Steven Harper - Dreamer

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.