Crossways (3 page)

Cara shook off the last remnants of her foldspace visions.

Her screen bleeped.

“I've got a visual on Crossways,” Kitty said.

“Relay it ship-wide.” Ben hit the internal comms. “Take a good look, people, it's going to be home for a while.”

Cara stared at the screen as the scale resolved itself in her brain. The vast man-made habitat hung in space, orbiting a yellow dwarf star, Amarelo, at a distance of two AU. It looked as if it had been slung together by a lunatic with a giant construction kit. Its central spindle supported a series of fat doughnuts perched on top of each other like a child's toy, probably the original station. From that had sprouted a huge outer assemblage of concentric rings which looked as though they had been made and remade several times over, expanding organically with encrustations and additions which owed little to long-term planning and much to immediate necessity. Massive cylindrical structures jutted from the outer rings, presenting weaponry always at the ready.

White floods on the external docking cradles glinted off the solar collection tiles that covered almost every exposed surface. On opposing sides of the main station, two additional wheels, each big enough to be an independent station in its own right, pivoted on projecting arms.

“I knew it was big, but . . . that's big,” Cara said.

She knew Crossways' history, its grab for independence, but she'd never quite appreciated its size before. Seeing huge liners dwarfed by its bulk brought it home.

“The outer ring is ten klicks in diameter, with eight levels,” Ben said. “And that's before the additions. You've got to admire a good engineering project. The station supports close to a million people, and she's armed to the teeth: pulse-cannon, torpedoes, lasers, and enough fighters and fighter drones to make even the Monitors wary of approaching without permission.”

The Olyanda survivors were here, somewhere, saved from the immediate double-threat of plague and hostile incursion. Mother Ramona and her lover, Norton Garrick, the station's head crimelord, had given assurances that they'd be safe, but how could any station, even one of this size, absorb ten thousand displaced persons?

“See that section there”—Ben pointed—“the one that looks as though someone's taken a giant bite out of it . . .”

“It looks like old damage,” Cara said.

“It's from Crossways' war for independence,” Ben said.

“But that's a century ago,” Kitty butted in. “Couldn't they have fixed it by now?”

“It doesn't look like they want to.” Cara kept her eyes on the screen. “Sometimes keeping the damage visible is a good reminder not to let it happen again.” She didn't even realize she'd said that out loud until Ben glanced over with a sharp, suspicious look before turning back to answer Kitty.

“Crossways survived and prospered while the megacorp that tried to subdue it withered,” he said. “That's a point of pride for the locals, some of whom are descendants of the original revolutionaries.”

“Not all criminals, then?” Kitty asked.

“There are a lot of legal businesses, some legitimately occupied in supporting the illegal ones. In fact, unauthorized crime is dealt with just as quickly here as anywhere, perhaps even more harshly.”

“There's such a thing as authorized crime?”

Ben shrugged. “Most of the organizations on Crossways have learned not to shit on their own doorstep. It operates in much the same way as any station, except with a wider range of services on offer, no questions asked.”

Cara had experienced Crossways only once before, and it had not been under the best of circumstances. She wondered whether she would ever be able to settle here.

B
EN TURNED TO CARA. “FOR BETTER OR worse, Crossways is home, at least for a while,” he said. “You once told me you didn't want to live the rest of your life on a space station.”

“I didn't. I don't. But we can't go back to either Chenon or Earth, can we?” She shrugged. “Your home? My home? They're all closed to us. We don't work for the Trust anymore.”

“I think Crowder trying to kill us makes a pretty good case for constructive dismissal,” Ben said. “Besides, we're wanted criminals now.”

She sighed. “Well, we do seem to have stolen a spaceship. I guess that means we've descended to the criminal classes.”

“Ascended, I'd say,” Ben said. He was relieved when she grinned back at him.

The
Solar Wind
could give them a hell of an edge. He intended to keep her, since she wasn't ever going back to her original owner. They'd left van Blaiden's ashes scattered on Olyanda, and good riddance. A nastier individual would be hard to find.

Having a fancy boat like this just might make a difference in the future. Whatever it took to keep the wolves away from the sheep. These days there were more and more
wolves, and the sheep were spread out thinly among the stars without a shepherd.

Ben felt the familiar buzz of Cara's implant handshaking with his own.

*Mother Ramona,*
she said.
*Calling from Crossways.*

*Okay, ready.*
Ben was used to Cara's touch inside his head. It never seemed intrusive or abrupt. His own Psi-1 rating was in Navigation. He could barely throw a thought from here to the wall by himself, so he needed a strong Telepath like Cara to run comms for him.

There was a slight internal lurch as the focus shifted and Mother Ramona herself arrived in Ben's mind, front and center, routed through Cara on
Solar Wind
and Ully on Crossways Station. Mother Ramona, a marble-skinned, genetically engineered exotic whose criminal activities included smuggling, identity manipulation, espionage, counterespionage, and network hacking, had stuck to every deal they'd made. Without her they'd never have extricated the settlers from Olyanda.

*Benjamin, you took your time,*
Mother Ramona said.
*Your settlers are driving us crazy. If Garrick hadn't signed a contract to keep them safe I think he'd have spaced them by now.*

*Sorry about that. Had some business to attend to. Turns out it wasn't as simple as I'd hoped. There's a warrant out for our arrest.*

*I know. Even Crossways has received it, though I have no idea why.*
She laughed. Even mentally her laugh was more like a cackle. It was the one thing that made her seem older than she was, or perhaps it gave away her true age, which otherwise she hid very well.

*Good thing you have no extradition treaty with any of the megacorporations.*
Ben didn't try to hide his own amusement at the thought.

*If we did, half of Crossways' upstanding citizens would be in the chokey.*
Mother Ramona's mental voice went from humor to worry.
*They've pretty much thrown the book at you, though.*

*We know. Had a bit of a brush with an old friend.*
He frowned.
*Not exactly a friend, to be honest. Long story.*

*I look forward to hearing it sometime.*

*Me too,*
Cara echoed.

He shot Cara a look and she pulled back out of the conversation.

Mother Ramona continued,
*While you've been tying up loose ends we've been trying to accommodate ten thousand pains in the ass who've never even seen a space station before. We've had to corral them in the stadium. It's not pretty in there. Your psi-techs have set up camp in the upper bleachers while the settlers are down on the pitch. Victor Lorient is . . . well let's just call him high maintenance. Even his wife won't talk to him anymore.*

There was a reason for that which went beyond the current settler situation, but it wasn't up to Ben to divulge it. Lorient, the settlers' ultra psi-phobic leader, had been more than just a pain in the ass throughout their time on Olyanda.

*I get it,*
Ben said.
*We'd better find the settlers a new planet soon, or else.*

The audio comm buzzed into life and Crossways Control announced, “
Solar Wind
, you're cleared for docking. Proceed to Port 22, Green Sector.”

Ben saw Cara touch her vox. “Thank you, Crossways,” she said. “On final approach.”

*Be with you, soon,*
Ben told Mother Ramona.
*Your flight controllers have cleared us for docking.*

*Port 22 is Garrick's private dock,*
Mother Ramona said.
*I've vouched for you personally, so mind your manners.*

*Will do,*
Ben said.
*Can you do us one more favor?*

*How much is it going to cost me?*

*Nothing. It will cost us in the long run,*
Ben said.
*Can you find us a space we can take over? I don't care how spartan it is. Even an empty warehouse will do. I'd like somewhere I can get my psi-techs away from the settlers.*

*I'll see what I can do. I guess there's not much love lost.*

*The settlers are a bunch of Ecolibrian fundies,*
Ben said.
*They're never going to like implant-enhanced psi-techs, no matter how many times we save their asses.*

Mother Ramona gave the mental equivalent of a suppressed laugh.

*I'll see what I can find.*

Ben turned his attention to docking an unfamiliar ship in one of Crossways' internal docks. There was little room for error.

“Harnesses,” Ben broadcast ship-wide. “Safety lockdown for manual docking.”

*All battened down here,*
Ronan Wolfe, their medic, responded privately to Ben.
*How is your shoulder?*

*Sore but holding.*

*And Cara?*

*Making light, but I've seen her try to ease her ribs when she thinks no one is watching.*

Ben lined up
Solar Wind
with Port 22's blue access lights. The station filled the viewscreen, her pulse-cannon obvious from this distance, barrels sticking out like bristles on the side of a porker.

Port 22 grew from a small dark rectangle on the bulbous end of one of Crossways' huge projecting caissons to a gaping maw that swallowed them whole. The screen view switched to a functional glideway with a run of central guide lights.

Ben cut the power, feeling a slight bump as the grav buffers caught and the ship regained weight.
Solar Wind
settled gently into her landing gear and the clamps engaged. The air lock began to cycle.

Home—for now, at least.

As the rest of the crew left the flight deck, Cara sat back in
Solar Wind
's comms chair.

“Are you sure you don't mind?” Ben asked.

“Of course I don't mind. I've been waiting for you to suggest it.”

She swiveled around to face him.

“It won't tire you too much?”

“Stop trying to give me an out. You need to talk to your Nan. Yes, it's a long way, yes it will be tiring, but it's what I'm trained for. Now do you want to do this or not?”

He nodded. He'd hoped to be able to bring his family off Chenon, but Alexandrov had foiled that plan along with his attempt to get at Crowder.

“Okay.”

Cara breathed deeply and closed her eyes, sitting perfectly poised. Bruise or no bruise, she looked beautiful, even in a severe black buddysuit that disguised the curves he knew were there.

*Ready?*
she asked.

He followed Cara's mental link as her thoughts ranged out toward Chenon and Nan. Ben could feel her concentrate on seeking out his fierce and formidable grandmother, matriarch of the Benjamin family, or what was left of it: Ben's older brother, Rion, and Rion's two boys, Kai and Ricky.

*Cara!*
He felt the moment of contact as Nan recognized Cara's mental touch.
*Is Reska all right?*

Nan was the only one who ever used Ben's given name. He'd been Ben Benjamin since his first day in the Monitor Cadets, just as Jessop had become Jess.

*Ben's fine,*
Cara said.
*Here, see for yourself.*

She pulled back, leaving Ben and Nan to talk to each other through her link.

*Reska. It's been too long—*

*Sorry, there was a reason for that, Nan. Things went south very fast on Olyanda and I didn't want to put you in danger by giving you information others might want, but you need to know now.*

*Tell me the worst of it.*

Nan never wasted time on irrelevant explanations.

*We found platinum on Olyanda and Crowder betrayed us to get it all for the Trust.*

*And did he?*

*Get it? No. I sold it to Crossways, but it was touch and go for a while. He tried to wipe out the colony with a plague.*

*But you're all still there.*

*Still alive, but not on Olyanda.*

*What do you need us to do?*

*Get the first shuttle off-planet to a neutral station. I'll meet you there.*

There was a significant pause before she answered.
*Not going to happen. Ricky would love a trip off-world, but you think I could possibly get Rion off this farm?*

Ben fought down rising frustration. His older brother might as well have been welded to the land.

*I'm worried Crowder will try to use you as a bargaining chip.*

*You think we're in danger?*

*I'd be happier if you all found a bolt-hole and kept your heads down in case someone comes calling. Can you find an
excuse to bring Kai home? He's a sitting target in Arkhad. The university's too close to the city.*

*Kai's on a field trip to one of the moon arcologies. He's safer than any of us.*

*That's good. Warn him, but don't trust the house's regular comms links. Your line might be bugged already.*

*Understood.*

Ben saw Cara begin to sway sideways. The call had taken long enough.

*That's it for now, Nan. We'll be in touch again as soon as we can. Love you.*

*Love you, too, boy. Take care, both of you.*

*We will.*

He felt Cara close off the conversation and her eyes opened.

“Thanks,” he said. “You followed all that?”

“I did. Will Nan be able to persuade Rion to leave the farm?”

Ben thought of his brother. Stubbornness was his strength and his failing.

“Probably not, but at least they're warned now.”

Kitty Keely pushed down panic. Had she overstepped her authority? Would she get a medal or a reprimand? Hell, she was so out of her depth her feet might never touch the bottom again. It had all started when Akiko Yamada, Alphacorp's director, had called her into her office in Sandnomore, Alphacorp's headquarters in the Saharan Rainforest, and personally instructed her to spy on Ari van Blaiden. She wanted to know all his dirty little secrets.

“You're van Blaiden's type. You're ideally placed in his department. Get close to the man.”

“How? I mean . . .”

Ms. Yamada had looked at her over her entirely unnecessary retro-fashion spectacles and said, “Use your initiative, Ms. Keely.”

She'd swallowed. “You want me to sleep with him?”

“No, Ms. Keely, sleep is the last thing I had in mind. I want you to fuck him bowlegged if that's what it takes. I don't care how you do it, but win his confidence. My Telepath, Rufus, will contact you for a weekly report.”

“But you can't order me to—”

“Your reluctance is noted. Perhaps I can sweeten this for you a little. You mother has recently been diagnosed with Ren-Parry Syndrome.”

Kitty swallowed and nodded numbly. It was curable, but the treatment was expensive and not available in Shield City. She'd applied for a loan—Damn, was that how Ms. Yamada knew? Weren't those things confidential?