Crossways

by Jacey Bedford

“Maybe we’re the ghosts in foldspace and they’re real. Or maybe, since, theoretically, when we enter foldspace we’re passing through every point in space and time simultaneously, we’re actually ceasing to exist in any of them for a moment. Maybe reality is only what we can hold onto in our mind.”

  “So if we decided the monsters were real they could attack us?” She shuddered. “Maybe that’s why the first thing they teach us in flight school is that they’re not. I’m going to stick with that if you don’t mind.”

  If that was as good as he was going to get, maybe Kitty was right, she wouldn’t ever get it. Not all pilot-Navigators did, despite what they told you was possible in flight school. Pity. It would have been very useful to have someone else who could pilot Solar Wind, especially with Gen’s pregnancy.

  “Permission granted to pass through the blockade,” Cara said. “Oleg Staple says good luck with the mercs. They’ve surrendered their weapons to Nolan and taken over what remains of the landing complex as their territory, but they’re not showing any signs of wanting to cooperate with the ground troops.”

  “You know these guys, Kitty,” Ben said. “What’s your take?”

  “They’re a tight unit. Good soldiers. Very professional. Did their job well, but liked to keep to themselves when they weren’t working. I can see them not wanting to get sucked into a bigger force and losing their group identity.”

  “I’m not taking Solar Wind down there,” Ben said. “If something goes wrong with these negotiations I’m not risking the mercs getting their hands on her. Yan can keep her in orbit and I’ll take Kitty down in the Dixie to negotiate.”

  “You’re not going without me,” Cara said.

  “Nor me,” Ronan said.

  “Be reasonable,” Ben said. “The Dixie’s only a two-man flyer.”

  “With cargo space and a couple of bucket seats for emergencies,” Cara added. “We’re only shuttling down from orbit.”

  “You need a couple of Empaths,” Ronan said, “if you want to know whether Tengue’s word is good.”

  “Did you guys argue the toss as much when the Trust paid your wages and I had Commander on my pocket flap?”

  Cara grinned at him.

  The wider view of Olyanda as they dropped down through the atmosphere was of a planet with significant ice extending from the poles to cover maybe two thirds of the surface. The equatorial band was blue-green with ocean and fragmented landmasses. It had been a land of so much promise to the agrarian settlers who had hoped to make a home here, before the discovery of platinum dashed their hopes. Finding significant platinum deposits was like winning the lottery and then discovering your ticket was coated with poison. Unless you had the backing of one of the big megacorporations—in which case they’d take over administration, for your own good, of course—you might as well kiss your ass good-bye. Keeping platinum required significant firepower and a steady nerve.

  From ten kilometers up Ben could already see the gray scars of strip mining on the alluvial lowlands and a crater in the highlands where platinum nodes had been exposed. He was too high to see it from here, but one processing plant was already under construction and a second would follow shortly.

  Not for the first time, Ben wondered about the ethics of resource stripping and the effect it had on the natural environment of a virgin world, but the need for platinum overrode all other considerations. The hungry jump gate system would crash without it. The voices of conservationists had been silenced by the might of the megacorporations.

  Ben dropped the Dixie Flyer down to the field where the first shuttle ships had landed. Rows of low tunnel-shaped buildings, known as risers for their speed of construction, clustered around the original colony landing vehicle, a single-use, saucer-shaped craft used as the psi-techs’ admin base. Wherever he looked there was blast damage, but the LV had survived and some of the risers still looked weather-tight. It had been his home, however temporarily. He’d worked with good friends, shared a bed with Cara, been part of its triumphs and disasters.

  Beyond the temporary town the fat silver river flowed on undisturbed, its banks lined with broccoli trees. Suzi had had a fancy Latin name for them, but they looked too much like giant broccoli ever to have their real name applied except on reports.

  Everything had seemed so hopeful only a few months ago. Ten thousand Ecolibrians, back-to-basics settlers, building homes and breaking new ground. It should all have been idyllic, but there had been trouble even before the platinum had been discovered. Lorient had been a nightmare from the first, a classic psi-phobe. And they wouldn’t be free of him until the colony was resettled somewhere safe, and the thirty thousand missing settlers either found or finally laid to rest.

  When Ari van Blaiden had arrived, intending to rip out a fortune in platinum and settle an old score with Cara at the same time, it had brought things to a head. Finally Lorient had focused on a bigger threat than the psi-techs and had accepted Ben’s plan to sell Olyanda to the biggest crimelord on Crossways as the only way to get his people out alive.

  Ben settled the Dixie a couple of hundred meters short of the flitter bays on an apron of fired earth. Close up, the whole of Landing looked like a war zone. If any of the flitters had survived the final fight, the Crossways ground forces hadn’t left them for the mercs.

  Ben let power bleed away and popped the door. “We’ll wait here and see if we get a welcoming committee.”

  “It looks deserted.” Ronan peered at the scanner, set to magnify. “Just a few wrecks. You’re sure the mercs are here?”

  “Sure as I can be,” Cara said. “Tengue said come in person. He didn’t say he wanted to play hide-and-seek.”

  “Leah Nolan’s crew disarmed them,” Ben said. “Supposedly. They’re on parole. If they don’t cause trouble maybe—just maybe—they’ll get a lift off planet. Let’s hope they’re sticking to the deal.”

  “Captain Tengue was always totally professional,” Kitty said. “He kept the mercs in line.”

  “Had they worked for van Blaiden before?” Ben asked.

  Kitty shook her head. “I don’t think so. There was a fair amount of negotiation before they took the contract, more than there might have been if they already knew each other.”

  “Unfortunate to get employed by the losing side. I guess it’s an occupational hazard.” Ben checked the derri in his thigh pocket and returned it to its place, satisfied.

  It took about half an hour before the scanner revealed heat signatures and Ben spotted the first movement among the wrecked flitters. “I make it five—no, six—altogether.”

  “They’ll be armed,” Cara said. “These guys are resourceful. They’re probably working out how they can get control of the Dixie right now.”

  “Agreed,” Ben said.

  “So what are you going to do about it?” she asked.

  “I’m going to go and stand outside in full view.”

  “Let me,” Kitty said. “They’ll probably recognize me. It doesn’t mean to say they won’t take a shot, but it’s less likely.”

  “We’ll both go,” Ben said. “Cara, Ronan, you’ve got our backs.”

  Cara primed the bolt gun. Ronan picked up the long-range tranq rifle.

  “Got you covered both ways,” she said.

  Ben stepped out of the Dixie onto the fired earth, Kitty a couple of paces behind him, both close enough to make a dash back inside if they needed to. Cara crouched in the doorway, her finger lightly on the bolt gun trigger, barrel pointed down toward the ground. Ronan stood close behind.

  Ben watched the approaching figures through narrowed eyes. “Do you know them, Kitty?” he asked, soft-voiced.

  “Not all by name. The guy out in front is pretty levelheaded. Uh-oh, the one behind him is bit of a hothead. The rest aren’t troublemakers, though. The big black guy is Gwala. Wins all the hand-to-hand competitions. The last one is Morton
Tengue.”

  “I’m here to talk,” Ben shouted when the shadows stopped moving on the edge of the flitter wreckage.

  “What about the two in the flyer?” Tengue shouted back.

  “Insurance. What about your five guys skulking in the shadows?”

  “Insurance.”

  “Meet halfway. No weapons.” Ben took the derri out of his thigh pocket and placed it on the stubby wing of the flyer.

  “There’s two of you. I bring one more.”

  “Fair.”

  Ben turned to Cara crouched inside. “Close the hatch.” He saw from her face that she didn’t like it, but she backed into the flyer with Ronan and the hatch slid shut.

  *I’m listening in,* she said.

  *I hope so.*

  “Are you all right with this?” Ben said quietly to Kitty.

  “It’s too late now if I’m not, isn’t it?”

  “Probably.”

  They walked forward, as did Tengue and the big black merc Kitty had identified as Emmanuel Gwala.

  Ben wasn’t short, but Gwala was taller by a handspan and Tengue heavier by ten kilos, all of it muscle.

  “What’s your combat rating, Kitty?”

  “I scored very well in pilot training.”

  Oh, right. He was on his own if it came to a fight. Worse than on his own if he had to protect Kitty, too. Cara didn’t need protecting. She was fast and decisive. Maybe bringing Kitty had been the wrong move.

  “Benjamin,” Tengue said as they halted ten strides away from each other.

  “Captain Tengue.” There was a suspicious bulge in Tengue’s thigh pocket. Bigger than the derri Ben had abandoned and much bigger than the parrimer blade tucked into his sleeve. “I don’t believe we were formally introduced. You know Kitty Keely, I think.”

  “Yes.” Tengue nodded to Kitty. “Ensign Keely.” It was almost, but not quite, a question.

  “Just plain Kitty, now, Cap. I quit Alphacorp. Didn’t like their style.”

  “Van Blaiden’s style.”

  “That’s right. I especially didn’t like that.”

  Gwala stood a pace behind Tengue, face impassive, but something in the line of his shoulders altered at the mention of van Blaiden.

  Tengue’s mouth turned down at the corners. “I lost good men on account of you and yours, Benjamin.”

  Ben shook his head. “You lost good men on account of van Blaiden. You signed up for the losing team. No shame in that, but no malice either. I seem to recall you tried to execute me.”

  “Nothing personal.”

  “No offense taken.”

  “What about her?” Tengue pointed past Kitty to the flyer. He couldn’t see beyond the darkened screen, now, so he must have been watching them for some time.

  Cara was a comfortable presence in the back of Ben’s mind and would be watching their every move. “Cara doesn’t take offense either. Her beef was with van Blaiden. That’s over and done with.”

  Was it? Would it ever be over and done with or would they be living with the aftermath forever?

  “That’s generous of her.”

  “It was her idea to come. We’re looking to hire.”

  “Who is?”

  “The Free Company. That’s the psi-techs from the Olyanda team.”

  “You work for the Trust.”

  “Did. We’re on our own now. Got a little security problem you might be able to help us with. Want to hear more?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Seems we upset someone when we took this planet off the market.”

  Tengue put up both hands, palms out. “We’re not going up against the Trust or Alphacorp or any other corporation you can name because we’d lose.”

  “Okay, stay here then. Olyanda’s relatively mild in the winter. It only drops to forty below. But if you change your mind . . . We’re not asking you to go up against the megacorps on their own turf, only to stand between us and whatever they throw at us on Crossways. Maybe that won’t be anything. Garrick’s stepping up security station-wide, but there may be sleeper agents. Job’s yours if you want it. Trial basis only, of course, and we’ll throw in the ride off this rock for free.”

  “We don’t come cheap.”

  “Didn’t expect you would.”

  “Three hundred per man per week plus accommodations and meals.”

  “Can accommodate you all together in Blue Seven.”

  “Got three men banged up bad after the firefight. Olyanda base medic treated them. Wanted to hospitalize them, but we look after our own. Not leaving them behind—and they get full pay, too.”

  “Of course. Got a medic here now if you want him to take a look.”

  Tengue nodded. “Be right grateful.”

  They thrashed out details of who paid for arms and armor, replacements, and necessary repairs while Ronan and Cara combined their Empathy to check for any signs of double-dealing. There were none.

  *He drives a hard bargain,* Cara said. *But we both agree. It’s one he’s prepared to stick to.*

  “And we stay an independent unit,” Tengue said. “Chain of command runs from you to me and from me to them.”

  “Done.” Ben held out his hand.

  The agreement was quickly registered with Oleg Staple and Leah Nolan, one in orbit with the fleet and the other on the ground with the miners. Tengue insisted on a down payment.

  Ben authorized it.

  Tengue hadn’t finished. “And there’s the madwoman. She’s not rightly our responsibility, but she can’t look after herself. Doesn’t eat unless you put food in her mouth. Pisses herself if you forget to put her on the potty regular.”

  Ben felt sick as he shook on the deal. He had a feeling he knew who Tengue was talking about. Why hadn’t he considered the possibility that Cara’s abuser had survived? He felt Cara stir uneasily, but he had to ask. “Madwoman?” Please don’t let it be her.

  “Mrs. McLellan,” Tengue said.

  Ben slammed down his mental shield as Cara’s mind began to scream.

  Chapter Eight

  THE BENJAMIN MANEUVER

  I THOUGHT SHE WAS DEAD AND GONE.

  I thought she was dead.

  Why can’t she be dead?

  I need her to be dead.

  I have to kill her.

  Donida McLellan, chief mind-bender at Alphacorp’s neural reconditioning unit and Ari van Blaiden’s pet sadist, was alive, but not for much longer. Cara reached out toward her, mind-to-mind. She’d done it once. It would be so easy to snuff out her former tormentor. All she had to do was lock on and squeeze and squeeze and . . .

  So easy.

  Her mind touched McLellan’s and she recoiled.

  She’s in a room, strapped to a chair. McLellan’s mind is boring into hers. Deeper and deeper. In her imagination she can hear a voice saying: You think you’re bad, girl? This is how it’s done. Learn it well.

  She’d learned it, well enough to kill their assailant in the warehouse, but even in this state, McLellan was the river she could not swim, the mountain she could not climb.

  Madwoman, Tengue had called her. She’d always been mad in her own way, but evil genius rather than babbling idiot. Ari had employed her because of her fearsome psi abilities, her psychopathic tendencies and utter lack of inhibitions when it came to twisting someone’s mind. Cara had suffered her inhumane treatment and had not even been able to remember it until it was almost too late.

  Now she remembered.

  “You don’t have to see her,” Ben said.

  “Yes, I do.” Cara sat on the wing-step of the Dixie and watched Tengue and Gwala as they walked back to the mercs. “Tell him, Ronan.”

  The young medic hoisted his emergency kit onto his shoulder and frowned. “Cara, I have to go and check on the injured. We should talk abo
ut this later.”

  “No, we shouldn’t. I want to see her now.” She looked at Ben and then at Ronan. Kitty was wisely hanging back, though she’d actually been a witness to McLellan’s final attempt to break Cara’s mind. “What? You don’t think I’ll try and kill her, do you?” She tried to laugh but it came out all wrong. Ronan and Ben were both staring at her. That was exactly what they thought.

  “I won’t.”

  If she couldn’t do it one way, would she do it another?

  “I probably won’t.” She raised both hands, palms out. “All right. Not today, but sooner or later I will look her in the eye. I need to know she’s got no hold over me now.”

  Ben nodded. “When you’re sure you’re ready.”

  Ben snapped to attention as Yan Gwenn’s general alert from orbit cut through all their thoughts like a klaxon.

  *Detail?* Ben asked Yan.

  *We’ve got company. A Trust cruiser just showed up on the edge of our scanning range.*

  *How close?* Ben asked.

  *Close enough and coming in fast. They’ve deployed fighters.*

  “Shit!” *Yan, bring the Solar Wind down and prepare for a quick pickup.*

  *There’s a second cruiser and—oh bloody hell—a battlewagon,* Yan said. *They really mean business.*

  *We don’t need to get caught up in this,* Ben said. *Staple and his boys are more than capable. Ronan and Kitty, get Tengue and his mercs ready to evacuate. I’m not sure how mobile their injured are.*

  “I need you to focus,” he said to Cara. “Are you with me?”

  He could feel her pulling the threads of her mind together, dragging her attention away from McLellan, shoving the trauma deep down where it couldn’t hurt her. She nodded and opened up a general channel for him. He felt the connection wobble and then it steadied. Good.

  He flashed her a brief smile and her chin trembled as she tried to return it.

  “Can we get them all on board Solar Wind?” Kitty asked.

  “Do we have a choice?” Ben said. “Cara—”

  “Already on it.” Cara, all business in an emergency, had patched communications through to Tengue and had linked with the Telepath on board Oleg Staple’s command ship. “Staple’s fighters are on standby,” she said. “And there are surface-to-air missiles ready for launch.”