Trickster. Part 17

"Yes."

Another nudge. "Impure!" everyone thundered.

"What other impurities did you commit?" the Delta asked.

Tears were leaking from the Alpha's eyes now. "I . . . I envied other people their freedom."

"Impure!"

"I was hungry and wished for more food," he said.

"Impure!"

"I envied Dreamer Roon's ability to enter the Dream without drugs."

"Impure!" By now, the chorus was strong and solid. Martina said it automatically, as did Utang across from her. The man confessed two more impurities, then broke down and cried, whether from simple humiliation or genuine sorrow at what he had done, Martina couldn't tell. Either way, she didn't blame him for the tears. The Delta got up, knelt next to his chair, and put an arm around him.

"It is finished for now," he said in a kind, fatherly voice. "You've confessed some of your impurities and they will bring you no more N-waves. You are that much closer to Irfan now. Come."

The Delta took the Alpha back to his chair and gave him a small chocolate snack cake. Martina's stomach growled and she found herself staring at the Alpha as he ate the cake. Her earlier craving for sweets awoke. Perhaps her current envy would be a good impurity to confess.

The Delta in charge chose another Alpha, a young woman, for the Confessional. She sat down, nervously gathering her voluminous yellow trousers around her.

"You reek of impurity," the Delta intoned. "The N-waves radiate from your mind and spread your filth to all those around you. You must rid yourself of these things. Confess!"

The Alpha twisted her hands in her lap, refusing to look up.

"What impurities have you committed?" the Delta demanded.

"I guess I . . . I envied Dreamer Roon his ability to enter the Dream so easily."

"Impure!"

"I wanted more food."

"Impure!"

The relentless confessions continued. Most of the Alphas broke down crying, and each got a small snack cake. Martina found herself shouting and pointing with full enthusiasm. At first the fervor had been pretended, an attempt to blend in, but the ritual gesture and shout began to take on a life of its own. The words rang through Martina's body, echoing around the bare room and banging against her very bones. The confessions came more readily. Alphas confessed to anger, greed, pride, unhappiness, and l.u.s.t. One woman said she envied Martina her beauty. At every turn, the word "Impure" thundered through the room.

Finally Utang was chosen. He sat down without looking at Martina. Indeed, he didn't look at anyone. Misery was carved into his very posture. The Delta called out to him to confess.

"I woke with an erection," he said. This was a fairly standard confession among the male Alphas by now, though Martina found herself embarra.s.sed again. The sound of his voice also brought her to the edge of tears. It was a sound from her childhood, and one she had thought she'd never hear again.

"Impure!" boomed the circle.

"I disbelieved Dreamer Roon when he said he could enter the Dream without drugs."

"Impure!"

"I became angry at my Delta."

"Impure!"

"I . . . I . . . " Utang seemed to cast about for something to confess. "I had l.u.s.tful thoughts about that woman," he said, pointing at one.

A shock cracked through Martina's body. She cried out in pain, as did the other Alphas. Utang stiffened, then went limp with a moan.

"That was a lie," said the Delta. "In the Dream there are no untruths, and every lie you tell sends you further away from it than any other impurity. For that reason, all your fellow Alphas have suffered. You do not need to fabricate impurities, Alpha. You have plenty enough to confess."

Utang opened his eyes. They were glazed with sorrow. Several of the Alphas were rubbing their shackled wrists and glaring at him with undisguised anger. Martina found her own temper rising, though her ire wasn't directed toward Utang.

Utang was guided back to his seat. He sat staring down at his hands while the others continued to glare. The Delta didn't give him a snack cake.

"Your turn, dear," Delta Maura said with another elbow nudge. Martina was starting to find the woman annoying.

Martina got up and took the central chair. It felt strange. All eyes were on her, even the ones behind her where she couldn't see. Abruptly, she felt vulnerable and alone.

"Confess, Alpha!" barked the Delta. "What impurities have you committed?"

Martina decided to get it over with. "I envied the other Alphas their cake."

"Impure!"

Martina had to force herself not to shrink back into the chair at the shout. It was even louder and more forceful when she was sitting here, alone in the center of the circle. She felt naked despite her voluminous clothing.

"I disbelieved Dreamer Roon's writings," she said.

"Impure!"

"I questioned the wisdom of Delta Maura."

"Impure."

Martina cast about for more. Except for Utang, the other Alphas hadn't been allowed to leave the Confessional until they had confessed to at least four or five impurities. But Martina couldn't think of anything she had done that was impure. There had to be something. Think!

Inspiration struck. "I wanted to keep track of time."

"Impure!"

"I tried to disobey my Delta during Dreamer Roon's speech today."

"Impure!"

"I was proud of the fact that I was keeping my name." Martina blinked. Where had that that come from? come from?

"Impure!"

The word pounded at her body. To her horror, Martina felt a few tears leaking from her eyes. Then she decided to take advantage of it and pretend to be more upset than she already was. She dropped her face into her hands and let her shoulders shake in false despair. The bio-sensors in her slave shackles, the ones that had no doubt caught Utang's lie, wouldn't catch a falsehood she didn't vocalize--she hoped. Besides, the tears wetting her gloves were real.

She felt no shock, and after a moment, a light touch on her shoulder told her she could rise. Delta Maura seated her in the half-circle and gave her a snack cake. Martina tore the wrapping away and wolfed it down. The sugar raced through her, creating a momentary high that mingled with a sense of relief. She felt immeasurably better.

"Confessional has ended," the Delta said. "You may stand and speak to one another."

The Alphas all got up stretched. Martina almost bolted across the circle to Utang, but forced herself to move casually. He met her halfway.

"Martina?" he asked softly.

"All life," she said, a lump rising in her throat. "It's me, Keith. Or is it Utang?"

He shook his head. "The Real People deserted me. I haven't heard either of those names in years."

"What should I call you, then?" She couldn't believe she was saying something so insipid and mundane.

"Keith." He reached out to touch her, and a shock coursed through Martina, painful, but not as harsh as the earlier one. Keith s.n.a.t.c.hed his hand back. Suddenly Delta Maura was there, her round face stern.

"Physical contact between the s.e.xes is forbidden," she said, firmly pus.h.i.+ng them apart. "The gloves are to protect you from it, but they can't s.h.i.+eld you from the N-waves such things generate. Hence your punishment."

They both murmured apologies. When she had walked away, Martina turned back to him and couldn't think of a single thing to say. She still wanted to hug him. Suddenly she needed to touch another human being, skin-to-skin, no gloves, no cloth. Emotion bubbled inside her and tears gathered in her eyes again.

"Don't cry," he said, his own voice strained. "I don't think we should let them know about . . . about who we are. If this is a place of love and trust, I haven't seen it."

"All life, I feel the same way," Martina said, then gave a tiny laugh. "What are the odds? You and me, both still Silent after the Despair and both brought here."

"The first is more a coincidence than the second," Keith said with a wan smile of his own. "These people are gathering us up. Maybe we'll see Mom and Dad. Or Evan. Have you heard from any of them?"

"No. Do you suppose there's any way to--" She stopped herself automatically. All her life, the word escape escape had earned her a punis.h.i.+ng shock from her shackles, and she had learned not to say it. Keith, however, seemed to understand. had earned her a punis.h.i.+ng shock from her shackles, and she had learned not to say it. Keith, however, seemed to understand.

"I don't know," he said tiredly. "We'll have to keep our eyes open. a.s.suming that there's any place to . . . go to in the first place. We could be anywhere--on a planet, a s.h.i.+p, a station, anything. It's hopeless."

"Time to return to your rooms," announced a Delta.

"We'll talk again," Keith said.

As Delta Maura hooded Martina and led her away, she silently swore she would find a way out of this place. There had to be one.

All she needed was a plan.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

--Drew Fleming, Investigative Reporter, Earth

Rafille Mallory was a plump, motherly-looking woman who kept people in cages. Harenn watched her with hard brown eyes and wondered how the woman could sleep at night.

"That's her?" Bedj-ka said.

"It is," Harenn said. "Stay with me, my son. I do not want to lose her--or you."

Bedj-ka wordlessly fell into step beside Harenn as they threaded their way through the crowd of shoppers. This part of SA Station was given over to consumer goods for the wealthy, and the tall, wide tunnel was lined with expensive shops and exclusive stores. Long balconies created two more floors on both sides of the hallway, and occasional escalators and lifts granted access to them. Potted plants and fountains were artistically scattered about. Brightly-colored clothing displays and the rich smell of baking cookies tugged at Harenn's attention, but she ignored them in favor of the woman she and Bedj-ka were trailing.

By now it felt natural to have Bedj-ka at her side, though Harenn still woke up and looked in on him in the middle of the night, just to make sure he was still there, that his return hadn't been a dream. For his part, Bedj-ka had fallen easily into the rhythm of Harenn's life. When they returned to Bellerophon, she would have to enroll him in school, but for now he a.s.sisted her in engineering, in the medical bay, and today, with a bit of spying. She liked having him there.

Despite all this, Harenn still felt strong flashes of negative emotion. She had missed all but the first month of Bedj-ka's life. She had missed his first steps, his first words, his first day of school, and more. Other people, strangers, had been there to see them instead, and how could they celebrate these things properly, when to them Bedj-ka had been nothing more than a slave? Harenn felt cheated and angry, angry at Isaac Todd, angry at the slavers who had brokered Bedj-ka's sale, angry at this Matron and Patron who had bought him.

Bedj-ka, for all his chatter, actually talked very little of his time in the Enclave. Harenn had managed to glean here and there that they were a small group who viewed the Silent as blessed people who needed to be sequestered because their gift made them more vulnerable to the normal foibles of humanity. Enslavement a.s.sured easier control, so the Enclave bought Silent children, both to "shelter" them and to train them. Once such Silent grew to adulthood and were able to work in the Dream, they kept the Enclave afloat financially by providing communication services. It was similar to the Children of Irfan, in a twisted sort of way.

Rafille Mallory paused to examine display of perfume in a store window. An animated sign flashed Obsess with Pheromones. Harenn hung back to watch. This was growing frustrating. Three days of shadowing had turned up nothing. The woman had no hooks. Jeung and Papagos-Faye had shown vices that had proven easy to exploit, but Mallory had so far shown nothing. Harenn hadn't even been able to determine where on her person she kept her computer key.

Bedj-ka started to speak, then coughed hard.

"Cover your mouth, please," Harenn said, and pretended to stare thoughtfully into a gus.h.i.+ng fountain so she could spy on Mallory, who was smiling at a display of stuffed toys.

"Sorry." Bedj-ka coughed again, this time into his fist. Mallory picked up a small bear in motley colors, considered it, and set it back down again. "When do you want me to do it?"

"Soon," Harenn said.

Mallory wandered into the perfume store, her walk almost a waddle. Harenn decided to wait outside for her rather than follow her inside and risk being noticed. She paid an exorbitant price for two giant cookies from a nearby bakery, and mother and son settled down on a bench to keep an eye out for Mallory's exit. The cookies were warm and soft, made with peanut b.u.t.ter. Neither Harenn nor Bedj-ka much cared for chocolate these days.

"I had a weird dream last night," Bedj-ka announced amid a spray of damp crumbs.

"Do not speak when your mouth is full," Harenn said, taking a delicate bite of her own.

Bedj-ka swallowed and said, "I was walking through the dormitory at the Enclave, but all the rooms were empty and everything made these weird echoes around me. It felt like there were other people there with me, but I couldn't find them anywhere. I looked and looked, and then I started to run, but I still couldn't find anybody. Finally I ended up in the dining hall, and it was empty, too, except the tables were all full of food." He held up the remaining half of his cookie. "There were cookies like this one there, which is why I remembered the dream just now. Anyway, I was hungry, so I grabbed some food to eat it, and then I noticed I was breathing hard and I had to wait until I caught my breath before I could eat. The foods were all my favorite ones--fried chicken and creamed corn and sweet-and-sour fish--and I could eat as much as I wanted and it all tasted really good. That was weird because I never remember stuff like breathing or tasting food in dreams. Then I woke up."

Harenn thought about this. Bedj-ka's dream was fairly straightforward. The empty rooms symbolized his feelings of abandonment and betrayal, while the banquet and its plethora of choices symbolized his new-found freedom. But she wasn't sure that Bedj-ka would appreciate all this.

"Your dream is a good omen, my son," she said. "Dreaming of abundant food indicates good luck for the future, or so the Ched-Balaar say."

"What are they like?" he asked, flipping easily into a new subject. "I've never even seen one, but Father Kendi talks about them sometimes."