He turned to Cara for confirmation, but her face was a mask. *Don’t ask me. I agree with Franny.*
Fowler had turned to her holographic screen. “They’re on final approach now,” she said, adjusting her earpiece. “Okay, Crossways Control, I see them.” She brought the Monitor ship in slowly, a great lumbering beast of a thing three times the size of Solar Wind.
“Come on. We’ll be the welcoming committee,” Ben said.
He’d asked Cara to stay outside the port gate, safely hidden with Tengue and his crew, but she’d insisted on coming with him. The Monitor pilot turned the ship in its own length, as skillful a maneuver as Ben had seen in a long time, and sat the Carylan on the slipway, ready to depart before she’d even settled in.
Cara made a rumble deep in her throat as they approached. “Is that deliberate? They could open their hatch, snatch us both, and be out of here before Tengue had time to blink.”
“Got to show a little faith,” Ben said.
“Are you even armed?”
“Not even a derri. And I asked you not to carry.”
“I’m not—well—not quite. I stashed it in the office with Franny.”
“Oh, great. She’s—”
“Mouthy but not insane. That’s why she’s got this job.”
“Yeah, right.”
Carylan’s hatch hissed and cracked open a couple of centimeters before the top half hinged up and the bottom lowered to form a ramp.
It was only when Jessop stepped on to the ramp alone and dressed in a uniform rather than a buddysuit, that Ben realized he’d been holding his breath. His first impression was of a middle-aged man with faded, thinning hair. Then Jess smiled and it was as if no time had passed since their last encounter.
They met at the bottom of the ramp with a huggy, backslappy greeting and then stepped apart so Jess and Cara could shake hands.
“I wondered if there might be a bigger welcoming committee,” Jess said.
“My security guards are close by, but out of sight, just in case.”
“Mine are lined up by the hatch. Shall we say that we don’t need their services today?”
“A wise move.”
“Stand down.” Jess waved toward the hatch, no doubt with telepathic orders to secure the ship and wait for further instructions. Jess was a psi-tech whose telepathy had always been stronger than Ben’s.
“I can’t stand down my security,” Ben said. “They’re for your protection—and ours, too, come to that.” He indicated Cara by his side.
“Too many potshots at Ben, Prime Jessop,” Cara said.
“Please, call me Jess.”
She nodded. “And there would be a few people who might consider it open season on any Monitor rash enough to step onto Crossways. It’s not that long ago that a couple of your heavy battlewagons stood by while the megacorps tried to pound us all to space dust.”
“I know, and I’m sorry for it.” He shrugged. “Crossways has a certain reputation for lawlessness.”
“I hope that’s soon something you can say in the past tense,” Ben said. “Garrick is sincere in his intention to make Crossways legitimate. I’m not saying there isn’t still a criminal element, but the worst of them—”
“Roxburgh.”
“That’s right, Roxburgh. Now that he’s gone, a few other organizations are reassessing their position.”
They reached the port’s blast doors. Ben slid his handpad past the plate to identify himself and keyed in a security code. “Of course, the majority of the station’s inhabitants have committed no crime worse than being born here.”
The door slid open. Jess started visibly at the sight of Tengue’s best troops, all kitted out for a rumpus.
“Jess, this is Morton Tengue, our security chief.”
Jessop recovered himself almost immediately and shook hands. “Geez, Ben, did you lay on the heavies for my benefit?”
“Just another day on Crossways. Until I saw it was you on the ramp, that ship could have been filled with shock troops.”
“I’d hate to have to be so paranoid.”
“I do. Welcome to my life.”
Cara liked Jess Jessop, his easy manner, and the way Ben relaxed into their old friendship. Much as he meant what he said, Jessop would still report everything he found of interest on Crossways, and that meant showing him only what they wanted him to see. They couldn’t avoid the tub cabs, of course, but they weren’t going to take him as far as the hub, so they scrambled out of the tub cab on the sixth level and walked him through the piazza, around walls built from piles of rubble, past the stalls and Cara’s favorite barista.
“You want coffee?” Cara asked. “Joe makes the good stuff, though Ben doesn’t drink it, of course.”
“He always drank tea,” Jess said, “or beer.”
“Not so much beer, now,” Ben said. “I need to keep my head clear.”
Cara waved at Joe and held two fingers up for coffees.
Jess laughed. “Did you ever tell Cara about that time on Kalvin Station?”
“Oh, don’t remind me. I had a hangover for a week.”
“We were young and foolish.” Jessop eyed him sideways. “Done a few years of cryo, I guess. You don’t look anywhere near as old as you should.”
“Yes. Sorry about that. My brother makes the same complaint.”
“Your family well?”
“Yes, all of them. I have nephews now, and Nan is still active.”
Cara smiled to herself. Nan was more than active. She was away being Crossways’ ambassador to the independent planets. Jess didn’t need to know that.
Joe handed over the coffees, complete with lids, and Cara passed her handpad over the reader to pay for them.
“It’s up here.” Ben led the way through an open blast door and up a bland staircase, leaving Cara and Jess to walk together.
“So are you on the level, Jess?” It was the kind of direct question that could sometimes shock enough of a wobble out of someone for Cara to pick up intentions.
He grinned at her. “You’re an Empath. I read your file.”
“Sorry, I had to ask.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think you are, but I don’t know about your bosses.”
“I’ll not lie to you; there are problems within the Monitors.”
“Alexandrov?”
“He was a real liability, but he’s gone now. Rodriguez is doing a great job of getting rid of the deadwood. He’s only been in the top job for three years, but already there’s a big improvement. If Crossways wanted to sign up to the Monitor charter and turn legal, he’d support you in any way he could.”
“That’s good to know.”
“That’s not me guessing. Rodriguez actually told me to pass the message on. Nothing in writing, though. Not yet.”
“I’ll tell Garrick.”
“Of course, there might be issues.”
“You mean like the charges against all of us?”
Jess shrugged.
“You know they were all trumped up?” Ben called over his shoulder.
Jess raised his voice to carry forward. “I figured kidnapping thirty thousand settlers might be beyond even you, Benjamin. Besides, it’s not your style.”
“It’s certainly not. Those settlers are safe, now, and the Trust is never going to find out where.”
They reached Blue Seven and brought Jessop into the heart of the Free Company.
“You’ve a sweet setup here.” Jess looked around. “Well protected.”
“Crossways has been good to us.” Ben didn’t mention how profitable their small percentage of Olyanda’s platinum profits had been.
Cara led the way to their apartment and opened the double doors onto the garden. “How do you want to handle the prisoner transfer?”
They made
arrangements to have the prisoners taken securely to Port 46 in an hour, and so Jess’ visit was shorter than Cara suspected either of the two men wanted to make it. She watched them catching up, Ben as casual as she’d ever seen him. When it was time to go, Ben and Jess parted with regret at the short visit but pleasure at the renewed acquaintance.
As Cara and Ben watched the Carylan, loaded with the new prisoners, glide down the slipway from the safety of the port office, Cara heard Ben sigh.
“Did that achieve what you wanted it to achieve?” Cara asked.
“Well, I don’t think it did any damage. If Crossways is going to straighten itself out, it needs to have a working relationship with the Monitors. We’ll get there—in small steps.”
Ben snapped awake instantly as Cara poked him. He swung his legs out of bed. All too often a nudge in the middle of the night heralded trouble.
“Relax, it’s not an emergency this time. Your Nan and Ricky are on their way home. Listen.” She brought him into the conversation. Nan was talking through Chander Dalal, a long-range Telepath from the Free Company who had been with her since she set out on her diplomatic mission more than a year ago.
*We’re coming home,* Nan said.
*When?* Ben asked.
*Just wrapping up negotiations here on Cranford. It’s our fifty-sixth colony. We need to take a break. We’ll come to Crossways first, and then I promised Ricky a trip to Jamundi to see his dad and Kai. He won’t say it, but he’s missing them.*
The megacorporations were vastly powerful when pitted against one colony, or even two, but against fifty-six they started to look like less of a force.
For want of a better name the alliance had become the Crossways Protectorate. As long as they didn’t realize Crossways’ power to protect had been diminished by the battle, everything would work out. One thing Crossways could do, however, was to provide platinum at a price much lower than the megacorps. By cutting out the middleman, Crossways made a better profit and the colonies bought at a lower price. It enabled them to run their own fleets more economically.
The Glory Road slipped gently into Port 22 and dropped into the place Solar Wind had recently vacated. She dwarfed all the other runabouts, even Mother Ramona’s best smuggling vessel, Needle. A yacht in name only, Glory Road was as big as most cruisers, sleek and luxurious. Garrick had loaned her to Nan for the duration of the diplomatic mission on the understanding that the best way to attract help was not to look as if you desperately needed it.
“Nan! Ricky!” Ben was waiting at the bottom of the ramp as the passengers disembarked.
Ricky launched himself from the ramp toward Ben and then pulled up at the last minute, awkward, as if wondering whether a hug or a handshake was most appropriate. Ben solved the problem by drawing him in for a hug, resisting the obvious comment about the boy’s growth spurt. At thirteen, Ricky had become a gangling youth, no longer a child. Rion was going to get a surprise when he saw his son again. He looked more like his older brother Kai now.
“Reska!” Nan was the only one who ever used Ben’s given name.
“Nan!”
Ben let Ricky go and embraced his grandmother. She never looked any older. Tall for her age and with skin like leather from her years working outside on the Benjamin family farm, Louisa Benjamin hugged her grandson fiercely. Ben laughed. Fierce was Nan’s fundamental nature.
“Should we have rolled out the red carpet, Madam Ambassador?”
Nan laughed. “I’d be surprised if you have any red carpet. This place looks like a wreck.”
“Compared to the way it was when you left, it probably does. Compared to what it looked like after the megacorps had finished pounding on it, I can assure you it’s a palace.”
She sniffed. “I’ll take your word for it. Where’s Cara?”
“Blue Seven, making sure your accommodation is comfortable. How was Garrick’s yacht?”
“Luxurious. Better by far than a lot of the garbage cans I’ve traveled in. Captain Dorinska knows her job and Chander has taught Ricky the art of Asian cooking while we’ve been planet-hopping.” She reached up and touched the side of Ben’s face, her pink fingers contrasting with his darker cheek. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, Nan. We’re all fine.”
“I wanted to come back—after the battle.”
“There was nothing you could have done. I was glad you were out of it.” Ben glanced at Ricky.
“Yes, you’re probably right. Though the boy has shown signs of extreme common sense this year. I’m proud of him. We might make a negotiator of him when he’s old enough to get his implant if he can resist the lure of becoming a pilot.”
“We’ve had a number of naturals turn up who don’t need and don’t want implants. Perhaps Ricky might like to talk to them.”
“Hey, I’m here,” Ricky said. “If we’re talking about implants, I think I’m ready now.”
“Don’t be too eager,” Ben said. “Keep your options open. You may be a natural.”
“So if I’m a natural, think how much stronger I’d be with an implant. You’ll not dissuade me, Uncle Ben. I’ve made up my mind.”
“Does he remind you of anyone?” Nan asked.
Ben grinned. “I guess he does. All right, Ricky, if your father gives his permission, you can sit your aptitude tests with Jussaro as a preliminary, and I’ll make you an appointment to see Vina Daniels.”
“I thought Civility Jamieson was your top implant surgeon.”
“He is, but Vina is his best student and much friendlier than Jamieson.”
“A student?”
“She’s a qualified doctor, but still working with Jamieson. That makes her the second-best implant expert on Crossways.”
“Second best?”
“Trust me, that puts her way above any of the Trust’s experts.”
“If you say so.”
“But it doesn’t mean you’ll get your implant straightaway. You’re still young for the process.”
Nan sighed theatrically. “Don’t think I haven’t told him.”
Ben shepherded them out of the dock onto the concourse where a tub cab, decorated with bright swirls of color, stood waiting for them.
“Ah,” Nan shaded her eyes as she climbed in. “I haven’t missed these at all.”
Ben punched in the destination and the tub cab bounced them round toward Blue Seven, a second cab following discreetly.
“Is that Gwala behind us?” Nan asked.
Ben sighed. “There’s usually security around somewhere close. Tengue is very good at his job. Even though I think it’s overkill, I don’t interfere. They can’t cover every eventuality.” He hadn’t worried her with details of Swanson and the attempt on his life. No one had been able to find any connection between Swanson and any of the megacorps, so investigations were at a dead end. He switched to mind-to-mind communication to cut out Ricky. *Crowder’s still out there, and for all we know he may have already sent a hit man, or more than one.*
*Have you taken out a contract on him?*
*I haven’t. Grandfather . . . *
*Yes, he’s keeping a close eye on Crowder, but I doubt even your grandfather can get an assassin inside the high-security accommodation in the Trust Tower. You should have killed Crowder when you had the chance.*
*I thought you were a negotiator.*
With a sideways glance at Ricky she said, *Sometimes it’s better to bury the bodies than leave a live enemy behind you, especially someone like Crowder.*
“Are you talking about me?” Ricky asked.
“No, honey,” Nan said. “We’re talking about war and some of the more distasteful aspects.”
“Are we at war with the megacorps? If so, I should get an implant right now. I can help.”
Ben shook his head. “It’s never what you think it’s going to be. I was caught up
in two local wars when I was in the Monitors. You need to be in a war to appreciate it, preferably on the losing side. You won’t love it so much after that.”
Ricky’s eyes widened. “Will you tell me about it?”
“Someday. It wasn’t fun. Though that’s how I met Mother Ramona. I had some Burnish refugees to smuggle out of the danger zone. A promise I’d made to someone who died.”
“So what ha—”
“We’re here,” Ben said. “Let’s get you settled.”
“Nan!” Cara hugged Nan, then Ricky. The boy was taller than she was and, though lanky, was heading for the same height as his father and his Uncle Ben. “Good to see you. I’ve put you in the same guest accommodation you had before, right above me and Ben. All you need to do is bang on the floor and we’ll come running.”
“I’m sure we’ll manage without disturbing you,” Nan said. “Lord, but it’s good to see you again. Keeping in touch mentally isn’t the same as seeing everyone in person. But we can’t stay long. I think Ricky’s been missing his dad and Kai.”
Ricky shot her a look as if to say he was perfectly okay, but Cara caught a wave of emotion from him. “I’m sure you have, too,” she said.
“Truth to tell, I have,” Nan said. “I’m ready for a break, and Jamundi sounds very tempting. I never thought I’d say this, but I miss the farm.”
“Come down to our apartment when you’re ready. I begged some good beans from Ada—dark roast—or I can make tea.”
“Ah, excellent. I remember your coffee.”
It took less than half an hour for Nan and Ricky to arrive at Ben and Cara’s door. While Ben made tea for himself, Ricky, Nan, and Cara settled with satisfied grins and a large mug of hot, strong coffee each.
“So, before I go and report to Garrick, I guess you want to know how it went,” Nan said.
“I’ve been keeping score,” Ben said. “But it’s not just about the numbers.”
“You’re right. It’s not. In general, the independents are very unhappy about the price they are paying the megacorps for platinum; it raises the price of imported goods artificially. Some of the colonies have their own fleets to maintain. The megacorps are charging a premium for platinum rods and extra tariffs at the jump gates.”
Nimbus Page 24