The Gate to Futures Past (16 page)

A loud splash brought me closer to consciousness again. I cracked open one eye, seeing light, and congratulated myself on lasting until dawn.

The splash had an echo: several echoes. Weight shifted off my legs as the orts abandoned their perch; I'd felt no discomfort with them there, but now my skin itched fiercely, as though inflamed.

What was coming? I fought waves of dizziness, quite sure I didn't want to die in the jaws of something slimy and large. If I wanted that kind of ending and still had the strength, I could
push
myself into the M'hir. There was, naturally, nothing I could do about either.

“Sira!”

Much better, I thought, relaxing and letting the darkness creep over me again. To fade away dreaming of Morgan's voice? My mind was kinder to me than I'd imagined.

“Sira!? Answer me!”

I smiled, sinking deeper. What a convincing dream.

Sira, wait for me. I'm here!
His sending flooded my thoughts, pulling me away from that brink like a spray of cold water wakes a sleeper.

This, I told my subconscious, was going too far. How could I die peacefully with—

With someone dripping all over me? With urgent hands lifting me up?

I opened both eyes. The light was too harsh to be part of the afterlife I'd planned on and the face of my love, so close to mine, was too haggard, dirty, and scared to be anything but real.

But this wasn't real, it couldn't be, for this had already happened . . .

A voice came from the ground beneath, or was it in my bones? >
I can put those who have shared an experience back in that moment.
<

All at once, I was standing—on water—some distance away. Though it was dark—night—I'd no trouble seeing
me
within a filthy blanket, half-buried in mud and vegetation. I felt perfectly normal, no longer near death, watching
Morgan
, soaking wet and haggard, his light tossed aside, reach for
me
—

While Morgan stood beside me, watching
us,
too.
Interesting.

I'd other words for it. Part of me wanted to stay and watch what was about to—no, what had happened next.

The rest wanted out of here, now.
END THIS!

I fell out of bed.

Well, that was annoying. As Morgan swung his legs over the side, I got up and sat beside him.

“Interesting indeed.” With a tender smile.

Because next had been our Joining, at the edge of death and end of hope. Unspoken
warmth
flowed between us and my Chosen collected my hand in his, bringing the fingers to his lips.
Witchling.

My hair coiled around his neck, teased an ear. Had we been truly alone—but no. In fact, the Core was full, some occupants already settled in their beds, lights dimmed, while the rest sat,
studiously ignoring us. It was eerily quiet; what conversations were underway weren't being shared aloud.

Some had to be about what they'd seen, our bed rising to the ceiling, and what they hadn't, that ceiling mercifully in shadow. I would, I promised myself, explain later. First—

Sona, I sent,
what did you do to us?

>By accessing the null-grid across connected points, Keeper, I was able to select a powerful shared memory and lead you to experience it again, together.<

“That made no sense,” I whispered.

Morgan half-turned to face me. “What did it say?”

He hadn't
heard?
I relayed
Sona
's strange explanation.

“‘Null-grid?'” His eyes gleamed.

“It makes sense to you?” I asked hopefully.

That earned me a noncommittal shrug, my Human rarely willing to leap to conclusions. I'd have been happy to, had I seen anywhere to leap. “We have to get back in the Dream.”

I was afraid he'd say that—not surprised. I put my hand on his chest and pushed him back. Morgan settled on the bed, arms open in welcome.

Sona.

>
Keeper. What is your will?<

To Dream.

This time, I caught the moment when my mind awoke within my sleeping body. Practice, I supposed. Disturbing, to exist in the absence of anything but awareness. Even the M'hir provided more sensation.
Jason?

Here.
His mindvoice reassuringly normal.

>
The not-Right Kind continues to access this portal.<
I could have sworn that sounded aggrieved.

And happy to be here, old ship,
Morgan replied.
Explain how your ability to share memories across the null-grid answers your Keeper's initial query.

My decision to pull us out of the last Dream having been hasty.

Individual memory of an event is incomplete. Combining multiple sources provides more information and offers clarity.

How many can you combine at once?

>All who experienced the event.<

Mind-destroying horrors weren't “events.”
How could that help anyone?
I protested.

>
Incomplete information causes distress.<

Maybe to a machine mind—

It does.
I could almost
feel
Morgan's worrying at the problem.
We fill in the gaps with what we imagined took place—and those imaginings can take hold and grow to be worse than the reality. This could help some of them see the difference. As could reliving the trauma from a safe distance, with someone else.

Was my instinctive resistance because if I believed this, I had to believe my mind and memory fallible, too? Or because I didn't trust
Sona
's motives?

Likely both. Fortunately, this wasn't my decision, and the one who'd make it I did believe in and trust.

What's the procedure?
my Chosen asked.

>The Keeper requests use of the access portal interface and identifies those individuals and events to be connected across the null-grid. Those individuals are brought in proximity to the interface. The not-Right Kind need not be further involved.<

Oh, yes, he does,
I ordered, before
Sona
could cut Morgan from the Dream. There'd been a distinct shift in the ship's inner voice, one my Human would have noticed, too. An Om'ray Keeper wouldn't communicate with it in such terms. Was it drawing them from Morgan—or using what it knew he understood?

Another reason to keep Morgan in the Dream.

>
As you wish, Keeper. Do you request use of the access portal interface?<

Jason?

He answered not in words, but with a rush of emotion.
Hope. Confidence.

Yes,
I told the ship. Finally, some progress.

>Your request is denied, Keeper.<

Well, that hadn't lasted. I shouldn't have been surprised.
Why?
I asked it, with what I felt was commendable restraint. Learning, I was.

>The access portal interface is in use.<

It couldn't mean—

Sira.

If the ship was meddling with our minds again, I was more than happy to set Morgan against it.
Fix this,
I sent, uncaring if
Sona
could detect my rising fury
.

Or the fear that came with it. Was it about to install more false memories, so we'd arrive believing ourselves in the past—or some other manipulation, to change who and what we were—

Or had we been altered already, and only the machine knew how?

>
I do not require repair, Keeper.<
Wary.

We require clarification,
Sona, Morgan informed it.
To what current use is the access portal interface being put?

>It seeks a readiness confirmation from the Source access portal interface. Once confirmation has been received, I will transmit my records and receive final instruction.<

Reveal nothing, I told myself, burying my emotions as deeply as possible, keeping silent. Was this a clue how to affect the ship's systems—how to perhaps take over control? It sounded promising.

Only Morgan knew if it was.
What is the procedure if you do not receive confirmation?

Sona
rarely delayed. Now, a pause long enough to make me wonder if I'd fallen truly asleep and wish I'd a way to pinch myself without being noticed. Then—

>
I will receive confirmation.<

Unforeseen contingencies arise,
Morgan pressed.
You will arrive later than anticipated. What is the procedure?

>
The not-Right Kind is in error. Keeper, I will receive confirmation.<

Seeking reassurance or making a promise?
Answer the question,
Sona. The ship was hardly less alien than any species we'd faced over a trade. Toss its own words back.
This is a present, critical concern.

>Failing confirmation, I am—I am—I am—<
Each “I am” was followed by a sharp pause, as if the ship were prevented from completing what it wanted to say. >
I am—I am—<

I withdraw the question.
Morgan, with a
grim
undertone.

>
I will receive confirmation. All will proceed as expected, Keeper. At your request, I will end this Dream.<

Relief?

It wasn't what I felt, nor satisfaction.
Jason?

Sona.
You have provided three more meals. Please confirm.<

>Confirmed. Adequate nutrition has been supplied.<

>Will you provide a fourth?<

>It will not be necessary. Upon arrival at our destination, further nutrition will be supplied by other means.<

“Arrival.” The question it hadn't acknowledged in any way until now. I'd have hugged Morgan if we'd been flesh and not Dream.

Glad to hear it. What is the precise time of arrival?

Hesitation. Then,
>Once confirmation has been received, I will transmit my records and receive final instruction, which will include the precise time of arrival.<

A straight, comprehensible answer. I waited, knowing Morgan, having pried one loose, wouldn't leave it at that.

Understood. What can you tell us about our destination?

>
The Keeper requested to be taken home.<

We knew that.

But
Sona
wasn't done. >
Home is the Source, not-Right Kind. It is from the Source I will receive confirmation.<

And if not?

End the Dream.

We curled together in the dark, under our blanket, outwardly peaceful.

Appearances were deceiving.
Self-destruct?!

Morgan's arm tightened around me.
I'm guessing.

Guesses that were right, I thought glumly, more often than not.
So if
Sona
doesn't hear from “home,” you think it's going to blow itself up. And us.
Even a rational being could start believing in a cosmic conspiracy.
From a stutter?