Dreamer (29 page)

“There isn’t one. I’m just willing to bet you’ll want to hang around.”

“How do you know I won’t steal you blind?”

“Two reasons,” he replied instantly. “The first is that people who plan to steal me blind rarely ask that question. The second is that I’ve studied your history. With what you can do, you could have set yourself up pretty well, even on Rust. You didn’t, and I think it’s because you’re not the kind of person who would steal.”

I didn’t like the fact that he had me so well pegged. “So what’s the salary?”

“Let’s see.” Sufur pulled a computer pad from his pocket and started punching at it. “The Unity uses
kesh.
One
kesh
converts to point two four freemarks. So that would be...All right. Yearly salary of two and a half million freemarks. That’s about ten million
kesh.
Full medical care and your own flitcar.”

Jesse froze my face before I could show my reaction. Ten million
kesh
was a truckload. Or it was back on Rust.

Never take the first offer,
Jesse whispered. I managed a sneer despite the fact that my heart was racing. “Ten million?” I scoffed. “How much do you think I’d get if I just put myself up for auction?”

“Fifteen million.”

“Thirty,” I said. “And I want my own house. With a swimming pool. And all the other stuff you said. And five million extra up front as a bonus.”

“Done.”

Idiot,
Jesse said.
He agreed too fast. That means he thinks you’re a bargain.

But I didn’t care. Thirty-five million in one year, plus a house and a flitcar. I’d never see a slum from the inside again. I crossed the room and stuck out my hand. Sufur looked at it for a long moment, then slowly brought out his own hand. His handshake was quick and limp and he pulled back as soon as he could. What was with him?

I got my flute and the computer button with my journals on it while Sufur’s pad wrote up a contract. We both thumbed it, and that was that. I looked around the room that hadn’t even had time to become mine. As we were heading out the door, I took off the ring Kendi had given me and dropped it on my desk in plain sight. When we left, I made sure the door was open a crack to make it clear I was gone.

“Aren’t we going to go out the back?” I said as we headed down the main hallway. “This leads to the front desk.”

“So?” Sufur replied. “I haven’t broken the law.”

Oh. “In that case...” I stopped at the front desk and picked up my delivery. I had been right—it was my clothes and other stuff. I made a mental note to transfer money to the Children of Irfan to pay for them. Like Sufur said, I’m not a thief.

We rode the monorail back to the spaceport. Sufur made sure there was a seat between us when we sat down. Then he put a finger to his ear and muttered to the empty air. I figured he was talking to his ship.

It was weird. Here I was on the monorail again. I was going backward, retracing the route that had brought me here. I had been happy coming in. I was depressed going out. I came in with a friend. I went out with a stranger. I came in poor. I went out rich.

Anyway. Sufur’s ship at the spaceport was small but luxurious. The hallways were thickly carpeted and the walls were painted with murals and frescos. It smelled new. The elevator was a floating disk that hummed up through a hole in the ceiling/deck to the bridge. There were only two chairs, and their backs were to us.

“Are we cleared to take off?” Sufur said.

One of the chairs spun partway around. My jaw dropped and I almost lost the hold on my packages. Sitting in the chair was Chin Fen.

“We’re all clear,” he said.

The other chair, a shorter one, also spun. An alien was in it, sort of like a giant brown spider. It waved its legs and antennae.

“Translation,” said a computer voice. “I’ve been monitoring newscasts. Nothing so far.”

“Good,” Sufur said. “Let’s go, then.”

“What the hell is he doing here?” I burst out, pointing at Fen.

Fen laughed. “You think I’m going to stay?”

“Didn’t Kendi say you were under house arrest or something?” I asked.

“I was,” Fen said. He cracked wrinkled knuckles. “It was low-level security. The monks watching me were nice enough. They thought the job was perfunctory, and until a couple hours ago, it was. I caught them off-guard. They’ll wake up in the morning and get yelled at by their supervisor, I’m sure.”

I folded my arms. “You were feeding information about me to Ara and to Sufur.”

“I said I had contacts,” Sufur put in mildly. “Let’s take off.”

Fen and the spider turned back to their consoles. Sufur stepped back onto the elevator, which started to hum downward. I jumped on it beside him and grabbed his arm. He drew away, but I didn’t let go.

“I thought you said there was nothing illegal going on,” I snarled. “Fen’s a spy.”

“Not as far as the Confederation is concerned,” Sufur said tightly. “Let me go, please.”

His voice was hard. I let go, and he smoothed his white sleeve. The elevator disk reached the next deck down, and Sufur went into some kind of lounge. Wide round portholes looked out at the spaceport and more thick carpets covered the floor. Half a dozen adjustable bed-couches were arranged around the room. Sufur sat in one. I took another.

“What do you mean?” I pressed. “Either Fen’s a spy or he isn’t.”

Sufur lay back on his couch and stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t read his expression. “I sent Fen to the Unity as my mole about five years ago, though I’m sure he told you and Mother Araceil that he’d been there longer. He’s adept at digging up information, even classified secrets. If he told Araceil half of what he told me, I’m surprised she didn’t get suspicious at what a mere clerk was able to uncover.”

My stomach dropped as the ship lifted. The ships visible through the portholes fell away were replaced with blue sky.

“I’m sure the Unity would love to talk to Fen,” Sufur continued. “The Confederation, on the other hand, should be grateful to him. He was paid to feed information to
me,
not the Children or the Empress. The Confederation benefitted from his work free of charge. In any case, spying on the Unity isn’t a crime in the Confederation, so they can’t level charges against him.”

“Why the hurry then?”

Sufur shrugged. “Courts are the same everywhere. It would take months for them to come to this conclusion. I’m just cutting through the red tape.”

The sky oustide darkened and stars salted the blackness. A moment later, the view exploded into slipspace color for a split second before the portholes darkened to hide it. Sufur got up.

“I have things to attend to,” he said. “You’ll find I prefer communicating with my employees by vid or in the Dream, so that’s probably how you’ll hear from me next. I’ll set up a bank account for you and make the other arrangements. Good day.”

And he was gone.

So now I’m updating my journal on his ship. I don’t even know what it’s called. The computer says we’ll reach our destination—whatever it is—in six days, two hours.

I think I’ll spend a lot of it in the Dream.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

PLANET RUST

MIDDLE OCEAN

If we deny our basic nature, what are we left with?

—Queen Mag of the Five Green Worlds

“She is spending more and more time in the Dream,” Vidya said from Katsu’s bedroom door.

Prasad nodded, his eyes still on the holographic screen. “The Dream grows worse. Pitfalls and monsters everywhere. And this darkness the Silent speak of is still there. Everyone is frightened.”

Vidya strode into the living room to peer over his shoulder. “The Unity news services are reporting such things? I find that hard to believe.”

“This is an underground service,” Prasad said. “They aren’t free of propaganda—they have their own agenda—but they are more reliable.”

“What is the Unity saying?”

“Very little,” Prasad’s fingers moved and the screen readout changed. “The reason communications are delayed, they say, is the war brewing with the Confederation. The Confederation has reneged on trade agreements, it shows imperialistic tendencies, the Empress and her people consort with vile aliens, and so on. And now the Confederation has stooped to kidnaping Unity citizens.”

“Sejal,” Vidya said.

“It took the Unity a while to admit it,” Prasad agreed, “but many rumors were flying about how the rogue Silent slipped out under the Unity’s nose. They had to say something to explain it, so they claim Sejal was kidnapped.”

Vidya pulled up a chair beside him. “How much longer can we continue to stall Dr. Kri and Dr. Say, do you think? It’s been days. I will not give them my eggs, and neither will I give them Katsu’s.”

“I don’t know,” Prasad replied, eyes still on the screen. “We have manufactured excuse after excuse, but soon they will realize our words are empty.” He paused. “I have been thinking. My wife is correct. The laboratory is not working to end slavery among women who bear Silent children.”

“That much should have been obvious to my husband from the start,” Vidya couldn’t help saying.

“The question is, of course, what they are actually doing,” Prasad continued, ignoring Vidya’s gibe. “I wonder if they are trying to use the children to destroy the Dream.”

Vidya’s intake of breath was sharp. “What brings my husband to this conclusion?”

“I have never seen Dr. Say touch Katsu.”

“And what has that to do with it?”

“I think Dr. Say is Silent and that she is the one who communicates with our benefactor, the person who funds this facility. Dr. Say does not wish anyone to know she is Silent, but Katsu would discover it if they ever touched. She has avoided Katsu ever since she was old enough to enter the Dream, though I never noticed until I thought about it just now.”

“This does not explain—”

“The children are devouring the Dream piece by piece. As they grow more numerous and more powerful, they will destroy it.”

Vidya blinked. “Why would anyone, espeically a Silent, wish to destroy the Dream?”

“You would have to ask Dr. Say and our benefactor.”

Vidya tapped her fingers on the table. “We must stop them, in any case, and we have still not solved the problem of what to do with the children. I refuse to accept the idea that we must kill them.”

“But perhaps we can immobilize them.”

“But perhaps my husband can explain, then, and with more speed?” Vidya said testily.

Prasad gave her a quiet smile, one which hadn’t changed in seventeen years. Vidya suppressed a grimace. They had been together for almost a week now, and Vidya still couldn’t decide how she felt about him. They shared a bed but had not made love. They hadn’t even kissed. Sometimes as Vidya lay next to him in the dark, she wanted to bury her face in his shoulder and mold her body against his. Other times she wanted to shove him onto the floor and kick and beat and tear at him. Vidya wondered if Prasad felt the same ambivalence toward her. They had not discussed it. By wordless accord they had gotten into bed together that first night but did not touch. Now it was becoming a habit, and the longer it went on, the harder it was to broach the subject.

“As always, my wife wishes speedy answers,” Prasad was saying. “I will explain. The lab is equipped with cryo-chambers. Dr. Kri had them installed in case we ever had to move the children. If the children are indeed causing the disturbance in the Dream, putting them into cryo-sleep would end it. No Silent can reach the Dream from cryo-sleep.”

“Ah.” Vidya nodded. “A fine idea, my husband. The only flaw I see is that we have to find a way to put thirty-one children into thirty-one cryo-chambers despite what will certainly be the best efforts of everyone else in the laboratory to stop us. Then we will have to figure out what to do with the children once they are in cryo-sleep.”

Prasad shut off the terminal. The holographic screen vanished. “When we walked to Ijhan, my wife, we did so one step at a time. It appears we must once again take the same approach.”

“I think,” said a new voice, “that it would be better to run.”

Vidya and Prasad turned as one to see Katsu in the doorway to her bedroom. How long had she been standing there?

“What do you mean?” Vidya asked before Prasad could respond.

“The children are angrier and hungrier than I have ever seen them,” Katsu said quietly. “They will expand again soon, and more Silent will die.”

“The children are killing Silent?” Prasad said, dumbfounded.

Vidya crossed the room and took Katsu’s hand. “My daughter, we do not understand. You must explain to us what the children are doing. Perhaps we seem slow to you, but—”

“Communication is difficult outside the Dream,” Katsu interrupted. “It is full of lies and deceits and misunderstandings.”

“But your father and I are not Silent,” Vidya said patiently. “It is a handicap, and one we must live with.”

Still standing in the doorway to her room, Katsu closed her eyes, seeming to search for the right words to attend her thoughts.

“When a Silent child is in the womb, it feels the touch of its mother’s mind,” she said carefully. “The children in the Nursery crave the touch they were denied. They are hungry and they are angry at what has been done to them. They reach into the Dream, eating everything they can and destroying what they cannot. The former creates the expanding blackness, the latter brings monsters into the landscape of the Dream.”

“Why have they not devoured Rust?” Prasad inquired, still at the terminal. “When Silent first enter the Dream, they build their landscapes using the minds of the people physically close to them, do they not?

“They do,” Katsu said. Her eyes were still shut. “And they do use the minds of the people on Rust to enter the Dream. They do not, however, feed here.”

“And why is this, my daughter?” Vidya asked.

“Because of me,” Katsu said simply. “They like my touch and the way I dance for them. If they fed off the minds on Rust, I would not be able to enter the Dream, and they do not wish this.”

A chill went down Vidya’s spine. “Katsu, what happens to the worlds on which the children feed?”

Katsu opened her eyes. “All species which produce Silent have a trait in common. It is empathy. It allows them—us—to know what others are feeling, even feel it ourselves. We have this trait because the Dream connects our minds and brings us together in subtle ways. When the children devour someone, however, they remove that mind from the Dream. The victims lose their empathy and they feel disconnected from everyone around them. Some people commit crimes they would not otherwise consider because they cannot feel the impact of their actions on others. Others fall into loneliness and depression because they cannot feel love from other people, and some commit suicide because they want the pain to end. The Silent are even more sensitive to the Dream, and they feel the impact the most. They cannot feel the Dream or enter it without the minds around them to provide a foothold. It is like being simultaneously struck deaf and blind with no one to provide care or comfort.”

Vidya forced herself to remain calm despite the prickling the crawled down her neck and across her arms. This was the most she had heard Katsu say in one sitting, and somehow Vidya knew that showing strong emotion would only make it more difficult for her.

“How much will the children devour if they are not stopped?” she asked softly.

Katsu shook her head. “I do not know for certain. I do know that their hunger has never once been sated, and it grows stronger as they grow older.”

“There are younger children in the Nursery,” Prasad croaked. “They are not old enough to enter the Dream, but they will be soon.”

“Yes. They will feed also,” Katsu said.

Vidya’s stomach twisted. “What will happen if the children devour all the minds in the universe?” she asked, surprised at the steadiness of her voice.

“The Dream will be destroyed,” Katsu replied. “The Silent will all go mad, and there will not be a single shred of empathy among any race anywhere. Life itself would not end, but we would well wish it to.”

Silence reigned in the room for a long moment. Then Vidya turned to Prasad.

“I believe,” she said, “that we need to run.”

Padric the sprint-cat reclined on his chaise longue a safe distance away from Dr. Jillias Say. She wore lab whites and sat primly on a spindly stool as thin as she was. Her straight, dark hair was coiled into a mass of braids on the back of her head. The stone floor beneath them remained solid for the moment. Voices continued to whisper around them, though there were fewer than normal. In the distance was the rumbling blackness. Padric had not conjured up any walls to block the view in case the chaos expanded again.

“It seems,” Dr. Say said with a hint of pride, “that the children in the project are indeed causing the disturbance in the Dream.”

“You call it a disturbance?” Padric asked archly, something he found easy to do as a sprint-cat.

Dr. Say flushed slightly. “Dr. Kri is running numbers. With a bit of Max Garinn’s viral therapy to kick them forward, the next batch of children will be able to reach the Dream within six months.”

“Six months?” Padric’s claws kneaded the longue, leaving tiny rips in the satin. “Not fast enough. Dreamers, Inc. and the Children of Irfan, to name just two, have set task forces to find out what’s going on. I can call in a few favors and try to slow them down, but I can’t imagine it won’t take them more than six weeks at the outside to find you. Haven’t you been able to speed things up? You have Vidya Dasa now.”

“We have not begun research with Vidya Dasa yet,” Dr. Say said. “I suspect she is stalling and I think it was a mistake to let her into the lab in the first place. I’m sure she suspects that we lied about wanting to end the slavery of Silent women, and I can’t imagine she hasn’t told her husband. I wish we could just kick them out, but we obviously can’t do that.” She leveled a hard gaze at Padric from her stool. “And no, Mr. Sufur. No matter what inducements you might offer, I will not kill them. If it becomes necessary, I will put them into cryo-sleep, but I will not commit murder for you.”

Padric spread his whiskers in bemusement. She wouldn’t kill. What a lie. The only reason she could say such a thing in the Dream was that she truly believed it despite the fact that several Silent had died due to the project and Dr. Say’s work. This need to deny the obvious was one of the more idiotic parts of human psychology.

“I won’t ask you to do that,” Padric told her. “But we do need to find a way to speed this up. Can’t Garinn do better?”

Relief made Dr. Say’s rigid spine slump a tiny bit. “I was coming to that. Garinn says he could do it if we had Sejal.”

Padric’s tail twitched. “Oh?”

“Garinn joined us after the Unity raided his laboratory.” Dr. Say patted the severe dark braids coiled at the back of her head. “He barely escaped with his life, never mind his notes on Sejal. Sejal’s genetic structure is...I was going to say unique, but that’s true of everyone. However, Garinn’s retrovirus had its greatest success when he tried it on Sejal. He didn’t have time to study why it worked, and asking Garinn to remember every gene sequence in Sejal’s DNA would be ludicrous. We have his parents, of course, but the combination that makes up Sejal is one of countless billions. Given time, we could narrow it down, but that would take months, possibly years. Having Sejal would speed the process considerably.”

“How considerably?” Padric asked intently.

“Garinn estimates that if he could study Sejal, he could have a retrovirus that would bring the new batch of children into the Dream in three weeks, perhaps two. And there is another possiblity.”

“And that would be?”

“Sejal may be still carrying Garinn’s original retrovirus,” Say replied. “If that’s the case, the new batch could be ready in days.”

A slight tremor rumbled beneath Padric’s couch. He cast a quick glance at the roiling darkness, ready to marshal his concentration and leave the Dream. How ironic that the very nature of project he was funding made the project so difficult to complete. Already Padric had lost contact with his interests on half a dozen worlds, though he had been prepared for this. A fleet of courier ships stood ready to spring into action once the collapse began. Padric didn’t want to send them out yet, though. Reports had filtered back from ships that had gone through the real-world counterpart of the chaos. Several crews had mutinied. Captains and crew had committed suicide. Many others simply failed to report. One engineer had flooded her entire ship with plasma, killing herself and everyone on board. More deaths on Padric’s hands.

On the other hand, how many millions would die if the project failed? It was worth it to sacrifice a few hundred people to save millions, even if one of them was Nileeja Vo.

“I have Sejal,” Padric said calmly.

Her eyes widened and she stood up. “You do? When did you get him? How did you find him?”

“I have resources,” Padric replied. It was gratifying to see her startlement and surprise. “Give me a few days and he’ll be back on Rust.”

“But how can you—”

“That’s unimportant.” The iron in his voice silenced her. “For now, you need to go back to your lab and keep a close eye on the Dasa family. I’ll whisper if I need you.”