Steven Harper - Dreamer

They passed the original street corner and Ara resisted the urge to wave at Gretchen and Harenn. Are settled back in her seat to think. The boy was obviously a prostitute. This didn’t bother Ara. It made her job easier. As Harenn had pointed out, she could simply proposition him and use the opportunity to talk. But Kendi had said the local houses didn’t tolerate freelancers. How had he gotten away with it?

Ara drummed her fingers on the gritty handrest. The cab’s interior was worn and dirty. A small sign informed her that a network link was available for a surcharge, and a muted vidscreen set into the back of the driver’s seat showed a local newscast. A second sign said that slaves must prove their owners had granted permission for them to ride in a cab and they must pay in advance. A third sign said, You Are Safe with the Unity.

What if the men in the alley had been enforcers? That would make sense. One of the houses may have gotten wind that the boy was turning tricks and sent a couple of goons. Ara wondered if they were still in prison.

The ground car drove up to the same curb and the boy exited. Ara told the cabbie to pull over and let her out. Ara paid the fare and climbed out just in time to see Gretchen bump heavily into the boy. Harenn, a few steps away, watched from behind her veil.

“I’m so sorry,” Gretchen said with uncharacteristic politeness. “Goodness me, I almost knocked you over. Are you all right? Glory to the Unity.”

“Yeah, yeah, glory,” the boy replied. “Don’t touch me, lady.” And he hurried away.

Ara trotted up to her. “You didn’t touch him flesh-to-flesh, did you? Did you plant a transmitter?”

“No, and what do you think?”

“Got him,” Ben said. “You don’t have to run now.”

Ara gestured to Gretchen and Harenn. “Fan out. Harenn, since he hasn’t seen you, I want you to cross the street and get ahead of him. Gretchen, you stay a little further behind, and I’ll get closer. Pitr, follow as best you can and be ready to stand by. Trish, either grab a hotel room or go back to the ship and get into the Dream. Find us and follow us so you can whisper at people. Watch for the boy there, too, and for anything else that’s strange.”

“On my way, Mother,” Trish said.

“Got it, Mother,” Pitr said.

“Yes, Mother,” Harenn and Gretchen said in chorus. The three of them took up their positions and headed up the street in silent pursuit.

THE DREAM

“…all right?”

Kendi tore his eyes away from the iron bar in his hand. Trish was standing above him. She wore a strap of brown cloth across her breasts and another across her loins. The outfit looked strange on her white, stick-like figure. How long had he been staring at the bar? He should have felt Trish’s presence instantly.

“Did you hear me, Kendi?” Trish said. “I asked if you were all right.”

“I’m okay.” He scrambled to his feet, bar in his hand. Where had it come from? He hadn’t called it up. Did it have something to do with the canyon or the kid?

“Mother Ara told me to watch the Dream for signs of the kid,” Trish said. “I think that thing-” she gestured at the canyon “-qualifies. Did it almost open up under your feet too?”

“Yeah. And there’s something in it that screams at you.”

“I heard.” Trish shuddered. “Is it the kid, do you think? Can you sense him?”

Kendi closed his eyes and stretched out his senses. Nothing. The ground showed no further signs of shaking, the scrubby vegetation was alive and healthy, and the tiny tickle that told him his drugs were wearing off began to itch behind his eyes.

“I don’t feel anything,” Kendi admitted.

“What’s the bar for?”

Kendi hefted the bar without answering. It didn’t belong here. It would disappear. One…two…three.

The bar remained, cool and heavy, in his hand. It was just like the bars across his cell in Kendi flung the bar away. It spun off and vanished into the distance.

“What was that about?” Trish asked.

“Nothing,” Kendi said. “Look, my drugs are wearing off. I’d better go, all right?”

Trish gave him an odd look. “Sure. I’ve got scouting to do. See you on the ship later.” And she vanished.

Kendi gathered his concentration. If it is in my best interest and in the best interest of all life everywhere, let me leave the Dream.

His room on board the Post Script snapped into being. Kendi disentangled himself from the spear under his knee and dressed with care, wincing at his bruises and the pain in his ribs. Well, there was no reason not to use painkillers now. After a quick visit to the infirmary, Kendi felt much better and had decided to discuss the situation with someone.

“Peggy-Sue,” Kendi said, “locate Mother Ara.”

“Mother Adept Araceil is not on board the Post Script,” the computer reported.

Doing merchant stuff, he wondered, or tracking the kid with my composite? “Peggy-Sue, locate Brother Pitr.”

“Pitr Haddis is not on board the Post-Script.”

“Peggy-Sue, who is on board?”

“Benjamin Rymar, Sister Trish Haddis, and Jack Jameson are now on board.”

“Peggy-Sue, locate Ben Rymar.”

“Benjamin Rymar is on the bridge.”

Kendi headed up to the bridge. Ben wasn’t Silent and he didn’t understand the intricacies of the Dream, but Jack wasn’t someone Kendi had spent a lot of time with, and Trish was busy in the Dream.

Or you’re just looking for excuses, he thought to himself.

Ben was at the communications board. His fingers danced over the console and his soft voice muttered commands to the computer. As usual, his red hair was tousled and his purple tunic was wrinkled. The main vidscreen showed a map of the city of Ijhan. Different colored dots and a single gold star flashed on it. Ben turned as Kendi entered.

“You’re supposed to be resting, aren’t you?” Ben said.

“I can rest up here.” Kendi flung himself into the captain’s chair. “What’s going on?”

“We’re tracking the kid. Hot on the trail.”

Kendi’s stomach panged. He bolted to his feet and rushed over to Ben’s board. Without thinking, he put a hand on Ben’s shoulder and leaned over to look at the console. “And no one told me? Where are they? How long would it take me to get there?”

“They’re on up the map.” Ben’s dextrous fingers continued to move like dancing spiders. “Gretchen bugged him. And you aren’t going anywhere. Mother’s orders.”

“Neighborhood’s getting worse,” Ara’s voice said from the console. “Careful, everyone.”

Ben shifted, and Kendi suddenly became aware of the firm muscle bunching beneath his hand. He self-consciously took his hand away.

“Uh, why are you working so hard?” Kendi asked. “All you have to do is keep an eye on the transmitter.”

“And mask the signal from the Unity,” Ben said. “And keep an open link to the net. And track down-”

“I get it, I get it,” Kendi said. “Want some help?”

“It’s covered,” Ben replied absently.

Kendi nervously sank back down into the captain’s chair to watch Ben work. Ben had rolled his sleeves up, and fine red-gold hairs gleamed on his forearms. Kendi could see Ben’s collarbone, sharply defined above the wrinkled collar of his tunic. On the view screen the multi-colored dots chased the gold star over the map of Ijhan. A silence fell on the room, and Kendi didn’t try to fill it despite his churning stomach. The odds against his hopes were high, laughably so, but that didn’t stop his nerves from screaming at the thought that he might have found a part of his family again. Kendi watched the vidscreen and tried to calm his too-brittle nerves. His mouth was dry as salt.