Broken Dreams (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 5) (21 page)

“That looks like all kind of bad news,” Sam said. He brought his gaze down from the horizon to where Mara sat. Only her spot was empty.

She was now a few feet away, hunched over the edge of the path. Retching loudly, she vomited.

“Gross,” Sam said. “No point in getting that upset about it. We’ve seen worse than this.”

Ping sprang up, ran to her and placed an arm over her shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

Mara straightened, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and said, “I don’t know. I had this sudden and overwhelming urge to hurl.” Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. “I feel terrible all of a sudden.”

“Likely stress and anxiety getting to you,” Ping said. “We should get you back to the manor so you can rest.”

She rubbed her stomach and made a gagging sound. “I feel so nauseated, like I ate a bad batch of oysters or something.” The thought turned her stomach, and she swung around, retching into the shrubs again.

Ping glanced at Sam and said, “Find the chief and tell him we need to get Mara home as soon as possible.”

Sam pulled the receiver pad from his pocket and held it up. “I will send a message to Dad. Maybe he could pick us up here. That way he could take a look at her much sooner. And we’ll probably need a ride anyway since it’s a good bet the steam-peds got wiped out in the explosion.”

“Good idea,” Ping said.

Mara turned and steadied herself using Ping’s arm. “No, not a good idea. I don’t want to make a big scene.”

“
A big scene
?” Sam said. “Have you looked around lately? A big pile of steaming, smoking scrap metal is where a mill stood a few minutes ago. I don’t think anyone will pay attention to you puking in the bushes.”

He continued tapping on the pad, then looked up with a confused look. “How do I send the message?” he asked.

Mara groaned and doubled over again.

“Oh, there it is on the bottom of the screen.” He tapped the glass panel with a finger, and the pad released a tiny puff of steam into the air. It caught a wind current and drifted away. “Hope it finds one of those miders soon.”

“I’d still like you to check on the chief and the steam-peds. In case the message to your father is delayed, or he cannot get here,” Ping said.

Sam nodded and jogged down the path toward the remains of the mill.

Mara straightened and faced Ping. Her face was pale and her eyes glassy. He put a hand to her forehead, like a doting mother. “You don’t have a fever. Maybe it was something you ate?”

“All that’s coming up is toast and coffee. Breakfast,” she said.

Her eyes rolled up, and she slumped forward. Ping caught her around the waist, shifted her weight to his left arm, turning her so he could see her face. She was unconscious.

Mara awoke, looking up at an unfamiliar light fixture, a gold-framed square of glass etched with frosty curly flowers. The quality of light struck her as odd, more glowing gas than incandescent filament, until she realized where she was—the realm with the kerosteam lightbulbs. It came to her now. She was in her counterpart’s bed, with no memory of how she got here. Detecting movement by the dresser, she rolled over and saw Ping placing the Chronicle of Cosms on top of it.

When he turned around, he smiled and said, “Ah, you’re awake. I thought the Chronicle might be uncomfortable against your leg, so I removed it. I hope that was all right.”

Mara rubbed her eyes and squinted at him with a confused look.

“I’m the other Ping, not yours,” he said.

“What happened? How did I get here?” she asked.

“I’m told that you got sick and fainted shortly after the explosion at the mill. Dr. Lantern brought you back to the manor.”

“I was unconscious for the whole wagon ride back from town? That must have been at least two hours.”

“It’s been almost three since the doctor picked you up. Considering all you went through today, and, given your condition, I’m surprised you didn’t sleep through the rest of the day and through the night.”

“My condition? What’s wrong with me?” she asked.

Ping looked embarrassed, as if he’d been caught saying something inappropriate. “I—”

The door to the bedroom opened, and her father entered with a smile. “I thought I heard you two talking in here. How’s my girl feeling?” He sat on the edge of the bed.

Looking relieved, Ping pointed to the door and said, “I’ll leave you two alone.” He fast-walked from the room.

After frowning at his hasty exit, she turned to her father. He glowed—not literally—but beamed with pride or happiness or some elevated emotion. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

He took her hand and wrapped both of his around it. “I’m just so proud of what my daughter has accomplished. It’s a momentous achievement for all of us.”

“I assume you’re not talking about blowing up the mill.”

He laughed. “That was definitely momentous in its own peculiar way, but, no, that’s not what I meant. I just wish you—I mean, she, my Mara—had shared with me what she was doing. I suppose she didn’t want to get our hopes up.”

“My brain still must be scrambled by this so-called condition because I can’t follow a word you’re saying. It all sounds like nonsense,” she said.

“Condition?”

“Ping said something about my condition, then got all weird and ran from here without explaining. What’s going on, and why are you looking at me so goofy? You look like I invented penicillin or something.”

“Oh. He’s referring to your pregnancy.”

Mara froze. After a beat, she busted out laughing.

Her father smiled and said, “It’s true. I’m not sure how she accomplished it, but it appears to be true. I examined you while you were sleeping, and you
are
pregnant. My guess is you’re nearing the end of your first trimester.”

“That’s impos—” Mara slid her hand over her stomach, and she gasped. “Where did that come from?”

“I think maybe—”

Mara held up a hand. “Wait a minute. What did you mean,
you’re not sure how she accomplished it
? Don’t you people make babies like everyone else? What do you do? Incubate your young in other people’s bodies, like some kind of parasite or something? Because I haven’t done what needs to be done to make a baby where I come from.”

“If you would just let me explain.”

Mara slapped the mattress with her fist and yelled, “Ping!”

He opened the door and stuck his head inside, using the door as a shield.

“Not you! I want my Ping!” she screamed past him, projecting her voice into the hall. “Ping! Get in here!”

The other Ping closed the door, and she could hear his footsteps recede down the hall.

Red-faced, she turned on her father. “What the hell is going on? I can’t be pregnant.”

“If you can calm down for a moment, I’ll explain what I understand. I don’t know the details about how the pregnancy came about, but I believe Bruce has some information.”

“I bet he does,” Mara said. “How can he and your Mara hook up, but I end up carrying the baby? Is that what’s happening?”

“Not exactly.”

“What exactly?”

Ping rushed into the room, followed by his counterpart. “Are you okay? Mr. Ping says you are upset.”

“Why are you guys addressing each other as
mister
? Can’t you get on a first-name basis with yourself? You’re the one always lecturing me that we are our counterparts and they are us. Right?”

Ping stopped in the middle of the room before reaching the bed. “That’s what you are upset about?”

Mara rolled her eyes and fell back onto her pillows. “No. I’m pregnant, and I want someone to explain why.”

“May I make a suggestion?” Ping asked.

Mara glared at him. “Let me guess. Just shut my mouth and listen to the whole story before asking questions.”

“How did you know?”

“It’s what you always say when things get complicated.” She rolled her head to the side on the pillow, now looking at her father. “Go ahead. The tantrum has been suspended until I hear the rest of the story. After that, I’m not making any promises.”

Dr. Lantern nodded toward two chairs against the far wall and said, “Why don’t you gentlemen have a seat, and I’ll see if I can explain.”

Ping’s counterpart said, “Actually I think it might be a good idea if I go downstairs and keep Sam company. I’ll let Bruce know that Mara’s awake as well.” He left the room, relieved that no one protested his departure.

“He seems eager not to be here,” Mara said. “Bruce has been waiting for me to wake up?”

“Yes. He wants to explain how this happened and to make sure you’re all right,” her father said. “Before he visits, let me give you some context so you don’t hurt the poor boy.”

Mara sighed but nodded.

“You commented a few minutes ago about how people here make babies. It probably hasn’t occurred to you, but there are no babies here. Those of us who come here do so at the age of ten, crossing over after being placed in the receptacles.”

Mara scooted up. “You’re right. That never occurred to me. No babies anywhere.” She rubbed her tummy. “So your Mara wanted to have a baby?”

“It’s more than a maternal need,” he said. “You see, this realm only exists because the progenitor created it, and she had always suspected that it would cease to exist when she did—when her body in the receptacle died. That suspicion was confirmed when she disappeared and the chasms appeared. Our world was coming apart because she was no longer here. Understand?”

“Yes. She’s trying to continue this world after she’s gone.”

“Exactly. It’s a concept we call
perpetuity
, the continued existence of this realm beyond the life of the progenitor.”

Mara’s eyes widened. “I’ve heard that word before. Perpetuity. The chief mentioned it, but I didn’t know what he meant. Her gaze drifted as she considered the concept. “To save this realm, she needed to have a baby here, not just another person crossing over from a receptacle.”

“We’d always thought that procreation would be the means to establish perpetuity, but it had never worked before,” he said. “People here do have sex, but it doesn’t produce offspring.”

“I’m confused,” Mara said. “If my counterpart is your daughter, then how was she created if you and her mother entered receptacles when you were ten?”

“In the physical realm, when an adult couple—meaning a couple who has already transitioned to synthetic bodies—wishes to procreate, DNA is extracted from their biological bodies and the child gestates in a birthing facility.”

“Romantic. That question never came up while we ran around with the synthetic folks,” she said. “So, you and Mom had a baby in the physical realm, and, when she was ten, she showed up here.”

“Correct.”

“I’ll stop interrupting soon. I promise. Back to the procreating part. Why didn’t the sex produce any babies in this realm?”

Ping stood up and approached the opposite side of the bed. “I think I might be able to answer that,” he said.

“Why don’t you move your chair over here so she won’t feel like she’s watching a tennis match?” Dr. Lantern asked. “The last thing we want to do is set off another wave of nausea.”

After getting his chair situated, Ping sat down and continued, “This is a realm of thought. It was created by the mind of the progenitor, and the Reality experienced here derives from impulses in the brains of each individual. Everything is made of thought. However, without Consciousness—one of the four elements of Reality—there can be no procreation. A new individual cannot come into being without that basic element of Reality.”

“And yet I’m pregnant. Here, in a realm of thought. And still no one has explained
how
. Why am I the one toting around the impossible fetus?”

“From what I can get from Bruce, it has something to do with the clothing,” her father said, his eyes scanning the leatherlike pants and vest that Mara still wore.

Mara plucked at a button on her vest. “This clothing?” She remembered the wisps that wrapped around her legs and backside after she had donned the pants in the closet. Her eyes widened. “You’re saying this outfit made me pregnant?”

He looked like he doubted it himself, but her father nodded, just without conviction. “That’s what I’m given to believe. Though, like I said before, I don’t know how it works. Mara swore Bruce to secrecy, and he seems reticent to reveal too much, at least to me.”

“Wait a minute. Did the other Ping know this would happen? No wonder he wanted to leave the room so bad. He fashion-shamed me into putting on this getup in the first place.”

Her father shook his head. “He didn’t know, wouldn’t have done that. I promise you.”

Mara wasn’t so sure, but let it go.

“Regarding Bruce,” Ping said, running interference for his counterpart, “I image a young man might not want to get caught between the progenitor and her father, especially on a subject of this sensitivity. Perhaps he would be more forthcoming if alone with Mara.”

“That’s what I was hoping,” her father said. “And why I wanted you to understand perpetuity and what it means to us. It’s a matter of our long-term survival. We can be more than simple impulses in the brains of other people. We want to live full lives in control of our own destinies.”

She glared at Ping. “See? This happens when I let people tell their stories without interrupting. It turns into a saga about the survival of their world instead of how I ended up pregnant.”

Ping cocked his head and smiled, “To be fair, you interrupted plenty of times.”

“Yet I still don’t know how this happened. Other than the whole impregnated-by-couture thing,” she said. “Where’s Bruce?”

Ping and Mara’s father had already left her bedroom when a light knock came at her door. She wasn’t sure what to expect in terms of an explanation, but she wanted to get it over with. “Come in,” she said.

Bruce opened the door and peeked inside before entering. As he crossed the room, his pace picked up, and he smiled, angling for the side of the bed. Mara raised her hand and said, “Slow down, cowboy. The bed is off limits to you.” She pointed to Ping’s abandoned chair still nearby and said, “You will sit there. Them’s the rules. Got it?”