Crossways (36 page)

*Smart kid.*
Ben smiled and touched the corner of one eye, suddenly moist.

*There's a grapple game tomorrow night. That's our opportunity.*

*They'll probably expect that.*

*I think they'll be ready for us whenever we go in. At least this way we can figure out some monumental distraction.*

*Agreed.*

*Has Jussaro had any luck with finding our leak yet?*

*Not yet, but he has gleaned some information. It looks like Crowder may be on Norro, keeping a low profile. It's an island in the middle of the Calman Sea where his ex-wife lives. Your news?*

*Crowder—*

*Later. Sit-rep first.*

*Okay. Tengue and Gwala are being watched, so for now they're sitting tight at the burn unit until we need them. Hilde's in the best hotel in town enjoying five-star service. Are you intending to go after Crowder?*

*Fowler?*
Ben asked, ignoring her question. Was he? It was a pity to waste the opportunity.

*Doing well. That's a bonus. Not sure we can get her out even if this goes according to plan. She might have to find her own way home after rehab, but her bills are all paid up and she knew that when she agreed to come.*

*Tengue won't be happy.*

*Tengue?*

*He's fair with all his crew, but there are signs if you look for them. Fowler's special to him. Not sure if she knows it or not. We don't leave without Fowler if we can help it.*

*Talk to me about Crowder, Ben. This thing's getting complicated. Is he bait for a secondary trap? Do you think they're planning to move Nan and Ricky?*

*Jussaro believes Crowder is just laying low. His ex-wife lives on Norro. There's a lot of enmity. It's the last place anyone might expect him to hide out. It's the last place I would have expected.*

*So you are planning to go after him?*

*Hell, yeah.*

A waitress came over and asked if Ben wanted a refill. He nodded and sighed as she poured fresh coffee into his cooling tea.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, I'll get you another.”

“No, it's all right.” He waved her away but she came back a few minutes later with fresh tea and a lemon cake.

“On the house,” she said and gave him the kind of smile he might have once found difficult to ignore. She was cute in a not-Cara kind of way.

*What's happening?*
Cara asked.

*I think I've just been propositioned with a lemon cake.*

She laughed, a warm, tingling sensation in his skull.

*How are you?*
Cara ventured.

*Fitter every day. I'll see you tomorrow.*

*We'll make our move during the match. Hilde's hired a private flyer for a tourist trip. It will take us five hours to get to the farm.*

*Scrap the farm idea.*
He came to a decision.
*Let's rendezvous on Norro. I'll pick up Rion, make arrangements for Kai to go and visit Fowler at the hospital where we can scoop them both up.*

*After you've dealt with some unfinished business?*

He laughed.
*Oh, yes.*

B
EN ASSEMBLED HIS TEAM FOR
SOLAR WIND
. The repairs had been completed to Yan's satisfaction and everything was A-okay—with the ship, at least. He was going through the motions as if everything was normal, yet when it came to the crunch, how would he deal with the Folds?

Getting a copilot was going to be the biggest problem. Kitty wasn't up to it. He hadn't asked Gen, but she'd already told Cara she wasn't going to volunteer for the rescue mission. Ben couldn't blame her, but neither Mother Ramona nor Garrick knew of anyone else who could pilot a jumpship. A million people on the station and not one jumpship pilot, or at least no one who admitted to the talent.

“There was one,” Mother Ramona said when Ben stopped off at the Mansion House office to ask her to check her freelancer files. “Name of Jules Charnock, if I remember rightly.” She flicked through the files on her holo-screen, pulling a few forward, discarding others. “Here she is. She had a solid rep for staying sober and getting the job done with a minimum of fuss. She took a succession of jobs while she was here, including some for me. Did well out of it,
bought her own ship, nothing fancy. May have been one of the oldest jumpships still flying.”

“Where is she now?”

“That's a good question. She took one trip too many. Started drinking, doing Amfital, losing herself in it for days on end. It didn't take long before she wasn't fit to fly. Sold the ship to pay off debts. Ended up in Red One. I lost track after that. Dido Kennedy might know more, but if Charnock's still around I wouldn't trust her to drive a tub-cab.” She frowned at him. “Aren't you up to the job yourself, Benjamin?”

He didn't answer. He didn't know how to answer. He didn't know whether he was up to it or not, but the fact that there was doubt in his mind was almost an answer in itself.

“Oh, like that, is it?” There was sympathy in Mother Ramona's voice. “Don't beat yourself up over it. You're not the first and you won't be the last. You should ask Marling.”

“Gen's pregnant.”

“It doesn't make her ill or incapable.”

“No one really knows whether flying the Folds affects the unborn child.”

“That ship left the dock a long time ago. How many foldspace jumps has she made in recent months?”

“Yeah, that's what she said.”

“Your Dr. Wolfe has said everything's normal, hasn't he?”

“He has, but this could be dangerous. Besides, she already told Cara she wasn't going to volunteer when Cara was putting her team together.”

“Ask again. That was different. This time you only need her to drive the bus. She doesn't need to set foot on Chenon itself. She won't turn you down.”

“That's why I can't ask her.”

“For a smart man you can sure be a fool, Benjamin. You can't wrap up the people you love and hide them away from danger.”

He shrugged. “She's my last resort, and only because not having a backup pilot would seriously jeopardize everyone on board. If I crack . . .” He finished the sentence with an open-handed gesture.
Anything could happen.
“I'll try to find Charnock first, see if she's made any kind of recovery.”

Mother Ramona made a dismissive noise.

Yes, she was right. Ben was fully aware that pilots who lost it didn't usually recover.

Kitty did as Remus had told her and checked her messages, then checked again hoping for something, anything, from her mother. Two days later her inbox flickered and Kitty rolled out of Wes' bed to tap the icon on the bottom corner of the screen.

From Norma Keely.

It was the only message in the box. Kitty felt herself start to smile even while her eyes were flooding.

Then a second icon began to flash. Captain Syke. She decided to get that one out of the way first so she could enjoy her mother's message—at least she hoped it would be enjoyable—with no pressure. She tapped the icon.

“Kitty, I wanted to make sure you were all right,” Syke's image said. “Do you need anything? Have you been crying?”

“Oh.” Kitty wiped her eyes with her fingers. “It's nothing. Just some soppy movie I was watching.”

“At this time in the morning? You need to get out more.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“A bunch of us are going to the Ocean coffee shop at close of shift today. You should join us. You know you'd be welcome. You're practically one of us.”

“I'll think about it, Captain.”

“Arran . . . that's me. No need to be formal. It's not like I'm
your
captain.”

“Okay, Arran. I'll remember that.”

“So you'll come?”

“I'll think about it.” She smiled. It was nice of Syke to check up on her. Ellen Heator had knocked on her door a couple of times on fairly flimsy pretexts. Wes' crewmates were adopting her. She found she liked the concept.

As Syke's image faded, Kitty leaned forward to watch her mom's recorded message. Mom was smiling, eyes bright, and her mousy hair, so lank the last time Kitty had seen her, curled softly around her face, which was now plumped out and healthy.

“Is this thing on? Oh, yes, so it is,” Mom's image said to someone in the background. She turned to the camera.
“Hello, Kitty. How are you, my lovely? As you can see I'm much recovered. In fact, I'm completely recovered and having a restful break here—though I'm not actually allowed to say where here is, for some reason. Still, it's enough to say that it's a private resort. Sun, sea, sand, great food. There's not much company, but I've been able to catch up on my reading. Can you believe it, I got through five novels last week? I'm not sure when I'll be going home. I'd hoped to be back in Shield for Midwinter. You know how much I enjoy having everyone over for dinner, even Aunt Bessie, picky as she is. I hope whatever you're doing out there is going well and that you're safe and enjoying yourself. Message me if you can. Take care, my lovely. I hope to see you on your next leave.” She blew a kiss to the recorder.

Kitty kissed her fingers and blew toward the screen. “I love you, Mom,” she said out loud, even though her mother would never hear it.

Then she frowned. What had her mom been trying to tell her? Aunt Bessie, her father's sister, had died a decade ago.

She recorded a response and sent it by return to the Alphacorp address it had come from. It was full of: I'm fine, and don't worry about me, just enjoy your break. She finished with: “If you get home for Midwinter, give my love to Aunt Bessie.”

There, Mom, just letting you know that I got your message. I know that you know that something's going on.

Ben didn't tell anyone where he was going or why, but he hopped a tub to Red One, not the worst place on the station, he now realized, just poor. Dido Kennedy hadn't said much about her life there, but Yan had remarked that the folks seemed to be eating better since she'd been paid for the work she was doing. Ben wondered whether all the platinum they supplied actually made it to Kennedy's workshop, but as long as she got the job done he wasn't going to carp. It was pretty obvious that if she was siphoning some of the platinum off, it wasn't for her own benefit.

Though she did look a bit smarter than she had when he'd first met her. The buddysuit top, sleeves ripped out, was still her work garment, but the shirt beneath it wasn't as frayed, and she might even have brushed her hair.

She was bent over her workbench when he entered her den, a headset covering her eyes and a micro-drill in her hand.

“That you, Yan, sweetie? Did you bring the mag-couple I asked for?”

“It isn't, and if I'd known I would have brought you one.”

“Oh, Benjamin. Gimme a minute.”

Ben stared at the piles of what looked like scrap but were sorted into discrete stacks, so were obviously being tagged for something.

A rustling in the corner attracted his attention and a scrawny child, maybe about seven, emerged backward from a cupboard, eyed him up suspiciously and yelled, “I'm done.”

“Okay, Todd.” Kennedy didn't look up. “Wash your hands. Sonic and scrub. You know the routine.”

The child disappeared through a narrow doorway behind the couch that seemed to be Dido's only comfortable piece of furniture. Ben heard water running.

“Show me.” Dido stood up to inspect his hands when he came back out. “Do your nails?”

“Twice with the brush and once with the sonic.”

“Good boy.” She fished a small credit chip out of the pocket of her grease-stained trousers and gave it to him. “Don't waste it.”

The child nodded and scampered away.

“Yours?” Ben asked.

“They're all mine, but not biologically. That one's got a sister to support. He strips down some of the pieces I get. Nothing too toxic. Got a steady hand and a quick mind. Might make an engineer of him when he's a bit older. But you didn't come down here to see my kids. What can I do for you? If you want to know if it's finished yet, the answer's no, but I'm getting a bit closer. Going to need to test it out soon, and for that I'm going to need someone who can fly a jumpship.”

“That's what I came to ask you about. I've only got one other pilot who can and I need a backup. Mother Ramona said you might know where I can find Jules Charnock.”

“Jules? You don't want to find her.”

“She's a jumpship pilot, right?”

“She was. Psi-2 Navigator. Managed to buy out her own
contract from Arquavisa and was sitting pretty for a while. Did good business, but on her last run she burned out.”

It was always the last run.

“Did she recover?” Ben was afraid he knew the answer already.

Kennedy shook her head. “You know how it affects some people.”

Oh, yes, he knew.

“Have you ever wondered why some people can fly a jumpship and some can't?” Kennedy asked.

“Who hasn't?”

“I heard about the Benjamin Maneuver. You've got foldspace figured out. Nothing's real.”

“I don't know that I've figured it out, but I've certainly got a lot more questions, and they're not ones the academy trainers ever answered.”

“You've seen 'em, haven't you?”

“Seen what?”

Kennedy stared intently at Ben, her tongue peeping over her bottom lip. “Tell me you've seen 'em. Void dragons.”

“I've seen them,” Ben said.
Touched one, ridden it through foldspace. Looked into its eyes.
“They tell us whatever we see is an illusion.”

She shook her head. “There are illusions in foldspace, ghosts from your own past and the like, but if the void dragons are illusions why does everyone see the same thing?”

“Do we see exactly the same thing? They don't show up on any video recording.”

She yanked open a tool chest drawer, causing the stack to wobble alarmingly, and pulled out a sheaf of plasfilms. “Recognize these?”

“Oh, gods, yes.” Ben breathed out the words while he looked at sheet after sheet. Some of the drawings were outline sketches, others were detailed and lifelike. They all depicted the same thing: void dragons. He stopped at one of the drawings. It was his dragon, perfect in its detail. It even had the prehensile claws in its beard. And the eyes, even from the plasfilm, seemed to stare into his soul.

“You know the big fella, huh? That's Jules' drawing. Good, wasn't she? I told her she could make a living as an artist, but she could never bring herself to draw anything
else but these.” Kennedy shrugged. “Last time I saw her she was heading for an air lock. Said it was the only way she could find any peace. For all I know she took a walk into the black. She never came back, anyhow. Sometimes there's nothing you can do for folks who are determined to go.”

Her voice choked off and she cleared her throat. “Jules said that nothing in foldspace is real—except these fellas—and at the same time everything's real. You're nowhere and everywhere all at the same time. You'd think that was obvious, but from what I understand they train it out of pilots early on. If my jump engines are going to be any use, you need flyers who know what one of these looks like.” She flicked the edge of the plasfilm in Ben's hands. “Ones who are open-minded about what's out there and what can be done with it.”