The three of them arrived back later than anticipated to find the first long, low tunnel-shaped riser had already been erected by Serafin and his crew.
As darkness fell, they all gathered to eat rehydrated rations, sitting companionably at the long communal table set in the gap between two of inflated beds.
Wenna came in, pale from cryo, her hair still wet from the shower.
“Hey, Wenna, over here,” Cara called.
“How are you doing?” Ben asked, shuffling up to make room.
“Why is Chembal the single, most unpleasant-tasting thing in the whole universe?”
“We’ve got field rations to eat.”
“I take it back—the second most unpleasant-tasting thing in the universe.” Wenna dropped down into a chair and rubbed her eyes.
The door opened again and Ronan entered. He didn’t quite look in their direction, but it was obvious from the stiffness of his back that he was self-consciously avoiding doing so. He grabbed a ration pack and took it outside.
Wenna sighed.
“Is he still avoiding you?” Ben asked quietly.
“Sadly, yes.” She massaged her arm. “When we have to communicate, he’s so polite it’s painful.”
“Hang in there, he’ll come round.”
Serafin got up from the far end of the bench, wandered over to the serving table, and helped himself to caff. He walked past Suzi Ruka and lightly ran his hand across her back. A few minutes later, she got up, nodded to him, and walked out into the compound. He followed her.
Cara watched them leave and smiled to herself.
Wenna chuckled. “Do they think they’re being subtle?”
Ben caught on to what she said. “Suzi and Serafin again?”
“Looks like it,” Wenna said. “I’m glad. I hope it lasts this time.”
Cara spooned down the last of her meal, nutritious but bland. “It’ll never replace real food.” She pulled a face.
“Come and look at this.” Aster, a junior med-tech, hovered in the doorway, half in, half out of the riser. “Best aurora I’ve seen in a long time. Sunblock tomorrow.”
Fastening the neck of her buddysuit, Cara followed Ben outside and then stopped and gaped. Across the whole sky a rainbow of gossamer curtains—green and yellow, blue and subtle violet, row on row, fold on fold—dangled and shifted from a midnight-dark sky.
“Listen!” Cara turned her face up to the shifting pattern of incandescent light. A hush fell on the small knot of people, lonely humans, a pinprick on the surface of the vast cold planet. Above them, like the winds of forever, whistling over an empty plain, the aurora crackled with energy.
No one wanted to break the moment.
Wenna was the first to leave. Gradually people started to drift toward their beds until only Cara, Aster, and Ben remained.
Aster yawned. “I’m dead on my feet, and I’ve got an early call in the morning. Good night.” He turned back into the riser.
Neither of them moved, but with Aster gone, Cara was suddenly aware how close Ben was. It was as if the distance between them held infinite potential. She froze. It would be so easy and so natural to step into his arms.
Ben smiled. “I think he was trying to give us some time alone. Is it going to be hard playing Mr. and Mrs.?”
“Harder here than it was on Chenon. We should make it public.”
“The people who need to know, know. If we open it up wider, won’t we risk the settlers finding out?”
“I suppose so.”
“So should I give you a good night kiss, Mrs. Bemjin?”
She was never going to live down the Bemjin thing, but coming from Ben it was as much an endearment as a tease. She rocked toward him, then caught herself and stepped back.
“No need to go too far. Let’s be thoroughly professional people who act like good working partners unless the doors are locked.”
“There aren’t any doors yet.”
“There will be, soon.”
“And when the doors are locked?”
Yes, what then? She cleared her throat. “Then we can relax without having to pretend. Good night, Ben.”
Cara slipped back inside to her bedroll. Cocooned in her airquilt bag, she lay awake for about half an hour, images of Ben and Ari chasing themselves through her mind. All around her were gentle snores and deep breathing, but Ben’s bedroll remained stubbornly empty. He still hadn’t come and taken his place next to her by the time she drifted into sleep.
• • •
*Hey, Nan, just wanted to let you know we arrived safely.* Ben spoke to his grandmother via Cara’s link.
*Reska. Always nice to hear from you at . . . uh . . . three in the morning.*
*Ouch, sorry.*
*Don’t be. I’m having to get up every couple of hours to check on a milk cow that’s got mastitis. She’s one of the elderly ones, and we’re a bit worried about her. Rion sat up with her all of last night. Ricky volunteered to sit up with her tonight and let us know if there was any change, but last time I checked he was fast asleep in the straw.*
*How’s he doing?*
*Still spaceship mad. I don’t think Rion’s going to turn that boy into a farmer. How are you doing, Cara?*
*Fine, Nan, thanks. Your grandson’s keeping me pretty busy.*
*How are the settlers taking to it?*
*They’re still in cryo,* Ben said. *We’ve only been here a few days.*
*Keep ’em in the deep freeze until you’re just about to leave.* Nan’s thought rippled with the equivalent of a mental laugh.
*You’re not the only one to suggest that,* Ben said.
*I know this kind of long distance exhausts most Telepaths. You tired yet, Cara?*
*I’m doing all right, Nan.*
*Well, get some rest now and keep in touch.*
*We will.*
Ben pushed a bottle of water into Cara’s hand. “Thanks for that. Above and beyond the call of duty.”
They were on the redundant flight deck of the landing vehicle. Ben had claimed it as his retreat.
“Happy to oblige. I like your Nan.”
“She likes you, too.”
• • •
Cara spent the next three days at Ben’s beck and call as his comm-tech, envying Gen who was flying survey. The temperature was up to plus five and it felt quite balmy, though the layer of radskin on her exposed flesh helped to keep her warm as well.
The compound looked like chaos, but Cara knew there was an order to everything. She watched Serafin’s team, working in gestalt to excavate the foundations for a med-center. The dig was accomplished using thousands of tiny drill bots controlled in swarms by Psi-Mechs with their implants. The area looked as if a miniature earthquake was turning the soil to the consistency of a dry liquid.
The sky darkened. Rust-streaked clouds roiled in from the west, a solid front looming in a matter of minutes. An icy gust of sub-zero wind hit her in the face. Cara shivered and turned up the thermostat on the cuff of her buddysuit.
“Looks like a storm blowing up,” Ben said. “Open a channel for me, please.”
She did. *There’s a storm coming.* Ben broadcast. *You’ve had the warnings. Don’t leave anything out in the open unless it’s tied down.*
*Can I have volunteers to help finish this riser?* Serafin asked. *Once the ends are in place, it’ll withstand almost anything the weather can throw at it, but right now it’s as good as a sail.*
*I’ve got five pilots who are grounded,* Yan Gwenn offered. *You can borrow them.*
Another icy gust slapped Cara hard, making her ears sing and taking her breath away.
*How many survey flitters are in the air?* Ben asked.
*Three,* Wenna replied. *Gen’s is the closest to the storm path. She’s flying north to try and get out of the way. The other two are farther away. They’re in a little turbulence, but nothing that will hurt.*
“Let’s see how much Serafin still has to do.” Ben sprinted across the compound and Cara followed.
The second riser, in line with the first, was almost completed. Serafin had pulled four Psi-Mechs off digging foundations, and they were all moving the riser sections into place while the five pilots steadied them and bolted them to each other, then sealed the medonite joints with a heat inducer.
The far end of the riser was already in place, meaning that if the wind blew before the other end was built, it would be likely to lift the whole thing from its stout ground moorings. They needed to complete the structure fast to keep the wind out. Both Ben and Cara joined the ground crew, bolting and sealing, bolting and sealing. By the time the last arch section was in place and they were ready to position the curved end, the sky had turned deep green-gray. Huge spots of icy rain splashed down straight and heavy. Then the wind gusted again and lashed the rain sideways.
Cara worked with numb fingers, not daring to stop to pull on her gloves or weather helmet even though her suit beeped to remind her. One gust of wind followed the next until it was nearly continuous. She struggled to draw breath against it. Icy water streamed down her hair and face, dripping off her jawline and running down the shoulders of her buddysuit. Her suit’s heater kept her body temperature up, but she felt chilled to the bone.
*Last piece,* Serafin said.
They’d all given up trying to make their voices heard against the roar of the wind and the creak and crack of the bioplas and medonite panels. Between gusts they worked in a wordless ballet, hive-mind.
The wind snatched the corner of the last panel from Cara’s frozen fingers and she felt a nail tear down below the nail bed. That was going to hurt later, but for now she grabbed at the flapping corner with her other hand and held on until another pair of hands reached over to grab the edge.
*Got the bastard!* Serafin grunted in satisfaction. Ben leaned in to steady it into place. Between them, they held on while three Psi-Mechs fused the final section.
*Quick, inside.* Serafin ran for cover and they all crowded through the door and slammed it closed.
“Phew!” Archie Tatum grinned. “Just in time.”
“Everyone all right?” Ben raised his voice above the din.
“Fine, Boss.”
“Yeah, fine. Thanks for the help.”
*Is everyone under cover?* Cara broadcast.
There was a shower of answering affirmatives. She listened for a moment longer, for any weaker distress calls, but there was only a steady mental silence.
She turned to Ben. “No problems. Everyone’s found shelter. Gen’s way off course, but she’s down and safe. The other pilots are clear of the storm’s path.”
The rain smashed against the side of the riser as the wind built up, howling through the landing site like a banshee.
“Get down, just in case,” Ben said and they sat on the floor in a huddle.
If the riser went with the wind, there would be little they could do but cling to each other. Something clanged into the bioplas, overhead, and Cara ducked instinctively, but the wall held.
The storm raged on for over an hour at the landing site and then died as suddenly as it had come, leaving behind a palpable stillness.
Chapter Fourteen
REVIVAL
Marta Mansoro found Ben in the Mapping office in the aftermath of the storm as he was checking weather patterns.
“I have your Dixie Flyer, still under wraps. Where do you want me to put it?”
“Did you have any problems getting it on board?”
“Nah!” Marta waved her hand. “Well, a couple, maybe, but nothing I couldn’t fix.” She grinned. “There have been one or two comments, but no one’s questioned it officially.”
“Thanks. I owe you.”
“You sure do.”
“Have Yan Gwenn put it in the Mapping hangar, but ask him to keep the wraps on it, please.”
“You’re not thinking of leaving us, are you, Boss?”
He pushed his chair back. “I hope not. My sweet little old grandmother taught me never to build a house with only one door.”
“Boss, those of us who’ve worked with you before have learned to go with your feelings. You’ll get your flyer delivered and stowed before the first settlers start sniffing around.”
• • •
The new settlement at Landing looked like it had been there for several months instead of just one. Cara worked comms for Ben. She saw everything unfold. This scheme was beautifully put together; a credit to Crowder. Whatever she thought of him personally, he sure knew how to assign the right people to the right jobs.
She said as much to Ben. They were in Riser One, snatching a late lunch and trying to keep out of Ada Levenson’s way because she was still trying to get Ben to shuffle the erection of the kitchen to the top of the priority list.
“It’s a good team by anyone’s standards,” Ben said. “Oh, look, rescue me, please. Ada’s on her way over.”
“Hey, Boss, have you talked to Serafin yet?” Ada asked.
“Excuse me.” Cara got up and headed for the washroom, trying not to grin at Ben’s don’t leave me alone with this woman look.
She left him trying to explain to Ada that the most important thing in the early stages of a new settlement was the order in which things got done and that the ark had been packed on a last-in, first-out basis.
“You’ve done wonders with the camp kitchen, Ada. If you can do so well with next to nothing, I’m looking forward to you getting a kitchen, just as much as you are, but . . .”
Cara counted to ten, then turned and hurried back to Ben. “Wenna needs you in Mapping,” she said. “It sounds pretty urgent.”
“Coming.” Ben stood up. “Sorry, Ada. Got to go.”
Cara headed for the LV and Ben caught up with her halfway across the compound.
“You lie like a professional.” He grinned at her. “Thanks. I’d better show my face in Mapping or my cover story will be blown.”
Cara had tried very hard to remain neutral, but she had to admit, even to herself, that she liked Ben Benjamin. He was a good friend to have.
Perhaps it was because their relationship had begun with casual sex that she’d originally had a hard time actually believing that he would not, eventually, make a move in that direction. He was, after all, very masculine.
Cara pulled herself up sharply. She desperately wished she could rewind their first meeting and replay it without the sex. She knew that she’d seriously misjudged Ben at first. Sex wasn’t a price she’d needed to pay to get his attention.
She veered away from that embarrassing thought.
• • •
The shuttles, pot-bellied things with cavernous cargo holds, began the task of ferrying down essential supplies, equipment, and livestock for the new colony. Every piece of cargo, every domestic animal, beast of burden or core breeding stock, cost many times its worth to ship, but its value here was incalculable. Every kilo of medonite, every sack of seed, every ingot of metal, every tray of rations carried a heavy transport penalty, so the inventory had been calculated to the last gram and the stowing order finely tuned so everything was unloaded in the right order for the experienced teams to deal with.
The broccoli trees yielded wood that was close-grained yet easy to work, and it was already being put to good use.
Temporary infrastructure grew out of chaos: the med-center, with its cryo resuscitation units; accommodation risers; storage sheds; and, finally, a food hall with a fully equipped kitchen. Ada Levenson was happy again. As long as it was biologically compatible, had some food value, and wasn’t actively poisonous, her team would figure out a way to make it edible.
Eventually, with all the psi-techs awake and working, it was time to begin reviving the settlers, Victor Lorient and Jack Mario first.
Cara was curious about Victor Lorient. She’d seen him on holovids, of course, but he’d avoided visiting HQ on Chenon and she’d never met him in the flesh. His reputation said he was charismatic, and so she was hardly prepared for the hollow-eyed, gray-faced figure
sitting wrapped in a foil blanket in the med-center recovery room. His face seemed to be out of proportion to the rest of him, all nose and cheekbones.
“Director Lorient.” Ben offered his hand and, after only a slight hesitation, Lorient stood shakily and took it. “My . . . wife, Cara.”
“Commander Benjamin, Mrs. Benjamin.”
Cara felt Lorient’s clasp, cold and flaccid, slither off her own. He barely touched her before snatching his hand away. He was probably still dazed from the cryo, poor man. “Sit down, Director. I always feel disoriented when I come out of cryo. I hate the hardy types who can shrug it off as though they’ve just been asleep overnight.”
Lorient grimaced. “I didn’t expect to feel quite so . . . weak.”
“Have you had a Chembal ration?” Ben asked.
Lorient’s mouth turned down at the mention.
Cara sat down next to him, wondering if she’d done the wrong thing when he stiffened and inched away from her, but she kept her voice light. “That looks like a yes. Just make sure you drink plenty of fluids for the first couple of days. Speaking of which, can we take you across to the food hall and get you a nice cup of tea? Any flavor. It’s all powdered, of course, but it’s warm. It’s two hours to lunch, but if you’re hungry, there are ration packs.”
Lorient turned slightly paler at the mention of food.
Ben looked around. “I was expecting Jack Mario to be here, too.”
“I’m afraid he’s one of your hardy types. He’s already on his feet and exploring.”
As if summoned by his name a compact muscular man appeared in the doorway. His thick physique made him appear almost squat, but he was only a few centimeters shorter than Ben. He wore standard-issue fatigues. His cropped dark hair was still damp and spiky from the shower, but he looked wide awake and full of energy.
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