Psion (38 page)

Someone had come into the room, I felt-I heard it; and I looked up. Jule and Siebeling were standing there, each with an arm around the other. Siebeling’s other arm was still bandaged. “Hello, Cat.”

I grinned without thinking, but then I pulled my mouth down again. “What are you doing here?”

Siebeling said, “It’s no better, then?”

“No. I told you; it’s not going to get better.” I looked away, out the window again. “So what else is new?”

They stood there, invisible, for a while, before Jule asked, “Did you get your commendation from Corporate Security?”

“You mean this?” I reached into a pocket and pulled out the message ‘cast, all in a wad. I’d been too embarrassed to ask anyone to read it to me; and then I’d forgotten about it. I smoothed it on my knees, and found my name printed at the top. “Is that what it is?”

Siebeling actually laughed. “And that’s all the attention it probably deserves.”

I smiled. “I didn’t want to get a swelled head. What’s it about, anyway?” And I knew how glad I was to see them; the tension eased inside me.

“We were the heroes of the moment, all over the galaxy-for about that long. At least we forced them to admit psions had done something to save the Federation, as well as something to try to destroy it. . . .” They sat down and told me more than I really wanted to know about what had happened because of us. “. . . So Galiess and the other psions will be in prison somewhere for a long time for what they tried to do, if they aren’t executed for it.”

I wondered how much harder their punishment would be just because they were psions. “What about the ones who put ‘em up to it? There were combines backing
Rubiy. . . .
”

“And whichever ones they were, their identities died with him. Not even Galiess knew who his contacts really were.” Siebeling leaned back against the window. “The FTA has its suspicions, but they have no proof. Even they don’t have the power to act unless they can prove something without question.”

“There was no proof?” I looked at Jule, remembering what we’d both heard Rubiy say about her family and Centauri Transport.

“No.” She shook her head, answering the question I didn’t ask. “Some things are more important-some ties never come unbound, you never get free of them, no matter how much you think you want to. And maybe that’s only right.”

“I guess maybe it is.” I thought about Dere again. “But you saved their ass in a big way. Did it . . . did it make any difference?”

“Just a little.”
She smiled, just a little. “They didn’t ask me home to take my place on the board. But they offered me a substantial settlement for staying away, to go with what the FTA owes us. That means more than they know. . . .”

“They bought you off,” I said.

She nodded, and she didn’t say anything more.

I leaned back in the seat. “So that’s it. That’s the end of it, huh?” The Federation kept going, because of us. And the telhassium supply on Cinder was safe because of us. The bondies were still dying there because of us, the Hydrans were being “investigated” because of us . . . and Dere Cortelyou was dead. I stared at the half-hidden scar on my wrist, and felt the new-made barriers in my mind come down to cover the old pain. Me, a big hero. . . . I wadded up the commendation and threw it on the floor; and I said something I shouldn’t have, too softly for anybody to hear.

But Jule said, “Don’t you think that what we did did any good?”

I tried to think about it. “I don’t know. If it meant the ones who run this screwed-up universe got some of their own from me, then maybe. . . . But we didn’t change anything; that’s for damn sure.”

“Maybe we changed something.” Siebeling touched Jule gently, and smiled. “And Cat-the Federation keeps going, because of us. That means that at least there’s something that tries to restrict the whims of a Rubiy. This galaxy would be worse than it is-damn it, there’d be no end to the misery and pain-if there wasn’t something.”

I glanced up at him, angry. But his voice was bitter, and I realized what it meant for him to be saying that, after what the Federation had done to his family.

“By the way”-he looked past me out the window-“Corporate Security is looking for replacements for Cortelyou. They’re offering us an opportunity to do more work for them.”

“I ain’t Dere.” I shut my eyes for a minute, trying to see Dere’s face. “Are you-?”

“No.” He looked back at me. “Then I take it making the galaxy safe for hypocrisy doesn’t really appeal to you . . . either.”

“No. What are you gonna do, then? Go back to the Colonies?”

Jule shook her head. “We’ve been making plans for staying here in
Quarro. . . .
” With the money they were getting from her family and the FTA, they were going to work with psions. Not just the ones who could pay, like Siebeling had done before, but the freaks who really needed help, the ones in Oldcity whose lives were being ruined by what they were. And there were a lot of them; it was hard to be human and a psion.

I thought about Siebeling’s son, wondering whether he thought . . . But then I knew they felt that even if they never found his son, they’d find something that was worthwhile. I smiled.

“That’s why we’re here,
Cat.
We thought maybe you’d want to work with us.” More than just professional interest showed on his face; but I couldn’t read the feeling.

“Work with you . . . ?” I stopped, feeling the smile go flat.
“Just what you need, a basket case.
Try and tell me from the patients.”

He said, “There’s nothing wrong with your psi ability; except that now you control it too well. You aren’t ready to use it again. And I can’t change that for you this time; because it’s not my right. You need to be in control, only you can decide what you need the most now. But I think you will be a telepath again, when you’re ready-when you’ve had the time that you need to heal.”

I shook my head. “I’m glad I’ve lost it, I don’t care why. I hope it never comes back! It’s too hard. . . .” To think I’d found everything, because of what I’d become . . . and because of what I’d become, to lose it all. The pain started and choked off again inside me. I couldn’t even feel anymore . . . because I’d already died. “I wouldn’t be any good for what you want.”

“I think you’d probably be very good. More than anyone, you’ll never forget how hard it is-or how much it can mean-to be a psion. Even if you never use your talent again, there’d always be a place for you.”

I stared at the floor, eating a piece of sour candy.

After a minute I heard them get up, and Siebeling said, “It’s up to you, Cat. Whatever you decide to do, from now on; it’s finally up to you.” He smiled.

Jule caught his eyes; he nodded and moved away, leaving us alone together.

“Cat.” She touched my face; I saw her ring flash in the light. “I know . . .” Her hand dropped away. “But you didn’t lose everything. The things that drew us all together are still stronger than the things that separate us now. They can’t be changed, not for the three of us. You’ll always know where to find us. It doesn’t matter why you come-but come and see us, please. Don’t forget us. . . .” She turned away as if it hurt.

Siebeling came back again, and put his arm around her. He reached into his coat pocket and brought something out. He held out his hand, offering it to me on his open palm. It was the Hydran crystal ball I’d stolen from him once, somewhere in my former life.

I took it from his hand, my own hand slow and uncertain. It was warm, like a living thing, like it always was.

There was a nightflower plant blooming inside it-midnight petals streaked with silver like the light of the stars.

“A promise,” he said.

I cupped the ball in my hands, looking up at him. For a minute I couldn’t even speak. Finally I got one word out: “Thanks. Thanks.”

He nodded. I watched them start away together. As they reached the lift, Jule stopped and looked back at me, and I heard something in her voice that I couldn’t feel in her mind: “We never get everything we
want,
Cat . . . but sometimes we get what we need.” The lift chimed, its doors opened and closed, and they were gone.

They were gone, and it was a while before I really understood: that they were gone forever, this time.
That what I did with my life really was up to me now.
I was free, I was rich,
I
was . . . nobody again; like always, like I’d been at the start. And once I would have gone out to the Colonies, if I was rich; but my back was scarred, and I remembered too many lies. And once I would have searched for my mother’s people, if I was rich; but my mind was scarred, and I couldn’t face them-because I’d killed, because I wasn’t Hydran enough. And once I would just have done dreamtime for a month. . . .

The past was dead. The past was in a museum. And the price for bringing it back was too high . . . I couldn’t pay that price again, I didn’t have the strength. But I didn’t have the strength to forget. What was the use of a future, if I couldn’t stop wanting the past?

I looked down again at the Hydran ball in my hands, alive with captive light, potential energy, promise- And suddenly I remembered that final frozen moment in the mines back on Cinder, when the Hydrans left their farewell in my mind. They’d shown me the future-their future, my own future, splitting apart from that moment on:
theirs blazing
up in a moment of triumph, then fading to black; the fragile threads of possibility fraying, breaking, disappearing one by one.

And mine-blackness and ashes; but not an end, only a new beginning. The threads of my life tangled and frayed, but didn’t break. Weaving the pattern of the future they multiplied and grew until the choices I had were like the stars in the sky. And as grief started in me for the Hydran’s loss, their hope for my new beginning had filled me. . . .

I tightened my hands over the crystal ball again. The nightflower would bloom in there forever, if I let it; but more strange and beautiful things than I could imagine would always be waiting for me to set them free. I closed my eyes, trying to focus, trying to call them out-

When I opened my eyes again, the nightflower was still there. Nothing had changed. Jule had said it: to be alive was to be disappointed. You tried and failed and kept on trying, never knowing whether you’d ever get what you wanted. But sometimes we get what we need. Now I had everything I needed to start over again, with even odds this time. Only a fool would throw all that away. This was the place where the past and the future came together: I held them both here in my hands.

Nothing’s changed-yet. But it will. I got a few lives I ain’t even tried yet.