Instead of the pounding headache, she felt a gentle, soothing warmth all over. As the cool air of the room breathed on her flesh, her skin began to reawaken.
“Come on.”
This time she heard Ben’s spoken words. Her ears were functioning again. Strong arms lifted her out of the remains of the glutinous mass and into the fresher. Her legs wouldn’t work; her brain didn’t own them, so Ben held her upright while the mist jets, soap, and clean warm water rinsed off the remains of the slippery Amfital. As feeling began to return, she took her own weight and stood upright by clinging to the handgrip and leaning against the warm massage wall. It responded by vibrating gently and shaping to her back, kneading and rippling across her muscles.
“Bend your head forward,” Ben said.
“Yes, Mom.” She wasn’t normally body-shy, but now she giggled to cover up her sudden embarrassment.
He washed the glop out of her hair, taking extra care with the bruise, though it wasn’t nearly so painful now, then steered her back into the center of the jets, the needles of water hammering life back into her.
“End,” he said, and the water stopped to be replaced by the warmth from all-round dryers. He slipped a thick hotel robe around her shoulders.
“Better?”
“Hmm. Much.” She pulled the belt tight.
He let her stand on her own while he dried himself and drew on loose trousers and a shirt. It was only then that she realized that he’d been naked, too. She almost said something, but he didn’t seem to treat it as a big deal, and he certainly hadn’t tried to make a move on her, so she ignored it.
“Was that really Amfital?”
“Yes. Good stuff.”
“Phew! No wonder it’s illegal. You could get lost inside it. I feel as though I’ve slept for days.”
“You have. Nearly two.”
“What?”
“Two days.”
She caught sight of herself in the mirror and saw a stranger. No long blonde hair; it was now a jaw-length bob and dark. She decided she didn’t much like it. Her jawline—hadn’t that been changed, too? If so, it was back to normal now. She ran her hands down her waist and across her belly, but found only her own shape beneath the robe.
Ben saw her puzzling over it. “Mother Ramona’s Formine injections should have lasted longer, but the Amfital purged it all from your system. I prefer you with your own shape.”
“I can’t remember much.”
She dressed quickly, dumping Mother Ramona’s tawny dress in favor of clean clothes that Ben had brought for her.
“You’ve got good taste.” She checked out the outfit in the long mirror. A plain, close-fitting top and pants, with a stylish waist-length jacket, all in black.
“Serena used to say if you can’t make up your mind about color, just go for black and expensive.”
“How expensive? I seem to recall that I’m short of credits.”
“You can pay me back out of your first salary. Crowder’s keen. He says if you’re still a Psi-1 after all that, you’ve got the job.”
“If I’m still a Psi-1?” The realization hit her like a brick. Was she? Was she still able to broadcast at all? Head injuries could have peculiar effects. Who could she contact to prove she still had what it took to be a Psi-1?
Jussaro?
It was risky, but she had to know. If she could get through to him, she could get through to anyone.
She accessed her implant and aimed a thought at him. It felt as if she was using muscles that had atrophied. Her head began to ache, and she closed her eyes and held onto Ben for stability while she concentrated.
*Jussaro, it’s me.*
She got a flicker of recognition, pleasure, then consternation.
*Carlinni! Where are you? Are you in trouble? You are!*
*Sorry, can’t say where. I’m all right. What kind of trouble am I in?*
*They found a corpse and they’re trying to pin it on you. A businessman called Rosen—from Alphacorp. In an access shaft with his throat cut.*
Blood pounded in her ears, and her scalp crawled. A murder charge was the last thing she wanted on top of everything else.
*Throat cut? I had a run in with someone. Don’t know his name, but I didn’t kill him. Do you believe me?*
She’d been out of it for too long, but she had quite clear memories of the fight with the graysuit. She’d not killed him. She fought down guilt. It wasn’t hers.
*I do.* The emphasis was on the I, but probably meant that she was number one on the list of suspects.
*Look after yourself, Jussaro. Don’t get involved in my affairs. Don’t even say you’ve heard from me.*
*I know when to keep my mouth shut. Good luck, Carlinni.*
The whole exchange had taken only a few seconds. Cara found that she was panting and feeling queasy, but at least her Psi-1 status wasn’t impaired, even if she needed to rebuild her strength.
She looked up at Ben. “Good news and bad news. I’m still a Psi-1, but they’ve found the graysuit’s body, and I’m the chief suspect.”
“You said you left him unconscious.”
“I certainly didn’t cut his throat.”
He looked at her. “You had a concussion. You might have forgotten.”
“Forget cutting someone’s throat? I don’t think so—besides, I wasn’t carrying a knife, and I do remember checking his breathing and leaving him alive.”
“They’re fitting you up, and he was obviously expendable. You’re playing a game with a dangerous bunch. They must want you pretty badly. What did you do?”
She shook her head to clear the pounding behind her eyes. If they could kill the graysuit, what could they do to her? Ari hadn’t been joking when he told her that Craike handled severances. Head from body, limb from limb; it would be nothing for Craike’s twisted little mind. He probably enjoyed it.
She needed to get clear. Briefly, she contemplated telling Ben. Her head started to ache. How could she keep Ari off her back permanently? Damn, the only way was to keep moving. Try to stay one step ahead.
“You can trust me, you know,” Ben said.
She looked at him without saying anything. She thought he was probably right. “What if you can’t trust me?” The words were out before she could bite them back.
“I think I can.”
She wanted to burst into tears; to run from him screaming, You can’t, but instead all she did was nod. Was that a promise? “Maybe.”
“And now, Mrs. Benjamin, this is yours.” He handed her a document.
“What is it?”
“Your payroll registration as Serena Benjamin, but you can use Cara unofficially. I slipped it in as a middle name. Serena’s middle name is Catherine.”
“It wasn’t just a dream, then?” she asked. “I did come in as Mrs. Benjamin.”
“It’s about time Serena started to earn that divorce settlement.”
“I remember the white-faced exotic, what was her name?”
“Mother Ramona.”
“She could have had us killed, couldn’t she?”
“Her word’s good. She stays bought.”
Cara’s legs still felt like jelly. She sat down on the edge of the bed. “Knowing who to trust is a good gift.”
Ben picked up the start-card for the hoverpod. “I’ve got business. Stay here, rest, watch some holos, take it easy. I’ll pick you up at twelve tomorrow. Be ready.”
• • •
Victor Lorient towered over his kneeling wife in the artificial daylight from the overhead in their temporary home on Chenon, a utilitarian box in the center of the settler compound, comfortable enough, but soulless.
“When we get to Olyanda, I want a home made of wood,” she said through a mouthful of pins. “One with unnecessary nooks and a real fireplace with a stone hearth.”
She pinched in the slack on his trouser seam between thumb and forefinger and pinned it carefully.
Victor smiled at the top of her head. How many times had they
had this conversation?
“I hate Chenon,” she said. “Pink grass, long days and even longer nights.”
“I know. Me, too.”
“Nothing they can do in terms of lighting helps my body clock.” She sighed and fiddled with the pins jabbed into a pincushion strapped around her wrist. “My circadian rhythms are still tied to Earth.”
It was late morning according to the ticking clock on the wall. They’d gone to sleep in bright sunlight and woken to dusk.
“Chenon itself is bad enough, but . . .” Victor shuddered. “Psi-techs, I thought I’d come to terms with the idea of relying on them, but I’m finding it hard.”
“Turn around,” she said, tapping his buttock. “There, I’ve taken the pants in a little at the waist as well. How does that feel?”
“Better. You’re good at this.”
“I can hardly urge everyone to relearn domestic skills if I don’t lead by example, though I’ve got as many men as women in the sewing classes. You should join us sometime. I never get to see enough of you.”
She ran her hand down his thigh. Was that just to smooth the seam or was it an invitation? She’d not shown much interest in sex since they arrived. He felt his balls tighten and his groin grow warm.
“Maybe you’ve got to bend a little,” she said and moved her hand away as if she knew his thoughts.
He bent forward to cover the growing tightness.
She laughed. “No, not like that. You know I meant your principles about psi-techs. Stand up straight.” She made another adjustment to the outer seam of the trousers. “Some of them seem genuinely keen to help us.”
“That’s the trouble with psi-techs. Whatever they seem to be, they are what they are. Don’t be taken in by them. We mustn’t waver. We have the opportunity to create a new world. We’ve come so far. We can’t fall at the last hurdle.”
“I’m not taken in. You know how I feel, but I just think that this project is important enough to swallow our principles and get through the first year as well as we can. It’s difficult here, being in the compound and all, but I’m sure we’ll be able to keep physical contact with them to a minimum on Olyanda, and once the year’s over, we’ll be free of them forever.”
She prodded Victor again, and he turned sideways to let her check the fit over his hip. She didn’t need to make clothes yet. She could have insisted that he buy standard-issue, but once they were on Olyanda, there would be no handy shops or a community manufactory.
They were all learning skills lost centuries ago: how to spin and weave, to plant and grow and to prepare and cook raw food. How to tend and breed livestock for transport, flesh, hides, and fleece. It would be a whole new way of life on Olyanda, a reawakening.
“Take a look in the mirror. How’s the fit?”
“Good. No, it’s more than good, it’s great. I’m proud of you.”
“Glad you said that. Who else is going to make your trousers? You’re a visionary, Victor. The stuff great leaders are made of. You tell us how it will be, but it’s up to the rest of us to make it happen.” She levered herself to her feet, the top of her head barely coming up to his collar bone. “But we need the psi-techs. Without them, we’ll never get to Olyanda. We can’t cross the Folds alone.” She reached up and cradled the side of his face in her hand. “I can accept them if you can. I can swallow my principles if I have to.”
Victor looked thoughtful, “Our principles are all we have in this crazy world, but you’re right, of course.” He brushed his lips against the top of her head. “We should suffer the psi-techs in silence. It’s only for a year. Jack Mario told me yesterday that I was letting it get to me. Do you think I am?”
“You are the one, out of all of us, who keeps our belief secure. You should hold firm. Let the rest of us carry the burden.”
“You’re my rock. Without you, I’d crumble to dust.”
“I don’t think so.” She looked up.
Oh, gods, she could melt him with one of those looks. He pulled her to him, stroked her mouse-brown hair, and felt himself harden against her belly. After twenty years of marriage, she still had the power to make him want to lay her down and tear off all her clothes.
“You’re a wonderful woman, Mrs. Lorient. How could we fail? And I admit that working with psi-techs for a year is a small price to pay for the freedom we’ll gain. I know that. I have a hard time dealing with it sometimes, but I do know.”
“You’ll do the right thing, you always do. Now take off those trousers so I can stitch the seams.”
“Is that the only reason?”
She brushed her hand against his cock and he twitched. “Maybe not. We’ve got an hour before Danny comes back.”
He didn’t need a second invitation.
She gathered up the discarded trousers and laid them on her sewing table. By the time she turned round again he’d taken off his shorts, too.
“Oh, my, Mr. Lorient!” She laughed softly and dropped to her knees, grasping his hips and taking his erection into her mouth.
“Ahh!” he gasped and pulled back. “Give me strength, woman. You want me to lose it?”
She pulled him down onto the floor, and he slipped his hand under her skirt finding nothing but bare legs and a warm inviting wetness between them.
“You planned this all along.” He nuzzled her neck and breathed in the scent of her shampoo.
“How could I waste the opportunity? Oh!”
She stopped trying to speak and writhed against him as his fingers found her bud. She pulled him between her legs, her hands kneading his butt cheeks. Rational thought deserted him as he slid inside her.
By the time they lay spent on the floor, Victor was feeling much more optimistic about the next few weeks on Chenon and the year ahead on Olyanda.
“I love you, Rena Lorient.”
She straightened her skirt. “You’re not so bad, yourself.”
He kissed her on the cheek and stood up, offering her his hand to pull her to her feet.
“Where are my . . . ? Oh, there.” He pulled on his shorts and trousers and tucked himself in again. “And you’re right, it’s my job to lead the way. I’ll be first on the list for medical checks tomorrow. We’ll go together, you, me, and Danny.”
Rena shivered.
“What’s that? Still nervous about cryo?”
“I’m worried for Danny. I know it’s supposed to be safer than eating seafood and that there’s no alternative, but I don’t have to like the idea of being frozen and packed into a tube for nine months.”
“Danny will be fine.”
“He’s not strong.”
“You cosset him too much.”
“He’s my son.”
“He’s mine, too.”
“Did you want me, Mom?” Danny shambled into the room. His moon-round face split into a grin.
Victor looked at Rena and they shared a brief conspiratorial look. Good thing Danny hadn’t come back a few minutes earlier.
“No, darling, why?”
“I thought I heard Dad say my name.”
“You’ve got good ears, son,” Victor said.
“Can I bake cookies?” Danny made one of his sideways subject leaps.
“If you want to. Can you manage on your own?” Rena asked.
“I wrote all the instructions in my notebook.”
“Good boy. Call me if you get stuck with anything.”
Weak on measurable intellectual ability, but strong on love and affection, Danny’s gentle simplicity touched everyone around him. It was as if he’d been imbued with the light. Anyone he came into contact with felt better for the experience. Neither Victor nor Rena could ever bring themselves to discipline the boy. It would be like kicking a puppy. Luckily, disobedience wasn’t in Danny’s nature.
“Bake an extra big cookie for me, will you?” Victor asked as Danny headed for the kitchen.
“I’ll write Dad on it with frosting.”
Rena smiled and sighed as Danny left. “Lord, I do love t
hat boy.”
She turned to her treadle-operated sewing machine and picked up the handmade trousers.
Once on Olyanda there would be no power drives for sewing machines. There wouldn’t even be primitive electricity. A foot-operated machine like this would be a luxury. Needle and thread might be all that was available, and lamp- or candlelight would have to suffice. And when all the needles were broken, they would have to make more. It was easy to say, but soon they’d have to live by those words.
Victor shoved his feet into his boots and then realized Rena’s silence was a little too long for comfort. “Are you worrying again?” He looked up and frowned. “You’ve got that expression on your face.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . Only . . . sometimes . . . I wonder . . . how I’ll feel when the tech teams leave and we’re truly alone? What if we have to sit by and watch Danny die for lack of comprehensive medical facilities?” She shuddered. “What will it be like to see women old at forty from childbearing and hard labor? Are we going back into the dark ages or forward into the light?”
“It’s natural. We’re all worried about small things, but it’s the greatness of the plan that’ll carry us through.” Victor took the cloth from her grasp and held her hands.
“We’ve come so far,” he said. “Ten thousand of us already here on Chenon. Ten thousand who all believe so strongly that what science has done to the human race is wicked. And thirty thousand more will follow on the second ark. We have a chance now to prove what we know to be true. We can build a new Earth on Olyanda. Grow a new, strong race from the last survivors of the old.”
“I know. I do believe. I really do.”
“You don’t have to prove it to me. I’ll speak to the assembly tomorrow. Come down with me. Sit on the podium.” He kept his voice gentle and persuasive. “Bring Danny. Let’s be there together.”
• • •
As they drove in through the gates into the Trust’s massive Colony Operations compound, Cara craned her head to take it all in. Accommodation blocks, warehouses, hangars for shuttles. In the far distance a control tower marked the edge of a landing pad. Dominating the compound was the main HQ building, slab-sided and functional.
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