Dream thief

by Stephen R. Lawhead

  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 hillfollk."

  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. Millen, have you received an answer to that tracer you put on the pack age 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 bubble-headed 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.

  The pod was strangely silent; the cadets, ordinarily brimming with dash and bravado, seemed veiled in their own thoughts. Every face wore a look of rapt wonder. Spence suspected that he himself appeared as goggle-eyed as the rest of them.

  Olmstead Packer swam into the center of the pod and called his group to attention. "Hear ye, hear ye!" he said, wheeling slowly through the air. "We will wait until everyone is suited up before popping the hatch. I want to check each suit myself before you step out on the surface. I've got a yellow sticker to put on each helmet that lets me know I've checked you out. Anyone who fails to get his suit checked won't get another chance to play outside. Understood?"

  The shaggy red head turned to regard Spence and Adjani as well. "That goes for you, too, gentlemen. Same as for all first – timers."

  Just then a rattling shudder passed through the pod followed by a low-pitched vibration which built to a muffled roar and died away almost before it began.

  "That'll be one of the other pods going down now," said Packer as he dived for his seat. "Happy landing, gentlemen!"

  All braced themselves for the blast that would send them streaking toward the surface of the Red Planet. They heard the thrum of the engine and then a whoosh as if gale force winds had passed over them. In the same instant they felt themselves pressed gently back into the jumpseat cushions as the illusion of weight returned.

  To Spence it seemed as if they fell like a rock dropped from a mountain peak. The burnt orange of the Martian landscape spun crazily as the pod descended, looming larger and eve,, larger in the port until individual landmarks could be discerned They fell alarmingly close to the surface, considered Spence* before he remembered that Mars' atmosphere was very thin an did not extend far out into space. Still, it seemed as if they would smash down upon the red rocks rushing up at them. At the last minute the pod turned itself around and the engines sent forth a staccato burst to slow their descent.

  The next thing he felt was a slight bouncing jolt-as if he were aboard an old-fashioned elevator which had reached its floor. He half expected a chime to sound and the doors to open. Instead, the pod erupted with the cheers of the cadets who threw off their webbing straps and jumped to their feet to clap one another on the back in the jubilation of all travelers who arrive safely at their destination.

  From the racks behind each seat they took down the elasticized surface suits and began wriggling into them. The suits designed for Mars were simple, tight-fitting polymerized one – piece elastic suits much like ocean divers wore. All the necessary pressure was supplied by the girdling effect of the elastic. A mushroom-shaped helmet attached to a wide neck seal on the suit completed the ensemble. The helmet had a hemispherical visor which allowed full vision in every direction. At the back of the helmet, a built-in canister held oxygen pellets for extended rambling on the surface of the planet.

  When all helmets were in place, the hatch was popped and each explorer filed past Packer who stood at the portal and affixed his yellow triangular stickers to each helmet as he checked each suit. Spence stood last in line behind Adjani and, after the once over by Packer, stepped out into the rust-colored world.

  He bobbed down the steps of the hatch and walked a few paces in the red dirt that powdered beneath his feet. His motions were exaggerated and springy-an effect of the reduced gravity of Mars. He grinned from ear to ear with the exhilaration of just being there, a human being treading on alien soil. He felt strong, invincible-also an effect of reduced gravity.

  He scanned the horizon of the planet and was surprised to find how close it was and how sharp the curve. He turned to scan the points of the compass. Everywhere he turned the same dull red, brick-colored dirt met his gaze, as if he were lost in a mono chromatic desert. Rocks of various sizes poked through the red soil; some of these were a shade or two lighter or darker than the dirt around them, providing the only contrast he could see.

  At the horizon the sky burned a brilliant blue, as if infused with fire. The blue gradually darkened to jet black directly overhead. Spence soon found that this changed dramatically depending upon the time of day. At high noon the sky was pink. At sunset it glowed with golden warmth at the horizon while stars shone hard and bright above like gems spilled out upon a cloth of blackest velvet.

  Low in the sky one of Mars' tiny twin moons hovered above the faraway mountain range. At least Spence took it to be faraway. Without a heavy atmosphere to distort images and clothe them in misty shrouds, objects and landforms on Mars appeared hard-edged and distinct whether close at hand or faraway.

  Across a stretch of the arid soil he viewed a loose assemblage of buildings huddled, dome-shaped like a cluster of toadstools – the terraforming installation, one of five on the planet-but whether it stood two kilometers or ten distant, he could not tell.

  He heard a buzzing in the air and turned to find its source. He was surprised to see Packer standing atop the hatchway with his helmet in his hands shouting at them as his face grew bright red.

  "Take off your helmets!" he called. Through the helmet's insulation the words sounded as if he were shouting at them from one end of a very long hose.

  Tentatively Spence grasped the sides of his helmet and gave it a sideways twist. He heard the pressure hiss away and felt his ears pop as if he had suddenly leaped to a high altitude.

  He took a breath and found that he could not stop inhaling.

  "It's all right," Packer said a little breathlessly. "Just breathe easy. Don't overdo it. Relax and let your body adjust to it."

  There were oohs and ahhs all around as the cadets experienced this wonder of breathing the thin Martian air.

  "I wanted you to see that you can breathe without a helmet if necessary. The atmosphere is still mostly carbon dioxide – that's why your lungs feel as if they can't get enough. But we have been able to enrich the atmosphere by a few percentage points. There is enough oxygen to support life for short periods of time if you do not tax it. You could not run or even walk quickly before you passed out. But you will not die of suffocation, either, if you don't exert yourself.

  "Your more immediate danger is the temperature. I'm sure you are all aware that during the day the temperature this time of year is a uniform 25 degrees celsius. As the sun goes down the temperature plunges to minus 105. Your suits offer some protection from the violent swing in temperature, but they are not designed to be used during the chill of a Martian night."

  Packer raised his helmet over his head. "All right, put your helmets back on and let's track it to the installation." He pointed toward the cluster of buildings.

  Spence raised his helmet and paused to breathe once more the incredibly dry, thin air, tasting its metallic tang on his tongue. He closed his eyes and drew it deep into this lungs where it burned with tingling fire. It seemed almost as if he were standing on a mountaintop – the effect was the same.

  "Remarkably like the Himalayas," said a voice beside him.

  He opened his eyes and grinned at Adjani standing at his elbow. "I was thinking of the Rockies, myself. I'
ve never been to the Himalayas."

  They replaced their helmets and Spence tasted the sweet oxygen as he breathed it in. He adjusted the voice amplifier so that he could speak to Adjani-Adjani did the same-and they trudged off behind the bouncing column of cadets with Packer in the lead.

  The terraforming project was in its fifth year on Mars. At the present stage it took the form of enormous greenhouses filled with broad-leaf plants genetically engineered to be virtual oxygen factories. The greenhouses pumped in the carbon dioxide of Mars and flushed out the oxygen waste of the plants. Beneath the greenhouses, nuclear reactors maintained optimum temperatures, heating the plants through long, impossibly cold nights.

  The greenhouses were established and working according to plan. This trip inaugurated phase two of the project: melting the enormous polar ice cap of the planet.

  There was water on Mars; the first Voyager probes had discovered that. But it was mostly locked up with the carbon-dioxide ice at the poles. Although some minute part existed as water vapor, it was not enough to sustain plant life. By melting the polar ice, it was hoped that enough water vapor might be released to allow the planet to begin rebuilding an earth-type atmosphere. As the amount of oxygen and water vapor in the atmosphere grew, the temperature would stabilize and the mineral-rich soil though dry as desert sand-would perhaps support some varieties of plant life, and later animals and eventually man.

  Terraforming was a bold idea that seemed bound to work, given enough time. Packer planned an expedition to the poles to view various sites where nuclear devices might be planted to melt the dry ice. He was anxious that terraforming of Mars be complete within his lifetime. "I want to see my grandchildren romping over the lush, green landscape of Mars," he told his cadets. He was far more taken with this project than with the plasma drive. Still, the first colonies were decades away.

  Little red clouds of dust rose from the tramping feet of the cadets as they moved along the trail. By the time they reached the installation, an octopus arrangement of buildings with the central barracks surrounded by the long rows of greenhouses radiating out from the center like arms, everyone was covered with the fine rusty grit. They moved along the translucent shells of the greenhouses and Spence could see flashes of green from within, completely out of keeping with the dullness of their surroundings.