Dreamer Page 30

  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.”

  Dr. Say nodded once and vanished. Padric pushed his thoughts out into the Dream, questing, sensing, sorting through the hushed whispers. Eventually he found Sejal’s pattern. The boy was in the Dream. Good. That would make it even easier. Padric jumped off the chaise longue and sprinted away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THE DREAM

  Even the truth can lie.

  —Senator Garan Crae

  The falcon soared over hot, dry scrub land, her back to the red-cracked darkness. The place made her sick, made her want to fly fast and far, though she had learned she couldn’t fly so far that it disappeared entirely.

  Below her, the landscape changed. A ship with sails like clouds floated on undulating waves. The falcon’s sharp eyes picked out Gretchen at the helm. She made a rude sign at the sky. The falcon soared onward. A great mansion stood surrounded by tranquil pines. Black curtains were drawn across all the windows. Trish’s house. The falcon soared onward. She passed over a castle, a shack, a pool of water, a hissing cloud of vapor. Each one contained one or more Silent in varying shapes and species. The falcon soared onward.

  Then a faint sound caught her ear, rising above the constant whispers in the Dream. The falcon banked and turned. There it was again. Flute music. She gave a chirrup of excitement.

  The ground below was a seashore. A calm red ocean lapped gently at white sand which eventually gave way to trees. The falcon’s sharp eyes easily picked out Sejal sitting in the shade.

  The falcon shot back the way she had come, wings clacking against the wind. The air grew hot and dry again, and she dove down to a naked, dark-skinned figure waiting patiently in the shade of giant rock. He put up an arm and she landed gently on it.

  Kendi blinked as the falcon’s memories merged with his. So Sejal was back in the Dream at last. A twinge of excitement mingled with relief.

  “Thank you, sister,” he said.

  The falcon clacked her beak and leaped back into the sky. Kendi watched her for a moment, then took off running. As he ran, he released his expectations of what the world around him should be. The ground shifted beneath his feet, changing from sandy soil to a sandy beach. Gentle waves washed over his ankles, creating little splashes of warm water. A white shirt and blue shorts grew out of nothing to cover his body, and rubber sandals appeared under his feet. Ahead he heard flute music. After a moment, Sejal himself came into view. He was still sitting in the shade of a kind of tree Kendi didn’t recognize. His music was fast and light, his fingers almost a blur. Kendi slowed. When Sejal was a few paces away, he glanced at Kendi with ice-blue eyes then turned his gaze back out to sea. Kendi sat down in the sun.

  Sejal played. Kendi waited, amazed at his own patience. He wanted to grab Sejal by the shoulders, ask hi
m where the hell he was. Yesterday Kendi had been woken out of a sound sleep by Ara’s insistent call. Sejal, she had informed him, was gone. A frantic search of the dormitory and the monastery grounds had turned up nothing. Kendi did a quick check with the desk clerks who had been on duty the previous evening, and they reported that Sejal had picked up a delivery and left with an older human. The old man’s description matched that of the rude man from the monorail.

  Not much later, the monks assigned to guard Chin Fen’s room were found bound and drugged in his room. Fen, of course, was nowhere to be found. Further, the spaceport reported that a slipship had taken off the previous evening without proper authorization. It wasn’t difficult to link the events together.

  Sejal’s song slowed until it matched the leisurely pace of the red ocean waves. It was a sad song, full of disappointment, broken dreams, and tragic beauty. Kendi listened, enjoying the moment. Conflict was coming, but in this moment there was beauty.

  Eventually the last note faded into the lapping water. Sejal set the flute down and hugged his knees. The silence stretched between them, and Kendi had to force himself to break it.

  “Where are you, Sejal?” he asked. “We’ve been worried.”

  “I’m on a ship,” Sejal replied without looking at him. “We’re in slipspace, though I don’t know where we’re going.”

  “Have they kidnapped you, then?” Kendi asked urgently. “Sejal, we can—”

  “I’m there because I want to be,” Sejal interrupted. He let go of his knees and drew musical notes absently in the white sand. “I work for Sufur.”

  Kendi tried not to show his tension. “Who’s Sufur?”

  “Some rich guy. He came and talked to me and I decided to work for him. He’s paying me a shitload.”

  A small flock of seabirds coasted overhead with high, wild cries. Kendi brushed a bit of sand off his leg. Sejal’s sun was warm but not nearly as hot as Kendi’s.

  “Is that why you left?” Kendi asked. “More money?”

  Sejal drew a treble clef and added a pair of flat signs. “I was kind of hoping you’d be able to come with me,” he said. “But Sufur said you wouldn’t want to. I figured he was right.”

  “Why did you go, then?”

  “He told me stuff,” Sejal said. “He told me about Mother Ara’s meeting with the Empress and how she’s supposed to kill me. So fuck you all.”

  The words smashed into Kendi like an icy brick. An almost physical pain wrenched him. His stomach felt like someone had poured hot lead into it.

  “Sejal—” he began.

  “Shut up, Kendi,” Sejal snarled. He kept his gaze out at sea, but Kendi saw moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes. “Just shut up, okay? I thought you were my friend. But you knew about it. You knew Ara was supposed to kill me and you didn’t do anything. You didn’t even fucking tell me.”

  Kendi didn’t know what to say. He cleared his throat and forced some words. “Sejal, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know if I should.”

  “You didn’t think you should?” Sejal’s voice rose. “You didn’t think you should tell me that someone was going to kill me?”

  “I know Ara,” Kendi said. “She wouldn’t…she wouldn’t…”

  “Yeah, right.” Sejal sniffed hard. “You can’t finish that sentence because you aren’t sure. You can’t lie here. You think she would’ve killed me.”

  Kendi shifted uncomfortably on the soft sand. “I can’t justify anything, Sejal,” he said. “I should have told you. I messed it up. I was stupid and I’m sorry.”

  Sejal didn’t say anything.

  “What’d this Sufur guy offer you?” Kendi asked finally.

  “More than you earn in a lifetime, I’ll bet.” Sejal wiped the treble clef away and doodled aimless swirls instead. “Thirty million freemarks a year and five million extra to start. And that’s just the cash.”

  Kendi whistled. “The Children can’t match that. But is the money all you want? You can’t buy friends.”

  “Friends don’t let other people try to kill you. Besides, this’ll stop the war.”

  Kendi blinked. “What war?”

  “Sufur told me the Unity was going to declare war if the Empress didn’t send me back right away.” In a dull voice, Sejal went on to explain the conversation he’d had with Padric Sufur. Kendi listened intently, his tension growing with every word. By the end of it, his stomach was a giant knot, though he forced himself to appear outwardly calm.

  “Did it ever occur to you to ask what Sufur would eventually want you to do?” he said when Sejal finished.

  “I don’t have to do a thing,” Sejal said smugly. “It’s in my contract. Besides, no one can force me to do anything. It’s why the Unity and the Children of Irfan are so hot to get their hands on me.” He picked up a small pebble and threw it out into the water.

  “You know what really flames, Kendi?” Sejal said quietly. “It’s that you and the Children didn’t come after me because I needed help. You came after me because I’m a walking power bank and you didn’t want anyone else to get hold of me. You didn’t care about me.”

  Kendi winced at that. “I care about you now,” he said.

  “That doesn’t cut it.” Sejal unfolded his legs. “I’m not coming back, Kendi. You can’t persuade me and you sure as hell can’t make me. You’re not my teacher anymore. Why don’t you just leave?”

  “I don’t want to leave,” Kendi said.

  “Fine. Then I will.” And he vanished before Kendi could reply. The ocean, beach, trees, and seabirds disappeared with an inrush of energy that left Kendi dizzy for a moment. Remaining was the flat, empty plain and the ever-present darkness at the horizon. He heard it wailing even at this distance.

  The dizziness cleared, and emotions jumbled through Kendi’s insides. He had betrayed Sejal, played the judas goat that kept cows calm until the butcher came. The idea made him sick.

  Feeling rotten, Kendi trotted in a random direction and mentally rebuilt his Outback. The sun reappeared and the gray sky became a perfect blue. His clothes vanished.

  And then he smacked into a hard wall. Kendi fell backward, stunned. Harsh laughter mixed with a cry of pain. Dazed, Kendi sat up. He was in a stone room filled with shadows. One of the shadows stood over another with a black knife in its hand. The shadow on the floor cried out and raised its hands, but the knife descended again and again and again. Kendi watched, frozen. A smaller bit of shade slithered across the floor toward Kendi with a wet, slippery noise. Heart twisting within his chest, Kendi tried to back away, but he was already pressed against the cold bars of the cell.

  “Leave me alone,” Kendi croaked. “You aren’t real. This isn’t real. I am here but I want to be there. I am here but I will be there.”

  The scene didn’t change. The shadow with the blade laughed harshly and turned slitted yellow eyes on Kendi. At Kendi’s feet, the smaller shade had stopped moving. As if in a daze, Kendi reached for it, then snatched his hand back.

  “No!” he cried. “This isn’t real.” He clenched his eyes shut and put tight fists over his ears.

  Keeeendiiiiiii, whispered the shadow. Keeeeendiiiiiii. I have something for you. Keeendiiiiiii.

  Kendi’s breathing came in short, sharp gasps. He could felt the cold shadow sliding toward him. “If it is my best interest and in the best interest of all life everywhere—”

  Keeeendiiiiii …

  “—let me leave the Dream. Let me leave the Dream now!”

  Something shifted. The laughing ceased as if someone had thrown a switch. Kendi opened his eyes. He was standing in the corner of his room at the monastery, rubber-tipped spear under his knee. Sweat varnished every inch of his body and had actually made a small puddle on the floor beneath him. Slowly, Kendi put the spear away, ran a damp hand through equally damp hair, and stepped into the bathroom for a shower.

  Although Kendi was a full Sibling and his stipend was easily enough to let him afford a house, Kendi preferred to live in
the monastery quarters set aside for newly-graduated students who had not yet paid back their debt to the Children and needed an inexpensive place to live. Kendi put aside the money he saved in rent with the hope of buying his own slipship one day. His room was furnished with a bed, desk, two comfortable chairs, a wardrobe, and a few shelves of bookdisks. A few bits of animal statuary—a kangaroo, a koala bear, and a falcon—were the only adornments in the room.

  Kendi closed his eyes under the warm spray. This was solid. This was real. He didn’t need to worry or think about what had happened in the Dream. Like the nightmares, it was just a shadow not worth examining.

  He shut the water off, dried, and dressed. Then he started to call Ara to tell her about his conversation with Sejal, but he found himself ordering the computer to call Ben instead. The wall flashed blue and the words “Placing call” blinked in pleasant yellow print.

  This was stupid. They had all arrived on Bellerophon three days ago, and Ben hadn’t tried to contact Kendi once. Why was Kendi putting himself through this? Ben refused to discuss the idea of Sejal taking him into the Dream—not that it was likely to happen now—and it was patently obvious that Ben didn’t want things to work between him and Kendi. Kendi should give it up before he turned into one of those weirdos that stalked ex-lovers until they ended up in an asylum.

  The phone rang twice more. Kendi was about to hang up when the wall flashed and Ben came onto the screen. His hair was, as usual, boyishly disheveled.

  “Kendi,” Ben said. “Hi. What’s wrong? You look upset.”

  “I do?” Kendi asked, startled that it showed so readily.

  “You’re pale.”

  “Yeah?” Kendi said weakly. He stretched out dark-skinned hands. “How can you tell?”

  Ben laughed, and Kendi’s insides flipped a little at the sound. Then he grew more serious. “Mom told me about Sejal taking off. Is that what’s going on?”

  “Kind of,” Kendi admitted. All of a sudden he felt weak and wrung out, as if he were a shadow fading in the sunlight. “This whole thing is a mess and I don’t know what to do.”