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Dreamer Page 10
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Ara’s door still stood in front of him, and Ben realized he was stalling. Firmly, he pressed the door chime.
“Who is it?” came Ara’s tired voice over the intercom.
“It’s me, Mother. Can I come in?”
The door slid open and Ben entered. As Captain and Mother Adept, Ara commanded quarters larger than anyone else’s, but, in contrast to Kendi’s spartan room, all available space was filled. Bookshelves were crammed with thousands of book disks. Two large desks, each with its own high-powered terminal, lined opposing walls. Someone had managed to squeeze a tiny galley off to one side. Rugs and weavings hid the gray ceramic walls and floor with bright colors and designs. A pair of easy chairs had been tucked into the corners, and the air was tinted with the sweet smell of lingering incense. Ara was seated at one of the desks. The terminal was active, but Ara had swiveled in her chair to face the door.
“Hi,” she said. “I was meaning to tell you—good work on the search today. We couldn’t have tracked Sejal without you.”
Ben shrugged and sat in one of the easy chairs. “When are you going to go get him?”
“Soon,” Ara replied, and turned back to her terminal.
“Mother,” Ben said, deciding just to plunge in and get it over with, “what’s bothering you? You haven’t been yourself lately.”
“It’s a tense situation. The Unity Silent are aware of the boy, and we need to move quickly tomorrow.” Ara tapped at the console. Numbers and text flashed by too quickly for Ben to read, but he got the impression it wasn’t anything important, that Ara just wanted to appear busy.
Ben switched tactics. “Kendi’s worried about you.”
“And I’m worried about him.” Ara blanked the screen and turned again. “Has he said anything to you about prison?”
“He won’t talk about it. I’ve tried once or twice, but he always changes the subject.”
“Keep trying, would you?”
Ben’s red eyebrows lowered. “This wouldn’t be a subtle attempt to get us back together, would it?”
“It’s not subtle.” Ara smoothed her purple tunic. “I worry about you, too, you know. It’s obvious to me you’ve been unhappy without him.”
“Mother—”
“And that’s another thing. It’s always Mother now. It sounds like you mean Mother Adept. Whatever happened to Mom?”
Ben shrugged. “Everyone else calls you Mother. It’s just easier, I guess. People might think the only reason I’m here is because I’m your son.”
“Everyone on board knows you’re my son, Ben,” Ara chided gently. “They also know you’re one of the most talented people on this ship. Communications, forgery, hacking. And you have your pilot’s license now. I chose you for this crew because there isn’t anyone else who can do what you can.”
Except enter the Dream, Ben thought. His eyes strayed for a moment to one of the small holograms on the desk behind his mother. The small round projector that formed the base was old and worn, older than Ben, in fact. It showed the head and shoulders of a man in his early twenties, a little younger than Ben. He had neatly-combed dark hair, smiling green eyes, and a dimple in his chin. On the base was inscribed “Benjamin Heller.” When Ben was little, he used to fantasize that Benjamin Heller was his father. He had been named for the man, after all. Ara had told him a few stories about Benjamin Heller, that he was handsome, laughed easily, and had a penchant for puns and practical jokes. Ben’s little-boy imagination had added to the picture. Benjamin Heller would be strong and caring, and he would swing Ben through the air or wrestle with him on the floor. He wouldn’t spend endless hours in a Dream trance or leave Ben with relatives while he tracked down more important people—Silent people—who had been enslaved on other planets. It was all just a fantasy, though. Benjamin Heller had died years before Ben’s implantation in Ara’s womb.
“Can we go back to Mom?” Ara asked. Her voice was almost pleading, and Ben couldn’t help a small smile.
“How about Mother in public and Mom in private?” he suggested.
“It’ll do.” Ara gave a small smile of her own, then got up and went over to the miniature galley. “Would you like some tea? We can talk about you and Kendi. You never did explain why you broke it off with him. Peggy-Sue, raise tap temperature to boiling.”
Ben opened his mouth to give an evasive answer, then closed it. She’d done it again—manipulated the conversation away from herself. Ben had seen her do it with her authority as Mother Adept. Now she did with her authority as a mother. Abruptly, Ben had had enough.
“I came in here to talk about you, Mom. Not me.”
Ara blinked, two tea mugs in either hand. “Well, that was…direct.”
“I want to know what’s bothering you, Moth—Mom. Was it something the Empress said?”
“No.”
“There—you lied again.”
“I did not.”
“Mom.” Ben gave the word two exasperated syllables. “I have to agree with Kendi. If you’re holding back something important and something…happens to you, he won’t know everything he needs to.”
Ara silently handed him a steaming mug. It smelled of raspberries. “Strong with no sugar,” she said. “Just the way you like it.” She paused a moment, stirring her own tea. The spoon made a light clinking sound. Ben waited.
“It’s something I have to deal with,” she said finally. “No, don’t interrupt. You were right. I lied. It’s something I can’t bring myself to talk about yet.”
“Something about finding Sejal.” He took a hot, raspberry sip and set the mug down.
“Yes.”
An idea stole over Ben. “Is it that he’s really related to Kendi?”
“What?” Ara looked startled.
“Kendi thinks Sejal is a relative of his.”
“Oh no,” Ara groaned. “If I know Kendi, he’s already worked out how Sejal is related to him and where his relatives must be. Now what do we do?”
“Don’t try to change the subject. If the Empress didn’t mention Kendi’s relatives, what did she say?”
Ara blew on her tea.
“Mom. You’re going to have to tell us eventually. Why not now?”
“I might have to kill Sejal,” Ara said into her mug.
Ben stared. Ara drank, then cupped her hands around the tea mug as if they were cold.
“Kill him?” Ben said at last. “Why?”
“If, in my opinion, Sejal would, quote, ‘pose a threat to the Confederation,’“ Ara said quietly, “the Empress wants me to kill him.”
“She gave us an order like that?” Ben said incredulously. “What does she mean by ‘a threat’?”
“I’m not completely sure,” Ara said. “She left it up to me.”
“God.” Ben got up to pace the rug. “How could she order us to do something like that? What does she think we are?”
“She ordered me, Ben. Not you. Or anyone else.”
Ben stopped. “That’s why you’ve been so upset?”
“Yes.”
“God,” Ben repeated. “That’s cold-blooded of her. How could one boy with a freak ability threaten the entire Confederation?”
“If he possessed the right person or people at the right time, he could start a war, or assassinate an important person, or any number of things. Not to mention that if word of a Silent with the power to possess unwilling non-Silent gets out to the public, witch hunts will start all over the place. No one would be safe then.”
Ben was still pacing with agitation. “So the Empress chooses you to decide whether or not Sejal should die and then she says you have to pull the trigger, is that it? Who the hell does she think she is?”
“She thinks she’s Empress.”
Ben whirled on her, ready to make a sharp reply, when he noticed the tears standing in Ara’s eyes. Immediately he swallowed the remark and knelt by her chair to put an arm around her shoulders. She hesitated, then leaned her head against him. Ben remained very still. He had been an a
dult for several years now, but a handful of years didn’t erase a lifetime of expectations. Parents comforted their children, not the other way around.
“It’s all right, Mom,” he said softly. “All you have to do is decide that Sejal isn’t a threat and you’re off the hook.”
Ara was sniffling now, looking not at all like a firm, decisive Mother Adept. Anger rose in Ben’s chest. Kan maja Kalii might be the Empress and her word might be law, but Ara was Ben’s mother. In that moment, he would have socked Kalii on the jaw cheerfully and without hesitation.
“It isn’t that simple, Ben,” Ara said. “The Empress—and now I—have to think of literally countless lives. If I make a mistake and don’t…and I let Sejal live, thousands or even millions of people could die in his place. I’m afraid the Empress might be right, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to do what needs to be done.”
Ben didn’t know what to say to that, so he stayed quiet.
A moment later, Ara sat up and reached for a tissue to blow her nose. “Thanks, Ben. I feel better now.”
“Do you want me to tell Kendi about…about this?” Ben asked hesitantly.
Ara shook her head. “It’s my job. I’ll do it tomorrow.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
PLANET RUST
The universe is unfair. We can merely hope it will be unfair in our favor.
—Ched-Balaar proverb
Kendi tried to run, but there was no room. Unyielding stone hemmed him in. Shadows flickered like dancing trolls.
“Keeeeennnnnddiiiiii,” rasped a voice. “Keeeeennnddiiii.”
A dark puddle spilled across the floor, reaching for Kendi’s feet. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t cry out. A bright object flashed. Kendi screamed and bolted awake.
He was sitting up. Sweat ran in tiny rivulets down his bare torso and darkened the sheets. He sat there a moment, panting. He was on the Post Script, in his quarters, in his bed. The lights were on—he couldn’t bring himself to darken the room. He slumped a bit. The nightmare was already fading.
“Attention! Attention!” Peggy Sue said. “The time is now seven a.m. Attention! Attention! The time is now—”
“Peggy Sue, halt alarm,” Kendi said with remembered excitement. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his bathrobe. Today, Ara had promised, they would talk to Sejal.
Ara entered the galley, coffee cup in hand, last night’s resolve firm in her mind. At the sight of Kendi’s grinning face, however, she completely lost her nerve.
“Sejal today, right?” he said. “Trish says the Unity knows about him, so we have to move fast.”
Ara sat and hid behind a sip of coffee. The others had already breakfasted, so she and Kendi were alone in the little galley. The smell of rice meal and toast hung on the air. Despite her exhaustion and the fact that she had unburdened herself to Ben last night, Ara had slept fitfully and she felt heavy circles under her eyes.
“Yes,” she said, forcing herself to sit erect. “We’re going to see Sejal today. But I don’t think you should come, Kendi.”
“What? Why the hell not?”
“You’ve got too much invested in this. I don’t know how objective you’ll be if you think he’s a relative.” Ara poured thick brown honey over crisp toast. “You’ll scare him off.”
“Who told you I think—” Kendi began, then caught himself. “Ben.”
Ara bit into her toast, hoping Kendi would agree just this once. No such luck. Kendi leaned forward, elbows on the table.
“I need to come with you,” he said. “I saved Sejal from those goons. He owes me, and he’ll be more willing to talk to me than to a total stranger.”
Ara didn’t have the energy to fight. She threw up her hands. “Fine. Come along, then. But if I signal you to shut up, you shut up. Clear?”
Kendi saluted.
“That wasn’t an answer.”
“All right,” Kendi sighed. “Your wish is my command. When do we leave?”
Ara rose. “Right now.”
The taxi door slammed shut and the vehicle zipped away, leaving Ara and Kendi at the gate. The neighborhood was as Ara remembered it except for a different guard at the gateway. Ara decided not to mince words. Her stomach was tight, and she didn’t feel like bandying about.
“Glory. We’re here to see Sejal Dasa,” she said.
“Glory. What for?” the guard, a husky, dark-haired woman, said.
Ara stepped on Kendi’s foot before he could speak. “It’s a private matter. May we pass?”
I don’t have to do anything, Mother, Trish said from the Dream. This one isn’t very suspicious.
Trish was right. The woman looked at them for a moment, then wordlessly stepped aside.
“Nice lady,” Kendi observed. “Polite.”
“She’s doing her job. And stop dragging your foot like a hunchback. I didn’t step on it that hard.”
“So you say.”
Ara smoothed her trader’s tunic, unable to help a small smile. Kendi could be exasperating, but he knew how to lighten a mood. She pointed. “Sejal’s apartment building is over there.”
“Clean neighborhood,” Kendi admired. “Better than those other places we passed through. You could eat off the street here.”
There’s a thought, Trish said.
No people sat on the porches, and Ara assumed most of the adults were at work. A group of children ran up and down the sidewalk, yelling and giggling in some game or other. Their clothes were patched but clean. About a kilometer ahead of them, Ara could make out another wall and gateway. She wondered how extensive the wall was and what kind of neighborhood patrol Vidya had set up. Whatever she had done, it had apparently worked.
Ara and Kendi climbed the short flight of steps to the apartment building’s front door and Ara tried the nob.
“Glory to the Unity. Please state your name and your business,” said the scratchy-voiced computer.
“We’re here to see Vidya and Sejal Dasa,” Ara told it.
Whirr, click. “Please repeat your request.”
“We’re here to see Vidya and Sejal Dasa,” Ara repeated, louder this time.
Whirr, whirr, click. “Please repeat your request.”
“Ancient hardware,” Kendi muttered.
“Dasa!” Ara shouted at it. “We want to see Vidya Dasa!”
“Why are you looking for her?” said a voice beside them.
Ara turned. A woman was leaning out one of the first-floor windows. She looked to be in her late forties, with white-streaked dark hair, brown eyes, and an oval face. Worry lines left tracks across her skin.
She’s nervous, Trish reported.
“My name is Ara,” Ara said. “This is Kendi. We’re actually trying to find Sejal Dasa. Are you his mother?”
“Why are you looking for Sejal?”
Ara sized the woman up. It was a sure call she was Vidya Dasa, and it was an equally sure call that she wasn’t very trusting. Ara’s instincts told her to go for brisk and business-like.
“We have an offer for him,” she said. “A business proposition.”
“Who are you with?”
“Not the Unity,” Ara replied. “Could we come in, Ms. Dasa? It’d be much easier to talk about this in private.”
Vidya paused for a long moment, then nodded once. “Door,” she said, “open.”
She had actually had to say it twice more before the computer would release the lock. Vidya withdrew through the window, and Ara and Kendi strode up the dingy hallway to the apartment door. Vidya ushered them inside. The apartment was, like the neighborhood, threadbare but tidy. Scuffed throw rugs covered a pocked wooden floor and an ancient terminal sat in one corner. The windows were open, and pale blue curtains fluttered weakly in the breeze.
The place smelled of curry. A swaybacked sofa and two ancient chairs were arranged around a coffee table make of packing crates. Vidya gestured them to sit, though when Ara made for one of the chairs, Vidya blocked her way. Ara took
the sofa instead and Kendi sat beside her. Vidya took the chair. Kendi, Ara noticed, was fidgeting.
“I need you to tell me who you are and what you want with my son,” Vidya said.
Ara settled herself before beginning. “My full name is Araceil Rymar do Salman Reza. I am a Mother Adept of the Children of Irfan. This is Brother Kendi Weaver.”
“Silent monks,” Vidya said in a neutral voice. “I have heard of your people.”
“Then you know we aren’t here to hurt you or your son,” Ara said.
“Can we talk to him?” Kendi asked.
“Why?” Vidya asked evenly.
She’s getting angry, Trish said. It’s clouding her up. I can barely read her.
“He’s Silent,” Ara began, “and we want to ensure the Unity doesn’t—”
“He is not Silent.” There was an edge to Vidya’s voice. “I know this for a fact.”
“Who’s his father?” Kendi burst out.
“Kendi!” Ara snapped.
“His father is dead,” Vidya said. “He was my husband.”
Kendi’s mouth worked silently for a moment, then he asked, “Was your husband born on Rust?”
“Yes, as was his father before him.”
Kendi deflated on the hard sofa and Ara’s heart ached in sympathy. He might have brought it upon himself, but the deep disappointment on his face was so clear that Ara couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.
“Could we speak to Sejal?” Ara asked.
“He is not Silent,” Vidya repeated with more heat.
Careful, you two, Trish said I don’t like this.
“Ms. Dasa,” Ara said, “we have…information to the contrary. We aren’t here to take him in as a Unity slave. I should tell you, though, that the Unity is aware of him, too. They just haven’t tracked him down yet. We can smuggle him into the Children of—”
“Sejal is not Silent,” Vidya hissed. Her hand came up holding a short rod she had pulled from the space between the cushion and the chair. A blue spark crackled at the end. “Leave my house.”
Ara drew back on the sofa. “What in—?”
“An energy whip,” Kendi supplied. “It annoys cows but might kill a person.”