The Light From Other Suns (The Others Book 1)

by V. E. Lemp

  “No, no,” I said, stopping in my tracks. “Not this place, not now.”

  Someone was standing before me on the path—a tall, slender figure with golden hair.

  “Why?” I asked. “Why have you brought me here?”

  He simply turned and walked away. I broke into a sprint again but lost sight of him as the path curved off into the trees.

  As I rounded the corner I slowed my pace to a walk. I stood in the clearing once more. Nothing had changed. Water spilled over the rocks like a ribbon of liquid mercury, and the light still spangled the pine needles that carpeted the ground. I knew every leaf, every stone of that place, although I hadn’t been there in over ten years.

  “Alex, where are you?”

  I heard him call my name and turned from the view of the falls. He stood outside the perimeter of the circle, hidden among the trees.

  “Why this place?” I willed my feet to walk me closer but couldn’t step beyond the boundary of the clearing.

  “So you will remember,” he said.

  “I’ve never forgotten. I never will.”

  “Won’t you? I think the memories are fading now, like these leaves will fade when summer drifts away.”

  “That’s impossible. I’ve captured all this, for eternity, in your watercolor. If it lives nowhere else, it lives there.”

  “And your love, Karen, where does that live?” Alex moved deeper into the trees. I could no longer see his face.

  “In my heart.”

  “A crowded place these days.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I faced him, my legs planted firmly on the ground. He was invisible, hidden in the shadows, but I knew he could see me.

  “Just that you’ve opened your heart to many others.”

  “Not a fault.”

  “No, but it worries me. I don’t want to be lost to you, Karen. Pushed out by your love for others. For someone else.”

  “Oh, Alex, you shouldn’t worry. There’s room in my heart. Plenty of room for you. And others. There’s finally room for more.”

  “Can one heart hold so much?” His voice reverberated inside my head.

  “Hearts aren’t finite, my dear. Hearts are like the universe. Always expanding.” I held out my hands. “It’s taken me a long time to learn that. A long time and some special instruction. I thought you’d understand. You, who know so much. Don’t you know this, Alex?”

  I waited for some time, listening for his answer, but heard nothing except the steady rush of the falls.

  I woke to the sound of the rain.

  FOURTEEN

  On an early September day Karen arrived at the Indigo Building to talk again with David Cole. She’d called him the day before to arrange a time and had been surprised at the alacrity with which he set up a meeting. Karen paused at the base of the steps and glanced at the surrounding landscape, observing the perfect clarity of the sky and the clear green of the leaves. So fresh, so bright, before their eventual fade and fall. A surge of desire to hold a paintbrush in her fingers assailed her. She’d ignored her art for far too long. She needed to make time to return to the studio.

  The thought of painting provided an adrenaline rush that quickened her pace as she climbed the stairs. How could any creatures exist without painting or drawing? Or music or dance or theatre? Or any other art? The impossibility of this made her stomach clench, as she realized the otherness of those beings. Yet they were interested in such things, to the point of studying humanity primarily for that reason. So there was a point of connection … Karen shook her head and shoved open the front doors of the Indigo Building.

  When Karen checked in at the main desk she was informed Mr. Cole was waiting for her in his office. As she took the elevator to the third floor Karen rehearsed a few speeches in her head. She hadn’t settled on the best tactic to induce David Cole to tell her all he knew about the Morpheus Project, but today she must convince him. She’d beg if she had to. There was too much at stake to stand upon her pride.

  David Cole was waiting at the door to his office. “Karen,” he said, with what sounded like pleasure. “At last.”

  “Sorry it’s taken so long to get together again,” Karen said as she entered the office, “but I’ve been rather distracted.”

  “With your friend, Mr. Hallam? How is he, by the way?” David walked behind his desk and sat down, his gaze never leaving her face.

  “Don’t you know? I thought Exocorp kept rather close tabs on Mark.”

  “Perhaps.” David spread out his hands. “But I’m not Exocorp.”

  “Aren’t you? At any rate, he’s much better. He was fortunate to survive the accident, though. I don’t suppose you know anything of that?” Karen met David’s intense gaze and held it.

  “No, why should I? Wasn’t it a random drunk or something?”

  “Not exactly. You might want to do a little research and see what turns up.”

  His brown eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you goading me, Karen?”

  “Not at all. I just thought you’d like to know Mark had an encounter with an unusual individual. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, pale. Rather like Isabelle. You told me you do know Isabelle.”

  By the way he stilled all of his movements, Karen could tell she’d touched upon a topic David Cole was not anxious to discuss.

  “I know her.”

  “And the rest of her family? Or whatever they are. Remarkable, the resemblance.”

  David clenched his hands together on the desktop. “Karen, I don’t think you know what you’re asking me.”

  “I think I do. I’m asking for the truth. I’m asking you to step up, to step away from Ian Vance and whoever supports him. To reveal what the Morpheus Project was, probably still is. I’m asking, because I sense a goodness in you, a rightness, a real humanity …” David flinched, but Karen took a breath and continued, “A person who seems concerned enough for others to reveal the real story, at last.”

  David stood and leaned over his desk, his head down. He took a deep breath and said, “It’s a very strange tale.”

  “I don’t care how odd it is. Explain it to me.”

  “I’ll try.” David crossed to the tall side table and closed his eyes, as if he had to gather such thoughts in darkness. After a few moments of silence, he sighed deeply. When he spoke again, his voice was ragged, as if this choice to reveal the truth was tearing something from his soul.

  “What I’m about to say sounds impossible, but I assure you it’s true. You’ll recognize the validity of it since you’ve lived through some of the events. The original Morpheus Project, for instance. Truth is, it was a cover for another project, far more unusual. Some might even say sinister, though I don’t subscribe to that belief myself.”

  “I know it wasn’t as advertised.”

  “No, it wasn’t. All of that recording of dreams and training in lucid-dreaming techniques? All a sham. In reality, the project was looking for something, or I should say, someone. Several someones, as a matter of fact.” David opened his eyes and looked directly at Karen. “You were one, as you may have already guessed.”

  Karen gripped the back of one of the office chairs. “Which is why Vance and his team showed such an interest in me?”

  “Yes, and their interest was not misplaced or exaggerated. Never think that. You’re unique, Karen. A fortunate circumstance, as it turns out. It’s why I believe Vance and his associates will never harm you.”

  “I could’ve been very badly hurt the day we met.”

  “Well, the person who arranged that incident no longer works for Exocorp. They overstepped their authority. They didn’t clear the action with Vance, and he was quite displeased when he heard of it.”

  Karen considered the implications of this statement for a moment. So someone other than Ian Vance had tried to harm, or even kill, her. She shivered.

  “They hurt Mark,” she said. “He could’ve been killed.”

  “He’s not so valuable to them. Although they might be persuaded to l
eave him alone if he stops poking his nose into matters that are none of his concern.”

  “You obviously don’t know Mark,” Karen said under her breath.

  “At any rate, the real story is this—Vance has been assisting a group of businessmen. More like a cabal, I suppose. It has nothing to do with the government, except that some in power look the other way. Its members don’t recognize national boundaries or hold allegiance to any country, nor are they loyal to anyone or anything except themselves. They’re only interested in establishing and maintaining contact with a very powerful outside group.”

  “What do you mean by ‘outside group’? Don’t mince words. It’s something not of this world, isn’t it?”

  David smiled, but there was no humor in his eyes. “Yes. I should’ve known better than to use euphemisms around you. You’re correct. We’re talking about alien beings.”

  Although she’d anticipated these words, they still hit like a hammer. Karen grabbed blindly at the back of the chair and pulled it around so she could collapse onto the seat.

  “I know it’s a shock to hear this spoken,” David said gently. “It’s something one never truly believes to be real, no matter how expansive their imagination.”

  “Are you honestly telling me alien beings are somehow contacting us?” She gripped the chair arms to still the violent shaking in her hands. “How? Through our dreams?”

  David gave her a pitying look. “Not our dreams, Karen. Yours. Yours and the dreams of those like you, those who can somehow act as conduits. Not every human being can do that. Most dreams are merely dreams. But Vance discovered there were some people—a few, a very few—whose minds could accept these alien messages and pass them on. Transformed, of course, into images and words that made sense to the human brain. But still understandable, with the right translation. The aliens gave us the key to breaking the code early on. We simply had to find the right conduits. Not as easy as you might think.”

  “We?”

  “I told you, I’ve worked with Vance for some time. Do you know how difficult it’s been to find even a handful of people like you? Few can pick up alien communications at all, much less as well as you do. Then there’s your unique ability to render technological information in sketches. That makes you doubly valuable.”

  “So why did Vance let me go, if I’m so valuable? He let me walk away, you know, after Alex ... after Dr. Wythe died.”

  David turned his back on her. “It was part of a bargain. He traded you for something he desired even more.”

  “I don’t understand. You’re telling me alien beings are invading my dreams? Sending messages and relaying specifications I draw in my sleep? But I don’t remember any direct contact. Why wouldn’t I remember something like that?”

  “Think, Karen, think.” David’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the table. “What are those dreams about, the dreams of the dark-eyed strangers? Don’t they remind you of someone? Of Alice? Of Isabelle? Of the man at Vance’s party? Of the stranger on the street?”

  “What do you know about all that?” Karen tensed her grip until her hands ached.

  “I told you, I’ve been working with Vance for a long time.” When David turned, Karen was shocked at the distress reflected in his eyes. “I’ve heard all about your encounters with these dark-eyed beings. Of course, they’re only part of it. There were also dreams, weren’t there, of strange new realities, or places that felt somehow not like our world, or odd, unknown technologies, or virtual reality?”

  A shiver danced up Karen’s spine. How did he know?

  “Yes, I see I’ve hit a nerve. What did you think those dreams were, Karen? Just your own mind spinning stories?”

  “I didn’t know what they were,” Karen said, her voice shaking. “I certainly didn’t think I was being used as some sort of telephone or telegraph or some other damn thing by alien beings! No one ever asked.” Tears rolled, unheeded, down her face. “No one ever asked me.”

  “I know,” David said. “That was wrong. I see it now. But at the time, the project didn’t seem likely to harm you, or others. We were mistaken, and I’m truly sorry.”

  “The dreams stopped after Alex died.” Karen roughly brushed at the tears with the back of one hand. “I didn’t remember any dreams at all, not for years and years. I only recently started recalling my dreams again. Was that Vance’s doing as well?”

  “No, that had nothing to do with Ian Vance. He’d have used you, as much as he could, for as long as possible. But, as I said, he was persuaded to leave you alone. You had suffered enough. The other beings—the ones Vance and his compatriots call the Oneiroi, although that’s not what they call themselves, that’s not their true name—they agreed to leave you alone as a condition of a different arrangement. Unfortunately, they were required to block the memory of all of your dreams, or you’d have continued to pick up on their messages and thoughts. I’m not sure why you’ve started remembering your dreams again, but I suppose they have their reasons.”

  “And these dark-eyed, dark-haired strangers? Who are they? The aliens themselves?”

  “No. You’d never see the alien beings on this earth, not in their true form. It’s impossible.” David sighed deeply. “They can never physically set foot on this planet. So they decided, a very long time ago, to create ambassadors. Avatars. Creatures to do their will.”

  “But these … avatars … They aren’t human?”

  “Certainly not. They’re created, in some process I can’t understand, from synthetic material derived from the human genetic code. They do live among us. They experience this world as you do. But they are not human. Nor are they fully autonomous.”

  “Something controls them, then?” Karen’s voice fell to a whisper. She didn’t doubt David’s words. They made sense. It all made sense, at last.

  “Yes, the Oneiroi do, through a version of virtual reality. For example, the woman called Alice. She’s actually living somewhere else, somewhere light-years from here. But she controls the creature you met as Alice, and through that creature, she is here—seeing, hearing, sensing, and feeling everything just as if she stood upon this planet.”

  “But they look so similar. Why would they create them so alike? Doesn’t that make it too easy for their secret to be discovered?”

  “You’d think so, but you know how it is—most people dismiss such things as coincidence or fantasy. The Oneiroi are a thrifty race. They see no reason to create several models of these avatars if there’s no need, and I suppose it’s easier to make close copies. Their ambassadors haven’t been discovered by the general population and, as I said, they’ve been here a long time.”

  “Are they responsible for all those UFO reports as well? These, what did you call them, Oneiroi? Alien abductions? Roswell and all that?”

  “Yes, but that’s connected to their probes and other scientific research activities. The supposed aliens in those reports aren’t living beings.”

  “Robots, then? Or androids?” Karen could barely string the words together.

  “Something like that,” David conceded. “Definitely machines.”

  “Well, hell.” Karen’s head was throbbing, but one of his remarks swam into focus. “How long? How long, David? Eighty years? A hundred?”

  David Cole looked at her and shook his head.

  “Longer than that?” Her voice rose to another register.

  “Much, much longer. Centuries. It was easier for them in the past, when more cultures believed in messages received in dreams. Long ago, they could simply find conduits on their own and trust most of their messages would be believed and delivered. Voices from above.”

  Karen’s fingernails dug into her palms. “Are you saying they’re God?”

  “No, they’re not. They’d never claim to be God, or even gods. They’re an ancient race of beings that like to … influence.”

  “Interfere.” A wave of anger washed over her.

  “I suppose,” David said.

 
“So why not just send their messages through these avatars?” Karen asked. “Why do they need people like me?

  “Because the Oneiroi can accomplish basic communication through their avatars, but they can’t describe their technology, not without translation. There are no concepts, no words in our languages to allow for that. They need to pass the ideas through human minds, the kind of human minds capable of transmuting their thoughts into symbols and concepts we can understand. A few humans can do that, just by detailing the memories of their dreams. And then there are those, like you, who provide more specific data through art.”

  Karen considered this for a moment. “So Ian Vance and his research team and his backers, whoever they are … What do they get out of it?”

  “A great deal of money from the new technology they develop and sell. A chance to influence world affairs. A sense of power and the rights to a great secret. Never underestimate the attraction of power and secrets. People have killed for less.”

  Karen rose to her feet, feeling for her balance. “Thank you for telling me, David. Now, one more thing.” She walked toward him, taking carefully measured steps. “Did Alex Wythe know this? Did Alex know this when we worked together, when he and I … were together? Did he know?”

  David Cole met her demanding gaze with a look of quiet desperation. “That I can’t say, Karen. I truly can’t.”

  She glanced away. “Of course you wouldn’t know. Forgive me, David. I’m just overwhelmed.” Another thought spun into focus, and she turned to him with concern. “But what about you? Isn’t it dangerous for you to tell me this? What will happen to you?”

  “Nothing, I hope, if you’ll take this information, use it to ease your mind, and then put it behind you. File it away, Karen, and don’t take your investigations any further. I’ve shared what I know. I don’t think anyone else knows more, except Vance. And he’ll never disclose more than I’ve told you, if he’ll even discuss that much. I’ve said I don’t think Vance or his associates will ever harm you. But I can’t be sure. If you continue to press this matter, if you work with Hallam to disclose these secrets, I can’t be certain you’ll remain safe. And more than anything, I want to protect you, Karen. That I will swear.”