Crossways

by Jacey Bedford

  Gen growled in frustration and Max swept her up and held her tight. “Do you need me?” he asked over her shoulder.

  Cara shook her head. “We’ve got accurate coordinates and not enough crew space. We can’t take more than four and we need someone to fly Solar Wind home—if it is Solar Wind and if she’s in one piece.”

  *Let me,* Kitty Keely chimed in.

  *Yan?* Cara checked.

  *She’s good.*

  *Okay, Kitty. You’re in.*

  Cara raced for the entrance and grabbed the nearest tub with Ronan and Kitty close behind. The ten-minute journey to the dock seemed interminable. Cara stared at Kitty, wondering if she exhibited the same puffy red eyes. What was her dead friend’s name? Oh, yes.

  “Sorry to hear about Wes, Kitty. I understand you and he were—”

  Kitty nodded. “Just friends, at least that’s all we’d got around to. It might have been more, given time. He was very sweet. Volunteered at a community farm.”

  “Farm?”

  “Surprised me, too. Station kids can go there to pet baby animals. I . . . I’ve volunteered in his place.” She shrugged. “Yeah, I know, not like me at all, is it?” She dropped her eyes to her hands, splayed over her knees. “I just felt as though I should . . . that he might have liked it.”

  “Doing the things now that we should have willingly done when they were alive is like plugging a hole after the water’s drained.”

  “Oh, you too?”

  Cara nodded. “’Fraid so.”

  Kitty cleared her throat. “I hope Ben’s alive, but . . . one way or the other . . . I hope it’s him out there.”

  “Thanks.”

  The tub rattled to a halt and Kitty leaped out and through the open doors of Port 22 with a brief wave to Mother Ramona’s guard—twice as many of them as there had been previously—beating Cara to the dock by half a stride.

  Yan was already powering up Ben’s Dixie Flyer and filing an emergency flight plan.

  *Crossways Control, do we have clearance?* Cara asked as they settled into the Dixie and clipped the harnesses. Yan and Cara in the pilot and copilot seats, Kitty and Ronan in the bucket seats behind.

  *Clear to go. All other traffic’s on lockdown,* Mother Ramona answered through her Telepath, Ully.

  Kitty dogged the hatch as Yan primed the drive. The air lock cycled and the outer jaws opened.

  *I’m here in flight control,* Mother Ramona said. *Ask for whatever you need, it’s yours.*

  *Thanks.* Mother Ramona couldn’t fail to be aware of the wave of gratitude Cara emitted.

  *That’s all right,* she said. *If that’s Ben in there, bring him home.*

  *Will do.* Or die trying, Cara thought.

  Under Yan’s competent handling the Dixie rose on antigravs and shot out of the air lock into space.

  They had to take turns suiting up because of restricted space in a cabin ideally meant to accommodate only two, but by the time the unidentified ship was in visual range they were all ready.

  “Oh, shit!” Yan said from the pilot’s seat.

  “What’s the matter? Is it Solar Wind?” Cara had a lump in her throat big enough to choke on.

  “Yes, it is.”

  She didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified. It was Solar Wind, but she still couldn’t raise Ben. She’d been maintaining a search for his mental presence all this time.

  “But she’s spinning end over end,” Yan said. “Ass over tip, and there’s some yaw in there as well. We can match velocity, but to lock on we’ll have to match her spin as well.”

  “Can we do it?” Ronan asked.

  “No,” Kitty said.

  “Yes,” Yan said.

  “We’ve got to.” Cara gripped the arms of her couch.

  *Crossways Control,* Cara broadcast. *It is the Solar Wind. Repeat it is the Solar Wind. Hold your missiles.*

  *Copy that,* Mother Ramona said. *I’m standing over my guys. You’ll have all the time we can give you, but I can’t risk a collision with the station.*

  *Understood.*

  “What next?” Cara asked Yan.

  “She’s doing one full rotation every thirty-four seconds, left wing down. If we match velocity and come at her from above we can glom onto the upper hull plating toward the tail with a mag lock and use the Dixie’s thrusters to try and slow the spin. Just a few degrees in any direction will deflect her away from a direct hit on Crossways and buy us some time.”

  Cara relayed that to Crossways Control.

  *Is that the best you can come up with?* Mother Ramona asked.

  Cara looked around the cabin, Yan nodded and a second or two later, Kitty agreed. Ronan shrugged. “If Yan says so, it’s all right by me.”

  *It’s the best we can hope for,* Cara told Mother Ramona.

  *Then I’m going to say a very loud prayer on your behalf.*

  *Thanks. I think.*

  Cara relinquished her place on the copilot’s couch to make way for Kitty, who would be much more useful at the controls. She settled into the bucket seat beside Ronan.

  “Do you think—” she began.

  “I’m trying not to think,” Ronan said. “If I think, I’ll pee in this beautifully clean space suit, and I’m not plumbed in.”

  “Helmets,” Yan said. “I’ll get her as close to the access hatch as I can, but this isn’t an exact science. Strap in if you haven’t already. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

  Cara pulled on the helm and locked it down tight, suddenly feeling very alone. Her HUD showed the suit was functioning normally and she tried to breathe evenly.

  “Check audio,” Yan said.

  “Check.”

  “Check.”

  “Check,” they all responded.

  “Here we go.”

  The Dixie was flying straight and level on the same trajectory as the freewheeling Solar Wind. In space terms they were kissing close, but that still meant they had a kilometer between them. Yan gradually closed the distance. Nine hundred meters, eight hundred.

  Kitty called the numbers, but kept her hands away from the controls. At four hundred meters her fingers twitched.

  “Not yet,” Yan said.

  Three hundred.

  Two hundred.

  One hundred.

  Yan let the Dixie drop back just behind the Solar Wind’s tail, watching the tail come up beneath them, flip over the top and then see the belly fall away, followed by the nose, repeating the pattern.

  From this angle she looked like a diving dolphin, or maybe a humpback whale.

  “On the next rotation, Kitty,” Yan said. “Get ready to match thrust. Left wing down.”

  “Ready.” Kitty took the thruster control.

  “Hold tight.”

  As the Solar Wind’s nose dipped and the tail started to come up, Kitty hit the aft thrusters and Yan hit the short-burn maneuvering ones. The Dixie dived after the Solar Wind, belly to back.

  Cara felt rather than heard the scrape of ceramic on metal, and a shielding plate bounced off the forward screen. A judder strong enough to rattle her teeth all but shook her out of her seat, saved only by her harness. Then they were tumbling end over end with Solar Wind.

  “Kitty, hit forward thrusters.” Yan ran his hands over the controls in a complex dance until the speed of their tumble slowed and evened out. “Course correct.”

  “Done.” Kitty’s voice sounded strange over the suit comms and Cara realized she was holding in hysterical laughter.

  *All right, Kitty?* Cara asked.

  *I am now.*

  “We’re a bit further aft than I’d hoped,” Yan said. “You’ve got a bit of a trek to the emergency hatch.”

  “Not a problem,” Cara said, already on her feet. “I’ve got clamps. I’ll string a line to the hatch.”
/>
  The Dixie’s air lock was so small that it would only take one fully suited human at a time, even though two could squeeze in under normal circumstances. Cara secured her line as the air cycled and hefted the magnetic clamps which magically bled weight as she floated free of the Dixie’s half gravity. She secured the first clamp to the Solar Wind’s hull and clipped the line to it, then the second, and the third until she worked her way toward the emergency hatch. By this time Kitty and Ronan were close behind her. They’d have to go through this hatch one at a time, too, and though she wanted to push in front, it made sense to send the pilot in first and the medic in second.

  As it turned out it was Ronan who pushed in front and dropped feet first into the tubular air lock.

  Heart thumping, she watched the lock cycle.

  *Is he there? Is Ben there?*

  *He is.*

  Kitty relinquished her place to Cara as the air lock cycled again.

  *Is he . . . ?*

  *Alive. Just barely.*

  Cara’s knees gave way as gravity and emotion hit her all at once and she all but fell out of the air lock and scrambled for the companionway to the flight deck.

  She unclipped her helmet and let it fall to the floor. “Ben!”

  Ronan had unclipped his own helmet and torn off his gloves. He’d stretched Ben out on the deck plating and strapped an oxygen mask to his face. Cara could see the blue tinge to Ben’s lips through it, accentuating the gray pallor that had bleached the health out of his brown skin.

  *Ben!* she tried.

  “Save it, Cara, he’s totally out of it.” Ronan administered a shot and then another. “Get some blankets. I don’t want to move him.”

  Cara could feel Ronan’s talent for healing pouring energy into Ben. As she came back from the nearest cabin with an airquilt she heard Ronan saying to Kitty, “Is this thing flyable, and if so how quickly can you get us back to Crossways?”

  “Yes, and thirty minutes. Whether we’ll be able to dock is another matter altogether. I don’t know if there’s any external damage.”

  “Docking clamp four has sustained minor damage,” the ship cut in.

  “Where were you when he needed you?” Cara asked.

  “Offline as ordered.”

  “Damn and double damn. Just get us home.” Cara wasn’t sure whether she said it to the ship or to Kitty, but she sank down on the floor beside Ben and Ronan and wondered whether Mother Ramona’s prayers might be effective, but decided Ben’s best chance lay with Ronan.

  She connected with him. *Need some extra whammy?*

  *I’ll take anything I can get right now.*

  She felt the clunk as the Dixie disengaged and saw that Kitty was taking care of business, flight-wise.

  *Coming in,* she flashed to Mother Ramona.

  *Have a medical team standing by for immediate transfer to Dockside Medical,* Ronan said. *It looks like Ben’s been trying to chew on hard vacuum.*

  Cara looked at him sharply. *How did that happen?*

  Ronan shrugged. *If we get him through this, we can ask him.*

  Ben wasn’t sure how long he’d been away.

  There was a point when he felt as though he’d walked into a crowded room and everyone had stopped talking at once, then resumed in hushed tones.

  The next time he walked into the room everyone was leaning at an odd angle and he realized that he was horizontal.

  He recognized Ronan first and then Cara’s face swam into view. She looked puzzled. Perhaps she was trying to contact him mind-to-mind. Good luck with that.

  He tried to make his mouth work to tell her about his implant, or lack of it, but neither his tongue nor his throat would obey him.

  “Ben.” She spoke out loud.

  He tried to twitch his lips into a smile. Maybe he managed it. Maybe he didn’t, but she smiled at him anyway.

  “Relax, we’ve got you.”

  Maybe he should do as he was told for once.

  For the first twenty-four hours in the High Dependency Unit Cara didn’t move from the chair outside Ben’s door except to stand and look through the clear panel and to pace up and down in short, tight turns to get the blood flowing in her legs again.

  “He’s strong,” Ronan told her. “If anyone can pull through, it’s Ben.”

  But despite his words, Ronan spent a lot of time in there pouring as much healing energy as he could spare in Ben’s direction.

  What had happened? Ben had been away for five days from her perspective, but how long had it been for him? His hair had been just starting to grow again after the all-over shave to change his appearance before tackling Crowder—she counted back—less than sixty days ago. Now it was back to being long and bound into a tight plait, long enough to dangle down to his shoulder blades. It looked like it did when they first met. How had that happened?

  It seemed such a small thing to focus on when he was so sick, but it was a puzzle her mind couldn’t leave alone.

  First Gen and Max came and sat with her. Then it was Wenna’s turn. While Wenna was still there, Serafin arrived in a float chair, guided by a pretty nurse who fussed about him in a way he seemed to like.

  *Hey, there has to be some compensation for being in this place for so long,* he said. *She may be young enough to be my granddaughter, but a man can appreciate a good-looking woman, can’t he?*

  Wenna and Serafin left together and when Archie Tatum arrived it became obvious that they’d set up a rota to keep her company. Kitty, Yan, even Tengue, who said he was just passing through on his way from visiting Fowler. Fowler sent her best regards to the worst gurney driver in the system.

  Some time in the middle of the night it was Jussaro’s turn.

  “Hey, Carlinni.” He sat down next to her.

  “Hey, yourself.”

  “How is he?”

  “Still too early to tell, but he’s hanging in there.”

  “You know I’m going to have to report this to Crowder, right?”

  “I know. Maybe you could delay a short while. Mother Ramona’s been trying to get him to release Nan and Ricky.”

  “Maybe I could, at least until Ben’s out of danger.”

  “Thanks.” She covered Jussaro’s hand with her own. “You’re a pal.”

  The next day she was allowed to sit in with Ben as his vital signs had stabilized. He still hadn’t spoken. Cara hadn’t been able to get a flicker out of him mind-to-mind, and a machine was breathing for him. A temporary necessity, Ronan assured her, but it was scary as hell.

  The rota of visiting psi-techs continued. Jussaro came again in the middle of the afternoon. “I still haven’t reported, but I’m going to have to do it now.”

  “I know. Thanks for being straight with me.”

  “Do you want to ghost in on the link?”

  “If you think you can keep me hidden.”

  Jussaro nodded.

  “Let’s do it, then.”

  She connected to Jussaro with the lightest of touches and felt him reach out and find Leyburn, Crowder’s Telepath.

  *Tell Mr. Crowder that my earlier report was a bit hasty,* Jussaro said. *Ben Benjamin is not dead after all.*

  *Mr. Crowder knows that already,* Leyburn said. *He wants to know why you didn’t tell him right away.*

  Cara felt a cold chill between her shoulder blades that had nothing to do with the ambient temperature of the station air. Did that mean Crowder had another informer planted in the Free Company? Or did it mean he had someone on Crossways who’d heard the news and reported back?

  *Mr. Crowder asks me to remind you that he has options where you are concerned,* Leyburn said.

  She felt Jussaro’s level of anxiety rise.

  *Tell Mr. Crowder that until this morning Benjamin didn’t look likely to pull through,* Jussaro said. *He’s still very sick, but
he’s stronger now.*

  *He says that wasn’t your call to make. Next time anything happens he wants to hear about it immediately.*

  *Of course.*

  *See that you remember.*

  *How could I forget?*

  Cara felt Leyburn disconnect.

  “Damn!” Jussaro leaned back against the wall.

  “We’ve got a leak,” Cara said.

  Jussaro nodded. “Another leak—and it’s not me.”

  The following day Cara stood back with Ronan, watching anxiously as a med-tech took out the tubes connecting Ben to the machine that had been breathing for him. After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only a few seconds, Ben’s chest began to rise and fall on its own.

  “I told you it would be all right,” Ronan said, but his voice trembled with relief.

  “You could have warned me . . .” Cara said. “You could have said how bad it was.”

  “Then there would have been two of us sick with apprehension.” Ronan slumped into a chair by the bedside, his face as pale as Ben’s was bloodless.

  “I had a right to know.”

  “Yes, you did. I . . . I’m sorry. I just couldn’t . . .” He scrubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Ben’s my friend, too, you know, not just my patient.”

  “Oh, gods, Ronan. You’re exhausted. You’ve poured so much energy into him, you don’t have enough to keep yourself upright. Get some rest.”

  “I’m all right. I’ll just close my eyes here for a moment . . .”

  In an instant he was deeply asleep. Cara found a spare blanket in a cupboard and draped it over him, then perched on the remaining chair.

  It broke her apart to see Ben semi-reclined on the bed, so still. His left arm was a mottled blue-black bruise, darkening his brown skin alarmingly from fingertips to elbow, or at least what could be seen of his arm beneath the protective sheath that held the wrist flexed slightly inward.

  She stared at him, wondering exactly what it was that Ronan did to transfer healing energy. She’d never shown any aptitude for healing, but she’d felt the flow when Ronan had drawn it from her. Maybe she could . . .

  Ben’s eyes flicked open, slightly unfocused.