“It is at that, Colonel. However, I’m afraid you won’t find it in any library. I have the only copy in existence. I am hesitant to show it to you, but I’m sure it will prove my assertions that League historians are seriously in error about how the early felines were treated.”
Still Water opened the satchel and pulled out a book. She set it on the desk in front of Zheng and closed the satchel back.
Zheng leaned over to study the book without picking it up. It was in poor shape and looked as if it would fall apart at the slightest touch. The cover was not dirty, but it was well worn, and the spine was torn away in a couple of places. It was evident to Zheng the book had been read many times by many people.
Zheng pulled his reading spectacles from his forehead and placed them on the end of his nose. He studied the book more closely before deciding to pick it up. There didn’t appear to be a printed title on the cover, but he could make out handwriting near the top. He held it up to read what it said. It was a single word in cursive English—Delta.
Zheng put the fragile book back down instead of opening it. “What is this? It looks like a child’s diary.”
“It’s much more than that, Colonel,” Still Water answered. “It’s a very important piece of my family’s heritage. It’s more valuable than all the books about felines in all the libraries of the League combined.”
“That’s quite a claim, Cadet,” Zheng said. “There are ten very thoroughly researched volumes about feline history on my approved reading list alone. Most of them written by feline historians—”
“Feline historians who only know what humans have taught them about our origins,” Still Water blurted out, without regards to protocol. “There are no books in the archives written by felines or even humans who were actually there when my race was created. That makes this journal more important than anything ever written about my people.”
Zheng was about to censure the cadet for insubordination but held himself in check. Still Water’s expression was not one of defiance, but exasperation. Zheng was unsure how to handle the situation. He would have to fail the cadet if he couldn’t bring her around.
The syllabus for every class taught at the Academy was inspected by the subject’s governing bureau in the Central Government. A list of ideas the students should have a firm grasp of to achieve a passing grade was generated for each. To date, Still Water had not proven she had a workable understanding of any of the concepts for this subject.
The look of righteous indignation in Still Water’s eyes turned to one of pleading. As Zheng looked back at her, remembrances of his own battles with official spins on historical events started coming to mind.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Zheng told the cadet. “I’ll look at this journal and if it turns out to have any historical significance, I’ll grant you an exception and allow it as an ancillary source, for this essay only. I will also review the answers you missed on the first two tests in light of this development.”
“Yessir, Colonel,” Still Water replied. She brightened up and even smiled.
Zheng looked back and smiled himself, even though he was still concerned about the cadet. Having strong convictions and questioning authority was not bad in and of itself, but it certainly made a chosen life in the military difficult. Zheng knew about that firsthand.
Chapter 5
11-May-2210
Aboard the SS Neil A. Armstrong.
Morning Grass pounded on Russo’s cabin door. She trembled as she waited on Russo to open it, recollecting the dream that had just startled her to awakening. She feared she would forget something important before she had the chance to relate it.
Russo opened the cabin door and wordlessly invited the feline in. She rubbed her eyes as she closed the door back and motioned for Morning Grass to sit on the bunk. “Have you called Peggy? If this is truly a memory, she needs to know. It could be very important.”
“No, I haven’t. I wanted to talk to you first.”
Russo rubbed her eyes again and shrugged her shoulders. “Why? If you need advice, my first and only suggestion would be to talk to Peggy.”
“I understand,” Morning Grass answered. “That isn’t why I wanted to talk to you first. I wanted to tell you what I saw before Colonel Stiles started analyzing the Devil out of it and made me forget things.”
Russo laughed and gave Morning Grass a nod to continue.
“I saw my mother. I saw her clearly and I can remember every feature on her face. I can remember her hair and eye color, how tall she was compared to me, and I can remember her voice. I can hear it ringing in my ears even now.”
“Slow down just a bit,” Russo told the excited feline. “Let’s take this a step at a time so I can catch up.” She pulled the chair from under her desk, turned it to face Morning Grass and sat down. “Now, please describe the dream from the beginning.”
“I was sitting by myself,” Morning Grass explained. “I was hiding away from the other children.”
“Why were you hiding?”
“The other girls were making fun of me. I don’t remember exactly why, but I want to believe it was because I developed earlier than the rest of the girls in my year.”
“School girls are often catty with one another,” Russo thought. She started to say it out loud but caught herself. “Where were you hiding?”
“Behind an old planting shed.”
“Describe it to me.” Russo pulled out her tablet and turned on the voice memo function to record the rest of the conversation.
“It was built out of planks, had a metal roof and walls made of some sort of corrugated material,” Morning Grass said. “It’s firmly ingrained in my memory now. I can even remember what the wall felt like against my back. The day was quite warm, but the wall felt cool.”
The detail of Morning Grass’ description took Russo by surprise. Even under hypnosis, the feline had so far been unable to bring forth a depiction this thorough of any memory they had explored.
“If you can remember that much, I really think we should wake Peggy,” Russo said.
“Later. Just allow me to finish.”
Russo nodded. “Tell me more about what you were doing.”
“I was watching a mummy cat take her kittens out exploring.” A warm smile came over Morning Grass’ face. “They were adorable. They were wild, though. I had been going there and watching them for a week, or so. I hoped they would get used to seeing me and let me touch them, but I don’t think they ever did.”
“Peggy needs to hear all of this. Dreams are highly symbolic. I think she would know what to look for and what these things mean.”
“I need to tell you a couple of things first,” Morning Grass insisted. “I want you to hear them from me and not second-hand from Colonel Stiles. This is a memory, not just a dream.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. I can’t explain why, but I’m sure of it. Now, let me tell you the rest before I start to forget things.”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“While I was sitting there, my mother came looking for me. I don’t know if she knew I was there or just happened upon me by luck. I had my gloves off and I was sure she would scold me, but she didn’t.”
Russo thought back to the incident in the Regeneration Recovery Room. As per Russo’s orders, Morning Grass’ claws were covered after she attacked a medical technician while in a confused state. The Forward Command insisted the claws remain covered, even after Russo and Stiles had decided the incident was isolated and wouldn’t be repeated. The more Russo heard, the more she believed this to be a subconscious reinterpretation of that event.
It also occurred to Russo that gloves may have become symbolic to the feline psyche. It was possible they represented something entirely different in Morning Grass’ dream, but only an experienced psychotherapist like Stiles could make that determination.
Morning Grass continued with her story. She now had tears in her eyes. “My mother helped me put the gloves ba
ck on and led me to the mess hall for lunch. When school was over for the day, she took me to get a new pair because mine were too small. She got some new pajamas for me, too. I was in heaven.”
“New pajamas,” Russo asked. She found the thought amusing, but was unsure why until the metaphor the cat’s pajamas came to mind. She successfully fought the urge to say anything out loud. “Damn my off center sense of humor, anyway.”
“I had outgrown the ones from the last visit after only wearing them for a week. I was growing faster than the other children in my age group. My classmates’ teasing made me feel different, but the way my mother treated me made me feel special and unique. Does that make sense to you?”
Russo smiled fondly. “Perfect sense. That’s how it is with my dad.”
“She took me to her home after that,” Morning Grass said. “I went straight to the library while she made dinner.”
“Library?”
“Yes. I remember a library. I haven’t seen it in any of my dreams up until now. If I close my eyes, I can see the books. All of my favorite titles were there. I must have read them as a child. That’s why they all seem so familiar to me when I read them now.”
Morning Grass’ description convinced Russo that she was subconsciously fabricating some of the details of the dream. It was Russo who steered her toward the ship’s electronic library as a diversion to help her cope with the stresses of her physical therapy, the disciplinary proceedings she faced and the new existence she was adjusting to. Russo had even recommended some titles to get Morning Grass started.
In their conversations, Morning Grass admitted to Russo that the only paper books she could ever remember seeing were equipment manuals in the form of pamphlets. Electronic books were all that was available on the Armstrong, but Russo found some holograms of leather bounds and paperbacks in the ship’s cultural library to show the feline. Russo expected Morning Grass to describe the ornate antique editions she had seen in the holograms.
“What did the books look like,” Russo asked.
“They all looked the same,” Morning Grass said. “They all had blue cardboard covers and were printed on reporting stock.” She wiped a tear from her eye. “They were all in English and very small print to preserve paper.”
“Can you tell me more about the home,” Russo inquired. “Describe it a room at a time.”
“It was small. There was a front room with a sitting area on one side and a kitchenette with a small dining table on the other. In the back there was a lavatory between the library and the bedroom. I can even remember the photos my mother had fastened to the wall.”
“Let me call Peggy,” Russo said. “She will want to put you back under to see if she can help you remember more. She won’t want to wait.”
Morning Grass agreed and Russo picked up her locator to call Stiles.
“Before we go,” Morning Grass said, “I need to tell you something that frightens me.”
“Sure,” Russo replied.
“Like I said before, I saw my mother and I remember her clearly.” Morning Grass was visibly uncomfortable talking about it. “She looked a bit older, but you could have passed for sisters.”
Russo took a deep breath and asked, “You’re one-hundred-percent certain? Because at dinner yesterday evening you told me you had been seeing me in your dreams.”
Morning Grass wiped another tear away. “I know, but this wasn't you. I’m sure of it.”
Chapter 6
“I’m afraid you can’t take everything you saw in the dream as factual,” Stiles explained. “If the dream happened exactly as you described, I believe much of it was your sub-conscious trying to speak to your conscious mind through archetypes and symbols.”
“About what,” Morning Grass asked. “Why would my sub-conscious want to convince me I had an adoptive human mother who looks almost exactly like Major Russo?” She rubbed her eyes and then the back of her neck. She sighed in frustration.
“I don’t have all the answers for you and this was only one dream. I can’t say how much of this dream we can take as actual memory and how much of it is only a phantasm.” Stiles stood and walked over to her bunk where Morning Grass lay and squeezed her shoulder. “This is a breakthrough, but we’re still at the beginning of this process. We have a long way to go.”
Morning Grass looked up at Stiles and smiled. Stiles returned the smile and squeezed the feline’s shoulder more firmly.
“I know it’s late, and you’re due to accompany Dawn Marie to the surface at 0600, but I would like to put you under and talk for a few moments.”
“Of course, Colonel,” Morning Grass replied.
Stiles used guided imagery and pre-conditioned triggers to put Morning Grass under quickly.
“What were you doing right before you went to sleep?”
“I started reading Pride and Prejudice,” Morning Grass replied. “It’s probably the fifth time, now. It’s my favorite. I was in the middle of Gone with the Wind, but for some reason I decided I wanted to read something else tonight.”
“What made you change your selection,” Stiles asked. “I’m just curious.”
“I don’t know for sure,” Morning Grass replied. “I wasn’t bored with the other book. I just decided I wanted to read some of this one. I’ve been under a lot of stress lately and it always calms me down when I read it. I get lost in it. Everything around me disappears. It’s as if I’m home. The book just speaks to me.”
“What does it say to you?” Stiles had read the book as a young college student, twenty-five years ago, but not since. She was anxious to see why it affected Morning Grass, who had never even been to Earth, so deeply.
“This may sound silly, but it comforts me. It tells me that while no family is perfect, having a family is important. The person you finally become is a result of lessons learned from each member. Even if the only good you take away is not to follow any bad examples they set.”
“Who is your family,” Stiles asked.
“Teacher has been the only family I can remember having up until I met Major Russo. Dawn Marie is the closest thing I have to a sister, and I love her. She’s been willing to sacrifice so much for me. I will never be able to repay her.”
“Do you think Dawn Marie loves you in return?”
“Certainly, Colonel. Why else would she have clashed with the command over me, time and time again?” Morning Grass fell silent for a few seconds. “Just like my mother.”
“Please think about that for a while,” Stiles suggested hurriedly. “I don’t want you to lose that thought. In fact, I would like for you to assimilate that line of reasoning and fully remember it when you wake.” She tapped some notes into her tablet and then asked Morning Grass to tell her about the dream from the beginning.
Morning Grass recounted the dream in great detail. She told Stiles about the kittens, the gloves, the compound and how this human had given her a home and made her feel loved.
“I sat down next to her and she brushed my hair,” Morning Grass related fondly. “She loved to brush my hair. We sat there and I kept looking at her in the mirror as she fussed over me.” Morning Grass burst into tears. “She told me she wanted me to be her little girl.”
“Was this the only time you remember her brushing your hair,” Stiles asked.
“No,” Morning Grass said between sobs. “She always fussed over my hair when I visited.”
“How often did you visit this human in her home?”
“I got one week every month. The other girls were jealous because we were only supposed to have family time four weeks every year.”
“What was the reason,” Stiles asked. “Why did you have more family time?”
“Mom told me I was special. Since I was growing up faster than the rest of my group, I needed extra attention.”
“Why do you think you’re able to remember this now?”
“I don’t know, Colonel. I just think it’s time I did.”
“Okay,” Stiles said with a la
ugh, “we’re going to try a little mind exercise. Are you okay with that?”
“Sure, Colonel.”
“First, I want you to tell me your name, where you are and what you’re doing right at this moment so I can be sure of a couple of things.”
Morning Grass answered without hesitation. “My name is She Who Stalks the Yearling Fawn While the Dew is on the Morning Grass. I am in your cabin on the Armstrong. We are discussing a dream I had earlier tonight.”
Stiles smiled once more. “That’s correct.” She thought carefully about how to approach the next suggestion. She didn’t want to lead Morning Grass into any false memories. “Now, I want you to think about what you saw in the dream when you looked into the mirror, and I want you to pay special attention to the reflection of the human you call your mother.”
“Okay. I am, Colonel.”
“Now, I want you to imagine you have a holograph of her in your hand that looks exactly like that reflection. Are you holding the holograph?”
“Yes I am. It looks exactly the same.”
“Good. I’m going to ask Major Russo to step in for a moment. I want you to look at her and then hold up that holograph and compare it with her. Then I want you to make a mental note of the differences you see.”
“I can do that, Colonel.”
“Okay then,” Stiles requested. “Please sit up and open your eyes.”
Morning Grass sat up on the edge of Stiles’ bunk.
Stiles opened her cabin door and invited Russo in. Russo had been sitting on the floor of the passageway just outside the cabin and was happy to oblige.
Stiles told Russo to stand for a moment and allow Morning Grass to get a good look at her. Russo giggled nervously, but complied.
After a few seconds, Stiles gave Morning Grass a suggestion to deepen her trance once more. Morning Grass lay back down.
“Did you compare the holograph of your mother to Major Russo,” Stiles asked.
“Yes, I did, Colonel.”
Russo was confused, but didn’t ask what was going on.
War Orphans (The Terra Nova Chronicles) Page 3