Damn it all to hell. The women had taken the Quillie and left.
"Grab their jump coordinates," Ian ordered from where he paced in front of the huge, curved forward viewscreen in the cockpit.
"They didn't transmit any."
And why would they? They didn't want to be followed, obviously. Ian placed his hands behind his back and scowled. "Then input our coordinates for Sienna." When he arrived at the palace, he was going to have to explain a lot more than his handling of the frontier, now that it looked like Tee had taken her freedom.
Good for you, pixie, part of him thought. She'd fought for what she wanted, and hadn't given up until she'd got what she was after. Unlike him, trudging home to the barn like an obedient cow.
"Coordinates for Sienna are in," Gann said. "I'm ready when you are."
Ian lifted his hand to give the order. But he hesitated.
The crew watched him curiously.
If he returned to Sienna, it would underscore Randall's original doubts about him, that he put the needs of the Federation over his homeworld. Then the footage of Baresh would make it to the United Nations, who were spring-loaded to sever ties to the Vash. And they had every right, if this is the way the Vash Nadah dealt with the frontier, treating its peoples' concerns like nuisance administrative issues that could be discussed at their leisure. They were wrong in this. Rom was wrong. And if the frontier split from the Federation, the galaxy would lurch toward years of unrest that would end in another devastating war.
The way out of that future rested on his shoulders.
His hand became a fist. "Your orders have changed. Cancel the coordinates for Sienna and set a course for Earth."
"Sir?" Gann exchanged glances with Muffin.
"I'm not calling off the mission. Set a course for Earth, Mr. Truelenne."
"The king asked us to return."
"He didn't ask us," Ian informed him. "He ordered us. And I'm countermanding that order. I may be new at this game, but I know what's right. Turning tail and running is wrong. I'm the only one who can resolve the situation on Earth. And I intend to— with or without Vash backing. You can't follow the rules all the time."
The crew considered him with a strange mix of shock and curiosity, as if they'd opened a box and found something they hadn't expected.
"Are you with me?" he asked them.
Gredda raised her hand. "I am."
"Count me in," Muffin said. "And us," Quin and Push chimed in.
For Gann, though, the decision appeared to be a struggle. He'd followed Rom to hell and back, and his loyalty had never wavered.
"You can leave once we get to Earth," Ian told him. "I understand."
Gann glanced up. "No, Ian; you have my support in this mission. I believe you can bring both sides together. It's Rom I can't understand." His lips thinned. "Just as he might not understand when I explain that I did this for him." He spread his hands on the desk in front of him. "I await your order, Captain."
Ian lowered his fist in one sweeping motion. "Take us to Earth. Maximum speed."
At the outer reaches of the solar system, the Sun Devil dropped out of hyperspace and raced toward Earth. Ian stood at the helm and gazed at his planet's sun, at this distance still tiny and cold. It is time, he thought determinedly. Time to prove his theory that Earth would stay in the Federation if they were given a tangible reason to do so, and if they felt they could play an important role within an established civilization so vast that it boggled the mind. Once in Washington, his greatest challenge would be presenting the image of capable leadership, despite his lack of Vash support. He had to come across as a levelheaded crusader, a man willing to stand up for the rights of his people. And he had to do this without antagonizing the Federation. Then, he hoped, he could begin the long process of bridging his two worlds without sacrificing the needs of either.
The way you sacrificed Tee.
He winced. He'd let her turn him down. He'd watched her walk out of his life. He'd made a mistake.
"I've got the Quilliel" Gann shouted.
Ian spun around. "Where?"
"Twelve o'clock, and no more than a standard hour ahead."
"They must have flown straight here. And at breakneck speed, too." The discovery told him two things: Tee knew exactly where she wanted to go. And she didn't want to be followed.
Ian strode to where Gann sat: the pilot chair that had once been Tee's. "Contact them," he ordered. A triangular symbol on Gann's instrument panel represented the Quillie.
"Quillie, this is the Sun Devil." Gann had to repeat the call several times before the women answered.
"Quillie here. Go ahead." At Lara's voice the ketta-cat let out an indescribable sound that was half gurgle, half howl, and ran to the speaker. It circled in frustration, trying to get at the voice inside.
"I know how you feel, cat," Gann grumbled.
Ian demanded, "Tee, what the hell are you doing?"
"This is Lara. Tee'ah asked me to speak in her place. She's commandeered the Quillie. That's all I'm allowed to say… and that we're both fine. Don't forget to feed Cat, Gann. Quillie, out."
"Wait!" Ian shouted. But the channel was already closed. "We're both at sub-light speed. Download their route. I want to know where they're going."
"They're headed for… Loss Ahn-gelleez," Gann said, reading his viewscreen.
"Los Angeles?" His first thought was of Ilana. Tee had been intrigued by his description of his sister. He bet she was headed to L.A. thinking she'd found a kindred spirit. He was afraid she was right.
He scrutinized the triangular symbol denoting Tee's ship. It was comprised of colors and numbers, two-dimensional, the opposite of the real woman, who was warm and loving, unpredictable and stubborn, the only person who'd ever made him feel like he was living life, not watching it happen all around him. Grab happiness when it dangles in front of you, his mother often told him. You don't always get a second chance. His neck tingled, and he closed his eyes, letting his mother's voice guide him.
"With all due respect, Ian," Gann interrupted quietly from beside him. "A chance at happiness missed is an opportunity perhaps never repeated."
Ian's eyes jolted open. Rom had once said Gann's senses were turned to an almost impossible level, but he hadn't said anything about the man being a mind reader. "Were you referring to yourself?" Ian asked as he turned around. "Or me?"
Gann looked every inch the travel-weary space captain with too many solitary nights logged in. "Both."
Ian studied him. Gann mourned the chances he'd never taken, regretting all he'd missed.
What if they stopped missing chances? he thought suddenly. Then there wouldn't be any reason for regret, would there? Thoughtfully, Ian rubbed his chin. "I don't have to be in Washington until the day after tomorrow. There's a little time to play with."
Gann's mouth quirked. "I await your orders," he said as he moved and his finger hovered over the destination icon for Los Angeles.
Ian turned to the crew. "Anyone opposed to a little detour?"
"No, sir," they chorused heartily.
Ian's blood surged. He'd fix the problem on Earth, but first he'd fix the mistake he'd made with Tee. He was going to win her back.
Moments later, they were on their way to Los Angeles. Ahead, the Quillie breezed past Interstellar customs with a thumbs-up from the infant agency Earth System Patrol and Customs, known as ES-PAC. But when the Sun Devil arrived at the checkpoint, the patrol ships denied them entry.
Gann swore. "I don't believe this. Two women in a stolen ship breeze past ESPAC with a wink and a kiss, and we get pulled over?"
"Bad luck again," Quin grumbled.
"No," Ian said firmly. Everything he'd once taken for granted was up in the air, putting everything he cared about at risk. "From here on out, we're making our own luck."
An ESPAC customs agent transmitted first in English and then in Basic. "Decelerate and prepare for boarding."
"Yes, ma'am," Ian replied with a dangerous smile. The official had no idea what she was in for. This time he was pulling rank.
Chapter Twenty
With newly bought eye-shaders hiding their eyes, Tee'ah and Lara hurried through what the Earth dwellers called Los Angeles International Airport. The landing fee was exorbitant, explaining why there were no other merchant-class starships in residence, but Lara had paid the bill with funds borrowed from Gann's supply of credits. "He owes me more than that," she said matter-of-factlyr "I was hired to find you and bring you home. The way I see it, I'm doing what I was paid."
Tee'ah squeezed her arm. Lara gave her a small grin then glanced away. No matter how hard she tried, Tee'ah doubted she'd ever be able to fully express how much this woman's help meant to her. This no-nonsense pilot from Baresh had aided her at the risk of losing her reputation and her starship, a craft Tee'ah sensed was the center of Lara's fierce independence. "I pray this doesn't keep you from retrieving your ship."
Lara's mouth turned down. "Princess, some risks are worth the trouble and some aren't. Let's leave it at that."
A man thrust a piece of paper into Lara's hands and walked away, speaking in English as he passed papers to others. "What does it say?" Lara asked. She handed the sheet to Tee'ah who input the runes into her hand-held translator.
"Earth First," she read. "Boycott Vash-made goods." Uneasily, she glanced around the airport. Posters in store windows proclaimed, "Earth First." Some were racist in nature, portraying highborn Vash with exaggerated characteristics— amber-gold hair and skin, high cheekbones, long straight noses, and pale gold eyes. Some had whips in their hands, subjugating an unwilling human population.
Anti-Federation sentiment had taken hold. For Ian's sake, Tee'ah hoped that it hadn't yet rooted too deep. Nonetheless, as a precaution, they didn't pause to look around, as much as Tee'ah would have liked.
They approached a bank of comm boxes with viewscreens, from one of which Tee planned to contact Ilana. Reading English phonetically presented in Basic runes displayed on her translator, she chose one and told it, "Connect me to Ilana Hamilton." Nothing happened. She tried again, but the screen remained blank. Sighing, she sidestepped to the next comm box.
A man using the comm device next to them leaned over. "These new picture phones are confusing if you've never used one before." He had black hair and almost black eyes, and his smile was brilliant against his smooth brown skin. They stared at him, enthralled.
Preening slightly, he asked, "Just in from overseas?"
Lara followed Tee'ah's lead and nodded eagerly.
"Welcome to the country, ladies." He pointed to the device he held pressed to his ear. Then, with his thumb and forefinger, he gestured to the receptacle where they were to insert the Earth credits they'd bought upon arriving. "First insert your cash card. Then lift the receiver."
Tee'ah nodded and smiled, then did as the man indicated. This time her transmission went through. She clutched her translator and waited.
"What listing, please?" asked a female voice.
Tee'ah replied haltingly. The business of waiting for the translation, and then reading it was awkward, "Ilana Hamilton."
"I have an I. Hamilton in Santa Monica."
Tee'ah waited. Lara whispered, "I think she wants you to answer her."
"What do I say?"
"I don't know! Say… yes."
"Yes." Tee'ah pinched the bridge of her nose. Ex-haustion had set in, making her head throb and her eyes hurt. How long had it been since she'd last had more than a few hours' sleep? She'd lost count of the days. All she wanted was a soft bed, a full night's rest, and—
"Hello?"
A young woman appeared onscreen, her hands over her head as she pulled an untamed mane of hair through a circlet of the same light blue as her eyes. The roots of her hair were almost as dark as Ian's, but the rest of the strands were infused with many lighter shades, from dark blond to nearly silver. Clay-roll, Tee'ah thought with an approving smile. "Ilana," she said.
The woman dropped her hands, and her plume of hair flipped jauntily around her shoulders. "Yes? Who is it?"
Using the translator, Tee'ah recited, "I am Tee'ah Dar. Your cousin-by-marriage." She took off her eye-shaders to prove her assertion. "I am in the Los Angeles… International… Airport." Ilana's mouth fell open, and she leaned forward. "Omigosh. Tee'ah. What are you doing here? Wait. It's late. Do you have a place to stay? Can I come get you?"
Upon reading the words, Tee'ah let the sweet warmth of relief fill her. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes to all."
The chaos Tee'ah was beginning to see characterized Ilana's house resumed at dawn the next morning when Ilana poked her head into the small bedchamber Tee'ah had shared with Lara. "Time to get up, girls," she said in heavily accented Basic. "We're leaving in an hour."
After being tracked down on every planet she'd visited, Tee'ah didn't have high hopes of escaping notice on Earth. "I must disguise myself."
"I'll take care of that," Ilana assured her, her arms full of clothes and hats. "I have to work, but I'm taking you both with me. There's a major shoot on-location downtown— movie-making, Earth entertainment— and I'm filming the filming. Confusing, I know, but it's Hunter Holt's first film out of rehab." She flashed an apologetic look at Tee'ah's translator and enunciated: "A famous actor consumed too many mind-bending substances. I'm shooting a documentary about his road to recovery."
She blew her messy hair off her forehead. "I want you to come. You'll safe with me… though maybe not with a few of my more Neanderthal planet-mates." She glanced at Tee'ah's translator. "Did that thing translate Neanderthal? I'm all for freedom of expression, for presenting opposing points of view, but these Earth-Firsters are ignorant, and in their ignorance they could easily screw up all my stepfather's good work."
Ilana sighed as she draped the dresses over a bed-side chair. "But that's politics, and I try to leave that up to the rest of my family."