Contact (43 page)

“United Flight Fifty-eight, this is San Francisco radio. Go ahead, ma’am.”

She took a breath. “We’ve been gone awhile,” she began. “And, boy, are we ready to come home.”

The early spring morning was crisp and bright. Frosty dew coated the thick grasses that grew around the shed. Kào lugged two pails of grain out into the sunshine. His youngest of three sons, Joshua, dark-eyed and skinny, scampered along beside him, tugging on the bucket’s handle. “Let me help, Daddy!”

Kào smiled. “Josh, settle down or you’ll spill it all before we reach the barn.” The three-year-old tried, but for all his effort, he bounced along the path as enthusiastic as before. Sparrows dove down from the trees to peck at the fallen grain. Smoke and the scent of breakfast cooking filled the air. Sunday mornings were peaceful at the ranch, just the way he preferred them. Not a day, or even an hour, passed without him pausing to appreciate what he had: four children, three of them his own sons, and a wife whose love had changed his life. Yes, they argued from time to time—when the woman refused to see logic, he thought with a
smile—and they disciplined their children for various infractions, but Kào understood that his was a charmed life. Every year of the past ten had been stolen out of time.

An entire decade had passed without a word from the deep reaches of space. What had happened to Trist Pren? Had she died fighting? And what of the Empire—had the Talagars been victorious in the end? Or had the Alliance triumphed? Kào was afraid to know, as no one had yet come knocking on Earth’s door.

The hairs raised on the back of his neck. He tipped his head back and peered at the sky, a cloudless blue dome crisscrossed by the condensation trails of atmospheric craft. Who would it be, making contact when that day came?

Joshua’s fingers slid off the pail’s handle and more grain spilled. “A spiderweb!” he cried and darted away to a fence post in the clearing in front of the barn.

Wearing a smile of resignation, Kào set down the buckets and followed. As men who had cheated death often did, he tried to remember to stop and savor the simple pleasures, like sharing in the delight of a small child.

He crouched next to Joshua. Head to head, they observed the web glowing with dew. “Look at the way the water outlines the silk.”

Joshua touched his finger to the center. The web quivered, and the spider took offense, rappelling down to the ground. Joshua shrieked with surprise and threw his arms around Kào. Covering the back of the boy’s head with his hand, Kào held him close. He felt a thumping that at first he thought was Joshua’s heart. Then he realized it was the sound of a horse’s hooves coming up the dirt path.

He stood, hoisting Joshua onto his shoulders, and they looked to the road. Roberta appeared over the crest, her long blond hair bouncing around her shoulders. “Dad!” she cried, her face tight with alarm.

He lowered Joshua to the ground. “Go inside,” he told his son.

“But I don’t want—”

“Go, Josh,” he said, using the forbidding scowl he knew ensured compliance one hundred percent of the time. Joshua ran toward the sprawling cedar home. As he watched the boy, Kào couldn’t help wondering what wrenching moments his own father had experienced trying to protect him when he was that age.

Roberta’s chestnut mare cantered up to him. The girl pulled the horse back on its haunches. Kào caught the reins. “A car’s driving up the road,” she gasped. “With the kind of men you told us about.”

Government men.

Ten years ago, after several months of debriefing by all levels of government officials, some shadowy, some domestic and others international, the President of the United States offered to keep Kào on the payroll if he’d remain available to consult on all matters alien. He did, and it had given his family the financial freedom that enabled Jordan to leave the airlines, as well, as giving them their dream of building and living on the land in Colorado. But in the back of his mind, Kào knew the day would come when payment would be due.

Roberta jumped down from the horse. “Are they coming to tell us about contact?”

As she spoke, Kào could see the black sedan on the winding road that led from the highway miles back. He answered immediately. “Yes.”

Her nostrils flared in that same way Jordan’s did when she was frightened. He grabbed the girl’s shoulders and bent his head to look into her eyes. The agonizing worry he felt for his children was only a hint of what his parents must have endured the day the Talagars had come to Vantaar. “Boo, I want you to go inside and look after your
brothers. Don’t let them come outside. But tell your mother to come out here.”

She nodded. “Okay, Dad,” she whispered.

To this day, his heart squeezed from the sound of that particular word on this girl’s lips. He gave her a powerful hug. “I love you. Now go—run.”

She bit her lip and headed for the house. He watched her go until she was safely inside. Then he turned to face the car that had parked by the barn. Three agents donned suit jackets as they disembarked from the vehicle. Those he dealt with in these matters always dressed this way. He’d grown used to it. But they had never come here, to the ranch. He knew it meant that the news they had was what he’d both hoped for and dreaded for ten years.

The tallest man walked toward him, his arm extended. “Mr. Vantaar,” he said, shaking his hand. “Han Richards, Office of Homeland Security.” Introductions went around: Richards, an older man named Al Gutierrez, and Mel Lee, a woman.

Kào heard his front door slam closed. Jordan ran across the front yard. She was wearing one of his sweaters. It swallowed her slender body and fell halfway to the knees of her faded jeans. She took one look at the well-dressed trio, Kào’s expression, and went pale under her freckles. But she acted fully composed as she walked to Kào’s side.

His hand went in search of hers. Their fingers tangled. Hands clasped together, they waited for Richards to speak. “I have news,” the man said.

Kào asked simply, “The Alliance or the Talagars?”

Richards swallowed. “The Talagars—they were defeated.”

“
Yes
.” Jordan’s fingers convulsed over his, and she released a loud breath.

“First contact was made yesterday with officials of the Alliance.”

Kào shuddered and briefly squeezed his eyes closed.
Thank the Seeders
. “Have they landed?”

“No, nothing like that’s been cleared yet. The ships are in orbit between us and the moon. There’s going to be a lot to do between now and then. We’ll need you to come to Washington.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow. We’ll fly you there. You and your family. You’ll be at the president’s side when we announce the news to the public.”

The woman handed Kào a heavy-looking binder. He hefted it into his arms. There were times he missed the convenience of handheld computers. “There are several transcripts contained within that you might be interested in reading, sir,” she said. “Particularly the dialogue with Colonel Tristin Pren.”

Jordan punched her fist in the air. “Wa-hoo! It’s Trist!”

Although it wasn’t Kào’s nature to let loose his joy in a similarly vocal fashion, no one could say he didn’t know how to celebrate. Not caring that the agents looked on, not caring if he made a spectacle of himself, he swept Jordan off her feet and spun her around and around as he threw back his head and laughed out loud with a happiness he hadn’t felt in all his life.

The wildflowers blanketed the meadow later that spring. Three horses and a pony were already grazing in the soft new grass when Jordan and Roberta dismounted, leaving their mares to forage with their stable mates. A breeze carried birdsong and the sound of children’s laughter from a copse of aspens. “The boys are stealing all the strawberries,” Jordan said and looped her arm over Boo’s shoulders, her daughter, who had never given up that she’d come home, and who had inexplicably felt so much of what she experienced during her time on the
Savior
.

“Hurry, Mom, or they’ll get all the ripe ones.”

“Then we’d better run.” Jordan dashed ahead.

Boo’s laughter sang out. She was a sixteen year-old with an appreciation for life that rivaled her adoptive father’s. She raced her mother across the meadow. Then, hands clasped, they whirled in circles and spun away into the trampled grass. Sprawled on her back, Jordan flung her arms wide and gazed up at the cloud-dotted sky. So much lay beyond that blue. But she had no desire to see any more of it than she already had. Her children, though, especially the boys, she suspected would someday want to find their roots.

Boo sprawled next to Jordan, and Jordan hugged her close. Then the boys arrived, tumbling all around them like falling coconuts. Jordan grabbed them all at once, Nick, Eddie, and Joshua, kissing and tickling. They tasted sweet. Like strawberries.

“I wondered where all of you went,” a deep voice said a few moments later.

Joy welled up inside her. Kào . . . her husband, the love of her life. He stood over them, his dark form ringed in a corona of sunshine, like some god from the stars. She threw open her arms, welcoming him, too.

The boys squealed and rolled away. Boo rose to her feet, smiling indulgently at her parents from under her lashes before she followed her brothers, who had scampered back to the berry patch.

Kào settled his long body next to Jordan’s and nuzzled her neck. His cheek was scratchy; his soft lips warm as they nibbled and nipped all the exposed places he’d long ago learned were the most sensitive.

Warmth began to pool low in her belly. She’d been drowsy, lazy, content, but Kào’s affectionate caresses made her sharply aware of his body—and her own.

With the laughter of their children ringing in the distance,
they kissed, deeply, languidly, with banked passion. It was always like this with them. They could never get enough of each other, even now. After ten years, it was crazy to feel this way, but she still did. Maybe it would change now that they learned they had nothing more to fear from the skies.

But then his strong arms folded around her, molding her to his body as his mouth loved hers. Sighing, she smiled.
Hmm
, she thought.
Maybe
not.