Chapter Nineteen

Planet Confederation’s Core

Palace of Her Most August and Imperial Majesty
Empress Kan Maja Kalii

People who are [s]ilent are dangerous.

—Bolivar I of the Independence Confederation in a speech

Whether Bolivar meant silent as a proper or a common noun is a matter for conjecture.

—Scholar Perrin Wal

“War?” Ara exclaimed.

Empress Kan maja Kalii nodded. The jewels hovering about her head bobbed like confused fireflies for a moment before settling back into their normal orbits. Although it was early morning for Ara, it was night on this part of Confederation’s Core, and the Empress was holding audience in a great alabaster hall with a cathedral ceiling and white marble floors. The Empress herself sat on a simple gray throne on a raised platform. Lamps glowed with cold light, and the windows were shut tight against darkness and spies. The only people in the room were Ara, Grandfather Melthine, and the Empress herself, though Ara and Melthine were actually possessing the bodies of a pair of Silent slaves. They currently knelt on large pillows near the base of the Empress’s platform.

“Premier Yuganovi’s personal Silent delivered the ultimatum moments ago,” the Empress said. “The Empire of Human Unity resents the kidnaping of Sejal Dasa on the Confederation’s behalf. If Sejal is not returned immediately, the Unity will declare war.”

“Over Sejal?” Ara said incredulously. “He’s powerful and valuable, certainly, but full-blown war?”

“There are other factors,” the Empress said. “I am also dealing with a boundary dispute and the fact that two favored slipship routes for Confederation ships brush Unity territory. A trade agreement we negotiated ten years ago needs to be reworked due to changes in the availability of the goods concerned, but the Unity refuses to discuss the idea. Another Unity spy was caught in my court and we’re trying to see if we can arrange a trade for one of our operatives found in their territory, even though neither side is officially supposed to be spying on the other.”

The Empress paused to rub a hand across her forehead. “Relations between the Confederation and the Unity are a keg of powder. You can probably guess how I would describe Sejal’s supposed kidnaping.”

Melthine cleared his throat. He currently wore the body of the muscular male slave Ara had possessed all those weeks ago when Pitr had been alive and the Empress had put Sejal’s life into Ara’s hands. Ara had taken the body of a heavy-breasted human woman nearing middle age. The weight of the woman’s chest dragged continuosly at Ara’s back and shoulders.

“Have you sent the Unity an answer about Sejal, Imperial Majesty?” Melthine asked.

“I have not.” The Empress crossed her ankles beneath her simple sky-blue robe. “The situation is delicate. If the Unity goes to war, we will, of course, call on the Belmare Planets and the Five Green Worlds as allies. The Confederation would appeal to the Koloreme Senate and the Micha Protectorates, but the Prism Conglomerate could go either way. If I persuade the Conglomerate to proclaim it would side with the Confederation, the Unity might back down without bloodshed and with only small financial cost to the Confederation. If war actually breaks out, the price for the Congomerate’s aid would go up. The Unity, of course, has probably already sent a delegation to the Conglomerate, and we must move quickly to match it.” She sighed. “Mother Ara, what is your assessment of Sejal’s position?”

Ara shot a sideways glance at Melthine. “I have no opinion at this time, Imperial Majesty. The matter requires...further study.”

“What matter?” Melthine asked. “Is this the subject you declined to discuss in our meeting in the Dream?”

“Yes,” Ara replied simply.

“You may tell him of the duy I laid upon you,” the Empress put in.

Ara did. Melthine met the news with an impassive face. “I see.”

“I can stall the Premier for some time, of course,” the Empress said. “This sort of thing does not move quickly. Look how long it took the Unity merely to admit that young Sejal had slipped through their fingers.”

She leaned forward and the jewels bobbed again. “Practicality says I should give Sejal back to prevent many lives from being lost in a stupid skirmish. I do not think it wise, however, to hand someone with Sejal’s power over to the Unity. That itself might be worse than a war. This is not an easy position to be in, Grandfather and Mother.”

“I can sympathize,” Ara murmured, then quickly added, “Imperial Majesty.”

The Empress leaned back without changing expression. “In any case, it is obvious the Unity knows of Sejal’s power. They would not normally offer war over a single, untrained Silent, even in these volatile circumstances. I am still not sure, however, how they learned of his existence.”

“Other Silent were sensing Sejal in the Dream before we left Rust,” Ara said. “Kendi was just the first. Premiere Yuganovi probably had every Silent in the Unity searching for Sejal, and they finally tracked him down. I suspect that when Sejal possessed the six guard at our ship, it provided the final flare of activity they needed to pinpoint his location.”

“That sounds reasonable,” the Empress said. “However, there is also the chance that a spy was feeding the Unity information. Is it possible this was one of your crewmembers, Mother Ara?”

“I very much doubt it,” Ara said. “Though if you have misgivings, we could question them—and me—in the Dream, since it’s impossible to lie there.”

“Do that,” the Empress ordered. “Though Brother Pitr Haddis died, correct? I do not wish to open wounds, Mother Ara, but is it possible he was the spy?”

Ara’s throat thickened with anger. Pitr a spy? Ludicrous! And now the Empress was questioning his sacrifice. The change in wording hadn’t been lost on Ara, either—”a spy” had become “the spy.” Witch hunt language.

“I don’t think,” Ara said with seething deliberateness, “that Pitr would have ensured our escape and saved our lives at the expense of his own if he were a Unity spy.”

The Empress nodded. “And what of Chin Fen?”

“He was a student at the monastery years ago,” Melthine spoke up, and Ara was glad. It gave her time to regain her composure. “But he left before completing his training. He never reached the Dream. He claims he fled to the Empire of Human Unity because it put humans first and because he was young and foolish.”

“Where is he now?”

“Under house arrest until I can decide what to do with him,” came the reply.

“Is it possible he is the spy? That he can indeed reach the Dream and report information to the Unity?”

Ara shook her head. “Fen figured out who Sejal was long before he leaped aboard my ship. If Fen were spying for the government, he would have turned us in the moment he even suspected we were harboring the wanted Silent.”

“What of your son Benjamin?” the Empress said.

Ara’s mouth fell open in utter shock, as if the Empress had dumped a load of icewater on her head.

“He ran communications on board the Post Script,” the Empress continued relentlessly. “It would have been easy for him to alert the Unity to anything he pleased.”

Ara did the unthinkable. Still kneeling, she turned her back on the Imperial Majesty. Black anger made every muscle as rigid as a brick, and Ara would have launched herself at the Empress’s throat if she had been forced to look at her for one moment more. She stared fixedly at the far end of the hall, boiling with rage.

Serene must you ever remain, she told herself. Serene. Serene.

“Benjamin Rymar,” Melthine answered quietly, “is one of your most faithful subjects, Imperial Majesty. He is devoted to the Children, even though he is not Silent. So are Harenn Mashib and Jack Jameson. I have utter confidence in them all.”

Ara did not turn around. She knew she was risking time in prison for her disrespect, but she couldn’t bring herself to act properly yet.

“Here is my decision, then,” the Empress said. She seemed to be ignoring Ara’s breach. “Two of my slaves will enter the Dream, where lies are impossible, and question all Silent who were on board the Post Script, including you, Mother Ara. I expect it to be a formality and I expect that the Unity learned of Sejal through its own Silent, but we must be sure. Since Chin Fen is not my subject but wishes to defect, he will answer questions under medication. We shall, for the moment, assume Benjamin, Jack, and Harenn are innocent.”

Melthine said nothing. Ara continued to stare at the far wall.

“Mother Ara,” the Empress said in a kinder tone, “I know this is difficult—”

Ara whirled, heedless of Imperial protocol. “You know nothing. First you order me to decide whether an innocent boy should live or die. Then you make a mockery of the Brother who gave his life for mine, and you accuse my son of high treason. Your ass is on a throne, but your head is in a toilet.”

“Ara!” Melthine gasped, horrified. “Imperial Majesty, I beg you to excuse—”

“Calm, Grandfather Melthine,” Empress Kan maja Kalii said gently. She turned her brown eyes on Ara. “I understand more than you know, Mother. Shall I tell you how I spent my day? This morning I ordered emergency famine relief for a suffering planet. The planet is remote, and in order to ensure relief arrives in time to do any good, foodstuffs, medical supplies, and other materials must be shipped in from the closest two planets without delay. Although the Confederation subsidizes everything, it will take time for the subsidies to catch up. This means the relief effort will put a temporary drain on these planets’ economies and there is a good chance it will spark economic recessions that will change hundreds of thousands of lives. It took me over two hours to analyze the factors involved and order the implementation of this plan. In those two hours, five thousand, two hundred and twenty-four of my subjects died of hunger.

“Next, I received word that a minor conflict between a Confederation planet and one of its colonies has escalated into full-scale war because my nephew, who I sent as a mediator, was kidnapped and tortured to death by agitants.”

Ara suppressed a gasp at these words. Kalii continued without changing tone or inflection.

“Hundreds of people have so far died in this war. Now I must send troups to put down this uprising, meaning still more lives will be lost or irrevocably changed, many of them innocent civilians. This is how I spent my afternoon.

“This evening, I sit here discussing the fate of a single boy and a handful of Silent monks while the nephew I loved like a son lies in a bloody grave a thousand light-years away. And I must discuss these things because if I do not, the Unity will declare a war that will make my nephew’s conflict a playground scuffle by comparison.”

With a single swift gesture, Kalii snatched the little jewels that orbited her head into her palm and flung them away. They bounced and scattered like marbles across the white stone floor. “I am long weary of this, Mother Ara. I inherited this crown seventy-two years ago from my father Bolivar the First, and in that time the burden has become no easier to bear. Billions of people live and die by my words, and I sleep with their ghosts every night.

“I am not asking for your pity. I am, however, asking you to understand that you are not the only one who must make difficult decisions or watch the ones you love pay for your mistakes.”

Ara had not moved. Now she bowed her head low, her anger replaced by a shame that flamed her cheeks red and raw. “My deepest apologies, Imperial Majesty. I often berate my former student Brother Kendi for speaking without thinking. It seems I must learn to take my own advice.”

Kan maja Kalii nodded. “You and I are much alike, Mother Adept Araceil. People of our kind see what must be done, and we do it. Only afterward do we find time for tears.”

Ara flushed at the praise, even though she recognized the words as those of a leader trying to raise the morale of a subordinate. Interesting, she thought, at how psychology works even when the recipient is aware of it.

“Have the ships returned, Imperial Majesty?” Melthine asked. “The ones that were sent to investigate the Silent enveloped by the disturbance in the Dream?”

The Empress shook her head. “Not yet. They have no doubt arrived by now and are investigating, but then it will take them some time to get back.”

“Once they arrive, can’t the Silent on board the ships simply report back?” Ara said.

“We have been studying the disturbance, Ara, and we advised the Empress not to send Silent to those planets,” Melthine put in.

“What?” Ara said, wondering, since she had already flouted Imperial protocol and gotten away with it, if she could push a little further and sit cross-legged instead of kneeling. Kendi must be rubbing off on her. “Why not?”

“Dream mechanics,” Melthine said. “Space means nothing to Silent within the Dream, but it does to non-Silent minds outside of it. When we enter the Dream, remember, we build our world from the real-world minds closest to us before we can move on to other minds. We don’t know what would happen if Silent tried to reach the Dream using minds from within the disturbance. Better first to learn what happened to the Silent already there.”

A tickle at the base of Ara’s skull warned her that her drugs were beginning to wear off and she would have to leave soon. As before, it seemed as if the Empress could read Ara’s mind.

“Your time must be running short,” she said. “You have your instructions. I will expect to hear from you soon regarding these matters. Grandfather. Mother.”

“Imperial Majesty,” they replied together. Then Ara let go of her body.

A dark room, the same one she always encountered before possessing an Imperial Silent, popped into existence around her. The two bits of light that represented the Silent slaves they had possessed floated in front of her, and Grandfather Melthine, no longer young and muscular, stood to one side. The furry, rotund Seneschal, Imperial silver chain hanging around its neck, ushered them out and courteously bade them good-bye. Behind them, the Dream foyer slipped into nothingness and disappeared entirely, leaving them on the familiar empty plain. In the distance, ever-present and almost taken for granted now, was the red and black chaos.

Ara had said space meant nothing in the Dream, and this was normally true. Where she was depended on where she wanted to be. If Ara thought she and her garden were worlds away from, say, Gretchen’s ship, so it was. If Ara thought the ship was so close that the mast was visible over the garden wall, so it would be. If two Silent had contradictory ideas of what reality looked like, for example if Gretchen felt Ara was far away and Ara was sure Gretchen was near by, the strongest will won out.

All this meant nothing when it came to the distant darkness. No matter how hard Ara concentrated, it stubbornly loomed on the horizon, perhaps two kilometers away. She could get closer if she wanted, but not farther.

“Ara!” Melthine grabbed her arm and pointed. “Look!”

The dark chaos, pulsing with its scarlet anger, was growing. It moved like a thundercloud, engulfing the plain of the Dream. The whispers around Ara went silent for a moment, then leaped into hysterical babble.

“We should leave the Dream,” Ara urged. “Before—”

The ground rumbled beneath them. Lightning arced from the spreading darkness, stabbing the ground ahead of it like the antennae of a hungry insect. The darkness swirled like a red-cracked thundercloud. Melthine stared at it.

“Go!” Ara said, giving him a small push.

A scarlet lightning bolt smashed into Melthine’s chest. Thunder blasted Ara off her feet and knocked her several meters away. She landed hard and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. Her ears rang and her nose was bleeding. The ground shook again. Stunned, Ara stared stupidly upward, unable to move or think. Then she remembered Melthine. Panic jigged in her mind like a frightened frog. Ara forced herself to roll over. Melthine lay in a boneless heap perhaps ten meters away. She got up and ran toward him, ignoring the pain in her ears and her head. This was the Dream. There would be no pain.

The pain remained with her as she knelt beside Melthine. His eyes were closed and his skin was clammy. He was still breathing, though the breaths came fast and shallow. A black hole had been burnt in his chest. Horrified, Ara felt for his pulse. But even as she did so, the breath hissed heavily from his lungs. He went still and vanished beneath Ara’s fingertips.

“No!” she cried. “Melthine!”

But the plain was empty.

Another bolt of lightning struck the ground and thunder crashed close enough to make Ara’s ears ring anew. The darkness was still expanding, rolling toward Ara like a juggernaut. Swiftly Ara quashed her grief and gathered together her concentration. At the last moment, the words of the Empress echoed in her mind.

You and I are much alike, Mother Araceil Rymar. People of our kind see what must be done, and we do it.

Ara opened her eyes. The familiar ceiling of her own house was above her. Quickly she sat up.

“Bruna,” she said frantically, “call emergency services.”

Wordlessly the house computer made the connection. In hurried tones, Ara started to tell the operator what had happened, but the woman interrupted.

“Emergency services are with him now, Mother Adept,” the operator’s disembodied voice said through the computer speakers. “Grandfather Melthine wears a wristband monitor when he enters the Dream and we were alerted. He will be transported to the medical center.”

Ara disconnected and called the medical center. Melthine hadn’t arrived yet, of course, so she made herself to wait an agonizing half hour. There was no point in going down there—they wouldn’t let a non-relative see him in the emergency room.

Ara called the medical center again. Melthine was alive but comatose. Only close family members would be allowed to visit. Ara disconnected and passed a hand over her eyes, not sure whether she should be relieved that Melthine was still alive or upset over what had happened.

The house around her was quiet, and now it felt eerie, as if something were waiting to jump out of the Dream straight at her. There was plenty of empty space. In addition to several guest rooms, a dining room, living room, and computer playroom, the house contained Ara’s office and her Dream Temple. The latter was merely Ara’s fanciful term for the comfortably-furnished room she liked to use when she entered the Dream.

The house was, like most Bellerophon houses, done in glass and brown wood, and it was located only a short walk from the monastery. A wraparound balcony looked out over the misty leaves and branches, and flower boxes full of colorful blooms brightened the balcony rail. A walkway connected her the balcony to the main thoroughfares, and neighbors had similar houses above and below her in the talltree. Ara shamelessly enjoyed the place. After everything she went through—was still going through—as a Mother Adept, she deserved every penny of the generous stipend that had allowed her to buy the house ten-odd years ago.

“Attention! Attention!” Bruna said. “Emergency-level newscasts located.”

Ara stiffened. Most house computers constantly scanned the news services for stories that might be of interest to their owners. Bruna was no exception. An emergency-level cast coming right now could only be related to the Dream incident that had nearly killed Melthine.

“Bruna, put recent newscasts on screen,” she ordered. “Text and video. No holograms.”

One wall flashed with videos and words. Ara watched and read. So far over two hundred Silent had been on the receiving end of some sort of Dream onslaught, and the numbers were still coming in. They had been swallowed by pits, struck by lightning, ripped apart by tornados. Some had been attacked by their own Dream furnishings. Half of the two hundred were dead. The disturbance had expanded to engulf another nine planets—twenty-eight now in all. The Silent on those worlds were unreachable through the Dream.

Ara’s blood chilled. These were just reports from the Independence Confederation and the worlds friendly to it. How many Silent had been attacked on worlds that didn’t report such things? What was going on?

A link to a related story caught Ara’s eye, and she followed it, partly to get the frightening words and pictures off her wall. She could have disconnected, but the house was empty and Ara didn’t want silent rooms right now.

After a moment’s reading the new story, Ara’s forehead crinkled. A new study showed rates of depression on three separate worlds had risen sharply in the last six months, as were incidents of domestic violence, violent crime, and suicide. Each of the three worlds was unrelated, except for the fact that a pair of them were two of the nineteen worlds originally swallowed by the black chaos. The third world was close by. The report had been released just before the engulfment, but with the recent attacks on Silent, someone had dug it up and re-released it.

An increase in domestic violence, violent crime, and suicide. Related? The Dream was, according to some theorists, made of all sentient minds in the universe. Would a world-wide increase in depression have an impact on the Dream?

Or would it be the other way around?

Ara got up to pace the hardwood floors of her bedroom. There had to be a relationship. The chaos. Depression rates. Sejal. It was frustrating. A piece of this was missing, and Ara was sure if she had it, she would know what was going on. And the longer it remained a mystery, the more difficult everything would become. The Dream was getting more and more dangerous by the minute. If this kept up, communication between planets would die, or at least be dealt a severe blow. Governments, corporations, law enforcement agencies, and millions of individuals depended on the Dream. Messages and information that had once been instantaneous would take weeks or months if they were relegated to slipspace courier.

“Bruna,” she said, “access economic and market news databases. Analyze overall trends in trading over the last three months and compare with previous decade. Answer question: are overall market values up, down, or steady? Answer question: is inflation up, down, or steady? Answer question: is selling of stock up, down, or steady?”

“Please specify governments or planets.”

“All governments and planets in database.”

“Working.” Pause. “Analysis complete. Question: are market values overall up, down, or steady? Answer: markets in all reporting governments are down. Question: is inflation up, down, or steady? Answer: inflation in all reporting governments is up. Question: is selling of stock up, down, or steady? Answer: selling of stock in all reporting governments is up.”

Ara nodded grimly. She was no economist and only had a vague idea of how buying, selling, and investing worked. However, it was easy to see that the markets were already showing a strain. Some investors and companies were getting worried enough to send early ripples through the economies of several interplanetary governments.

Ara wandered over to a low table with a wooden incence holder on it and lit a stick. Sweet, lightly-scented smoke floated about the room. At one time, governments and companies had functioned amazingly well with slow communication. On early Earth, it had taken weeks or even months for messages to cross the ocean, yet several countries had ruled colonies thousands of miles away. Modern governments and corporations, however, were another matter entirely. They had been created with and were maintained by instant communication. Rulers and executive officers were used to making hands-on decisions for branches and worlds that lay months away by slipship. All that would disappear if the Dream were disrupted. Even the small delays caused by the current situation were causing markets to dip.

The coal at the tip of the incense stick glowed red, and gray smoke continued to trickle upward like a tiny reverse waterfall. Other thoughts Ara had been putting off crowded her mind, now that she knew Melthine was safe.

Thoughts about war.

The Empress had said a war was brewing between the Unity and the Confederaton, a war that would probably never happen if Ara killed Sejal. The Empress hadn’t said so, but Ara knew she was thinking it. Giving Sejal back to the Unity was not a possibility—that would cause more problems than it solved. Wouldn’t it be better just to kill Sejal? What if war broke out and Ben were killed? He would be dead because Ara couldn’t bring herself to raise a simple knife in his defense. The thought was unbearable.

But it wasn’t Sejal’s fault he could do what he could do. He had done nothing wrong. And Ara had seen nothing to indicate that Sejal would abuse his power.

Ara waved the incense stick through the air. Smoke trailed after it, leaving fuzzy gray streaks in the air. Unfortunately, the universe—and the Unity—didn’t care about intentions. The fact that Sejal existed was enough to start a war. Her decision came down to simple mathematics. The death of Sejal versus the death of thousands. The death of Sejal versus the death of Ben.

People of our kind see what must be done, and we do it.

A tear trickled down Ara’s cheek. Deep down, she had known there was only one answer. She had known it from the moment the Empress had spoken those dreadful words on that dreadful day.

You are but the scalpel that does the bidding of the doctor.

Slowly, as if hypnotized, Ara set the incense down and left the Dream Temple. She went to her study and lifted a small trapdoor cunningly concealed to look like part of the wooden floor. Beneath was the door to a safe. She let the lock scan her retina, fingerprints, and voice. The locks released with a firm thump. From the safe, Ara removed a snub-nosed pistol and checked the charge. Full.

Ara knew how to use the pistol. All Children received at least basic instruction in energy weapons. When fired, this one disrupted electrochemical processes in nerve cells. At lower power, it stunned. At high power, it killed. Ara set the power as high as it would go. She put the pistol into her pocket and headed out the front door.

People of our kind see what must be done, and we do it.

Ara checked her ocular implant. It was still early morning of the day after the Post Script had landed and Kendi had taken Sejal down to the dormitory. If the pattern for new arrivals from poor backgrounds held true, Sejal had first gone shopping yesterday, probably with Kendi. Today, Sejal would register for classes and be given time to explore and settle in. Tomorrow would be his first day of formal instruction. Since it was still early, Sejal was doubtless in his room sleeping.

The walk to the monastery students’ dormitory took half an hour. Ara knew she was walking to put off the inevitable, but she couldn’t bring herself to snag a gondola or take the monorail. The time passed as if in a dream. A few early-rising students saluted her as she passed them on the swaying walkways, but Ara barely noticed.

In the dormitory foyer, she asked for and received directions to Sejal’s room. As she walked the hallway, Ara put her hand on the pistol in her pocket. No doubt there would be a public outcry. No doubt Ara would be ostracized despite interference from the Empress. At the Imperial Majesty’s insistence, Ara might retain her position as Mother Adept, but that wouldn’t stop the whispers and pointed fingers.

At least the whisperers would be alive to point.

Ara found herself at Sejal’s door. Blood pounded in her ears and her hand shook as she raised her fist to knock.

The door swung open at her touch. It hadn’t been locked, or even closed all the way. Puzzled, Ara stepped into the room. No one was inside.

The built-up tension vanished so quickly, it left Ara weak and shaky. She sat down on the unmade bed. The place was still austere and spartan, with nothing to indicate the personality of the room’s inhabitant. Not surprising. Sejal had come to the monastery with almost nothing, and he’d only been there for two days. Hardly enough time to accumulate more possessions than a few clothes. The bed hadn’t even been made up—the linens still sat neatly folded on the mattress. Odd.

At that moment the significance of the door came to her. It hadn’t been just unlocked. It had been open a crack. Hard to believe someone who had grown up in a slum would leave his door unlocked, let alone standing open. Ara fumbled for a moment, trying to remember the name of the dormitory’s computer.

“Baran,” she said, “where is Sejal Dasa?”

“Sejal Dasa is in his quarters.”

This was obviously not the case. Ara looked around. A scarlet glitter caught her eye. On Sejal’s desk in plain sight lay his ruby student’s ring. The ring carried a tracer which allowed the monastery computer system to track students and monks alike. Although it was common practice to remove the ring for privacy or other reasons, this didn’t seem to be the case. It felt wrong.

Ara did a cursory search of Sejal’s room. No clothes hung in the closet. Maybe Kendi hadn’t taken him shopping yet after all, or maybe that’s where Sejal was now. No, the shops wouldn’t open for another hour at least and the bed had clearly not been slept in last night. Something else occurred to Ara, and she searched the room again, this time more thoroughly. She came up empty.

Mother Adept Araceil Rymar sat heavily on Sejal’s bed. His flute was nowhere in the room. Ara’s hands went cold. No flute, no clothes, unmade bed, a door standing open. It all pointed to one thing.

Sejal Dasa was gone.