“Being right out of school,” she said when he paused, “I was the lowliest of assistants on this mission, but the others resented me, as I said, for being Fr’taray’s daughter. I tried so hard, but my efforts, other than flying, were deemed incorrect or fell short. I even suspected one or more of the staff sneaking behind me and undoing what I did, you know? Because my efforts habitually came out so wrong. I had my suspicions, not that it matters now. Tedesk especially said I was hopeless and should be sent home with the supply ship.” Bithia laughed. “And of us all, I’m the only one who stayed. Overstayed!”
“How—”
“I was careless where I sat one night after the evening meal. I was bitten by a tolokon, which is a fanged slitherer of this wretched world. Deathly poisonous to my people, although not to the locals. Residents of Talonque suffer only mild discomfort for a day. Beware of it—a nasty red and blue thing with a forked tail. At times, before the healing device corrects the dreamspace parameters, I have nightmares of being trapped in here with tolokon crawling all over my body.” She shivered and went on with a wry laugh. “I’ve been told that through a strange misunderstanding these people now hold the tolokon sacred to me, a favorite totem of mine. If they only understood the truth.”
Nate laughed outright, pausing to explain what was so funny when she frowned. “Our teammate Atletl owes his life to that misunderstanding. The priestesses only spared him the day we came to the city because he has a tolokon tattoo and was with us.”
“As long as good came of the idea that I love the tolokon, then I’m happy. Don’t ask me to admire the tattoo. I never want to see another tolokon—real or painted. But I digress. As I was explaining, one of the cursed things bit me, and the venom destroyed the tissues of my leg to the bone. The damage spread through my nerves and blood vessels into my core, so my father set me within this device of ours to be healed. A wise expedition leader brings healing modules, to be prepared for any eventuality.”
“We have a similar device—well, the military does. Not generally available to the civilian population, because the elements needed to make it work are so rare. It’s called a rejuve resonator. It can do pretty astonishing things, but it doesn’t begin to compare to this setup.” Nate gave the supporting apparatus an appreciative look.
“My father said that for a long time I was close to death, in a coma for several passages of the moons. Something happened with the mission during the last few days of my seclusion, but I don’t know the details. I’d barely emerged from the coma and was too weak to be released from the healer unit when my father came with Tedesk to tell me he was going to our base camp to communicate with home on urgent matters. I begged them to take me—I couldn’t bear to be left.” She blushed and lowered her gaze. “I made a hideous scene. Father said no, it was too soon and I wouldn’t survive without the continued emanations of the healer. The flesh of my leg was regenerating, growing new nerves and vessels. The process couldn’t be interrupted. He left his number one local trainee in charge of me, a man named Hialar. Father expected to come back within a three-day span.” She laughed again, bitterly. “Three million days and more, no doubt, have passed. It’s certain we knew nothing of a people such as yours, and you’ve no knowledge of us, so what does that indicate?”
“The galaxy is a big place. It could mean we simply never crossed paths before.”
She refused to be comforted. “You named me ancient the moment we first saw each other, before you’d been given any details. Don’t try to deny it. You’ve seen installations like this, haven’t you? Elsewhere in your area of the galaxy? Old and abandoned, as I am.”
He nodded, hating to agree but unwilling to tell her less than the truth. “Yes. We’ve found installations estimated at over a million of our standard planetary years old and still working, just as this place does, keeping you alive. But never another survivor. Your technology doesn’t match what we call the Ancient Observers. Your people are something else, unknown to me. Judging by the way the city and the palace have grown to enclose this place, my best guess is you’ve been here thousands of years. Haranda, my pilot, says if the weather and the geology were stable, a primitive society could remain fairly static for such an extended time frame. A highly motivated priesthood and a visible deity such as yourself could keep certain knowledge passing through succeeding generations, even if the truth at the bottom of the legends was lost.” He’d discussed the issues with Haranda many an evening, striving to understand the mysteries surrounding Bithia’s presence. “So this Hialar watched over you?”
“I suppose so.” Her voice was flat. “The device put me into the healing deep sleep as Father and Tedesk walked out. When I next awakened, there was a stranger tending me. She said she was five times great-granddaughter to Hialar and serving as my chief priestess. I could barely understand the words she spoke, but I realized then how long it must have been already. She either would not or could not release me from the thrall of the healer. She wanted advice—what to do about an erupting volcano. As if I would know anything useful!”
Nate had the mental impression of her shaking her head in disbelief, although in reality she didn’t move so much as an inch, the healing device maintaining its iron control over her body, even in dreamspace.
“I made up a plausible lie,” she went on, “added practical suggestions for evacuation, and she forced me to the sleep again, which describes the routine going forward, and I had no way to tell how much time was passing, other than by the generations of the Hialar family. A complete stranger would waken me for questions, demands, omens. And each time the language grew more corrupted, harder to grasp.”
“You never tried to win freedom again?”
“No one would listen. After the first few generations, the Hialar were terrified of me and understood all too well that their power as priests and rulers was tied to me lying here.” She frowned. “Except once, a long time ago. There was a man—I could reach him mind to mind, as with you and I, but not nearly as well.”
“What happened to him?” He realized with a keen sense of the absurd how ridiculous it was to be jealous of a long-dead priest.
“I don’t know. I only met him three times. He was intrigued with me, excited by the idea of freeing a goddess to walk among mortals as his queen. I encouraged his enthusiasm. By then I was willing to pay any price to escape my prison. I’d rather live under primitive conditions with the people if I could be free of this chamber. Breathe fresh air on my own, walk, eat…” Her voice trailed off.
“Hey, I’m not here to judge you.” He wished he could touch her hand, offer a gesture no matter how small to soothe her unhappiness.
“After the third time we talked, I never saw him again, and the next priestess claimed to know nothing of his fate, nor how much time had elapsed since he and I met.” Tilting her head, she smiled at Nate. “We didn’t dream together. You’re the only person I’ve ever been able to communicate with in the dreamspace. I didn’t even know it was possible until you came. And now I can’t imagine not having your companionship this way.”
Nate realized she’d picked up on his mild jealousy and was trying to give him reassurance.
Bithia continued with her story, going back to the issue of the constant changing of her attendants over time. “Eventually came the day I was summoned to waken by Sarbordon’s great-great-grandfather, a captured Hialar priest in chains by his side. These new conquerors appear to me to be a cruel, sadistic people. Certainly, this present-day king enjoys making me suffer when he calls upon me.”
Nate remembered how callously the ruler had manipulated the ancient controls, recklessly enough to spur the device to sound warnings. “We’ve seen pretty bad things done by the priestesses of Huitlani and him since we were taken prisoner,” he agreed in a massive understatement, trying in particular to suppress the memory of the ceremony at the well in the square so she wouldn’t acquire the disturbing images.
“This king wakens me more and more. He doesn’t care
that it hurts, or how I’m weakening. On occasion, the machine flickers and pauses, and I—I can’t breathe. Now when I lie in the healing sleep, it fails to quiet my mind. I’m afraid.” Tears leaked from her eyes, glittering in the jeweled lights of the chamber.
More helpless than he’d ever been in his entire life and caught on the other side of the invisible barrier, Nate was infuriated at his inability to offer more than words of comfort to the despairing Bithia. He slammed his fist into the faint green barrier out of sheer frustration, forgetting he shared a dream…
…and awoke in his prison bed, chained by the ankle. Thom, Haranda and Atletl were staring at him from their cots.
“Must have been one hell of a bad dream, man,” Thom said. “You were yelling.”
“Sorry. Must have been the damn stewed vegetables from dinner—they do a number on my system. Go back to sleep.” Nate rolled away from their troubled regard and settled on the hard mattress to wait for dawn. There’d be no more dreams for him tonight, and there was a lot to think about.
CHAPTER FOUR
Eyes closed, Bithia sat with her arms around her knees, back to the wall, crunched in the tiny space she’d carved out away from the machine’s control. She realized she was humming and that her spirits were curiously light.
“Foolish girl,” she said under her breath. “You don’t even know if he still lives. Hundreds of years may have passed since you dreamed with him.” Shaking her hair loose, down on her shoulders, she ran her hand through the soft curls, plaiting tiny braids. This generation’s king had been summoning her with increasing frequency as he became more worried about the invading Githholz. She laughed with little humor. I hope my advice has brought his armies to grief. Why these people persist in believing I know anything about military strategy is beyond me. I’m a pilot, an explorer, a specialist in technology they’ll never even dream of. Mood darkening, she reminded herself the technology she knew was probably dead and gone, no matter what great accomplishments her people had achieved in the stars. Nate knew nothing of us. Not even our name.
As if thinking of him had summoned the man, she sensed his approach through the mists hiding her consciousness from the ever-watchful machine.
“Bithia?”
Her nerves sparked pleasurably, pulse beating faster at the sound of his voice, deep and resonant. “Here.”
In the next moment, he walked into view, the mists swirling away from him as he reached the barrier. “How is it with you?”
“Much like any other moment of my existence,” she said, refusing to admit how his arrival gladdened her heart. “And you?”
He ran his hand over the barrier, studying the green light outlining his fingertips. “More sapiche practice.” He made a face. “Endless drills.”
Laughing at his expression, she straightened. “You don’t enjoy the freedom of the outdoors? I’d trade places, even for an hour. I’d gladly kick balls and run in circles, even in their miserably hot sun.”
Nate said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rub it in that you’re stuck here.”
She waved one hand. “No apologies needed. And your men are well? Your friend Thom and the others?”
“Yeah, my men are fine.” He seemed to be assessing her, his gaze on her face as if cataloging the shadows under her eyes. “Has Sarbordon been bothering you?”
“Thankfully, not today. The machine stutters, and I’ve won a few moments to dream of whatever I choose.” No need to worry him with the other effects the machine’s malfunctions have on me. She wanted to be happy, to enjoy this encounter, not talk about failing tech neither of them could fix.
“And you picked me to dream about?” His voice was teasing, but his brown eyes were intense, focused on her. “I’m flattered.”
Her breath caught. “You—you’re the most novel thing in my environment currently.”
“Novel?” He raised his eyebrows at her choice of words. “Not handsome, irresistible, clever, witty—aren’t you the least bit worried my feelings might get hurt?”
Bithia laughed along with him. “All of the above? And welcome company.”
“I thought I heard music,” he said, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the barrier. “From you?”
Her cheeks grew warm, and she realized with surprise she was blushing. “I was humming one of my favorite songs.”
“It was pretty.” He whistled, trying to replicate the tune and failing miserably.
Giggling, she held her hands over her ears. “Stop or it won’t be my favorite much longer. Here, listen.” She licked her lips and sang a few bars softly, keeping time by tapping her fingers on the cushion where she sat.
He clapped lightly. “Beautiful, like you.”
She blinked, and he detected a blush spreading over her cheeks. “Flatterer.”
“If the truth is flattery, then so be it. I’ll never lie to you.”
There was silence between them for a few moments.
“What’s the song about?” he asked. “I didn’t understand the words.”
“A man and a woman meeting for the first time in a lush garden, each knowing the other might be the answer their heart searches for.” She leaned her head against the wall, which of course existed only in her dream, and sang the song again, making herself translate the lyrics for him as she did so.
“It might be about us,” he said.
Startled, she glanced at him.
“We don’t have a garden, of course, since neither of us seems able to conjure one up. You keep us meeting here in this barren room, and I managed an ice planet.” Nate laughed. “At least I brought you a coat on that occasion.”
“And I was grateful, even if it was one a former girlfriend of yours owned.” Tilting her head, one eyebrow raised, she gave him an impish look.
“I tried to suppress the fact. She wasn’t my girlfriend, just a woman I dated while I was on the planet. We had fun, no deep connection. I barely remember her, but I always loved that coat.” He spread his hand on the barrier. “My attraction to her didn’t come close to what I feel about you. All I want is to be able to touch you—”
Bithia drew away. “Don’t. Please don’t say these things to me.”
“Why not? I mean them. I’ve never felt this attracted to any other woman, not once in my life. And I can’t get closer than ten feet to you, even in my fucking dreams.”
She closed her eyes.
“Tell me you don’t have the same desire.” His challenge was direct. “But remember that when we link like this, in your dream or mine, we both see into the soul of the other. I know you in a way I’ve never known any other person.”
“When I go to sleep,” she said, tears close to falling, “there’s no assurance that I’ll wake up again. And then if I do regain consciousness, I never know how much time has passed. I’ve already lost all the people I loved—my father, my friends—I can’t bear to lose you too. I can’t let myself care too much.”
“Denial won’t change the truth.”
She shook her head, refusing to comment.
“I’m not trying to distress you. Have faith in me. I’m not planning to die on this fucking planet, and I refuse to let you die here either. Maybe I can’t restore you to your own people or replace what you’ve lost, but I give you my word that you won’t lose me.”
“You can’t guarantee such things.” Now she did stare at him. “I wish you could.”
“Either I’m waking, or you’re going to sleep,” he said. “I’m having a hard time remaining in the dreamspace. Promise me you won’t give up. I want your word you’ll try to hang on to hope.”
She uncoiled and threw herself at the barrier, raising her hand to meet his, although the green light flared and she knew it was impossible to touch him or be touched. “I believe in you, Nate. Stay safe.”
For the next week, Nate’s main motivation to get through the day was to make it to the night, when he could hope to meet Bithia in the dreamspace. But night after night went by with no contact bet
ween them. His sleep was restless, disturbed by nightmares filled with blood and death. Each morning he awoke exhausted, disoriented and frustrated.
On the morning of the eighth day, Thom lectured him as the bouncing cart carried them to the practice facility. “Listen, you need to cool it with these dreams. Are you aware you’re barely present during the waking hours? I think she’s more real to you than the trouble we’re in. You’re not learning anything strategic, from what you’ve said, and we’ve got to concentrate on the here and now.”
“I didn’t realize I was allowing her to distract me so badly.”
“I know, and your attitude scares me. I’ve never seen you so detached, so uninterested in what’s going on. This is our only shot at any kind of a chance of surviving, and you’re going to blow it for all of us.” Thom leaned closer, as far as the chains allowed, and lowered his voice further. “Do whatever it takes to get through the damn nights, dream about your phantom lady, make love to her, for all I care, but shake it off while we’re out there on the ball court during the days, you hear me?”
“Right.” Nate shook his head, upset with himself as he realized his old friend was making an accurate statement. He walked through the days waiting and hoping to get to the hidden room in his dreams to see Bithia, to talk to her, to be with her.
“I didn’t want to say anything, but I think it’s gotten to the point where you’re jeopardizing the mission, all of us, with your obsession.” Thom’s words were apologetic, but his tone of voice was definitely not. He was genuinely concerned. “She’s like a drug to you.”
“You’re absolutely correct. Thanks.” Nate nodded in acknowledgment of the rebuke. Get a grip. Thom’s right. I’m not learning anything helpful from her, much as I enjoy our conversations. She’s a dangerous distraction.
Trapped On Talonque: (A Sectors SF romance) Page 7