?”

Anneke took a sip from the anodized mug, grimacing at the bite of the freshly boiled coffee. “I don’t know. He’s quieter than usual and it sometimes feels as if he’s taken a step away from the rest of us.”

“From Dael too?”

“She says, no.” Anneke shook her head to reinforce the point.

“Do you know what he’s doing there?” Jack searched for information.

“Watching his funeral.”

“Oh.” Jack understood his aunt’s concern.

* * * *

They were making a big thing of it. Riderless horse with boots reversed in the stirrups, flag-draped catafalque on a gun caisson topped by a velvet cushion bearing his decorations, the complete military ritual. It was understandable, he supposed. He’d been the recipient of the highest awards for personal valor in two countries and the last survivor of Black Jack Pershing’s doughboys. It gave the present incumbent of the White House a free photo shoot with no political downside.

Peter tried to be cynical. Being here proved he had no personal connection to the body lying within the coffin. Like the medals, the name, the sword, it had once been his, but not now. Yet the familiar ritual had the power to draw him back across the void and make him assume a parade stance in a final tribute to the man he once was.

* * * *

“Jean-Paul’s back.” Anneke’s announcement was a conversation stopper. It was a hundred years at least since Peter and Dael’s youngest child had left, deliberately disappearing without a trace. “He appeared at the beach Camp, gave Dael a hug, and sat down to demolish everything Peter could cook.”

“How did Peter react?” No one in the family could understand Peter’s lack of concern for his son, or his absolute prohibition on anyone searching for Jean-Paul.

“He made a remark about the fatted calf and continued cooking until Jean-Paul was satisfied.” Anneke smiled. “The three of them walked along the beach together afterwards and I came to see you.”

“Does Karrel know?”

Anneke nodded. “He and Gabrielle were at breakfast. I suspect my older brother has secrets from the rest of us. He didn’t seem surprised.”

Jack nodded. Peter and Karrel shared things beyond the rest of them, probably because of common memories shared during Peter’s rescue from Earth, or perhaps something more. Jack didn’t know. He and the others encountered this bond very rarely and its nature was beyond them.

“Has he changed at all?” Jean-Paul was only slightly older than Jack. They’d grown up together, relationship notwithstanding.

“Not that I noticed.” Anneke’s brow furrowed. “Yet, there’s more of the quietness in him. He seems one step removed from me.” She laughed. “Nothing’s changed, he always was.”

It was Jack’s turn to nod. Karrel and Anneke were indisputably Peter’s children. They thought like him, acted like him, bore the same responsibilities for the world they inhabited and acted. Jean-Paul was Dael’s son. He’d inherited her compassion and acceptance. He disagreed with his father’s assumption of responsibility for the world and took no part in the Alliance’s crusade against the Federation. There were no arguments, no friction between them. Both had measured the other’s thoughts and accepted their differences. Jean-Paul’s departure had not been a rift. He’d gone to see what existed outside the galaxy dominated by the Federation. “I’ll look forward to seeing him.”

“He asked about you. Don’t be surprised if he turns up.” Anneke seemed to hear a secret summons. “Bye. Gotta go,” she said, and disappeared.

Jack washed her mug and cleaned up the galley. He kept the flyer on standby for emergencies and was meticulous in having it prepared for immediate instant lift-off, and he had an hour’s work in post-flight checks and refueling before he could leave.

Jean-Paul’s return was great news. His uncle was in Dael’s womb when Gabrielle swapped places with Feodar.

* * * *

Rachael woke feeling great. Her sated body might nag gently for attention, but that was nothing to the euphoria of Jack loving her so well. She needed movement, action, but, most of all, Jack.

He insisted she return to the compound for the remainder of the night, holding out as her demands became entreaties and finally degenerated into pleading.

“For both our sakes, this needs to be managed. We don’t want the Federation to recall you because it feels you’re compromised, and I have to convince my people you are more their heroine than Federation ambassador.”

He was right, but she held out for as long as she could, sitting cross-legged on the pilot’s seat turned bed while he prepared food in the galley, sitting shoulder to shoulder while they ate, and lying body to body, using every means she knew to distract him, while he argued his case.

Once clear of the aircraft she’d sought to punish him by avoiding all contact, but found it a two-edged sword, the need to touch him and be touched in return the sweetest of agonies. Their farewell at the compound gate had been formal, a brief touch of hands, nothing more, and Rachael had stood politely as he walked away, battling the urge to run after him.

“Good morning.” Jenni came into the room, bright and punctual as always, the perfect PA.

“Good morning, Jenni. What do you have for me today?”

“Coffee first. Will you eat here, or in the dining room?”

“Is there a staff cafeteria?” Rachael had a vague memory of having seen one.

“Yes.” Nothing surprised Jenni.

“Are they there, or have I missed meal time.”

Jenni didn’t need to glance at her watch. She was in perfect personal assistant mode. “They drift in and out from seven thirty till eight forty-five. You have fifteen minutes to dress and I’ll ask them to set up a table.”

“I’ll take twenty minutes and don’t set up a table. I want to mingle naturally. Have you eaten?”

“I had a light snack two hours ago.”

“Would you care to join me?”

“Of course.” The perfect personal assistant could make no other response.

Hasten slowly, would have been Jack’s advice. She could almost hear him in her mind, but Rachael had to persevere. “That was a personal request. One I have no right to make. Join me only if you want to and it is convenient.”

“I want to and it is convenient.” Jenni’s head nodded in confirmation and Rachael had to be satisfied.