Contact (22 page)

He shook his head. “My presence will make some uncomfortable, in light of what happened.” She followed his gaze through the hatch. Inside Town Square, things were getting back to normal. A reading group gathered in the makeshift library. A few men Jordan recognized from the business-class roster were preparing to jog on the flexible track—the super-rat treadmill, Dillon called it. Pastor Earl was holding a Bible study, while Father Sugimoto sat hunched over in a chair, listening to a forlorn-looking woman recount her sins. When Natalie was done calming Ben, she’d meet her kickboxing devotees for an hour of Tae Bo kicks. All the children were in “school.” Jordan had worked hard to organize the activities, and she’d planned to make appearances at most of them after the staff meeting. But here she was, standing in the corridor with Kào.

“Your duties call you,” he guessed.

Her gaze whipped around to his scarred face. He had that uncanny way of reading her mind. “Your people aren’t telepathic, are they?”

He lifted a brow. “As in being able to read a person’s thoughts? I’m afraid not.”

“Well, you do a pretty good job of reading mine.” A fleeting expression of satisfaction crossed his face. “So, yes, duty calls. But, no, I don’t feel like answering.” She glanced up. “That’s awful, huh?”

“Not awful, Jordan. Human.” He brought his hand to his chin and studied her. “Would you like to see the arena?”

“The arena?” Yep, she’d read her translator right. He said “arena.” In the wake of Ben’s outburst, maybe he was going to feed her to the lions, then follow with the rest of her balky crew.

“It’s where I exercise every day. Since you mentioned that you enjoy working out, I thought you might like to view the facility. There’s exercise clothing stored on site for your use, should you decide to lift weights or run.” A mischievous twinkle shone in his eyes. “Or simply escape your duties for a short time.”

That giddy nervous feeling swept over her all over again. It still seemed surreal that she and this tall, forbidding man had spilled their deepest secrets on the observation deck. “I’m out of shape.”

“So am I.”

“Really out of shape.” He had no idea. She was so far out of practice with guys that just talking to one she was interested in tied her insides into knots.

But just as he’d patiently drawn her out that day on the observation deck, he wasn’t deterred by her foot-dragging. “When out of shape, it’s recommended that you work out with a partner.”

He tipped his head, waiting for her answer. He’d accept a genuine “no,” she thought, but he wasn’t going to fall for a weak excuse.

She smiled. “Okay. I’ll go. But I’ll have to find a baby-sitter . . . maybe a couple of baby-sitters.” She remembered the white janitor’s jacket he’d used to disguise her and asked, “Do you want me to change into a jumpsuit?”

He shook his head. “The jackets have a hood.”

He was serious in not wanting anyone to know that he kept company with her—off duty. “Wait here,” she told him. “I’ll be right back.”

Moments later, after briefing her crew on her plans, she was leaving New Earth and her needy charges behind. Natalie and Ben had been nice enough not to voice the disapproval she saw in their eyes.

Near the shuttle tube, Kào stopped at a locker and pulled out a long white jacket with a hood. She donned the disguise
as she walked along. Refugee to janitor in 10.5 seconds flat, she thought wryly.

Kào was taciturn, as usual. She didn’t mind. It allowed her to take in as many details of the ship as she could. One of these days, the knowledge might prove helpful. It made her excursion seem less of a jaunt if she used the opportunity to collect information.

But some of what she learned, she didn’t like. When he’d taken her to the observation deck, they hadn’t seen any other people. The ship had a smaller than usual crew, he’d told her, but here, in the main part of the ship, some were out and about. Those who crossed paths with them did so with uneasy greetings and humbly averted eyes. Jordan frowned. Were they afraid of Kào or repelled by him? Either way, he had to live with these people. No wonder he seemed lonely.

But Kào didn’t appear to notice the way the crew acted. Or maybe he didn’t care. He walked with his head held high, his body always wedged protectively between her and anyone who veered too close.

A pair of burly male albinos swept by, nodding respectfully at Kào. By now, Jordan was used to seeing the few Talagars onboard, with their snow-white hair and red eyes, but she’d stayed up too late last night reading about Talagarian atrocities, and curiosity pulled her gaze over her shoulder just as one of the muscular Talagar men looked back over his.

Their gazes met. Heest. A choking sensation rose up in her throat. He was the guard she’d knocked out with the escape slide.

Heest’s eyes narrowed. Surprise flickered in their crimson depths, followed by a disdain so pointed that it made her blood curdle. He’d recognized her. But he didn’t stop, continuing on with his buddy.

Jordan’s heart pounded against her ribs. So much for
Kào’s efforts to disguise her. Nervously she glanced at him, but he hadn’t noticed the exchange and carried on as detached as before, aiming his wrist computer at a panel mounted in the wall. An elevator appeared in the adjacent tube, and they climbed aboard. Kào selected their destination and tipped his head for a retina scan. Wherever he was taking her to work out had higher security requirements than the observation deck.

Jordan’s heart rate slowed, and she tried to put the red-eyed security guard out of her mind. A brief elevator ride took them down to another deck. The door slid open to a vast, featureless room. “The officers-only holo-arena,” Kào announced.

She whistled softly. The far wall of the arena was so distant that she could barely make out the details. To her right were computers and what she guessed was exercise equipment: a spiderweb of laser-light-connected graceful mechanical parts and buoyant add-ons. The entire setup gave the impression of wealth, with its muted colors, thick padding, and elegance of design.

“I’ve been on the ship for months,” Kào said. “But I’ve only recently resumed working out.”

He appeared so genuinely excited to be sharing this with her that she hated to have to break eye contact to reference her translator. “Are all Alliance ships this well furnished?” she asked.

He made a sound in his throat. “It’s acceptable for captains in the Alliance fleet to draw on their own funds to furnish their ships. Let me simply say that Commodore Moray is a man of means. This arena is impressive, even by his standards. The arena is equipped with voice-control. I registered my voice print yesterday. Let’s see if it recognizes me.” He spoke louder. “Computer. Holo-run—show options.”

The beige walls pixilated into a forest, lovely and alien.
Head tipped back, Jordan turned in a circle. The scene was so real that she expected to fill her nostrils with the fragrance of mossy dirt. Tree trunks were covered with velvety nut-brown scales and topped with drooping fronds. High above, the giants leaned into each other, their leaves laced together to form a canopy that muted the sunshine, tinting it blue-green. Birds that looked more like moths with split wings and featherlike antennae flitted and collided near the higher branches. Amazing. The entire room had transformed, just like that.

Boo, you would have loved this
. She braced herself for a stab of sorrow, but the unbidden thought of her daughter added to her pleasure in the moment. In a way, they were sharing it, she thought with a lump forming in her throat. “This is beautiful . . .”

“That’s the running trail over there.” Kào pointed to a sun-dappled dirt path that disappeared into a grove of gently swaying trees. She would have missed it if he hadn’t shown it to her. “Or we can run here. Computer. Holorun—show next option.”

The scene splintered into tiny squares and re-formed. Now they stood in the center of a field that swept away from them on all sides. Yellow-green grass billowed in a stiff breeze that she couldn’t feel, undulating to the distant horizon, tinted ochre by dust.

“Computer,” Kào commanded. “Wind, level four.”

A gust pushed her backward. “Ah!”

Kào caught her. “Computer—level two!” he shouted above the roar of the wind and her laughter. The gale had reduced to a gentle breeze. “I’m still getting used to the various enhancements,” he admitted.

She grinned as she shoved tangled hair out of her eyes. “I like this one, too. But”—she wrinkled her nose—“dust is hell on my allergies, simulated or not.”

“Computer,” he said. “Holo-run. Show next option”—his
dark eyes twinkled—“no dust, no dirt, no wind.”

She began to laugh, but the room shattered like a car windshield and fell away from them.
Literally
fell away. She saw sky, pale blue and dotted with white puffy clouds, on three sides. And below . . . she couldn’t force herself to look.

She threw herself backward to where her survival instinct told her there was a wall. Only after her back was pressed to the solid surface did she work up the courage to look down. Her feet were rooted on the only part of the floor that still appeared solid. But the black strip was barely wide enough to hold her feet. Her toes hung over the edge, below which a valley floor spread out before her. Indistinguishable from the real thing, the basin was dotted with vegetation and sliced through by a meandering river.

Her stomach plummeted, and she fought the almost overwhelming urge to pee. They had to be twenty-five thousand feet in the air at least, and here she was, an admitted acrophobic, clinging to the edge of a cliff.

“Kào,” she squeaked, her hands clawing for something to hold. But he’d already walked away, gazing all around him, clearly fascinated.

She tipped her head back against the wall and gulped. This was worse than the time she visited the top of the Eiffel Tower, a view she’d found impossible to enjoy because it couldn’t be viewed safely from behind glass.

“Jordan!”

Kào called to her. She was too petrified to reach for her translator. Panting, she felt a cold sweat prickling her skin. She pressed herself so firmly to the wall that she was sure her molecules and those of the surface fused.

“Come, Jordan. You can’t get the full effect from there.” He faced her as he walked backward. “The view is astounding.”

The view. He’d said something about the view. She didn’t care about the view. All she wanted was to see solid
ground beneath her feet. “Computer—next option,” she croaked.

The computer didn’t respond. And Kào didn’t hear her. He stopped, searching the scene around him. “Perhaps we ought to ask for wind. Level one? What do you think?”

“No wind,” she almost shrieked. A cold sweat prickled her skin. Her knees were shaking. She would have gladly slid to the floor, but she was terrified that the itty-bitty cliff wouldn’t accommodate her butt.

Finally it hit Kào that something was wrong. “What is it? You don’t look well.”

She brought the translator around to her eyes and chanced another downward glance. Big mistake. A flock of birds flew past, thousands of feet below. She crammed her eyelids closed.

“Are you afraid of heights?”

“Yes,” she gasped.

“But you’re a pilot.”

“So?”

His eyes glowed. “Airplanes go up into the atmosphere. Rather high, in fact.”

“It’s not the same thing. You’re strapped in a seat, behind glass. You can’t fall out. And don’t bring up the four laws of courage, either, because none of them applies. I know. I’ve tried them all. Let’s go to the next option. Is there a beach? I like running on the sand. Or what about that forest—that was nice. Yes. I like the forest.”

He regarded her from where he stood in the center of the sky, looking like a vengeful god from ancient mythology.

“So I’m afraid of heights,” she blurted defensively. “Nothing else bothers me. Don’t look at me like that, Kào. I’m telling the truth. I’ve landed airplanes in typhoons, pulled a dog from a burning house, killed a rattlesnake . . . with my bare hands.” Actually, she’d whacked it with a broom, but that wasn’t important now. “I ate a grasshopper,
a
whole
grasshopper, in survival school, and that’s not all.” She stopped to catch her breath, which was proving all but impossible.

Kào read his translator for long moments before he finally returned his midnight eyes to her. His dimple had returned. “The six-legged green insect, was it alive or dead?”

“Damn you, Kào, it’s not funny! Change the scene.”

“Exactly. It’s a scene, a simulation.” He stomped on the floor to prove it. “See? It’s not real.”

“This is an irrational fear. Reality has nothing to do with it.”

He started walking toward her and didn’t stop until he stood only inches away.

He towered over her. She could hear his slow, even breaths, could smell the sterilized fabric of his uniform and his skin—warmly scented with the apple fragrance of a recent shower and mingled with his own scent, one that was undeniably male.

She gulped.

“Jordan.” He said her name in that sexy, meant-for-her-ears-only voice, the way he sounded in her dreams. She shuddered, this time not from fear of heights but from fear of losing her heart, of giving in to her inexplicable attraction to a stranger of strangers, a man with a past so dark that the worst of her nightmares wouldn’t do it justice. But no man had ever touched her heart as he had.

“I’m not going to ask you to pretend your fear is not there,” Kào said in his deep, resonant voice.

“Good.”

“And I’m not going to force you to leave the wall.”

“Ah. Even better.”

“
You’re
going to do it.”

A thousand butterflies took flight in her stomach, and she chanced another downward glance. Her feet were planted firmly on the “cliff.” But Kào’s floated in the “sky.” Simply
looking at the sight made her queasy. But it also confirmed what common sense told her: The scene was a simulation.

It wasn’t real. If she stepped off the cliff, she wouldn’t plunge to her death. The only thing holding her back was her mind. Stepping away from the wall would have to be a choice, a conscious choice of which she had complete control.