Nimbus

by Jacey Bedford

  Ben arrived back on Crossways. The apartment felt empty without Cara. She was too far away on Olyanda for him to contact her mentally. His Telepathy was strictly short-range. He had to wait for her to contact him. She usually came through late in her day, but not always at a regular time. It was as if he took second place to her establishing Sanctuary.

  He knew Sanctuary was important, but he had too much to do to give it much thought. Cara and Jussaro were perfectly capable of handling everything. She spent much of her time with Jussaro these days. He could be jealous, but—well—it was Jussaro. Cara treated him like a favorite uncle.

  Her absence shifted the comms work onto the shoulders of the Free Company’s class twos. Some of them had to work in tandem to match what Cara could achieve on her own, but Ben was the first to admit that tying Cara to monitoring long-distance comms was a waste of her talents.

  They needed to recruit a few more class one Telepaths for the Free Company, but that wasn’t as easy as it sounded. They were rare, and the Free Company was a tight unit, formed in adversity. Even if they could find people with the appropriate skills, integrating newcomers wouldn’t be easy.

  He called into the office first to find Wenna in her usual place. Sometimes he wondered if she was hardwired to her desk.

  “Heard from Cara?” Wenna asked.

  He shook his head. “You?”

  “Not since a request for a couple of exoskeletons a couple of days ago to help them shift wreckage. I guess Sanctuary’s going to take a lot of resources.”

  “Yes. What do you think about it all?”

  Wenna rocked back in her chair. “If you’d asked me three years ago, I’d have shrugged it off. I was nice and comfortable, working for the Trust. It felt like security. I would have followed the company line and said anyone who went rogue was ungrateful when the megacorps gave them so much. Sure, I’d been on some shitty missions . . .” She waved her prosthetic arm. “But even though I knew things could get rough, I still trusted we’d be looked after. I trusted that Crowder would look after us.” Her mouth turned down. “But that was before the Olyanda mission. We’ve all gone rogue together and with good reason. We were lucky not to be fighting the system on our own.”

  “That’s what Cara did,” Ben said, “and Jussaro.”

  “And I respect them for it. I’m not sure I would have the guts to do what they did. So the short answer to your question is yes. I think creating Sanctuary here on Crossways, or down on the surface of Olyanda, is the right thing to do. If Jussaro and Cara are willing to do it, I think we should give them all the backing we can.” Her eyes narrowed. “You miss Cara, don’t you?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Only to me. And maybe to Ronan.”

  “It’s pretty much an open secret, then. Though Cara may not have noticed.”

  “That’s between you and her. You should talk about it.”

  And how would that work out? His mind flitted across possibilities. They were drifting apart. Did he have the courage to relax and trust that she’d come back?

  “I said you should talk about it,” Wenna said.

  He nodded.

  “Soon,” she said.

  “Soon.” Ben turned to leave. “I’ll be with Garrick and Mother Ramona if you need me.”

  Wenna was right. Probably.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  THIEF

  THEY’D BEEN ON OLYANDA FOR SIX DAYS. Once they had the exoskeletons that Jake had delivered, the job of clearing went much faster. Cara worked in one, strapped into it like the soft heart of a powerful robot. She’d not used one since the early days of settling Olyanda with the Ecolibrians and it had taken her a couple of days to remind her muscles how to move in one of the lumbering machines, but now she used the machine like an extension of herself, to clear rubble and haul usable panels and equipment. They’d borrowed an earth shovel from Leah Nolan and sorted the debris into recyclable and non. They used the non as a foundation for a rampart around the compound. They’d eventually top it with a perimeter fence, but that was a task for later. They’d also set aside material to be recycled by the settlers in Broccoliburg who were expanding outward.

  “Hey, Carlinni.” Jussaro nudged her foot as she lay, fully clothed, on her bed.

  “Can’t a girl get some sleep?”

  “I brought you coffee.”

  “Oh, sure, that will help me sleep.” She sat up and pulled a blanket around her shoulders.

  Jussaro handed her a mug and sat on the empty bed next to hers. The air mattress dipped under his weight. The other beds were still unoccupied since there was a giant mojo tournament taking place at the other end of the shelter. Voices rose and fell with every shake of the twelve-sided dice.

  “Our week is up tomorrow. The next year depends on the assessment. Your assessment, I guess, as the project leader.”

  “I’m only taking point on the site reconstruction. Sanctuary is yours.”

  “All right, first things first. Are you going to report that the site can be salvaged?”

  “I think we’ve proved that.”

  “Then what?”

  “As I said. Sanctuary is yours.”

  “I want to share Zandra Hartwell’s knowledge with you, the contacts and the unlock codes . . .”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with a wave. “You don’t have to do the actual unlocking, but you may need to pass on the knowledge one day. And I want to bring in Vina Daniels. We’re going to need an implant specialist and she’s the right one for the job. I’ll give her the unlock codes, too, and also—unless you can see any reason why not—I’ll give them to Civility Jamieson. What do you think?”

  Cara tried to gather her thoughts. “I think Vina is the perfect choice if she’ll take the job.”

  “And Jamieson?”

  “He’s an arse, but he’s brilliant at what he does. He can help people with those codes, and that’s what he’s good at. He doesn’t actually give a shit about the individuals, but he likes to win. Those codes are made of win as long as they stay secret.”

  “And you?”

  “Let me think about it. There’s Ben to consider.”

  “He’s not a great believer in Sanctuary.”

  “He is, but it’s not his primary concern right now. He’s trying to keep the Free Company together and support Garrick while keeping an eye out for what the megacorps are going to do next.”

  “And he wants to do all that with you at his side.”

  “He does. And I want to be at his side, or I want him at mine.” She sighed. “Garrick pledged to support us for a year, and Ben agreed. I’ll give it a year and then I might want to reassess.”

  She sipped her coffee.

  “I’ll leave you to think about it. Get some sleep.”

  “Sleep? You brought me coffee,” she said to his retreating back.

  “I heard your trip didn’t exactly go according to plan.” Mother Ramona crossed her elegant legs and sipped from a glass of iced tea.

  Ben had opted for hot tea, and a mug sat steaming and ignored on the small table beside his understuffed arm chair.

  They were in Mother Ramona’s retreat, a corner of the Mansion House that she’d managed to make look like the den she used to favor when she lived alone. It was messy and organic, with a sagging couch covered in throws, overcrowded shelves stuffed with memorabilia and a few real paper books—antiques by the look of the bindings—and file boxes. Datacrystals lay scattered in front of the holographic screen on her desk. It blinked occasionally as it cycled through a holding program.

  “Not exactly. We weren’t planning to get blown up, or lose a potentially sound ship, but one of my crew retrieved the ship’s system files. I’m looking for someone who can crack them. I figured you might have someone on staff.”

  “You need a good th
ief.”

  “Isn’t that a contradiction in terms?”

  “Okay, you need a thief who’s good at the job.”

  “I’d have to be sure of loyalties. I still have a bad taste in my mouth about the Alphabet Gang.”

  “Yes, they were a disappointment. Garrick has made it clear they’re no longer welcome on Crossways.”

  Mother Ramona uncrossed her legs and sat forward. “I have someone in mind—a pair of someones actually: J.P. Lister and his wife Pamela, known as Pami. They’re a bit of an odd couple, but they’re not likely to turn assassin. When you see them, you’ll understand why. I’m not sure J.P. actually has a first name. No one ever calls him anything but J.P.”

  “You trust them?”

  “They’re in it for the money. Offer them enough, and they’ll take the deal. I trust them enough not to sell out to anyone who offers them more. A deal is a deal as far as they’re concerned.”

  “That’s refreshingly—honest.”

  She laughed. “Honor among thieves.”

  “Okay, set up a meeting.”

  “I already have. I anticipated your needs. They’ll be at the Koshee Corner House for the next hour.”

  “How will I know them?”

  “Ask for table 24. J.P. is the brains, but he wouldn’t be able to function without Pami. Don’t assume she’s purely decorative. She is that, but she’s a lot more as well.”

  He levered himself out of the chair. “Thanks for the tea.”

  “You haven’t touched it.”

  He leaned forward and picked up the mug, still a little too hot. He sipped twice and put it down again. “There.”

  Mother Ramona chortled and waved him away with one hand. “Keep us informed.”

  The Koshee Corner House was one of the station’s premier meeting places. Plenty of deals took place here, so each table was equipped with privacy baffles. It had come through the battle without a scratch thanks to its position close to the hub on the second level.

  “Table 24,” Ben told the receptionist. “I’m expected.”

  He followed her into the restaurant, ordered tea, and turned to meet the Listers. Mother Ramona had only half-prepared him for the odd couple before him. J.P. was in a float chair, a stick-thin man, sharp-featured, possibly in his late thirties, and with a bush of ginger hair that waved as if in a breeze, despite the air being still. Pami was probably the most beautiful woman Ben had ever seen. Every feature was perfect, including her dark eyes, unblemished mid-brown skin, straight nose, and kissable lips.

  Stop! What was he thinking?

  He lips twitched up at the corners. She knew what effect she had on him. It was probably the same effect she had on every straight male within a radius of a hundred meters. She half raised one eyebrow.

  “Commander Benjamin. We were expecting you. Say hello, J.P.”

  “Hello, Commander.” J.P. elevated his chair, so he was on Ben’s eyeline. “Pleased to meet you. Mother Ramona told us you might have a job for us. Do sit down.”

  Ben sat and J.P. lowered the chair so that he was at the same height as Ben.

  “A job, yes, I need a security system cracked.”

  He held out a datacrystal, a copy of the original. Pami leaned forward across the table showing cleavage that ate a corner of Ben’s rational mind. He didn’t know where to look. Well, yes, he knew, but the jiggling beauties were trying to claim his attention. The eyes, Ben. Look at the eyes.

  Pami took the datacrystal, examined it, and handed it to J.P.

  “Eastin-Heigle.” J.P. saved the day by drawing Ben’s attention to himself as he wrapped his fingers around the crystal and closed his eyes. He had a light voice that had a tendency to squeak like a teenager. “Interesting, Commander Benjamin. What would you have us do?”

  “Crack the security and tell us how to access the ships safely.”

  “You need someone to break in,” Pami said. “Don’t let my husband’s physical appearance fool you. Losing the use of his legs didn’t damage his ability to work.”

  “And by work you mean—”

  “Steal. Yes. I’d like to think that, given time, there isn’t a security system in the galaxy that J.P. can’t crack. There isn’t a single item we can’t retrieve.”

  “Safely?”

  “Of course.” She almost purred. “But it’s inanimate objects only. We don’t deal in kidnap.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Eyes, Ben, look her in the eyes! Her face was distracting enough in itself.

  “How long?”

  “How long have we got?” J.P. asked. “Is it a rush job?”

  “It’s not life or death, but we’d like to address it as soon as possible.”

  J.P. cleared his throat. “We haven’t talked a fee.”

  “I don’t suppose telling you the station will be very grateful would carry any weight?”

  J.P. cocked his head to one side, raised one eyebrow, and gave Ben one of those looks.

  Ben sighed. “I didn’t think so. What’s the bottom line?”

  Pami smiled. “Five thou retainer while J.P. looks at the systems, then twenty-five thou per vessel recovered. The first twenty-five thou to be deposited in escrow before we depart Crossways.”

  “You’re coming on the actual job?”

  “I said not to let J.P.’s mobility fool you. We need to be there. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  Cara waited for Ben on the landing field, her bag packed. She’d had a sleepless night and then in the early morning had come to a decision. It was her turn to wake Jussaro for a change. She had a slight headache from the infodump, and now all that knowledge was rolling round in her brain. She’d need a while to sort it all out. The megacorps would kill for the unlock codes and information about Sanctuary that she now carried.

  *Thanks, Jussaro. Once more I’m a target, or I would be if anyone knew about this.*

  *You’re welcome, Carlinni.* He picked up her thought and tossed it back at her.

  Jussaro and Archie Tatum were continuing the cleanup in her absence.

  She was jittery with the thought of seeing Ben again. She missed him. It had only been a week, but there had been the months before that when she’d been hunting for Zandra Hartwell. Her time at home had been too short and interrupted by her work and Ben’s.

  Home. She examined the concept. Yes, impersonal as it was, she considered their small shared apartment in Blue Seven to be home.

  She didn’t try to contact Ben while he was dropping into the atmosphere from Crossways. He was an experienced pilot, but drilling down through the atmosphere was still dangerous, so she didn’t distract him.

  She heard the ship before she saw it and knew immediately it was Ben’s small Dixie Flyer, not the Solar Wind. Strictly speaking, it was the Trust’s Dixie Flyer. No psi-tech ever owned the expensive equipment they operated. Not that the Trust was ever going to get the Dixie back—though it was probably one more thing on the charge sheet that sat in every Monitor station on this side of the galaxy.

  Solar Wind purred, the Dixie screamed as she dropped down. Then the tone lowered as she made her final approach and settled neatly onto the landing field on her antigravs.

  Cara waved, picked up her bag, and began to walk.

  Ben opened the side hatch and stepped down the ramp, austere in his black buddysuit. Her own buddysuit moved with her like a second skin as she picked up speed. Three paces away she dropped the bag and reached for him.

  “Missed you.”

  “Missed you, too.”

  His hug was warm, but his kiss was only a peck on the cheek. Then he held her at arm’s length.

  “It’s happened, hasn’t it? Jussaro’s given you the codes.”

  She nodded. “How did you know? Am I suddenly walking around with a sign on my forehead that says: Open here
for secret information?”

  “Not quite, but I know you. You look as if you’re carrying an extra burden.”

  “Well, in a way, I suppose I am.”

  He pulled her to him again and she didn’t resist.

  “You could have said no,” he whispered.

  She shook her head against his chest. “I couldn’t.”

  He kissed the top of her head and let her go. She slung her bag aboard the Dixie and climbed in, settling into the passenger couch with a sigh. “I could do with a nice long space voyage so I can rest up. I’d forgotten what hard work an exoskeleton is. It’s been like the early days with the Ecolibrians, but at least we’ve gone a whole week without a storm, and the guys at Broccoliburg traded us some fresh meat for sugar, so there have been a few high spots. Are we going straight to the wrecks?”

  “No.” Ben shook his head. “I’ve hired a couple of Mother Ramona’s retrieval specialists—”

  “You mean thieves.”

  “Precisely. J.P. Lister and his wife, Pami. Let’s call them an unusual couple and leave it at that. J.P. cracked the safety codes from Eastin-Heigle’s system download in less than twenty-four hours. I’m taking them out with a retrieval team to see if we can liberate a battleship.”

  “Oh.” Cara bit back her disappointment.

  “Wenna’s looking forward to having you back in the comms chair.”

  “It’s about time we recruited another class one.”

  He compressed his lips and gave Cara a long look. “Sorry about that. You understand why I have to go with the retrieval team.”

  He did look sorry. “I guess so.”

  It should make it easier to tell him she’d promised a year to Jussaro and to Sanctuary, but somehow it didn’t.

  The trip to Crossways was a short, six-hour hop, not even needing a jump through the Folds. Though they were next to each other on couches in the small cabin space aboard the Dixie, conversation was desultory . . . almost forced.

  They landed in Port 46, a few hundred meters from the Solar Wind.

  Ben pecked her on the cheek again. “I have to go.”