Dreamer (34 page)

No, that wasn’t true. The only way to shout for help was by radio or by Silent. If the planet he went to had been engulfed, Silent communication would be worthless, and radio would be too slow to do him any good. Still, there was nothing else to do. He programmed the coordinates for Nikita, the world he had chosen, and hit the panel that shoved the ship into slipspace. The view flashed psychedelically, and Ben blanked the screens.

“Where are we going?”
Harenn asked over the intercom.
“We’ve entered slip but I know nothing else.”

Ben told her. “We should be there in a few hours. I’ll stay at the controls.”

“The engines are doing fine,”
Harenn said.
“I will wash Mother Ara’s body and place it in a cryo-chamber.”

It. His mother had already become an object instead of a person. Ben swallowed, then bent over the boards. Traveling through slipspace required constant course corrections, and Ben wasn’t experienced enough yet to make them by reflex. He had to concentrate on each one, and he welcomed the challenge. His entire world shrank to the instruments in front of him. One correction, and another, and another. The hours passed. They would leave slipspace in three...two...one...now!

The communication system leaped to life. Voices wavered in and out of hearing as the computer automatically searched for the control frequency. It found it, and the bridge echoed with instructions to other ships about entering and leaving orbit. Nikita’s airwaves were bustling with life, and Ben sighed with relief.

A hand landed on Ben’s shoulder. He jumped and twisted in his chair. Kendi was behind him. His brown eyes were luminous, his strong face torn with emotion.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Mom’s dead,” Ben blurted, then turned back to the boards, embarrassed without knowing why.

“I know,” Kendi said. “I remember everything.” He put his arms around Ben from behind. Ben leaned back for a moment. He could feel Kendi again.

They stayed like that until the proximity alarm piped up to warn Ben that they were drifting too close to another ship—a warship. Kendi released him, and Ben felt empty, though not nearly as empty as he had felt back on Bellerophon.

“Want me to take over for a while?” Kendi offered. “I’ll get us into orbit and we can figure out what to do next.”

Ben nodded and got up. He took his usual place at communication while Kendi ran his hands over the flight board. Ben radioed for authorization to establish orbit around Nikita and discovered that most of the planetary orbits were taken up by warships. Ben could take a spot around the second moon, and he could only have it for two days. Then he would have to reapply and he might be denied if the military needed the spot. Kendi nudged the
Script
into place.

“Now what do we do?” Ben asked.

“I want to see her,” Kendi said.

The secondary bay was a gray, echoing chamber some twenty meters on a side. Stacked six high near the entrance were a dozen black boxes the size of coffins. Each bore a window, computer screen, and keypad. The cryo-units on the
Post Script
were meant for use in an emergency, in case all life support failed and/or there weren’t enough suits to go around. A cryo-unit automatically scanned its occupant and inserted IV needles that injected a sedative followed by a series of steroidal compounds that allowed the user to survive and be revived from temperatures colder than liquid nitrogen.

Only one unit had been activated. All the lights were red, indicating the unit’s occupant had died. Harenn stood nearby. She turned as Ben and Kendi entered. Her eyes were red and puffy above her veil.

“I have said good-bye,” she told them. “I will leave you alone with her.”

Harenn withdrew. Kendi walked up to the unit, and Ben noticed they were holding hands. He didn’t remember if he had taken Kendi’s or if Kendi had taken his. Ara’s cryo-unit was waist high, and Kendi had to bend slightly to peer through the window. Ara, her face pale and still, was visible inside. New grief sprouted like a sodden blossom in Ben’s chest, and anger, too. How could she commit suicide like that and leave him to find her broken body? He knew that it hadn’t been her fault, but the knowledge didn’t make him feel any better.

“The Real People are supposed to see death as a joyful transition,” Kendi said beside him. “I can’t do it. She was like a mother to me and I was a total jerk to her and I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.”

The grief filled Ben and overflowed like a waterfall. He let go of Kendi’s hand so he could put his arm around Kendi’s shoulder. Kendi hugged him back as they both started soundlessly to cry. After a time, they stopped and just stood in front of Ara’s body before turning away. Their feet took them out of the cargo bay and toward the galley.

“What happens now?” Ben asked as they walked. “We can’t go back to Bellerophon.”

“I don’t know,” Kendi admitted. “And eventually we’ll run out of places to run to if that thing in the Dream keeps growing. I don’t want to go through that again, Ben. It was horrible. I can completely understand why Ara...why she did what she did. I wanted to die, too.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Ben said.

Kendi squeezed Ben’s shoulder. “Thanks again.”

“You need to thank Harenn, too,” Ben replied as they reached the galley.

“Thank me for what?” Harenn said. She was sitting at the table with a steaming mug of fragrant coffee before her.

“Catching Kendi before he finished the job,” Ben said.

“Thank you,” Kendi told her gravely.

“You are welcome,” Harenn replied, equally grave. She gestured at the tiny kitchen. “There is hot water if either of you want coffee or tea.”

Kendi shook his head. “Right now,” he said, “I need the Dream.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

PLANET CONFEDERATION’S CORE

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

The dictator needs an occasional bloodbath to renew his power.

—Breen Freerunner,
Revolution!

Her Imperial Majesty Kan maja Kalli I, Empress of the Indepence Confederation, held her regal pose on the simple throne in her marble audience chamber despite the tension humming along her nerves. Courtiers filled the balconey and occuped chairs on the floor, and over a dozen Imperial guards surrounded the throne platform. The pleasantly-muscled body of her favorite Silent slave was kneeling on the cushion at the base of her dais, but the look on his handsome face was far from pleasant.

“Message begins,” he said. “From Sharleman Bellimari, Executive Officer of the Prism Conglomerate Board of Directors, Chief Manager of—”

“You may dispense with the titles,” the Empress interrupted, forcing her voice to remain calm. “Both his and mine. Begin with the actual message.”

“Yes, Imperial Majesty,” said the slave without looking up. “Message continues.”

The court was holding its collective breath. The Empress realized she was clutching the arms of her throne with white fingers, but she couldn’t make herself relax them. So much depended on this single message.

The slave hesitated, and the Empress wanted to scream at him to get on with it.

“It is with great regret,” he said, “that we inform the Independence Confederation that the Prism Conglomerate is at this time unable to allocate resources to the Confederation for its conflict with the Empire of Human Unity. We can only hope...”

The court buzzed. The Empress did not sway in her seat and she did not turn pale on her throne. She did, however, stop listening. The Prism Conglomerate had turned her down. That was the only important thing. Without the Conglomerate’s support, the impending Unity war would be difficult, if not impossible, to win.

When the message ended, Kan maja Kalii dismissed slave and court. Alone in the echoing, empty room, she allowed herself to slump a bit. It felt like the weight of many worlds was pressing her down. She was so tired. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept for more than four hours at a time, and her arms and legs were heavy with fatigue. What if she just walked away? What if she just left the palace, the guards, the court, the decisions, and the bloodshed behind? What if she just told everyone they were on their own, that they would have to make their own decisions and take care of themselves?

Kalii stroked the smooth arm of the Imperial throne, the one her father had used for so many decades, and allowed herself a heavy sigh. It was pure fancy, abdicating and running away. If she did it, someone would take her place, and there was no way to know if that person would be kind or cruel, humane or inhuman. Kalii had no heirs, no one she knew well enough to put on the throne in her place. Not since her nephew had been murdered.

And how many of her subjects would see their own loved ones die in the war with the Unity?

Her Imperial Majesty Kan maja Kalli I, Empress of the Indepence Confederation, forced herself to sit straight on her throne and think hard about the problems of a galaxy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

THE DREAM

More people die from the cure than the sickness.

—Dr. M. Rid,

First Bellerophon landing party

“We were right,” Dr. Say said. Her smile was uncharacteristic and small. “Sejal was still carrying the retrovirus. There was plenty in the blood sample Garinn took. He used it as a template for the new one and we injected it into the next set of children last night.”

Padric clacked his beak and settled brown feathers. His talons gripped the perch in the stone room he had called up. Dr. Say sat on her backless stool, hands folded neatly in her lap. Only the slight flush and tiny smile indicated her great excitement. Padric, however, refused to share in it. He would not celebrate until the project reached its culmination. The window beside Padric displayed, as always, the roiling blackness, and the usual whispering in the Dream was all but silent now.

“We estimate,” Dr. Say concluded, “that the children will begin entering the Dream sometime within the hour.”

“Good,” he said, the word issuing oddly from his beak. “The Dream is growing worse. Fewer Silent are using it. Not even Dreamers, Inc. employees enter lightly. Most of the traffic is military. The Unity will officially declare war on the Independence Confederation in less than a day, and they’re trying to drag five or six other governments into the morass.”

“They won’t succeed,” Dr. Say said coolly. “The project will—”

Dr. Say never finished her sentence. With a yelp, she vanished from the Dream. Padric blinked in surprise, then reached cautiously out of the Dream, feeling for her mind in the real world. He couldn’t find it. Padric clacked his beak, uncertain if he should be worried or not. Reaching real world minds was not one of his better talents, especially when the minds in question were human, so the fact that he couldn’t find her didn’t mean much. The problem was probably completely mundane. Dr. Say’s drugs may have worn off unexpectedly, or someone from the lab may have awoken her so she could deal with some laboratory emergency.

After several minutes, Padric reluctantly concluded that she wasn’t coming back. He would have to check with her later. No doubt she was fine, and the explanation was perfectly innocent.

Dr. Jillias Say stared at the rod Vidya was leveling at her. Vidya put a note of steel in her voice.

“If you fail to do exactly as I tell you,” Vidya said, “I will give you another jolt, a stronger one. It will stun you and it will hurt.”

“What—” Dr. Say’s voice squeaked and she cleared her throat. “What do you want? How did you get into my office?”

“Get up,” Vidya replied. “Come with me.”

Say slowly got to her feet. Vidya kept the cattle prod pointed steadily at her. They were in Say’s office, a spare place with only desk, chair, computer terminal, and couch. Say had been lying “asleep” on the latter when Vidya came in. It had been simple enough to use the cattle prod to short out the lock. One look at the dermo-spray on the cushion beside Say was all Vidya needed. Say was indeed Silent, and she had been in the Dream.

Vidya ushered Say out into the genetics lab. Stainless steel glistened, machines hummed. The walls were a spotless white tile. Adrenaline hummed through Vidya’s veins and she had to work to keep her hands from shaking. Dr. Kri, Max Garinn, and all eleven slaves sat motionless on the floor against one wall. The wrists, mouths, and ankles of two of the slaves were bound with silver tape. Katsu was busy taping up a third. None of them resisted. Sejal, perched on a stool, stared at them with glassy eyes. Prasad, meanwhile, was muttering to a computer terminal in the corner.

“What did you learn?” Vidya asked him.

Prasad’s mouth was tight. “We’re too late. They did it last night.”

A pang went through Vidya’s stomach and she almost dropped the cattle prod.

“You’re trying to stop the project?” Say said incredulously. “Why?”

“Your project, whatever it is, will destroy the Dream.” Vidya let some of her anger slip into her voice. “Don’t you know what that would
do?”

“Of course I know.” Two spots of angry color appeared on Say’s pale cheeks. “Destroying the Dream is the whole point!”

Vidya’s hand tightened on the prod. “We’d guessed that.”

Prasad came over to join them. His face was grave. In the background, Katsu continued plying her roll of tape. “What exactly do you think destroying the Dream would accomplish?” he asked in his quiet voice.

“It would end war!” Say almost shouted.

Prasad shook his head so calmly Vidya irrationally wanted to slap him. Then she realized he was only trying to keep her talking so Katsu could finish her work.

“I do not understand,” Prasad said. “Please explain.”

“The Dream allows instant communication between planets and governments.” Say leaned back against one of the stone worktables. Vidya kept the cattle prod pointed at her. “Empires and armies are based on instantaneous communication. Without it, they’d fall apart. Don’t you see? The Dream allows interplanetary rule
and interplanetary warfare.
Without the Dream, communication would be slowed to the speed and availability of courier ships. The governments—all of them—aren’t used to that.  Without the Dream, admirals couldn’t communicate between ships and relay orders. Heads of government couldn’t communicate with satellite planets. Once the Dream is destroyed, war will end.”

Vidya’s temper rose again. “You are foolish to think so.”

“It will end the war between the Unity and the Independence Confederation,” Say shot back.

That stopped Vidya cold. “What?”

“Didn’t you know?” Say said almost sweetly. “The Unity just declared war on the Confederation. Troups and ships are already moving. Allies on both sides are gearing up as well. Billions of lives are at stake. I can—the project can—save them.”

“No,” Prasad said firmly. “The project won’t save billions. It will destroy trillions. Perhaps more.”

Now it was Say’s turn to look confused. “I don’t understand.”

“The Dream is more than a mere communication system,” he told her. “It creates a shared empathy and concern for our fellow beings. Without the Dream, there can be no compassion, no love, no joy. People will prey on one another. No one will care enough to raise children, or even have them. Within a few generations, all sentient life will simply fade away. Compared to this, war is as nothing.”

Say looked at him. She was still leaning against the worktable. Vidya realized her right hand, the one that held the cattle prod, was beginning to ache, and she risked switching it to her left.

“I don’t believe you,” Say said at last. “You’re lying to try to make me change my mind. I won’t. I watched my parents and my brother die in the famine. I saw my mother and sister raped to death by Unity soldiers. The project will destroy the Unity—” she spat “—for good.”

Prasad’s brown eyes were implacable. “It will also destroy Rust and every other civilization in the universe.”

“I still say you’re lying.”

“You can let go now, Sejal,” Katsu said, and Vidya turned her head to look. The slaves, Kri, and Garinn were well taped. Sejal blinked, then stood up and cracked his knuckles. As one, the prisoners widened their eyes and made muffled grunts and cries.

“We won’t hurt you,” Katsu told them. “We will release you as soon as we are finished here.”

“You can’t do anything,” Say said. “The final phase of the project is already underway. The next set of children will enter the Dream any moment now, if they haven’t already, and they will destroy it.”

Vidya’s temper broke. She balled up a fist and smashed Say’s face. Say’s head snapped back under the impact. Vidya’s knuckles stung. Say grabbed the tabletop with one hand and put the other to her mouth. It came away smeared with blood.

“Bitch,” she spat. “I’m glad you lost.”

Vidya was about to reply when Prasad laid a hand on her arm. “My wife should remain calm. Remember, we have a plan of our own.”

“You can’t stop the project,” Say almost laughed.

“No?” Vidya gestured at the door that lead to the Nursery. “Did you, then, find a way to let the Silent enter the Dream from cryo-sleep?”

Say’s pale eyes went wide. “You can’t.”

“You are mistaken.” Vidya put out her hand. “Katsu, would you bring me the tape please? Then you and your brother can help us with the children.”

Say backed up a step. A trickle of blood oozed from the corner of her mouth. “I won’t let you.”

“You can’t stop us,” Vidya said with a hint of mean gladness at the horrified look on Say’s face. “Please hold still. I
am
going to tape you up, and it would be very painful for you if I had to use the cattle prod first.”

“Tessa!” Say barked. “Emergency lockdown with password release. All files and access. Activate emergency alert system. Scramble all—”

Vidya leaped forward and thumbed the cattle prod trigger. A spark snapped and Say collapsed to the floor with a cry of pain. Kri tried to shout something, but it was muffled by the tape over his mouth.

“Acknowledged,” replied the computer. “Emergency lockdown in progress. Alert system activated.”

“Tessa!” Prasad ordered. “Abort emergency lockdown.”

“Access denied. Insufficient security clearance.”

“Shit!” Sejal said. He ran over to Say’s limp form.

“The new children are entering the Dream,” Katsu said. “I can feel them.”

Vidya’s insides twisted and she resisted the impulse to fling the cattle prod away. Stupid! She had been so stupid! It had been foolishness itself to tell Say what they were planning before immobilizing her. Now an entire universe would pay for her mistake.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

“We need to force her to release the lockdown,” Prasad said. “Otherwise the computer won’t activate the cryo-units.”

“The children are screaming.” Katsu headed for the door that lead to the Nursery. “I have to go into the Dream.”

Vidya knelt next to Sejal, who was checking Say’s pulse. He gasped when he touched her, further proof she was Silent.

“The woman’s a fanatic,” Vidya said. “We can’t persuade her with words. Are there any drugs in the labs we could use?”

“No,” Prasad replied. “And I wouldn’t know how to use them if there were.”

“Dammit!” Vidya pounded the cold tile floor with her aching fist. “One woman. This one woman stands in our way and we can’t force her to do what’s right.”

“You can’t,” Sejal said beside her. “But I can.”

“Possessing her won’t help,” Vidya objected. “It won’t tell you what the password is.”

“There are other things I can do, Mom,” Sejal said.

The Dream was almost empty. Kendi stood naked at the mouth of his cave, letting the good heat of the sun bake into his bones. He knew he shouldn’t stay long, but it was such a relief to feel the Dream around him. His toes dug into the sandy soil. The scrubby vegetation of the Outback stretched away beneath the azure sky. And in the distance was the dark place.

Ara was dead. The thought pierced him like a spear, ripping through heart and lungs with a white-hot edge. She couldn’t be dead. She was Mother Adept Araceil Rymar do Salman Reza. His teacher. His friend. His second mother.

The Real People saw death as something natural, nothing to grieve about. But all he knew was that it hurt. He felt trapped, hemmed in by grief and sorrow.

“Keeeennndiiii.”

The harsh voice sent a chill down Kendi’s spine.

“Keeeennndiiii.”

He was sitting on a hard stone floor. It was cold under his buttocks. The air had turned damp and it was filled with smells of garbage and human waste. Metal bars pressed against the knobs of his spine.

Kendi lifted his head. It was the Unity prison cell. Kendi’s eyes went wide and he pushed himself back against the bars. This wasn’t real. He was
here
but he wanted to be
there.

The cell remained. Nine metal bunks were stacked three high against the walls. A crude and filthy toilet stood in the corner. Cries and conversation echoed from other cells. Six other men and four women, one of whom was pregnant, were crowded into this one. A knife blade glinted in the shadows and one of the women screamed, a high, horrible sound. It was followed by a tiny, mewling noise. Blood splashed to the ground. Kendi stared at it.

“Keeeennndiiii. Loony, loony Keeeeennndiiii!”

Kendi wrapped his arms around his knees and rocked in the corner.

Sejal sat on the floor next to Say, who glared daggers at Vidya. She had managed to pull herself into a sitting position against one leg of the worktable. Her black hair had come loose from the braid coiled above her neck and her face was pale.

“Do what you want,” she croaked. “I won’t release the computer.”

“Look at me, Dr. Say,” Sejal said. “Look at me
now.”

Almost like a puppet, Say turned her head to look at Sejal. He was staring intently at her with those strange blue eyes. The grave look on his face made him look very adult and handome, like his father. Vidya mentally shook her head. Now was not the time for such things. She wondered if Katsu had reached the Dream yet and if she were having any impact on the children in the Nursery.

“Dr. Say,” Sejal said softly, “I know you don’t like my mother. But you like me, don’t you?”

After a long moment, Say nodded. Sejal reached out and ran the back of his finger down Say’s cheek. She shuddered delicately. Vidya stared. Where had Sejal learned that gesture? The answer followed almost immediately on the question and nausea bubbled in her stomach. Behind them, Prasad shuffled his feet.

“Dr. Say. Jillias,” Sejal murmured. “Do you love me?”

Say nodded again. A little color returned to her face, and she gazed at Sejal with rapt adoration. Vidya was certain she was going to throw up.

“Jillias,” Sejal said. “Will you do me a little favor? Please?”

“Yes, Sejal,” she murmured. “Anything for you.”

“Release the computer. Would you do that? For me?”

A long pause, and then a nod. “Tessa,” she said, “lift emergency lockdown.”