Nimbus

by Jacey Bedford

  Ben aimed Solar Wind’s nose at the gap and they punched through. None of the Nimbus fleet broke away to follow them.

  “Hold on,” Cara said to Tamsin and Nini. “Going to be a rocky ride.” She felt the whole ship reverberate as the torpedoes fired. “Are you hurt?”

  Tamsin stared, wild eyed, then started to laugh. “I wanted to take time to lock the doors. We would have been so—” She began to sniffle. “So dead.” She pulled Nini toward her and held on to the child as if she were going to evaporate.

  Cara heard firing, but didn’t like to say they weren’t safe yet.

  Gravity pushed them down and down. There was a blip as they reached the outer atmosphere and artificial gravity cut in. She hoped they’d cut through the invading fleet. She risked standing.

  “Everyone’s in there.” She pointed Tamsin to the mess. “Go and tell your mother you’re all right. Find a seat. Get settled.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “The refugees from Russolta are being sent to Earth, at least for the time being.”

  “Dad’s on Earth.”

  “Yes.”

  “He said Mom was never in any danger from Ben Benjamin. He was right, wasn’t he?”

  “Mostly. Sometimes good people get hurt, but Ben would never have hurt your mom on purpose.” She resisted saying: unlike your dad, but Tamsin was ahead of her.

  “My dad. Those things he’s supposed to have done . . .”

  “All true, I’m afraid. All for platinum.”

  “But he’s not a greedy man.”

  “It wasn’t for himself, it was for the Trust. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse. Do you?”

  Tamsin shook her head. “He’s always wanted a seat on the board. Said it was his right. Our ancestor, you see, Anne DiDoren, ran the Trust for fifty years. At least, that’s what he always said, but I checked our family history. I wanted to know where the connection was . . .” She sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “I couldn’t find anything in the records. Why would Dad say we’re related to Anne DiDoren if it’s a lie? He always said it like he believed it. Like he had a right to be chairman of the board because of it. I think . . .” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Mom says he’s out of control, and I think she might be right.”

  “Tammy?” Agnetha opened the mess door and leaned against the frame. “Nini? I was so scared.”

  “We’re all right, Mum. Ben Benjamin saved us. After everything Dad’s done.” She took her daughter’s hand and led the child to her grandmother’s embrace.

  Cara headed for the access tube to the flight deck. Ben Benjamin saved us, echoed round her head. Of course, he did. That’s what Ben Benjamin did. Couldn’t she forgive him one lapse? Was it even a lapse? He’d done a bad thing, but only for what he understood to be the greater good. And no one had been hurt—physically, at least. Gen and Max might never stop looking over their shoulder, but they had plenty of credits and a good ship. They’d make a life for themselves.

  She swallowed down a lump in her throat as she emerged on to the flight deck.

  “Are they all right?” Ben asked.

  “Yes. Shaken but not injured.”

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “Am I?”

  He touched his right cheek. “Here.”

  “Rubble from the explosion. I never even noticed.”

  She slid into the comms chair and dabbed her cheek with a fingertip. If that was the worst that happened on this trip, she’d escaped lightly.

  *Solar Wind, come in.*

  Cara recognized Mother Ramona’s telepathic voice filtered through Phoebe Tilston.

  *Here,* Cara said. *What’s wrong?*

  Something was wrong; she was sure of it.

  *We’re under attack.*

  And with every spare jumpship taking part in the evacuation, they were vulnerable.

  “Tell them we’re on our way,” he said.

  “What about the refugees?”

  “We don’t have time to take them anywhere. For now, they’re ballast.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  BLOCKADE

  BEN HEARD CARA WARNING THEIR PASSENGERS to prepare for foldspace. They entered with a rush.

  Wenna calls fifteen seconds and they’re out again.

  Rinse and repeat.

  Bouncing in and out like a stone skipping over a pond.

  It took four jumps to exit the Folds in Olyanda space. When they did, an amazing sight met them. A fleet of ships bristling with armaments hung in space. Between them and Crossways Station, a hundred unarmed civilian jumpships blocked the way, some of them shuttles, some of them freighters. Five from Blacklock, sixteen from Cotille. He lost count as they changed positions, flying a protective net pattern. There were ships from Keynes, from Prairie, from Blue Mountain, and from Cranford; in fact, from all over the independent planets.

  “That’s what the Crossways Protectorate is all about,” Cara said as another two ships popped into being from the Folds and joined the blockade.

  Ben took up a defensive position.

  “What’s happening?” Agnetha Sigurdsdottir emerged onto the flight deck without permission.

  “Someone is taking advantage of the situation to attack Crossways while her fleet is helping with the evacuation,” Cara said.

  “I wonder who that could be,” she said, heading for one of the bucket seats and parking herself there. “Would you like to hazard a guess? And if you did, would my ex-husband be somewhere near the top of your list?”

  Ben nodded. “I’d come to the same conclusion.”

  Close by, a ship solidified out of the Folds.

  “Monitors,” Wenna said, and magnified the image of the cruiser.

  “It’s Jessop,” Ben said. “Can you connect us, Cara?”

  *What are you doing here, Jess?*

  *I thought you might need some help.*

  *You’re willing to go up against these guys?*

  *It might not come to that if I’m here as your independent observer.*

  *Stand by, Jess.*

  “Cara, can you connect me with that fleet and link it with Crossways and with Jessop?”

  “Sure can.”

  It took Cara less than half a minute to connect everyone on audio.

  “Benjamin to armed fleet. Please stand down.”

  No response.

  “Benjamin to armed fleet, please respond.”

  Nothing. But they didn’t fire their weapons, and neither did Crossways.

  Ben looked at Cara. “They’re a decoy. Someone’s already on the station.”

  Cara connected to Mother Ramona through Phoebe. *We think this fleet is a decoy. What’s your situation?*

  *Everything’s quiet—or as quiet as Crossways usually is. Let’s call it normal, though the guys in Crossways Control might need a change of trousers. When that fleet turned up, they thought it was all kicking off again. Did you see the Protectorate ships out there? Like terriers driving off a bear.*

  *Have you had any kind of message or demand?*

  *Nothing.*

  *I don’t like it. Alert Syke. Put the station on lockdown. Coming in.* He switched focus. *Jess?*

  *Standing by as requested,* Jessop said.

  *Please back up this blockade.*

  Ben eased Solar Wind toward Port 46 while Cara alerted all the Free Company still on-station. With a population of half a million people, they were unlikely to be able to identify intruders until something kicked off, but when it did, they’d be ready. He hoped whatever kicked off didn’t involve the station exploding or massive loss of life.

  They slid into Port 46 and powered down.

  “Noncombatants stay put,” Ben said. He turned to Agnetha. “That includes you and your family. We’ll get you to Earth as soon as we
can.”

  “You can borrow my guards. They’re good and they take orders.”

  He weighed up their lack of local knowledge against ten extra bodies on the ground. “Right now, they’re more use here. This port could be one of the targets. Tell them to report to Franny Fowler. She’s in charge of port security. Whatever she says goes.”

  “No problem. Commander Benjamin . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “I apologize for my ex-husband.”

  “No need. You’re not responsible for him, but thank you, anyway.”

  The flashing red lights and droning alarms of station lockdown were muted inside Port 46, but out on the concourse the full effect hit them like an avalanche.

  *No one’s going to be able to ignore that.* Cara screwed up her face as if that would help.

  *Let’s hope not. Anyone moving around the station had better be Garrick’s or ours.*

  Wenna set off for Blue Seven to organize the remains of the Free Company into search teams. Gwala and Hilde stayed with Ben and Cara as they grabbed a cab.

  “Doesn’t Tengue need you two?” Ben asked.

  “He needs us to guard you,” Gwala said. “Shall I drive?”

  The cab had an override, which Gwala used. With their own screamer clearing everything from the roadway ahead of them, they made it to the hub in less than five minutes.

  A team of guards parted for them to run into the office complex beneath the Mansion House. Garrick and Mother Ramona were ensconced in a room full of screens that covered all the major thoroughfares. Every few minutes the image flipped to another length of corridor, plaza, or public space. The parameters were set to jump immediately to any eyes that spotted movement or anything out of place. The search teams cropped up regularly, but each had an electronic signal to identify them on the system.

  The eyes, some static and some mobile, flicked up image after image with nothing out of place. Their own security teams, made up of Syke’s militia, Tengue’s mercenaries, and Free Company, showed up regularly, but so far they’d found nothing untoward.

  A screen flashed red and drew their attention, but it was a couple of scrawny kids from Red One playing chicken with a drone eye, pulling faces, then laughing and running away.

  “Bloody hooligans,” Garrick said. “Since Kennedy moved to Olyanda, the little bastards have been running riot. I never realized how much influence she had or how much we should have thanked her for. She took a dozen with her. These are the ones who weren’t officially part of her feral pack, but I’m thinking of rounding them up and sending them down anyway.”

  An adult hand snaked out, grabbed one of the kids round the waist, and yanked him back. Another hand took the second boy’s arm and pulled. Ben’s immediate thought was that their parents had taken control and dragged them off to safety. With any luck, the kids would get a blistering telling off and learn from their mistakes, but then his mind replayed the scene. The arms that had dragged the kids back were buddysuited.

  “Can you follow the kids with that eye?” Ben asked. “Their parents could never afford buddysuits.”

  The operator, one of the station’s Psi-Mechs, flew a drone eye into the corridor where the kids had been but found nothing. No children, no parents. Nothing to show their passing.

  “They cleared off pretty quickly,” Cara said. Even for inhabitants of Red One who were professionals when it came to avoiding station eyes. “Check the side—”

  “Corridors. Got it,” the operative said.

  The little eye flew into the head of the first corridor, a dead end and completely empty. The second corridor was longer, but the operator abandoned it. “Got a fixed eye. We’d have seen them on Screen Fifteen if they’d gone that way.”

  The third opening was a narrow maintenance shaft.

  “Oh, shit!” Ben said softly.

  Two heaps of ragged clothes with a foot sticking out of one and the back of a head visible behind an outthrust arm told their own story, as did the blood spatters up the wall.

  “Syke, two teams to Red One,” Garrick hit the comm. “Corridor 38. Two children down. Service vent—” He looked at the screen. “Eighteen-D. Proceed with caution. Intruders, but we don’t know how many or where they’re going.”

  “But we do know they’ll kill children who look like they’re attracting attention,” Ben said.

  “Why Red One?” Mother Ramona asked. “There’s nothing there except the station’s underbelly. What are they looking for?”

  “Dido Kennedy,” Cara said.

  “She’s on Olyanda.”

  “Maybe their information is out of date. Maybe they’re not looking for Kennedy herself but access to her files, details of the retrofit drive.”

  “And once they’ve found it, what then?” Ben asked. “How much damage would a bomb do in Red One?”

  Mother Ramona’s white marbled face flushed pink with anger. “It’s close to the bottom of the core. If they blew the power plant . . .”

  “Wait until I’m through and then close all the blast doors,” Ben said, checking the pulse pistol at his side. Fully charged. Good.

  “You’re not going on your own,” Cara said.

  He didn’t know whether to be macho and tell her she had to stay behind in relative safety or to let her do what she was good at. He simply nodded.

  Hilde sighed. “Well that’s it, then. If you two are going, we’re coming, too.”

  “You don’t have to,” Ben said.

  “Yes, we do.” Gwala levered himself up from the wall he’d been leaning against. “Can you imagine trying to explain to Tengue that we lost you two?”

  “Tengue scares you more than the idea of a bomb?”

  Gwala glanced at Hilde and Hilde raised one eyebrow. “What do you think?”

  Cara ran for the elevator half a pace behind Ben, with Hilde and Gwala barely a pace behind her. Something at the back of her mind said, “Oh no, not again,” but she couldn’t choose her battles; only fight them when they came along. She’d said she’d stay until the jump gate issue was solved, but it might never be solved, not completely. Even if all the gates closed, there would still be some traffic through the Folds.

  An elevator stood waiting for them, doors open. Ben waved toward the camera eye and they all piled into it, feeling it plummet like a stone until it slowed, gravity pushing them against the floor plates. They came out into a lobby. Above them, they could hear the clang of blast doors dropping.

  They changed elevators again. This time, the journey down the core of the station was slower. Cara wanted to stamp her feet to speed it up, the way she had done as a child. Not that it had worked then, either.

  “Don’t be impatient to find danger,” Gwala said. “It will find you soon enough.”

  She had a sick fear that it would. Every time she took chances, the odds shortened that this would be the time she wouldn’t get away with it.

  And neither would Ben.

  They all set their retractable lobstered helms and faceplates.

  The elevator ground to a halt and the doors opened. The lobby was clear, but the red lights still flashed and the sirens still moaned. Ben gave her the universal cut-it-off sign and she passed the message on via Phoebe. The siren stopped. The red light blinked once and then was replaced with a calm white.

  *Syke?* Cara sought him out.

  *Corridor 31. Vent 18D Two dead children as reported.*

  She felt the emotion behind his bald statement. For all his veneer of formality and professionalism, Syke abhorred cruelty and needless death. She thought of his patience with Kitty, visiting every day, letting her talk. Listening.

  *We have a Finder,* Syke said. *One team is trying to track them from the traces left on the bodies, the other is scouting the main thoroughfare.*

  *We think they might be going to Dido Kennedy’s workshop. Mee
t you there.*

  The four of them jogged along the corridor, keeping contact with Phoebe in the screen room so they knew the way ahead was clear. Cara wished they had a Finder with them—specifically Max. She missed Gen and Max. They’d been closer than family.

  Ben halted everyone on the edge of the open square outside Dido’s former workshop.

  The last time they’d come here there was a stall busy serving food to the locals. Dido had fed them all, buying ingredients for her famous “Don’t Ask” stew, which, as far as Cara could discern, contained nothing identifiable except for its genuine vitamin supplements. Garrick had paid Dido for the patent on her retrofit jump drive, but rather than showing in her own lifestyle, the bonus had shown in better ingredients for the Don’t Ask, and stockpiles of food and medicine left with trusted friends in Red One.

  Cara checked the eyes again via Phoebe, and searched ahead with her Empathy to see if there was a flicker of emotion that would indicate intruders in the workshop.

  *There’s no camera eye in Dido’s place,* Phoebe said. *Shall we send you a drone eye?*

  “She wouldn’t have a camera, and we don’t have time to wait for a drone.” Ben was listening in. “We’ll have to go in blind. When Dido first hooked up with Yan, they made home an apartment above the workshop. There has to be a tube entrance from up there. Yan wouldn’t have missed a trick like that.”

  “There’s someone in there,” Cara said. “I’m getting a mix of fear, tension, and excitement all mixed up. I can’t tell how many but definitely more than two.”

  Cara passed the information to Syke who passed it to his second team. Syke’s own team came at the square from the opposite side.

  *Everyone’s in place, Benjamin,* Syke said. *On your mark.*

  Ben looked around to make sure they were all ready. *Let’s go. Mark!*

  Pulse pistol drawn, Ben barreled through the main entrance, bent double to present a smaller target. Cara, Hilde, and Gwala followed close behind, with Syke’s team after them. At the same time, Syke’s second team dropped down the access tube which put them behind four buddysuited figures standing by a bank of computers.