Empire of Dust
Page 12
Ben punched the autopark, and they left the hoverpod to settle itself down among a host of similar machines. Cara’s handpad was already logged on the system, and she had instant access through security on the ground floor. Ben led the way via the maze of corridors and antigrav shafts up to the third floor.
Gabrius Crowder was working in the operations room, leaning over a large table that resembled an antique military maneuvers board, except this one was circular with the spiral arms of the galaxy represented two dimensionally. He moved small exquisitely carved figures from one position to another.
“Ben. About time, too, and this must be the lovely Mrs. Benjamin. Welcome, my dear.” Crowder’s smile was open and easy, maybe too open and easy. Cara suppressed a shudder and began to say that she was using her own name, but his attention had swung immediately back to the board.
“Engage,” he said. The figures leaped upward to hang suspended, and the galaxy became three dimensional.
“There, Ben.” Crowder’s finger touched a pinpoint in the myriad stars. “Cotille colony. That’s the latest. We’re beating Alphacorp by more than fifty and the next nearest is Arquavisa, and they’ve only got three hundred and thirty-six.”
Cara studied the two men. Ben, tall and lean; Crowder, wrinkled and shapeless. She hadn’t expected him to look like a pachyderm. He was gray and running to fat. Parts of him sagged like old elastic. He stooped slightly and had round shoulders from all the desk-jockeying.
Ben had warned her that Crowder had a needle-sharp mind. On the workaholic scale of one to ten, he’d reached at least nineteen and still had some potential for growth. He made no secret of the fact that he was hungry for a seat on the Board of Trustees. The Olyanda project had been his since he’d won it from Alphacorp for the Trust; if it went well, it would take him one step nearer to his ambition.
Cara’s scalp prickled as she was introduced to him. Something at the back of her mind said, I don’t trust you. Though he had a receiving implant, he also had a damper that effectively blocked her empathy. Well, perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised. Ari had one, too, and it was fairly common for people with a lot of important secrets in their head to take precautions. She shrugged it off for now. Perhaps she was looking for reasons not to trust her new boss after making such a stupid mistake with Ari.
She forced her face into a polite smile.
“Mr. Crowder, I prefer to use my own name, if you don’t mind.”
He flicked his head in her direction as though she was an insect that had annoyed him briefly and then carried on as if he’d not heard her. He handed a plasfilm to Ben. “Staff list.”
Ben read down the list and frowned. “You’ve got Cara listed as Benjamin.”
Crowder shrugged. “There’s a good reason for that.”
Cara went cold all over, then hot.
“You’ve got to be joking!” Ben said.
“Dear boy . . .”
“You only use dear boy when you’re trying to lay one on me. What’s up?”
Crowder sighed. “Victor Lorient’s up. The settlers have insisted on a social segregation clause in the colony contract; no fraternization between psi-techs and settlers. Lorient has said, not in as many words, you understand, that he doesn’t want any bastards with psi tendencies left growing in settler bellies after you’ve left.”
“Even if . . .” Cara shook her head. “A basic psi tendency is virtually useless without an implant and training.”
“Quite.” Crowder turned and smiled directly at her. For some reason she wanted to shudder. “But Lorient really dislikes the idea of psi anything.”
“I bet his colonists can’t prove they don’t have some inherited psi gene somewhere in their family tree.”
“But since all our psi-techs obviously carry the gene, there’s a perceived greater danger from any genetic input that we leave behind, so they want as many of our psi-techs as possible in settled relationships. You know their stance on traditional marriage, so it panders to their sensibilities if we follow suit where we can. I’ve had to massage the figures a little to make it look good, but if my mission commander takes his new wife along on the trip, it looks as though we’re making an effort.”
If Crowder had had just a hint of a smile on his face, she’d have thought he was joking. The idea was just too ridiculous. She suppressed a laugh when she realized Ben was less than amused.
“That’s not going to fly. Cara and I barely know each other, and besides, I went through the whole traditional marriage thing once because Serena wanted it, and look how that turned out . . .”
Cara shot a look at Ben. “He’s not joking, is he?” She turned to Crowder. “This is not part of the deal.”
“If you want to go back to Mirrimar-14 . . .”
She picked up a wave of surprise from Ben at Crowder’s threat. He’d been as blind-sided as she’d been.
Although all her instincts told her to turn around and walk out of the office right now, out of the building and out of Benjamin’s life, she didn’t trust Crowder not to call the Monitors. How far would she get? Besides, if Crowder wanted to get antsy, she’d taken an advance to get the new ID on Crossways. She needed to play along. She didn’t have to like it, though.
She bit back a juicy retort involving Crowder doing impossible reproductive things with his own anatomy, looked down so he wouldn’t see the resentment in her eyes, and shook her head quickly.
Crowder didn’t seem to pick up on her real feelings. “Good. What you two make of it is up to you as long as it looks convincing to the settlers. How you play it with the rest of the crew is also up to you. Probably best to keep it under wraps before lift-off, of course. Don’t want any . . . legal complications.” He gave Cara a long, level look. “I’m taking a lot on faith. Ben tells me I can trust you, and I trust Ben, but I want you to know that the mission is paramount. If you jeopardize it in any way, the trouble you’ve had before, whatever it is, will seem insignificant compared to the trouble I can conjure.”
Cara nodded again, suddenly dry-mouthed. What a bastard! But at least he was open about it. “My personal troubles can’t follow me to Olyanda without going through you, Mr. Crowder, and though Olyanda may be a bolt-hole for me, it doesn’t mean I’m a passenger. I’ll give the job everything I’ve got. I’m good at what I do.”
Crowder nodded. “There’s a lot to learn in a very short time. It may not be entirely pleasant, but it’s probably expedient for Cas Ritson to transfer the information directly. It’s probably the only way to assimilate it all in time to be useful.”
She nodded, groaning inwardly at the thought of an implant-to-implant infodump. It was like being smashed on the head with a hammer.
“Why don’t I have someone give you the grand tour while Ben and I ponder the staff lists?” Crowder thumbed the mechanical comm. “Ms. Marling, are you available to escort a new team member around our fine establishment?”
Less than a minute later the outer office door opened, and a young woman walked in, She was petite, with Asiatic coloring, dark-haired and almond-eyed, but there was something about her that lifted the whole package from pretty to beyond beautiful. Cara felt dowdy in comparison even in the tasteful black suit that she knew complimented her figure and paler complexion perfectly.
“Mr. Crowder.” The newcomer’s face split into a warm smile. “Hey, Ben.”
“Gen.” Ben nodded, not quite smiling. Cara suddenly got the feeling that he was embarrassed.
Crowder looked from Gen to Ben and back again. “Ms. Marling, would you show Mrs. Benjamin around the facility? She’s joining the team for the Olyanda mission.”
The smile froze on Gen Marling’s face, but she made a good recovery. Ben gave her the faintest suggestion of a shrug.
Cara felt entirely stuck with something she didn’t want but didn’t know how to get out of without chewing it over with Ben first.
*Is there something I should know?* she asked Ben on a tight thought. *You and Miss Marling?*
Cara decided to see how it all played out. If all else failed, she could cut and run and be no worse off than she had been on Mirrimar-14. She stood up and smiled brightly at Gen. “I’d love to see everything.”
Chapter Nine
GRAPPLING
Gen walked with Cara rather than leading her. She smiled and said, “Mrs. Benjamin¸ eh?”
“Please, call me Cara. Or is everyone formal here?”
“Only Mr. Crowder. You and Ben got properly married? That’s a smart move to get on the Eco’s good side.” Gen’s voice was just a little too bright. “Mr. Crowder has been pushing everyone to partner with someone for the duration of this mission.”
“Are you?”
“What?”
“Partnered.”
“Not anymore.” Gen shook her head and looked at the floor.
Cara began to get an inkling of the problem.
She followed Gen down a couple of pale, marbled corridors into a large open office. There were no privacy screens, but she could hear the faint not-quite-noise hum of sound baffles surrounding each desk in its own silence.
Half a dozen people worked at a variety of desks and stations. All wore the standard blue-and-black Trust uniforms with psi-tech insignias. Gen didn’t need to raise her voice round the sound baffles. She slipped straight into broadcast.
*This is Cara Benjamin—Ben’s wife,* she announced. *Come and say hello.*
Cara felt all their eyes turn toward her at once. Some looks were surprised, others just curious. An attractive gray-haired woman was first up out of her seat.
“Hi. I’m Anna Govan, Chief Medic on this trip, both before and after takeoff. Come to me if you need any bodily functions or mental traumas sorted out.” She reached out and touched Cara’s bruised head gently.
“Thanks. I’m over the worst now,” Cara said.
A fresh-faced strawberry blonde, possibly fortyish, looked surprised, then gathered herself and smiled. “I’m Morwenna Phipps, Exploration and Mapping. I’ll be Ben’s Second on this trip. Please call me Wenna.” She held her left hand out to shake. “Sorry for being lopsided,” she said. “That’s the one that feels. The other one’s biosynthetic, and they haven’t got the nerve grafts operational yet. I’m living in hopes. Works well enough, but it’s not very personal, if you know what I mean.”
Cara nodded and took her hand.
“What’s your designation, Cara?” Wenna asked.
“Psi-1, Telepath.” Again, she didn’t mention the empathy.
“Nice. Welcome aboard,” Wenna said. “Crowder must be especially pleased to see you. We’re desperately short of long-range comm-techs.”
“Yes, indeed. Marta Mansoro.” A dark-haired woman with glistening, scaly silver-black skin and gills on the side of her neck introduced herself. The way it came out was more like Mansssoro with super-sibilant esses. “Head of Ssstoresss and Sssupply.” She raised one eyebrow and half-smiled. “An unfortunate desssignation for sssomeone of my sssubssspeciesss.” Cara smiled in return. Mansoro looked and sounded like an adapted colonist from the water world of Aqua Neriffe. She gave the palms-together greeting that her mother had taught her and was rewarded with Marta’s delighted laugh and the return gesture.
“Me next.” A tall brown man with iron-gray hair stepped forward. “Gupta, not-security. Name’s Vijay, but no one ever calls me anything but Gupta.” With his upright bearing, he looked every inch an old soldier.
“Not-security?” Cara asked.
“Not officially.” He grinned. “We don’t have a security team on this run. The settlers are supposed to police themselves. I think my team’s official designation is Maintenance. What we maintain is entirely up to the mission commander.”
*Cas Ritson.* The psi-tech whammy that surrounded the dark, dumpy woman was undeniable. She was definitely a Psi-1 and staking her claim to seniority with the strength of her broadcast, just like someone shaking hands with a bone-crushing grip.
*Pleased to meet you.* Cara deliberately didn’t try to match her, though she was sure she could if that was all Cas had. It wasn’t a contest. She wouldn’t be part of the team for more than one mission. *I believe I need to talk to you about an infodump.*
*Whenever you’re ready.*
“Serafin West, Engineering and Construction.” An older man grinned at her and spoke out loud. “Sonovabitch, you’re a surprise! A pretty one, though. Ben’s a lucky dog.”
Cara tried to keep all the names in her brain at once. It was a useful party trick. Tag each name with some minor fact as an aid to memory. Anna Govan. Gray hair. G for Govan; G for gray. Serafin West. Serafin. Sounds like seraph. Angel. Anything less angelic would be hard to imagine. Serafin was pure gargoyle, crinkled like a walnut and weathered like sandstone. Wenna. She’d remember Wenna’s prosthetic arm and she’d heard Ben’s conversation with Crowder. She gathered Wenna had been injured on Hera-3. She made a mental note to try and ask for details sometime. Marta Mansoro. With gills for survival on her home world giving her strange throat architecture and three esses for every one unless she was talking telepathically. Shoulders like a man. Man; Mansoro.
For each person she built a little pictorial connection in her mind. She was sure that once she got past the first day, she’d be fine, but it was good to remember names right from the beginning.
“Here’s a workstation,” Gen said. “Things are pretty hectic. You’ll be lucky if you see much of Ben between now and takeoff. Crowder will be on his case bigtime.”
“They don’t get on?”
“Oh, they get on just fine, but sometimes they don’t agree about how to do things.”
• • •
Cara got a lightning-fast tour around the offices, the ops room, and the training gym from Gupta, while Gen went to sort out her accommodation. Then Marta took over as her guide to the prep area, a long, low building across the compound where small stores and personal tools and equipment were being crated ready for shipment up to the ark, currently loading in orbit around Chenon. Cara had to listen hard to pick up what she was saying because of the sibilance.
“Have you worked with Ben for a long time?” Cara asked. She knew Hera-3 was a touchy subject.
“I knew him from before the Trust, when he was with the Monitors.”
“Monitors?”
She’d registered the brief reference in the earlier conversation, but not had the opportunity to ask about it. Ben didn’t look like an ex-cop—whatever an ex-cop was supposed to look like. Cara didn’t seem to know as much about Ben as everyone else did.
“Didn’t you know him then?” Marta asked.
Not wanting to lie, Cara just shook her head.
“He had a tough time on the Rim. You ever hear of the Londrissi hijack?”
It had been big news, galaxy-wide. A big Trust liner, held to ransom in an unpressurized docking bay of the Londrissi Leisure Station. The hijackers had started to jettison victims into the vacuum. The team that went in to end it took heavy losses.
“I saw Ben soon after. I knew he’d had it up to here with the Monitors. Did you know he pulled Crowder out of there? Saved his hide for sure. Crowder got the Trust to buy him out of his Monitor contract. Ben has worked for Crowder ever since. That’s why they’re pretty good friends, even if Crowder pretends to pull rank every now and then. Crowder kept Ben working for the department after Hera-3. It might even have been Crowder who talked him into staying.”
“Should I avoid asking about Hera-3?”
“It was a big, ssstinking conssspiracy. The colony we were setting up was wiped out. No one knows who attacked, but we all know it had something to do with newly discovered platinum deposits.” Her voice shook, but whether with anger or sorrow was hard to tell, maybe both. Whichever it was, it heightened the sibilance.
“It all happened very fassst. We lossst too many—colonistsss and team alike.”
&nbs
p; “Pirates?”
Marta took a deep breath and got the sibilance under control again. “If it was pirates, it was the best equipped bunch I’ve ever heard of. Had the kind of resources only a megacorp could come up with on short notice. And it was short notice. The news had barely broken before they were on us.”
“You think it was a megacorp?”
“Could even have been the Trust itself. They had as much reason as any, since the colonists were planning to sell the platinum on the open market.”
“Crowder?” Cara asked, wondering what she’d walked into.
“No, Crowder’s straight, but the Trust is so big it could have been any one of a hundred other departments or regions. Ben was ordered to evacuate the team and leave the colony before the strike. Of course, now no one can find a trace of that order, but we were there when it came through. We know.”
“He just left civilians under fire?”
“’Course not. Not Ben. Ben held them off while we pulled fifteen hundred settlers off the planet with almost no resources. It was a miracle, but we still lost too many civilians and all but fifty-seven psi-techs. How we got out is a longer story than I’ve got time for now. You’ll have to ask Ben sometime. When we got home, Ben went head-to-head with the men upstairs. I heard he took his suspicions as high as the Board, but I don’t know for sure. Ben’s not talking.
“Anyhow, the next thing we heard Ben had been disciplined and demoted.
“We were all, Ben included, offered the option to leave the Trust, free and clear, all debts suspended. How often do you hear of that? Once any megacorp has its claws into you, you never pay off the cost of your implant and your training, so you’re stuck on contract for life, building up debts for your professional indemnity insurance and maintenance of your implant. We represent millions of dollars’ worth of investment, yet the Trust offered the opportunity for fifty-seven of us to walk away free and clear on condition we signed confidentiality agreements.”
“You’re still here.”
Marta shrugged. “I like my job and I had nowhere else to go. No family. No dreams to chase. A lot chose to cut and run, and I don’t blame them, but twenty-three of us stayed on. We all thought Ben would quit, but he stuck it out.” Marta shook her head as if still slightly puzzled. “He saved fifteen hundred colonists and they knocked him back to stinking survey work as a reward! The rest of us were split up, but we kept in touch. You don’t go through something like that without bonding. They’ve finally brought us together again. All twenty-three Hera-3 survivors are on the Olyanda mission.”