Rachel's Return Read online

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  New Concepts Publishing

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  Copyright ©2007 by Amy Gallow

  First published in 2007, 2007

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  Book Four:

  Rachel's Return

  By

  Amy Gallow

  © copyright by Amy Gallow, September 2007

  Cover Art by Eliza Black, © copyright September 2007

  ISBN 978-1-60394-082-5

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence

  Chapter One

  Rachael came back to Feodar's World in style, wafted through the new ground level portal in the rear seat of a luxurious ground effect vehicle. The outgoing Federation Ambassador greeted her in full uniform, his orders and decorations gleaming in the sunlight.

  Yet, she was nervous. Twelve months of intense therapy were not part of the normal qualification for a Federation Ambassador and her decision to arrive in a plain federation uniform, without insignia or rank, suddenly seemed flawed.

  "You'll find a lot changed.” The Ambassador was smiling as he entered the vehicle and sat down beside her. “You're a local heroine, the obvious choice as my replacement. The President has expressed his pleasure at your appointment and has asked to see you immediately."

  "He has?” Rachael whispered a prayer her choice of the plain uniform and chignon hairstyle would remind the President of the meal they'd shared together as agents. He'd complimented her appearance then and it might tempt him to forgive her part in what happened after that meal.

  Her companion sensed her unease. “He says this world owes you honor and he has a personal debt."

  "Yes. I betrayed him and sabotaged his ship.” She wondered whether the President was referring to his promise in the restaurant to spank her and smiled nervously. It would be a novel way to start a diplomatic relationship.

  "He holds no grudges, but you've drawn a tough assignment. He's a skilled negotiator and his loyalty to his people makes him incorruptible."

  "His people? I thought he was First Family and him being the son of an Elite a part of his operational legend.” Her briefing hadn't mentioned this.

  "He undoubtedly worked with them, but the Elite of Trygon now claims him as a son and the records back it up. He was sent off world to prepare him for his role in deposing the pontiff. Joining the First Family would be a logical step."

  "Why not us?” She knew the answer, but she was curious what reason a trained diplomat and negotiator would give.

  "The First Family has no record of colonization by stealth. His father wanted no inconvenient loyalties getting in the way.” This man had no illusions about his role.

  He tapped the driver on the shoulder and they drove towards the Temple. More surprises. Where the gate had been, a broad thoroughfare led to a bustling market and the inner circle buildings all boasted signs naming them university faculties.

  "The priests now teach and education is free to all. The administration disburses the income from our trading licenses to support gifted students and is building regional schools everywhere. Be careful, he understands our bottom line obsession and punishes transgressions by attacking profits.” His tone was rueful. An admission of lessons learnt the hard way.

  They passed the inner circle and reached the gardens surrounding the palace. The changes here were subtle and she had to look hard to see the vegetables and fruits growing among the flowers of the ornamental garden beds.

  "This is part of the University too. He's made it self-sufficient in food and the horticulture faculties and students run it. We should catch up with him at the fish farm on the seaward side of the estate. He's helping in the set-up.” The Ambassador seemed amused.

  They drove around the palace and reached the beach, no longer hemmed in by a wall, the debris used to build a causeway and seawall enclosing a shallow lagoon. A knot of uniformed Federation advisors stood on a barge directing the efforts of workers in the water, the latter stripped to the waist at least—she couldn't see if they wore anything below the level of chest deep water.

  "We'll have to walk from here.” The Ambassador waited for the driver to open the door. “Keep to the duck boards till we reach the causeway."

  Rachael had added to her height with stiletto heels. She retained the vague impression he was taller and wanted him to have no avoidable advantage at this first official meeting. She viewed the thirty feet of duckboards with some suspicion and hoped the causeway surface wasn't cobbled. A stumbling approach would do nothing to calm her nerves.

  Helped out of the vehicle by the Ambassador, she stood for a moment, her eyes searching the crowded barge. Her memories of him were sharp and augmented by recent holograms. She should recognize him.

  "As usual, he's in the thick of it.” The Ambassador was amused and he pointed at the forward edge of the barge, but Rachel recognized no one. She'd have to get closer.

  The causeway surface was rough, claiming her attention to avoid stumbles, and the gangway down to the barge tried her balance even further so she reached the group of Federation advisors still puzzled. Seeing their attention was on the water, she turned, just as a worker duck-dived to the bottom, giving her a glimpse of bare buttocks as he disappeared. There was no sign of Jack. She turned back to the Ambassador, who'd followed her, and found him grinning at some private joke. She hesitated to ask the obvious question, but was saved by a familiar voice from behind.

  "Hello, Rachael. Glad you could join us. I'll be with you as soon as we secure the bottom netting.” The naked worker had resurfaced, his grin showing white against the weathered brown of his face. It was Jack.

  "Hello, Mister President.” She tried to keep it formal. “I've come to present my credentials."

  "You called me Jack before. Nothing important has changed and you don't need credentials here. You're welcome in any capacity you chose to assume.” He swam the few strokes to the barge and reached up to take her hand.

  She bent down and placed her hand in his, wondering all the time whether she was being wise. It would take little effort on his part to tip her into the water.

  He seemed to sense her thought, for his grip tightened an instant before he relinquished her hand. “Walk back to your vehicle. I'll join you there as soon as I can."

  She'd forgotten the impact of those eyes. “Thank you, Mister President. I appreciate you taking the time to speak to me.” A flush warmed her cheeks at his smile.

  His face was leaner and browner than she remembered, his body hard and fit with physical labor, and there was an air of contentment in his manner. This was a man doing a worthwhile job and enjoying it. He winked deliberately as he turned away and Rachael's cheeks warmed further. She'd underestimated how difficult this man would prove and he seemed determined to bypass protocol.

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  Jack watched her make her way back onto the causeway. She looked much as he remembered her, a million-credit beauty who could switch in an instant from femme fatale to the girl you'd take home to Mother. There were more shadows in her mind though, and a lurking terror imperfectly recognized. His grandmother was right. Rachael n
eeded help.

  He smiled suddenly.

  Not even Peter opposed Dael when she decided someone needed help. Rachael didn't know it yet, but she'd gained a powerful champion—one whose overwhelming love could weave miracles of healing. The Pontiff was already improving under his grandmother's gentle care. He'd added another syllable to his ancestors name and become D'feodar. He would never be entirely trustworthy and remain under the supervision of the Group Mind until old age removed him from temptation. It was better fate than he'd earned here. Jack still had trouble forgiving him for the way he'd treated Rachael.

  The family had analyzed the return voyage to the Treaty Port in detail, taking the details from his memory and adding their own impressions from the moments when one or the other had checked his well being. Their consensus was he'd done well in the field operation, but needed more strategic thought.

  "The woman worked out why we needed a hero,” his father said. “Why didn't you?"

  "I was a little busy surviving.” Jack thought Karrel unfair.

  "She was under direct threat of death too and had only her brains to defend herself. I followed her thought processes with interest.” His father shook his head. “She did very well, better than you in this respect. You'll learn much from her."

  "What do you mean?” His father never made slips of the tongue.

  "We're giving you your first independent mission. Fifty years to establish a stable democracy on Feodar's world. She'll be part of it.” Karrel held up his hand and began ticking the points on his fingers. “General education, trade agreements ensuring continued independence from the Federation, modernize the economy, create political awareness and foster the habit of reasoned debate.” He smiled. “The Federation will respond with whatever weapons it can find, particularly the woman. As soon as they're sure of her loyalty, they'll send her back and hope you start thinking with what lies between your legs."

  Jack acknowledged his father had been right, but then he usually was.

  * * * *

  Rachael returned to the vehicle knowing she'd been out maneuvered. Diplomatic protocol had ensured Jack knew the exact time she was coming. He'd set this up to throw her off-balance and she'd walked straight into it. She bit her lower lip in vexation. Stumbled was a better description.

  It wasn't a good start.

  She had no illusions about her selection for this position, but it represented an escape from fieldwork and she must succeed. There was no going back. When the Ambassador handed her into the vehicle she seated herself, surreptitiously cleaning the sand from her shoes on the carpet while he made his way round to the other side. Fortunately, he sensed her disinclination to talk and they sat silent while they waited, Rachael looking down at the floor and thinking hard.

  A half memory had surfaced with the touch of his hand. She wasn't sure whether it was real or another of the phantasms created by a mind overstressed by fear, but she thought she remembered being carried in Jack's arms after her escape from the Pontiff while he verbally flayed those around her into action. Like the Pontiff's escape, it had the unreal feel of a dream, and her therapists had labeled it false so many times she'd begun to believe it was another of the tricks her mind sometimes played, confusing desire with memory.

  "Here he comes."

  The Ambassador's voice brought her back to the present and Rachael looked up. Jack was swimming towards them, powering though the water like a trained athlete. She could see a towel and some folded clothes on the sand, twenty feet from the water's edge. He wasn't missing a trick. She'd have to watch him or appear a prude.

  Damn! This job wasn't going to be easy and she'd underestimated him badly.

  Jack emerged from the water and her body reacted, months of therapy destroyed in an instant and the memory of their love-making in the temple startlingly clear. His epic journey back to the Treaty Port had stripped him down to the essential musculature, all excess weight gone, and he was magnificent—a superior predator in its prime. There was something else as well, a refining of a quality she'd already noted and admired. He was a king without arrogance, a god with humility, utterly complete in himself.

  A small child approached him and he squatted down to bring their faces level, following the child's animated speech with a broad smile, his head nodding in agreement. When the mother arrived to reclaim it, he stood, lifting the child in his arms.

  Rachael couldn't hear the conversation, but it was obvious the mother was apologizing and equally obvious he'd deflected the apology and led the woman into talking about herself and her family. Her outstretched arm indicated the workers in the water and he turned to identify her subject, nodding when he did and adding some words of praise. The woman's expression as she took the child from his arms made Rachael hate her.

  "He does that sort of thing all the time,” The Ambassador said. “It makes guards redundant and our undercover people either swap sides or are sent back to us shame-faced."

  "There must be some reaction to the changes he's made. He can't be pleasing everyone."

  "It's still honeymoon time. They've never had a leader directly concerned with their welfare and will forgive him anything because he obviously cares. He does nothing to persuade them, just gets on with the job of modernizing, spreading the benefits as far as he can. It's disheartening how well he succeeds."

  Rachael considered the situation and spoke, more to herself than her companion. “He's forcing us into competing for their loyalty."

  "You're right. Which makes it strange he's done nothing to tarnish your reputation. I think he actually fosters the idea you are more the heroine than he ever was a hero.” The Ambassador shook his head at the foolishness.

  Rachael nodded thoughtfully. “He wants us to compete. My status gives us the tools and he intends we use them. He must be confident he can limit our gains.” She turned to stare at Jack. “My return is part of his plan.” He'd finished speaking to the woman and was on his way again. “We'll play a waiting game. Find out what else he has in mind.” She'd taken charge.

  "They said you were too good to remain a field operative.” The Ambassador was smiling. “I can understand why I was sent into the Temple to pressure the Pontiff for your release."

  "It came close to getting me killed.” Rachael pushed away the memory of the glittering pike point aimed at her throat and the Pontiff's eyes behind it because Jack had reached the vehicle.

  "I'm so sorry,” he said. “It was thoughtless of me to spoil your big moment. You've earned more consideration than this. If you'd like to present your credentials, I'll accept them formally and we'll have a proper welcoming shindig in a week or two, probably borrow the Grand Hall.” His expression was contrite, but she detected a flicker of mischief in his eyes.

  "Perhaps I'll wait until you're more appropriately attired.” She must hold her own.

  Jack looked down at his worn work shirt and shorts, as if seeing them for the first time. “You're right,” he said. “Give me an hour and we'll meet in the center of the market square. It'll make everyone take notice."

  "An hour,” Rachael agreed. “I can walk there from the compound."

  "Thank you. I'll look forward to it.” His smile suggested it was her company rather than the ceremony he was anticipating.

  He's doing this to me, she thought. Why do I believe I can sense what he's thinking? He's standing there, watching me process this, and smiling as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking. I know it's impossible, but it doesn't change a thing.

  "I'll go then.” It came out as if she were asking his permission. This was insufferable.

  "It will give me time to prepare.” He was agreeing with her and laughing all the time in his mind.

  Rachael forced herself to sit back in the seat. “Drive to the compound.” She told the driver, and was thankful when the vehicle lifted from the ground and started moving. The air blast from under the skirts sent sand flying around Jack's ankles, but he didn't flinch. She could feel his eyes watching her, but didn't dare
return his gaze. This was harder than she thought.

  She was grateful the outgoing Ambassador chose to remain silent as the vehicle made its way to the compound. All her embryonic plans for dealing with Jack were in disarray, and she had only an hour to recast them.

  The Federation had sprung a high level leak.

  It was the only logical explanation for Jack's success in either turning or exposing every agent. The man at her side would be a good source. He could ignore Federation procedure and scan all the files, identifying the agents and passing the information to Jack, probably not directly. Additionally, he'd been here through the final days of the Papacy and his move to save her had surprised everyone. The First Family had shown their skill in turning high-level personnel before. This could be another example.

  Rachael gnawed her lower lip in vexation.

  "We're there.” The Ambassador broke his silence. “I assume you'll want to go alone to this meeting."

  "Y-yes.” She hadn't considered it yet, but it felt right.

  "Then we'll make this the formal handover. Congratulations, Ambassador. Good Luck. I envy you the challenge. Most postings are boring. This one will be anything but.” He stepped out of the vehicle and offered her his hand.

  "Thank you.” Rachael alighted and shook his hand. “I hope I'm up to it."

  "If you didn't have the confidence of the Federation, you wouldn't be here and it wasn't built on failure."

  It was the catch cry of the organization. She'd heard it personally at least a thousand times. It claimed omniscience for an entity spread across hundreds of worlds and based on a planet whose reflected light would take millennia to reach this planet. Once, it filled her with pride at being part of it. Now, she was no longer sure.

  Her doubts made her angry, and she unconsciously squared her shoulders. She'd accepted this responsibility willingly. It was her choice and hers alone. Let others lean on catch cries, she'd come into this with her eyes open. “I'll let you attend to your packing.” She was in charge now. “Take as long as you want. I'll have my things sent to the guest suite. I'm going to walk around the market and get the feel of things before I meet him again."