Dreams are shadows of the real things.
— Djilangulyip
Beware what you dream, for the difference between dreams and nightmares is but a thin veil of sleep.
— Orrorshan Proverb
1
Her name was Mara, and her pain was almost unbearable. She sat alone in the jungle, staring at the severed metal of her left arm. The hand, all claws and wires and printed circuitry, was gone, ripped away when the Maelstrom formed around the Gaunt Man. Her calculations had been off, and the slight mistake had cost her dearly. Her left hand was the sum of her work, filled with the instruments that allowed her to create microchips. Its loss left her less than whole.
Another wave of pain rippled through her. She knew it was only a sensory ghost, echoes of electrical impulses firing from her brain along synthetic neurons, leaping across enhanced synapses only to find no connecting circuits. They had been obliterated along with her hand, and the resu lting feedback was translated as pain by her cerebral sensors. As long as her nervous system considered the pain real, then it was real and she would have to live with it until her built-in diagnostics corrected for the feedback.
"My hand," she weeped, and suddenly all of the pent up sorrow and frustration of the past few years exploded from her as uncontrolled sobs.
Images of her life on Kadandra flowed across her mind, memories of the child genius being taken from her parents to live at the university so that her progress could be better studied and her potential more fully realized.
... memories of force-education via RNA injections. ... memories of her first cybernetic implant, set into her brain to boost her natural mental capabilities.
... memories of the further cybernetic enhancements, the price of which indentured her to the World Council. ... memories of her theory of the cosmverse and the
subsequent invasion of the Sims. If she had never discovered the damn principle the invasion would never have occurred. Illogical, yes, but her heart told her it was true.
"Dr. HachiMara-Two reports on her theory of the cosmverse to the General Council of the Academy of Sciences ..."
Mara, she thought as the images came unbidden to the surface of her mind. Call me Mara.
"Cosm. A dimension where a particular set of laws holds sway. A specific reality that can be quite different from any other reality."
"Mara, Mara, Mara," she whispered as the images continued. She was only fourteen then, and the Council dismissed her findings as the product of an overly-active imagination. "Fools!" she spat.
"Our own cosm is just one of a multitude of dimensions that, together, form what I refer to as the cosmverse. As our own universe contains the whole of our reality, the cosmverse contains the whole of all realities. What is possible here, using our laws of science, might not be possible in another cosm, where a completely different set of laws govern the workings of their world."
She had been so full of herself then, so sure. If not for her childish pride, she could have had Mikkos or Kendal present the report. They were older, respected. The Council would have listened to them. But then Dr. Hachi Mara-Two wouldn't have received the credit she deserved — or the guilt.
"Mara," she whispered again, "my name is Mara."
The memories flashed by with mechanically-enhanced precision and speed, their clarity and accuracy due to implants which still worked at peak efficiency. They were what gave her an edge, but the edge cut both ways.
More sobs, and tears flowed from her one natural eye.
It isn't fair," she wailed, acting like a child and disgusted by it.
"Stop. Acting. Your. Age." She shot the words through clenched lips like bullets from a gun, one at a time between her sobs.
"What is wrong with acting your age once in a while?" Asked a usually commanding voice that was now soft and gentle.
Wiping the tears from her cheek, Mara turned to see Tolwyn walking toward her. She turned away quickly, trying to hide her tears. She did not want the strong warrior to see her showing weakness. It was ... unbecoming.
Tolwyn gently brushed at Mara's mane of silver hair. "Do not turn from me, child," she said soothingly. "Let me help you."
Mara forced the sobs to subside before she spoke. "I don't want you to see me like this."
"Like what?" Tolwyn asked, genuinely surprised. "To see you acting human? What is the shame in that? You have been asked to do more than someone your age should ever have to worry about. The weight of worlds has been on your shoulders for so long. It is all right to let some of the pain and sorrow come out, as long as it does not overwhelm you."
"But what good am I now?" Mara cried. "I lost my hand!"
"Yes, you have. But you are still alive. You still have your mind and all the knowledge that it contains. We need that knowledge, Mara. We need your spirit," Tolwyn explained.
More memories flashed through Mara's mind. Her days as a soldier for the World Council, battling beside friends and companions against the Sims, suddenly came to the surface. All of those people — people that she knew and loved — they were gone now, dead at the hands of the Sims. But her contributions allowed Kadandra to eventually destroy the connections that gave the techno-demons access to her cosm. That had to count for something. If only her curiosity hadn't gotten the best of her. If only she hadn't looked through her cosmscope a second time. Then she would not have seen Earth — and neither would the Sims.
"You don't need me, Tolwyn," she finally replied. "All I've ever done was get people killed. It was my fault that the Sims attacked Kadandra, my fault that they discovered this world. You and the others will be better off without me." She turned away.
Tolwyn grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. "How dare you give up now!" Tolwyn shouted, the softness in her voice replaced with her usual commanding tone. "We have accomplished much, you and I, but neither my world nor this one is yet free of the invaders. If this is all your fault, which I do not believe, but if it is, then by giving up now you are conceding victory to the Sims and those like them. You owe it to yourself to finish what we have started. It is the only way to ease your guilt and get on with your life."
"What life?" Mara raged back. She was standing now, looking up at the taller woman. "I've never had a life! All I've had was potential and responsibility. You can't understand that, but it's true."
"I am the daughter of Duke Bordal of House Tancred," Tolwyn answered evenly. "I am heir to the throne of House Tancred, leader of the Knight Protectors of Aysle, paladin of honor. I know what responsibility is. I know what it means. There is no little cottage in my future, no
in.in who will be with me simply because of love. No, .»i»y happiness I find is a passing thing. My happiness must be second to the interests of the estate. That is life in Aysle for the daughter of a House Duke."
I ol wyn calmed herself before speaking further. Then she said, "Our roads are not so different, Dr. Hachi Mara-Two. But they are ours nonetheless, and we must see where they lead."
Mara stared at the paladin, trying to find something more to say. "Mara," she finally managed, "call me Mara." She fell into Tolwyn's arms and sobbed.
"We need you, Mara," Tolwyn said gently, letting the young woman cry freely into her shoulder. "I need you."
For a brief time, Mara felt like a little girl again, snuggled safely in her mothers arms. The pain subsided, both physical and mental, as Tolwyn rocked her and squeezed her tightly.
2
Father Christopher Bryce examined the few supplies they still had. There wasn't much. A lot had been lost in Illmound Keep. But supplies were only part of their problem. There was also the melancholy mood that had settled over them since leaving the Gaunt Man's town.
Tom O'Malley, the Australian pilot, sat with the dwarves beside a large rock. They whispered in low tones, mourning the deaths of the other dwarves. Only Pluppa, Gutterby, Grim and Toolpin remained of the seven that had journeyed from Aysle realm, and they had not been their talkative, argumentative, overly optimistic selves since the batt
le beneath the Gaunt Man's manor. Even the normally enigmatic aborigine Djilangulyip was passive, staring blankly at the knotted
rope he carried.
Poor Mara had gone into the jungle to be alone, and Tolwyn had followed after her to see to her state of mind. They all needed a boost, something to get them moving again. They needed a purpose.
"So, Toolpin," Bryce started tentatively. "What are you going to do when we reach Aysle?"
The young, beardless dwarf looked up, regarding the priest with a blank expression. "I shall probably die, like Tirad and Braxon and Praktix. Lady Ardinay shall kill us for deserting, if the evil Uthorion doesn't get us first."
Bryce was truly dismayed! Even the jovial Toolpin was filled with dark and morbid thoughts. "Is that any way to think, Toolpin?" the priest asked. "What would Tolwyn say?"
"I don't want to die, Father Bryce," Toolpin answered seriously.
"We'll have no more talk of death," Mara exclaimed as she emerged from the bush. Beside her was Tolwyn, walking regally as ever.
Bryce could see streaks along Mara's cheek, and puffiness around her eyes, the telltale signs of weeping. But she looked better than she had since losing her cybernetic hand. She looked ready to get on with her self-appointed mission.
"It's time to move out," she said, trying to lighten her tone as much as possible. "Come on Tom, Djil. Let's get it in gear."
"How are we going to get out of here?" Tom asked impatiently. "The horses are on their last legs, our supplies are almost gone, and my plane exploded when we landed. There just isn't a way to get out of this land of horrors. We're trapped here in Borneo."
Bryce started to say something, but Tolwyn cut him off with a fierce look. He had seen that look before. It meant no more discussion, no more talk. It meant she was ready for action.
"We will find a way, Tom O'Malley," Tolwyn stated. "Pluppa, hitra!" she called in the Ayslish tongue.
Bryce didn't understand the word, but he knew the tone. It reminded him of an army sergeant calling his troops to attention. At the word, Pluppa leaped up and repeated the phrase. The other dwarves leaped to their feet as well. They faced Tolwyn and raised their battle spikes into the air.
"Hai Tolwyn!" the dwarves yelled in unison.
"Hai Aysle!" Tolwyn returned.
3
Ellen Conners waited in the temporary office she set up at Twentynine Palms. This was her command post at the marine base. From here she could find out what was happening at the battlefront some one hundred and forty miles to the northwest. She could also keep tabs on the search for Andrew Decker, the man the Delphi Council was accusing of assassinating President Jonathan Wells.
There was a knock at the door, and Colonel McCall entered the room. With him were two teenage boys. One carried a large, gray cat.
"Are these the boys we spoke about, Colonel?" Conners asked.
"This is Coyote and Rat," McCall answered curtly.
He didn't like her, and he didn't hide it in his tone. That was okay. Ellen Conners hadn't gotten to the top of American politics by making friends or winning popularity contests.
"Thank you, Colonel, that will be all," she said,
dismissing McCall without pause.
McCall hesitated, started to s
Conners inspected the boys, giving them the once over with her patented gaze that was reputed to turn her opponents in the Senate to stone. They returned her gaze without flinching. That impressed her. She would have to watch these two carefully.
"So, tell me," she began, "how well d id the two of you know Congressman Decker?"
The younger boy, Rat, started to speak, but the older boy nudged him. They remained silent.
Conners regarded them coldly. "I see," she said at last. "You hope to protect the congressman by staying silent. I'll tell you both up front that it won't work. Your silence does him no good. It simply implicates the two of you in his crime."
"Ace didn't kill nobody!" Rat exclaimed.
"Be quiet, Rat," Coyote ordered, handing the cat to the younger boy as he stepped closer to Conner's desk. "Why are you doing this to Ace?" he asked her.
Ellen Conners smiled. "My dear young man, Decker is a murderer. He murdered the President of the United States. Worse, he murdered his friend. Why do you seek to protect a man like that?"
Coyote's face twisted angrily. "You're a liar, lady," he spat. "Ace was trying to save the President. No matter what you say, we know that for a fact. And so does Colonel McCall and everybody else on this base. So say what you want, 'cause it don't mean jack."
The youth turned away, motioning Rat toward the door.
"One moment, young man," Conners snapped, rising
out of her seat. "I'm not finished speaking to you yet."
Coyote pushed the younger boy into the hall before he turned back to face the director of the Delphi Council. "If you're not finished, then keep talking," he said. "I'm going off to have lunch, so be sure to speak loudly."
The youth slammed the door as he exited. How dare he! If this Coyote thought this was all a gane, then she would have to show him the seriousness of his actions. She was the director of the Delphi Council! If she said Decker killed Wells, then Decker killed Wells. There was nothing more to say about it. Why, if she told the American people that the sky was now green and the grass was blue, they would believe her! The security of the country was too important for that not to be true.
She sat back down, absently patting her raven-black hair into place. If only Decker hadn't gone to the front, she thought. If only she had arrived a few hours earlier. Then none of this would be a problem. The congressman would be in custody and they would have a sacrifice to parade before the American people. As it was, all they had were too many loose ends.
Conners checked her hair in her compact mirror. She hated loose ends. She snapped the compact closed. Vice President Dennis Quartermain — no, now he was President Quartermain — had told her specifically not to send her men after Decker. Let him go, he said. It will look like he's running. Besides, Quartermain assured her, a special agent was on his way to deal with the congressman in the most expedient manner available. She sighed.
No matter what Quartermain had said, Ellen Conners still hated loose ends.
4
Andrew Jackson "Ace" Decker could hear the i ndignation in Colonel Matthews' tone. The officer wasn't bothering to keep his voice down, perhaps couldn't, even if he had time for such niceties as courtesy and respect. Decker's own voice was weary, hoarse from the ash that continued to drift down out of the night sky. He looked up into the darkness, glancing away from Colonel Matthews for a second so that he could gather his thoughts. The long night was back, replacing the long day that felt like it went on forever. It would get cold soon, but the volcanic ash overhead would forestall truly bitter temperatures by keeping the heat from dissipating too quickly.
"I don't know who you think you are, Congressman Decker, but this is my show," Colonel Matthews bellowed, breaking through Decker's thoughts. "I don't need you or anyone else to tell me how to run it."
Decker let his anger out in controlled bursts directed at the colonel. "Look around, Matthews," he shouted. "We're up against more than just dinosaurs and lizard men. We're fighting our own planet.. If the world continues to slow down, we'll have more than just the edeinos to worry about. Not to mention the changes in reality..."
"Let's not get into that again, Decker," Matthews returned. "I've got enough problems without your mumbo-jumbo getting in the way."
The colonel was sticking a beefy finger into Decker's chest, tapping the spot so recently pierced by one of the Gaunt Man's rune staves. But only the memory of the staves remained. His chest was unscarred, no physical reminder of the ordeal remained. Decker caught the colonel's wrist before the finger could jab again and pushed it away. Then he turned from the still-ranting colonel and walked back to
the tent where his associates were meeting.
Beneath the canvas covering, seated around a folding table that held a map of the area, were three men, a woman, and an edeinos. They looked up as Decker approached.
"The man is a fool," Decker informed them.
"He does not want to see that this is a war of reality as much as of physical conflict," Kurst said. The shapeshifter wore army fatigues now, as did the rest of the company. His timely appearance had saved Decker from the claws of the weretiger Scythak, and he had agreed to accompany Decker to the battlefront here in the Sequoia National Forest.
"That's what I said," Decker replied. "The man is a fool."
"Don't let him get to you, Ace," Major Julie Boot said. "You'll find a way to convince him to listen to you."
Tal Tu, the edeinos who had forsaken his own reality to assist Earth against his people, nodded sideways in his lizard manner. "Until you get him to understand, Baruk Kaah will continue to have the advantage."
"I understand," Major Charles Covent answered. He had received his field promotion before returning to the front, and now he served as second-in-command of the military forces defending this side of the raging storm front. "And I'll find a way to convince Colonel Matthews of the tactics we've discussed. He'll listen to me. It will just take time."
"Hey, I've been with this Baruk Kaah," Eddie Paragon, the final member of the assemblage said. Paragon was a rock'n'roll star who had the unfortunate luck of being selected to sing the National Anthem at Shea Stadium's opening day baseball game. Unfortunate because that was the day the maelstrom bridge from Takta Ker fell to Earth and the invasion of North America started. "I've seen his troops in action, and I've seen the Wild Hunt that fights alongside him. You don't have much time. Baruk Kaah wants this region, and he'll do everything in his considerable power to get it."
Decker saw frustration work itself across Covent's face, and he understood the feeling. It was demoralizing that the edeinos, with their dinosaurs and their spears, could so totally overrun the best modern fighting units in the world, but it was happening here and on other fronts here in the west and back east more often than not. Communications into the invasion zones were practically non-existent. The fronts just kept getting swallowed up, and then all they heard was silence.
torg 03- The Nightmare Dream Page 2
