Nightmare se-2

by Steven Harper

  Lizard watched her go, not quite sure what she meant. He wasn’t free. He was pretty expensive, by all accounts. All around him, almost a hundred slaves of varying species sat or squatted in their squares. Only three others had chairs to sit in. Another half dozen platforms, including the one Bell had been confined on, held empty chairs. Lizard wondered if his mother had been placed in a different lot, which was why her silent (Silent?) auction ended before his did. Or maybe there was some other reason she had been taken earlier. He really had no way to know for sure.

  …you’ll be free.

  The phrase echoed around Lizard’s mind, but he didn’t dwell on it. He was a slave, had been for three years and would be for the rest of his life. It didn’t matter what that woman said or did.

  After a while, however, the round woman came back, data pad still clutched in one hand. She was smiling.

  "It’s all arranged." She touched Lizard’s platform. It blinked from red to green and sank to floor level. "Let’s go before they find a way to change their minds, all right?"

  "Are you my new owner?" Lizard asked uncertainly.

  "Yes and no," she said. "I know that’s not a very good answer, but trust me for the moment. I don’t want to talk here. Come on. Walk behind me and keep your eyes down. Quickly!"

  "Yes, Mistress."

  She pursed her lips. Lizard tried not to flinch. "Never that," she said. "You may call me ‘Mother Ara’ or just ‘Mother,’ all right?"

  Mother? What was she, a nun? A nun who bought slaves? "Yes, Mist-Mother Ara."

  Mother Ara turned and strode away. Lizard hurried to follow, mystified. She went around to each of the other Silent slaves up for sale, her manner brisk yet furtive. Lizard exchanged glances with them but didn’t speak. As the entourage grew, Lizard began to wonder if this was an escape. It would explain why they were hurrying and why Mother Ara didn’t want to talk and why she had said Lizard would be free. A tiny spark of hope flared, and he let it remain. Something was going on here, and he had the distinct feeling that he and the other Silent slaves were going to benefit from it.

  Mother Ara lead the group along a white corridor that looked exactly like the one Lizard and his mother had traversed when Mistress Blanc had bought them. The other slaves in the group consisted of a teenage boy and girl about Lizard’s age and a young man who looked to be about twenty. All three of them were white and all three wore the standard metal slave bands on wrist and ankle.

  They arrived at an airlock, and Mother Ara shooed them through into the windowless entry bay of a ship. The moment the airlock had shut and cycled, Ara gave a heavy sigh.

  "Chan," she said, "open intercom to Father Adept Michel. Father, I’ve got them all. I’m for getting out of here!"

  "Understood, and you got it," answered a deep, disembodied voice. A slight vibration immediately followed, and Lizard assumed the ship was underway. Mother Ara turned to them with a wide smile.

  "Welcome," she said, "to the Children of Irfan."

  She said it as if she expected them to cheer. None of them did, or even reacted, including Lizard. Mother Ara gave a small sigh. "You’ve never heard of us, have you?"

  The others either shook their heads or mumbled, "No, Mother Ara."

  "Oh well. You’ll learn. Right now, though, we’ve come to my favorite part." She consulted her data pad for a moment. When she next spoke, her voice became deep and rich with authority. "Lizard Blanc, step forward. Hold out your hands."

  Lizard’s heart began to pound. What was she going to do? Would it hurt? Humiliate? His mind flashed back to his brother Utang and the slaver Feder. What if she was like him? What if-?

  "In the name of Irfan Qasad, founder of our order and mother of us all, I set you free." Ara pressed her thumb to his wristband. "Release."

  For the first time in over three years, Lizard’s band sprang open. It clattered on the deck. The ankleband followed suit of its own accord. Lizard stared down at the stripe of flesh where his wristband had been. The skin was paler and his arm felt oddly light.

  "Do you accept this freedom and all the responsibilities it entails?" Mother Ara asked formally.

  "Yes," Lizard blurted out. "You mean I’m free? Really free?"

  She reached up to put her hands on his shoulders and gave him a solemn nod. "You are free, without reservation, exception, or limitation."

  Lizard couldn’t move. It didn’t seem real. Ara left him and turned to the next slave, the young man. He was a bit taller than Lizard, with brown hair, a pug nose, and intensely green eyes. Handsome. He was also the owner of a small duffel bag-the only person in the group who seemed to have any possessions.

  "Jeren Drew," Mother Ara said, "In the name of Irfan Qasad, founder of our order and mother of us all, I set you free." His bands joined Lizard’s on the floor. Lizard’s earlier flicker of hope leaped into full bloom. It was true. All of it. He watched as she freed the girl, whose name was Willa McRay, and the boy, whose name was just Kite. Willa was painfully thin, perhaps thirteen years old, with stringy dishwater hair and a long nose. Kite was short and about fourteen. He had night-black hair and deep black eyes that met Lizard’s with wonder and awe as his bands fell away.

  "You truly mean this?" Willa said in a tiny whisper. "We’re free?"

  "Absolutely." Ara swept the pile of slave bands aside with her foot as if she were clearing away a pile of trash. "Come along with me and I’ll explain exactly what’s going on."

  A light went on in Lizard’s head. "Mistre-I mean, Mother-wait a minute. You buy Silent slaves?"

  Ara nodded. "Among other things."

  "My mom," Lizard said. "All life-my mom." The words spilled out in a babble. "She’s Silent, too, but someone took her away just before you bought me and it wasn’t more than an hour or two so they can’t have gotten far with her and maybe she’s still on the station or the ship she’s on is still close by." He paused for breath, heart pounding, tension singing along his veins. Every second they spent here was one more second further away. "Please, oh please can you find out if she’s-"

  Ara spun and ran out of the bay without a word. Lizard and the others stared after her. Jeren was the first to recover.

  "Come on!" he said, and ran after her. Lizard and the others hurried to catch up. The corridor beyond the bay was well worn, with beige walls and a gray floor. It smelled faintly of disinfectant.

  "Chan, open intercom to the bridge," Ara yelled as she ran. "Tora, get on the horn to the station. I want their general manager right now. Anna Kay, all stop. How far are we away from the station?"

  Their footsteps echoed off the ceramic tiles. The group passed occasional doors, corridors, and ladders, but they didn’t have time to look at them in detail. Ara didn’t slow a single step and Lizard was surprised at how quickly she could move.

  "Not even two thousand klicks," came Anna Kay’s voice.

  "Ara, what’s going on?" Michel asked.

  "I’m almost at the bridge, Father Adept," Ara replied. "I’ll explain there."

  The doors at the end of the corridor snapped open when Ara approached, and Lizard and the others followed her onto what he assumed was the bridge. It was a fair-sized room, brightly lit, with several workstations and a large view screen that took up most of one wall. Currently it showed a live picture of the station, all white circles and straight lines. A readout in the corner indicated the magnification. Half a dozen humans worked the stations, and keys chattered like teeth beneath their busy fingers. Every one of them wore around his or her neck a round gold medallion the size of Lizard’s palm. A rangy man with dark hair and blue eyes sat in a chair at the center of the bridge.

  "I have the manager’s office," said a small Asian woman in a black jumpsuit. Lizard assumed she was Tora.

  Ara gestured for Lizard to come with her. "The rest of you stand by the door and stay quiet."

  "Ara, what’s up?" the rangy man asked. He looked to be in his fifties.

  "Got a line on another Silent slave, Father, but we
have to move fast," Ara said, dropping into a chair near his. Lizard realized with a start that Father Michel must be the captain. He nervously took up a position next to Ara’s chair, wondering what she was up to.

  "Open the link, audio only," she ordered, and a short burst of static hissed from hidden speakers. "This is Trader Araceil Rymar of Galaxic, Incorporated. Who is this, please?"

  "This is Assistant Station Manager Kent," came a deep voice. "How may I help you?"

  "I have just received word that you sold a Silent slave named-" she gestured at Lizard.

  "Bell Blanc," he murmured. His heart was pounding again.

  "Bell Blanc," Ara repeated. "Earlier you told me that there were only four Silent for sale on the station. Bell, however, wasn’t one of them. Was there a …misunderstanding?" She added a hint of menace to the last word.

  "One moment, Trader Rymar. I am accessing the records." Pause. "The slave Bell Blanc was put into a lot that went up for auction before you arrived, Trader. My sincere apologies."

  "Manager Kent, my corporation has charged me with finding every Silent slave I can get my hands on. Would you be so kind as to tell me who the buyers were and perhaps how I can contact them?"

  Another pause. "Again my apologies, but that information is confidential. We cannot under any circumstances short of a government mandate release that information."

  Lizard staggered, but Michel made a halting gesture.

  "Manager, this is Senior Trader Michel Granger," he said, his deep voice taking on a strangely oily tone. "Is there anything we can do to persuade you? My corporation is very generous to people who aid us. We can arrange-"

  "I’m sorry, Senior Trader," Kent’s tone was frosted with iron, "but that information is absolutely confidential."

  Lizard’s heart dropped into his feet. Ara and Michel harangued, cajoled, and threatened, then demanded to talk to the Station Manager, whereupon they went through the same process, also to no avail. Finally, Ara met Father Adept Michel’s eyes for a brief moment. He shook his head and ordered Tora to close the connection. Then he gestured at Anna Kay, who set to work at the pilot boards. Ara turned back to Lizard.

  "I’m sorry, Lizard," she said softly. "Your mother’s gone."

  Lizard sat in the ship’s lounge, staring out a porthole at the stars and feeling very strange. His eyes were red and sore, and he wore a soft brown robe and comfortable shoes. Lizard’s memory of the moment after Ara told him the bad news about his mother were hazy, but he did remember tearing at his clothes. Hence the robe.

  The other three slaves-Jeren, Willa, and Kite-sat clustered together, talking in low tones. Lizard didn’t feel up to talking, so he ignored them. The lounge was small and dimly lit, but it was comfortably furnished with easy chairs and couches. Stars drifted steadily past the porthole. Every moment widened the distance between Lizard and the last remains of his family.

  Draw strength from us.

  The voice came into his head as clearly as it had in his dream, but Lizard continued to stare out the porthole. He had lost everything important to him-his family, his friend, even his name. He had been answering to the name Lizard as if he’d been born to it. He had no control over anything, over no aspect of his life.

  We are the Real People, and you are part of us.

  But they had been nothing but a dream. A simple, night-time dream. It had felt absolutely real, but that didn’t make it so.

  The mutants can take that from you only if you let them.

  Only if he let them. If only it were that simple.

  Only if you let them.

  Maybe it was.

  Lizard sat up straighter. No one was going to give him control. He knew that. What if he just took it? Starting with his name. Outside the porthole, the stars looked as if they were swimming below him, and if he took a step forward, he could walk on them with no effort.

  Only if you let them.

  Lizard firmed his jaw. So what if it had only been a dream? That didn’t mean the words were any less true. He was one of the Real People, and he had been through pain and trials at the hands of mutants, just as the Real People had, and he had survived. He would survive. They would give him strength.

  The lounge door slid open and Ara came in. She was wearing a gold medallion around her neck like the rest of the bridge crew and a gold ring set with a gleaming piece of green jade graced her right hand. The little group of recently freed slaves stopped talking and turned to face her. Jeren and Willa started to rise, but Ara waved at them to sit and took a chair herself.

  "You aren’t slaves," she said, "and you don’t have to stand up whenever someone comes into the room. Anna Kay says we’re well away from the station and should have slip at any moment now-" As if on cue, the stars exploded into a whirling cacophony of colors. Nausea fluttered in Lizard’s stomach before the porthole darkened.

  "Perfect," Ara said. "I’m sure you have a great many questions by now, and I’ve come down to answer them. Lizard, do you want to join us?"

  "That’s not my name," he said firmly.

  Ara nodded, as if she’d seen the phenomenon before. "All right. What is your name?"

  "Kendi," he blurted, then blinked in surprise. It had been on the tip of his tongue to say Evan. Why had he said Kendi? Then he remembered some of the stories the Real People Reconstructionists had told around the fire on walkabout. A kendi was a magical lizard, quick and intelligent. He thought about it for a moment, then nodded to himself.

  "Kendi," he repeated. "My real name is Kendi."

  "Very well, Kendi," Mother Ara said. It was both odd and pleasing to hear someone else say it. "Would you like to join us? If you’d prefer to be alone-"

  "No," he said. "No, I’m all right." Lizard-Kendi-drew his chair toward the little group which had formed around her. The others made room for him.

  "First," Ara said, "let me explain a few things. As you may have guessed, I don’t work for a corporation."

  They nodded in unison. "Did you really pay for us?" Kendi asked.

  "Oh yes-with good, hard currency. Once I determined each of you was truly Silent, I submitted the instant-buy bid and that was that."

  "Instant-buy bid?" Jeren said, his green eyes all but glowing with intensity. An old scar framed the outside of his right eye and Kendi wondered if his owner had done that to him.

  "The auction is silent, meaning no one knows what anyone else is bidding," Ara said. "But the auctioneers always set an outrageously high price that you can pay if you want to buy on the spot instead of waiting for the bidding to end. I submitted that bid for each of you, and that was that."

  "Youhavethatkindofmoney?" Kite said. He spoke quickly, the words running together like drops of mercury.

  "The Children of Irfan do," Ara told him. She settled herself more comfortably in the chair. "We’re a monastic order. It’s our duty to find Silent, especially enslaved Silent, free them, and bring them back to the monastery on Bellerophon. Before you ask, no-you are not required to join us. You are not required to do anything at all." She leveled them a clear, steady gaze. "You are free citizens. No slave bands, no owners, no obligations to anyone but your own, free selves."

  "Sure, sure," Jeren drawled. "You fork out that kind of cash and don’t expect a thing in return? Next you’re gonna ask me to pull your finger."

  Willa made a shushing noise. "Don’t get her angry. She could make us slaves again."

  "No," Ara said emphatically. "Absolutely not. You do, however, have a choice to make. You can come with me-with us-to Bellerophon and study under the Children of Irfan. The Children will give you room, board, clothing, and a small stipend. You will receive a general education "

  "Wadwedofyou?" Kite said, and Kendi had to think a moment to separate his words.

  Ara seemed to do so as well. "What do you do for us? Well, if you complete your training with us and take your vows as a full Child, you’ll work for the monastery one day for each day you spent in training. During that time, you’ll receive roo
m, board, and a larger stipend. Once your debt is paid, you can leave the Children or stay with us. It’s up to you."

  "We have to work for you?" Jeren said. "Sounds like slavery again."

  "Yeah," Kendi chimed in, also suspicious. "What if we get there and decide we don’t like it?"

  Ara smiled. "You have a year to decide. After that, you’re technically a contract employee. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to sign on." She raised a finger, forestalling Jeren’s next comment. "And no, we don’t leave you stranded on Bellerophon as an incentive to get you to sign. All Silent slaves we buy are given two gifts. The first is your freedom. You have that. The second is a voucher for free passage on any ship to anywhere you want to go. I’ll give you that when we arrive on Bellerophon. You can use it right away, or you can save it to use for later. It’s good for life. If you decide not to stay with us, you can go wherever you like."

  Kendi relaxed a little. "What if we don’t complete the training? I mean, you must have people drop out."

  "It happens," Ara said. "If you drop the training before completing it, you still have to work for the Children one day for each day we trained you. It won’t be in the Dream-you need to complete your training to do official Dream work for us-but there are plenty of other jobs around the monastery that need doing."

  "WouldweloseourSilence?" Kite asked.

  "Certainly not," Ara said. "We wouldn’t do that even if we could. But there is a clause that states you can’t do Dream work for another company for at least three years after you leave the Children. Otherwise we’d become a free training ground for the competition."

  "You got all this in writing?" Jeren demanded.

  "Every word. I’ll bring you all a copy of the policies along with your vouchers. Other questions?"

  "Why did you pretend to be a trader from a corporation?" Willa asked in a tiny voice Kendi could barely hear.

  "It’s easier," Ara said. "There are a lot of people who don’t like the Children. Corporations like the Silent Partners don’t care much for us because we don’t want the big profits they do and we can undercut their prices. Slavers have a grudge because we set people free, which takes them off the market and denies slave-sellers a future commission. If I had come in as Mother Ara of the Children of Irfan, for example, your instant-buy bids would have gone up even higher. They might have even refused to sell to me."