“All clear, Boss,” Dobson said from the systems station.
Cara relayed it throughout the ship, receiving affirmative responses from the forty or so psi-techs.
“Folds coming up in three, two . . .”
With the feeling that something had imploded, Solar Wind popped out of existence in realspace.
• • •
They emerge into the oily black of foldspace.
*Are you all right?* Cara asks.
*So far, so good,* Ben says. *No void dragons yet.*
*Ben, there’s a void dragon half as big again as my sick bay cramming itself in here,* Ronan calls. *It’s fascinated by Keely and Cho.*
Cara flicks the image of sick bay on to the peripheral screen. There’s a shimmer on the screen that could be a void dragon looming over Kitty.
“Are you recording?” Ben asks Cara.
“Yes.”
*See if you can get any information from it, Ronan,* Ben says.
*How can I do that when we have no common language?*
*How are Keely and Cho reacting to the dragon?*
Ronan checks readouts on his screen. *Keely’s agitated, but her vitals are within normal range. Cho’s terrified. Heart rate through the roof.*
*They can both see it?*
*Without a doubt.*
*When I interviewed Cho, he didn’t react to the void dragon image.*
*Well, he can certainly see it now.*
*I can hold us in foldspace for a while longer. See if you can get either Keely or Cho to say something.*
*I’ll try my best.*
Ben can’t simply put Solar Wind on automatics unless it’s a dire emergency, but he keeps flicking his attention to the screen to see what’s happening in sick bay. The shimmer that might be the void dragon, hitherto still, suddenly whirls around and pops out of existence.
*That’s weird,* Ronan says. *The void dragon looked terrified and—*
*Vanished. I saw.*
*Oh, gods! Get us out of here, now!* The tone of Ronan’s voice changes completely in an instant. Ben can’t see anything on the screen.
*What’s happening?*
*It started as a dark smudge in the air on the far side of sick bay. Now it’s as big as a fist. I think it’s your Nimbus.*
*Shit!*
Ben touches the controls and reaches for the line with his mind.
*Exiting foldspace on my mark. Three. Two. One.*
They pop out of the Folds into realspace.
• • •
Ronan’s face was ashen as he described the Nimbus. Everyone else had disembarked from Solar Wind. Med-techs had taken Kitty and Cho away in float chairs. Ben and Cara met Ronan in the now-deserted sick bay.
“It was there, but not there,” Ronan said. “I’m beginning to wonder if I imagined it . . . except I’m still shaking.”
Nothing had shown up on the video feed, though that wasn’t necessarily proof of anything. The void dragons never showed up on actual recordings, not even as a disturbance in the air.
“Tell us what you saw,” Ben said.
“I’m not sure when it manifested. I saw a wisp of something, but it might have been there for some time. Both Keely and Cho were becoming more agitated and I was concentrating on them.”
“Was it the Nimbus that was causing their agitation?”
“Presuming whatever I saw was the Nimbus.”
“Let’s say it was.”
“Cause and effect? Again, I don’t know. They may have been able to sense it coming, or they may have simply reacted when it was too small for me to notice it. I did . . . feel something, though. A chill and a wave of animosity. I thought that was probably Keely and Cho, pissed off at me for having them in restraints, but it might not have been. Then the Nimbus started to coalesce and, small as it was, it was utterly terrifying.”
“Your med-techs?”
“In the outer room, strapped in for the jump.”
“So no one else saw anything?”
“Just Keely and Cho, woozy under sedation, so they won’t be much use. I sensed it wanted something. I don’t know if that was me or Keely or Cho, or all three of us.” He frowned. “Although . . . maybe I do . . . know, I mean. Keely and Cho were its focus. I’m not sure where that left me. I think I was a tasty bonus.”
Ben looked at Cara. “Does this implicate the Nimbus in what’s been happening to the colonies?”
“You mean it’s sending humans that have been lost in the Folds back out into realspace to attack other humans? Why would it? What does it have to gain? Things that happen in realspace don’t affect foldspace and the other way around.”
“Unless they do and we simply don’t know about it.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
QUESTIONS
THEY WERE STILL THINKING ABOUT WHAT had happened on Jamundi when news came in of another attack on a colony—this time one belonging to Arquavisa. The details were sparse, but from what Cara could gather from the amalgamation of half a dozen separate news broadcasts, a ship had attacked a well-established colony, dropping wide-dispersal canisters of Agent Topax from the air on all three major centers and every hectare of cultivated land. A corrosive herbicide and defoliant, Topax was designed for use on uninhabited planets as a prelude to terraforming. It was deadly to all carbon-based life and remained active for three years from the time of deployment. It was also now banned by interstellar treaty.
Digging a little deeper, Cara discovered that the ship was one of Arquavisa’s own, though Arquavisa was strongly denying it. Why would a megacorporation attack one of its own colonies with its own ship? Answer—it wouldn’t.
Cara accessed the files that J.P. Lister had cracked and began digging through the records of lost ships dating back to the first use of Topax and the last—a period of only thirty-two years. That narrowed it down.
Nothing.
She extended the search to five years either side. The earlier years when Topax would have been in development, and the later years when, though banned, there might still be stocks in existence.
There. An Arquavisa transport had been lost in the Folds seventeen years ago. Her cargo manifest included Topax. Had it come back with deadly intent?
If so, how?
Cara’s grasp of foldspace physics had never been much more than she needed in order to do her job. In other words, as long as she could hurl messages across the vastness of the galaxy, the deep questions on the nature of the Folds weren’t relevant.
She had a working knowledge of celestial mechanics, orbital mechanics, and time dilation, but when Ben asked her to help him check for recent research into foldspace dynamics, she figured she needed backup.
“Can you put me in touch with your best astrophysicist?” Cara asked Garrick.
She’d made the trip to the Mansion House while Ben, whose knowledge of foldspace physics was much better than hers, pored over available research.
Garrick looked . . . stretched thin. She didn’t know how else to describe it. It was as if his skin didn’t quite fit him. She wouldn’t have been surprised if, when he blinked, his eyelids were translucent. She found herself watching.
He did.
They weren’t.
But all the same, something was wrong. A little knot of worry lodged somewhere behind her sternum. Garrick was a friend, but more importantly he was the driving force behind Crossways’ lurch toward legitimacy. If something happened to him, the strongest crimelords would come circling like sharks.
Garrick cleared his throat and frowned at her, not quite focused. He fiddled with a stylus on his desk. He picked it up, turned it around in his fingers, put it down again. He didn’t look her in the eyes when he said, “You’re particularly interested in academic research now because?”
Garrick, of all people had a right to know. �
��Because we have evidence that the refugees who attacked the colonies came out of foldspace. Some of them had been in there for a very long time, but were no older than when they went in. Others had been in there for less than a year.” She let him digest the information. “Kitty Keely was one of them. She thinks it all happened a few days ago. Has no idea a year has passed.”
Garrick leaped to his feet and then sat down so hard in his float chair that it hit the floor and bounced back. He said nothing, but his face went through several changes. Shock and awe pretty well covered most of it. He put one hand up to his mouth and pinched his lips in an effort not to speak until he was ready.
“You’re still having nightmares, aren’t you?” Cara asked.
“How did you . . . No. Well, yes. Sometimes.”
“You mean every time you close your eyes?”
“Not always the same. Not always the same . . . intensity.”
Garrick’s knuckles were white as he grasped the arm of his chair.
“Did you ever take the implant aptitude tests when you were a teen?” she asked.
“Ben asked me that, once. Like I told him, they don’t test you in juvie detention or on the streets.”
“So you’ve never been tested at all?”
“Why would I?”
“Because you’re transmitting those dreams to me and Ben. I don’t know if they’re going any farther, or whether we’re getting them because we were with you and saw the Nimbus for ourselves.”
He gave her a disbelieving look.
“You dream of being inside it, right?”
“How did—? Yes.” He inhaled and blew out a long breath. “Will it ever end?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Your dreams are nature’s way of telling you that you have something to deal with. If you’re projecting, you may need a damper.”
“Will that stop the dreams?”
“Sadly, no, but it may stop you projecting them. What does your physician say?”
Garrick shrugged. “Says she knows nothing about foldspace.”
“And that’s the big problem,” Cara said. “Nobody knows. Hence, I need to talk to the station’s best theoretical physicist. Maybe part of the solution is learning more.”
It turned out the person Cara needed was Doctor Christa Beckham. Tempted away from Earth to teach at Crossways’ embryonic university, she’d been injured and spent seven months recovering from leg and spinal surgery—time she’d used to work on a paper about foldspace illusions. Since getting out of rehab, she’d started to teach again, but continued working on the paper.
Cara slipped into the back of her class and caught the last ten minutes of a lecture that made her glad her student days were behind her. She approached Doctor Beckham after the lecture theater emptied.
“Doctor Beckham.”
“You’re new. I don’t do catch-up sessions, so if you missed anything, you’ll have to ask one of the other students. Try Altberg. She has a brain and she almost knows how to use it. Avoid Pashley. He thinks he knows what he’s talking about, but he hasn’t a clue.”
“I’m not a student.”
“No? Well, good day to you, then.”
“I am interested in your work on foldspace illusions. They’re not illusions, you know.”
“And you know this because?”
“I’ve seen them.”
“People see illusions. The clue is in the name.”
“Do people hear illusions, too?”
“Hmm, interesting. Tell me what you know.”
“I’d have to take you to see Ben Benjamin. I’m from the Free Company and we need to talk to you about the latest research into foldspace dynamics.”
“Benjamin. Isn’t he the one who—”
“Flew this space station through the Folds, yes.”
“I was in surgery at the time. Missed the whole damn thing. Pity, it would have been a perfect opportunity.”
“Opportunity?”
“I’ve devised an apparatus that I believe will show minute temperature and pressure variations if these foldspace illusions are real, but I haven’t had the opportunity to test it yet.”
Cara smiled. “I think we might be able to help each other out. Will you come to Free Company headquarters at Blue Seven and hear what we have to say?”
“When?”
“As soon as you can.”
“I’ll get my coat.”
Cara was able to study Christa Beckham on the way to Blue Seven. She was hardly middle-aged, but she moved as though she was practicing to be an old lady someday soon. She walked with a cane, slowly, and with a pronounced limp. She kept her eyes cast down to the ground, taking care where she put the tip of the cane and her own feet. She climbed into the tub cab awkwardly and sat down with a thump, strapping in and leaning slightly forward, resting both hands on the curved handle of the cane. Her shoulder-length hair, black with a sprinkling of silver, flopped forward around her face.
“How do you like teaching at the university?” Cara felt the need to start a conversation.
“They’re morons, but maybe not quite as moronic as the kids at Oxford.”
“You taught at Oxford? Earth Oxford?”
“I don’t know of any other. The kids there were all acutely aware that their parents were somebodies: rich, or politically notable, or maybe media stars, or famous for being famous. With the very occasional exception, they weren’t there to learn, or, at least, not there to learn physics. Oxford is famous for its politicians; those guys aren’t interested in what makes their world tick. They honestly believe it ticks around them anyway.” She shrugged. “The kids here don’t have much except ambition and raw talent. I can make something out of that. And, of course, I have time and funding for my research. That was part of the deal when they hired me.”
“You were one of the ones Garrick hired before—”
“Just before Crossways got pounded on. A block of masonry fell on me.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged again. “They put most of me back together, and it didn’t cost me a cent. You have time to think while you’re lying in a hospital bed. That’s what I’m good at, thinking.”
The tub cab drew up outside Blue Seven. One of the gate guards stepped forward to help Doctor Beckham out of the cab.
“Don’t I know you?” She craned her neck to look up.
“I volunteer at the hospital, ma’am. I believe I pushed your float chair around once or twice.”
“Graham, Lew Graham, I remember. You’re sweet on that nurse. What was her name? Liza, that’s it.”
“Liza Roberts. We tied the knot a couple of months ago. Baby’s due any time now.”
“Well, congratulations, Mr. Graham. Girl or a boy?”
“Girl.”
“When she’s old enough, send her to my physics class.”
“I’ll be sure and do that.”
Cara smiled at Graham as they passed into the barbican. She felt vaguely guilty for not knowing he’d married and was expecting a child. She sighed. Ben probably knew. It was good that the mercs were settling in and putting down roots, though.
*Ben, we’re here. Where are you?*
*Office. I’ll see you in the meeting room in five minutes with Ronan.*
Cara had time to visit the food counter to get coffee and sandwiches for herself and Doctor Beckham. She settled their visitor in the meeting room before Ronan arrived.
“Ah, good, I won’t be eating alone.” Ronan had a large insulated mug and a substantial piece of chocolate cake. “Would you like me to rustle up more cake?”
Cara looked at the sandwich and wondered why she hadn’t ordered cake as well, but Doctor Beckham was already shaking her head.
*Are you bringing cake?* she asked Ben.
*I wasn’t, but I could.*
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She smiled at him mentally, a warm huggy feeling.
*I’ll bring extra.*
He arrived with a tray with not only cake, but also some of Ada Levenson’s pastries.
“Do you treat all your visitors so well?” Doctor Beckham asked.
“Only those we want to butter up for favors,” Ben said. “We need information on any new developments and research on foldspace—anything that might have been flagged recently, particularly if it’s unusual or unexpected.”
“I need some context,” Doctor Beckham said. “Tit for tat.”
Ben nodded. “Last year I ended up flying Solar Wind out of the docking bay and straight into foldspace with four limpet mines attached to her belly, ticking down to boom.” He shrugged. “Long story. Please take my word for it.”
Cara knew the story, but it still made her flesh creep. She’d so nearly lost Ben. It took days for him to find his way back and he brought a fantastic story with him. It had sounded far-fetched at the time, but she’d seen things since that verified every word of it.
Ben kept the frills to a minimum. “Pilot-Navigators are taught that what they see in foldspace isn’t real. I always tried to believe that, though there are times when your brain and your gut instinct have to tough it out on opposite sides. On this occasion, I was alone on the flight deck and there was this creature—a dragon.”
“Dragon?”
“A void dragon. Huge. Like a cross between a winged lizard and a sea horse with eyes as black as the depths of foldspace.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Scales and leather. It was the kind of black that’s iridescent, like oil on water.”
“You thought it was real?”
“It was real. It is real. I’ve seen it since. We all have. It doesn’t show up on security video except sometimes as a heat haze if you know where to look, but this is a drawing.”
Ben activated his handpad and a hologram of the void dragon popped into being. Doctor Beckham swayed in her chair. “Not everyone can see them, or it. We don’t know whether there’s one or many, but those who can, those who are already Navigators, that is, are likely to have the talent to be able to fly a jumpship through the Folds.”
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