“Thanks, Marta. I tried to look up Hera-3, but the records lack detail.”
“Yeah, I’m sure—little details about being bombed to hell by a black-ops fleet coming out of nowhere. Ben wanted the Board to authorize a full investigation via the Monitors, but they said it wasn’t cost-effective.” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “But my bet is that Ben’s still working on it.”
“I see.” Cara suppressed a shudder, hoping whatever Ben was investigating wouldn’t turn and bite him while she was around. She had troubles enough of her own.
They crossed back to the admin building, arriving just as Ben emerged from Crowder’s office. He smiled at Cara and headed in her direction, but got waylaid by Serafin. “If I was the lady, I’d divorce you. You might have invited us all to the wedding.”
Ben had the grace to look suitably abashed. Cara caught his furtive glance in Gen’s direction, and Cara’s suspicions were reinforced.
She focused a tight communication to Ben. *I don’t care what Crowder says, I’m not lying to these people. They know you too well. Marta’s just had to fill me in on your life story. Do you trust them?*
He nodded to her and held his hands up to quiet the congratulations of his team. “Sorry, guys, this isn’t quite what it seems, and Crowder’s being a manipulative bastard again.” He silenced their reactions with another hand wave. “Marta, can you activate the sound baffles in this room? Serafin, can you take care of the eyes temporarily?”
Marta hit a control close to her desk and Serafin selected a small black pyramid from his desktop and activated it.
“Secure, Boss.”
“Good. This is strictly need-to-know. Okay?”
They all nodded or murmured agreement.
“Thanks. Crowder’s doing it for all the right reasons, but this is a sham. Yes, I am married—or I was. My wife divorced me years ago.”
Cara breathed again.
“Cara had a bit of trouble. You don’t need to know the details. I brought her in on my ex-wife’s ID, courtesy of a friend on Crossways.”
“Mother Ramona?” Wenna asked.
“The very same.” Ben smiled.
“Then you’re not married,” Gen glared at Cara.
Cara wondered whether she should tell Gen that the coast was clear as far as she was concerned. She decided to default to saying nothing.
“Crowder wants me to set a good example by having my wife along on the journey,” Ben said. “For now, it seems that it helps with the settlers. We should keep the truth within this very select group, but I won’t lie to you all.”
“And I don’t want to be here under false pretenses,” Cara said. “Ben told you I’d had some trouble, but I sure as hell don’t intend to let it get in the way of doing a good job as part of this team.”
“You’re welcome, Cara, and thanks for being straight with us, Boss,” Wenna said.
“It’s not a habit I intend to break.” Ben nodded in acknowledgment.
• • •
With Ben away working on the logistics of loading the ark vessel so that last in was first out, Cara spent the next few days getting to know her new workmates.
Wenna, the office matriarch, held everything together. She’d wangled her way back to active duty again for the Olyanda mission, having been purely administrative since she’d lost her arm.
Cara wasn’t the only new girl. Anna Govan had only arrived a few weeks earlier to take over medical after some kerfuffle with the previous head, Ronan Wolfe, who had suddenly been dropped back to number two. Cara had not met Ronan yet as he’d been out at the settler compound since she arrived. Wenna had been oddly reserved when Cara had asked why the change, but Gen had just tapped the side of her nose and said quietly, “Tell you later.”
The opportunity came on Cara’s third day.
Gen pointed out of the window to a spherical building across the pink-turfed lawn. It was right on the edge of the Trust compound.
“There’s a grapple arena. Do you play? The Trust built it here as a sop to the city when they wanted to expand the compound. It’s a public building, but we have use of it when there are no official matches on.”
“I’ve played, but never in a full-size arena.”
“Tonight, then, straight after work. We’re playing trios, come and join us.”
“You probably have your teams all worked out.”
“No, we never play in the same formation twice. It’s a great icebreaker for newcomers.”
“All right, then, I’ll come.”
“Good.” Gen smiled. “I hope you’re good, I’ve arranged a needle match against Serafin, and he’s got Yan Gwenn and Suzi Ruka on his team. You’ve not met either of them yet. Yan’s in charge of transport, so he spends most of his time in flight control. Suzi’s our agriculture specialist. She’s been setting up extra training programs at the transit camp, but she’s due back later today with Ronan. She’s one tough woman, a real ball-breaker type, built like a battleship. Even her muscles have muscles.”
“Sounds charming.”
“Actually, she is.”
That afternoon, Cara sat at a workstation on the perimeter of the main office and began to familiarize herself with the systems. A couple of times she noticed Crowder walk through. Her skin prickled when she caught him looking at her. Looking wasn’t a crime, but she picked up the weirdest sensation from those looks. She didn’t think he trusted her. Well, that was all right because she didn’t trust him, either. Maybe she should give him a chance, but she didn’t really want to trust anybody at the moment.
She had trusted Ari and look how that had worked out.
At shift end Gen looked up and stretched. “Come on, I’ll take you to get a grapple suit and a pair of mag boots.”
As they walked over to the arena, Gen said, “You’ll enjoy this. Winning’s good, but it’s the loafing around in free fall that’s the best fun. I love it. On my last mission we ended up partying in a grapple arena after we got home. What a blast. Have you ever tried sex in free fall?”
Cara stopped as if she’d run into a wall. Sex in free fall. Ari had once hired a local arena just for that purpose. Equal and opposite reactions made intimate movement rather strange. Whatever force you exerted, it rebounded in the opposite direction, so you really had to grab hold and . . .
She went cold all over and couldn’t speak.
“. . . plays havoc with your bodily fluids.”
She caught the last little bit of what Gen was saying, but suddenly she couldn’t open her mouth to reply.
“Are you all right?” Gen asked. “Only you’ve gone gray. I know the story was a bit off-color, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”
Cara forced herself to breathe.
“I’m fine. I may be a bit out of practice, though—at grapple I mean.”
“Hey, it’s only a game.”
“Serafin’s needle match?”
“Oh, yeah, but I can cream him any time.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course. Besides, Serafin doesn’t know it, but I have Ronan Wolfe as third man. It’s fun, and we usually end up in the bar afterward.”
“Sounds good. You were going to tell me about Ronan—why he’s been busted down to second when he was heading up the medical team. What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing. Great doctor, nice guy.”
“So what’s the story?”
“It all goes back to Hera-3.”
“Seems like everything around here does.”
“Yeah, you had to be there to understand . . . We got hit hard from the air, lots of casualties. We didn’t have any firepower to retaliate. We regrouped in the mountains, but it’s hard to hide a couple of thousand settlers from heat-seeking ordnance. We had to clear out pretty damn quick, and some of the injuries were . . . grim.” She sucked in a breath through half-closed lips and then blew it out slowly. “We didn’t have enough transport for all the injured, and we knew everyone we left behind was going to be blo
wn to bits. Ronan was the one making the tough decisions on who to save and who to leave. Triage, you know. Save the ones with the best chance of surviving. Wenna had been hit. Her arm was pretty much a mangled stump, and she’d lost so much blood . . .”
“Ronan decided to leave her behind.”
Gen nodded.
“What happened?”
“Ben happened. He wouldn’t leave Wenna. Said not on his watch. He brought out Wenna and three others in a groundcar so badly damaged it scraped a furrow out of the rock. The others didn’t make it. Wenna lost the arm, but she survived—just barely.”
“And she blames Ronan.”
“Worse. He blames himself. Says he made the wrong decision. This is the first time they’ve been assigned together since then, and it was a big shock for Ronan when she arrived. Wenna’s been stuck with admin since she got back to active duty, but Crowder brought the old team back together partway through the Olyanda project—as many of them as he could, anyway. Ronan tried to transfer out, but Crowder wouldn’t let him. Ronan refused to be responsible for triage again. In the end they compromised and Crowder brought in Anna as chief medic over Ronan’s head.”
Cara wondered how Wenna felt about working with someone who’d wanted to leave her for dead.
• • •
When they arrived at the arena, it was all laid out for a game of trio. Cara took the one-piece cream softsuit and the pair of mag boots that Gen had requisitioned for her and followed Gen into the communal changing room. Serafin was already there with Cas Ritson, tonight’s referee, and Yan Gwenn, the pilot in charge of all the tech crew’s transportation on the new colony. They all stripped off their clothes and ziplocked themselves into the suits and boots.
Cara was just straightening up from putting her boots on when a tall woman with a slab-sided face came in.
“Hi, I’m Suzi.” She spoke Basic with a pronounced American accent.
“I’d have recognized you from Gen’s description,” Cara said, while Gen signaled behind Suzi’s back for Cara not to repeat her exact words.
“Let’s see, Gen’s description. That would be something like, built like a bull, bends iron between her buttocks.”
“She told me you were charming.”
“Yeah, I bet.” She looked across to Gen, much smaller and softer. “We’re gonna cream you tonight, Genevieve. Don’t think we won’t.”
“You and whose army?”
“We got an army. There’s me, Serafin, and Yan. You’ve only got the new girl, so far. Who’s your third?”
“Me.” Mr. Dark-and-Dashing walked in to the changing room. Cara took one look, then another. Ronan, obviously. In other circumstances she might have found him extremely attractive. Dammit, she did find him extremely attractive. He didn’t look like the sort of man to duck out on his responsibilities.
“My secret weapon,” Gen said. “Cara, meet Ronan Wolfe.”
“Hi.” Ronan flashed her an easy grin as he dropped his bag on the floor and kicked off his shoes.
“He played grapple for Magna colony while he was still at school,” Suzi said. “And he’s been the Trust’s interdepartmental grapple champion for the last three years in a row. You pulled a fast one, Genevieve.”
“Now let’s see who gets creamed,” Gen said, with obvious delight.
They finished getting ready and walked out into the arena, a fifty-meter sphere with a seemingly random assortment of poles and ledges jutting inward from every angle. Once the game was in progress every way was up.
“Gravity off.” Serafin gave the instruction to the arena’s AI and they all clamped on with their mag boots.
Cara wasn’t quick enough and she began to float.
She reached for the switch on her cuff and activated it.
With a resounding thump her boot soles dragged her the meter and a half to the floor where she wobbled and threw out her arms to balance.
“You all right?” Ronan called.
“Is that a professional inquiry, Dr. Wolfe?”
“Does it need to be?”
“No, I’m fine, just missed my timing. It’s a while since I’ve played. Maybe I’ll stay safely on the floor and let you do all the daring stuff.”
Ronan switched off his mag boots and pushed off hard with both feet, somersaulting in midair.
“From where I am, you’re hanging upside down from the ceiling.”
“Hoop,” Cas commanded from the referee box, and a ring made of resilient medonite shot from one of the vents into the center of the sphere. Ronan, already in position on one of the sidebars, propelled himself toward it, snatching it just before Suzi could. His glide took him to the far side where he ricocheted, connected with a ledge, and pushed off toward Serafin’s goal, dropping the hoop neatly through the loop.
“Ten points to us.” Gen pushed off from the wall and did a victory roll down the center of the arena.
“Twenty-nine minutes to go yet; don’t get cocky,” Suzi called out.
With Ronan on the team, they didn’t really need Cara, but she enjoyed watching the slow-mo cut and thrust of grapple played not only for sport, but for fun. The players soared and dived in and around each other in a graceful ballet of form and figure.
After a few minutes to get her stomach under control, she launched into the fray, reveling in the graceful flight from ledge to pole and back again. Ronan passed the hoop to her as both Suzi and Serafin targeted him for some minor mayhem, and she dropped it neatly through the loop.
“Three to Gen’s team,” Cas announced. “One to Serafin’s.”
The hoop went through the loop seventeen times altogether, nine of them through Serafin’s goal, making Gen’s team the winners by one goal and ten points.
“Whirly bath,” Suzi yelled. “And then the bar. Winners buy the drinks.”
Serafin yelled, “Gravity on.”
They all drifted to the floor as gravity increased slowly. Cara felt heavy and stiff.
“That bath sounds like a good idea.”
“It’s wonderful.” Gen put her arm around Cara’s shoulders. “Come on.”
“Next time, Genevieve. Next time we’ll paste you to the walls.” Suzi grinned, pulled off her softsuit, and threw it in the disposal bin. Heavy-breasted and stately, she waded into the large, circular communal bath and took up a position on one of the benches. Ronan followed her; Cara couldn’t help but admire his body. Gen jumped in next. The water was almost deep enough to swim, so she floated for a few seconds before finding her feet.
Cas nudged her sideways to get a place at the far side of the tub.
Cara threw her suit into the bin, too, and splashed into the water. It was pleasantly warm and the gentle bubbles soothed her skin.
“Hey, Ronan, would you do my neck?” Gen asked.
“Come over here, sweetie. Anything else you want doing?”
“If you weren’t gay, I might take you up on that offer.”
“If I weren’t gay, you’d have to fight me off.” He turned to Cara. “How about you?”
“I’m not gay, and I’m still deciding whether you might have to fight me off. Do you fight hard?”
Ronan made light banter easy.
“For my honor? Always.” He laughed. “Do you want me to do your neck or any other bits of your anatomy that ache?”
“Another time.”
“Every bit of my anatomy aches.” Serafin slid into the water delicately. “I’m getting too old for grapple. But I’m not gay, and I’m wondering whether Suzi would oblige.” He winked.
“Where do you want me to rub?” Suzi laced her knuckles together and cracked them, then grinned wickedly.
“Be gentle with me.” Serafin sighed and sank into the water. Suzi settled next to him.
“Gentle? Pah! I need practice. I’ve a score to settle with Boy Wonder over there.”
“Who’s settling scores?” Yan was the last man into the tub.
“Suzi’s going to take me apart with her bare hands next time we meet
in the grapple arena. At least I think she was only talking sport-type vengeance,” Ronan said.
“Yeah, you’re safe from me, body and soul.” Suzi laughed. “But Serafin might not be.”
She grabbed hold of Serafin from the back and pulled him into her lap. Then she wrapped her legs around his waist and began to knead the back of his shoulders. Her hands worked downward under the water and Serafin’s grin deepened.
“Hey, you’re pretty good for an old guy, Serafin. You wanna come and play out at my place tonight?”
Suzi leaned forward and whispered into Serafin’s ear. Cara heard him say “What?” and then grin.
Gen leaned over and said, “Increase,” into the command grill.
The bath began to bubble more fiercely. Cara lay back and let it froth and foam around her.
She must have closed her eyes only for a moment because she felt as though she was still in touch with what was going on in the tub, but an awful aching emptiness came over her, as if she’d forgotten something that she desperately needed to remember.
She blinked and opened her eyes again. Good, no one seemed to have noticed.
Then she looked again. Ronan, still massaging Gen’s shoulders and neck, glanced in her direction with a puzzled look in his eyes. Of course, he must be an Empath. He’d sensed her momentary confusion.
*If you need me for anything, just call.*
She nodded.
What a shame he was gay.
She sighed. Who was she kidding? She might sail the ocean, but she’d never go fishing, not while Ari van Blaiden was a shark in her waters.
Chapter Ten
ARI
Ari van Blaiden lounged casually against a desk in a dull green room. The furniture was sparse, one desk, two chairs. In front of him, bolt upright, sat a squat man with a scaly black head.
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