“No ship is safe in the Folds,” Ben said, “though jumpships are probably safest because they appear randomly. Ships coming through the gates are predictable and easier to catch.”
“So again, I ask how we can stop it,” Ronan said as he brought ice from the drinks dispenser wrapped in a towel and gently applied it to Max’s hand. “There has to be something we can do.”
“I don’t think we can,” Ben said.
“But that thing can’t invade realspace,” Max said. “Can it?”
“Not by itself,” Ben said. “Hence the human avatars. The only thing we can do is stop sending recruits, and stop letting the avatars into realspace. That’s what Liv, or the dragon, said.”
“Stop using the Folds?” Cara said.
“At least stop using the jump gates. And if our platinum is polluting foldspace to the extent that the one part per several billion is hurting the Nimbus, then do we have the right to destroy another creature’s environment?”
“Are we talking morality?” Ronan asked.
“Possibly, but we’re also talking practicality. We send people through the jump gates and there’s a chance they become recruits for the Nimbus. The jump gates allow the avatars into realspace. The first few attacks were random, and ill conceived. The half-arsed way people with no idea about fighting might try to fight, but it’s learning. There was the Agent Topax attack. It’s using whatever we send it. If we give it troopships and weapons, we can expect it to use them. If we give it recruits with military training, we can expect to have them used against us.”
“So closing the jump gates means denying the Nimbus assets?” Cara said.
Ben nodded. “Maybe I’m reading more into what Liv said, but she said she’d never seen a jump gate.”
“There could be reasons for that,” Ronan said, securing the towel filled with ice around Max’s hand accompanied by Max’s indrawn breath and a few choice curses.
“I’m willing to be convinced if there’s another way,” Ben said. “Gods! I hope there is. Closing the jump gates—even if everybody agrees to do it—is a paradigm shift.” He sounded as though he was trying to convince himself, or maybe talk himself out of it. “I can’t think of anything else that would ensure the attacks on colonies ended. At least until there’s a technological breakthrough and we figure out how to stop platinum bleeding into the Folds with every jump.”
“What about the colonies?” Cara said. “They’re not all self-sufficient.”
“They’ll have to become self-sufficient,” Ben said. “Or if they’re not viable, they’ll have to be evacuated.”
“Without jump gates?”
“Jumpships can still risk foldspace. I admit the future for mankind in space looks bleak, but the question we have to ask is: is isolation better than annihilation?”
“What about the Nimbus’ avatars, or drones, or whatever you want to call them?” Cara said. “Can they be rehabilitated?” She looked at Ronan. “What do you think?”
He shrugged. “We’ve got Kitty. We can try, but whatever we do is experimental.”
Max glanced across at Gen and Liv. He looked as though he’d bitten into the soft heart of a fruit and found half a worm. “When Garrick collapsed after seeing Kitty, Liv ran off into the infirmary and we found her pressed up against the glass with Kitty on the other side.”
“Max, don’t you dare!” Gen said from the other side of the room. She had Liv asleep on her knee and didn’t raise her voice, but she didn’t need to.
“It might be important, Gen.”
“This is our daughter you’re talking about.”
Max clamped his lips together on whatever he’d been going to say.
Chapter Forty-Three
SANCTUARY
ARRIVING BACK AT BLUE SEVEN, BEN DID THE walk of shame to his office—the longest walk of Ben’s life. Gwala and Hilde walked slightly behind him, one to each side, and the parade of Cara, Ronan, Gen, Max, and little Liv followed about ten paces back.
He was conscious of the silence, not only verbal silence, but mental silence. Did they all know what he’d done? If they didn’t now, they would soon.
He deserved whatever they thought of him.
Did he regret it?
Yes.
Would he do it again?
In a heartbeat.
At least they had an answer. It hadn’t happened the way he’d expected it to happen, but taking Liv into foldspace had worked. He still wasn’t sure why. Couldn’t the void dragon have brought ten-year-old Liv to talk to them anytime? Obviously, not without baby Liv in exchange. Maybe it was something about balance.
Wenna’s expression as he passed through her office to get to his own was the last straw. He was grateful to hear the door close behind him and lock firmly.
House arrest, Ronan had said, or rather, office arrest. His office had everything he needed, including a small sleeping cubicle and washroom for those times when he’d had to stay ready, or had pulled an all-nighter.
He sank into his chair and covered his eyes with his right hand. His eyelids prickled, but tears weren’t an option. He should be elated; he’d found out why the attacks were happening, but all he felt was hollow. The shell of Ben Benjamin was the only thing remaining. He’d scooped out everything else and thrown it away. Not only thrown it away but hurled it into a pit and heaped molten slag on top of it until it was irretrievable.
They hadn’t insisted on a damping pin to cut him off from all communication, but he doubted anyone wanted to talk to him, and he didn’t want to talk to anyone either. He was finished. It was up to the rest of them to take the new information and run with it.
He might even be relieved.
He let that thought sink in.
Maybe suddenly not being responsible for the livelihood and welfare of the Free Company was liberating. He’d been on the treadmill ever since Crowder had called him back to Chenon to head the Olyanda expedition. Lurching from one crisis to another took its toll. He opened a desk drawer and took out his own damping pin.
Time for a rest.
He stuck the pin in his collar, headed for the narrow cot, flopped down, and fell into a deep sleep. He didn’t dream—not even of Cara.
“I’m leaving,” Gen said, stepping past Cara into the apartment. She had Liv on one hip and a small bag in her free hand.
“What, right now?” Cara almost squeaked. “That’s the smallest traveling bag I’ve ever seen.”
Gen’s face cracked into a smile, though it was a sad one that barely reached her eyes. “No, these are Liv’s toys. It saves her from pulling your stuff apart when she gets bored. I didn’t want to stay in our apartment and I figured you’d be feeling all kinds of weird in yours, so we’ve come to cheer you up and say a proper thank you, and to ask for your help in getting out of here.”
She put Liv down on the floor and gave her the bag. The first thing out was the dragon and Liv went running toward the garden door, whooshing for all she was worth.
Cara shrugged. “It was the right thing to do—though I don’t know if it helped. Ben would have brought Liv back safely anyway, and the result would have been the same.”
“Yes, but you stuck your neck out for us, you and Jake. And everyone is being super-nice since we arrived back.”
“How’s Max?”
Gen shrugged. “I don’t get him. He slugged Benjamin and now he’s saying it wasn’t altogether a bad thing Liv spoke to the dragon, and he was pleased he met ten-year-old Liv. He thinks he’s dead in that future. I mean—I know Liv acted like she hadn’t seen him for a while, but there can be lots of reasons. . . .”
“Future Liv didn’t know any of us,” Cara said. “Are we all dead?”
Gen shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about that—”
“Good things can come from bad,” Cara said. “I’m not making excuses fo
r him, but I don’t suppose Ben would have done what he did unless he thought he had absolutely no choice. I mean, would anything he said have persuaded you to let him take Liv into the Folds?”
Gen shook her head. “Not in a million years. Are you backtracking now?”
“No. He was wrong and he knows it. I don’t know where everything goes from here. I suppose you have to make an official complaint.”
“I’m not sticking around that long. Max can do it. I’m taking Liv and getting as far away as I can. I want Sanctuary.”
“You do?”
“That’s what it’s for, isn’t it? I want us to disappear where no one can ever find us again. That’s the reason ten-year-old Liv doesn’t know you all.”
“It’s so sudden.” Cara swallowed hard. “I know you feel let down, but—”
“Betrayed. In the worst possible way.”
Cara understood. What Ben did was so out of character. Even as she thought that, she realized how he did it was out of character, but what he did was probably not. He was still trying to save the world or—in this case—many worlds. She took a deep breath.
“All right, what can I do to help?”
“We’ll need new idents, foolproof ones, and somewhere to go. Somewhere Ben can’t ever find us. I’ve risked my life for Ben and the Free Company, but I won’t risk my daughter’s.”
“What about Max?”
“You heard what I said. He thinks what Ben did will save millions of lives. He practically said Ben did the right thing.”
“He didn’t think so at the time.”
She shrugged. “It’s not been easy. I think Liv scares him. We’ll be better off with just the two of us.”
“I remember you and Max on Olyanda. You were so in love.”
Gen swallowed hard. “That was then. This is now.”
“Wherever you go, you’re going to have to take her through the Folds again.”
“I know. It’s a risk if we go and an even bigger risk if we stay. It’s obvious I take her into the Folds when she’s older. We’ve both seen the older version of her. Believe me, I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought there was any other way. The Free Company’s like family.”
“All right. Whatever you need, but . . . I’m going to miss you.”
“Come with us.”
For a brief moment the idea was so tempting.
“Come on, Cara, you and me and Liv, free as birds.”
Was it Ben that held her back, or was it the commitment she’d made to the Free Company?
“I have to see this through, Gen, wherever it leads. Whatever I think of Ben personally, I’ll stick with the Free Company until this is resolved. We have to get the word out there. They’ll need a long-range Telepath more now than ever. After that, well, maybe. Don’t forget. Wherever you end up, I can contact you mind-to-mind.”
“But you won’t, will you?”
Cara shook her head. “Not if you don’t want me to.”
“I need a clean break from all this. Even from you if you’re staying.”
“I get it. When do you want to leave?”
“As soon as possible.”
“I think I have an idea about those jumps though foldspace. What if you had a jumpship? Liv said you traveled on the Dixie Flyer.”
Ben didn’t know how long he’d been awake. At least the damping pin was protecting him from Garrick’s dreams. He didn’t need them right now. He had enough problems of his own.
Leaving the problems to others was so tempting, but his brain wouldn’t stop churning.
Close down the jump gates.
Just like that.
Thousands of them.
And he was only one man. He couldn’t decide the fate of the galaxy. Even if the Free Company backed him, they were still pissing in the wind. What they needed was the agreement and cooperation of every corporation, mega and otherwise, every planetary government, and every colony with its own fleet. How likely was that? The task was more than daunting.
How persuasive were the facts?
The illusions from foldspace were real. Creatures lived in the void. There was scientific proof, though even Doctor Beckham would admit this was only the beginning of her study, so the proof was thin as yet.
Of course, the megacorps already knew foldspace creatures were real. Otherwise, why would they try so hard to persuade all their pilots in training that they were illusions?
Void dragons were benign and might even prove to be friendly. Otter-kind were neutral, but hadn’t done anything to harm humans as far as Ben knew. The Nimbus, which appeared to be a hive-mind, composite creature, was actively antagonistic, and retaliating for damage to its environment. Maybe without the pollution it would have ignored them—or continued to ignore them. It had taken hundreds of years of foldspace travel for this to come to a head. Maybe the Nimbus didn’t experience linear time, or maybe it was a vast hive-mind intelligence that regarded a few hundred years as an eyeblink in its eternity.
He needed to talk to people to see if the idea of closing the jump gates made sense.
Ben had questions. The void dragons had answers. Olivia May Marling was the missing link, but he could forget any further help from that direction. He truly regretted what he’d done, but still couldn’t see how he could have done anything different. He hoped, in time, Gen and Max would forgive him.
Max awoke to silence.
He felt the other half of the bed. Empty.
That wasn’t right. The apartment was rarely quiet. If Gen and Liv were up and about, there was usually music playing, voices chatting, and the clatter of plates at breakfast time.
“Gen?”
No answer.
*Gen?*
No answer.
He felt the first flush of unease, but went through the routine of dressing at his usual pace. They’d probably popped out to take a turn around Blue Seven, or gone to have breakfast somewhere. He looked at the time. It was early, though never too early for Ada Levenson to be serving breakfast. Sometime in the early hours of the station’s official morning, supper seamlessly turned to breakfast on the food counter. He wandered down there, but though there were four groups of early breakfasters, Gen and Liv were not among them.
He walked up to the main office, but it was so early that even Wenna hadn’t turned up for work yet. There were two of Tengue’s guards sitting outside Ben’s locked office door. He left them guarding. Ben wasn’t about to break out. He appeared genuinely contrite and willing to comply with whatever the Free Company asked of him, up to and including, “Go float yourself out of the nearest airlock.”
With Ben in lockup, perhaps Gen was with Cara. She’d visited a few times over the last couple of days. The two of them were slipping back into their old friendship. Was it too early to wake Cara?
He knocked on Cara’s door, expecting to have to wait while she dragged herself out of bed, but she answered almost immediately, fully clothed and wide awake.
“Max, come in. I didn’t expect you so soon.”
“You were expecting me?”
“Well, yes, I figured . . .” She frowned at him. “You’ve not read her note, have you?”
“What note?”
“Damn, damn, and double damn. She said she’d leave you a note to explain . . . to say good-bye.”
“Good-bye? What do you mean?”
“She’s gone.”
“Gone?” Max felt stupid repeating what Cara said, but he couldn’t take it in. “You mean she’s left me?”
“Come in. Don’t stand there on the doorstep.” Cara opened the door wide. “She’s left all of us. She’s taken Sanctuary and gone where none of us can follow.”
“But . . . But . . . Why didn’t she tell me she was going? Why didn’t she ask me . . . ?”
“She thought you were coming around to Ben
’s way of thinking. Some people are.”
“Never!” Max looked at the sausage-fingers and the yellowing bruise flowing out of the casing on his injured hand and knew it was true. “Oh, I don’t deny the greater good, but Liv is my daughter. When I thought we’d lost her, I . . . well I didn’t know what to do. I can’t lose her again, and I can’t lose Gen. How can I find her?”
“That’s the point of Sanctuary. There’s a network. The people we send down the line are passed on and on again from one cell to another.”
“She’s flying through the Folds on commercial ships? How do I know she’s even safe?”
Cara smiled. “Not quite. I gave her Ben’s Dixie Flyer. She’s flying herself, quick jumps in and out, not even staying in there long enough to give the void dragon a chance to call. I figured Ben owed her.”
“He loves that little ship.”
“Yes.” She grinned even wider. “Doesn’t he?”
“So how can I catch up?”
“You can’t bring her back.”
“I’m not intending to. I’m going with her.”
Cara looked at him, eyes wide. Then she simply nodded. “Mother Ramona’s not going to like being woken at this time in the morning for a new ident.”
“Don’t worry her. I still have the one she did for me when I went to Chenon with Ben.”
“Okay, then we need Jake again. Pack a bag. Bring whatever you need.”
“Can you give me half an hour?”
“To pack a bag?”
“I need to stop at the office first.”
He packed a bag in five minutes and then raced to the accounts office. Billy Naseby hadn’t arrived yet. Good. He could hear Wenna in the office next door, and it sounded as if Ben’s guards were changing shift. He sat down at his desk. Everything was in order, Billy would be able to pick up where Max left off. If Ben managed to close the jump gates, the price of platinum would plummet. He’d already converted some of their stockpile to credits so the Free Company would survive any financial slump, and he’d warned Garrick to do the same.
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