Steven Harper - Trickster

Kendi. The con job. And Sejal was here. An idea popped into Ben's head.

"Sejal," he asked urgently, "where exactly are you these days?"

Sejal shrugged. "Around. Why?"

"We could really use your help. You can still reach through the Dream and possess non-Silent in the solid world, right?"

"Not as easily as I used to, but yeah." Sejal's tone was wary. "And before you ask, no, I can't pull people who've lost their Silence into the Dream. I've already tried."

"That's not what I was getting at," Ben said. "I meant that you could help us. God, with you on the team, we could get Kendi's brother and sister out of the Collection in ten minutes. All you'd have to do is possess the people on the project, and Martina and Utang could walk right out. How fast can you get to SA Station? Should we come and get you?"

Sejal shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not exactly able to go anywhere right now, Ben."

"What? Why not?"

"I'm sort of busy. I just popped into the Dream to take care of some stuff and I noticed you were in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd just say hello. I can't really go anywhere right now."

"But-"

"I'm sorry, Ben. Look, I have to go. I'll see you around, all right?" And Sejal vanished so abruptly it created a wash of Dream energy that almost bowled Ben over. Slowly he got to his feet. The anger, initially directed at Sufur, shifted toward Sejal. What was Sejal doing that was so important? He wasn't a Child of Irfan, took orders from no one except his parents as far as Ben knew. Kendi had saved Sejal's life, for god's sake.

Ben took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Sejal wasn't usually mean or thoughtless. Maybe he had a good reason for refusing to help. What it might be, Ben had no idea. In any case, it was obvious that getting assistance from Sejal would not be an option, and there was no point in expending energy getting angrier about it. He needed something else to think about. Ben waved a hand, banishing the charred hole in the ground and replacing it with the featureless, blank plain that was the default condition of the Dream. Faint voices whispered on the air, just barely audible. Ben closed his eyes and concentrated on what he wanted to see. Around him, the Dream shifted and shimmered, bending to his will. Ben opened his eyes and smiled.

He was standing in a large nursery. Eleven cribs lined the walls, each one different. Shelves stood filled with toys, and happy animals capered across the brightly-colored walls and ceiling. Gauzy curtains floated in balmy spring air that breezed through open windows. Ben admired it for several moments, trying to imagine what it would look like filled with babies and children. He snorted, knowing the answer. Toys would be scattered all over the room, some of them broken, while shrieks and cries bounced off the walls. Someone would be laughing, someone else would be crying, and yet another someone would be howling in indignation over some slight. Far from idyllic.

With eleven children, Ben knew, there would be days when he would wonder why he had ever thought having even one was a good idea. But he was equally sure there would also be days when he would wonder how he had lived without them. He was eager to experience both.

Then he sighed. It would be a while. First they had to free Kendi's brother and sister, and after that they'd have to find host mothers. Still, it was fun to dream and plan, especially when he knew that eventually it would all come true.

Assuming they didn't get caught stealing slaves from Silent Acquisitions. Assuming they could find host mothers. Assuming they could afford eleven children. Assuming the Children of Irfan didn't simply disappear.

Ben bit his lip. It was hard to imagine the Children of Irfan fading away. The monastery had always been there, a comfortable constant in his life. He knew every building, every walkway, every tree and balcony. He couldn't imagine them empty and lifeless, bereft of the people who had lived and worked there for almost a thousand years. As well imagine the sun going out. But when the current generation of Silent died, the Children would indeed die with them.

Ben gave himself a shake. Boy, you're in a mood, he thought. Go check on Kendi, see how he's doing.

And he let go of the Dream.

"You want a favor," Harenn said. "I can tell."

Kendi blinked innocently at her from the medical bay door. "How could you possibly know?"

"It is a psychic power found among all mothers. That, and you are holding something behind your back."

With an unrepentant grin, Kendi produced a star-shaped piece of equipment and set it on the counter. Harenn instantly recognized the object as a small cryo-unit, though very old.

"What does it contain?" she asked.

"Silent embryos. Ben's brothers and sisters, to be specific."

"Ah." Harenn picked up the cryo-unit and examined it with interest. "I have heard the story. I was unaware that Ben had… inherited the other embryos."

"We want to take them out and raise them as our kids," Kendi said, leaning one hip against the counter. "One or two at a time."

Harenn blinked at him. "You wish to become parents? Congratulations! I think Ben would make a fine father."

"Thanks," Kendi said. "We want to-hold it."

"And what is it you wish me to do?" Harenn continued with a perfectly straight face. "Be a host mother?"

"Nothing like that," Kendi laughed. "Though we'll have to address that issue eventually. What I'd like is a detailed gene scan. All we know about these embryos is that they're all healthy and they're all Silent. Ben says he and Ara never ran any other tests on them, but you could perform a few, couldn't you?"

"What sort of tests do have in mind?"

"See if there are any matches in the databases that might tell us who the parents are or where they came from. Or even how old they are. Whatever you can come up with."

"Genetic scans will not tell me their relative ages, unless the gene patterns are from an extinct group. Still, this is an interesting mystery. I will see what I can do."

Kendi thanked her and turned to go, then turned back. "Harenn, do you think I'm ready to be a father?"

"No," Harenn said.

"What? Why not?"

"No one is ever truly ready to become a parent," Harenn said with a small smile. "Even those who think they are. Parenthood is too powerful, too unique to each individual. So I do not think you are ready. But I think you will learn quickly and I think you will learn well."

"Oh. Thanks. I think."

"I will run your tests as soon as I have a chance," Harenn told him.

"Thanks for that, too." With a wave, he left. Harenn looked thoughtfully at the empty doorway for a moment, then stared for a long time at the cryo-unit.

A small snip, and a tiny hole opened in the fabric covering Martina's index finger. Martina held her breath, waiting for some kind of shock or even an alarm. Nothing. Martina set the scissors down with an internal sigh of relief and shot Keith a brief glance.

Martina was worried about her brother. It was hard not to stare at him over the pile of robes, even though staring at a member of the opposite sex created more N-waves and would earn her a warning shock. Keith was bent industriously over his work, the needle dipping swiftly in and out of the fabric. His depression seemed to have vanished entirely, which was why Martina was worried.

The other Alphas sat in a circle on the hard floor, their legs swathed in piles of yellow fabric. There was no conversation, just the rustle of cloth, the snip of scissors, and the occasional low murmur from a Delta pointing out flaws. The Alphas wore special gloves, thinned for the extra sensitivity required for sewing.

How long had she and Keith been here? Martina had no idea. Whenever she tried to keep track of the time, something happened to make her reckoning slip away. Sleep cycles were irregular. Sometimes Martina and the other Alphas were kept awake for so long, they were collectively ready to pass out on the floor. Some began to hallucinate. Other times Martina knew they couldn't possibly have been awake for more than a few hours before being sent to bed. Sleep time, when it came, was always too short. Martina had no way of knowing for sure, but judging from her level of fatigue, she and the others weren't getting more than five or six hours of sleep at a time.