The Dream Voyagers

by T. Davis Bunn

  The doors sighed back, and Consuela passed through, her eyes never seeming to blink. Inside, the spaceport was open spaces and burnished marble floors and sparkling surfaces. The info-voice whispered its habitual, “Greetings and welcome to the Hegemony Spaceport. State your needs, and the way will be shown.”

  From the look on her face Wander realized, “You weren’t even shown the spaceport?”

  “No, I . . .” Consuela pointed to the triangular column rising in front of them. “Was that what spoke?”

  “Scout Wander entering grounds,” Wander said toward the waist-high column. Then to Consuela he said, “State your name as I did.”

  “Scout Consuela entering grounds,” Consuela said, her voice stumbling softly over the words.

  “Greetings and welcome, Scouts. Your presence is noted and Grade-C clearance granted.”

  “You have to say this every time you come in,” Wander said. “Your voice is checked against records, and security flashes your image. Then if you don’t know where to go, you speak like this.” He turned back to the column and said, “Request guidance to private quarters of Scout Consuela.”

  “Follow the yellow path,” came the instant reply. At Wander’s feet a light appeared and shot out across the hall, disappearing around a corner.

  “That’s great,” Consuela cried, so delighted by the simple spectacle that Wander had to laugh.

  He said, “Not really. It’s fine when you only have a few people looking for something, but when the port is busy, the floor looks like a spider web and everybody gets mixed up. Last week we had some Hegemony bigwig get so lost we had to hold up the vessel outbound for—”

  “Scout Wander, are you not on duty?”

  Wander stiffened to full alert, gave an instant to hoping that his hand-holding with Consuela had been hidden by the folds of their robes, and without turning replied, “Twenty minutes still, Pilot.”

  “Don’t leave your arrival to the last minute,” snapped the reedy voice behind them. “And who, pray tell, is this?”

  “Scout Consuela, sir.”

  “Scout who? We don’t have any Scout Consuela. . . .” The tall, gaunt man stepped in front of them. He wore the midnight blue robes of a full pilot, his shoulders flecked with the stars of seniority. His head was utterly void of hair—no eyebrows, no beard, no nothing. It granted his eyes an even more piercing quality than they already had. He lifted the noteboard from its waist pouch, keyed in, then nodded. “Ah, yes. The newcomer. The name escaped me for a moment.” Frosty gray eyes peered at her. “I suppose Alena checked you in?”

  Consuela gave a hesitant nod. Wander winced at the coming storm, but the pilot was too miffed to notice Consuela’s lack of proper reply. “I thought so,” he groused. “Typical of her sloppy work. No details noted whatsoever. I am amazed you were even outfitted. Did she manage to show you your quarters?”

  “No, sir,” Consuela said meekly.

  “No, Pilot,” he corrected automatically, his eyes still on the noteboard. “Sirs are passengers and other cattle.” He shook his head. “Just look at this. Alena didn’t even manage to note your homeworld. I would castigate her severely were she not already outbound for her new assignment. Well, that is certainly no loss.” He gave an exasperated sigh. “At least this is the last mess of hers I shall have to clear up. All right. Where are you from, Scout?”

  “Baltimore,” came the timid reply.

  “Baltimore?” A hairless brow furrowed in concentration. “That is a world unknown to me.”

  “I believe it is beyond the Rim, Pilot,” Wander offered.

  “Ah. An outworlder. Of course. There are few ships out your way, I suppose, and thus you were granted entry at this late date.” He peered at her over the board, his gaze openly curious, before murmuring, “Remarkable. Well, once again talent is shown to have no borders.”

  “If you are busy, Pilot Grimson,” Wander volunteered, “I could show her around.”

  “Yes, I suppose the outworld newcomer will be needing a guide. Very well, Scout, but I caution you not to shirk your other duties.” He glanced at his chronolog. “Which include reporting to the duty officer immediately.”

  “On the bounce, Pilot,” Wander replied and motioned with his head for Consuela to follow him. Once they were out of earshot, he told her, “That wasn’t too bad.”

  “He is important?” Consuela asked.

  “Senior Pilot Grimson is responsible for the scout training course,” Wander replied. “And he has a reputation that reaches through the Hegemony. The first day I was on the course, my guide told me the reason you never saw scouts with more than ten downchecks on their record was that Grimson ate them for breakfast. Sometimes I almost believe it.”

  Consuela hesitated at the entrance to the Plexiglas chute. Grateful for the chance to take her hand once more, Wander assured her, “It’s easy. Just grasp one of the rails and let it guide you up. Come on, we can take this one together, if you don’t mind being a little cramped.”

  She shook her head, then stepped in with him, and when the gravity diminished to one-tenth G, she let out a little, “Ooooh.”

  He found her innocence delightful. “The first time I stepped into a gravity chute—I was only twelve or thirteen—I thought the idea was to climb. I got all tangled up with this woman in a long veil, and the only thing that saved me from serious trouble was that I screamed so loudly she was glad to let me go.”

  She followed his example, locking her arm into the support-rod so that her twelve-pound weight was kept stationary. She asked him, “Are you from beyond the—I forgot what he called it?”

  “The Rim,” he said, suddenly ashamed. “I’m sorry. Outworlder isn’t a nice thing to call you. The way people say it around here, it means primitive.”

  “I suppose it’s true,” she said, looking at the grand vista of the spaceport. “Compared to this.”

  “I’m from right here,” Wander said, for some reason feeling able to tell her anything. “The reason I had never seen a gravity chute is because there aren’t any in the barrio. And I was twelve before I ever left it, except when I would come over to the field to watch the ships take off and land. That’s how I got my name. From what my family says, I started wandering off as soon as I learned how to walk. There’s this busy highway between the barrio and the port, but I found a drainage tunnel that was just high enough for me to walk through.”

  She was watching him with grave dark eyes. “You were born in a barrio?”

  “The worst in the Hegemony,” he stated. “My dad was a miner until he lost his leg in a phaser accident. My mom worked as a servant in a rich pilot’s house. She used to tell us stories about how the man lived, but we didn’t really believe her. Nobody could live like that, we thought.”

  Her gaze did not flinch at the shameful truth, so he asked, “What about you?”

  “I never knew my father,” she replied calmly, her gaze locked in on his. “My mother drinks.”

  He felt a sense of harmony so strong it filled his chest to bursting. “My dad hits the bottle hard too. Here we are, this is our level. Okay, step out, that’s it, keep your legs loose until the gravity stabilizes, great, you’ve got it.” He pointed to the tall bronze doors. “This is the Control Tower. You can come in if you like, but I’ll be pretty busy. They keep the scouts running errands and playing the mind games.”

  “Mind games?”

  “You’ll see.” He pointed down a corridor behind them. “Your quarters will be along there somewhere. There’s another info column just around the corner. Ask for directions. Tell your name to the door, that will give you entry. My room is thirty-four, the last on the hall. If you have any trouble, come down and state your name, and I’ll code it for you to have entry. Are you hungry?”

  She seemed to search for the answer. “Yes.”

  “The room controls are voice coded. Say ‘lights’ and they’ll switch on or off, whichever they are not at the moment. Same for bed, desk, chair, shower, and so o
n. We work odd hours, so there’s a meal chute in each room. Just ask for menu. Okay?”

  She squeezed his hand and dredged up a smile. “You’ve been really nice to me. Thank you.” She hesitated, then said, “I really appreciate your sharing the spectacle with me. If I don’t see you again, I just wanted you to know that.”

  “What do you mean? I’m your guide. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

  She remained unconvinced. “Anyway, I think you are a really nice person.”

  “I have watch for three hours,” he said, finding it hard to get the words out. “Then I’ll go to bed, unless you want to come by.”

  She shook her head. “I’m pretty tired.”

  “Sure. Oh, and one thing. Don’t mention mind-lag to the pilot. He thinks a scout should be able to control things like that, and you’ll get a downcheck.”

  “Thank you, Wander,” she said quietly, and something in her voice made it sound as though she were saying good-bye.

  “You’re welcome,” he replied, unable to mask his grin. “If you like, I’ll come by and collect you for class.”

  Again there was the hesitation, then, “That would be fine. Good-night.”

  He watched her make her way down the hallway, pausing to take in everything from the view out over the ship fields to the circular illumination-sculpture poised near the ceiling. Wander had the momentary impression that she was trying to imprint it all on her memory, as though seeing it for the first and last time. Then he shook his head. Mind-lag did strange things to people. In his few weeks here, he had already heard a number of travelers’ stories.

  He turned and announced himself to the security doors, then bounded up the curving ramp leading to the tower, a sense of gaiety leaving him weightless.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, Consuela lay in her bed for a long time after awakening. The darkness which surrounded her had been her most secret shield for as long as she could remember. Her tiny bedroom was a sort of afterthought, placed in the exact center of the tenement apartment, and had no windows. When she was little, she would retreat from the bad times by coming in and turning off the lights and sliding under her bed. With her cheek pressed against the cold hardwood floor and her arms cuddling the blanket’s scratchy warmth, she would give herself over to dreams.

  Now she was older, and reality did not scare her as it once had. The loneliness she had known as a child still remained her constant companion, but she was no longer frightened. Now she knew she possessed an inner strength that would help her through the toughest trials. As she had grown up, she had also grown determined.

  Consuela saved every cent she could toward college. She was going to study computer software and graphic design. She had read that this was the coming wave and that companies could not find enough qualified people. Salaries were good, and work was plentiful. That was why she was so set on college, to find a good job. At the ripe old age of seventeen, Consuela had already gained enough experience of poverty and hardship to last a lifetime.

  Now she lay in the darkness of her closet-room, and wondered at the strange half-memories which lingered from the previous night’s dreams. Stranger still was how she could not remember leaving either Rick and the carnival. As far as she could recall, one moment she had been on the roller coaster, the next she had been dreaming those strange and powerful dreams. She wondered if perhaps Rick had put something in her drink—but no, she had not had anything to eat or drink, at least not that she could recall. She lay on her bed and stared up into the pitch black. The slender line of light which otherwise would have told her day had arrived was blocked from coming in under her door by the rug she always jammed in place before lying down. Consuela found herself reluctant to get up and start this day, for it would mean letting this particular memory go.

  And Wander. She rolled over, hugging her pillow to her chest. He had the saddest eyes she had ever seen. She would remember those eyes for a very long time to come.

  Consuela sighed long and deeply, wishing there were some way to have spent more time with him. In Wander she had felt a kinship, a bonding that went beyond time and space and the borders of dreams. She had sensed a depth that mirrored her own, a harmony of hearts. She remembered how he had held himself there beside her in the chute and said with that calm sorrowful strength of his that he had been born in a barrio. Yes, it was as though the dream and Wander’s calm confession had been meant as some sort of dreamtime lesson, found there in the beautiful sadness of Wander’s eyes.

  Sally. As Consuela sat up and swung her feet to the floor, she decided that one person she could tell was her best friend, Sally. At least Sally would not laugh at her.

  Then her feet touched the floor, and Consuela cried aloud.

  Instead of a scuffed hardwood floor, she felt soft carpet. She reached out, moving blindly until she touched the wall, and cried again. The warm-smooth surface tingled slightly under her fingers, as though the power required to produce the articles upon demand could be felt.

  “Light!” she gasped, and cried a third time when the illumination revealed the alien room, her pale blue robe lying crumpled on the floor where she had flung it.

  “Bed!” Silently her bed retreated back into the wall, melding into the bland, smooth surface. Now the room was utterly bare, save for a small plaque by the door. There were listed, in a strange language which somehow she could read perfectly well, all the commands that the room understood.

  “Mirror!” she called, and when the reflecting surface was revealed, Consuela stared into the sleep-tousled face of a scared young woman.

  The doorchime caused her to leap completely clear of the floor. A disembodied voice announced calmly, “Scout Wander requests entry.”

  “Just a minute.” Frantically she plucked up the robe and slipped it on, grasped the long feather-light stocking-boots and pulled them up. She moved back to the mirror, brushed her hair with her fingers, then straightened, took a deep breath, and said, “Door.”

  Wander was there, smiling in such a way that even the usual sadness of his eyes was muted. The sight of him touched her so unexpectedly that she had a sudden urge to rush up and hug him close. Instead she smiled and said, “I’m still here.”

  “So I see. Mind-lag better?”

  “I think so.”

  “Excellent. Have you eaten?”

  “Not yet.” Wanting him to know how great it was to see him again, she said, “I was sort of waiting for you.”

  A flush of pleasure crept out of his collar and spread across his features. “We’d better hurry, then. Class starts in less than an hour.”

  ****

  Sally was totally astonished, when her mother called her downstairs Saturday morning, to greet Rick at her front door.

  He stood there looking foolish, trying to hide it behind a big smile. “Hey, Sals, how’s it going?”

  “Rick!” She pulled her overlong T-shirt down straight and wished she could slam the door, shout at her mother for not giving her fair warning, and race back upstairs for makeup and other clothes. “What are you doing here? I mean, would you like to come in?”

  “No thanks. Look, I’m sorry to come by so early, but I talked to Cindy this morning, and she said you might know where Consuela lives.” Cindy was head cheerleader and the girlfriend of Rick’s best buddy. “She said Consuela gave her some story about their redoing the exchanges in her neighborhood or something, she wasn’t sure. Anyway, she didn’t even have her telephone number.”

  “I don’t either,” Sally said, both relieved and jealous that the reason for Rick’s visit was Consuela and not her. What was it about that girl? “I kept asking her for it, and she always gave me one excuse or another. I guess I finally just gave up.”

  Rick looked skeptical. “You’re her best friend, and you don’t have her number?”

  “I know it sounds crazy, but Consuela is real mysterious about a lot of stuff.” Sally shrugged. “I don’t even know where she lives.”

  �
�But her telephone number? Come on, you’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I don’t have it. Really. Why, is something the matter?”

  Instantly Rick’s attitude became overly casual. “No, of course not. We just had a sort of crazy end to the night, you know, and I wanted to talk with her. That’s all.”

  They had a fight. Sally could not totally hide her smirk. He tried to put the moves on her, and Consuela gave him the brush-off. Way to go, girl. “Gee, I wish I could help, Rick. But unless Consuela calls me, I’ve got to wait and see her at school.”

  “Hey, it’s no big deal. I’ll talk to her Monday.” Another of the patented Rick smiles. “Have a great weekend, okay?”

  “Thanks, Rick. You too.”

  “If you hear from her, ask her to give me a call.” He skipped lightly down the stairs and walked toward his car. “See you around.”

  Chapter Five

  It was all his fault.

  Wander did not mean to make their arrival so late. But talking was so easy with Consuela. At breakfast he lost all track of time, until he happened to look up and realize they were the only scouts left in the residence hall. He glanced at the wall chrono and leapt to his feet. “Come on!”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Class is starting right now. Hurry!”

  Together they raced down the corridors and entered the room just as Pilot Grimson stepped onto the podium. Bad, but no downcheck.

  The pilot frowned in their direction. “You are setting what unfortunately is coming to be the expected example from you, Scout Wander.” He silenced the snickers that rose from the room with a single frigid glare, then turned his attention back to the pair. “Scout Consuela, you must appear more promptly from now on.”

  “Yes, Pilot,” she said quietly.

  “Very well. You will take the seat corresponding to your chamber number. This will apply to all training rooms and lecture halls.” As Consuela walked to where he pointed, Grimson continued to the class as a whole, “I ask you to join me in welcoming the newest addition to this scout squadron. Consuela’s arrival was unavoidably delayed by a lack of transport to the Hegemony.”