“Whatever it is, they seem to be sure it’ll work this time. God knows what demands they’ll make on the Federation.”
(And God knows what’ll happen to us. That’s the worst part, ain’t it? You know that if I can read your secret, so can Rubiy. Once he comes back your life isn’t worth a damn, if you can’t stop his plans first; maybe all our lives—)
“Stop it, for God’s sake!” For a minute I thought he was going to hit me. “I’m sorry”—he took a deep breath—“but don’t answer questions for me before you even ask them!”
I almost laughed. “Bet you never figured you’d be saying that to me.” And I realized how much I’d begun to depend on my Gift; as if I’d grown another eye to see with, another ear.
Half a grin grew on his face. He fumbled for another camph and put it in his mouth. “That’s for damn sure. My star pupil.…” His voice trailed. He handed me another camph.
I took the camph, balancing it between my fingers. Then I said, as gently as I knew how, “Dere, Rubiy’s already back.”
He froze. “When? How long?”
“Since last night.”
“Oh, God…” he said. Suddenly his eyes unfocused; I felt circuits opening and closing in his brain, but what happened then was nothing my own mind could understand. He let out a cry, like something had torn him apart inside.
I jerked back, not knowing what was happening to him. “Dere?” I put out my hand, brushing his arm. “What’s wrong?”
He shuddered; I pulled my hand away. He wiped his mouth. “I … I had a sending.”
A sending … precognition. I’d almost forgotten that he was anything besides a telepath. “About what?” His mind was jumbled with shock, I couldn’t read him.
“About death. My death. Rubiy…” His voice was weak and stumbling. “It’s too late.”
“No, it ain’t. You’re just scared it will be. Precognition is the wild card talent, you said it yourself.”
But he shook his head, glaring his anger at me. “Not this time. It’s in every image. Every one. And so is Rubiy. And so are you.…”
“Me?” I pushed up on my knees. “I ain’t done nothing to you. I ain’t going to, I swear.” (I swear it!)
He climbed to his feet, every movement belonging to a dead man. “I know. I’m sorry,” he said thickly. “I need some time alone now.” He stumbled on up the hill, not looking back. His flickering shadow trailed him like the darkness in his mind.
I sat where I was, alone inside my own darkness, until the sky started to darken to match it. I got up then, stiff and numb, and started back down the hill alone.
TWELVE
(HELLO, CAT.)
The sudden voice inside my head turned me around on the slope. I lost my balance and someone’s hands caught me from behind, steadying me. Rubiy’s.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone. You’re hardly steady on your feet.” Rubiy smiled, but only with his mouth. I hadn’t forgotten that smile, or anything about his face. I looked into his ice-green eyes, and saw the bottomless green of a crevasse: shining, shadowy, deadly. His hands were still on my shoulders, holding me like the talons of a hunting bird would hold some poor squirming thing it had trapped in the night. I knew the feel of hands like that.… I jerked loose with all my strength, staggering back.
“Did I frighten you?” He held out his empty hands to me, amused. He wasn’t dressed for a walk outside, but he didn’t seem to feel the cold.
I swallowed. “Takes—more’n a ‘hello’ to do that.” The shock had knocked everything I’d been thinking a minute ago out of my head; I was glad. “I wasn’t alone. I was with Cortelyou.”
“I know,” he said.
I didn’t flinch. I kept my mind woven tight, with just enough ends dangling loose to make it seem like I wasn’t trying to hide something. “He’s still up there.” I pointed with my chin. “I got tired,” answering him before he asked.
He liked that; his face almost looked human. “You’re old friends, I take it.” There was something lying between the words that I didn’t like.
“Yeah. I guess so.” I rubbed my neck.
“I was pleased to learn that you were strong enough to go walking. Your recovery strengthens my trust in Siebeling and his skills.”
“Yeah, he’s all heart.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem surprised to see me.”
I shrugged. “Should I be?” I showed him that I knew how he’d tried the doors of my mind last night—and set off alarms.
He played with a smile again. “The telepath you were when I last saw you wouldn’t have known. But I’m told the Hydrans did what those fools on Ardattee couldn’t do for you. You’re good; Galiess was right. You’re even better than Galiess, in fact.… How good are you, now?” He threw it at me like a challenge, sparking with excitement, eagerness, hope—a dark glint of envy—dying to take my measure. That was why he was out here, why we were here alone.
I shied back from the first real contact I’d had with his emotions, the first proof that he even had any. “I—dunno. Good enough, I guess.” It sounded dumb and sullen. I pushed my hands into my pockets and shifted my weight from foot to foot. My mind left his challenge lying in the air between us.
(Didn’t I tell you so?) his mind said. He smoothed a strand of dark hair the wind had loosened. “False modesty doesn’t appeal to me. But loyalty does. After the ordeal you went through, I would imagine you’re ready to do anything you have to to help us take control of Federation Mining.”
I nodded. “You made sure of that,” I said, taking a chance.
He shrugged, an easy twitch of his shoulders. “Siebeling made sure of that—in his clumsy, backhanded way. I merely made use of an opportunity.” His thoughts were as cold as his eyes.
And a warm body. My hands flexed inside my gloves. “So now I have something you can use. Why am I so important. What’s the plan?” I had to ask it, not really expecting him to answer.
But he said, “Until now we’ve been missing the key to get us into the mines compound. We’d been able to come this far, to reach the world and establish ourselves in the very town. But the identity screens at the mines are too rigid, and the security checks on their actual personnel are too complete. We couldn’t get any further. We can’t walk in, and we can’t teleport in—you can’t teleport to a place you’ve never been.” The muscles in his cheek tightened with his jaw; for a second I felt his long months of frustration. “But you have been inside, now, thanks to Contract Labor. So we are able to manipulate them from a direction they never anticipated.”
(Up through the sewer,) I thought. I realized he still hadn’t answered my question.
(Exactly.) Cool laughter slipped into my mind.
“But I can’t teleport—I can’t get back into the mines. So what good’s that gonna do you?” I felt a kind of relief as I said it, because I didn’t see how—
My hand jerked out of my pocket with a sudden twist; but I hadn’t done it, and he hadn’t touched me.… Telekinesis. He had; my wrist hung in front of my eyes, showing me the bond tag. “You can go back anytime you want to.”
I was still a bondie. All I had to do was let someone know it. “But…” fighting to keep control of my voice, “but, I mean, so I’m back inside. I can’t get out again. You’re still outside. What good’s that gonna do!”
(Cat.) His hand reached out and stroked my arm. His mind made soothing waves, but that didn’t ease anything. And then I felt another whisper of real emotion, an echo of the images he’d shown me back in Quarro, telling me, (He understood, I could trust him, he’d been where I’d been, he knew what I’d been through. We were the same.…) “It isn’t forever. Only a day or so. That’s all I’ll need, all I want from you. And then you’ll be free again, and the Federation will be in our hands—” The energy of his vision crackled between us. “You can make a joining; you’ve made one before.” It wasn’t really a question; he knew about the Hydrans. He felt me acknowledge it, and then at las
t he began to show me his plan:
I was going to turn myself in, and they’d take me back to the mines. Once I was there Rubiy would make a joining with me, and use me as a fix to teleport himself into the mines. He knew the layout and he’d sabotage the ventilating system with gas, leaving them all unconscious, and the mines wide open for the rest of his psions to come in and take it over. Once they were in charge of the mines compound, they’d also be in control of the energy shield that protected Cinder from any direct attack as well as from radiation—an invisible wall of electromagnetic force out in space around us. And then we’d be in the control seat, holding the Federation’s most important resource for ransom. The combines who’d hired him to do this, to attack the FTA at its heart, thought he was doing it for them; but they were wrong.…
His mind shut me out again, as if suddenly he felt like he’d shown me enough, or maybe too much.
I shook my head. “It—all sounds so easy.” So easy it scared me.
“It is; now that we have you.”
“I thought … I heard it ain’t that easy to make a joining—not for humans.”
“Not for the average human psion. We are not average, you and I. You had no trouble joining with the Hydrans.”
“I didn’t even have a choice, with them. But I thought there had to be a—a need.”
“I have a need—the need to see this plan work! And when the time comes, you’ll find you have enough need to see the mines under our thumb.…” The promise in his voice made me feel worse than I already did.
“Why do we have to make a joining at all? Why can’t I do what you want, there?”
“You haven’t the skills, and you won’t have the equipment. Besides, it may be—difficult for you to move freely.” And besides, he wanted the triumph to be his. His eyes were alive now, searching my face, measuring my reaction. “Do your own part willingly and well, and I’ll reward you. Believe me, this is only the beginning. You’ve had nothing all your life; now you’ll have everything—”
Power sang through me—his power, my power, shared power. (All this could be mine.) It blazed up like wildfire, made me drunk, gave me a rush … and left me empty, as suddenly as it had come. (If you are loyal.) Rubiy left the words branded on my mind.
I shook my head, dazed, when I should have been nodding. And I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about Cortelyou—not sure if Rubiy had put him back into my mind, or my own guilt had. “When—uh, when am I supposed to—go back?” I only said it to cover what I was thinking, but it was still hard to ask.
“Soon. When I’m sure you’re ready.” He wasn’t talking about my health. But in the back of his mind he was already sure that we were the same. He reached out, tracing the line of my jaw with his fingers, letting his arm slip across my shoulders. “You’re a handsome boy, as well as Gifted.”
I laughed nervously, wondering why the first person who’d ever said that to me had to be him.
“Galiess is envious of more than your telepathy, you know.…” His mind brushed against mine, and I remembered what Jule had said about Galiess being his lover.
“I’m cold,” I said, and it was the truth—suddenly I was cold to my bones. “I better go back down.” I edged away.
“Of course.” His hand closed gently around my arm.
“I can make it by myself.”
“Of course.” He let his hand drop again, brushing my hip. “You need a little more time … to think over the things I’ve told you.”
I nodded. He disappeared. I made sure he was even gone from my mind before I went on down the hill, feeling afraid of something I couldn’t name.
* * *
By the time I reached town it was getting dark, even though it was only the middle of the day. Bright banks of lights were coming on in the streets, but they weren’t enough to clear the settling of night. Cortelyou was still somewhere out in the hills; I could feel his mind dimly, distant and closed. The starport lay on my right, silhouetted by the glow of the landing grid eaten out of the hillside beyond it. A couple of cargo shuttles were sitting on the field; I recognized the insignia on the side of them both: Centauri Transport. I turned toward the port entrance, drawn by the sight of the ships.
The lobby was nearly empty. The floor was a tiled picture of the Crab Nebula, with a colored fountain spewing up from its center like the heart of an exploding star, all golds and reds. The walls were midnight blue, glowing with hidden light. I was surprised; the outside of the building looked like the warehouse it was. I stood blinking in the brightness until my mind caught a familiar murmur of thought, and I finally understood what had made me come: Jule. I found her with my mind before my eyes found her, standing behind a counter in a half-hidden corner of the room. Somebody in a Centauri Transport uniform was talking to her. At first I thought he was just another horny spacer trying to pick her up. Her irritation stung like hot needles.
But then he handed her something that looked like a message. She read it, and her mind flashed anger/disbelief/suspicion/anger. She wadded the message up and put it in her pocket. I couldn’t tell what she said to the officer, but I read the cold refusal in her mind. He actually took her by the arm then, trying to pull her away from behind the counter. She opened up her mind and let him feel what she thought of him. He dropped her arm and backed away like she’d slugged him. He almost ran toward the exit that led to the landing field.
I crossed the room to the shipping area; she was the only one there by the time I reached it. She started as she finally noticed me. She looked like I felt, shaken and exhausted. I moved to lean on the counter, needing the support.
(Don’t do that!) Her voice inside my head made me pull back. (Your bond tag will set off alarms. Keep it away from things.)
I froze, tingling with panic, but nothing happened. Slowly I put out my left hand, watching her face. I leaned on it, pretending to relax, keeping my other arm clear. (Jule—)
Her gray eyes sent me a look that was almost angry. She was thinking about what it meant for both of us if anybody noticed. “You shouldn’t be here, Cat. Galiess—”
(Can go to hell!) I made her wince. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Look, I … I need some information.”
I felt her wondering why I couldn’t have waited, or even asked her about it long-distance, mind-to-mind, with less risk.… And then I felt her suddenly know why, the way she always did.
Her face softened. “Cat, I’m sorry about what happened before … for what Ardan said, and for what I didn’t say. There was a lot of blindness. Even when you’re a telepath—or an empath—it’s still so easy to be wrong. Isn’t it?…” She put a hand up to her eyes, and for half a second she wasn’t seeing me. “Because we’re still human beings first, always trapped behind a one-way glass of self-centeredness. And somehow that makes it so easy to say the wrong thing.”
“I wasn’t wrong.” I hadn’t expected this now. I felt my anger starting fresh, too easily. “I know what Siebeling was thinking. He’d rather have his son be dead than be me.”
She shook her head. (No! Listen to what I’m trying to tell you.) “Ardan never meant he was glad you weren’t his son. He was only glad that his son hadn’t had to suffer what you did. You let yourself misread.”
I didn’t say anything; I only let myself remember.
“He didn’t know what the mines would be like for you. Cat, he didn’t know.” And she hadn’t known, either; she was ashamed that she hadn’t understood, that even with empathy she could never really go where I’d been.
Her eyes were hurting me. I looked away. I had what I’d wanted, her understanding; but there was still no sharing between us, only walls. What she said was true. A human could never trust or share completely, the way the Hydrans did. They’d always be too afraid … of seeing themselves.
I knew she was watching my face and thinking about things I wished she’d leave alone, angry at herself over me when she didn’t need to be. I wanted to tell her that, but I didn’t know how. So I said, “Ju
le, Rubiy is back,” and I made myself look at her, just to stop her thoughts.
It worked better than I’d meant it to. Her mind tangled into a wild wall of defense, almost choking me out. She let it loosen again, relaxing but still on guard. “How do you know?”
“I’ve talked to him.” I looked down at my hand, watched it tighten on the counter edge.
“And it made you afraid.” She half frowned, because it wasn’t for the reasons she’d expected. I felt her trying to read what was too out of focus even for me to understand.
“It ain’t just that he’s good, or even that he told me how he’s gonna take the mines.…” Her eyes widened, but she didn’t interrupt. “It’s … there’s something else, something more, that I almost caught: more than just what I can do for him, something he—wants. I mean, he wants me.”
Her frown sharpened, questioning.
“Yeah, like that. It’s all right; I can handle that. But it’s more than just that. Deeper. Stronger, like he wants—” My soul. I broke off. “I don’t understand it; I don’t think I want to understand it. Because that’s what really made me afraid, Jule. Because … we were the same, once, him and me.…”
“And you might still be?” She shook her head, telling me, (Don’t be afraid of that. There’s no need.) “You were never alike, really.”
And I swore that as long as she believed that, it would be true … even if I didn’t trust myself.
“You said Rubiy told you how he plans to take the mines?” Her voice was barely louder than a thought.
I nodded, and showed her what he’d said.
“So it’s true. He really has what he needs.…”
“Me.” I made a face.
For a minute she couldn’t even answer; her feeling of helplessness was so strong I could taste it. “When—when are you—is this going to happen?”
“I don’t know Soon.” I couldn’t refuse to go, or Rubiy would be on to us all. But if I did go.… I covered the bond tag with my hand.