Trickster

CHAPTER FOUR

"The Collection has three department heads and one manager," Todd said dreamily. "The manager's name is Edsard Roon. He answers directly to the Board at Silent Acquisitions. Board and room, I think. I wanted a pony in my room when I was little, but-"

"Who are the three department heads for the Collection?" Kendi interrupted.

"Rafille Mallory is Chief of Security. I've only talked to her once. Once upon a time there lived three-"

"Who else is a department head?"

"Elena Papagos-Faye is Chief of Information Services, which means she does the computer stuff. Do you think she could get me a deal on-"

"Who else?" Kendi asked with a mental sigh. The problem with hypnoral, besides the fact that it was damned expensive, was that it tended to unhook the brain-to-mouth filter. The person didn't so much babble as flit from one subject to another, and it was a challenge to keep Todd on topic. On the other hand, hypnoral had no side-effects and was easy to use.

Todd was currently lying on the medical bay bed, arms at his sides, eyes on the white ceiling. His pupils were wide and dark, and a medical monitor strip clung to his forehead. Harenn stood nearby, one eye on Todd himself and the other on the data pad that tracked his vital signs. Ben sat in a chair at the foot of Todd's bed. The lights overhead were harsh and white.

"Ken Jeung heads up Research," Todd said. "He's the last department head. Jeung's a doctor, and he's doing genetic and medical stuff, but I don't know exactly what. There's a lot I don't know. I don't know how many elephants there are on Earth or how much the slavers sold my children for or-"

"What's the computer security like?" Ben interrupted.

"Solid. You can only access Collection computers on the Collection's private network. The network is isolated from the rest of the station. I have access, but only at a basic level. The higher up you go, the tighter security gets. Only the department heads can access the high-level functions, and those are guarded by prints and keys. Did you ever notice that prints and prince are pronounced the same even though they're spelled-"

"Quiet, Todd," Kendi ordered, and Todd fell silent. "What's the matter, Ben? You can hack this, right? We need high-level computer access to pull this off."

Ben's head was in his hands. "It's an isolated key-and-print system. We're screwed."

"What is a key-and-print system?" Harenn asked.

"It's a system where you need two things to get access-an authorized thumbprint and a matching key. You scan the thumb and slot the key. If you try to get access with only one of them, the system shuts down and shouts for help. If you have the wrong key or print, the system shuts down shouts for help. Key-and-print systems are absolutely impossible to hack unless you have world-class hacking programs, the kind of stuff a major government might have. I don't have anything remotely close to that kind of power." This last he said with a kind of horrified awe.

"No system is unbreakable," Kendi said, trying to hold on to optimism. "I think Lucia can make an artificial thumb from a latent print. That won't be hard. What are the keys like?"

"Each one looks like a small cylinder about the size of your little finger," Ben said. "It contains a chip with rotating, one-use algorithms that are keyed to one person's unique thumbprint. The thumbprint provides the key to the chip's algorithm. Print and key together create the access code for the computer." He ran a hand through his hair. "But it gets worse."

"How?" Kendi asked.

"Todd said the system is isolated. It isn't connected to the SA Station's network, which means that even we somehow got a synthetic thumb and a key, I wouldn't be able to do anything with them unless I got into the Collection itself and accessed a Collection computer."

Kendi tried to keep his heart from sinking. "Well, we need high-level computer access so we'll have get our hands on the keys. We'll worry about actual access later." He turned back to Todd. "Tell me about the keys."

"They go everywhere," Todd said. "I screwed Elena Papagos-Faye-or maybe she screwed me-and she told me her key stays with her all the time. The department heads have to report a missing key and that means all four of them have to get new keys and the system is physically shut down until that's taken care of. If they ever take their key off, they have to hide it someplace secure. I know because Elena took hers off before we got into bed and she hid it somewhere but I never saw where. She was a real monster in the sack. She made me kneel between her-"

"Shut up, Todd," Kendi ordered.

"Perhaps we should have him recount his adventure in detail," Harenn said. "It could prove useful as fodder for blackmail."

"Later," Kendi said. "Ben, can the keys be copied?"

Ben thought about that. "Maybe. But it would involve getting our hands on each key long enough to copy it. And if any of the four department heads suspected something, they'll shut the system down and get new keys."

Harenn tapped her data pad. "The hypnoral is wearing off. If you have more questions, you should ask them now before we give him new memories."

"I don't have any at the moment," Kendi said. He leaned closer to Isaac Todd. The harsh smell of hypnoral hung about him. "Todd, when you wake up, you will remember taking a long nap, and nothing more. You will not remember talking to us here and you will not remember answering any questions. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Todd replied languidly.

"You will, however, remember having a terrifying nightmare that froze your very soul," Harenn put in. "The nightmare will involve a hospital bed and many needles. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Kendi reached down and closed Todd's eyes. Almost immediately, the man began to snore. Ben turned to Harenn. "Was that necessary?" he asked.

"No," was all Harenn said.

The Poltergeist popped out of slipspace, and Lucia dePaolo said a small prayer of thanks to Irfan as she always did upon a successful exit. Less than a second later, her flight board was cluttered with long slices of flashing text and urgent messages ordering her to come no closer to SA Station without agreeing to the terms in the attached contract. In the captain's chair, Father Kendi puffed out his cheeks and activated his data pad. Lucia sent over a copy of the contract and the pad beeped in acknowledgment. Father Kendi tapped the tiny computer, ordering it to compare the current contract with the one in the monastery database.

"They haven't substantially altered the stupid thing since the last time I was here," he mused. "I was hoping they'd have dropped the whole issue, what with the Despair and all."

"No such luck," Gretchen said from her own station.

Father Kendi shook his head. "They're still expecting us to hand over fifty percent of everything we earn while on the station and a controlling interest in the ship. And then there's that DNA clause. 'Party of the first part agrees to assign to the party of the second part all rights to the party of the first part's DNA and first work derived therefrom.' They have to be the only corporation around that literally wants you to sign over your firstborn child. Do they honestly think anyone's going to fall for it?"

"Enough people must," Gretchen replied, "since they keep asking."

"Well, at least it means the database's strike list is still valid. You have it, Lucia?"

"Yes, Father."

"Merge the list with the contract and send the whole thing back."

Lucia prepared the new contract-there was no indication anywhere on the original that Silent Acquisitions even considered counter-offers-and sent it. It came back a few moments later with the message, "Final terms accepted. You may dock at loading bay XC-14539-MAL. All appropriate charges apply."

"We're set, Father."

"Then find the bay and let's dock."

Lucia punched up course information and laid it in. Before her, the viewscreen showed a view of the station itself. The sight was disconcerting, even though Lucia had visited the place twice before. SA Station orbited a star, not a planet, and as a result there was nothing nearby to give the station real scale. Part of the problem lay in its irregular shape. Like many stations, SA Station was a hodge-podge of parts and pieces. Bits had been stuck on as required over time, and Silent Acquisitions had been in business for a long time indeed. The station's volume easily matched that of a pair of good-sized moons, or even a tiny planet. It turned slowly in its orbit, a clunky, uneven lattice designed by a drunken spider. Between the uneven shape and the lack of orbital bodies in the immediate area, Lucia wanted to see the station as toy-sized. And then a tiny, tiny grain of sand would skitter across in front of it, and Lucia would realize it was a cargo vessel big enough to transport an entire pod of Bellerophon dinosaurs. It was like watching a picture of a young woman turn into an old hag and back again. The whole thing made her seasick, so she dropped her eyes to the instrument panel and concentrated on following course and flying the ship.

Conversation died away, and a strained silence filled the bridge. Lucia heard a faint tapping-Father Kendi drumming his fingers against the arm of his chair. Eagerness and tension radiated off him, and Lucia suppressed an urge to give him advice about the serenity of Irfan. It wouldn't be her place. Instead, Lucia tried to hurry without compromising ship safety.

Despite long hours spent in meditation and weeks of constant exposure to him, Lucia's awe of Father Kendi Weaver hadn't lessened. Every time she saw him, she couldn't help but remember that he had been instrumental in saving the entire universe. It was he who had held back Padric Sufur's malformed children in the Dream, kept them at bay long enough for Vidya and Prasad Vajhur to put their twisted solid-world bodies into cryo-sleep and end the Despair. True, there were other heroes of the Despair. Ben Rymar had saved Kendi's life and thereby allowed Kendi to save the Dream. Sejal Dasa, son of Vidya and Prasad, had fought Sufur's children to a standstill. But Ben was so unassuming, and Lucia had never met Sejal or Vidya and Prasad. Kendi, however, was something else entirely. He looked like a hero-tall and handsome and confident, giving his commands in a firm, clear voice.

Did she have a crush on him?

No. Most definitely not. That wouldn't be her place, either.

A slight thump reverberated through the bridge and an indicator light on Lucia's board flashed. "Docking complete, Father," she reported.

"Great. I'll get started on the forms-oh joy-and the rest of you can stretch your legs until we get clearance to disembark. After the customs team leaves, I'll want everyone in the galley for a briefing. Got it?"

"I'll spread the word, Chief," Gretchen said, rising and heading for the door.

Lucia stretched with a popping of joints. Every part in her body felt stiff and achy after hours of piloting. She nodded to Father Kendi, who was already muttering to the forms on his data pad, and left the bridge. Apparently even heroes couldn't escape paperwork.

Lucia's ocular implant flashed the time across her retina. She had five minutes to make it to her quarters before daily ritual. A hurried descent in the lift, a light jog down another corridor, and she was entering her own rooms.

As the newest member of the crew, Lucia rated the smallest quarters on the ship. Living room barely big enough to turn around in, bedroom not much wider than her single bunk, efficiency bathroom, no kitchen. Lucia didn't really mind. The place did have a decent-sized window. At the moment, the view was currently black, star-strewn space. Every so often a point of light crept across the void-a ship or a shuttle. Flat pictures and full holograms covered every inch of wall space. People smiled, waved, made faces, or struck silly poses, and all of them bore similar features. Lucia had six brothers and sisters, a dozen aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews galore, and cousins beyond counting. She smiled fondly at a photo of her parents taken not long after their marriage. They were sitting on a porch swing holding hands. She would have to write them a letter soon, see if Ben would be willing to relay it to Bellerophon through the Dream. There was so much to tell them, though she knew Dad would be a little unnerved when he heard how close she and the others had come to getting caught while rescuing Bedj-ka. She could almost hear his voice, unsettled but touched with pride all the same: " You're just a little kid! My baby girl! You're going to give your poor old dad a heart attack one of these days with these adventures of yours! "

An alarm chimed softly and Lucia shook herself. It was time. Two steps took Lucia to the tiny altar set just below the window. On it stood a small statue of Irfan Qasad carved from smooth white marble. Her features bore a peaceful serenity that calmed Lucia whenever she saw them. In the statue's left hand was a scroll, symbol of communication. The statue's right hand was raised in a gesture of beckoning. Leaves and ivy were etched into her clothing, and a double-helix strand of DNA wound around her upraised arm. At the statue's feet sat a small gold platter and three squat candles. Lucia picked up a striker and lit the first candle.

"Great Lady, let the winds and the oceans, the nights and days, the Dream and the world, be all sweet to us." She lit the second candle. "Wondrous Mother, let us follow the path of your goodness for always, like the stars and planets moving in the sky. " She lit the third candle. "Guide and Goddess, let us know and appreciate the points of view of others. You who are the wise and benevolent lady of speech, shower your blessings on us that we may continue your work."

Lucia took up a stick of incense and lit it from one of the candles. The soft, sweet smoke stole over her, and she felt her muscles relax under the familiar ritual, one she had been performing since childhood. She pressed the base of the statue, and a quiet music filled the room like gentle bells. When the song faded, it seemed to Lucia that a quiet, benign presence filled the room and her heart. Lucia breathed a greeting.

"Welcome, Great Mother, and hear my prayer," she murmured. "Thank you for returning Bedj-ka to Harenn and for granting her the happiness she deserves. Let us find Father Kendi's brother and sister. Let them remain safe and whole until we can bring them to the safety of your bosom. Keep my family safe and well. Let Narmi's pregnancy go well and touch her child with your blessings. Distract the evil Vik and keep him from tainting our lives with his foul presence."

Lucia paused and took a deep breath, trying to remain calm while saying difficult words. Her throat threatened to close anyway. "And please, Great Lady, do not withdraw the blessing of Silence from your people. Do not allow your servants to scatter like the wind. The Children of Irfan do great good in the universe, and it would be wrong to let them fade away. I beg you, Kind One, to grant my Silent brethren entry into the Dream once again. I give thanks for your blessings and pray for your wisdom. Your will be in all."

She waited a moment, inhaling sweet smoke and mumming a soft chant. Irfan would not let her children die away. She was good and kind, a force for order and justice. Lucia simply had to have faith everything would work out. There was nothing else she could do. Several long breaths later, Irfan's peace and serenity settled over Lucia like a well-worn blanket. She sighed heavily. Everything would be fine, as long as she kept her faith.

Lucia picked up a small silver snuffer, put out the candles, and doused the incense. A few moments later she was down in the galley rummaging through the cabinets and refrigerator for sandwich fixings. She had already set an enormous pot of coffee on to brew, and the rich smell quickly permeated the room. Lucia's scarred hands laid out new loaves of brioche, thin-sliced ham, hard salami, crunchy water cress, sweet peppers, spicy benyai leaves, cheddar cheese, and an assortment of sauces ranging from milky-mild to tongue-blisteringly sharp. The Children of Irfan might be a monastic order, but the monks didn't practice asceticism in food or in living arrangements. The Pathway Church of Irfan didn't require it, either, and for this Lucia was grateful.

"At it again, I see," came Ben Rymar's gentle voice from the galley door. Lucia turned to face him.

"As Irfan so perfectly put it," she replied with a smile, " 'If I don't, who will?' "

"Definitely not me." Ben leaned casually against the doorframe. "Cooking is the anti-Irfan, as far as I'm concerned."

Lucia shook her head. "It's fun, you heathen."

"I'm glad someone thinks so," Ben said. "Mom didn't cook, either, and sometimes I think Kendi would be happy eating grubs torn from a rotten log. Ever since you joined the crew, we've been eating high off the hog."

"Thank you, kind sir," Lucia said, pretending to simper. "Just send Harenn the finder's fee for bringing me here."

Ben pulled up a chair and sat facing Lucia over the back. Lucia finished slicing bread, then dealt the round pieces out on the counter like cards and began piling generous portions of sandwich fixings on them. She felt comfortable with Ben in the galley, as if one of her brothers were stopping in for a visit.

"You and Harenn are pretty good friends," Ben observed. "How did you two ever hook up, anyway? I never heard."

Lucia picked up a bowl of sauce and a plastic spreader. "You know that I'm a licensed private investigator, right?" When Ben nodded, she went on. "Harenn hired me to look for Bedj-ka because I'm also a pilot and could more easily check out other planets. I wasn't able to find him, obviously, but Harenn and I got along really well. We'd both been jilted by our husbands, so we already had something in common."

"You used to be married?" Ben said. "I didn't know that."

"I was very young and it didn't last long," Lucia said. "One day Jax up and ran off. No reason, no explanation, nothing. Just divorce papers served from a distance. Later I found out Jax had been sleeping with some bimbina even before he and I got engaged." She thwacked an onion in half. "Men are pigs."

"Oink."

Lucia laughed. "Sorry. Sometimes I forget that you're a… I mean… oh, dear."

"Right."

"Anyway," Lucia hurried on, "Harenn and I became friends. Good thing, too-the PI business was getting a little thin even before the Despair came along. These days my one-woman agency exists only on paper. My contract with the Children is the only thing keeping me from having to move back in with my family. I love them, but they're a big and noisy bunch."

Ben nodded and Lucia thought she saw a hint of… envy?… in his eyes. Maybe she was wrong. What could she possibly have that Ben might envy?

"So," Lucia said, briskly slathering sauce over selected slices, "how did you and Father Kendi get together, anyway? If it's not too private to ask, I mean."

"It's not." Ben rested his chin on the back of the chair. "But it's a long story. Short version is that we met because Kendi was my mom's student. We were both teenagers."

"Love at first sight?" Lucia said.

Ben snorted. "Not quite. It took me forever to figure out how I felt about him. Even after I did, things weren't easy between us. We were on-again, off-again for years. Mom smacked me upside the head a few times about that, but I didn't really admit to myself how much Kendi meant-means-to me until the Despair hit. Sometimes I think you have to lose something, or almost lose it, to understand how precious it is." He paused, then said abruptly, "Do you ever worry about the Children of Irfan becoming extinct? I know Kendi does."

Lucia's thoughts instantly rushed back to her prayers. "I sometimes worry. But never for long."

"Why not?"

"Irfan would never allow her Children to die out," Lucia said firmly.

At that moment Father Kendi poked his head into the galley. "Lucia, you don't have to do this every time we have a briefing, you know."

Lucia blinked. "Do you want me not to? Isn't the food any good?"

"It's great, Lucia," Father Kendi said. His presence seemed to fill the entire galley. "But it's a lot of extra work for you. I mean, newest crew does the cooking for regular meals, but this goes above and beyond."

"She says she likes doing it," Ben put in, "if you can believe that."

"I do like it," Lucia said. "Besides," she added, greatly daring, "you're all too thin. Eat!"

Ben and Father Kendi laughed and Lucia calmly went back to her pile of sandwiches.

Gretchen and Harenn, chatting amiably, arrived in the galley a moment later and sat down at the round table just off the cooking area. Ben and Father Kendi joined them. Harenn poured herself some coffee. Lucia set the finished sandwiches on a large platter, brought them to the table, and took a seat next to Harenn. Everyone reached for generous portions and pronounced them excellent. Lucia nodded at the praise, then shot a sidelong glance at Harenn. It still seemed strange to see her without her veil in public. Lucia had, of course, been in Harenn's home any number of times and had seen her unveil there, but never anywhere else. It was a welcome sight, though, and Lucia was glad beyond measure that Bedj-ka's return had allowed it to happen.

"And how's Bedj-ka?" Lucia asked.

Harenn sipped cream-laden coffee with a faintly distracted smile. "He seems happy, as am I. Bedj-ka thinks it exciting to live on a slipship, and I find that it refreshes my own enthusiasm to watch him see things for the first time. He insists on assisting me with the engines and maintenance, and it is touching the way he tries so hard to help."

"Maybe he'll be an engineer like his mother," Lucia said.

"Perhaps." Her smile grew wistful. "He is certainly intelligent enough. He can already run four basic diagnostic programs and-"

"You sound just like my mother when she boasts about my brothers and sisters and me," Lucia interrupted with a chuckle. "Next you'll be whipping holos out of your pocket to show around."

Harenn's brown cheeks darkened. "I have already made several. Would you like to see them?"

Before Lucia could reply, Father Kendi set his data pad on the table and called for order. Lucia instantly gave him her full attention.

"Todd told us where the Collection is housed," he began, "so let's start there." Father Kendi tapped the pad and a hologram of the station sprang into being above the tabletop. "We got lucky. We're docked here-" one part of the station glowed green "-and the Collection is housed here." Another part of the station glowed red. "It's only one section over, so it's not hard to get to from our dock. The first thing we need is a basic recon. Todd gave me some information, but there was a lot he didn't know." More taps, and the view of the station zoomed in tighter, becoming a cutaway of a section of corridor.

"According to Todd, the Collection is almost completely isolated from the rest of the station," Father Kendi continued. "It's on a block that sticks out from the main structure, and the only way to get to it from the station itself is by this corridor. There are several automated checkpoints along the way, when a computer checks your face, your prints, and your identification holo."

"No retina checks?" Gretchen asked.

"Too easy to fake these days," Ben said. "An amateur can get your retina scan from a distance with nothing but a halfway decent camera. Same goes for infra-red heat patterns."

"The Collection," Father Kendi continued, "also has a set of escape pods and two private air locks, but I don't think they'll do us much good-it's damned hard to sneak into an airlock." He paused and took a sip of coffee. "One of the first things we need to learn is what the daily routines are. Ben, I want you and Lucia to set up surveillance on the corridor to do just that. Gretchen, you and Harenn need to find out all you can about the routines of Edsard Roon and the three department heads when they aren't at the Collection. Look at where they live, when they usually arrive at work, any habits they have. We need to figure out how to get our hands on their keys, and any detail, no matter how tiny, might be a help. Lucia, if we lift prints from objects the department heads touch, you can make an artificial thumb that would fool a computer scanner, right?"

"Yes, Father," Lucia said. "The best prints will come from something smooth, like a glass or cup, but I can work with harsher stuff."

Father Kendi nodded. "Good. Ben, what about copying the keys?"

"I've been working on that, and I think I can do it." Ben held up a small silver box the size of a pack of playing cards. "I've been modifying one of the copycats. If I pull this off, all you'll have to do is connect the data port of the key to the data port on this. It'll copy the algorithms and I can make a duplicate key from them."

"How long will the download take?" Father Kendi asked.

"Not long. I'm guessing less than thirty seconds. The trick, like you said, will be getting the keys away from the department heads and then returning each one without anyone noticing."

"That's what I'll be working on," Father Kendi said grimly. "Once we have all the information we can glean, I'll get a plan together. Any questions?"

There were none. As the group rose from the table, Lucia swallowed a final bite of spicy sandwich and Ben put a light hand on her shoulder.

"Let's go play with some toys," he said.

Warmth. Softness. Voices. Whispers. Martina Weaver lay in shifting shadows and semi-darkness. Occasional colors flickered around her and she studied them with great interest. From time to time she felt like she was floating, and then she would be lying on something solid again. It was like trying to enter the Dream but being caught adrift in the moment before it solidified around her.

After what was neither a long nor a short time, the darkness began to brighten. Martina became aware that she was lying on a soft bed with a pillow under her head. The ceiling above her was the color of warm sunshine. A round-cheeked woman with a wide, smiling mouth, and a scattering of freckles on her face was looking down at her. She wore a dark green wimple over her hair and forehead. A high, white collar came all the way up to her chin, and her green robe reached all the way to the floor. Her hands were gloved in green. But for the color of her robe and the gloves, Martina would have thought she was a Catholic nun.

"Greet the Dream, Alpha," the woman said cheerfully. "Good to see you awake."

A dermospray made a familiar thump against Martina's arm and the room settled with startling abruptness. She sat up, fully awake and alert, and glanced at her surroundings. Sunlight poured into a window overlooking a tree-studded valley. Green plants hung about the room and stood in pots on the carpeted floor. A desk and chair sat below the window and a comfortable-looking sofa and chair made a little cluster in one corner. The room also had two sliding doors, both shut, and a wooden wardrobe. Martina shook her head. The last thing she remembered was finishing a series of assignments in the Dream. She had sketched for a while in her room and was thinking about asking if she could have some tea. And then C what? The memories were fuzzy. Had she undressed for bed? She looked down and saw she was wearing unfamiliar yellow pajamas. The silvery slave bands which had first been fitted to her fifteen years ago were still on her wrist and ankle.

"What is this place?" Martina demanded. "How did I get here?"

The woman smiled, making dimples in her plump cheeks. "We rescued you, praise the Dream. You and your compatriot."

"Compatriot?" Martina started to swing her legs around to get off the bed, but the woman put a restraining hand on her shoulder. A lifetime of obedience conditioning took over, and Martina stayed where she was.

"The other Alpha," the woman explained. "I think your oppressors called him Brad."

"I never met him," Martin said. "I heard DrimCom had bought a new Silent, but I didn't-"

"There are no slaves here," the woman interrupted firmly. "No owners, no buying or selling of people. The Silent are chosen, divine, and they can't be bought or sold like simple people."

Martina stared. "Are you saying I'm free?"

"No one owns you," the woman said.

"I can leave?"

The woman smiled her cheerful smile. "Not quite yet. You're just an Alpha, and you aren't strong enough yet."

"What do you mean?" Martina asked. "What's an Alpha? How did I get here? Who are you?"

"Everything in time, dear." The woman patted her arm with a gloved hand. "In the meantime, are you hungry?"

Suddenly Martina was. "Ravenous."

"Then you should eat." The woman tapped a panel on the wall and it slid aside, revealing a legged tray. Delicious smells of meat and gravy filled the room. The woman set the tray across Martina's lap. A generous portion of beef steamed on a plate, surrounded by garden vegetables and a salad accompanied by a small pot of tea. Martina ate quickly-the meat was perfectly done and tender.

"My name is Delta Maura," the woman said. Her voice was low and warm. "I'm your counselor, and I'll help repair the damage that's been done to you."

"Damage?" Martina said with her mouth full.

"The damage done to you while you were a slave." Delta Maura patted Martina's shoulder. "It must have been horrible, dear. No one should have to live through something like that."

Martina set down her fork. "Are you a Child of Irfan? Is this Bellerophon?"

"No, dear. You'll learn more about who we are when it's time. For now, you only need to rest. Enjoy yourself. You have computer access, including games and books. If you need something else, use the computer to send a note to the Personal Needs Adjustor." She patted Martina's hand, and Martina found herself growing annoyed at all the patting. "I have to leave now, but if you want to talk to me, just say so and the computer will let me know."

With that, she left. The door slid shut behind her, and Martina was sure she heard the click of a lock. Martina set the tray aside, got out of bed, and tried to open the door. It had no lock plate, only a slot for a keycard. Martina tried to push the door open. It didn't budge. Martina looked down at her feet. A slave band still encircled her ankle, just as it did her wrist. If she were free, why was she still shackled and kept in a locked room? She felt uneasy, and the meat she had eaten seemed to coagulate in her stomach.

First things first, she decided, and set out to explore the room.

The window turned out to be a holographic display. Tapping it changed the view, and the choices ranged from ocean bottom to forest floor to desert dunes to lunar surface. She set it back on the original valley and opened the wardrobe. The clothes inside-none of them from her room back with DrimCom-consisted of several sets of loose yellow tunics and trousers. Two pairs of yellow slippers were on the floor. A set of yellow gloves hung from a hook. Martina changed out of her pajamas, though she didn't don the gloves. Feeling less vulnerable now that she was dressed, she opened the second door and discovered a well-appointed bathroom complete with toilet, sink, enormous tub, and separate shower. The cabinets contained a variety of toiletries.

Back in the main room, she learned that the furniture was comfortable and that the compartment Delta Maura had taken the food from seemed to be some kind of dumbwaiter. Martina put the food tray back inside it, closed the door, and heard a faint hum. When she opened the little door again, there was nothing on the other side but a blank wall.

The computer did indeed have a variety of games, but all of them were holographic or flat-screen. There were no virtual reality sims. The library was fairly extensive, but all the books were ones she had never heard of. There was no non-fiction. Nothing she saw contained any clue as to where she was or who owned this place.

It took Martina a moment to realize there was no clock in the room and no clock function on the computer. How long had she been drugged? She had no idea. It could have been a few hours or several days. Even weeks, for all she knew.

Martina perched on the edge of the couch, baffled. Was she a prisoner or a guest? Had she been kidnapped or rescued? She felt off-balance and uncertain. Abruptly she wished for her sketchbook and a pencil. Were her art supplies still at DrimCom? Would she ever see them again?

Martina wasn't worried about being in physical danger. If these people had intended to hurt or kill her, they would have done so already. Plus she was one of the few Silent left in the galaxy who could still reach the Dream, someone far too valuable to harm. If they gave her access to her drugs, she could even get into the Dream and shout for help. Even now she could hear the faint whispers around her, whispers she had begun hearing not long after she had been snatched from the colony ship and sold into slavery.

It was a part of Martina's life that she didn't like to think about, but every so often she had terrible nightmares about that terrible day, about someone snatching her out of cryo-sleep on a colony ship and hauling her, cold and shivering, into a smelly, tiny room aboard a slave ship. Her father and mother had been there, at least, as had been her older brothers Evan and Keith. All of them were descended from Australian Aborigines, but Aboriginal culture in Australia had been almost completely lost by the time the terrible droughts came and the Outback desert had spread even into the farmlands. In an attempt to rediscover their roots, a group of Aboriginal descendants had banded together to form the Real People Reconstructionists. Martina had only been four or five when her parents joined the group, and her early memories of the RPR involved long walks outside, meditation exercises, and eating really strange foods. Keith, her oldest brother, had gone for the RPR in a big way, even going so far as to change his name to Utang, which he claimed was an old Aboriginal word for "strength." Evan, her other brother, had hated every aspect of the RPR, but he had especially loathed the trips to the Outback when they all went on walkabout.

A few years later, the government had announced that it was sponsoring a giant colony ship to relieve Australia's population burden. The journey would take hundreds of years, but the colonists would spend the entire journey in cryo-sleep. The Real People Reconstructionists had petitioned to be included so they could at last rediscover the ways of the Real People on a new world, and the government had agreed. Keith-Utang-had been wildly excited. Evan had been furious. Martina, barely ten years old then, remembered being uncertain about going but feeling reassured that her parents and brothers would be there every step of the way.

Now she had no idea if any of them were still alive, or even what their names might be. Martina had gone through three owners, and each one of them had changed her name. Through it all, she had held onto that one piece of herself. No matter what her owners had named her, she still thought of herself as Martina Weaver. Had her family managed the same thing? She had no way of knowing, and had long ago accepted the fact that she would never find out.

Martina paged through the electronic library again, more for something to do than anything else, and discovered she had overlooked a non-fiction book- A True History of the Dream by Dr. Edsard Roon. The title attracted Martina's eye. There were many versions of Irfan Qasad's story, and very few of them agreed on all points. Martina thought it interesting the way different versions conflicted. Her first owner had been a history professor who had bought her as a household servant, and he had allowed Martina to read from his library when she wasn't working. She had read a fair amount, trying to learn what had happened in the centuries her family had been sleeping. Later, when her Silence had surfaced, he had sold her for a tidy profit, but by then she had already acquired a decent background in galactic history.

Martina called up the book, and holographic pages appeared in front of her. The beginning was familiar stuff. Irfan Qasad, captain of a colony ship, arrived at a planet named Bellerophon and become the first human being to meet the alien Ched-Balaar, who had arrived there first. Initially Irfan and her people had been worried that the Ched-Balaar would be hostile, or they'd tell the humans to turn around and go back to Earth, but the aliens had been happy to share their new world, provided the humans fulfill one condition.

Martina blinked. She knew this part. The Ched-Balaar had asked their new neighbors to take part in a religious ceremony. There had been drumming in the forests and a gathering of peoples around a great fire. All the humans had drunk a special wine concocted by the Ched-Balaar, a wine that had sent most of them into a stupor. A handful of people had found themselves in the Dream. Irfan Qasad had been one of them, as had her eventual husband Daniel Vik. Here, however, Dr. Roon's version diverged from what she knew.

The Atashi Records indicate very clearly that the Ched-Balaar, other-worldly beings of great power, selected only certain humans to take the holy nectar while the unworthy received nothing but thin beer. The special humans, chosen by the Ched-Balaar, would undergo a transformation. They would become blessed with Silence, and they would come to rule Bellerophon.

But the Atashi Record also reveals that one human, Daniel Vik, used guile and trickery to learn what the Ched-Balaar were planning for their Chosen, and he also learned that he was not to be among them. This made Vik jealous, and he used more guile to ensure that he would receive a portion of the holy nectar.

When the night of the ceremony came, the Ched-Balaar came in procession through the talltree forests of Bellerophon to the central fire where the humans awaited them, the Chosen on the right and the unworthy on the left. Daniel Vik had been seated with the unworthy, but he approached the mighty Irfan Qasad. In her weakness for his fair face and his silver tongue, she allowed him to sit next to her. Irfan took the bowl of holy nectar from the first Ched-Balaar, drank, and passed the sacred bowl to Vik, who drank and passed it to the other Chosen while the Ched-Balaar chanted and beat their otherwordly rhythms.

Irfan, Vik, and the Chosen fell into a stupor brought on by the holy nectar and the mysterious rhythms. They underwent the transfiguration and ascended to Silence in the Dream. But unknown to them, the DNA in Daniel Vik's saliva had tainted the nectar, leaving it corrupt. Although the Atashi Record is very clear on this, further proof is seen in the fact that Daniel Vik was weak in the Dream; he was never intended to go there in the first place. And none of the other Chosen were as powerful in the Dream as Irfan Qasad, who drank untainted nectar.

Martina paused. This was certainly different from everything else she had read-so different as to be laughable. That Daniel Vik had been a filthy bastard who betrayed his own wife and kidnapped one of his children away from her was widely accepted, but the idea that he had sabotaged the Awakening Ceremony was so radical it crossed the line into ridiculous. This Dr. Roon guy must have been laughed out of every academic hall in existence. And what was the "Atashi Record"? She had never heard of it. Shaking her head, Martina continued reading.

Later, when Irfan's wisdom uncovered Vik's deceit and she attempted to correct his taint with the use of genetic engineering techniques, he opposed her at every side, his silver tongue turning her friends and even some of the mighty Ched-Balaar to his side. This corrupted even Irfan herself, who hid her experiments and produced three Silent children of Vik's issue. All were strong in their Silence, and this angered Vik so much that he became insane. He kidnapped their eldest son and fled her presence.

Still angered beyond reason, Vik next raised an army to try to crush Irfan and the other Chosen. But Irfan entered the Dream and held him at bay until Vik was cut down by one of his own followers.

Irfan and the other Chosen thought they were rid of Vik's taint at last, but such was not to be. His DNA had tainted the Ched-Balaar's holy gift of Silence. Only Irfan herself was pure; all others tainted. And when people learned to make ships that could travel quickly between the stars, they desired the Silent for use as communication. Pirates in search of Silent and their DNA invaded Bellerophon, kidnapping and plundering and making the Chosen into slaves. Irfan fled into the Dream to seek a solution and remained there for many years. When she returned, she told the Chosen that although their birthright was within their grasp, they would never be free of their shackles until they became as pure as she, and she laid down the Laws of the Atash:

1. The Chosen must separate themselves from impure human society.

2. The Chosen must dedicate themselves to purity of thought and deed.

3. The Chosen must confess their impurities to the Enlightened in order to begin cleansing themselves.

4. The Chosen must give themselves over to obedience of the Enlightened that they may follow them into Light.

Martina shut the book off. Bored or not, there was only so much she could take. Was that thing meant to be a scholarly study or a religious text? For a history, it certainly glossed over or ignored an awful lot. A surviving journal from the time of Irfan Qasad had, Martina remembered, described Daniel Vik as going "insane with fury" when he found out that Irfan had genegineered their children for Silence, but there was plenty of hot debate about whether the reference was literal or metaphorical. It also completely ignored the fact that Silence itself had inadvertently led to the enslavement of so many Silent. If Irfan hadn't done her damndest to spread Silence throughout the galaxy as a method of intergalactic communication, founding her so-called Silent Empire, then two scientists separated by light years of space would never have collaborated, never have discovered slipspace, never have learned how to travel faster than light.

And Martina would never have been enslaved.

With the discovery of slipspace, humans and other intelligent life spread quickly through the galaxy, and the pokey colony ships vanished from living memory. They coasted slowly onward, their slumbering inhabitants confidently waiting to wake on a new, unspoiled world.

Then the slavers discovered them.

After almost a thousand years, all records of Martina, her family, and the other colonists had been lost or simply wiped. There was no proof that they weren't slaves, no one alive who even remembered they had existed. Dazed by the abrupt exit from cryo-sleep, the colonists had been unable to resist being shackled and herded aboard the slaver's ship. Later, they were hauled onto a space station and auctioned off. Martina had watched Utang being taken away by a slaver, though the slaver hadn't said why or where he was taking him. Then Martina had watched Evan and her mother being taken away by a woman in green. Martina had started to cry. Evan had said something to her, something about staying brave because he would find her one day, but she had barely heard him because she was crying so hard. Then he was gone.

Martina shook her head. It was all in the past-three owners ago, in fact. None of it mattered, and as long as she kept busy, either in the Dream or with her sketching, she didn't have to dwell on it.

Trouble was, she didn't have her sketchbook for drawing or her drugs for entering the Dream. There were the games and books on the computer, but Martina wasn't in the mood to read, and holographic games had never interested her. She rummaged around the computer terminal until she found the stylus, then searched the directory until she came across an art program. It activated at her command. Martina waved the stylus through the air, and it left a bright green trail in three dimensions. She nodded to herself. Three-dee art wasn't as fun as drawing, but it had its compensations.

Martina erased the trail and started sketching, just letting her hand go where it would. After a while, she realized she was creating pair a pair of rough portraits-a twelve-year-old boy with dark skin and eyes and a fifteen-year-old boy with equally dark skin but startlingly blue eyes. Evan and Utang. Annoyed with herself, Martina wiped the air clean and drew a series of animals. A falcon. A kangaroo. A koala bear. And all three reminded her of Evan. The koala had his eyes. The kanga mimicked his posture. The falcon shared his fierce expression. Angrily Martina wiped the holograms again and shut down the program. Then she sat down on the bed and drummed her fingers restlessly against her thighs.

All life, why was she here?