Dreamer

Padric Sufur peered carefully through the branches of the pear tree. The round-bodied Mother Adept sat on the lip of her fountain, hands in her lap. At her feet sat a cabana chair. A male human Silent reclined in it and a tall glass with a pink umbrella sticking out of it hovered within his reach. The Silent had blond hair and wore an arrogant expression. Padric swallowed his distaste and forced himself to pay careful attention. He needed to find out if his information had been correct.

Beyond the garden wall, a section of sky remained blacker than a thunderstorm. Occasional flicks of red lightning streaked across the darkness. Even from this far away, Padric could feel the misshapen-ness of it. The area had cropped up yesterday over the giant canyon, and Padric hadn’t dared get close to it yet. Silent everywhere kept a wary eye on it and speculated on what it meant in frightened whispers. Meanwhile, however, Dream business had to continue. Padric carefully settled his wings about his tiny hummingbird body and listened.

“It’ll take another day to repair the hull to Harenn’s satisfaction,” Mother Adept Araceil Rymar said in her harsh human voice. “After that, it should take us about ten days to arrive at Bellerophon.”

The Silent sipped his drink and said nothing. His eyes, however, carried the rapt concentration of a trained Silent bent on absorbing every word. Once he left the Dream, Padric knew, the man would recite every word Araceil had said into a recorder. Good Silent always had highly trained short-term memories.

“I have not yet evaluated Sejal’s…destructive potential,” Araceil continued. “As Brother Kendi predicted, he seems able to possess the unwilling and non-Silent, though the exact extent of this ability we don’t yet know. I’ll conduct more tests back on Bellerophon.”

Every nerve in Padric’s body snapped to attention and his feet clenched the pear twig so tightly the bark dug into his skin. So his information had been correct. It was suddenly very hard for him to sit still, and Padric forced himself to remain motionless only with great effort of will. Although the form he had taken was tiny, his slightest movement would send weak ripples through Araceil’s portion of the Dream and she might notice him.

Araceil shifted on the lip of the fountain. “In anticipation of your Imperial Majesty’s next question, I don’t know how long it will take to determine if Sejal is dangerous enough to require…elimination. However, I am prepared to-” her voice faltered slightly “-to follow through on your wishes and will keep you informed. End classified transmission.”

Padric almost blinked. Araceil had orders to kill this boy? But of course. Humans were all alike in so many ways.

“The message will be delivered,” said the blond Silent in a toneless voice. He and his chair vanished without another word.

Araceil stared at the spot where he had been. Then a long sigh escaped her. The expression on her face was full of uncertainty, and Padric wondered if she was going to burst into tears.

“Dammit!” she suddenly yelled, and smacked the fountain water with one hand. Liquid sprayed everywhere. “And damn you! Damn you to a hundred hells, you damned Imperial bitch!”

Padric watched tensely from the tree as Araceil conjured up a vase and hurled it against the garden wall. It shattered with what Padric assumed was a satisfying crash. A hot wind rose, fluttering the green leaves and waving Padric’s twig up and down. Araceil raised a fist, and a lightning bolt cracked down from the clear blue sky. It split an orange tree from top to bottom. The concussion thudded against Padric’s fragile bones, and smoking splinters flew in every direction. He smelled burning wood.

“Damn you!” Araceil howled.

Another lightning bolt destroyed another tree. Nervously wondering if his might be next, Padric shot out of the tree, wings blurring, creating tiny ripples in Araceil’s Dream fabric. It was a risk, but Araceil was probably too distracted to notice right now. Besides, Padric was good.

Padric was one of the few Silent who could change his shape in the Dream. He could take the form of something small and inocuous, such as a mouse or a bird. He had experimented with stones and blades of grass, but rocks and plants can’t see or hear, so he had instead concentrated on animals. In these other forms, Padric could creep into another Silent’s territory, eavesdrop on conversations or meetings, and creep back out again with none the wiser.

As far as Padric knew, his talent was unique. Other Silent were subconsciously and firmly attached to their shapes. They expected their own form in the Dream, and that’s what they got. The first time Padric had come into the Dream, however, he hadn’t been able to take a shape at all. He had hung about as an amorphous blob. It had taken his instructor KellReech several months to coax him into a shape, and he had early on taken to shifting forms like quicksilver.

As a teenager, he had used the talent for his own amusement, spying on Silent who came into the Dream to play or sculpt Dreamscapes or have private talks. As a young man, he had used the talent for personal gain. Overhearing a few privileged conversations had allowed him to make some very wise investments over the years. Very wise indeed.

Another lightning bolt crashed downward, splintering the pear tree Padric had been using for cover, and Padric decided he was far enough away to make a real run for it. Although Padric was as adept as any other Silent at teleporting from one Dream location to another, the abrupt lack of his presence would cause an inward rush of Dream energy, much like water would hurry in to replace a rock that suddenly disappeared, and that would definitely be noticed.

The hummingbird skimmed low over the ground and shifted into a small feline creature with orange-brown fur. Padric tore soundlessly across the ground faster than a groundcar, muscles bunching, claws extended for maximum purchase.

A distinct rumble emanated from the dark area behind Padric as he ran. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw more red lightning suffuse the strange blackness. Instead of vanishing, however, the lightning left streaks behind, as if the darkness were cracking. Padric skittered to a halt and stared. Around him lay a flat, featureless plain; he hadn’t bothered to create anything more specific once he cleared Araceil’s realm. He sat back on his haunches and stared some more. The red cracks glowed like lava. What was happening?

Padric spread his whiskers with a whiffing noise, uncertain what to do. After a time, he became aware that someone was trodding close to his Dream space. A feathery touch asked permission to approach his domain. It was KellReech.

“Approach,” he called. Although sprint-cats from Rothmar couldn’t make speech sounds, Padric managed it. His subconscious might continue to reject the idea of a rock that could see or a leaf that could hear, but an animal that could talk didn’t seem to bother it overmuch.

KellReech appeared next to him with a soft pop, and Padric felt the ripples in his Dream space. KellReech was a Villor, bipedal and short, perhaps a meter tall. Her skin was covered in a rainbow shimmer of greasy scales, and her face was flat, with a wide mouth and two small brown eyes. Her fingers were long and graceful as grass stems.

“Have you looked closely yet?” she asked without preamble.

“No.” Padric raised an orange-brown paw. “Shall we?”

KellReech wordlessly wrapped his paw in her graceful multi-jointed fingers. The Dream twisted, and they were standing at the edge of darkness.

The wail hit Padric first. His ears flattened on his skull and he gave an automatic hiss. The wail was harsh and discordant, raking Padric’s nerves. KellReech released his paw and he forced himself to look at the scene more closely.

It wasn’t just the sky that was dark. It was every scrap of earth and air. Everything ahead of them was three-dimensional blackness cracked by scarlet. It stretched from horizon to horizon. Inside the darkness, Padric could dimly make out movement but no exact shapes, not even the canyon that had opened below it. This place had no form, and Padric wasn’t strong enough to force one on it. He didn’t dare walk through it or even stab a claw into it.

The wailing continued. Other Silent in a range of races and species were scattered up and down the long boundary between the darkness and the Dream. Some conversed in pairs or groups. Others simply stared. No one crossed into the wailing black. Whispers murmured in the background, somehow still audible over the noise. The Dream was always full of whispers. Padric noted several humans among the Silent and carefully turned his head so he couldn’t see them.

“It grows,” KellReech murmured. “I don’t know what to make of it.”

“Has anyone tried to cross it?” Padric asked.

“I have heard nothing of such an attempt,” KellReech replied. She reached down to touch his head, unusual for her. “On the other side are nineteen planets with Silent. They are either surrounded by this or they are inside it. I can’t sense them, this much I know.”

Padric concentrated for a moment, but it quickly became obvious that he wouldn’t be able to sense anything beyond the boundary either. For a moment he thought he heard a faint cry under the wailing. He peered ahead, trying to see better. There was a brief flicker, like something flitting at the corner of his eye. Padric craned his neck. For a second he was sure he had seen a human woman amid the chaos. He caught a glimpse of long black hair and an impression of youth. She was…dancing? Then she was gone.

“Did you see that?” he asked KellReech urgently. “The human girl?”

“I saw her,” KellReech replied, her hand still on his head. “What does it mean?”

“I don’t know.”

“I will go consult with others.” KellReech took her hand from Padric’s head and vanished without another word. Padric backed further away from the red-streaked darkness, then gathered his concentration. Obediently his mind conjured up a picture of a spartan stone hall with pillars and a satin reclining couch. He was here but he wished to be there.

A small wrench, and he was standing in the pillared hall, exactly as he had imagined it. The blackness was far away, a smudge on the horizon visible through one glassless window, and from this distance he couldn’t hear the painful wail. Padric forced himself to set thoughts of the ongoing disaster for the moment, knowing KellReech would tell him of anything she found. There were other things he had to consider. He jumped onto the satin couch and worked at the soft cloth with his paws.

So his information had been right-Mother Adept Araceil was a person to watch and it had been worth every moment spent spying on her. Another wave of excitement washed over Padric and he actually began to purr. He had heard the rumors of a powerful Silent, of course, and his information had told him the boy was on a planet within the Empire of Human Unity. However, the idea of a Silent who could control the unwilling and non-Silent was…well, it was a dream come true.

A thought struck him. Was the boy responsible for the black place? He considered the idea for a moment. Doubtful. The disturbance had the feel of many minds, not just one. Was it his project, then? Padric would have to get hold of Dr. Jillias Say on Rust and find out quickly. Meanwhile, it would be best to get his hands on the boy. It would it spell disaster if the Unity got hold of Padric was sinking into the couch. Startled, he tried to stand up, but the cushions pulled him down as if they were made of quicksand. He panicked for a moment, then struggled free of the couch with a sucking sound and flopped ignominiously to the cool marble floor. Beside him, the couch melted into black mush. Padric scrambled to his feet and leaped away from it, claws scrabbling on the smooth floor. The remains of the couch hissed and bubbled like a pitch cauldron, spreading dark ooze across the floor. The ooze ate into the floor, chuckling to itself as if it were alive. It threw up a dank, moldy smell redolent of rotten vegetables.

Then came the screams. A dozen, perhaps a hundred voices, all in pain, all wailing like a cold wind. It came from every direction, tearing at skin and nerves. Padric had to leave the Dream, and quickly, but the screams made it hard to concentrate. A column pressed cold against Padric’s side. He leaned against it, trying to take in its solidity and ignore the chuckling that oozed steadily toward him. The horrible wail keened louder. Suddenly Padric was back in the camps, hearing the screams of the other inmates, their cries for help and mercy. He flattened his ears again and yowled in sympathy.

The column shifted against Padric’s fur. He jumped away with a hiss and spun to face it. The white stone bulged with odd shapes. Distorted human forms moved within the rock, stretching and twisting in impossible directions. Eyes bulged and contracted, skin and muscle contorted. An arm broke free with a wet sound and reached for him. Padric scrambled backward. Cold slime washed over his hind feet, oozed between his toes. Padric tried to leap free, but the blackness held him fast. Still chuckling, it crawled up his haunches. A tendril snapped upward and wrapped around his shoulders like an icy snake.

Padric shut his eyes. He was not in danger. He was not going to die. He was Padric Sufur, and he was a master in the Dream. The ooze climbed, engulfing his front legs. Padric forced himself to shut out the horrible keening, the cold slime crawling up his body. It reached his chest and shoulders. Padric inhaled deeply, ignoring the rotten smell and the fact that he couldn’t feel his feet. He was calm. He was in control.

The icy ooze rushed over his head. Padric automatically tried to inhale and choked. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t Padric Sufur’s eyes snapped open and he sat up with a gasp. He flailed wildly about his bed for a moment before realizing that the slime was gone, the wailing silent. He had successfully left the Dream.

Padric wrapped long, thin arms around his chest, acclimating himself to his real shape. It was bony and inefficient. KellReech had a lower center of gravity and more dextrous fingers. Chipk had many legs and eyes and soft brown fur. Padric’s body was mostly hairless and his hands were awkward. His face was lean, unlined, and hawk-like, with a long nose and thin lips. His body was equally lean, with long limbs and hands. Out of the Dream, Padric had allowed a few wrinkles to creep across his face to remind him that, despite appearances, eighty-eight wasn’t young even for a human.

The bedroom had already raised the temperature to the toasty warmth he preferred upon awakening from the Dream, but a chill suffused his bones. Padric’s room was large and spare, furnished with only a bed, endtable, and wardrobe. Like each room in the rest of his home, this one was a clear dome with, in Padric’s considered opinion, the most beautiful view in the universe.

The estate occupied most of an asteroid, and it consisted of a series of above-ground half-bubbles blown from the rock and sand of the asteroid itself and reinforced with clear polymers. Thick carpets went right up to the edge of the dome, where the floor became the pocked surface of the asteroid. If Padric dimmed the lights, making the dome effectively invisible, it looked as if the room were standing in the middle of a vast desert beneath a soft black sky and steady, shining stars. And the gas giant, of course.

The ringed gas giant, which Padric had named Gem, dominated the heavens, and her rainbow surface was often chased by raging storms large enough to engulf entire planets. Padric’s asteroid currently skated the giant’s icy ring, making it look as if a glittering, blue-white road stretched past the horizon. An entire team of what Padric called his “gardeners” did nothing but scan the asteroid’s projected orbit for ring debris and remove anything that might punch a hole in, or even scratch, the domes. It was terribly expensive, especially when the asteroid’s orbit carried it through the ring itself, but the view was well worth it.

Padric sat tailor-fashion on his bed and drummed his fingers thoughtfully on one thigh. His heart had slowed, but a certain tension remained in his gut. The Dream was becoming more and more dangerous. He would have to arrange a meeting with Dr. Say, and quickly.

The bedroom door opened and a large spider-like being scuttled in. A silver tray was balanced expertly on its back, and the delicious smells of sweet rolls and coffee filled the dome. Padric shivered with Dream cold again and all but snatched the coffee mug off the tray. He sipped the bitter warmth gratefully. The spider, meanwhile, set the tray on the nightstand, then stepped back and waved its forward legs and antennae. Padric, adept at the sign language, didn’t need to activate the translator.

“Will you require anything more, sir?” Chipk, the spider, was asking. He was a Kepaar whose had lost status on his homeworld. Padric had hired him, though Chipk had the unnerving habit of referring to it as “buying my soul.”

“The newest reports about the Dream, please,” Padric replied in his own language. He couldn’t speak Kepaarin-not without multi-jointed legs-but Chipk knew Padric’s language perfectly well. It was an equitable arrangement.

“The news has already been downloaded into the room, sir,” Chipk said, and withdrew.

Padric sipped from the mug again. Although coffee was originally a human discovery, it had taken the ministrations of more evolved races to produce the best results, and Padric’s staff always ordered beans that had never touched human hands or soil.

“Meth-pa,” he said, “news. Text format.”

A holographic veiwscreen obediently appeared in front of him and words scrolled down it. There were several stories about Silent who had been caught in strange accidents or fought terrible monsters. Per Grill, a Silent from Bell Star Station, had nearly been swallowed by a giant worm. A pair of Silent involved in a delicate stock market transaction had been hit by a tornado. They described the whirlwind as “screaming at us.”

Nileeja Vo was dead.

Padric gasped and hurriedly re-read the article. Nileeja Vo was-had been-a field recruiter for Dreamers, Inc. Her husbands had found her dead on her couch, a look of terror on her face. According to the newspaper, she had finished a mail transfer within the Dream, and the other Silent, the one receiving the information, had left the Dream just fine. Moments later, something had killed her Dream form, and her body had quickly followed.

Padric put a bony hand over his mouth as he read. A small bit of sorrow clotted his throat. He had met Nileeja Vo at the same time he had met KellReech. Padric remembered squatting in the filthy camp barrack when a strange being entered, flanked by two guards. The being was short and scaly, with long graceful fingers. It moved through the room, touching each inmate and moving on without speaking. Padric watched in wary fascination until the creature came to him. When its fingers brushed his bare shoulder, a jolt flashed down his spine.

“This one,” the being said.

The guards took Padric by the upper arms and full-blown terror burst upon him. He struggled and fought until one of the guards cracked him across the head with a baton. The world went dark.

When he awoke with an ache in his head and nausea in his stomach, the short creature was standing next to him. It occurred to Padric that he was lying on a bed, a soft one. The creature pressed something against his arm. There was a soft thump, and the headache and nausea vanished.

“Who are you?” Padric asked.

The creature smiled with its wide mouth. “My name is KellReech,” it said.

The door opened, and another being walked in. This one was over two meters tall and willowy with enormous black eyes, a shock of wild white hair, and rough brown skin. It carried a food tray. An appetizing smell filled the room and Padric’s mouth watered. He sat up and saw that he was dressed in clean pajamas. His body also felt clean, though he hadn’t bathed in months. The willowy creature set the tray in Padric’s lap. He instantly shoveled food into his mouth, not even stopping to examine or taste it.

“This is my colleague Nileeja Vo,” KellReech said. “And we represent Dreamers, Inc.”

While Padric bolted his food, KellReech explained further. New Prague, Padric’s planet, had been invaded and taken over by the One World Regime without any formal declaration of war. New Prague was now an official protectorate of the Regime, and random segments of its population were alternately enslaved or put into the work camps. That much Padric knew, though he didn’t stop eating long enough to say so.

KellReech went on to explain that Dreamers, Inc. was a separate entity, a private corporation that provided Dream communication at competitive prices to anyone who had the means to pay for it. Dreamers, Inc. was always on the lookout for more Silent, and they had bribed the regeant of the camp for the privilege of combing the inmates for any Silent the Regime might have missed. They had found Padric.

Padric took a long pull from a large glass of milk, though he listened carefully to every word. There would be a catch somewhere, he was certain of it. In the camps, no one did anything for free.

Nileeja sat on the foot of Padric’s bed, and he spared enough attention to see what his surroundings were. He was in a small room with metal walls and a carpeted floor. A ship? The room contained only his bed, an endtable, and a single chair. Nileeja smelled faintly like crushed grass.

“You to be free now, Padric,” Nileeja said in a soft, soothing voice. “This mean you to have choices. You to tell us you to want walk away right now, and we to take you wherever you want to go. No obligation. Or you to join Dreamers, Inc.”

She went on to explain that Dreamers, Inc. would train Padric to use his Silence at their extensive and highly-advanced facility, though not for free. Upon completion of his training, he could either work for Dreamers, Inc. with living costs paid and salary going to pay off debts, or he could strike out on his own and give a portion of his earnings to Dreamers, Inc. until the debt was paid.

Padric sucked crumbs off his fingertips and promptly chose to join. What other choice did he have? KellReech and Nileeja Vo nodded their approval and told him to sleep.

Padric later learned there were no other humans aboard the Quiet Dreamer, though there were a dozen other aliens, all different, all Silent. The Dreamer was on a long-term recruiting mission and wouldn’t return to headquarters for several months. During that time, it became obvious that something had to be done about Padric. He suffered terrible nightmares. He stole from the crew and new recruits. He told lies, and once he even set fire to his mattress. Eventually, KellReech started meeting with him on a daily basis to talk. Padric later learned that KellReech had been reading books on human psychology, though she admitted to Nileeja that some of it was hard to grasp. Still, she did her best.

“Of course,” KellReech said during one session. “You are angry. You are in pain from what your fellow humans did to you. You hate them for it, and you hate yourself.”

At first, Padric didn’t want to talk to her at all, and KellReech wisely did not threaten to withdraw Dreamers, Inc.’s offer if he didn’t behave. Eventually, after much coaxing, Padric did talk to her. He told her about the camps and the guards, talked about how he had stolen from other inmates and informed on some of them to get better treatment for himself.

“You feel guilty about what you did,” KellReech said. “But the urge to survive is a strong instinct among humans. You did what you had to do, and it’s normal to feel guilt and hatred. It’s normal to hate yourself and other humans.”

When the ship reached the moon that served as the headquarters for Dreamers, Inc., Padric’s training began. Once he finished, Padric elected to go freelance and send a portion of his wages back to Dreamers to pay off the debts and interest incurred by his rescue and training, but he still retained several contacts with the company, including KellReech. He had fallen out of touch with Nileeja Vo, however, and hadn’t laid eyes on her in over thirty years.

Now she was dead.

Sorrow washed over Padric. He sat silent for a moment, then ordered the computer to make a sizeable donation in her name to whatever charity Nileeja’s family might deem appropriate. The computer would route the order to Padric’s own team of Silent, who would go into the Dream, contact his bank-literally Padric’s bank-and authorize them to transfer the funds to a bank on Nileeja’s world. The Silent who worked for Padric’s bank would contact the Silent who worked for the bank on Nileeja’s world, and they would accept the transfer. Padric’s bank would deduct the amount of money from his account, and the other bank would add the amount to theirs. Transaction completed.

Padric, meanwhile, still on his bed, swallowed his sorrow a bit more easily that he thought he should. On the other hand, he hadn’t seen Nileeja Vo in three decades. With a heavy sigh he turned back to the news. Several articles mentioned the blackness. Dreamers, Inc. and the Children of Irfan, among others, had declared the situation a full-blown emergency and had set task forces to studying the problem. Padric reached thoughtfully for a sweet roll. If this was indeed the result of the project, he would need to keep the fact under wraps for a while longer. Maybe he could put some quiet pressure on Dreamers, Inc. to slow their investigation. The Children of Irfan would be harder to deal with, but he’d come up with something.

Meanwhile, he needed more information.

“Meth-pa,” he said, “search for ‘Empire of Human Unity’ or ‘Unity,’ capital u, and ‘Silent,’ capital s. Exclude news released by the Empire of Human Unity itself.”

“No matches,” the computer reported.

“Meth-pa, search for names ‘Sejal’ and ‘Araceil Rymar.’ Include Unity news releases.”

“No matches.”

Padric nodded. These were telling facts. The Unity was keeping its mouth shut about Araceil and Sejal. That either meant the boy was so worthless he wasn’t worth mentioning or that he was so valuable, the Unity didn’t want word of his existence to leak out. Considering what Araceil had said, Padric took the latter point of view. Now Sejal, this valuable resource, was free and at large. Padric would have paid serious money to see the expression on Unity Premier Yuganovi’s face when he learned a ragtag bunch of monks had gotten the better of him.

Another sip of coffee, and some of the chill left Padric’s bones. Sejal was an incalculably valuable asset to whoever controlled him. Besides, if one project failed, it was best to have another.

“Meth-pa, begin transcript of Dream session. Label ‘Sejal’ and cross-reference by date and time.”

“Recording.”

Padric set down his coffee, took a deep, calming breath, and slipped into a light trance. Word for word, he dictated the conversation he had overheard between Araceil and the messenger to Empress Kan maja Kalii.

“Meth-pa,” he said when he was done, “how long would it take my slipship to reach the planet Bellerophon?”

“Approximately six days, two hours.”

And Sejal would reach Bellerophon in eleven days. That gave him five days to plan. Padric picked up his cup, which had kept the coffee hot for him, took a sip, and quite literally stared into space.