CHAPTER FIVE

 

“If I lived like a dolphin, I would probably live longer.”

—Daniel Vik

 

 

The satchel fell, and an orange beam of light flashed down from somewhere above Kendi’s head. The satchel hovered for a split-second, then fled up the beam and disappeared.

Kendi was running before he was even aware of it. The bag had popped into an upper window of an abandoned two-story house one level up and ninety-degrees clockwise around the tree. He pounded up a staircase without looking to see if Ben were behind him and hit the house’s platform. Doors and windows on the first floor were boarded up, and Kendi saw no way in. A flicker of movement on the roof caught his eye. A figure in a bulky jumpsuit was climbing out of a high window. A hood obscured the figure’s face, and the satchel was strapped to its back. Kendi spotted a fire ladder running up the side of the house and dashed toward it. The

figure made for the far gutter.

“Did you drop the satchel?” came Lucia’s voice in Kendi’s earpiece. “I didn’t see it.”

Kendi ignored her. He reached the roof just as the figure caught sight of him. It froze, then turned and ran across the shingles. Kendi followed, heart pounding, jaw tensed. A walkway for the upper level ran past the house two or three meters up and out. It had no mesh beneath it. The figure ran full tilt for the gutter and leaped. It easily snagged a support cable and pulled itself onto the swinging walkway. Kendi put on a burst of speed. He hit the edge and jumped.

Everything slowed. Kendi saw his own hands stretched out before him. The support cable was a handbreadth away. The figure on the walkway pulled a pistol from its belt. With aching slowness, it aimed. Kendi’s hands touched the cable. The figure fired down at him. This time the beam was green, and it caught Kendi square in the chest. The air was smashed from his lungs, and the cable tore itself from his grip. Kendi flew backward and fell. Leaves and branches rushed past him and wind filled his ears. Then there was a stretching sensation, and he stopped.

Kendi hung there, dazed and motionless. Above him, weathered wood and green leaves swayed sickeningly. Kendi felt bruised and out of breath. He tried to move his arms and legs. They didn’t respond. A tearing noise, and Kendi dropped a few centimeters. He gasped, and his surrounding snapped into focus. He had fallen into the tattered mesh below the rendezvous balcony. His arm had gone through one of the holes, and that was all that prevented him from sliding into a much bigger rent further down the mesh. Again he tried to move, but his muscles refused to work. Another tear, and the hole widened.

“Kendi!” Ben’s face appeared in Kendi’s field of vision. He was lying on his stomach to look over the edge. “Kendi! Are you okay?”

Kendi managed a blurry response, unable to create coherent words.

“I’ve called a rescue squad,” Ben said. “God, can you—”

The hole tore some more and Kendi jerked downward. Ben swore.

“Grab my hand!” he shouted, and thrust his arm down. It was within easy reach. Kendi tried to move, but only managed a twitch. Ben slid feet-first over the edge, legs dangling, arm wrapped around a balcony strut. He reached for Kendi’s free arm, but fell a few centimeters short. Ben’s feet swung over empty air.

“You have to bring your arm up so I can grab you,” Ben said. His voice was perfectly calm, but Kendi saw the sheen of sweat on his forehead. “You can do it, Ken. Bring your arm up.”

Rip, drop. Another tear and Kendi would slide into green oblivion. Kendi shrugged, trying to flip his arm up toward Ben, and managed a useless flopping motion.

“Almost, Ken,” Ben said. “Come on. Try again.”

Kendi shrugged harder. The motion brought his arm up. Ben reached. With a rotten tearing sound, the last of the mesh gave way. Kendi’s stomach lurched and he fell. Then he jerked to a stop. Ben’s hand was white around Kendi’s forearm. Kendi felt a rush of pain. Pins and needles stabbed his entire body and an iron band crushed his arm where Ben had him in a death grip. Their feet swung gently over empty air. Ben groaned aloud.

Kendi hung there for a moment, then gave himself a mental shake. He could feel his arms and legs again, and that meant he could move them. He brought his free arm up. Hot pain wrenched every muscle, but it moved. He got it around Ben’s neck. This brought him partially behind Ben, like a child climbing on for a piggy-back ride. The motion made Ben hiss through clenched teeth. His elbow, the one wrapped around the wooden strut, must be in agony. Kendi hung on through his own pain.

“I’ve got a hold,” he gasped. “Now what?”

In answer, Ben let go of Kendi and lunged with his free arm. Kendi swung wildly but kept his hold around Ben’s neck. Ben cried out in pain, but managed to grab the strut with his other arm. He was facing the balcony now.

“Can you climb up?” he panted.

Kendi reached for the balcony. Pain thundered through him, but his hand reached the edge. He started to climb, then lost his grip. He fell backward and only barely managed to wrap his arms around Ben’s neck again. The jolt wrung another grunt from Ben. Panting from pain and exertion, Kendi reached up to try again, but couldn’t even touch wood. He gritted his teeth.

“I have to lunge for it,” he said. “Ready?”

Ben jerked his head in a nod.

“One . . two...three.” Kendi lunged for the balcony—and missed. He was sliding down Ben’s back when a hard, scarred hand grabbed his. Lucia added her other hand to the grip and pulled. Kendi made it over the edge of the balcony onto blessedly solid wood, then turned to help Ben up. The three of them lay panting on the platform, savoring the feeling of being alive and out of danger. Hardwood had never felt so good beneath his body.

Sirens wailed in the distance. Kendi sat up. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “I don’t feel like explaining anything.”

They didn’t quite flee—Kendi couldn’t manage anything above a fast walk, and Ben’s right arm hung uselessly at his side—but they managed to get away before the rescue squad arrived. Kendi realized belatedly that barely two minutes had passed since he’d been shot.

Once they were a safe distance away, they ducked into an empty stairwell. Kendi explained what had happened while Lucia rolled up Ben’s sleeve to examine his arm. The hard muscle was already darkening with bruises, and he winced under Lucia’s careful prodding. Then she had Kendi lift his shirt. A rough circle was already turning purple on his chest and stomach.

“The blackmailer hit you with a gravity beam set to repulse,” Lucia said.

“I figured that out,” Kendi said.

“I think your arm is sprained, Ben. Harenn will have to look at it. And you, Fa—Kendi, will need analgesics. The human body isn’t made to be pushed around by a gravity beam. In some ways, it’s as effective as a neuro-stunner.”

“Let’s just get home,” Ben said. “I feel like shit.”

“What about the money, Lucia?” Kendi asked. “Are you tracking it?”

Lucia shook her head. “The bugs shorted out almost immediately. The gravity beam must have destroyed them.”

Lucia changed her camouflage jumpsuit to an unremarkable blue, and they emerged from the stairwell to trudge toward the train station. The monorail ride home was silent and solemn. Kendi could feel his muscles stiffening. Ben sat in the hard seat, his face unreadable, though Kendi knew him well enough to recognize how upset he was. Pain mixed with guilt. Why had Kendi been so stupid? He should have let the blackmailer get away. He had come within a hair of dying, had almost taken Ben with him. Now they were out ten thousand freemarks, and the blackmailer was probably royally pissed off. That didn’t bode well.

Kendi thanked his ancestors when they got home and saw the carpenters had left. Except for crumbs of sawdust scattered here and there, the staircases and walkways looked exactly the same as before. Harenn was waiting for them in the house. In the living room with her was a boy with dark eyes, hair, and skin. He was a bit short, and good-looking in a way that made maiden aunts ache to pinch his cheeks. Kendi had long ago decided the boy would one day break hearts on a dozen worlds.

“Bedj-ka,” he said weakly. “What are—”

“School is out, and he can’t stay home alone,” Harenn said. “What happened?”

“You look awful,” Bedj-ka said.

“Bedj-ka, I want you to go into Father Kendi’s room,” Harenn said. “You may use the sim-games there.”

“Uh, not those,” Kendi said quickly. “They wouldn’t be—um...”

“There’s another sim unit in my office,” Ben said.

“Go, Bedj-ka,” Harenn said. “Now!”

“I never get to hear anything good,” Bedj-ka complained, but left.

“I’ll get the medical kit,” Lucia said, and disappeared into the bathroom. Kendi explained what happened, and Harenn’s mouth hardened. When Lucia returned, Harenn took out the kit’s little scanner and told Ben to take off his shirt. Kendi flinched at the sight. The clear line of a balcony strut was imprinted in the crook of his elbow, and Ben’s fair skin showed the mark with perfect clarity. The limb was swelling. The hard, well-defined muscles of his arm and chest twitched painfully when Harenn touched them. She checked the scanner.

“Your arm is badly sprained,” she said, and racked an ampule into a dermospray. She pressed it against his arm with a thump. “This will clear it up, though it will take several hours. You should wear a sling for the next day or so. You will need prescription painkillers, but I do not have—”

“I have a stash,” Kendi said.

Harenn gave him a long look. “Do I want to know how you laid hands on them?”

“Not if you want to keep your nurse’s license.”

“Very well. Take what you need and no more, Ben. Lucia, help him put his shirt back on. Kendi, I need you to hold still.” Harenn examined him, poking, prodding, scanning. Kendi bore the process in uncharacteristic silence. The pain had settled into a low, steady ache.

“Your assailant could have killed you,” Harenn said. “If that beam had been turned up higher, it would have punched your heart out through your spine. You were very lucky.”

“I know,” Kendi said with look at Ben. Lucia was helping his sore arm into the sleeve, and Kendi was seized with an urge to push her away. That was his job.

“As it is,” Harenn continued, “your muscles will be sore for a day or two. There is nothing for it except rest, a hot bath, and pain medication.”

“Ben?” Bedj-ka called from the office. “Your computer is signaling. It says you have an urgent message.”

There was a collective rush for the office. Harenn ordered Bedj-ka out, and he went with poor grace. Ben sat at the desk and ordered the computer to bring up the message. Kendi’s mouth was dry.

You were bad, bad boys, the message said. Kendi does have guts, I’ll give him that. I almost got to see them. Sorry about the gravity beam, sweety-pies, but you didn’t leave me any choice. And Ben, you flame-haired hunk—better start scaring up more cash. Maybe your grandma can pass a law making blackmail a deduction. I’ll be in touch. —A friend

“It’s like being blackmailed by the tooth fairy,” Kendi muttered. “Let’s see if anything about this appeared on the news feeds.”

The local lead stories included the arrest of three Ched-Balaar who were part of a drug ring, the opening of a new play about Renna Dell, one of the original human colonists on Bellerophon, and the disappearance of a baby whose parents were divorced. The father had vanished as well, and the Guardians were treating it as a case of parental kidnapping. There was nothing about a strange chase through the streets of the Ulikov sector in Treetown.

“Now what do we do?” Ben said.

“I think we should call the police or the Guardians,” Lucia said. “These notes are very distinct, and a linguistic profile might be able to tell us something about—”

“No Guardians,” Ben almost shouted. “Absolutely not.”

“As you like, Ben,” Lucia said, taken a bit aback.

“No Guardians,” Kendi agreed, “but we might want to get someone else involved.”

“Didn’t you say Senator Reza offered government security guards?” Harenn said. “Why not use them?”

“They’re government,” Ben said. “Legal law enforcement. I don’t want them near me.”

“But we need someone,” Kendi said.

“Why?” Ben countered. “People have tried to kill us before. Besides, the blackmailer doesn’t want us dead—hard to sign checks from beyond the grave.”

“What if he—or she—decides to get rid of the evidence?” Kendi said. “When people came after us before, it was on other planets. Even when the Dream stalker was trying to kill Ara and me, it was in the Dream. This is here, in our home. Where we’re going to have babies.”

Ben’s mouth folded into a hard line, but eventually he said, “Who did you have in mind to call?”

“Lewa Tan. She retired from the Guardians a few years ago and does private security work now. Best of all, we can afford her. For a while, anyway.”

“Call, then,” Ben said. “And get it over with.”

                                                                             

“Open sesame,” Kendi said. A section of walkway plank, currently raised upward like a pointing finger, dropped into place. Two startled glider lizards leaped from the house gutter with matching squeaks and sailed away.

Inspector Lewa Tan (retired) gave it a critical look. “Is it just passworded?”

“Password, voice recognition, and print scanner, all set into the railing,” Kendi said, tapping the wood. “The staircases do the same thing.”

“A good start,” Tan said. “Let’s go inside.”

Tan inspected the house with a careful eye and a quick hand on her data pad. Kendi and Ben followed. Harenn and Lucia had already left. Kendi hadn’t realized how long it had been since he had last encountered Inspector Tan. He had seen her on and off since the Dream stalker murder case, but the visits had tapered off in recent years. Now there was a great deal of gray in her black hair, though the braid that ran down her back was as thick and heavy as before. Deep lines had cropped up around her eyes and mouth, and her brown eyes were a shade or two lighter. She still moved with firm strength, and Kendi was certain she could take down most assailants before they even saw her move. Her voice had also remained the same—it grated like a rusty hinge, and she spoke like she was going to be billed for every sentence.

“Have to replace these curtains with one-way blinds,” she said. “You should shut windows, especially on the ground floor. I’ll arrange to have mail sent to a service for checking before it comes here. Alarm system needs upgrading. My recommendation is a guard for each of you all day and at least one in the house all night.”

“I don’t know,” Ben said. They were standing in the living room. “It sounds like an awful lot.”

“It’ll keep you alive, Ben,” Tan said bluntly.

“I’m used to worrying about all this on field work for the Children,” Ben said. “But not here. In my own home.”

“Your choice,” Tan said. “You’re paying for my opinion, and I’m giving it. I’m just surprised you haven’t had any major trouble yet. Are there any weapons in the house?”

“In the floor safe in Ben’s office,” Kendi said. “We have a neuro-pistol and a needle gun. Children of Irfan issue.”

Tan nodded. “Is that sling something I should know about?”

Kendi gave Ben a sidelong look. Ben remained silent, leaving it to Kendi to take the lead as he usually did when he was uncertain. It was a part of Ben that Kendi didn’t always like. Kendi had to guess what Ben would want done or said. If Kendi guessed right, Ben got the benefit risk-free. If Kendi guessed wrong, Ben would have someone to blame.

“The sling isn’t important,” Kendi said. “It’s unrelated to why we called you.”

“Uh huh.” Tan leveled them a stare hard as brown glass. “I worked forty years as a Guardian, Kendi. I see a lot. I see Ben’s hurt. I see you’re moving carefully. I see new drawbridges. I hear about a rescue crew that showed up in Ulikov and found no one to rescue. Cop instincts say all the paints belong to one picture. I can’t help unless I know what’s going on. I’m confidential as a lawyer, if you’re worried. You hired both me and my silence.”

Kendi bit the inside of his cheek. The Despair had Silenced Tan, and he wondered if her last remark was meant to be a subtle rebuke.

“I suppose I’d be disappointed if you weren’t suspicious,” Kendi said, stalling. “You could say the events are related. We...we aren’t...”

“We’re being blackmailed,” Ben said. “We tried to catch the person when we handed off the money, but he knocked Kendi over the rail with a gravity beam and got away. I hauled Kendi back up, but it was a close thing.”

Kendi blinked at Ben, then averted his gaze.

Tan folded her arms. “What are they blackmailing you about?”

“You don’t need to know, Lewa.” Ben held up his good hand. “You’re going to quote Irfan Qasad at me: ‘The greater your knowledge, the lesser your risk.’ But it ultimately doesn’t matter why we’re being blackmailed.”

“Tell me this much,” Tan said. “Is it because you did something illegal?”

“No,” Ben said. “And we’ve hired Lucia dePaolo to look into it. She’s tracking leads right now.”

“Lucia’s good,” Tan mused. “Why not call the Guardians?”

“No Guardians,” Ben said. “And no police. That’s non-negotiable.”

“You’re the boss.” Tan flicked her braid over her shoulder. “But I can’t be held responsible for anything that happens because you held back.”

“Fair enough,” Kendi said.

“When will you assign security detail?” Kendi asked.

“Now,” Tan said, tapping her data pad. “I’ll have people here within half an hour.”

“I should give you contact information for my publicist,” Kendi said. “She has a whole campaign schedule worked out for—”

“Attention! Attention! Wanda Petrie is asking permission to enter by the western drawbridge.”

“Perfect timing,” Kendi said. “Irene, lower the—”

“Stop!” Tan barked, and Kendi subsided into startled silence. “You can’t do that, Kendi. Anybody could walk up and claim to be Wanda Petrie. Stay here.”

Tan went to the living room window and peered around the edge of the curtain. “I see a woman with brown hair in a business outfit. She doesn’t seem to be armed. Come take a look, Kendi, but be careful.”

Feeling a bit silly, Kendi crept to the window and peeped outside. Wanda Petrie stood at the drawbridge with an impatient look on her face.

“That’s her,” Kendi said. “Can I let her in?”

“Should be all right.” Tan took out her data pad. “Have to get some security cameras installed around here, too.”

“Irene, lower the western drawbridge and tell Wanda Petrie to enter.”

A moment later, Petrie clicked her way into the living room with her quick, bird-like movements. Kendi made introductions and Petrie sat.

“I’m glad to see you changed your mind about the personal security,” she said. “Good.  I’ve reworked your schedule, including the workshop. Tonight Senator Reza is speaking at a Unionist rally—a small rally—and I’d like you to attend. “s a guest, not a speaker. If anyone talks to you, smile, nod, and keep quiet. Do not talk to any members of the press.”

“Details,” Tan said over her own data pad. “Time, place, people.”

“I’ll zap them to you right now,” Petrie said, tapping buttons. “You’ll want to talk to the Senator’s Guardian force, too, so you can coordinate with them.”

Kendi leaned back in his chair. The two women talked and argued about Kendi’s schedule as if he and Ben weren’t there. The air was growing stuffy, since Tan had insisted they close all the windows, and Kendi’s body still ached from the gravity beam. It felt like the room, his schedule, even his body had grown close and confining. Kendi needed to get out, get away.  He shifted in his chair and caught Ben’s eye. Ben looked as uncomfortable and bored as Kendi felt. Kendi jerked his head toward the stairs and winked. Ben hesitated, looked at Petrie and Tan, and nodded.

                                                                             

Feeling like a conspirator, Ben sidled toward the stairs with Kendi. He should probably stay and listen to Tan and Petrie, but the mischievous look on Kendi’s face was too...too...well, it was too cute to pass up. Ben bit his lip to hide a smile. After almost fifteen years, he still found Kendi cute.

The two of them slipped upstairs and into their room. Kendi shut the door and leaned against it with an exaggerated sigh of relief. Ben couldn’t help a small laugh. Kendi’s sense of humor had gotten both of them into trouble a few times, but it was one of the things Ben loved most about him.

“You’re silly beyond reason, you know,” Ben said.

“The road to hell may be paved with good intentions,” Kendi said. “But the road to heaven is mortared with silliness.”

“Mortared?”

“Silliness holds everything together,” Kendi said seriously. “Without it we’d fall apart.”

“I thought the Real People didn’t believe in heaven.”

“I’m making this up as I go. Bear with me.” He slid his hands over Ben’s broad shoulders, careful not to jostle his sore arm. “How’s the injury?”

“Not bad. The painkillers at work.”

“You look like a wounded hero in that sling. Come to think of it, that’s exactly what you are.”

The remark jolted Ben. For a few minutes, he had managed to forget the blackmailing, the failed plan, and the fact that some stranger out there knew he was Irfan’s son. His life would be destroyed under a stampede of reporters, thrill-seekers, and religious fanatics. The idea filled him with an unreasoning terror, though he couldn’t say why. In a lifetime of working with the Children of Irfan, he had faced battle cruisers, galactic empires, greedy slavers, and even a serial murderer. He had been afraid of all of them—only an idiot wouldn’t feel at least a little nervous with a Unity battleship firing missiles up your slipdrive—but the idea of becoming an intergalactic celebrity filled him with a bone-shaking terror that he couldn’t seem to shake. His gut twisted, and he wanted to creep into a dark corner like a cricket, letting the world pass him by except when he chose to make a noise.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Kendi said, reading Ben’s face. “Look at you—scared and upset and everything else, and I blew the chance to make it stop. I’m so stupid.”

“You did everything you could, Ken,” Ben said, falling into a nickname he rarely used and Kendi allowed to no one else. “Don’t beat yourself up. That’s my job.”

Kendi ran his fingers along Ben’s jaw, something which always made him shiver. “I never got the chance to thank you properly for saving me,” he said, and bent his head to kiss Ben. Kendi’s mouth was warm on his, and it was several moments before they parted.

“You’re welcome,” Ben said, then leaned against Kendi. “God, I thought I’d lost you. When you fell like that...I thought I’d die, too. Don’t do that ever again.”

“I won’t,” Kendi promised, whispering into Ben’s hair. “I’m sorry.”

They stayed like that for a long time. Finally Kendi broke away. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said. “I need a change of scene.”

“Where?” Ben asked. “You know that Tan won’t want us going anywhere without her approval.”

In response, Kendi glanced at Ben’s dresser. The top was a tangle of odds and ends. Two unmatched socks and a broken comb lay among the mess. The bedroom itself was divided in half. A king-sized bed occupied the exact center—the size was a concession to Kendi, who claimed Ben was a bed hog—and each half had its own characteristic flavor. Ben’s side was, like his den, a total mess. Clothing lay tumbled on the floor along with bookdisks, readers, and other objects. Kendi’s side was Spartan. Clothes and robes hung neatly in the closet, and a short red spear hung on the wall. The high-beamed ceiling and polished wooden floors gave the room a light, airy feel despite Ben’s clutter. Kendi fished a dermospray from the jumble atop the dresser and handed it to Ben.

“Ah,” Ben said. “My turf or yours?”

“Mine,” Kendi said. “You’d look sexy in a loincloth.”

Ben blushed, then laughed and lay down on the bed, feeling a little better. He watched Kendi retrieve his own dermospray from a drawer and press it to his forearm. A hiss, a thump, and the drug drove home. Kendi took down the spear and fitted the sharp end with a rubber tip. He bent one knee and fitted the spear underneath it, creating a pirate peg-leg for himself. The rubber end of the spear pressed against the floor. If Kendi had been outdoors, the sharp point would push into the earth to give the spear stability, but that wasn’t possible indoors. Once Kendi was sure of his balance, he cupped his hands over his groin and closed his eyes in the traditional meditation pose for the Real People of Australia. No matter how many times he watched Kendi do this, it amazed Ben that he didn’t fall over.

Ben pressed his own dermospray to his arm and felt the small thump. With a final glance at Kendi, he shut his eyes and lay back. After a moment, color swirled before his closed eyes, and he felt a warm languor spread through his limbs—the drugs at work. Ben concentrated on his breathing, emptying his mind, reaching upward and out.

The colors faded and cleared. Ben opened his eyes. His sling was gone, and he was standing on a white tile floor in the middle of a computer network. Organic data processing units twined up like vines, their DN” matrices glowing green and blue. Keyboards, microphones, and holographic displays made neat rows on gleaming metal surfaces. Lights flashed. Transmission lines and data portals opened in all directions, ready to transmit or receive.

It was the Dream.

Despite a thousand years of study, no one knew exactly what the Dream was, though the prevailing theory held that it was a plane of mental existence created from the collective subconscious of every sentient mind in the universe. The Silent—people like Ben and Kendi—could actually enter the Dream, usually with a boost from a drug cocktail tailored to their individual metabolisms.

In the Dream distance meant nothing. Two Silent who entered the Dream could meet and talk, no matter where in the galaxy their bodies might be. The Silent could also shape the Dream landscape, form it into whatever environment they desired. In Ben’s network, every wire, every matrix, every chip was a sentient mind in the solid world, and they took on those forms because Ben wished it. Or perhaps Ben saw the Dream as a computer network because his own mind wanted him to see it that way. Philosophies differed, even among the Children of Irfan. Ben only knew it gave him a headache to think about it.

Before the Despair, the Dream had been full of whispering voices, the voices of millions upon millions of Silent. These days the Dream was quiet, like death, and a tiny handful of whispers skittered amid the hum of Ben’s ventilation system. The silence was eerie, and it felt like the Dream was in mourning.

Ben shook these thoughts aside. He was supposed to meet Kendi on Kendi’s turf. He concentrated for a moment and banished his network. A rush of Dream energy swirled around him, stirring his hair and clothes like a whirlpool. The network vanished, and an empty gray plain took its place. In the distance, earth merged with sky at an ill-defined horizon. The air was still and just little stale. It was the default condition of the Dream.

Ben shut his eyes and listened to the faint whispers on the air. Practiced Silent could single out individual voices and track them down, and Ben was picking up the trick quickly, almost as if he had been born to it.

Maybe I was, he thought, unsure whether he was being resolute or wry.

One whisper, close by, felt familiar as his own voice. Ben opened his eyes and trotted toward it. His footsteps were muffled, as if he were surrounded by carpeted walls instead of empty space. Just ahead of him, the landscape changed. Rocks and hills came over the horizon, and Ben caught a whiff of hot, dry air. The sun appeared, a hard gold coin that radiated harsh heat. Sandy soil appeared a few steps away. Ben halted and reached out to touch the place with a mental finger.

~May I approach?~ he asked in the ritual greeting.

~Get in here,~ Kendi replied.

Ben took a step forward and braced himself. When two Silent met in the Dream, they had to decide between them whose mind would shape reality. Unless one Silent were willing to let go, the Dream would warp as both minds pulled at it, sending the landscape into a Dali spiral. The stronger mind would usually win out, but experience had an impact as well. Ben let out a deep breath and released his expectations. Another rush of Dream energy, and Kendi’s turf surrounded him on all sides. Sandy soil peppered with scrubby plant life stretched in all directions around him, and the sun continued to pour down liquid heat. It was the Australian Outback, or Kendi’s Dream interpretation thereof. Ben had never visited the real thing.

A high scream pierced the air overhead. Ben looked up, squinting against the sun. A winged speck described a circle in the clear blue sky. Ben became aware he was wearing nothing but a loincloth. Dream etiquette—the host dressed the visitor in whatever clothing was appropriate for the climate in the host’s turf, and the Real People wore little or nothing in the Outback.

The speck folded its wings and dove straight for Ben. He raised an arm. The little brown falcon pulled up just in time and landed gently on Ben’s bare forearm. Feathers brushed his skin and talons pricked without piercing. A real-world falcon would have laid him open to the bone, but this was the Dream.

“I thought you were kidding about the loincloth,” Ben said. “You’ve never put me one before.”

“Some people,” the falcon leered, “shouldn’t be allowed to wear clothes.”

“And if I get sunburned here, it’ll carry over into my solid body. You remember the term ‘psychosomatic carryover,’ don’t you?”

“I could whip up some sunscreen.”

“Kendi.”

“Oh, all right,” Kendi said, fluffing his feathers in a pretend pout. “Here.” Khaki trousers and a matching shirt grew down Ben’s body, and a pith helmet appeared on his head. Heavy boots encased his feet. The falcon, meanwhile, fluttered to the ground. The moment its talons touched earth, its form shimmered and shifted like muddy water and a kangaroo stood in its place. The animal had a pouch.

“Better?” the kangaroo asked.

“Much.” Ben took a deep breath of spicy desert air and looked around at Kendi’s Outback. The rocks and boulders cast razor-edged shadows. A group of small-leaved trees made a grove around a wide, muddy billabong that looked ideal for hiding crocodiles, though nothing stirred the water. No other animals were in evidence, and the air was devoid of birdsong. The place possessed a stark, primal beauty. “So what are we doing here, anyway?”

Kangaroo Kendi flopped down on the ground in an extravagant sprawl of fur and tail. “Relaxing. Getting the hell away from it all.”

Ben sat down next to the kangaroo. “Any luck with...”

“No,” Kendi said. “I’m still stuck in animal form. I’ll keep trying, but for now it’s kangas, koalas, and camels.”

Ben nodded and stroked the kangaroo’s soft, dusty fur. Before the Despair, Kendi had been one of the more powerful Silent in the Dream. The chief manifestation of his power had been an uncanny knack at tracking other people and the ability to create animals in the Dream. No Silent could create sentient creatures—creating and controlling such complicated reactions was too much for even the subconscious mind—but a few could handle lower life forms. Kendi had gone one step further. His animals had been shards of his own mind, separated from his main consciousness and possessing a certain amount of autonomy. Oddly, all his animals had been—were—female, though Ben had continued to think of Dream Kendi as “he.” The Despair had robbed Kendi of much of his power within the Dream, leaving him able to appear there only as Outback creatures and killing his ability to create independent animals. His tracking skills had also been dulled, but there were also far fewer people to track.

The sun continued to pour down, and suddenly Ben felt itchy and confined in his explorer’s outfit. “Let’s go swimming,” he said.

Kendi cocked an ear. “Swimming?”

“You know how, don’t you?”

“Depends on my shape.”

“So let’s go to the beach,” Ben said.

Kangaroo Kendi thought a moment. “You’re on.”

Ben felt the landscape around him shift and loosen as Kendi’s mind relaxed its hold. Ben reached out and touched the Dream.

The Outback vanished, leaving the flat plain and a puddle of muddy billabong water. Then the puddle expanded, gushing toward the horizon with the sound of a thousand rivers until it met a distant azure sky. White sand faded into existence beneath Ben’s boots. Palm trees grew toward a gentle sun, putting out leaves and coconuts like green fingers and brown knuckles. The ocean roiled and bubbled in its newness until Ben stretched a hand over it. It calmed at once, deepening to a perfect, clear blue. Ben’s explorer outfit melted away, replaced by bathing trunks, sandals, and a yellow gauze shirt.

“Nice,” Kendi said with admiration. “Though the palm trees look a little barmy.”

“I’ve only seen holos,” Ben apologized. “It’s not something I—”

The kangaroo bolted upright, ears pricked, nostrils flared. “What the hell?”

“What?” Ben twisted around, trying to see in all directions at once. “What’s wrong?”

Kendi remained motionless, a furry brown statue. “I thought I heard...something.”

Ben listened. “ll he could hear was his own breathing and the gentle lap of small waves on white sand. The usual murmur of Dream whispers formed a sussurant background. “I don’t hear a thing.”

Kendi listened a moment longer, then gave an oddly human shrug. “Guess I’m jumpier than I thought. Ha! I didn’t even mean the pun.”

“Let’s go in,” Ben said. “The water’s fine—I know.” He started to pull of his shirt, then caught himself. With a flick of his mind, it disappeared, along with his sandals. The soft, golden sun shone pleasantly warm on his bare shoulders, a marked contrast to Kendi’s harsh Outback. With a happy yell, Ben dove into the cool waters and swam several meters out before surfacing. He shook his head and flung water in all directions, treading furiously to keep himself afloat.

The beach was empty, the kangaroo gone. Ben shaded his eyes and kept kicking. What the hell? Where was—

Something bumped his legs from beneath. A stab of panic—

Shark!

—flashed through him before he could remind himself that there would be no sharks in the Dream unless Ben put them there. He was looking down, trying to see what it was, when a dolphin poked its head above the surface and blew water into Ben’s face. Ben spluttered and wiped his eyes.

“You bastard!” he said. “And since when can you do dolphins?”

“Since now,” Kendi chirped. “There are dolphins in the oceans around Australia. My subconscious is letting me count them as workable animal shapes, I guess. Or maybe I’m getting stronger in the Dream. This is fun!” He slipped backward into the water, then abruptly burst upward, arcing over Ben’s head and splashing down behind him. Ben laughed, and more of his tension eased.

“I don’t think dolphins are supposed to giggle,” he said when Kendi surfaced.

Kendi presented his dorsal fin. “Grab hold!”

Ben obeyed. The dolphin’s skin was smooth and cool. The moment he got a good grip, Kendi took off. Ben was flying through the water. The ocean washed over his body, sliding under and around him like a liquid lover.

Kendi dove. Ben barely had time to snatch a breath before they were underwater. Sound vanished, and blue depths sank into darkness beneath them. Ben held Kendi’s fin with strong hands, the same ones that had pulled Kendi back from deadly green depths barely an hour ago. Ben tried to push the memory away and only partly succeeded. He concentrated on the feel of Kendi’s muscles pumping smoothly up and down as his muscular tail propelled them forward. It was exhilarating—speed without sound. Normally speed meant rushing air and some kind of roaring motor, but down here it was all silent. Even the whispers were quiet.

~...~

Kendi stopped. Ben let go of him and hung in the water, paddling gently to keep from sinking. This time he had heard it. Down here, in the absolute silence, the sound had been clear. Faint, but clear. Ben couldn’t describe it, even to himself. It was the little pause before a speaker cleared his throat, a tiny intake of breath. He had never heard anything like it before. Kendi floated in the water beside him, and it was clear he had heard the same thing.

Ben’s lungs called for air, but he didn’t want to surface in case he missed the sound again. It occurred to him that he could create a mask and breathing collar for himself, but that would create bubbles and destroy the perfect silence.

You’re not really underwater, you know, he told himself. You don’t really need to breathe. This is the Dream, and you’re the son of the most powerful human the Dream has ever known.

Ben’s lungs were shouting now, and Kendi poked him with his snout, urging him to surface. Ben held up a hand. The fine red-gold hairs on his arm waved like kelp in the smooth water. Ben closed his eyes, concentrated.

The water is as good as air, he thought. I can breathe the water. I can breathe the water now.

He inhaled. Air burst from his lungs, and water rushed in. His chest felt abruptly heavy and he tried to cough, but the water prevented him. Panic hit. Ben’s eyes popped open and he struggled. Kendi dove underneath him in a flash and pushed him toward the surface. Ben choked and fought to regain his concentration.

I can breathe, he told himself firmly. I can breathe now!

He gasped, and the heaviness in his chest vanished. Water filled his lungs, sweet as air. Ben pushed away from Kendi and dove downward, swimming away from the surface. Kendi rushed after him, obviously afraid Ben had panicked and was heading the wrong way, as drowning victims sometimes do. Ben held up a hand again with a grin and pointedly inhaled. The dolphin’s eyes widened, and a clicking chirpy noise filled the water. Kendi’s words in a dolphin’s voice.

“How the hell are you doing that?” he demanded.

Ben shrugged, uncertain whether or not he could talk underwater, and decided not to push his luck. Instead he spun and swam away with a silent laugh. It was glorious! The water supported him, moved with him, let him slide in any direction he wanted. Kendi easily caught up with him, swimming around him, under him, caressing him with his sleek, muscled body. Suddenly even the simple swim trunks felt tight and confining. Ben’s mind flickered, and they vanished. The sensual feel of the warm water and Kendi’s smooth skin on his intensified. He wrapped his arms and legs around Kendi and let him propel both of them forward. It was like sliding through warm silk. Ben tasted salt, felt liquid course over him faster and faster as Kendi’s tail thrashed the water. He was aware they were rising, rushing, flying toward the surface. His breath came faster, his lungs pumped furiously. They broke the surface, man and dolphin, and arced into the sky together, impossibly high, impossibly free. Ben hung in mid-air with Kendi for a tiny moment that lasted an entire day. Then they were falling back toward the ocean. They hit with a great splash that sent up a gout of white water. Bubbles tingled against Ben’s bare skin. Automatically he swam upward and surfaced with a shout. Kendi appeared a moment later.

“That was the greatest!” Ben whooped, shaking his head to fling the hair from his eyes.

Kendi’s dolphin grin stretched wider. “Let’s do it again.”

“Give me a minute to recover first. That was a hell of a ride.” He lay back, tried to float, failed, and went back to treading water. Kendi nuzzled up next to him to help.

“You heard that sound,” he said after a while.

“I did. What was it? You control the Dream better than I do.”

“Not true. Teaching yourself to breathe a foreign atmosphere was a neat trick—difficult for most Silent and impossible for the rest. I can’t do it. “ll my animal shapes breathe air.”

“Do you think it’s because I’m Irfan’s son?”

“Could be,” Kendi said. “In any case, I don’t know what the sound was—or where it came from.”

~May I approach?~

Ben jumped. He hadn’t been expecting to anyone to knock. The voice, however, was familiar.

“Martina!” Kendi called. “Come on in—I mean, if it’s okay with Ben.”

“Sure,” Ben said.

The Dream rippled, and Martina Weaver appeared a few meters away. She wore a one-piece blue bathing suit. For a split-second, she appeared to be standing on the surface of the ocean. Then she vanished with a squeak and a splash. She surfaced, sputtering and blowing salt water.

“Sorry!” Ben called. “I forgot there’s no place to stand.”

She splashed him in response, then lay back and stared up at the perfect blue sky. “This is a fine stress reliever. Glad I stopped by.”

“What are you up to?” Kendi asked. “Anything going on?”

“I’m hard at work. Now that you’re on sabbatical, the Children decided to end my training—as if I hadn’t already been doing courier duty for half my life—and they put me on duty. I’ve been making contacts and running messages to the Prism Conglomerate all morning. Their banks are a real mess now that they can only communicate locally. Anyway, I sensed the both of you and decided to pay a visit before my drugs wear off. I wasn’t expecting an ocean dip.”

“Don’t call your brother a dip,” Ben said with mock severity. A gout of water from Kendi caught him in the face.

“How deep is it?” Martina asked, and dove without waiting for an answer. She surfaced a few seconds later. “I’m impressed. Clearest water I’ve seen this side of a swimming pool. Let’s you see everything.” She sniffed. “Including the fact that Kendi isn’t the only one doing a skin swim.”

Ben reflexively jerked his arms down to cover himself, sank, surfaced, and sprayed water. He would be wearing a bathing suit. He would be wearing a bathing suit now. And he was. It was yellow. Ben’s face went hot. Martina covered a smile with her hand as she tread water. Kendi gave a chirping dolphin laugh.

“Didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Martina said, then winked. “Actually, I should probably congratulate you. Or maybe I should congratulate Kendi.”

“Thank you,” Kendi smirked. “You’re as bad as I am, sis.”

“Runs in the family. Does he always blush like that?”

“It’s that fair skin. Shows everything.”

“Ah. Like the water did.”

The ocean vanished, leaving the stark, gray plain in its place. Martina fell and landed on her backside with a squawk. Kendi thumped to the ground as well. Ben, who had been ready for the change, landed neatly on his feet. Before anyone could react further, the ocean exploded back into existence. “gain, Ben was ready and tread water. Martina and Kendi surfaced at the same time, looking indignant.

“Oops,” Ben said. He had wanted to say Sorry, but no one could lie in the Dream. “Do you think all that embarrassment made me lose my concentration?”

“Ha!” Martina scoffed. “I’m going to have a bruise on my arse when I wake up, I can feel it already.”

“Better offer pax,” Kendi said, “before he calls up an undersea volcano.”

Martina looked down with mock horror. “Pax,” she said.

“Pax,” Ben said.

“I have to go, anyway,” she said. “My drugs are wearing off.”

“Before you leave,” Kendi said, “did you hear anything...strange today?”

“Strange how?” Martina said. “Strange like a rumor at a party or strange like a witch doctor at a cricket match?”

“A strange noise,” Kendi clarified.

“Nothing like that,” Martina said. “Why? What did you hear?”

Kendi hesitated. “I’m not sure. The Dream is so different now.”

“That it is. Hey, didn’t you offer supper yesterday? I wasn’t free then, but I am tonight. I think Keith is, too.”

“Damn,” Kendi said with regret. “This time I can’t. Grandma Salman is speaking at a rally and I’m supposed to go. It’ll be scarf and run for supper. Tomorrow?”

“Oops,” Martina said. “Drugs are off. Call!” She vanished. Water swirled in the spot she had occupied.

“We should probably go, too,” Kendi said. “I’m sure Wanda and Lewa will need to talk to us before the rally. Do you want to come?”

“I probably should,” Ben said. “She’s my grandmother, after all. She’ll be a great-grandmother pretty soon.”

“She already is,” Kendi reminded him. “Don’t forget about Zayim’s kid. Did you know about that?”

“That was the first I’d heard of it.” He paused, tried to speak, failed, and tried again. “I wish...Do you think...?”

Kendi slid closer to Ben, who threw an arm around him. “Yes. Your mom knows about our kids, no question.”

“She’ll never see them, though,” Ben said. “And they’ll never know who she is. Was.”

“Then we’ll have to tell them,” Kendi said. “We’ll tell them so many stories about the great Mother Adept Araceil Rymar that by the time they’re teenagers, they’ll roll their eyes at the mention of her name and say, ‘Aw, Dad—not Grandma Ara again.’”

Ben forced himself to laugh. “It’s a plan.” He pushed away from Kendi. “You go on out. I want to wander around a little more.”

“Okay. See you in the real world. Dad.”

“Da.”

Dolphin Kendi closed his eyes and vanished. Ben spun gently in the whirlpool he left behind, then let the ocean disappear. The empty gray plain stretched away in all directions, and the stale air hung motionless around him. Ben was bone dry and clad in his usual loose trousers and tunic. It was like being indoors.

A wave of grief washed over Ben and his throat tightened. The feeling was getting a little easier to deal with, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Did it mean he was starting to forget her? Ben tried to recall his mother’s face, and for a panicky moment his mind stayed blank. Then he remembered dark hair, round face, firm voice. Suddenly he wanted—needed—to see her again, needed it so badly it made his hands shake. He reached out with his mind and touched the Dream. A sketchy, three-dimensional outline took shape before him. Another part of his mind shouted a warning, shrieked at him to back away from this. Everyone knew it was a bad idea to call up the shapes of dead loved ones in the Dream. Ben heard it and ignored it.

The outline was too tall. Ben shortened it, made it round. He topped it with dark hair. It looked like a bad wig. A face took shape. Rounded cheeks, dark skin, a firm mouth. The chin wasn’t coming out right. It was too pointed. And the ears were too big. What had the inner part looked like? Ben tried to remember, but the image wouldn’t come. God—he couldn’t even call up a good memory of his own mother. The shrieking part said this was why you didn’t call up images, that they only made you feel worse. He wasn’t much of an artist, either, and the replica looked blurry. The skin had a single tone, making it appear flat and lifeless. He worked for several minutes, adding a little blush to the cheeks and trying to put highlights into the hair. At last he stepped back. The figure looked like a bad manikin of his mother, dull and lifeless and fake.

It isn’t moving, he thought. That’s why it looks so strange.

He raised his hand. The shrieking part of his mind begged him to stop, not to do this. But Ben ignored it. He gestured. “Speak,” he said.

The new Ara opened her mouth, creating a red hole in the middle of her face. “B-e-e-e-n,” she said. Her voice was thick and gluey. She twitched once, then took a lurching, monstrous step forward. “B-e-e-e-e-n. I m-i-i-i-s-s-s-s-s...m-i-i-i-i-s-s-s-s-s...” The s sound hissed like a snake. Ben backpedaled. Nausea oozed through his stomach.

“B-e-e-e-e-n-n-n-n.” The creature shambled forward. One of its legs didn’t have a knee joint. “B-e-e-e-n-n-n I w-a-a-a-n-n-n-t...”

“Go away!” Ben screamed.

The thing vanished. Air rushed in to the spot it had occupied. Ben went to his hands and knees and retched on the flat, gray ground. The sour taste of bile flooded his mouth, and grief made a cold rock in his chest. What the hell had he been thinking? He’d been so stupid. Mom was dead, and there was no way to bring her back. Not even in the Dream. The grief mixed with a rising anger—anger at mom for killing herself during the Despair, himself for not getting home in time to save her, anger at ...

Padric Sufur.

Ben got to his feet. Around him, the Dream formed itself into a high canyon. Boulders were strewn over a rocky ground. The blue sky was diamond-hard and far away. Mesquite clung stubbornly to cracks and crevices. With ease born of practice, Ben put out a hand, palm down. The ground rumbled, and a statue rose from the earth itself. It portrayed an old man with hawk’s nose and a thin, whip-like body. The features were clumsily rendered but recognizable. Ben stared at it, jaw clenched. The Despair had come about because of this man. His mother was dead because of this man. Hatred burned, then blazed. He put out a hand. A ten-pound sledgehammer slapped into his palm, and he raised it high.

Ben always started at the head. A satisfying impact shock traveled up his arm when the hammer struck. He swung again and again. Rock chips flew. Without missing a swing, Ben called up a clear faceplate for himself. Chips pinged off it and he swung the hammer again. In seconds the statue became a wreck from the shoulders up. Ben attacked arms and torso. His hands stung and ached. Sweat broke out on his face and under his arms. The air behind the faceplate grew sweaty and moist. When the statue was half-gone, Ben threw the hammer aside and raised a furious fist. A bolt of lightning cracked down from the empty sky and struck the remains of the statue. It shattered into fine sand. The thunderclap crashed against Ben’s bones as it always did and knocked him backward. He landed hard, but didn’t care. The pain made it real. It was his penance for surviving.

He lay on his back, staring upward. The bright sky was trying to escape the frame created by hard canyon walls. The walls didn’t seem to notice. Ben didn’t feel much better. The grief was getting better, but the anger was getting worse. He should tell Kendi about it, see what—

No. Kendi would only insist Ben see a counselor, and the counselors were all busy with people who had real problems. Ben wouldn’t be able to get an appointment for months, he was sure, and when Kendi heard about that, he would try to pull strings to get Ben in earlier, and the thought only made Ben angrier. Did Kendi think he couldn’t solve his own problems? That Kendi had to step in every time Ben—

Get a grip, Ben admonished himself. You’re angry at him for something that isn’t even a blip on the sensor screen.

The weird thing was that Ben wanted Kendi to help him. He wanted Kendi to present him with a solution, an instant remedy, and he wanted Kendi to do it without Ben having to ask for one. Ben sighed and banished the faceplate. He clearly didn’t know what he wanted. Except, maybe, for Padric Sufur’s head in a basin of bubbling lava.

Let it go, he thought. Being mad doesn’t do you any good. Padric Sufur is a thousand light-years away on his rich-boy estate, drinking champagne to the Despair. You can’t reach him and you can’t do anything to him. So just let it go.

Ben took a deep breath and exhaled to push the anger out.

It didn’t work.

Finally he sat up, gathered his concentration, and let go of the Dream.

                                                                             

The best thing about science class, mused Matthew Secord, was that sometimes you got to run around outside and call it homework. He pointed his data pad at a passing glider lizard. It beeped once and Matthew checked the readout. Female. Two years old. Body temperature 45 degrees Celsius. Cool.

Around him, the talltrees soared up to impossible heights. Their rough brown trunks were so big, it took Matthew almost a minute to walk all the way around one. Now that he was thirteen, Mom was finally allowing him to descend to the forest floor on his own, and Matthew reveled in the new-found freedom. He had to admit that he had been a little nervous at first. The government didn’t have money these days—no one did—which meant they had cut back on the pheromone sprays that kept the more dangerous dinosaurs away from Treetown. But he hadn’t seen anything remotely resembling a carnosaur, and he had come to relax.

Relax. He wished Mom would learn to relax. She had been Silenced, of course, and that made it hard for her. Matthew had just started touching the Dream himself—having extremely realistic Dreams, hearing strange whispers, feeling like he was being watched—when the Despair struck. Dad had...well, Matthew didn’t like to think about that. Dad was gone now, and that was that. The Despair had Silenced both Mom and Matthew, and Matthew knew Mom worried about him. Losing Dad and being Silenced had almost crushed her, and she was afraid the same was happening to him. Well, Matthew was fine, just fine, and he didn’t need Mom hovering over him all the time, demanding hugs and weeping into his hair. It was relief to be down here in the forest, surrounded only by the dinosaur calls and birdsong and—

“Help! Help me!”

Matthew spun. The call had come from somewhere behind and to his left. It was also quite close. “Hello?” he shouted. “Where are you? What’s wrong?”

“Help me!”

Following the sound of the shout, Matthew skirted a talltree and clambered over an enormous fallen branch that was half as tall as he was. On the other side, Matthew found a dark-haired woman sitting on the ground.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Are you all right?”

“I think I twisted my ankle,” she gasped. “I can’t stand up. Can you help me?”

Feeling very grown-up, Matthew knelt and looked at the woman’s ankle without touching it. Then he took out his data pad and activated the basic first-aid scanner.

“It looks okay to me,” he said. “No major injury. Maybe we can—”

Something cold and hard thumped against the back of his neck. Matthew twisted around and stared up at a blond man holding a dermospray. The man didn’t say a word as Matthew Secord keeled over among the soft ferns.