Children of the White Star

by Linda Thackeray

  A short time later, he found himself being shown into the General's office.

  “Garryn, this is an unexpected surprise,” Edwen declared when Garryn walked into the room.

  Garryn could only guess what suspicions were running through the man's mind at this visit. Neither man ever hid how he felt about the other's politics and, while Garryn respected Edwen, he did not support him.

  “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, General. I didn't mean to disrupt your day,” Garryn said politely as Edwen gestured him to sit on one of the comfortable leather seats reserved for visitors to the office.

  “Nonsense,” Edwen dismissed the apology with a wave of his hand. “What can I do for you, Prime?”

  “Edwen, I know we don't always share the same opinion, but I respect your service to Brysdyn and your abilities to get to the root of a problem.” Garryn decided honesty was the best way to start with this man.

  “To the point as always,” Edwen commented, respecting the effort. “I thank you for your honesty and your compliments. Now, how can I help you?”

  Now that the air was cleared, Garryn decided to get down to business. Edwen was watching him closely and Garryn remembered that, despite his age, this was a man not to be trifled with. “I have a favour to ask of someone who is far wiser in the ways of the Empire than I am.”

  This day was a veritable fountain of surprises, Edwen thought silently to himself. A favour from the next Prime was nothing to take lightly and he knew how difficult it was for Garryn to ask for his help.

  “I will do what I can. What do you need?”

  “I believe a friend of mine is in danger. In the last month, he has lost a close personal aide to an accident and he himself was almost murdered in the same manner today.”

  “Really?” Edwen leaned forward in interest. “What were the circumstances of the death?”

  “A traffic accident, immediately following an inquiry about New Citizens.”

  “I see. And an attempt was made on his life, you say?”

  “Only a few hours ago,” Garryn continued, oblivious to Edwen's inner turmoil. “He was almost run over by a civil servant at the Department of Citizenship. Her name was Officer Trayla.”

  “Did they manage to apprehend her?” Edwen already knew the answer. If Trayla was in the custody of the Central Police, then he would have been informed long before Garryn's unceremonious visit.

  “They didn't need to. She was killed when her skimmer collided with another, but you see the problem.”

  “Yes I do,” Edwen nodded with all the sincerity he could muster. “You were right to come to me about this, Garryn. Please tell me everything you know about this situation and I'll do whatever I can to assist.”

  * * *

  Major Danten was summoned to the General's office immediately after Garryn departed the Enclave. When he entered the room, Danten saw Edwen at his desk, wearing an expression of stone. The major had never seen the General with such a grim disposition. Danten knew something was dreadfully wrong to affect Edwen this way. Edwen made people fear him. He did not feel it himself.

  “You sent for me, Sir,” Danten said gingerly, still standing close to the door. He was too uncertain to approach any closer. Edwen said nothing, but kept staring at the window with that mask of granite.

  “The situation is getting out of hand,” Edwen stated suddenly.

  “What situation?”

  Edwen took a deep breath, dispelling the mood like a cloak. When he swung around in his chair to face Danten, the fear was gone. Instantly, like a gathering thunderstorm, Edwen's mood became dark and icy. Danten was familiar with the look. The General was readying for battle, in whatever shape or form the threat was choosing to take. Suddenly, Danten wanted to know why the Prime had come to the Enclave.

  “Garryn is involved in this affair with the mentalist,” Edwen replied, devoid of expression.

  “How?”

  “He claims to be a friend. I think patient would be a more accurate description of their relationship.”

  “The Prime requires a mentalist's treatment?”

  “That is not important,” Edwen said abruptly. “What is important is Agent 342 tried to murder the man this morning.”

  That news came as an utter shock to Danten. He'd been responsible for Agent 342's orders since this whole affair resurfaced. Even as Edwen spoke, Danten remembered his instructions to her. Under no circumstances was Jonen himself to be harmed. Not until they knew the nature of the threat he posed.

  “Did she succeed?” Danten spoke, almost frightened to ask.

  “No, she did not!” Edwen bellowed. “If she were not already dead I would order her terminated for such stupidity! Not only did she get herself killed, but she allowed the mentalist to live! Now he has applied to Garryn for help regarding the information denied to him!”

  The magnitude of Edwen's words made Danten weak at the knees. From the onset of this situation, both men had been confident of dealing with the problem. But the inclusion of Garryn into these affairs changed everything. How could they hide anything from the future Imperator of the Empire?

  “What do we do, Sir?”

  “The mentalist has to die. There is nothing else for it. I will think of a way to accomplish this, but understand the gravity of the situation. This office cannot be suspect for any reason. Garryn dislikes Security Elite; he always has. His mother taught him well. I have no doubts that, when he is Imperator, he will dismantle the Enclave, brick by brick.”

  “But he'll come looking for the information. Even if the mentalist dies, he's already aware of the conspiracy.”

  “Fortunately,” the General replied rising to his feet, “he came to me for assistance, a coup in itself. It suggests that, despite his feelings, he knows I am the man to trust in matters like these. That gives us time to prepare. If we do this right, not only will we close the book on this ugly affair, but we will have the gratitude of our Prime.”

  Danten nodded, but he was no longer feeling confident about anything.

  X

  Dreamers

  The following day, Garryn found himself at Jonen's home.

  As he guided the Skimmer through the front gates, he noticed the presence of the Security Elite guards Edwen had posted for Jonen's protection. The two sentries with their stony eyes and black uniforms assuaged Garryn's worries about the mentalist's safety. Offering him a brief salute as he passed them, Garryn gave them a nod of acknowledgement before entering the grounds of the modest home.

  Compared to the grandeur of the aristocratic estates he'd visited since his return home, Jonen's residence was unimpressive. Still, what it lacked in prestige, it made up in warmth. The gardens were cared for by someone who took great pride in the work. Garryn ventured a guess that many of the shrubs and flowerbeds were likely planted by Jonen's own hand.

  The house was of a comfortable size, constructed with polished stone, stained white with deep, red, ceramic slats tiling the roof. When he'd been in the service, Garryn had visited friends with homes like this. It was probably why he was so unmoved by the palatial splendour of the aristocrats' mansions. Mansions were there to impress and to promote some false sense of importance. They weren't homes like this one was.

  Today was an important day for him even if Garryn was trying his hardest not to become carried away by his expectations. After telling him about a conspiracy the day before, Jonen had arranged a meeting at his home with all his Dreamer patients. The prospect of meeting others who shared his condition excited Garryn to no end. Finally, he didn't feel as if this insanity was his alone.

  Jonen emerged from the front door just as the skimmer came to a halt. Instead of wearing his formal work clothes, Jonen wore casual dark pants and a loose-fitting knitted shirt without buttons. Garryn, who still clung to his military wardrobe, in rebellion against Feroz and his courtiers, found this a refreshing change. Everyone he knew in the palace and Quorum wore the best fabrics in the latest fashions. It was good to se
e not everyone cared about appearances.

  “My house is honoured by your visit, Garryn,” Jonen greeted with a wide grin. “The others are already here and they are thrilled at the prospect of meeting you.”

  “Not too thrilled, I hope.” Garryn hoped his title wouldn't overshadow the meeting. “I'd like to speak to them as a member of the group, not as the Prime.”

  “I explained your wishes to them and they understand,” Jonen assured him as he led Garryn through the front door.

  The inside of Jonen's home was a place of large picture windows and green plants hanging from pivotal but unobtrusive corners of the house. It reminded Garryn of the cabin he was assigned during his service on a ship. It had felt so novel being able to decorate the thing himself because it was uniquely his own. Old books sat on polished wooden shelves with ornamental rugs on the carpeted floor. Jonen was very much an aficionado of ancient Brysdynian art, but none of the pieces in the place were authentic, simply good replicas.

  The foyer dropped into a large living room sitting lower than the rest of the house. The walls of this room were mostly glass and the large trees with overhanging tendrils, taking up much of the rear garden, pressed against it. Descending the steps, Garryn observed a group of about a dozen people lounging around in chairs, large cushions, or sitting on the floor crossed-legged. It almost seemed like an academy study group.

  “Garryn!” Kalistar stood up, waving from one of the cushions to greet him.

  Completely surprised by her presence, Garryn could only manage a stuttered response. “Kal, what are you doing here?”

  For a moment he almost didn't recognise her, because she looked nothing like the young woman wearing the lavish gown at the Myzyne ball. Instead, she was wearing a dark body suit and loose shirt, with her hair tied up in a comfortable ponytail.

  “Imagine my surprise when I learned you and Kalistar were acquainted, after I made my announcement earlier,” Jonen remarked, pleased to see the Prime relaxing at the sight of a familiar face.

  “You are a Dreamer too?” Garryn asked her.

  “Yes. It's the real reason I came home to Brysdyn. Father has no idea of course. If he did, he would never tell me. You know how he is.”

  Garryn did know. The older generation had little patience with mentalism as a science or an instrument of healing. To them, ailments of the mind were nothing more than a weakness in spirit. Seeing Kalistar put him at ease, especially when he was surrounded by so many new faces.

  “I'm glad you're here.”

  “Everyone, this is Garryn.” Jonen decided to stark making introductions and avoided any reference to Garryn's title because he knew the Prime would hate it.

  Garryn regarded the group and nodded at them in friendly greeting. Now he wished he had worn his street clothes instead of this formal uniform.

  They were studying him closely, trying to decide how much like them he truly was. He just hoped none of them had any preconceived notion of how a Prime was supposed to behave. With everything else he had to deal with over the next few hours, protocol was not something with which he wanted to grapple.

  “Please find yourself a place to sit, Garryn, and we shall begin.”

  Jonen waded through the bodies to take a central place where he could supervise the session. Even though the gathering was informal, it was necessary to mediate the discussions, because he wanted everyone to have the chance to speak.

  Kalistar gave Garryn an encouraging smile as she took his hand and led him to where she had been sitting on the floor. A tall, dusky-skinned man his age stood up to offer them his place on the sofa, introducing himself as Tam.

  “Thank you,” Garryn shook the man's hand, “but the floor will be fine.”

  Once seated, Jonen began the session by having everyone introduce themselves. Only two out of the fourteen Dreamers were unable to attend this particular session. Most of them had travelled from every corner of the Empire to be here, united by the strange dreams plaguing their nights.

  The session began with each member recounting their dreams as well as they could remember, with Jonen filling the gaps as revealed by the neural analyser. Garryn listened to the stories with rising horror. Some of the dreams were even more violent and disturbing than his own.

  Tam's story involved seeing people dying in the street of some alien city. They fell to the ground where they stood, succumbing to a deadly fog, undoubtedly responsible for wiping out the adults of Cathomira. Racial diversity was the norm in Brysdyn, but the city Tam remembered bore no such variance. Everyone looked like him. Garryn supposed it was possible the difference was enough to make the Cathomirans war with each other.

  Kalistar's dreams revealed a world of tall, white, mountains, magnificent in their appearance. She spoke of snow and how cool it felt against her skin. There were primitive vehicles moving across ice covered streets and tall coniferous trees of rich emerald colours, sprinkled with snow. This almost pristine setting dissolved into the same violence Garryn experienced.

  In her dreams, the white snow was soon splattered with red and soiled to a grey slush. Trickles of water hung tremulously from the tips of frozen icicles to become drops of blood. Terrible birds soared through the air, appearing dark and menacing, raining death on those around her. A man fell down dead in front of her. His blood pooled into a crimson crown around his head. She couldn't explain why his death woke her up screaming.

  Another man, a medician from Kaltor Valley called Holaran, described a wall.

  It was wall running from one end of the world to the other. It moved like a snake through mountains and rivers, keeping barbarians away. Holaran had no idea why he thought this, only knowing with every fibre of his being it was the truth. Like Tam, Holaran was of a different racial type, with deep yellow skin, dark eyes and a leaner build. In his dreams, he saw his people dying too, running along the wall as the same demon birds lay waste to his world.

  Oren, a Central Police officer, revealed a dream of being chased through the tall grass of some unknown place. He never ran alone. There was always someone with him. She was about eight years old and had the same red hair he did. Despite the fear in her eyes, he recognised them as his own.

  He is never able to speak to her to ask what they are running from. All he knows is she does not abandon him, even when the footsteps crushing the grass behind them grow louder. When the dark birds descend, he is ripped away from her, spirited into the sky. She screams after him, her hands flaying wildly as she tries to reach him, but she never does. He wakes up when he can no longer hear her.

  It went on for most of the day, each one of them recounting their nightmares. As Garryn listened, the emotion welled inside of him, each story affecting him as deeply as his own affected them. After today, there would be no doubt in his mind that something terrible took place on Cathomira and that he was a part of it. Did the adults of Cathomira know what they were doing? Had they known, when they created their weapons of death, how it was going to end for all of them?

  The last to speak was a young woman called Nikela. She was younger than all the others and, when it was her turn, it was Jonen who made the introduction first.

  “Nikela's dreams are even more difficult to interpret than yours. When she came to me, I put her through the analyser like I did for all of you. Except her dreams were so abstract the analyser was unable to rebuild them.”

  Garryn observed Nikela closely and realised she could not be any more than twenty-three years old. He was twenty-six now, but he had come to Brysdyn when he was three years old. How old was Nikela when she arrived?

  As if in response to Garryn's unspoken question, Jonen continued, “Nikela is also the youngest Dreamer we've encountered. She was less than a month old when she arrived on Brysdyn. She would have been born within days of the Cathomirans' cry for assistance. As a result of being unable to use the analyser, I attempted regression therapy, with better success.”

  Garryn could well believe Nikela was the youngest among them. Her sk
in was white, almost like a newborn child. Her brown hair was a glaring contrast to her skin. Except for a tinge of pink, her lips were devoid of colour. She was a willowy young woman who looked like some mythical sprite best left in an enchanted forest somewhere.

  Nikela recounted her dreams to them when Jonen was finally done.

  She dreamed of darkness, but this did not inspire fear; rather, it inspired comfort. She floated as if wrapped in a blanket of night, all safe and warm. There was neither hunger nor pain, just a sensation of lazy contentment. In the background, a muffled drumbeat continued to sound, rhythmic and oddly soothing.

  The peace did not last and soon the drumbeat was eclipsed by the sharp sound of screaming. The shrill, disturbingly close cry of agony shook her entire universe, disrupting the soothing beats in the background. They hastened, gaining in momentum until they became harsh thunderclaps against her ears. Two distinct sounds clashed against each other, culminating in her world being ripped apart by a flood of light.

  She felt the warmth of the liquid spill out in thick, viscous splashes. The light stabbed through the black, piercing her eyes, tearing through her consciousness. Her world was devoid of colour, with vague shapes hovering over her. The screaming became the shrieks of a world dying around her. Touching her face, her fingers slid over the slick of blood smeared across her skin.

  The dark birds descended, carrying her away from the corpse with the split open belly.

  Nikela was sobbing by the time her story was done. It was heartbreaking to see her tears, because she seemed so fragile. Kalistar gathered the young woman in her arms and held her as she broke down and Garryn wondered if the others drew the same conclusion as he did about Nikela's dream.

  What in the name of the Creator had happened on Cathomira? Had someone actually slit her mother open like a ripe fruit and stolen her away? Garryn prayed this was a too vivid memory of Nikela's birth through a surgical removal. It was not unheard of for an expectant mother to need help during delivery. Surely this is what Nikela dreamed?