Dreamer

by Dave Gordon

  She simply accompanied me by mutual agreement after that. I still have no idea why. I am not particularly handsome. I am graying and overweight.

  I can't pronounce her name. She doesn't believe I will ever need to use it anyway. If we meet an elf, which happens occasionally, they already know her name. She disappears if we meet a human so introductions are not a problem.

  I have learned a lot about elves after spending so much time with her. She became distressed by the noise I made while walking. She taught me how to walk like an elf. I can now walk through dry leaves hardly making a sound. She can walk without making any sound at all. Elves know the totality of nature from second to second. They know how the grass reacts to a slight breeze. They know if the insects are frightened. They can even tell what the fish are thinking at the bottom of a lake. She has taught me the rudiments of performing this feat. I cannot perform any of the wonders she can, but I have learned enough to understand it. When she looses an arrow at a target, she is not aiming at the target, per se. She is sensing how the total situation combines to put her arrow where she wants it. This is a hard idea to grasp, but she thinks the arrow's path more than she aims it.

  Elves have very little to say to each other when they meet. They all seem to know the same thing, which is everything. The conversation is mostly limited to pleasantries and reminisces about their last meeting.

  Do not ask an elf what they are thinking. I asked what she thought about the way ice forms swirls on a still pond. She replied that it was pleasant. I supposed she had more to say about it so I asked what she really thought about it. She began with a discussion of the delicate interaction of water crystals against the wind and temperature. She continued on to the peaceful sleep of the hibernating creatures under the ice. She remarked on the way the ice reflects sound and how the trees recognize it. She said the trees know precisely where the ice is and how deep it extends. I interrupted her after an hour and thanked her. She said that since humans have a short life, she confines her speech to that which will not overly consume much of my life. I told her she was kind.

  Her efforts to avoid consuming my life seem to stifle conversation. I asked why she doesn't sleep. She said she does sleep. I asked how far she could walk without stopping. She said as far as she needed to. I asked her how she disappeared. She said she does not disappear. This is representative of the majority of our conversations.

  We leave the falls and start toward the city of Hak. I have a minor chore to accomplish which consists entirely of meeting the King and extending to him the best wishes and heartfelt appreciation of the Ainbor Republic.

  I take the winding trail away from the falls and down the canyon to the plain below. I am still frustrated by her curt speech.

  “I enjoy your company,” she says.

  I wheel around to face her. “What?” I ask in disbelief.

  “I find you pleasing,” she says. “I followed you for some time before I shot the rabbit at our first meeting. I saw you place a grub back into a rotten log you had accidentally broken. I have seen you bury earthworms stranded by a hard rain. I watched you repair the entrance to an anthill even though the ants were attacking you. The lowest things are not beneath you. Your reverence for all of creation is elf-like. You are very amusing. You have shown me kindness in all ways at all times. I have something to ask you that will be difficult to accept or understand. It will require a great deal of discussion. I will not think less of you if you deny my request. Are you willing to hear it?”

  It was more than I had heard her say in the last three months. She had never before paid me a direct compliment. I could not imagine what she could possibly ask me that would be so important. “Please ask,” I say.

  “Will you be my mate?” she asks plainly.

  The shock of the moment makes my head swim. The thrilling prospect of holding her had never before entered my mind. She is too much a thing a celestial beauty to hold. My words issue forth as if from far away. “Yes,” I say.

  Her ivory skin is absolutely flawless, no blemish of any kind. One would imagine a life of several thousand years might result in a scar or two, but none are present. To hold her is to join minds and to understand why speaking is not her preferred mode of communication. She seems a bit passionless although she is quite animated. She assures me that she is reaching the heights of pleasure.

  I lay under a blanket of warm furs that she has fashioned from rabbit skins. She sits naked hugging her knees by the fire. The air is brisk and my breath forms clouds as I speak. “Aren't you cold?” I ask.

  She says, “It does not matter.”

  “It matters to me.”

  “This cold does not matter, it does not mean anything.”

  I cannot imagine what she could possibly mean, a common occurrence. “Please explain,” I say, phrasing the question as an elf might in order to avoid the long series of questions that would otherwise be required.

  “This cold will not cause me to freeze to death or suffer frost bite. This cold is a mere nuisance. Therefore, it does not matter.”

  She is beautiful beyond words, an indescribably luminous being, yet she has chosen me. It is a blessing beyond any that I am worthy of. I still cannot fathom why. “Would you like me to warm you anyway?” I ask hopefully.

  “Yes,” she says without hesitation as she rises.

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  Chapter 2

  Addenda to Lambda Sector Status Report

  This addendum pertains to a matter of some interest.

  A small ship was detected approaching at sub-light speed during fifth watch, first tri-annum, first duty cycle. The ship did not respond to standard challenges. Defense protocols were suspended as the craft was small and apparently not armed. A utility cruiser intercepted the craft.

  Pressurized entry into the craft was successfully accomplished. The craft was a manned probe from Alpha One that had been launched during the time of the Pioneer Corps. The logs indicate the ship was launched during the Pioneer Corps explorations. Pioneer Corps merged with the Star Systems group shortly after the launch. Several craft were overlooked during the transfer and examination of corporate records, this being one of them. The craft had been heavily scavenged and was only marginally habitable. Many of the ship's systems had been converted to uses other than their intended purpose. The attached visual record only approximates the complete disarray and chaos of the ship's interior. A search ensued to ascertain if any of the crew had survived. An adult human male was discovered alive in the suspended animation unit.

  The lone crew person, a mister Van Ellen, has been aboard the craft for three hundred and twenty-two Alpha One years.

  Apparently, Mr. Ellen awoke approximately twelve years after launch by some emergency. The suspended animation unit failed. Efforts to contact Alpha One failed. Mr. Van Ellen began to adapt the ship to long-term habitation by making key changes such as innovative food systems modifications and interior structural modifications.

  However, as might be expected, Mr. Ellen's mental condition began to deteriorate. He became a drug-addicted alcoholic. His personal logs chronicle his decline vividly.

  At some point in his ordeal, he began modifying the suspended animation unit. The result was a virtual-reality neural interface that would be the envy of any commercial company now producing such equipment. Even though the suspended animation unit would not function as intended, the unit was modified to produce the same effect in a virtual-reality context.

  Mr. Ellen is in satisfactory physical condition, but his mental functions were degraded due to the long-term exposure to the suspended animation unit modifications. We do not believe he knows he has been rescued. We have moved the sleep unit with Pioneer Ellen still in it to the utility cruiser. Attempting to disconnect Mr. Ellen destabilized his brain functions.

  Both the food unit and suspended animation unit modifications are of commercial value. The modification he engineered to produce grain alcohol will be
extremely profitable. A Human Management Specialist has transferred control of his intellectual properties to an investment firm. His financial situation should be well adequate to provide for his needs.

  The ship records include a great amount of holographic recordings created by Mr. Ellen. These are also commercially viable, although the personal nature of most of the material makes it unsuitable for the general viewing audience.

  The ship will be salvaged and scuttled as no owner of record can be located. Mr. Ellen has been remanded to the civilian authorities for medical evaluation. We anticipate a lengthy period of analysis will be required in order to rehabilitate him.

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  Chapter 3

  Case Ellen, Van—no credentials

  Human Management accepted the transfer of Mr. Van Ellen on fifth watch, first tri-annum, third duty cycle. Mr. Van Ellen survived a failed space mission but sustained significant injuries as a result of the mission. Mr. Van Ellen required five years of medical treatment to recover from the injuries he suffered during his journey. The treatment was not entirely successful. His progress has been slow. The Lambda One Medical Officer has declared him as fit as they are capable of making him.

  Mr. Van Ellen lacks any personal identification assignments due to the circumstances of his failed mission. Several cycles were required to establish an identity for him due to the unusual circumstances of his case.

  Mr. Van Ellen suffers from severe psychosis and is unfit for duty. His financial holdings are sufficient to pay for his care until he can be processed and released. His financial proxy has secured a comfortable vehicle for him and arranged for supplies to outfit the craft. Mr. Ellen will be deported upon establishment of his credentials as he is incapable of adequately performing any duty.

  Mr. Ellen will undoubtedly face many challenges due to his unusual identification record and his mental condition. Human Management has taken the highly unusual step of linking Mr. Ellen to another deportee to aid in his support. This linking will provide Mr. Ellen a proxy during financial transactions and other occurrences requiring identification.

  The available choices for this linkage are limited. Human Management has located a female deemed unsuitable for social processing. She is reported as being disruptive and prone to minor criminal acts, but she is not dangerously violent. The prospects of a secure financial future caring for Mr. Van Ellen, and the threat of a lengthy rehabilitation should she fail, should be sufficient inducements to ensure her cooperation.

  Mr. Van Ellen and Ms. Siln During will be deported as soon as their credentials are registered.

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  Chapter 4

  The Sirens of Delphi

  My ship has at last come aground landing me among the enigmatic and stern inhabitants of Delphi. Many hands run across my face and body as they examine the new and exotic creature who has fallen into their midst. I am ushered from the abode of tribal chiefs to the abode of warriors. I face constant questioning by the inquisitive horde. Their language is rough and unfamiliar but I can make out a few phrases. I tell them who I am and about my mission of peace and exploration. They want to know everything about my mission and me. I answer as best I can.

  Satisfied that I pose no threat, they take me to the palace of the King. My long journey has been one of deprivation and desire, but here all wounds are healed. The beautiful alien sky stretches beyond my hopes. The release and freedom are as palatable as the fine meals the attentive natives serve. Beautiful and exotic alien maidens are in abundance. My long sojourn has been devoid of such simple pleasures as the smile upon a pretty face.

  I have tarried long in the warm and inviting bath of affection the population has poured over me. However, my stay on Delphi is coming to an end. I shall leave to continue my explorations to the furthest points of deep space. I am presented with a new craft in appreciation of the deep friendship that has blossomed between the natives and me.

  An unexpected and exciting turn occurs. One of the entrancing native sirens will serve as my co-pilot. Her charge is to care for me and ease my burdens along the unknown paths we shall travel. I try to explain that the journey may be long and dangerous but she will not be put off. I relent, and in truth I welcome the company.

  We enter our sleek craft and settle into the control room. My stoic co-pilot clears for take off. She is well versed in spacecraft operation, our take off is smooth and quick. We depart the atmosphere and once again the perfect emptiness of space envelopes us.

  No, empty isn't the right word. It is nothing. We are swallowed by nothing. It is nothing that goes on forever and ever. A crush of emotions threaten to break across my brow but my stalwart companion is there to reassure me. It takes a special type to navigate the vast stretches of nothingness before us. Thankfully, the two of us are just that type.

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  Chapter 5

  The Siren

  Siln sat in the sterile office of the Human Management complex awaiting her sentence. She knew it would be a nice long stay in a Productivity Improvement colony. She was painfully aware of what the sentence would mean. She would be learning how to improve her productivity by working her ass off for hundreds of cycles. She slumped sideways in the severe chair, legs dangling over the spindly arm. She was not comfortable but she did not care. She didn't care about anything except getting off the planet. Bad luck had landed her there in the first place. It was getting harder and harder to make her way as youth fled and beauty faded. She was short, a little dumpy, edging toward middle age. Her short hair fell down her face in tattered spikes. The shapeless gray jumpsuit she wore hid a tight suit made of black stretch material. The suit vividly accented every aspect of her figure. A few small holes here and there hinted at the age of the suit. Her short blond hair might be turning gray, she didn't want to think about it. She couldn't understand how she could be as pudgy as she was considering how little she ate. Her dark, deep-set eyes darted about giving the impression of threatened awareness. Her mottled skin and round face accented her somewhat misshapen nose. Once slender and becoming, her appearance now betrayed the abuses of her long exile. Her demeanor was the product of her life on the fringe of society. Her life these past ten years had been a mad scramble from planet to planet. The omnipresent Forces seemed always just around the corner, just about to pounce. She lived in a perpetual state of anxiety and fear. She was not just an outcast. She was less than a person. She was one of the multitudes of people who were condemned to non-existence. The untold legions who were illegitimate, who had no credentials. It was illegal for her to exist.

  She had seen the worst the galaxy had to offer. Only the foulest, most vile destinations were available to those such as her.

  The planets outside the Alpha One space were not infested with Forces, yet they were the most dangerous of places. Places with no designation, just a name. A meaningless name for a meaningless life. Alpha None, Dead Stop, Demon's Dream. Names meant to warn would-be invaders but which too often described them perfectly. She had taken the grand tour. She had seen things no one should have to see. Things to horrible to recall, but she could not keep them out of her dreams.

  She escaped Dead Stop in the cargo hold of an arms smuggler's battered ship. She had fled when her pyramid scheme collapsed. It had been a good game. She sold partnerships of a phony water mine to the gullible bar patrons she served. She told them they could increase their profits by selling shares to others. She, of course, got a cut from the sales. When the pyramid had expanded to its maximum potential, and there was no revenue for the buyers, it was time to go. She had gotten away in time but a double-crossing Captain left Siln stranded. She had taken Siln's money and then left without her.

  Siln stowed away in the first ship she could find. The arms smuggler was in a hurry. He probably had some game going also. He had left the cargo bay door open while he rushed to load his cargo. S
he had slipped in unnoticed. The bay door didn't look as though it would seal tight. Every part of the ship had taken a blast, hit a rock, or fallen apart. Siln's fears increased as soon as they exited the atmosphere. An audible hiss came from the bay door. The oxygen soon ran low. The pressure in the bay fell so low that two gas canisters exploded. The leak in the door was large enough to purge the toxic gas from the bay before it killed Siln. She blacked out after three hours. She was sure she would never wake up as head swam and the air ran out. Luckily, the smuggler became concerned when the oxygen generator started falling behind. He donned a pressure suit to fix the leak and found Siln on the bay floor.

  Siln had been unable to meet the price for her release. The Captain sold her to a slaver on False Hope. The next year had been tortuous. The slaver misused her badly. She did things she could never push completely out of her thoughts. She was eventually sold to a wealthy farmer who had bought her outright. He treated her well. She spent a lot of her time in the main house away from the shabby slave quarters out back. She felt a measure of affection for the man. He was a good man despite his slavery practices. In the end, she had to fly. She had to run because that was her nature. She stole enough money to buy her way off the planet. She ran with no regrets, never looking back. She could not look back; there were too many horrors in the past.

  Ponal, the last God-forsaken rock she had fled in a panic, was bad. Very bad. There were few opportunities for a person of her skills. They did not have anything like hard currency. Everything was rationed. The only thing anybody cared about was improving his or her output in order to get more food. She had to get an actual job. There was nothing worse in the galaxy than working a job on Ponal.