“You should have gone—the search could have waited.”
“Where were you? You could have followed him yourself.”
“Obviously we wouldn’t be in this mess now if I had!”
“Something’s happened to him, I tell you. I saw him waiting in line at the commissary.”
“Shut up! I don’t want to hear any more! All that matters now is that we have to find him—and fast!”
“Where should we begin?”
“I don’t know. He could be anyplace by now.”
“I told you we should have gone to Hocking at once—as soon as he didn’t show up for the session,” Millen moaned.
“What difference does it make now what you told me? We could not risk making Reston suspicious. He knows something is going on. He’s hiding somewhere.”
“Well, he can’t have gone far.”
“He’s on the station somewhere, and we have only four hours to find him. Wait a minute! I have an idea! I know where to start looking!”
The tram whizzed away on its magnetic cushion as the two began their frenzied search of Gotham.
ARI FELT STRANGE IN Spence’s rooms. She had never been to his quarters, or even the lab. Now everything she saw seemed heavy with the presence of him. She was afraid to touch anything lest she somehow disturb his memory.
She shook the feeling off. “He’s only gone on a trip,” she told herself. “He hasn’t died.”
But the eerie morbidity still lingered like a chill in the small room.
He could have at least made his bed, she thought. She bent to the task, but drew her hand back from touching the blankets. No, leave it as it is. Leave everything as he left it.
The funeral atmosphere of the room was about to stifle her and she wanted only to get away. She found the model of the space station in the pocket of his jumpsuit, where he said it would be. She fished it out, replaced the jumpsuit and left the room, stepping back into the darkened lab.
“What have we here!”
“Oh! Oh! You scared me,” cried Ari as the lights went on and she found herself in the grasp of Tickler. Kurt stood at the portal with his hand at the access plate.
“I did not mean to startle you, miss. I thought you might be a prowler.”
Ari gasped and blushed. “I… I was looking for Dr. Reston.”
“Are you a friend of his?” Tickler still held her arm tightly.
“Yes, are you his assistant?”
“I am Dr. Tickler. What did you want to see him about?”
“Oh, something personal. But it’s all right. I can come back some other time.”
“Yes, perhaps you’d better.” Tickler regarded her carefully, his eyes stealing over every inch of her. “What is that you have there?”
“This? It’s just a paperweight,” she said uncertainly. She resented Tickler’s attitude. “Now if you will excuse me …” She pulled her arm free from his grasp.
“Of course, I’m sorry. It’s just that we cannot be too careful, you know. The work is very important.”
He stepped aside and Ari passed with an air of offended dignity. Inside she was frightened by the way Tickler had treated her. She began to see why Spence wished his mission to remain a secret, and she did not regret the lie she told to cover her reason for being there.
She reached the portal and went through without looking back. Once out of sight she hurried down to the ComCen section to place Mr. Reston’s paperweight in the mailframe of the next shuttle down.
“Follow her,” said Tickler as soon as she left. “I want to know what she’s doing with that model.”
Kurt went out at once and slipped unseen upon her trail.
THE MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN’S BLUE eyes stared out onto a green expanse of lawn bordered by high hedge rows and softly swaying willows. A light breeze lifted the leaves of a lilac bush near the open French doors. She sat primly in a large overstuffed chair, her hands folded in her lap. Wrapped in her shapeless cotton print dress of faded blue she looked like a doll grown old waiting for her young mistress to come back and rescue her from loneliness and love her once again.
“Mrs. Zanderson …” a voice at the door intoned gently.
The woman did not move; there was not a flicker of response in the vacant blue eyes.
“Mrs. Zanderson?” A white-uniformed attendant slipped into the room silently and came to stand by the chair. “It’s time for your medication, Caroline. Here now.”
The nurse held out a green capsule in a white paper cup and placed it in the woman’s hand. She took the hand and lifted it toward the woman’s mouth and tipped it in.
“There, now. Would you like to go for your walk this morning?”
The woman stared unmoving out the open doors.
“All right, then. Let’s get up now. That’s right. We’ll have a nice walk before lunch. Come along. That’s right.”
The nurse pulled her gently to her feet and with a hand under her arm guided her out onto the broad green lawn. As they crossed the threshold the woman looked back to her room as if she had left something of inestimable value behind and feared for its safety. “My chair!” she cried.
“Your chair will be safe while we’re gone. It will be there when we return.”
The woman accepted the attendant’s assurance. She turned back to her stroll with a look of grim determination as if she were embarking on a walking tour of the continent. She tilted her head toward her nurse and confided as one with a dark secret, “They are waiting for me back there. They want my chair, you know.”
“We won’t let them take your chair. Don’t you worry about it.”
“You don’t believe me. No one believes me. They want my chair.”
“Who wants your chair, Caroline? Tell me all about it.”
“You’re playing with me. You don’t believe me.”
“Then you tell me. Who wants your chair?”
The voice became a dry whisper. “The Dream Thief—he wants me, but he can’t get me. So he wants my chair. You won’t let him take it, will you?” The deep blue eyes went wide.
“No, no. He won’t get your chair. And he won’t get you, either. We’ll fix him. Don’t you worry.”
They walked out upon the lawn in the yellow sunlight of a clear, cloudless day. Several other patients strolled the grounds under the watchful eyes of attendants in white. Mrs. Zanderson calmed under the warmth of the day and forgot her agitation of a few moments before. Recognition drifted back to those troubled eyes.
“Why, I know you—you’re Belinda.”
The nurse smiled and nodded. “That’s right; you remembered.”
“Is my Ari here? I want to see my little girl.”
“Ari is all grown-up now, remember? She isn’t here now, but she’ll be coming to see you soon.”
“I have to see her right now! I must warn her!”
“Warn her, Caroline? What would you warn her about?”
“The Dream Thieves, silly. They are after her, too. I know it. I can feel them. They’re after her. You don’t believe me, do you?”
“I think you’re getting yourself all worked up over nothing, Caroline. We won’t let the nasty old dream thieves get your Ari, will we? No. Of course not.”
“You’re making fun of me!”
“No, I’m not. Maybe we’d better go inside and lie down for a little while before lunch. You’ll feel much better after a little rest.”
“No—no! I’ll be good. Let’s walk some more. I won’t say anything else. Please, let’s walk.”
“All right, Caroline. Just as you say. We’ll walk—but we won’t talk about the dream thieves anymore, shall we? You just let me take care of them for you. Look at the pretty flowers, Caroline. All the red ones and yellow ones—aren’t they beautiful?”
“Yes. Beautiful.”
Mrs. Zanderson had withdrawn into her shell. She stared ahead dully; her features appeared cast in gray stone. After a short tour of the grounds the nurse brought her back to her room where
she once again took up her vigil, gripping the arms of the faded red chair with her thin hands like an eagle guarding her clutch.
21
ALL THE PICTURES SPENCE had ever seen of the red planet failed to do it justice. Mars shone with a rosy glow like a big, pink harvest moon, its mysterious canals traced in dark red across the surface. Against the black of space with its litter of stars the planet seemed serene and inviting.
The transport streaked ever nearer and the red orb grew larger by the hour, but the Gyrfalcon was still two weeks away from rendezvous.
“It’s something, isn’t it?” Spence recognized the voice and turned to meet his friend.
“That it is, Adjani. I know I’m supposed to be nonchalant about this sort of thing, but I can’t help staring at it—so strange, so alien.”
“I’ll tell you a secret: everyone else feels exactly as you do— even Packer. He lets on that he’s seen it all before and could not care less. But I’ve seen the look on his face when he thinks no one is watching. He’s as taken with it as anyone else.” Adjani spoke in his light, rippling voice, his black eyes glowing with the sight before them.
Spence tore himself away from the window and took Adjani by the arm. “Come on, let’s go get something to eat.”
They walked out of the gallery and along the cramped corridor aft to the galley. There were several groups huddled over steaming mugs at the long tables. A chronometer over the galley window at one end of the rectangular room read 1:25.
“Good,” said Spence. “We’ve got an hour of burn time left. We can still have some coffee and a bite to eat like regular human beings.”
Kalnikov accelerated the transport periodically during the voyage. During these times the thrust of the engines produced the effect of gravity for the passengers and crew. Then the galley filled with people who were tired of sucking their meals out of vacuum bags and sipping their drinks through tubes in zero gravity.
They filed past the galley window and picked up mugs of coffee, sandwiches, and thick squares of crumbly brownies. They settled themselves at one of the tables and wolfed down the sandwiches.
“You’re looking much better, Spence.”
“I’m feeling much better. I guess I’m an astronaut at heart— this trip agrees with me.”
Spence and Adjani had become close friends in the long days of the trip. They had spent endless hours talking over Adjani’s magnetic chessboard until Spence felt he could trust the slim Indian with his life. He had been thinking of revealing his secret to him for several days, and had decided to risk it the moment they sat down to eat. Adjani sensed this and provided the opportunity. He watched his friend quietly, waiting patiently for what Spence would say.
“I guess you already know that I was under some kind of pressure back there.” He jerked his head to indicate Gotham.
“I sensed as much, yes.”
“You read my mind that first time I came to see you. It scared me a little. I’m glad we’ve had some time to get to know each other here, because I want to tell you about it.”
Adjani said nothing, but leaned forward a fraction and inclined his head in a listening attitude.
“I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a raving madman. But trust me, Adjani, and hear me out.” Spence took a deep breath and launched into his story from the beginning right up to the moment he boarded the transport in secret. Adjani sat still as a stone—only his eyes showed that spark which indicated that he attended every word.
“… I couldn’t tell you before. I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me.” Spence sipped his chilled coffee and watched his listener for a reaction.
“What you have told me disturbs me greatly, my friend. I wish that you had told me sooner—perhaps that afternoon in my quarters. This is a very dangerous game that you have become involved in.”
Spence viewed Adjani’s grave features with alarm. He had not expected the reaction he was receiving. “Surely you don’t think …”
“If it were just a matter of what I think, you would be right to tell me to mind my own business. But what I have to say to you is not conjecture. I have seen it with my own eyes.”
He clasped his hands in front of him and his sight turned inward as he lost himself to his tale.
“When I left school to return to my own country you can imagine how excited I was. I had heard my father talk about the mountains of India and the quaint villages perched on the sides of hills and on the edges of chasms. I was eager to see the land of my fathers, to walk where they had walked.
“But I was naive, my friend, dreaming of idyllic golden lands. I went to the mountains of Nagaland and I walked through villages that have not changed in a thousand years. But instead of quaint and happy peasants I saw people suffering unspeakably, people trapped by something so terrible it twists their minds and hearts. Do you know what it is?—fear. A fear so great that it drives them to take their own lives in despair. They die by the scores every year, throwing themselves, screaming, off the mountains to crush out their lives on the rocks below and so stop the terror. Many more hundreds collapse under the strain. Their minds snap and they become little more than automatons.”
“But what are they afraid of?”
“They have a name for it: Supno Kaa Chor. Translated it means Dream Thief.”
“Picturesque.”
“It is no joke. These people believe that there is a god—the Dream Thief—who creeps from house to house in the night and steals the dreams of men while they sleep. He replaces their dreams with his own, and thereby sows the seeds of madness. They say he lives in a mountain place in the Himalayas where he keeps his stolen dreams locked in a great ruby which is guarded by six black demons from the underworld.
“It is said that when a person has no more dreams left in him the Dream Thief sends him into the night to take his own life.”
“You don’t believe that nonsense, surely.”
“I believe there is something behind it, yes. It is real; I have seen its effects. I have seen the mindless wander the hills, screaming in terror in broad daylight. I have seen the broken bodies collected from the dry streambeds below the cliffs in the morning after the Dream Thief has passed through.
“Whatever it is, it is real.”
“But you can’t think that I—that I have anything at all in common with a bunch of frightened hillfolk.”
Adjani eyed him strangely. “I am a connection man, remember? I make a living providing connections between seemingly unrelated facts and information; it is my job to suggest what does not readily occur to others. I am telling you what I believe is possible. It is up to you to discover whether there is something to be gained by examining what I have told you.”
Spence stared at Adjani’s grim expression. He was inclined to doubt the connection his friend had suggested; but for the obvious foreboding Adjani seemed to feel, he would have dismissed it outright.
“What do you think I should do?” he asked.
“We must work out a plan of action and a way to keep you safe until we can get back to Gotham to investigate.”
“But I am in no danger here.” Spence dismissed the notion with a sweep of his hand.
“You are in great danger, my friend. You yourself have felt it or you would not have come on this trip as you did. You know there is truth to what I say.”
A buzzer sounded, signaling the end of burn-time gravity in five minutes, and everyone in the dining room rose and took their utensils and dishes back to the galley window. Spence slurped up the last of his coffee and stood. He hesitated, looking down at Adjani’s upturned face and the concern written there.
“All right. I’ll do what you say. Where do we start?”
HOCKING GLARED AT HIS henchmen; his eyes, red-rimmed from lack of sleep, burned out from his sockets like hot coals. His voice shook with anger and frustration.
“Three weeks he’s been gone! Not a trace of him! Not a sign! And we have learned nothing from that slip of a girl. Mr. Mi
llen, have you received an answer to that tracer you put on the package she sent?”
“It came in only an hour ago.”
“Well, what is it? I’m waiting.”
“The package was sent to Dr. Reston’s home—rather, his father’s home. It contained only the model and a birthday card. Nothing else.”
“Hmm—that is interesting.” The egg-chair spun around slowly in midair as Hocking pondered the meaning of this latest shred of information. Neither of the others spoke; they did not dare break in on their leader’s thoughts. They had endured Hocking’s fits every waking hour for three long weeks, and they feared for their lives. But suddenly Hocking spun around to face them and his deathly countenance lit with a wicked glee.
“Gentlemen!” he announced. “Our slippery water rat, Dr. Reston, has jumped ship. He has tricked us!”
Tickler shook his head. “How could he? We have watched every shuttle and checked every manifest—he never left the station. There is no other way out.”
“There is one other way, you fools! The transport!” Hocking grimaced and his eyes blazed. “He’s on that transport to Mars!”
“He was not listed on the manifest, I tell you. I checked it a dozen times. Not even under an assumed name.”
“How we have underestimated our friend, gentlemen. Of course he is on that ship. He arranged to have himself put aboard outside normal channels—probably that bubbleheaded girl acted for him. She is Zanderson’s daughter after all. There is one quick way to find out: I’m going to pay a little visit to Zanderson himself.”
Tickler frowned doubtfully. “Do you think you should?”
“Do I not? It is time he remembered who his keepers were. Yes, I’ll go and remind him myself. And I’ll find out whether Reston is on that ship—as I’m sure he is.”
Hocking stopped and leered at his associates. “Then we shall plan a little surprise for Spencer … to celebrate a successful journey. When he lands on Mars we’ll be ready for him.”
22
SPENCE BOARDED THE LANDING pod with Packer and a half-dozen of his third-year men. He swung weightless into one of the seats lining the bulkhead and strapped himself in, pulling the safety webbing over him and fastening it tightly all around. He stared down at the magnificent red-gold sphere of Mars filling the port below him—so large had it grown in the last few days that no more than a slice of its curve could be seen.
Dream Thief Page 14
