Crossways (8 page)

“Cara . . .” Oh, gods, where to start? He sat next to her, carefully not touching. “I thought we'd worked all this out. I thought we were good. Olyanda was tough, but we survived. Together. What am I missing?”

“Ari van Blaiden.”

“He messed with your mind. It wasn't you.”

“They couldn't make me believe all the things I believed if I hadn't had some lingering feelings for him.”

“What about us, Mrs. Benjamin?” He felt something slipping away that he'd let himself start to rely on.

“Don't call me that. We lived a lie for a few months. It doesn't make it real.”

He'd wanted it to be real. “What do you want me to call you?”

She didn't answer.

“Cara . . .”

“That'll do. Cara Carlinni. I need to find out who I am before I become someone else.”

“Are you saying you're leaving?”

She shook her head. “Only if you want rid of me.”

“I don't.”

“Even though I tried to kill you and had sex with Ari? And, for fuck's sake, I killed someone with my mind!” There, she'd said it at last. “And I don't even feel sorry.”

“You can't go through what van Blaiden and McLellan did to you without it changing you.”

“For better or for worse?”

“Not better, not worse, just different. I love you, Cara. I've never made any secret of that.”

“I know that, too.” She smiled a small, sad smile. “I think you're nuts, though.”

“So sue me.” He reached out and covered her left hand with his right. She froze for a moment and then turned her hand to grasp his.

“Can we just take it slowly for now?” she said.

“As slow as you like,” he said. The snakes began to settle. Maybe there was hope.

Cara and Ben lay in the generous bed, not touching. Aware of Ben at her back, his warmth prickling her skin, she thought she'd never sleep, but as soon as her eyes closed, she felt the blackness sucking her down into its warmth.

With only a hazy impression of fast-fading dreams, she awoke to an empty cabin.

Cautiously she opened her eyes, stretched and sniffed. Fresh bread and coffee, real coffee by the smell, not just caff or regular CFB, coffee-flavored beverage. On the table at the foot of the bed stood an insulated carafe and a copious breakfast cup, plus a basket of hot rolls and a selection of pots and jugs: cream, milk, fruit preserves, and honey. It looked like Mother Ramona had sent a care package.

Ben's used cup stood still half-full, with cream congealed on the cooling surface. That man had no taste. He preferred caff to the real stuff. It probably came from being raised in the colonies.

She showered and dressed quickly before Ben returned, then grabbed the coffee and rolls with real strawberry jam. Did Mother Ramona and Norton Garrick live like this all the time? Luxury goods were rare on a space station. Their
lifestyle said a lot for their affluence, and the platinum deal was going to add to that considerably.

She was halfway through her second cup when the door opened to reveal Ben with a carton of caff from the galley in one hand.

“Good morning,” he said. “Good news on Serafin. He's out of surgery and resting comfortably, though still on a respirator. Suzi's with him.”

“Are you going over?”

“They've said no visitors yet. If you're ready, Mother Ramona has arranged for us to see the real warehouse this morning.”

She was grateful he didn't try and take the conversation back to where they'd left it last night. She could manage this level of normal.

“Coming.” She gulped down the last of her coffee, grabbed another roll from the basket and closed the neck catch on her buddysuit.

Gen met them in the corridor. “Not so fast. We need to talk.”

Max stepped out of his cabin, dressed in a brand-new buddysuit.

“New gear. Nice.” Cara pretended to brush lint off his shoulder.

“I went for basic black. Do I look the part?” Max twirled.

“Combat ready,” she said. “Do you know how to use that thing?”

“Light here. Hood here. Facemask here. Breathing tube, emergency drugs, noise canceling earpieces, full spectrum eyepiece, cuddly toy, bottle opener, pack of cards, and . . .” He patted his pocket. “Somewhere I think I have a tool that takes stones out of a horse's hooves.”

Gen turned and gave him a light smack on the arm. “You promised not to be flippant.”

“Oww! I only said I'd try. This is all a bit new. Gimme a break.”

“The suit'll give you a break if we run into trouble.”

“She's right,” Ben said. “Don't forget it has armor, too, and it's specially strengthened on the outer edges of the forearms if anyone comes at you with a knife.”

Max's eyes widened. “Is that likely?”

“You can ask that after yesterday?” Cara said. “You're going to need some combat training.”

“I'm pretty good at duck and run.”

“Good, then all you need to learn is when to do that and when to hit back.”

“In the meantime, we have business.” Wenna joined them.

Cara was relieved to see she was back to normal, with the prosthetic arm completely indistinguishable from her biological one.

“Who's we?” Ben asked. “This corridor is getting a touch crowded.”

Wenna stepped back and turned. “You'll see.”

She led the way to the
Solar Wind
's mess, the biggest communal space on the ship. Cara tagged along. She'd only been part of this crew for one mission, and that all gone to hell, partly because of her.

At the door Wenna paused and by a gesture waved Cara in with Ben. “Promise you'll listen,” was all she said.

Gen and Max crowded in behind them. There were probably fifty or sixty psi-techs crammed into a space designed for half that number, many of whom had been roughing it in the stadium billet: Ronan and Jon; Gupta; Marta Mansoro, gills covered by the high neck of her buddysuit; Cas Ritson, their other Psi-1 Telepath; Mel Hoffner from medical; Archie Tatum, Serafin's Psi-Mech second; Lewis Bronsen, a Finder; Yan Gwenn, pilot and ship's systems engineer; and even Kitty Keely. The hubbub of voices died away.

Ben inclined his head and looked at the crowd. “Wenna says I have to listen. I'm listening.”

“We wanted to let you know we've decided to stick together,” Gen said. “With you, that is. No one here intends to desert.”

“It's not about deserting,” Ben said. “It's about family and commitments and about independent people deciding where they want to be. I'm not Commander Benjamin anymore. No one has to do what I say.”

“Well, since Crowder slapped a warrant on all of us, where can we go?” Gen asked. “First listed as dead, now listed as, at best, Typhoid Marys, at worst, criminals on several counts. We're probably the most wanted semi-corpses in the galaxy.”

“There are plenty of colonies where one of Mother
Ramona's new identities wouldn't be questioned,” Ben said. “Anyone with a partner and children or parents and siblings at home might want to gather their family and start again. Their platinum share will give them the resources to do it.”

“And they might prefer to bring that family here and stay with a group of people they trust and a boss who looks out for them,” Gen said.

“There's no longer anything for me to be boss of.”

“There's the Free Company.”

“What's that?”

“Us. The Olyanda survivors—most of us—or two hundred and eleven of us to be precise.” Gen waved expansively. “The Free Company doesn't belong to you, it belongs to all of us. We've all agreed to invest half our platinum money, and we've elected you as boss. Max is our accountant, Wenna our company secretary.”

“And what do you expect the Free Company to do?”

“Anything. It doesn't even have to be legal.” Gen frowned. “That is, if it breaks a few stupid laws, we don't care, as long as it's moral. While the platinum holds out it doesn't even have to make money.”

Cara had been watching Ben. He'd been trying not to react, but she recognized his small tells. Body inclined slightly forward, mouth set in a line as if he was deliberately trying not to smile. Oh yes, he was up for it.

“I can't do anything until we've found the missing settlers,” Ben pushed out the suggestion and waited to see whether it would float.

“Then that's our first job,” Gen said. “Come on, Boss, you know you don't really want to cut us all loose.”

“On one condition,” he said. “That you can un-elect me any time.”

“It's a deal,” Gen said.

Cara saw a smile begin to twitch at the corners of Ben's mouth. That's settled, then, she thought.

Kitty waited until the general hubbub had died down. Everyone was excited by the prospect of the Free Company and it took a while for them to disperse back to their temporary accommodation. Three of Yan Gwenn's ship engineers stayed behind to familiarize themselves with
Solar
Wind
's systems and to check for any nonstandard mods they still had to find.

Gupta had called all his security team to a meeting on the dockside, twenty-three of them, hardly an army, but Gupta was taking the attack at the warehouse more than seriously and was going over options and revising procedures.

Which meant he had more than Kitty Keely on his mind.

She tagged along behind the last few stragglers heading back for the stadium.

Better them than me
, she thought to herself. By being no trouble and keeping a low profile she'd kept her berth on
Solar Wind
, which meant she could watch whatever move Benjamin's renegade psi-techs made next. Of course, it hardly mattered to her if they did something to hurt the Trust. In fact if they did, it could only benefit Alphacorp.

There was no getting close to Ben Benjamin. She'd flashed her most dazzling smile at him a couple of times, but he hadn't even noticed. He was never less than polite and professional, but it was pretty obvious that he only had eyes for Cara, even though she wasn't totally sure it went both ways. Cara had been messed up by van Blaiden. It took a while to get over that.

There was no one else worth pairing up with. Ronan Wolfe was utterly gorgeous but settled in a relationship with Jon Moon. Wenna would be the obvious one to chase, but Kitty had watched her closely for days and still didn't know where her preferences lay, if, indeed, she had any. Wenna never showed any interest in either males or females. If Kitty made advances and was wrong, she'd mess things up. She certainly wasn't going to settle for Gupta or Yan Gwenn, or someone further down the food chain. They were definitely not the first people to know what was going on.

Maybe it was better not to form relationships with any of the psi-techs, though it wouldn't do any harm to get on the right side of the cute guard, Wes. He'd already helped her to get one message out to “Mother,” though she hadn't had an answer yet.

Time to go and see if he was on duty today.

She slowed down to let the others get ahead as they neared the entrance to Port 22. There was one guard on the gate, and she could see Wes inside the gatehouse.

He stepped out just as she got there.

“Hey, Kitty.” He really did have a nice smile; she had little difficulty returning it.

“Wes.”

“Going somewhere? I get off duty on the hour.”

She checked station time on her handpad. Fifteen minutes. “I could wait. I was just going to explore.”

“Let me take you on a guided tour. I thought you lot weren't supposed to go anywhere on your own.”

“I won't be on my own.” She winked at him.

“I suppose not.”

Five minutes later Captain Syke arrived with six fresh guards and Wes' shift ended.

“Sorry you had to wait.” Wes lifted off his helmet and scrubbed at his scalp one-handed. “Damn thing just makes you want to have a good scratch once it comes off.”