Dreamer (25 page)

Prasad paused, startled at himself. He had spoken the truth. Words banged inside his skull, demanding release.

“I can’t stay,” he said again. “I do not believe that those children are not sentient. I do not believe they feel no pain. They are in physical and mental distress, and I have not let myself see this. I think...I
know
I blinded myself to these facts because I wanted a safe place for Katsu and for me. Can you understand that?”

“A safe place,” Vidya repeated softly. Her face softened. “Yes. I can understand.”

A moment of quiet fell over the room. Prasad’s stomach growled, and he became aware of the smell of honey bread still hanging on the air. They should eat. They could eat together as a family for the first time in seventeen years.

Was Sejal, his son, eating breakfast now?

“They are in pain,” Katsu spoke up.

“Who is?” Prasad asked absently.

“The children in the Nursery.”

“How do you know this, my daughter?” Vidya said. Her voice was calm and soothing. A mother’s voice.

“I dance with them in the Dream,” Katsu replied. “Then they don’t eat so much.”

“Eat?” Prasad said, his mind still on breakfast. Did Katsu mean the children wanted to eat with them?

“They don’t eat other people.”

Prasad snapped to full attention at this. The hackles rose on his neck. “Katsu, what do you mean?”

“The children hunger for the touch of minds denied them in the womb and in the Dream,” Katsu said. “They hurt and they are angry. I dance for them sometimes, and that calms them for a while, but they still hunger. And when they eat, they make many people despondent. Sometimes these people die.”

And with that she fell silent.

“You must explain more, daughter.” Vidya put her hand on Katsu’s shoulder. “You must tell us what you mean.”

But Katsu only rose and went into her room. The door shut softly behind her. Vidya watched her go with puzzled eyes.

“She is always like this,” Prasad ventured. “Sometimes I think she says so little because she expects the rest of us to follow her reasoning, even when we lack the intelligence.”

Vidya rose as well. “I think my husband needs to show me these other children.”

“I think,” Prasad said, pushing himself up from his chair, “my wife is correct.”

Dr. David Kri was murmuring to a computer pad in his hand before the clear barrier in the Nursery. He was in his early middle years, blocky and short, with pale hair, red cheeks, and narrow green eyes. Beside him stood Max Garinn studying the spiky lines crossing a readout monitor and twirling his blond mustache. In the Nursery itself, several of the dark-haired children twitched and convulsed. Their mouths opened and shut, as did their brown eyes. Saliva dribbled down several chins. Vidya stared, her face pale.

“My husband,” she whispered. “They look like you.”

Prasad opened his mouth to deny this, then swallowed the words. The time for denial was over. Vidya was correct, and he knew it, had always known it. Just because he had never looked up the records stating which children had received his DNA did not mean the knowledge was hidden. Vidya was forcing him to look, and now he would see.

Dr. Kri looked up from his pad. His eyes widened at Vidya. “What the hell?” he sputtered. “Prasad, what is she doing here? This is a restricted area!”

“Vidya must see everything before she decides whether or not to join the project,” Prasad replied calmly.

“And I will join,” Vidya put in. “I find this fascinating.”

Prasad stared. Vidya ignored this and turned to Max Garinn. “But first,” she said, pointing at him, “you must answer my questions.”

Garinn turned the monitor off. “Go ahead.”

“You told me you could change my son Sejal so he would not be Silent,” Vidya said flatly. “You lied. My son is Silent, a powerful Silent.”

“He’s
the one the Unity was looking for?” Dr. Kri said, astonished. His voice was rich and mellow. “And you’re his mother?”

“Yes.”

Wild anticipation mixed with amazement and...hunger? on Dr. Kri’s face. Prasad could almost see the wheels turning in the man’s head.

“I told you I had an experimental process,” Garinn corrected, still twirling his mustache. Prasad wanted to snatch his hand away from it. “I told you my viruses would change him right down to his stem cell DNA. I made no promises, and I gave you money. The process obviously worked. Your son came up negative on both scans for Silent genes, so there must have been enough change made to fool the Unity. What are you complaining about? No one came to take him when he was ten years old.”

“But he is still Silent,” Vidya insisted, her voice a cold, deadly calm. “Did you do that on purpose? I need to know.”

Garinn shook his head. “No. It was an unanticipated side-effect.”

He turned the readout monitor back on. Beyond him, one of the Nursery children abruptly went limp just as another went into another fit of spasmodic behavior. Vidya looked like she wanted to say more, then apparently thought the better of it.

“You’ll join us, then?” Dr. Kri’s eyes gleamed and he clapped his hands once under his chin. “That’s wonderful! What we could do—it boggles the mind. I mean, Prasad’s DNA alone gave us this.” He gestured at the twitching bodies in the Nursery, and a wave of shame swept over Prasad. “If we combine it with yours, well—we may bring this project to conclusion in only a few more years.”

“I will, of course, require compensation,” Vidya said thoughtfully. She leaned against a desk. “I will have the same benefits you are giving Prasad, plus a salary twenty percent higher than his and a twelve thousand
kesh
signing bonus.”

Dr. Kri smiled. “Oh dear. We aren’t made of money, you know. Our...sponsor does well by us, but still—”

“Yes, I see,” Vidya said, waving a hand. “Very well. I shall gather my things, then, and leave you to arrange my transportation back to—”

“Now, now,” Dr. Kri interrupted, his rich voice taking on a silky edge. “I didn’t exactly say no.”

Vidya finally settled for a salary twelve percent higher than Prasad’s and an eight thousand
kesh
bonus. Prasad shook his head. Why was she bargaining? They were going to leave, weren’t they? He knew he couldn’t stay. Now that he could see the place through Vidya’s eyes, every moment spent in the Nursery made him more and more uncomfortable, more and more ashamed.

After the dickering ended, Vidya turned to Prasad. “Perhaps my husband will help me unpack?”

She took him firmly by the elbow and all but towed him away from the Nursery. The moment they had cleared the labs, Prasad turned to her.

“What was that about? Why did you say you would stay? I thought—”

“We are staying,” Vidya said in a voice that brooked no argument, “until we can figure out what to do about those children.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

PLANET CONFEDERATION’S CORE

PALACE OF HER MOST AUGUST AND IMPERIAL MAJESTY EMPRESS KAN MAJA KALII

People who are [s]ilent are dangerous.

—Bolivar I of the Independence Confederation in a speech

Whether Bolivar meant
silent
as a proper or a common noun is a matter for conjecture.

—Scholar Perrin Wal

“War?” Ara exclaimed.

Empress Kan maja Kalii nodded. The jewels hovering about her head bobbed like confused fireflies for a moment before settling back into their normal orbits. Although it was early morning for Ara, it was night on this part of Confederation’s Core, and the Empress was holding audience in a great alabaster hall with a cathedral ceiling and white marble floors. The Empress herself sat on a simple gray throne on a raised platform. Lamps glowed with cold light, and the windows were shut tight against darkness and spies. The only people in the room were Ara, Grandfather Melthine, and the Empress herself, though Ara and Melthine were actually possessing the bodies of a pair of Silent slaves. They currently knelt on large pillows near the base of the Empress’s platform.

“Premier Yuganovi’s personal Silent delivered the ultimatum moments ago,” the Empress said. “The Empire of Human Unity resents the kidnaping of Sejal Dasa on the Confederation’s behalf. If Sejal is not returned immediately, the Unity will declare war.”

“Over Sejal?” Ara said incredulously. “He’s powerful and valuable, certainly, but full-blown war?”

“There are other factors,” the Empress said. “I am also dealing with a boundary dispute and the fact that two favored slipship routes for Confederation ships brush Unity territory. A trade agreement we negotiated ten years ago needs to be reworked due to changes in the availability of the goods concerned, but the Unity refuses to discuss the idea. Another Unity spy was caught in my court and we’re trying to see if we can arrange a trade for one of our operatives found in their territory, even though neither side is officially supposed to be spying on the other.”

The Empress paused to rub a hand across her forehead. “Relations between the Confederation and the Unity are a keg of powder. You can probably guess how I would describe Sejal’s supposed kidnaping.”

Melthine cleared his throat. He currently wore the body of the muscular male slave Ara had possessed all those weeks ago when Pitr had been alive and the Empress had put Sejal’s life into Ara’s hands. Ara had taken the body of a heavy-breasted human woman nearing middle age. The weight of the woman’s chest dragged continuosly at Ara’s back and shoulders.

“Have you sent the Unity an answer about Sejal, Imperial Majesty?” Melthine asked.

“I have not.” The Empress crossed her ankles beneath her simple sky-blue robe. “The situation is delicate. If the Unity goes to war, we will, of course, call on the Belmare Planets and the Five Green Worlds as allies. The Confederation would appeal to the Koloreme Senate and the Micha Protectorates, but the Prism Conglomerate could go either way. If I persuade the Conglomerate to proclaim it would side with the Confederation, the Unity might back down without bloodshed and with only small financial cost to the Confederation. If war actually breaks out, the price for the Congomerate’s aid would go up. The Unity, of course, has probably already sent a delegation to the Conglomerate, and we must move quickly to match it.” She sighed. “Mother Ara, what is your assessment of Sejal’s position?”

Ara shot a sideways glance at Melthine. “I have no opinion at this time, Imperial Majesty. The matter requires...further study.”

“What matter?” Melthine asked. “Is this the subject you declined to discuss in our meeting in the Dream?”

“Yes,” Ara replied simply.

“You may tell him of the duy I laid upon you,” the Empress put in.

Ara did. Melthine met the news with an impassive face. “I see.”

“I can stall the Premier for some time, of course,” the Empress said. “This sort of thing does not move quickly. Look how long it took the Unity merely to admit that young Sejal had slipped through their fingers.”

She leaned forward and the jewels bobbed again. “Practicality says I should give Sejal back to prevent many lives from being lost in a stupid skirmish. I do not think it wise, however, to hand someone with Sejal’s power over to the Unity. That itself might be worse than a war. This is not an easy position to be in, Grandfather and Mother.”

“I can sympathize,” Ara murmured, then quickly added, “Imperial Majesty.”

The Empress leaned back without changing expression. “In any case, it is obvious the Unity knows of Sejal’s power. They would not normally offer war over a single, untrained Silent, even in these volatile circumstances. I am still not sure, however, how they learned of his existence.”

“Other Silent were sensing Sejal in the Dream before we left Rust,” Ara said. “Kendi was just the first. Premiere Yuganovi probably had every Silent in the Unity searching for Sejal, and they finally tracked him down. I suspect that when Sejal possessed the six guard at our ship, it provided the final flare of activity they needed to pinpoint his location.”

“That sounds reasonable,” the Empress said. “However, there is also the chance that a spy was feeding the Unity information. Is it possible this was one of your crewmembers, Mother Ara?”

“I very much doubt it,” Ara said. “Though if you have misgivings, we could question them—and me—in the Dream, since it’s impossible to lie there.”

“Do that,” the Empress ordered. “Though Brother Pitr Haddis died, correct? I do not wish to open wounds, Mother Ara, but is it possible he was the spy?”

Ara’s throat thickened with anger. Pitr a spy? Ludicrous! And now the Empress was questioning his sacrifice. The change in wording hadn’t been lost on Ara, either—”a spy” had become “the spy.” Witch hunt language.

“I don’t think,” Ara said with seething deliberateness, “that Pitr would have ensured our escape and saved our lives at the expense of his own if he were a Unity spy.”

The Empress nodded. “And what of Chin Fen?”

“He was a student at the monastery years ago,” Melthine spoke up, and Ara was glad. It gave her time to regain her composure. “But he left before completing his training. He never reached the Dream. He claims he fled to the Empire of Human Unity because it put humans first and because he was young and foolish.”

“Where is he now?”

“Under house arrest until I can decide what to do with him,” came the reply.

“Is it possible he is the spy? That he can indeed reach the Dream and report information to the Unity?”

Ara shook her head. “Fen figured out who Sejal was long before he leaped aboard my ship. If Fen were spying for the government, he would have turned us in the moment he even suspected we were harboring the wanted Silent.”

“What of your son Benjamin?” the Empress said.

Ara’s mouth fell open in utter shock, as if the Empress had dumped a load of icewater on her head.

“He ran communications on board the
Post Script,”
the Empress continued relentlessly. “It would have been easy for him to alert the Unity to anything he pleased.”

Ara did the unthinkable. Still kneeling, she turned her back on the Imperial Majesty. Black anger made every muscle as rigid as a brick, and Ara would have launched herself at the Empress’s throat if she had been forced to look at her for one moment more. She stared fixedly at the far end of the hall, boiling with rage.

Serene must you ever remain,
she told herself.
Serene. Serene.

“Benjamin Rymar,” Melthine answered quietly, “is one of your most faithful subjects, Imperial Majesty. He is devoted to the Children, even though he is not Silent. So are Harenn Mashib and Jack Jameson. I have utter confidence in them all.”

Ara did not turn around. She knew she was risking time in prison for her disrespect, but she couldn’t bring herself to act properly yet.

“Here is my decision, then,” the Empress said. She seemed to be ignoring Ara’s breach. “Two of my slaves will enter the Dream, where lies are impossible, and question all Silent who were on board the
Post Script,
including you, Mother Ara. I expect it to be a formality and I expect that the Unity learned of Sejal through its own Silent, but we must be sure. Since Chin Fen is not my subject but wishes to defect, he will answer questions under medication. We shall, for the moment, assume Benjamin, Jack, and Harenn are innocent.”

Melthine said nothing. Ara continued to stare at the far wall.

“Mother Ara,” the Empress said in a kinder tone, “I know this is difficult—”

Ara whirled, heedless of Imperial protocol. “You know nothing. First you order me to decide whether an innocent boy should live or die. Then you make a mockery of the Brother who gave his life for mine, and you accuse my son of high treason. Your ass is on a throne, but your head is in a toilet.”

“Ara!” Melthine gasped, horrified. “Imperial Majesty, I beg you to excuse—”

“Calm, Grandfather Melthine,” Empress Kan maja Kalii said gently. She turned her brown eyes on Ara. “I understand more than you know, Mother. Shall I tell you how I spent my day? This morning I ordered emergency famine relief for a suffering planet. The planet is remote, and in order to ensure relief arrives in time to do any good, foodstuffs, medical supplies, and other materials must be shipped in from the closest two planets without delay. Although the Confederation subsidizes everything, it will take time for the subsidies to catch up. This means the relief effort will put a temporary drain on these planets’ economies and there is a good chance it will spark economic recessions that will change hundreds of thousands of lives. It took me over two hours to analyze the factors involved and order the implementation of this plan. In those two hours, five thousand, two hundred and twenty-four of my subjects died of hunger.

“Next, I received word that a minor conflict between a Confederation planet and one of its colonies has escalated into full-scale war because my nephew, who I sent as a mediator, was kidnapped and tortured to death by agitants.”

Ara suppressed a gasp at these words. Kalii continued without changing tone or inflection.

“Hundreds of people have so far died in this war. Now I must send troups to put down this uprising, meaning still more lives will be lost or irrevocably changed, many of them innocent civilians. This is how I spent my afternoon.

“This evening, I sit here discussing the fate of a single boy and a handful of Silent monks while the nephew I loved like a son lies in a bloody grave a thousand light-years away. And I must discuss these things because if I do not, the Unity will declare a war that will make my nephew’s conflict a playground scuffle by comparison.”

With a single swift gesture, Kalii snatched the little jewels that orbited her head into her palm and flung them away. They bounced and scattered like marbles across the white stone floor. “I am long weary of this, Mother Ara. I inherited this crown seventy-two years ago from my father Bolivar the First, and in that time the burden has become no easier to bear. Billions of people live and die by my words, and I sleep with their ghosts every night.

“I am not asking for your pity. I am, however, asking you to understand that you are not the only one who must make difficult decisions or watch the ones you love pay for your mistakes.”

Ara had not moved. Now she bowed her head low, her anger replaced by a shame that flamed her cheeks red and raw. “My deepest apologies, Imperial Majesty. I often berate my former student Brother Kendi for speaking without thinking. It seems I must learn to take my own advice.”

Kan maja Kalii nodded. “You and I are much alike, Mother Adept Araceil. People of our kind see what must be done, and we do it. Only afterward do we find time for tears.”

Ara flushed at the praise, even though she recognized the words as those of a leader trying to raise the morale of a subordinate.
Interesting,
she thought,
at how psychology works even when the recipient is aware of it.

“Have the ships returned, Imperial Majesty?” Melthine asked. “The ones that were sent to investigate the Silent enveloped by the disturbance in the Dream?”

The Empress shook her head. “Not yet. They have no doubt arrived by now and are investigating, but then it will take them some time to get back.”

“Once they arrive, can’t the Silent on board the ships simply report back?” Ara said.

“We have been studying the disturbance, Ara, and we advised the Empress not to send Silent to those planets,” Melthine put in.

“What?” Ara said, wondering, since she had already flouted Imperial protocol and gotten away with it, if she could push a little further and sit cross-legged instead of kneeling. Kendi must be rubbing off on her. “Why not?”

“Dream mechanics,” Melthine said. “Space means nothing to Silent within the Dream, but it does to non-Silent minds outside of it. When we enter the Dream, remember, we build our world from the real-world minds closest to us before we can move on to other minds. We don’t know what would happen if Silent tried to reach the Dream using minds from within the disturbance. Better first to learn what happened to the Silent already there.”

A tickle at the base of Ara’s skull warned her that her drugs were beginning to wear off and she would have to leave soon. As before, it seemed as if the Empress could read Ara’s mind.

“Your time must be running short,” she said. “You have your instructions. I will expect to hear from you soon regarding these matters. Grandfather. Mother.”

“Imperial Majesty,” they replied together. Then Ara let go of her body.

A dark room, the same one she always encountered before possessing an Imperial Silent, popped into existence around her. The two bits of light that represented the Silent slaves they had possessed floated in front of her, and Grandfather Melthine, no longer young and muscular, stood to one side. The furry, rotund Seneschal, Imperial silver chain hanging around its neck, ushered them out and courteously bade them good-bye. Behind them, the Dream foyer slipped into nothingness and disappeared entirely, leaving them on the familiar empty plain. In the distance, ever-present and almost taken for granted now, was the red and black chaos.