It wasn't a question as much as it was an accusation.
The woman appeared unsettled, her manner fuelling his suspicions.
“Of course, Sir, mentalist Jonen wasn't it?”
“I'm impressed. With all the people you must get in here, I am surprised you remembered me specifically.”
“It's not often I get such a request,” her fingers rumbled over the keys of the console before her. Her eyes were no longer meeting his.
“I'm sure that must be it. So, have I cleared authorisation?”
“I'm afraid not,” she responded, neglecting to look up at him. “Your application was turned down.”
Slowly, she moved the screen on its pivot, so he could view the results for himself. Jonen saw a very generic application form with no specific query attached to it. It could have been for anything. Still the red letters at the end of the scroll, left no doubt as to its status.
DENIED
He wasn't surprised, but his suspicions about Officer Trayla were leading him down a very dark path. Mira had been killed the day after he requested this information. Was it a coincidence or was something actually going on?
“I'm sorry, but sometimes that's the way bureaucracy works. I don't make the rules,” she explained, but Jonen could see that this attempt to sound concerned, even apologetic, was false. For some reason, she felt the need to change her manner towards him. Did she fear his suspicion? If so, why?
“I'll just have to pursue the matter from another avenue. I have associates in the government who will assist me in any further enquires. Thank you for your time.”
He did not know why he added those last words. If the truth be known, he knew no one in the government. Most of his associates were academicians like himself. Politics and the healing sciences were kept in two distinctive realms and, until now, he'd never found the need to cross over. Besides, she must hear boasts like that all the time.
“I wish you every success.”
And, once again, he knew she was lying.
* * *
Even though he still believed it was his imagination getting the best of him, Jonen was determined to pursue the matter. Why was it so difficult to get such harmless information? Disappointed at his lack of success, Jonen decided to return to his office and began walking back towards the Rura District.
The Kleist district did not have much in the way of residential space, since most of its land was occupied by government buildings. The people he saw on the way out were mainly civil servants from one branch of the government or another. These people did not look as if they had anything to hide, unlike Officer Trayla.
Jonen had meant it when he told Trayla he was going to find another way. The more he thought about it, the more he was at a loss to understand why the information was unavailable. Surely there could be nothing wrong with contacting the older New Citizens who lived on Brysdyn? When the children were brought to Brysdyn, there was a conscious effort not to expunge their heritage in place of a new one. The hope was to create an amalgamation of two cultures who found salvation by aiding each other.
Garryn could help me.
Of course! Why didn't he think of it before? The Prime was the second highest voice in the Empire. No one would dare deny him authorisation. Suddenly, Jonen found a great weight taken off his shoulders, because he had a way to proceed after all. It was the ideal solution, since Garryn needed to have this mystery answered more than he.
Jonen stepped off the kerb onto the road. The sidewalk on the other side of the street ran parallel to a park and would take him all the way back to the Rura district. It was well into the afternoon and the green was busy with people eating their lunches under the warmth of the sun. As he took in the sight of the manicured lawn, the water birds swimming on the shimmering waters of the pond, Jonen decided lunch surrounded by such beauty was not a bad idea.
“WATCH OUT!”
Jonen looked up just in time to see a skimmer rushing towards him at top speed. With no time to think, he jumped out of its path, hoping he'd cleared the distance needed. A jolt of panic gripped him as the vehicle swept past, so close he could feel the rush of air against his back. He landed hard against the paved sidewalk, his shoulder flaring in pain at the same time a loud crash roared in the background. For a moment, he remained on the ground, bruised and shocked by the whole incident.
“Are you all right?” The same voice who had shouted the warning earlier was asking him.
Jonen nodded, dazed, before registering the young woman staring at him with concern. “I'm fine. I'm just a little shaken.”
“You were lucky,” she helped him to his feet with one hand, while the other dusted him off. “You could have been killed.”
“I could have,” Jonen nodded numbly.
“The driver of that skimmer was not so lucky.”
Jonen followed her gaze to see the two vehicles had collided with each other and were now at rest haphazardly across the road. A small crowd was gathering at the scene, gaping at the wreckage of metal and plasteel in morbid curiosity. At the sight of liquid fuel pooling beneath the vehicle, they retreated to a safe distance. One of the drivers, an older man, stumbled out of the lesser of the damaged skimmers, appearing unhurt but still disoriented.
Jonen pushed his way into the crowd, still clutching his shoulder, to see if he could provide any assistance.
“I'm a healer!” he announced and the crowd let him pass. While he was not a practicing physician, he still retained enough of his medical training to be capable of offering assistance. Besides, he could hear the sirens of approaching CP vehicles.
Approaching the skimmer that had almost run him down, he winced at the sight of the vehicle's condition. The front end was demolished on impact. The smooth metal surface was torn apart and forced into an impossible tangle of iron and smouldering plasteel. Incredibly, one of the bystanders managed to crack open the hatch. Jonen arrived just in time to hear the metal creaking open.
The hatch to the cabin slid open halfway before the bloody mess of a human form slumped out through the opening. Cries of horror and shock escaped everyone, as blood splattered across the ground, intermingling with the rising pool of plasma fuel. Swallowing away the lump in his throat, Jonen came forward to determine if the female driver was still alive.
She was not.
Her gold hair was matted and tangled with blood. Her head must have smashed against the plexiglass screen on impact. Her skull was a bloody mess of pulp and bone. With the help of the man who had gotten the door open, they pulled her out of the vehicle and lay her down on the ground. When the Central Police arrived, they would take charge of her. For now, Jonen did what he could.
Brushing the hair gently out of her face, Jonen stopped short when he found himself staring into the lifeless face of Officer Trayla.
IX
Distraction
Taking advantage of the confusion following the accident, Jonen saw the chance to slip away and took it. Until he could think things through, he had no wish to bring himself to the attention of the authorities. By now, he was convinced Officer Trayla had tried to kill him. Two traffic accidents in the space of a month was too much of a coincidence for Jonen to accept. Was Officer Trayla responsible for Mira's death? Had they killed her to distract him and, upon failing to deter him, made an attempt on his life? What had he stumbled onto that was worth killing for?
The imperative to get the information he wanted became even more vital when Garryn arrived for his session that afternoon, and Jonen had no choice but to tell his story.
Frankly, I'm amazed you didn't come out of it worse," Garryn looked up at Jonen from the leather sofa.
“So am I,” Jonen confessed from behind his desk.
“This is all because you want to know about older New Citizens?”
It seemed so far-fetched, but Jonen was right. Two accidents in a month defied credibility, especially when they immediately followed a request for information about New Citizens.
“It seems hard
to believe, but I can't see what else it could be.”
If was hard to argue with the man. The denial of the request should have been the end of the matter, unless asking for it was a danger in itself.
The more Garryn analysed the situation, the more he disliked the conclusion he was reaching. Murderous conspiracies were myths created by the Security Elite for as long as he could remember. Edwen and his kind were always concocting some nonsense about subversive organisations within Brysdynian society. It was always Garryn's belief Edwen made half of this up to validate Security Elite's relevance.
Unfortunately, Jonen's story seemed to indicate such a conspiracy might actually exist.
“In fact, the application I saw on the screen was very generic. I'm wondering if it was just a decoy to show an application did exist, to be submitted and denied. I'm wondering if it was ever submitted for authorisation at all. Trayla became very agitated when I told her I'd pursue the matter through other channels.”
Garryn decided to approach the fact methodically and laid out the sequence of events.
“You request the information and, for whatever reason, it's deemed too sensitive for access to be permitted. You apply for authorisation, showing your determination on the matter. To put you off the track, they murder Mira. Let's assume they knew how it would affect you. For a month, they get their wish. You're in mourning and they may even believe you've forgotten about it. Of course you don't, and you go back there today, and Officer Trayla reveals your request was denied. You say you can go through other channels to get the information. She then panics and decides to kill you herself.”
“When you put it like that, it sounds chilling,” Jonen confessed and he thought about Mira, how her life may have been discarded to hide a secret.
“This is all speculation. We need to find out as much as we can about Officer Trayla. I doubt a civil servant has reason enough to murder for what is really public access information. There should be at least three hundred thousand older New Citizens in the Empire. At least, that's what the history books say. What about them is so damaging? Assuming Trayla is even her name.”
“You're right,” Jonen exclaimed, seizing on that point. “Everything about her was nondescript. It felt like she took great pains to blend in.”
“Exactly. For all we know, she might have been posted there simply to guard the information. To report to her superiors if someone came looking for it.”
Garryn rose from his chair and went to the window. He stared outside the window, thinking about what was to be done. After a moment, he faced Jonen again.
“I will find out about the New Citizens and look into Officer Trayla's background. In the meantime, I will have some protection assigned to you.”
“I don't think protection will be necessary,” Jonen began to protest, but Garryn cut him off before he could say anything further.
“Jon, I think it's very necessary. Someone murdered your Mira and has tried to kill you. Maybe on both counts it was Trayla. Maybe it's just a coincidence and has nothing to do with the New Citizens at all but, right now, I prefer to err on the side of caution.”
Jonen could not argue with the Prime. His life revolved around his work and his memories of military service were two decades behind him. Even then, he was fulfilling the Empire's mandatory conscription policy and not because he had any desire to be a soldier. This situation was beyond his ability to cope with, and he submitted to Garryn's counsel on how to proceed.
Now that this matter was resolved for the moment, Jonen had more to tell Garryn that did not involve Officer Trayla or the status of older New Citizens. It was time to tell him about the other Dreamers.
“Garryn, there is more. Please, sit down.”
His tone made Garryn turn around immediately and he regarded the mentalist for a moment before returning to the leather seat.
“Part of the reason I was seeking out the information about the New Citizens is because you aren't the only one who is suffering from nightmares.”
Garryn blinked. “What do you mean?”
“In the past six months, there have been numerous cases reported throughout Brysdyn. My colleagues in Tessalone and Rainab tell me the same story you know already. Their patients have violent nightmares about an alien place they have never been. Some have nightmares every night. Others are more sporadic, but debilitating enough to warrant attention. At first, we thought it was a previously undiagnosed brain disorder, but there's no evidence of it.”
That revelation struck Garryn with the force of an exploding star. All this time, he'd thought he was going crazy, that the stress of war and the impending Ceremony of Ascendancy had driven him mad, but it wasn't just him.
“Tell me more,” he managed to say.
“Individually, we were at a loss, until we consulted with each other and realised we had an epidemic on our hands. Once we pooled our resources and compared patient history, we learned a great deal more. We saw patterns beginning to form. All the patients are New Citizens exactly the same age, with a variance of no more than a year. Like you, they have no memory before their arrival on Brysdyn.”
Garryn did not speak, letting himself absorb the weight of Jonen's words. It seemed incredible and yet sinister somehow. While he should have been relieved to hear the news of others like him, Garryn also felt a chill run down his spine. It was as if the crypt to something unspeakable had been unsealed. “And you believe that we are all having the same dreams?”
“Yes. While the dreams themselves differ from individual to individual, there are elements in all of them that are too identical to be just coincidence. For instance, all of you seem to be dreaming of a place with a blue sky.”
Garryn stood up abruptly. It was just too much to take in all at once. He had always assumed that his dreams were memories of Cathomira, but it was well documented that Cathomira did not have a blue sky. The implications of what Jonen was telling him were taking on a frightening edge.
“I thought it was just me. I thought the pressure of becoming Prime was driving me mad.”
“No Garryn. You're not going mad.” He stepped away from his desk and joined the man on the sofa, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I have a theory that may be disturbing for you to hear.”
“It can't be any worse than what's happening to me,” Garryn replied.
Jonen nodded and continued speaking.
“Something happened to all of you when you came here from Cathomira, something none of you seem to remember and that is omitted from all the records. The reason I was trying to contact the older New Citizens was to see if they remembered. It's no coincidence all Dreamers were very young when this happened. Your memories may have been suppressed. These dreams are those memories trying to surface.”
“We have to find out what that is. I'll take this to Security Elite. If there is a conspiracy afoot, Edwen will know what to do. I may not like the man, but he is the best there at finding out secrets.”
* * *
Garryn didn't waste any time. He headed straight for the Enclave after leaving Jonen's office.
Even as the skimmer weaved through the streets of Rura, Garryn was still reeling from the news he was one of many suffering these terrible dreams. Epidemic was a word no Brysdynian took lightly and even one such as this struck cold fear into his heart.
Were there that many cases of the Dreaming? Garryn's stomach hollowed at the thought there were others out there suffering from nightmares generated by a secret past. Why didn't it affect every one of them? Elisha was younger than him, so why didn't she dream? Were his friends at the Academy and the soldiers he served with also gripped in their private hell, too afraid to speak?
Garry thought about those repressed memories fighting their way to the surface. What did he remember of those days? Who cared for him after that terrible war on Cathomira, after the adults had died? He'd been no more than three years old when he was brought to Brysdyn. His earliest memories were of Aisha, his mother.
&n
bsp; She had called him her little Prince.
Before her there was nothing. Each time he tried to remember being on Cathomira, he was confronted with a wall so thick and impregnable that nothing penetrated. For the first time in his life, Garryn wanted to know who he had been before he became Garryn, the next Prime of Brysdyn.
* * *
The trip to the Enclave was faster than he thought and Garryn looked around in interest as he directed his skimmer along the roundabout before the main entrance. In the centre of it was a bronze sculpture of the Security Elite emblem embedded into the grass. The Enclave was hidden within a fence of high walls, laser security systems and formidable-looking guards patrolling the grounds.
The Enclave building was a place of high, imposing, grey stone walls and polished marble columns. Grim figures were carved into its masonry, figures whose presence gave the place a feeling of finality. Edwen wanted the centre of Security Elite to command authority and to strike its visitors with awe. To that effect, Garryn could attest to its success.
It was the first time in his life Garryn had visited the Enclave and he did not want to feel intimidated by the fearsome appearance of the place. While Garryn felt the Security Elite was an outdated institution, he could not deny its presence in history. When the Scourge was rife, it was Edwen's rigid discipline of his troops that kept them from dissolving to anarchy. Even though their numbers were small, the group maintained order during the worst years of the Scourge.
As Garryn entered the Enclave to find Edwen, he was inundated with salutes and greetings by officers who were delighted by this unexpected visit. He supposed he ought to be used to this reaction by now. Most Brysdynians never got the chance to see the future Prime in person and would have even less opportunity when the title became official. He tried to be gracious even though it made him very uncomfortable.
Fortunately, the commotion of his arrival also saw to it he received speedy assistance in reaching the General. Not long after he reached the front desk to request a meeting, Garryn was approached by Major Danten, who helpfully expedited matters and escorted him to Central Command.
Children of the White Star Page 8