Dreamer Page 29

  I didn’t answer because there was only one to give. Suddenly I was angry again. Earlier today things were looking good. I had new clothes, my own place to live, and people who liked me. This jay-head was taking it all away.

  “Why the hell should I go with you?” I snapped. “I don’t have any proof of who you are or what you’ll do to me once I leave. How do I know you haven’t been sent to kill me?”

  Sufur raised his hands, and I realized I had pretty much said I was going to leave. “You have the power to make me do—or not do—anything you want. How could I hurt you? And if I were going to kill you, wouldn’t I just do it instead of talking all this time?”

  I thought about it for a while. I didn’t want to go, but I knew I couldn’t stay.

  “Can Kendi come?” I said before I could stop myself.

  “Do you really think he’d want to?”

  I thought about it. “No,” I sighed.

  “Let’s go then,” Sufur said gently. “I have a ship.”

  And then my Jesse personality spoke up. Always get the money up front. “We haven’t talked terms yet.”

  Sufur smiled. “Altruism isn’t enough?”

  If he was thinking I didn’t know what altruism meant, he was wrong. “I can’t eat altruism. And you don’t look exactly hungry yourself.”

  “Fair enough.” He scratched his head. “How about this, then. Just to show you I mean what I say, I’ll give you a salary and no duties. You do what you want. If you don’t like what’s going on, you can take your money and leave, no strings attached.”

  I eyed him with heavy suspicion. “What’s the catch?”

  “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.”