Nimbus

by Jacey Bedford

  He’d underestimated her before. The last time was when he’d imprisoned her on Chenon with her great-grandson, Ricky, keeping her sedated so she couldn’t use her telepathy and empathy. She’d managed to get away, though she’d had help from Carlinni and Benjamin.

  She inclined her head toward him and raised one eyebrow. She might as well have passed him a note saying: I haven’t forgotten.

  “I’d like to call the meeting to order, please.” Tori LeBon was fond of subtle amplification, which added resonance and presence to her voice. “This special general meeting is to discuss developments in foldspace which could have serious consequences for our trade. I’d like to introduce our guests, today: Malusi Duma, outgoing president of Pan Africa, for the next two years adviser to the FPA treasury, and life-member of the second chamber of the Five Power Alliance. Next, we have Miss Louisa Benjamin, representing the Independent Planets Protectorate, which now has a membership of sixty-five. And here as an independent voice is Sebastian Rodriguez, Commissioner in Chief for the Monitors. Commissioner Rodriguez has brought Professor Eve Moyo, who will begin with a short presentation.”

  Moyo stood, and all their wafer pads activated.

  “My department is responsible for training pilots for the Monitors and coordinating cutting-edge foldspace research at the University of Shield City. Some very disturbing developments, borne out by recent events, lead us to believe we are on the cusp of enormous changes in the way we—and by that, I mean all spacefaring corporations, planets, and independent colonies—need to approach long-distance travel in future. Though the Trust’s figures are somewhat opaque . . .” At this she looked around the table, but received only blank stares, Crowder’s among them. He knew when to keep his face straight.

  Moyo glanced down at her own pad. “Though the Trust’s figures are as opaque as every megacorporation’s, I’ve had a team working to collate ship and colony losses over the past ten years. The figures are cumulatively astounding, though I’m sure not entirely a surprise to the people around this table. The figures are on your wafer screens. You may be surprised to see that your own losses are not the greatest.”

  That did get a reaction, though only a low-level murmur.

  “You will, by now, be aware of the loss of the Pinch Point Hub. I can confirm our own ship, the Washington, sent a small research craft into foldspace and observed what, for want of a better term, has been called the Nimbus. We believe it’s a foldspace entity of unknown size comprised of many elements connected by a hive-mind. In other words, it’s not something we can simply eliminate, and neither can we ignore it. We’ve taught our pilot-Navigators that foldspace visions are an illusion. We’ve actually known for some years that they aren’t, but since this method has worked on a practical level until now, we’ve continued to teach it. With the discovery of the Nimbus, that has to change. The Nimbus is most dangerous to vessels flying the Folds via the jump gate system. We’ve been able to analyze samples recently collected, and we can confirm that platinum discharge is polluting foldspace, especially the frequently used corridors between major gates and hubs. That pollution is damaging the Nimbus and is what has triggered this retaliation.”

  She glanced sideways at Rodriguez, and he jerked his head in a barely perceptible nod.

  As Moyo sat, Rodriguez stood.

  “The loss of Pinch Point Hub cost the lives of three and a half thousand people—administrative, technical, support workers, and passengers unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I need hardly tell you that this is a disaster. More to the point, the cumulative losses are unprecedented in the history of humanity in space. It has been suggested, and we concur, that the only way to prevent further losses is to close down the jump gate system.”

  He halted for the shock wave to penetrate and the exclamations to cease.

  “Order, please.” LeBon’s sound enhancement cut through everything.

  Crowder kept his lips pressed together. There was no point in arguing with the delegation. Crossways had a hand in this. They knew closing down the jump gate systems would cripple the Trust, which was exactly what they were after. He’d wait until the next meeting, the one that was bound to come as soon as their visitors had left. He had his own views and would make them known.

  Rodriguez handed the meeting over to Louisa Benjamin. “The Independent Planets have considered the alternatives and have agreed to decommission their jump gates. We have begun this process.”

  “What about essential supplies?” Andile Zikhali asked.

  “Those planets not self-sufficient are being supplied by ships retrofitted with jump drives, but measures to become self-sufficient are being explored even now. It is our sincere hope that within a decade, barring natural disasters, no planet will need subsistence supplies. We intend to cut interstellar travel to a minimum because—in case you didn’t pick up on the other important thing here—we are polluting foldspace.”

  Adam Hyde, always too obvious, had the temerity to shrug. Ah, yes. Now Crowder remembered why Miss Benjamin’s iron-gray hair and steel-blue eyes had once made him wonder whether she had metal in her bones.

  “Mr. Hyde . . .” She glowered at him. “I don’t need to remind you about climate change and what kind of a state the Earth was in by the middle of the twenty-first century, do I? We nearly wiped ourselves out before we managed to launch our first colony ships. Pollution is serious. Reversing it is way more difficult than not creating it in the first place.”

  Malusi Duma cleared his throat and Crowder saw him brush the back of her hand. She sat down and gave him the floor.

  “If I may . . .” Duma said. His voice resonated without Tori LeBon’s amplification. “When Commissioner Rodriguez first approached the Five Power Alliance about this matter, we were as skeptical as I can see some of you are. That was before the loss of the Pinch Point Hub. We have debated this extensively and the Five Power Alliance supports the closure of the jump gate system, and as an interim measure, the use of jumpships until we can crack the problem of platinum loss in foldspace. I urge you to consider giving over your Research and Development resources to solving the platinum problem, not in isolation, but sharing resources with all the other megacorporations, with the universities, with the independent planets, and with the Five Power Alliance. As a mark of our sincerity, we have made all our ongoing research available to the University of Shield City and through them to any megacorporation or organization that will also do the same.”

  Ha! Crowder would bet that if the FPA was willing to give away research, it was worthless.

  Garrick woke from another nightmare, the third in as many hours. He couldn’t take much more of this. He’d left Mona in their bed and settled on the couch in his study after the second one so he wouldn’t disturb her.

  Or was it so she didn’t see him pop a second bulb of detanine?

  He needed to sleep. There was too much to do and not enough hours in the day to do it.

  If he didn’t get some sleep, he’d be useless tomorrow. He’d offered to meet with Fynan Sharputra at nine, and to entertain Nathalie Beauvais of House Indigo at lunch. Both of them were exploring ways their respective organizations could put their criminal skills to profitable and legal use on Crossways. Garrick was willing to overlook a little free-trading off-station, but only if it was sheltered behind a legitimate business.

  He lay on the couch, turning first one way and then the other, desperate for sleep, but petrified about what it would bring with it. When he was awake, he knew the nightmares weren’t real, but his dream self didn’t have that luxury.

  “Dammit-all-to-hell!” He swung his legs off the couch, sat up and reached for the bulbs on the table. He popped one and looked at the last one with longing. Well, why not. He needed the sleep.

  As the second dose took hold of him, he knew he’d gone too far. He looked at his handpad, trying to discern the time in the gloom. The fig
ures zoomed in and out. He screwed up his eyes and tried to catch them on the rebound. Aww, hell, it wasn’t even three, yet he’d taken three shots of detanine in under three hours. No! Four shots. That couldn’t be good. He needed to get help. Tell Mona, at least.

  He had the weirdest sensation that he was perfectly still, but the room was spinning around him faster and faster. He tried to get his legs underneath him, but suddenly the floor was rushing upward.

  Oh, no. Not again, was his only thought before darkness took him.

  Someone was shouting at him.

  Oww! His cheek stung, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

  Then his other cheek.

  “Garrick!” He heard a voice from a long way away. “Garrick! Wake up!”

  He tried to say he was finding it hard to sleep with all that racket going on, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Something shook him, and then there was another voice. A light flashed in his eyes, which was odd because he could have sworn they were closed. Then he was floating and wobbling and shaking. Somewhere he could hear a siren and there were pretty lights overhead, flashing through the thin skin of his eyelids as if they were flying past quickly. He tried to lift his arm to point to them, but someone pushed it firmly down by his side.

  “Keep still, or you’ll pull out the tubes,” a voice said.

  It sounded like Ronan Wolfe, but he must be dreaming. Still, it was a better dream than the Nimbus swallowing him whole again.

  “Mr. Garrick.” The damned voice was insistent. He tried to ignore it. Sleep was what he needed.

  “Mr. Garrick!”

  “Yeah wha . . .” His voice sounded slurred, even to his own ears, but at least he’d managed a sound.

  “We’ve got him.” The voice sounded relieved. “Talk to him. Pull him out of it.”

  A cool hand touched his arm. “Garrick?”

  Mona. He tried to say her name, but he could only manage the vowels and it came out as, “Oh-a.”

  “Yes, it’s me. Can you say my name?”

  With the greatest concentration he managed, “Ohna.”

  “Close enough. Do you know where you are?”

  He wanted to say, I’m where you are, but all he managed was “Ooo-ah.”

  “You’re in Blue Seven. The infirmary.”

  “Ah-ih.”

  “Infirmary. That’s right. I think he understands me, Ronan.”

  “Keep talking to him. Don’t let him slide away again.”

  “Garrick, Ronan’s here and I’m here. Ben and Cara are waiting outside. Can you say something—anything?”

  Because there were no hard consonants, he managed a creditable attempt at vocalizing, “Here.”

  “Yes, here.” He felt her lips on his forehead. “Stay with me, Garrick. Make an effort. Don’t die on me now.”

  Die? He wasn’t intending to die for goodness sake.

  “Not. Dying.” He managed to enunciate the two words, complete with their consonants.

  He heard her laugh and she kissed him again.

  It was a long day. It might even have been two days before Garrick was sitting up in bed, eyes open, talking normally.

  “You had us worried.” Ben was his first visitor.

  “Unnecessary effort. I’m fine.” He was less than fine. The need for detanine was already gnawing at his gut. “Who knows about this?”

  “No one. That’s why Mother Ramona called us rather than Dockside Medical.”

  “Good.” Garrick nodded. “It wouldn’t do to . . .”

  “Look weak?”

  “Quite.”

  “Then you need to kick the habit for good. You can’t go on like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Detanine.”

  He opened his mouth to say he wasn’t addicted and then shut it again.

  “You’ve had a wake-up call.”

  So many things tumbled through his mind. He could have died, and then what would happen to his lofty plans for Crossways? What would happen to Mona? She was tougher than she looked. No, she was as tough as she looked, and she looked plenty tough. Would Mona do it without him? Very likely. Did that mean he was surplus to requirements? Very likely. Hell, she wasn’t getting away with that. Was he going mad? He wasn’t processing this very well. Mona didn’t want him dead. Stay with me, Garrick—that’s what she’d said, and he’d heard the sincerity in her voice. The . . . love. He’d never expected to find love. It had crept up on him and now it was his. He didn’t want to leave Mona.

  He realized he was staring into space and managed a single nod in response to Benjamin’s statement. He’d had a wake-up call, yes.

  “Let Ronan help,” Ben said.

  “Cold turkey?”

  “I believe there are other alternatives.”

  “Are you suggesting Amfital? That’s the most addictive thing out there. It encourages you to sleep to death.”

  “But it clears everything else out of your system while it’s doing it. In the right quantity, under medical supervision . . . Talk to Ronan.”

  Half an hour later, Ben had left and Ronan was standing by his bedside.

  “Amfital?”

  Garrick watched Ronan carefully, trying to assess his reaction to the suggestion.

  “It’s possible,” Ronan said. “Though it may cure one addiction only to replace it with another.”

  “It’s faster than cold turkey, though, right?”

  “It’ll clear your system, but it won’t cure the psychological dependence. That’s yours to work through.”

  Garrick nodded. “Let’s do it.”

  Ben sought out Cara. She was sitting on a bench in the garden staring at nothing in particular. She looked up when she saw him approaching, but didn’t immediately leave. He took that as almost an invitation and sat on the far end of the bench. No touching.

  “How’s Garrick?” she asked.

  “I think he’s going to be all right. He’s opted for Amfital, and Ronan’s put him under now.”

  Cara shuddered. “I remember what it’s like.”

  “It’s three years ago.”

  “You don’t forget. I wouldn’t dare do it again. Once could easily form a habit if you let it. Will Garrick manage it successfully?”

  “I’d like to think Garrick’s learned his lesson from the detanine.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Any news from Nan yet?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Nothing positive. Neither the Trust nor Alphacorp nor Rodontee nor Ramsay-Shorre will commit without further talks. Eastin-Heigle is taking the threat seriously and has closed, but not destroyed the jump gates at all of its Mirrimar stations.”

  “Mirrimar-14. Takes me back.” He smiled.

  It was where they had met. So much had happened since then.

  “Unwise sex with a stranger. I remember.”

  “We weren’t strangers for long.”

  “No.” Her voice was quiet. Reflective.

  “We could—”

  “No.”

  He took a deep breath. “Are we over?”

  “I don’t know. I thought I knew you.”

  “You do. This is me. What you see is what you get.” He held his hands up, palms forward.

  “Is it? We were talking about having children together.”

  “I’d like that. You know I would.”

  “Would you use our child like you used Gen’s?”

  In the same situation, would he? He wanted to say no, but he owed her the truth. He didn’t know, so he couldn’t answer.

  She squeezed her lips together into a thin line. “Always the greater good, no matter what you have to sacrifice—or who.”

  “No, it’s—” He stopped. Was she right? What would he pay to save lives? His own life? Yes
, he’d put that on the line more than once, and not always for friends or even people he knew. Always working for the greater good.

  He let his arms drop. Maybe he was better off on his own.

  She went that peculiar kind of still which happened when she had someone in her head with a message she wasn’t expecting.

  “What is it?” Ben asked.

  “Ronan would like us both to go and see Kitty.”

  “Kitty? I thought he was dealing with Garrick. What’s the matter now?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  She stood up, and he fell into step beside her, walking without touching, their steps aligned.

  “Garrick?” Ben said on seeing Ronan.

  “He’s deeply asleep, locked into the Amfital. No need to worry about him for at least twenty-four hours. In the meantime, there’s Kitty.”

  “There’s some change?”

  “Change, but I’m not sure it’s progress. At this rate, we’re going to need a padded cell.”

  He led them through to Kitty’s room, still divided by the glass-steel wall. Syke was on this side of it, Kitty on the other. The glass was smeared with blood and Kitty’s fists were bruised and her knuckles bleeding. She was sitting on the floor, face pressed against the glass, hospital softsuit torn at the shoulder and hanging off to expose one breast.

  Syke was as pale as Ben had ever seen him. “She threw herself at me—sexually, I mean. Not that I could do anything with this partition in the way. Not that I would. She’s not herself.”

  Kitty looked up and focused on Syke as if there was no one else in the room. “Come on, Syke, you know you want me. Let me out of here and I’m yours. Anywhere, any way you want me. Unlock this cage, and we’ll go all night. All day and all night if you can keep it up.”

  Cara knelt so her face was on a level with Kitty’s. “He can’t let you out, Kitty. You tried to hurt people.”

  “I did?”

  “You did.”