Contact (25 page)

The door chime rang. “Enter,” Moray called. Two young men guided a buoyant cart through the hatch. A savory scent filled the chamber as the aides set out the meal: a platter of meat, crisp-bread for sopping up gravy, and a bowl of nutrient-rich but synthesized vegetables.

“Synthetics, Father?” Kào couldn’t help asking after the aides departed. His father usually insisted on fresh produce, switching over to fabricated produce only near the end of an overlong mission. The galley crew must have started the refugees on the synthetics before everyone else. No wonder Jordan had brought him complaints on that list of hers. “Are we conserving? Or is there a problem with the greenhouse?”

“Conserving,” Moray replied as he painstakingly trimmed excess fat from his meat. Kào’s own piece was so tender that it fell into bite-sized pieces. “I’ve been tasked to make a perimeter run along the Rim to sniff out that reported Talagar ship.”

The Rim was the farthest reaches of civilized space. Beyond even the system where they’d found Earth; beyond anything Kào had ever visited.

“You’re going home, Kào,” Moray said, chewing. “Home to the region of your birth.”

Kào almost came out of his chair. “I was born in the frontier?”

“The most backwater stretch, my boy. As you know, your people shunned technology except for medical purposes and the most basic conveniences. They shunned the Alliance,
too, kept out of politics and conflicts, content to farm, or whatever it was they called taming the land and their beasts.” He shook his head. “It was their downfall.”

Kào’s head jerked up.
Downfall?
He wasn’t sure he understood what Moray meant by that. But another, more pressing question begged to be asked. “You say we’re going after that Talagar ship. According to Perimeter procedure, that calls for you to disable the craft by removing its crew and replacing it with our own. I don’t know if I care for the idea with the refugees onboard.”

“They won’t be onboard.”

“Where will they be?”

“We’re taking them with us to the Rim, because they’re to be settled there,” Moray declared. “Be proud of your role in this great undertaking, Kào, for the Alliance has chosen to settle the Rim at long last, and your refugees have won the honor of being the first colonists.”

Survivors—on Earth! Pure terror alternated with giddy hope in Jordan’s mind. The resulting turmoil wouldn’t let her sleep, but she was exhausted enough to try. She couldn’t afford insomnia; she had so much on her mind, so many people to take care of, so many things to get done, to organize, to fix, to consider. She couldn’t be groggy or forgetful. Or careless. But the minutes crawled by in the dimness of her quarters, and sleep didn’t come.

Jordan’s eyes found the clock. Bottom of the second third in Alliance time, which meant it was late evening. The crew of the
Savior
worked around the clock in three shifts, their duty divided like their day. From now through the end of the next third was what she’d come to consider “night.”

Groaning, she rolled from her stomach to her back. She was wired. The prospect of going home, of reuniting with her family, had grabbed hold of her and wouldn’t let go. But lurking in the recesses of her mind were the terrifying
what-ifs. What if Earth still existed? What if Kào had lied? And if he had lied, why? And where was he taking them?

He didn’t kiss you like a lying man
. No, he hadn’t. And that made it so tough to accept that he’d deceived her, if he’d deceived her. Why bother with affection, with tenderness, if he meant to hurt her? He could have just taken his kiss, or more, and not cared about what she felt. But that hadn’t been the case. He’d given all he had, and she’d soaked it all in. She hoped it meant that Dillon was wrong, that his hypothesis had no basis in fact at all. Facts—she needed them. And she wasn’t going to find them by tossing and turning in bed.

She pushed herself off the mattress, pulled her jeans over her panties. Shoving her head of blond frizz through the neck of her T-shirt, she went in search of distraction. Town Square. It was late. She doubted anyone would be up. But she didn’t care as long as she wasn’t alone in her room with her worries and memories for company.

As she passed through the hive of bedrooms, she could hear soft voices coming from behind closed doors and the sounds of one couple clearly enjoying themselves having sex. Her thoughts immediately swung to Kào.
What kind of lover was he?

She could almost feel her fingers combing through his hair as she kissed him, the cropped, silky strands damp with sweat, his long, lean body covering hers as he moved inside her, hot and wild, making her forget everything but his taste, his scent, his touch—

“God.” Jordan blushed hard, rubbing her hands over her face. Her future was more uncertain than ever and here she was, fantasizing about sleeping with the one man who held all the answers. Maybe Natalie was right about her.

“Hey, girl.” The husky voice came from the shadows.

Jordan’s steps faltered. Speak of the devil. Natalie was sitting on the floor cushions. Someone else was there, too,
a head silhouetted in the dim light. Jordan said, “Hey, Nat. I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

Natalie laughed. “I don’t think so.”

A man spoke up. “It’s me, Jordan—Ben.”

Squinting, Jordan bent forward as she walked over. “It is you.” She made a face. “And why shouldn’t I suspect anything was going on with you two, hmm?”

Natalie snorted. “Because I’d bust his ass, that’s why.”

“Right,” Ben shot back. “Why don’t you try me sometime and see.”

“Maybe I will. And I’ll bust your ass.”

Jordan laughed softly. They probably had no idea how much their banter helped take the edge off her anxiety.

Natalie tapped the cushion with manicured nails. “Join us.”

Jordan sank onto the cushion. “I can’t sleep. What are you guys up to?”

“We’re just philosophizing about life and death,” Ben explained. “Nothing too heavy.”

Jordan sniffed the air. “And nipping at the cooking brandy, too, I see.”

“Cooking brandy, hell,” Natalie said. “Cognac from First Class.” She lifted her small glass to the overhead light. “Courvoisier. VSOP Exclusif. But pick your poison.” As graceful as a cat, she unlocked the cabinet below the entertainment area where she and Jordan had stored the remaining miniature bottles of airline liquor. Only the two of them knew the digital combination.

Making herself comfortable, Jordan cracked a can of tonic water and poured the contents into an opaque white cup. “Remember limes?” she murmured wistfully as she stirred in the contents of a tiny bottle of Tanqueray.

“Yeah, limes.” Ben gazed at his drink cupped in his hands. Jordan noticed that his nails were bitten to the quick. “Beer is what I miss most, I think.”

Natalie sighed. “No, chocolate. Godiva chocolate.”

As Ben and Natalie lost themselves in memories of lost pleasures, Jordan made her mind go blank. Soon her drink imparted its numbing warmth. There was nothing better than alcohol to sand away the sharp edges of anxiety. It was a good thing that they were hoarding the last of the liquor, or she might have been tempted to develop a drinking problem.

Ben broke the amiable silence. “You look like hell, Jordan.”

“Yeah. Well. I feel like hell.”

They lapsed into silence. This time the atmosphere was tense, reflecting their unease.

“Maybe Kào doesn’t know the whole story about Earth,” Ben said out of the blue. “And maybe those red-eyed assistants do. They know something we don’t. I can see it in their smug little eyes.”

Jordan shuddered. That Talagar Heest, the guard she’d passed in the corridor—she wouldn’t soon forget the look he’d given her.

Ben yanked on his cuffs. “I don’t know. I just don’t feel good about this, Jordan. About us. Call it a hunch . . . a bad hunch. I’ve had them before.” His eyes took on that fearful look that had characterized his first days on the
Savior
. “And they’re usually right.”

Jordan lurched to her feet. “That’s it. No more waiting. It’s killing me. Kào had an appointment tonight, but he’s got to be done by now. Dillon’s mapped out the ship—in glorious detail. Why waste all that work? Let’s track down Mr. Vantaar-Moray and find out what the hell is going on. I want to see that flick they made of Earth. Then we’ll know what they know, and we can go from there. Right now we know nothing.” She wriggled her feet into her slip-ons. “Who’s game?”

Ben stared up at her. “You mean . . . now?”

“Yes, now.”

Ben’s eyes shifted to the exit, sealed shut during the night hours—from the inside, thankfully. “Are we allowed? To leave, I mean? We’re in quarantine.”

“No, we’re not. We’re restricted to quarters, remember?”

“That’s the same thing.”

“Sorry, Ben. I don’t care what the rules say. I’ve been out twice now and haven’t seen anyone guarding this area. I’m going. I promised my little girl I was coming home. And when I make a promise, I keep it. It’s only a promise to one person, my word to a single individual, a child, but it’s everything to me.” Her throat closed, and she turned away quickly to hide the emotion she knew flared in her face. Then she started walking across Town Square.

“Uh-uh. No way. You’re not going alone.” Natalie wedged her feet into her spiky sandals, her fuchsia toenails glittering in the overhead lights. “I’m coming with you,” she said and sashayed after Jordan.

Ben jogged after them. “No, that’s my job. I’m the purser, the second-in-command. Nat, you need to stay here and watch the store.” His eyes shifted to Jordan. “If that’s okay with you, Captain.”

Jordan was so startled that Ben had volunteered to come along, she could barely speak. Then her brain snapped into gear. “We’ll bring our translators and the maps.” She dispatched Natalie in search of both. Then she told Ben, “Let’s change into the jumpsuits they gave us. We’re going to stand out in the crowd, but we’ll stand out more dressed this way.”

A storage shelf contained hundreds of the pale orange outfits. Ben and Jordan tugged clean, pressed jumpsuits over their clothing.

Natalie rejoined them near the exit hatch. Jordan pressed a glowing red rectangle on the door control panel. The rectangle changed from red to green and the door slid up into
the ceiling. Then she stepped into the corridor.

Cool, dry air slapped her in the face, but it didn’t alleviate her usual vertigo from seeing the floor bowing upward to the ceiling. She squinted, working on her balance.

Ben caught her by the elbow. “You okay?”

“I’m still not used to it.” She pointed at the walkway. “That doesn’t bother you?” That Ben wasn’t bothered by the interior of the immense starship was a good sign. Maybe taking him along might be less of a liability than she thought. As she’d hoped, after his laptop outburst he seemed to be coming around. Mentally she crossed her fingers. She’d need him tonight.

“Nope. Doesn’t bother me.” He peered up the bowed path, then at her. “But you’re a pilot.”

She groaned. “One has nothing to do with the other.” She’d spent the day explaining that, it seemed. She faced Natalie. “While we’re gone, you’re in charge.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.” Natalie gave Jordan a mock salute. “Everything will be under control.”

Jordan smiled. “I have no doubt. Listen, I don’t know how long this will take.”

“I’ll wait up for you guys,” Natalie assured her.

Jordan squeezed her hand. The woman’s fingers were icy. Then she turned to Ben. “You ready?”

His throat bobbed. “Ready.”

“Let’s roll.” Maps in hand, they took off into unknown territory.

Their first stop was the storage locker Kào had opened on the way to the arena. “Jackpot!” More than one white jacket was stored inside. She pulled two folded garments from the compartment. “Their janitors wear these.”

They shrugged on the jackets. “Alien windbreakers,” Ben said.

“Exactly.” His sense of humor was a good sign. In fact,
he seemed a bit giddy. From adrenaline or booze, she wasn’t sure, but at least he wasn’t weeping.

“Where to now?” he asked from under his hood.

She read the map, then peered down the corridor. “We’re on Sublevel Three. The officer’s quarters are on Upper Level One. We can take the shuttle. I remember how to get there.”

With purpose, they resumed their walk. It was late, but there were a few others out and about. Ben refused to make eye contact, keeping his gaze trained on the floor. She, on the other hand, had no choice but to be observant. Not only was she in charge of getting them from one place to another, if she were to bump into any Talagar types, she wanted advance warning.

Silent, they waited for the shuttle. A man ambled up beside them. “Greetings,” he said.

“Greetings.” Jordan could hear her heart beating. Hell, she could hear Ben’s heart beating. Ben nodded, and the man turned his attention back to the shuttle station.

After a few moments, he frowned. Jordan’s stomach twisted in knots. She hoped he didn’t try talking to them; they’d hidden their translators in their pockets. “It should have arrived already,” he grumbled. Impatiently he yanked up his sleeve and aimed his wrist computer at a flat, featureless panel that Jordan thought was part of the wall. In seconds, the shuttle glided up.

Jordan exchanged a sheepish glance with Ben. “It’s a good thing he walked up,” she whispered in his ear when they’d boarded, sitting out of earshot of the man. “Or we’d still be standing there.”

The shuttle ride was uncomfortably long. At a few stops, someone got on or someone got off. She and Ben sat, heads lowered, taking in the scene from under their white hoods. A curious rider glanced at their orange pants, but didn’t appear troubled by the outfits. The white jackets worked well at hiding who they really were.

She was pretty good at reading Key, but worked hard at discerning the symbols flashing on viewers overhead. When “Level One” appeared, she took Ben by the arm and left the shuttle behind.

She stopped to consult the map. Ben peered over her shoulder. “Where to next?”

“We take a right and keep going. We’re still pretty far away. I’d guess a ten- or fifteen-minute walk before we get to the crew quarters, and then a little farther after that to the officers’ rooms. They’re grouped at the bow of the ship.”