The Alliance (39 page)

“Anneke, check this world thoroughly. The rest of you start scanning individual portals. If she’s not on Viridia, the only other place she could go is here and then through any portal.”

Jean-Paul quailed at his father’s analysis of the situation, but he didn’t argue. Peter was the supreme realist and his logic was irrefutable. He took his place in Limbo and called up the first portal.

* * * *

Eight hours later, he understood how impossible the task was.

Anneke finished her scan of Viridia, delving into individual memories to ensure she’d missed nothing, and had returned empty-handed, taking her place in Limbo and scanning through portals. They couldn’t assume Kayelle would be close to the portal because they reverted to position last viewed by an individual. Put a different person in front of it and the location changed. They had to scan each world completely and check enough individual memories to be sure. At the present rate, it would take the eight of them nearly two years to check all the portals. He’d made the situation worse by rearranging the portals on his return, they had no way of knowing how they’d been arranged when Kayelle entered Limbo.

If indeed, that’s what she’d done.

“Stop.” Peter halted their efforts. “We’ve got to work smarter than this. Suggestions anybody?”

“If Kayelle were one of us, she’d call you,” Gabrielle said. “You’ve always responded, just as you did to Jean-Paul. Can we use this?”

Jean-Paul felt warmth surround Gabrielle. “Good thought,” his father said aloud. “Except she’d call Jean-Paul, not me, and my reading of her character suggests she’d not do it without cause. We’d have to be ready to move instantly. Can we take that risk?”

“What happens if he’s asleep when she calls?” Rachael was ever the practical one. She was the most recent to develop telepathy and viewed it with some suspicion.

“That’s another risk. We might not sense her call. Jean-Paul set up a private channel with her because of the other telepaths on Viridia. She’d probably use it.” Peter wasn’t one to sugarcoat the pill.

“Do we have a choice?” Karrel’s pragmatism drew a wry smile from Anneke. She’d always worshiped her elder brother, the one man in whom she found no fault, other than Peter.

“No. We’ll continue checking the portals in twelve-hour shifts. I think Anneke, Rachael, and me on the first shift, with Dael, Gabrielle, and Karrel doing the other. If she’s reached a civilized area, she’ll show up on some database somewhere and Jack’s position on Feodar’s World gives him access to most of them. He needs to be there and Jean-Paul has to settle the Viridians and listen for Kayelle’s call. I’ll leave the portal open so he’ll hear where ever he is.”

“What do I tell her parents and the Tetrarch?” Jean-Paul felt defeated. The last eight hours had drained him more than any other period in his life. He’d crashed from the euphoria of awakened love to the reality he might never hold Kayelle in his arms again.

“Stick to the truth. You went to the privy, came back to find her gone, and have been searching for her ever since. We’ll shift the portal close to the water and you can get your clothes dirty before you reach the house. Say you thought you sensed her in that direction and became lost looking for her. It’s wild country. Let them organize searches. I’ll link the portal to you and it will follow you around.” Peter’s decisive manner lifted Jean-Paul, giving him the will to proceed.

Knowing it was his fault made it worse. Had he not taken Kayelle into Limbo in the beginning, she could never have used the portal now. Peter thought Limbo was a mind concept rather than a reality and access to it required the mind’s acceptance of its existence. Without her first visit, Kayelle couldn’t imagine its existence and this mess couldn’t happen. Now she could be dead and he’d never know….

“Stop this nonsense now.”
Peter’s command sounded harsh, a rare display of anger. “
She’s alive. We’d know instantly if she wasn’t. Our task if to find her and bring her home.”

Jean-Paul recoiled. His father was right. He wouldn’t help Kayelle by futile hand wringing, or self-flagellation. She needed focused action and Peter showed the way. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m on my way.”

“Good.” Peter turned away to the portal he searched.

* * * *

Kayelle woke to the crash of the falling vase. Disorientated, she leaped to her feet to see a shimmering blue veil across her door, with the sense of Jean-Paul just beyond it strong in her mind. Following him was automatic and she found herself in a place hauntingly familiar. Limbo, the name came into her mind from nowhere, a place of waiting for a decision. She was alone; her sense of Jean-Paul centered on another veiled opening ten paces to her left. She hurried to it, extending her awareness.

Beyond, was a strange scene, groups of people carried past the opening by a moving pavement, emerging from a tunnel on one side and disappearing into another tunnel on the other.

Jean-Paul must be ahead of her.

Heartened by the thought, she stepped through, only to stagger drunkenly as her body fought to match the movement of the pavement and cannoned into an individual she hadn’t noticed.

“Steady, Lass. Where’d you come from? I thought I was the last off the shuttle.” The years she felt in his mind hid behind a merry grin. “You can’t go running around like that. They’ll think you a Pleasure Girl out of her licensed area. Wear my cloak till we get inside the Dome.” He shifted the garment from his shoulders to hers. “Pull the hood up. It’s always cold in the Admission Hall.” He fussed with the soft cord at its neck closure, tying an ornate bow.

Kayelle, who’d just realized she wore only a revealing nightgown donned specially for Jean-Paul, was glad of his kindness, for the shimmering blue veil had disappeared, leaving her no way back. Her sense of Jean-Paul had disappeared.

“Thank you,” she said. “I came in a hurry and forgot to dress properly.”

“Lass, I’m not complaining. I haven’t seen anything as good as you in more years than I care to remember, but I’m here to gamble at Xanadu Pleasure Dome. What’s your pleasure?”

Kayelle had followed his thoughts as much as his words and the germ of an idea in his mind answered all her immediate problems. She had to foster it.

“I’m following a friend,” she said. “We got separated and I don’t know where she’ll be.” Giving Jean-Paul a sex change removed an obstacle to his idea.

“Let her find you instead.” He’d taken the bait. “I’m heading for the high stakes table. The game is video cast throughout the Dome. We’ll doll you up and you can stand behind me to distract the other players.”

Kayelle nodded thoughtfully, entranced by the things hidden in her companion’s mind. Viridia seemed far away.

Dakar had been a gambler for one hundred and twenty standard years, ever since he’d escaped the constraints of his parent’s home and passed through a Federation portal. He wasn’t truly telepathic, just uniquely sensitive to others, a skill honed by thousands of hours at the card table. This game was his last. Once it ended, he was going home, back to the world he’d abandoned as a sixteen-year-old rebel, back to his Elite parents on Feodar’s World. There’d been great changes at home.

They’d deposed the Pontiff, rebuffed the Federation, and started modernizing under an Elite president. He wanted to become part of it, but not as a returning prodigal. He wanted enough wealth to return in triumph, his pride intact.

Kayelle smiled.
Some things never change
. Dakar’s story, the details altered only by their isolation, had played out a thousand times on Viridia, prodigal sons seeking their fortunes in other tetrarchies and not returning until they could return proudly.

“Well?” He reminded her she hadn’t answered.

“What do you want in return?” She might be from an isolated planet, unknown to the rest, but she knew men.

They’d reached the Admission Hall, a vast space under a high domed ceiling teeming with people, and his delighted laughter turned heads. “Nothing like you’re thinking.” He patted her on the shoulder. “High Rollers like me are provided with Pleasure girls as part of the service. They’re professionals, the highest class. I’ve grown used to the best. Your role is to help me win, nothing more.”

Kayelle’s face flamed with his casual dismissal, more so because she followed his memories of past services and thought them impossible.

“You, on the other hand, are free to dabble where you will. Just be there when I’m playing.” His thoughts on the activities she might undertake did nothing to reduce her color. “I’ll pay for your clothes, lodging, meals, and anything else within reason, so don’t hold back.” She felt his offer was genuine.

“Do we shake hands?” This was the Viridian custom for closing deals.

He gave another delighted peal of laughter. “I think sealed with a kiss is more appropriate.”

She didn’t know what to expect when he kissed her. She felt the mischief in his mind, and the avuncular peck on her lips caught her off guard.

“Stop worrying,” he said. “This is a business deal. Having you stand behind me is my insurance.” She couldn’t probe a dark area in his mind, a fear of something outside her understanding.

They joined one of the queues and shuffled forward with the rest until it was their turn at the turnstile.

“Place your right hand palm down on the screen,” the attendant instructed, indicating a flat sheet of tinted glass with the outline of a hand.

Puzzled, Kayelle placed her hand within the outline and had to force herself not to flinch at the wave of curious vibration she felt.

“Name?” The attendant sounded bored.

“Kayelle.”

“Planet?”

“Viridia.” She felt his interest spike and he glanced down at a screen hidden from her to see confirmation.

“Non-member entity,” he read. “You are our first visitor. This gives you guest status.” He turned aside and took a token from a gold box. “Present this token and validate it with your palm print. All charges will be met.” She felt his envy.

The turnstile buzzed, admitting her.

The attendant recognized Dakar and greeted him familiarly, wishing him luck in the game, and the gambler joined her, indicating a shorter queue on the far side of the hall.

“We’ll take the surface beltway. The underground shuttles make me claustrophobic”

Kayelle let him escort her, more interested in his thoughts than his words.

Guest status was a recognized commercial ploy, usually granted to the first five visitors from a new source, whether it was a world like Viridia, or an emerging society on some backward planet. Her palm print confirmed she didn’t exist in any database. They’d monitor her activities, gather information, and search for her world by backtracking her movements.

Kayelle smiled. She’d found nothing vaguely like the blue veiled doorways in his mind, although they seemed to have many similar properties to the portals to non-physical space providing instant travel through the galaxy. She suspected their search might be more frustrating than productive, but she left tracks now for Jean-Paul. He’d know all about databases and how to check them.

She felt good, her mind alert, taking leaps of intuition she would never have dared at home. No wonder Jean-Paul had such self-assurance. This was his environment, unimaginable even to the Tetrarchs. Before he’d given her a glimpse into his mind, this might have terrified her, now it fascinated her.

The surface beltway had four parallel belts at the entry. Each ran faster than the one before, so the final step onto the main belt was an easy one. Steadied by Dakar’s arm, she had no trouble. They emerged into the open through an air curtain, and the temperature rose appreciably under the reddish sun.

Other than this, it could have been the plains of Viridia, cropped close by the wandering herds, flatlands reaching to the horizon before them. Kayelle looked back at the receding dome of the Entrance Hall. Beyond it, she saw space ships, most a hundred-times-larger than Jean-Paul’s, landing and taking off in a continuous procession. She turned back in time to see the first spires of the Pleasure Dome pierce the horizon. Ten minutes later, she saw the upper curve of the burnished dome itself.

A last glance back showed how far they’d come and Kayelle felt a tiny quiver of fear. She’d committed herself. It was too late to turn back now.

“You look great.” Dakar offered his arm and Kayelle took it, secretly amused by his mental definition of “arm candy,” as she allowed him to lead her out of their penthouse suite.

A day of new experiences had seen her manicured, coiffured, and dressed in the height of Xanadu Fashion, although
dressed
was perhaps a questionable description. The total amount of material in her gown would have made a good-sized pocket-handkerchief on Viridia, and only strategic placement gave it a passing claim to decency.

Her gold token had more power than even Dakar’s reputation. The sight of it transformed every vendor into an enthusiastic artist, intent on achieving miracles. Her slightest desire became a royal command and they’d pampered and molded her into what they saw as perfection. Kayelle felt less sure, even when she sensed the reactions around her. Jean-Paul, she’d trust. Dakar, she thought genuine, but the others stretched her charity. They fawned and gushed on cue, but their thoughts betrayed their envy and hatred.