Prophet and the Blood March (Prophet of ConFree) (5 page)

"Have some dox, Doctor," the Prof said, handing Doctor D a steaming cup of dox.

"Oh, am I wandering again? The Professor is too polite to mention it, but when he interrupts I know I'm off the subject. All right." He took a sip of dox. "Excellent! Thank you, Prof. Now – the mission. My own mission is Dimension X. I won't bore you with what I'm doing to research that dimension but ConFree is putting a lot of resources into the mission. And we're making good progress. When we learn anything that will assist you in your mission, we'll let you know. Your own mission is twofold, but the chron viewing part – prophecy – is first. We're not sure how to encourage these wonderful DX dreams that you've been having from time to time, but we're going to do our best to put your minds into receptive channels. We don't know how to do that yet, so please be patient."

Once Doctor D got started talking, he didn’t like to stop. I tried to remain patient.

"Your visions have all occurred while you were asleep," he rambled on,"so we're going to be monitoring your DX channels while you're sleeping, as unobtrusively as possible. We're also going to be continually updating you on the galactic political situation, just to up the chances that you will recognize what the dream is about, if it is about something that's going on in the news. Once you do have a DX dream, we will use a brainscan to gather all possible details about the vision. You know how that works already."

"Are we going to have any privacy in our bedrooms?" Ice asked.

"Of course! We're going to affix some DX monitors to your scalp – they're tiny little things, you won't even know they're there. But they won't do anything until you activate them. And you'll activate them by turning on a little device on your bedside table. You turn it on just before you drift off to sleep. All it does is monitor. No pain, no fuss. Turn it off in the morning, then forget about it. If there was any activity at night, we will have recorded it and we can review it in the morning. Neat, no?"

"Do you have any idea what prompts these DX dreams?" Saka asked.

"No. Although I subscribe to Paula Deep's theory that intense worry and concern and stress are causal factors."

"So if we're happy and content, we're fighting the program," I said.

"I believe I could get you a transfer to the Legion Recovery Hospital, Prophet, if you think that would help," the Prof said, with a happy smile. The man does have a strange sense of humor.

"Just forget what I said, all right?" I shut down quickly. The Legion Neurological and Physiological Reconstructive Recovery Hospital was a first-class nightmare. We called it the House of Horrors. Saka, Ice and I had all spent time there, and had vowed never to return.

"The second focus of our program will be telepathy, that is, extrasensory psychic communication. At first we did not realize that your new DX brain structure involved telepathy but then along came the Black Angel – um, I mean Miss Bees, and her DX gave her extraordinary telepathy, reading the thoughts of our Bright benefactors. Well, of course! The Brights are telepaths! They don’t even talk – normally. So why should your DX brain structures not contain that gene? Miss Paula will facilitate your telepathic training. So pay attention to her! She's very good."

Δ

"My goodness! You're easy to read – just like Prophet!" Little Miss Paula had the two of us, Bees and me, facing each other in very comfortable airchairs while she supervised from a little glidechair. We were in an examination room, with the lights turned low and the windows darkened. "I wonder if that's DX or just your regular thought processes. But you're clear." She was addressing Bees. Paula was a pretty little thing, carelessly combed brown hair, brown eyes and full, tempting lips. She looked like a kid. "My, you really like Prophet, don't you? Be careful now – no touching! Prophet doesn't like touching. Or at least not when I was doing it. Oh, who's that? You're thinking about someone else now. Ooh, quite a stud – I mean, a real man. Who's that?"

"That's Scout – my fiancée."

"Oh good. Looks like a good catch. All right, well back to business. Let me take a peek at you, Prophet. Don't worry, I won’t touch. Uh-oh, what's this? Oh, is that so? You really like Bees, do you? Yes, you do. Oh my goodness. This session could become very touchy-feely, no? Oh, and there's your wife, that classy princess. I remember her. So you're both taken, so no monkey business, all right? Here's what we're going to do. Background, Bees you have received telepathic thoughts from the Brights. But so far not from humans. Right?"

"That's right."

"So we start supposing that you should be able to receive thoughts from Prophet because he also has the DX brain structure. And if you can do that, we can go on to further develop you and then get Prophet to try the same thing. Now the best way to experiment like this is in a calm environment. I want you both to relax as best you can, just lie back in those wonderful airchairs and relax everything and Bees, I want you to see if you can receive any thoughts from Prophet. If you think you do, tell him what you hear. Prophet, you might want to throw random word-thoughts out there, slowly, just keep repeating them. I want no pressure on you for this experiment so I'm going to disappear for awhile. But I'll be checking from time to time to see if there's any progress, or to offer advice. And to ensure there's no touching." And she left the room, closing the door behind her.

"She's something, isn’t she?" Bees asked.

"I hardly dare think when she's in the room. She's good. But a little…well, never mind."

"All right, I'm going to try and read your thoughts. It was easy with the Brights. But we'll see. I've never heard any thoughts from a non-Bright, as Paula said."

"Fine. I'll just lie here thinking of a word or two."

I lay there quietly, wondering what I should think about. Maybe it should be about Bees. And what words would I associate with Bees? Spirituality, certainly. She had been in charge of faith, in Delta. Nobody had appointed her to do that, at first. She had just done it. Effectively. It was like she had a direct link to God. Faith. Yes. At first I thought she was spooky. Creepy even, chanting to God when we were charging into battle. But then I had seen her faith in action. Good lord – she was like a soldier of God, fearless and faithful, speaking to God for us all. Faith. Yes, that was the word. Faith faith faith. That was Bees' word.

"I hear you, Prophet," she said quietly.

"Really? What did you hear?"

"Faith. And yes, it is my word," Bees said.

I shouted with delight, leaping out of my chair. Paula burst in the door. "What!"

"She's done it," I said. And that was the start of our telepath project.

Δ

"Tell me again how this works," Honeyhair said. We were stranding by the bed, looking over the little black device on the nightstand. We were ready for a good night's sleep. I was in shorts and tee and Honeyhair was in a silky nightgown.

"Well, they've attached four little receivers to my scalp," I said. "And it's true, I'm hardly aware of them. They're set up to receive any neural signals from my DX brain structure. So if I have any DX dreams they should record it, and feed it to the lab. But only if this device is on. We turn it on before we go to sleep, then turn it off in the morning. They did some testing on me in the lab and it seems to be working."

"So it will record your DX dreams?"

"That's the idea."

"Is it going to record anything else that goes on in this bedroom?"

"Well, I sure hope not."

"Are you sure you need to turn that thing on to activate your DX brain?"

"It won't activate my brain. It will only record any DX signals."

"So now I'm sleeping not only with you, but with the whole lab."

"Don't be silly. All they'll see is the DX signals."

"Well, I feel like I'm sleeping with three at least. Maybe we should name him."

"Him?"

"Yeah, let's call him Oscar. Our silent companion."

"Oscar. Fine. I've got to get some sleep. Goo-night, Sweetie Pie."

"Good night, Dear. Good night, Oscar. Shall I turn him on, or will you?"

"I'll get it," I said, activating the unit.

I was exhausted. It had been a long day, struggling to activate my apparently non-existent telepath receiving skills. It was hard – very hard. What if I didn't have the correct gene or whatever was required? I tried to relax my mind but the day's events were swirling around in my head. Got to relax. Got to sleep. I started to drift off.

"Dear."

"What?" I asked.

"I want to play." She wants to play, I thought. Great.

"All right," I said. "What do you want to play? Checkers? Strato? What?" In my defense, I was totally exhausted and not thinking straight.

"Does Oscar's range extend to the sofa in the living room?" she asked icily.

"I'm sorry, Sweetie Pie." I hurriedly turned Oscar off. First things first. Honeyhair was always Number One on my list of Things to Do Now. And if I ever forgot that, she reminded me very quickly.

"I'm not your sweetie-pie!" Oh no! Now I'd have to spend at least an hour calming her down. All right, all right, I can do that. No sleep for me.

Δ

Paula was getting frustrated with me. I just wasn't "hearing" any thoughts from my DX colleagues. Bees and Ice were already reading each other's thoughts, but Saka and I were still struggling. Paula had paired me with all three, Bees, Ice, and Saka. I could transmit, all right, but I couldn't receive. Psychically challenged, she called me. But she wouldn't give up. The fact that I could "transmit" meant that my DX structure was all there, and it was just a matter of activating it correctly. I had "received" just fine, on Vezhedak when real Brights wanted to communicate with me, so I knew it could be done. So we continued trying.

Now it was Ice. We sat in the soft darkness, relaxing in airchairs, close together. Paula had left the room to avoid distracting us. Ice – my! She had successfully read my thoughts already, and was getting better at it quickly. And Bees had read her thoughts, too. But I hadn't read anyone yet.

"You all set?" she asked me.

"As ready as I'll ever be. Go ahead," I said.

I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the thoughts in my head. How could I know what were my own thoughts and what were thoughts from somebody else? What would Ice's thoughts be like? Would they sound like her? And what did she sound like? Quiet, guarded, private. In the old days she was hostile, angry, suspicious – and full of hate. But she had changed – a lot. Now she was more – open. Trusting. Vulnerable. I guess getting killed can do that to you.

I tried to relax, and listen to my thoughts. Thoughts like little butterflies, flittering around silently in the garden of my brain neurons. Could I hear anything? What would Ice broadcast? I couldn't "hear" a thing. Just silent butterflies. I thought about Ice. On Starhaven we had come across a dying slaver. He was burnt black from the airstrike, but still barely alive. Ice had shot him without a word. Was it an act of hatred, or mercy? Nobody dared ask her.

Faint faint flutters. What was that? A ghostly impression of a word. Did I hear that right? Love. Love. Could that be it? No. No, I am imagining it. I must be imagining it. Ice wouldn't send that to me, would she?

"I think I hear something," I said. "But I'm not sure."

"What did you hear?"

"I'm probably imagining it. It was very faint. Like a whisper from the bottom of a well."

"What did you hear?"

"Love. That's what I heard. Love."

"Yes, Prophet, that was me. That was my word. Congratulations! Welcome to the psycher community. You are no longer a deadhead."

I felt a great relief. Success, at last. I knew I had a long way to go, but now I was on the right road. A little butterfly, so that's what they are like. All right, I'll nail the next one.

"Ice. Any reason you chose that word?" I asked.

"Yes. That was for Delta. That's what I feel for Delta – everyone in Delta."

Δ

"Feel better?" Scout asked. Scout and Smiley and I had just finished blasting away on Delta Research's excellent indoor firing range for an hour. We were catching some fresh air on a wide balcony terrace that ran around the building.

"I feel terrific!" I said. "I love it. I just love it. I'm not sure why." I took a sip of steaming dox. We had visited the snack bar right after our shooting session.

"It's part of our genes," Scout said. "That's why. Cheers!" He raised his cup.

"That's a ten," Smiley said. "You don't ever miss, do you?" he asked Scout.

"It's why I'm still here," Scout replied. It was only true. Scout was an intense, rangy Outworlder, tall and wiry and tough as nails. I knew he had been with the Deadman Scouts on Sirrah, with the insurgency, battling the local System clones, and had fled the planet only when the insurgency was crushed. The Legion was lucky to get him.

We leaned on the guardrail, looking out at the view. We could see much of Quaba City, but it was a dark, overcast day. A cold wind blew into our faces. Dark grey clouds scudded close overhead and we could not see either of the stars that gave life to the planet.

"Look at this place," Smiley said, looking up into the sky. "Not too inviting, huh? The first settlers must have wondered if they were doing the right thing." Smiley was a young Outworlder with short blond hair and a ruddy face with freckles and a constant faint smile on his lips. It was hard to discourage him. He loved his life, he loved the Legion and he knew he was in the right place. He was a refugee from Katag, from slavery and race hate and oppression. He loved ConFree – he told me he had kissed the ground when his family had arrived in ConFree as dirt-poor refugees. He always made me feel ashamed of myself for growing up in ConFree and never appreciating it.

"It looks like the end of the world," Scout said. A light rain had begun, just a cold mist, floating in with the wind. Evil dark clouds blew past overhead, casting us into darkness. It was cold and bitter. I could see some of the government buildings not far off – seemingly embracing that dark sky.

"They were extremists," I said. "The first Outworlders to land here. They were extremists, fleeing slavery, seeking liberty. They were strong, fearless people, determined to forge their own future here. Crazy brave. Who else would have chosen a planet that orbited a double star? Crazy. And look what they’ve done! They would have looked up at this sky and said, fine. That's our sky. We'll settle right here. Nothing is going to stop us. And if the System follows us, we attack them, and fight to the death. They had nothing to lose, you see. Nothing to lose. Yeah, you're right, Scout. It's in our genes."