Offspring

by Steven Harper

  I came here to get something.

  Kendi took a moment to orient himself. This was the entryway, which meant the living room was over that way and Ben’s office was over there. Ara used to use that room for meditation and entering the Dream.

  Moving as if he himself were in a dream, Kendi crunched over creaking, screeching floorboards. Part of the office wall had collapsed and burned, but Kendi easily found a particular spot on the floor and knelt there. Clumsily, he pulled aside a concealed section of flooring to reveal a safe hidden beneath.

  Closure, maybe. I don’t know.

  Kendi stared at the locked safe. A little over a year ago—and how long ago that seemed—Empress Kan maja Kalii of the Independence Confederation had given Mother Adept Araceil Rymar an order: determine if Sejal were a threat to the millions of lives that made up the Confederation. If, in Ara’s judgment, Sejal posed a danger, Ara was to kill him.

  Kendi had never learned what decision Ara had come to. Padric Sufur had spirited Sejal away, and then the Despair had struck, and Ara had leaped from a balcony. Sometimes, though, Kendi was sure that Ara had decided to kill Sejal, and the feelings of guilt that followed this decision—unfulfilled or not—had worsened the Despair for her, causing her to commit suicide. At other times, Kendi was positive Ara would never have tried to take an innocent life, that she had simply fallen victim to the Despair on her own, as so many other Silent had done. He would never know for sure.

  A little gust of wind stirred the talltree leaves, and one or two drifted down to land beside Kendi. The safe had been Ara’s, then Ben’s, then Ben and Kendi’s, and it appeared to have remained untouched by the explosion. In all the fuss and bother, he had completely forgotten about it and the weapons it contained—a needler and a neuro-pistol. He pressed his thumb to the plate, let it scan his retina, and recited a password for voice recognition. The door popped open and Kendi looked inside.

  The safe contained a needler and a box of ammunition. The neuro-pistol was gone.

  Kendi’s chest filled with ice. Slowly, carefully he closed the safe and stood on shaky legs. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. Ben didn’t—Ben couldn’t—

  A tiny sound caught his attention. He spun. Ben was standing a few paces away. The spring breeze tousled his red hair and brought the smell of charred wood. Kendi didn’t move. Ben stared at Kendi with hard blue eyes, then turned and walked away, leaving Kendi standing in the wreck that had been their home.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “It’s hard to fight in silence.”

  —Irfan Qasad

  “Where the hell have you been?” Tan demanded as Kendi entered Salman’s living room. “I’ve got ten people out looking for you.”

  “Where’s Ben?” Kendi interrupted. “Did he come back yet?”

  “He went upstairs before we could finish bawling him out, love,” Salman said from her place on the couch. “I’ve been talking to Ched-Theree, and we have the military—what’s left of it—sweeping the system for that ship, but it’s like finding a single leaf on an entire talltree.”

  “We’ve got barely two hours before that signal has to go out,” Tan growled, “and you and Ben decide to disappear for—”

  But Kendi was already heading up the stairs. The door to his and Ben’s room was closed. Kendi stood outside for a long moment, then firmed his jaw and entered.

  Ben sat in a chair by the window, caught in fading amber sunlight. Both Ara and Evan lay asleep in the exact center of the bed. The windows were all shut and the room felt stuffy. Kendi quietly shut the door.

  “Let me tell you what you were thinking,” Ben said without looking at him. “You were thinking about how much I hate Sufur and how you found me in the ruins of the house not long before he was murdered. You were thinking that since I set up the cameras around Sufur’s house, I could easily take them off-line. You were thinking that I slipped out during Grandma’s party, broke into Sufur’s house, and killed him with Mom’s neuro-pistol. Or maybe I just killed him when I went to his house with Lucia. That would be why I told her to wait outside. You were thinking I’m one of the few people whose hands don’t shake after firing a neuro-pistol set to kill.” He finally turned and faced Kendi. “You were thinking I broke my promise and that I killed a slimy, disgusting creature who deserved to die.”

  “Ben, I’m sorry,” Kendi said. “I’m so sorry. But I had to know if the pistol was still there, and—”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Ben’s face set into a mask of stone and he walked out of the room. Kendi stood there, filled with wretched uncertainty. “ll the clues pointed in Ben’s direction, but Kendi didn’t want to believe that Ben would break a promise and lie to him. He caught up with Ben in their room and grabbed Ben's hand.

  “Tell me you didn’t kill Sufur and I’ll believe you,” he said.

  “So you have to ask,” Ben said.

  “Ben—”

  “I. Didn’t. Kill. Him. Is that enough?”

  Kendi nodded. “I believe you.”

  “Fine.” But it clearly wasn’t.

  Long pause. “They still have Gretchen and all those other people,” Kendi said. “We need to find that satellite and that ship.”

  “Yeah?” The hostility in Ben’s voice remained. “How the hell are we going to do that?”

  And Kendi lost it. “ll the weeks and months of being careful around Ben, of holding his tongue for fear of making Ben shut down, of being so careful and patient and understanding every moment—all of it smashed out into the open and rushed at Ben.

  “You know what, Ben?” he snarled. “I’m really sick of this. I’m sick of the way you pick fights without picking fights, I’m sick of walking on eggshells around you, and I’m goddammed sick of solving all the problems around here.” His voice rose and he made no attempt to hold it down. “Who got our kids back? Me. Who figured out it who was trying to kill us? Me. Who caught on to Petrie’s plot? Me. Who negotiated the game contract? Me. So who has to find Gretchen before Sufur’s lackeys vacuum-dry her corpse? Apparently me. No one seems to have a fucking clue about what to do, but that’s okay—good old Kendi will pull a trick out of his ass, don’t you worry. Hell, no one even has to say thank you.” Kendi was shouting now, his face contorted. “I’m sick of playing hero and I’m sick of playing the detective and I’m sick of the people who are supposed to be helping me always needing me to help them. For months I’ve been watching what I say and what I do around you, and you still get pissed at me. So maybe I should stop watching what I say. Or maybe I should just—just—”

  And there he stopped. Some things shouldn’t be said, even in the middle of white-hot anger. Ben’s face had turned to stone. Every muscle in his neck and jaw stood outlined in stark, pale flesh. Kendi spun around, gulping in great breaths and trying to regain control. He heard Evan crying in the nursery up the hall, but for once he ignored the sound. Harenn or Lucia could handle it.

  After several moments, Kendi’s heart slowed and he no longer felt like he was going to explode. Behind him, Ben hadn’t said a word. Kendi turned around. He hadn’t stirred from the chair. Of course he hadn’t. Kendi fought the urge to grind his teeth.

  “Gretchen,” he said finally. “We have to find Gretchen. And I do have an idea.”

  Ben’s only response was to relax his jaw. Kendi sat on the bed a fair distance away from him. “You said you called up both the logarithmic code and the coordinates for the ship and the satellite on Sufur’s computer, right?”

  “Right,” Ben said shortly.

  “That means you at least saw them, and that means the information is still somewhere in your head. “ll we have to do is find it.”

  “And how will we do that?”

  The tension between them was so thick, it was almost visible, like a dirty fog hanging in the air. Kendi plunged on.

  “You’re not a Child of Irfan, so you didn’t get the full mnemonic training at the monastery, but you’ve had the basics,” he said. “Enough to do inde
pendent contract work. Your short-term recall is good enough to let you run letters and basic documents to other planets, but you’re not certified to handle complex stuff like bank transfers and computer codes.”

  “Where is this going, Kendi?” Ben said impatiently. “I know what my limitations in the Dream are.”

  “The point is that we have a basis for getting those codes back,” Kendi said. “For most Silent, including me, the information we transmit through the Dream fades within a day. We read it in the solid world, hit the Dream, relay it to another Silent, and forget it. If you were a fully-trained Child, you could simply recite what you saw on the screen because your short-term memory wouldn’t have let go yet. But you aren’t fully trained.”

  “Meaning the information is gone.”

  “Meaning we just have to dig for it. In the Dream.”

  “It won’t work.”

  “We have to try, Ben. Unless you have a better idea.”

  Ben shot him a hard look, then shrugged. “All right. We can try. Meet me on my turf.” He produced a dermospray from the dresser and all but flung himself down on the bed. Kendi retrieved his spear and his own dermospray. Ben injected himself and shut his eyes without giving Kendi another glance. Kendi’s temper rose again and he found it hard to relax, even with the drug’s help. He lost track of time, and it was quite a while before he found himself gliding on falcon wings through hot desert air. Far below lay the Outback. Kendi caught an updraft and cast out his mind. It took only three seconds to find Ben, and one second to sense the anger in his mind. Kendi’s own temper rose in response. A dust devil whirled into existence beneath him, and Kendi beat his wings quickly to avoid it. Stupid. Thought became reality in the Dream, and unfocused anger took...unhealthy forms.

  Outback sand butted up against a hard tile floor. Kendi glided along the boundary and reached out to Ben’s mind. ~May I approach?~

  ~You may.~ Ben’s mental voice was flat.

  Kendi crossed the border and swooped downward. A ceiling faded into existence over him and he reflexively dropped lower still. Ben stood in the center of an enormous room filled with electronic equipment. Organic data processing units wound up toward the ceiling, twisting in green-blue spirals. Data scrolled across holographic displays arranged neatly on shiny steel counters. Magnetic fields pulsed, lights flashed, metal gleamed. Transmission lines and data portals gaped in all directions, transmitting and receiving data at impossible speeds. Kendi dropped to the floor next to him and took the shape of a kangaroo.

  “Let’s get this started,” Ben said. “I checked the time and we have fifty-three minutes to transmit Sufur’s code.”

  “Right.” Kendi leaned back on his tail. “I decided to try this here in the Dream because you’re already in a trance when you’re here. We just need to push you a little deeper and you should be able to come up with what we need.”

  “Fine. What’s the first step?”

  “I’m new to this, too,” Kendi said, trying to keep his temper from rising again. Ben wasn’t being helpful. It was almost as if he wanted to fail. “I think you should try sitting down.”

  Ben raised a hand over the floor. The tiles softened and moved like warm clay, and a lounge chair rose out of them. It solidified with a noise like someone clenching a fistful of mud. Ben sat in the chair and it reclined back so he was looking up at the ceiling.

  “Close your eyes and relax,” Kendi instructed. “Breathe deep and even...deep and even...your legs are relaxed...very relaxed...your torso is—”

  “I don’t need a lesson in relaxation, Kendi,” Ben interrupted.

  “All right,” Kendi said through clenched teeth. “Why don’t you relax yourself and then raise a hand when you’re ready.”

  Ben didn’t answer. Kendi waited. The computer terminals around him flickered and flashed unintelligible code. The air was still and a little chilly, despite Kendi’s fur coat. He waited. His legs started to ache from lack of motion and he shifted position slightly. Ben’s eyes popped open.

  “How can I relax when you keep making all that noise?” he said.

  “Ben, I was only—”

  “Why don’t you turn into a...a blackfly or something? Then maybe I can—”

  The anger roared over Kendi again, and this time he gave in. He reached out with his mind and shoved. Ben’s turf vanished with a thunderclap, replaced by the featureless plain. Ben’s chair disappeared as well and Ben landed flat on his back. Kendi shoved again and the Outback exploded into being around them. Thunder rumbled in the distance and uncharacteristic clouds blackened the sky.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Ben shouted.

  “I’ve had it with you,” Kendi yelled back. The wind rose. “If you want a fight, you’ve got one!”

  A dust devil sprang out of the ground and rushed at Ben. Ben’s hand snapped up in a defensive gesture and a rocky wall shot upward in front of him. The dust devil dashed itself to pieces against the stones. Kendi stamped a powerful hind leg and the earth rumbled beneath him. Cracks sprouted and spread over the wall until it crumbled to rubble. Ben snatched at empty air, and a giant rocky hand formed out of the ground under Kendi’s feet. It grabbed for him. Kendi sprang into the air, but the hand caught his tail with a jerk that wrenched his spine. Kendi’s form blurred and he became a falcon. He left two tail feathers in the stony grasp behind him as he clawed for altitude. The hand grew an arm that grew upward right behind Kendi. He stole a glance behind him and saw the rocky fingers grasping for him. Kendi changed direction, fled sideways. The arm lengthened and hand followed him, leaving him no time to breathe or think. When had Ben learned this kind of control?

  Kendi dove back toward the ground. The hand followed, its arm making a U-shape behind him. Kendi pulled in his wings and increased the speed of his dive as he headed straight for Ben. Only then did Ben realize what was happening. Kendi pulled out of his dive and shot to the left in a maneuver that left his wing muscles sore. The hand crashed into the ground where Ben was standing. A cloud of dust rose, then cleared, revealing that the fingers had spread open, forming a five-barred cage that surrounded Ben instead of crushing him. Ben gestured and the hand crumbled to dust, but Kendi’s mind was already moving. The skies opened up, releasing a torrential rainstorm. Water gushed across the rocky ground, creating a flash flood. Kendi landed on a house-sized boulder, his feathers soaked through. The raging water rushed toward Ben. Ben snapped a motion at the ground, his red hair plastered to his skull. The earth around him rumbled open and dropped away, leaving Ben standing on an island in the middle of a great sinkhole. The flood waters rushed into the pit and swirled around Ben’s island, leaving him untouched. Then Ben raised a fist in a gesture Kendi recognized as one Ara used to make. He leaped away from the boulder just in time to avoid the lightning bolt that crashed into the rock behind him. Bits of hot stone stung him, and the thunderclap sent him tumbling forward, his wet falcon feathers unable to get a good hold on the air. Desperately he changed shape again, becoming a wood duck. Was Ben really trying to kill him? He didn’t believe it.

  Another lightning bolt blasted down from the sky, sizzling the air only a winglength away. Another crash of thunder boomed against Kendi’s bones, knocking him nearly senseless. He was falling. In a haze of semi-consciousness, he angled himself toward Ben’s island. With one final burst of strength, he crashed-landed on the stony ground at Ben’s feet.

  Now use the lightning, he thought, staring up at a giant-sized Ben.

  Ben hesitated, looking down at Kendi. Rain poured down around them and the water swirled angrily in the sinkhole. In a flash of inspiration, Kendi changed shape one more time. Abruptly Ben was standing over an enormous leathery crocodile. Ben started to react, but then there was a flash of movement from the crocodile and he froze. The scene remained a motionless tableau—man, rain, crocodile. The crocodile’s head was tilted upward, its jaws not quite closed.

  “You wouldn’t,” Ben said.

  “Guh wuh,” Kendi said.
>
  There was a pause. “What?” Ben said.

  “Guh. Wuh.”

  “Give up?” Ben made a choking sound Kendi couldn’t identify. “Didn’t...didn’t your mother ever tell you not to talk with your mouth full?”

  A laugh rose in Kendi’s belly and he snorted hard in an attempt to keep it in. If he laughed now Ben would lose his—

  The choking sound from Ben intensified. Kendi could feel him quivering at the end of his snout. Ben was laughing, too.

  “All right, you win,” he gasped. “Now let go of my...just let go.”

  Kendi released his hold. Still laughing, Ben stepped back and adjusted his trousers. There was a small tear just below the belt line.

  Kendi smacked his lips together. “Mmmmm. Tastes just like ch—”

  “Hey!” Ben interrupted, and then started laughing again. Kendi started to make another remark and ended up bursting into a laughter of his own. The noise mixed with the sounds of pouring rain and swirling brown water.

  “I can’t...can’t...” Ben gasped, and sat down hard as yet more laughter overtook him. Kendi’s form blurred and shifted until a koala bear lay giggling on the wet, slippery stone. The sight made Ben laugh all the harder. Kendi felt the tension that had been growing between them melt like ice in hot chocolate.

  “Can you...at least...shut off...the rain?” Ben asked between laughs.

  Kendi blew up at the sky. The rain stopped and the clouds whisked themselves away, revealing a perfect azure sky. A bright, golden sun shone over them, and the flood water drained away. Ben finally quieted. He scooted next to Kendi and put a hand on the damp brown fur covering his head.