Steven Harper - Silent Empire 02 - Nightmare.pdf - Steven Harper - widez2

NIGHTMARE

A NOVEL OF THE SILENT EMPIRE

STEVEN HARPER

THE SILENT EMPIRE

It is through first contact with an alien species that humanity learns of the Dream. It is a plane of

mental existence where people are able to communicate with one another by their thoughts alone —

over distances of thousands of light-years. To ensure that future generations will have this ability,

human genetic engineering produces newborns capable of finding and navigating the Dream.

They become known as the Silent

NIGHTMARE

Her eyes snapped opened. "You don't care for poetry?" The man was right in front of

her. She could smell his sour breath. "But I love you."

The glen changed. Grass and flowers withered and died. Night-black clouds blew

across the sun. A chorus of voices wailed on the wind. Terror suffused Prinna Meg. She

couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't. . .

continued . . .

Don't miss the first book of the Silent Empire

DREAMER

"This series opener should appeal to lovers of far-future space opera and sf

adventure."

— Library Journal

"In terms of narrative and world building, this is definitely a well-told tale, and

Harper's skill at characterization is significantly above average. Moreover, his

extrapolation of aboriginal Australian myth freshens the shopworn theme of telepathy.

Even

the

future

slums

imagines

are

memorably

vivid.

Intelligent

entertainment." —Roland Green, Booklist

"Harper is a promising writer." —On Spec Site

ROC

Published by New American Library, a division of

Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand,

London WC2R ORL, England

Penguin Books Australia Ltd, Ringwood,

Victoria, Australia

Penguin Books Canada Ltd, 10 Alcorn Avenue,

Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4V 3B2

Penguin Books (N.Z.) Ltd, 182-190 Wairau Road,

Auckland 10, New Zealand

Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: Harmondsworth, Middlesex, England

First published by Roc, an imprint of New American Library, a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.

First Printing, October 2002 -10 987654321

Cover art by Royo

Cover design by Ray Lundgren

REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

Printed in the United States of America

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or

introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying,

recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are

used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely

coincidental.

BOOKS ARE AVAILABLE AT QUANTITY DISCOUNTS WHEN USED TO PROMOTE PRODUCTS OR SERVICES. FOR

INFORMATION PLEASE WRITE TO PREMIUM MARKETING DIVISION, PENGUIN PUTNAM INC., 375 HUDSON

STREET, NEW YORK. NEW YORK 10014.

To Kala

(They're always for her, though it doesn't always say that in print.)

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to acknowledge the ever-helpful members of the Untitled Writers Group

(Karen Everson, Anne Harris, Jonathan Jarrard, Lisa Leutheuser, Erica Schippers,

Shannon White, and Sarah Zettel), and my editor Laura Anne Gilman for support,

snacks, and an endless supply of editorial comments. Thanks also to my agent Lucienne

Diver, who does her best to keep me out of trouble.

PROLOGUE

Sometimes bad things happen to good people.

—Yeoman Daniel Vik,

First Bellerophon Landing Party

Sister Prinna Meg stretched her Dream body and yawned beneath her rowan tree. It

had been a long shift. Time to go. Her drugs were wearing off in any case, and if she

didn't leave the Dream soon, she would be yanked out of it instead, an uncomfortable

experience at best.

Prinna's Dream landscape was a sun-dappled glen with green grass, yellow flowers,

and a pair of rowan trees. The breeze was sweet and light, as in late spring. Prinna

inhaled appreciatively of her own creation. Bellerophon was currently undergoing a

rainy stretch, and the overhead sun, Dream or not, felt wonderful. Perhaps she could eke

out her stay for a few more—

A heavy footfall jarred her to the core. Startled, Prinna looked around. Someone was

encroaching on her Dream territory without asking permission first. It was an unpleasant

presence. When Silent like Prinna wished to confer with another Silent in the Dream,

they had to decide between them who would shape the landscape of their meeting

place. Treading on someone else's turf without permission was like someone running an

uninvited hand over that person's face.

More jarring footfalls. The intruder—Prinna sensed it was a man, a human like

herself—was stomping toward her without regard to her landscape, forcing bits of his

own impressions on this part of the Dream. This went beyond rude.

Prinna drew herself up, gathering her brown robes around her beneath the rowan

tree. She was a brown-haired, blue-eyed woman in her third decade, not really pretty,

but not unattractive either. A silver ring with an amber stone graced her right hand,

indicating her rank as a Sister among the Children of Irfan. Prinna put her hand on the

front of her robe to ensure ring and rank were visible. Overhead, a small flock of birds

wheeled and twittered in the blue sky.

"Who is that?" she demanded.

Silence. Then another footfall. Maybe she should just let go of the Dream, go back to

her body. Her work was done. What did it matter if a rude lout was stomping around?

The glen would disappear when she did. Then the teacher in her, the part of her that had

tutored half a dozen Silent students, came to the fore. If no one told him what he was

doing was wrong, he would keep on doing it. It was her duty to let him know he was

breaking with etiquette.

"Who is that?" Prinna said. "Show yourself! Stop stomping around like a half-grown

bull."

A figure emerged from behind the other rowan tree and took several steps toward

her. Prinna had been right—a human man. He was quite a lot bigger than she was and

she found herself wanting to take a step backward. Then she realized she was being

ridiculous. In the Dream, the only thing that mattered was willpower and mental

strength. Physical size meant nothing at all. She held her ground. A small part of her

noticed that his feet had left empty earth where they touched down on her grass and

flowers.

"You're pretty," the man said. "Did you like the poems?"

Prinna blinked, confused. What was he talking about? Uncertainty tinged her again. "I

don't read poetry," she said, clutching the front of her robe. "I don't care for—"

The man raised his head to the sky and howled like a dog. Fear tanged Prinna's

stomach. Her cue to leave, thank you. Someone else would have to teach this weirdo

some manners. She closed her eyes to gather her concentration so she could let go of the

Dream. But before she could finish, something cold wrapped itself around her waist.

Her eyes snapped open, her concentration destroyed. A rowan branch was holding her

prisoner, squeezing hard enough to choke the air from her lungs.

"You don't care for poetry?" The man was right in front of her. She could smell his

sour breath. "But I love you."

The glen changed. Grass and flowers withered and died. Night-black clouds blew

across the sun. The ground rumbled, and blackened, evil trees without leaf or blossom

twisted out of the ground and formed a tormented forest. A chorus of voices wailed on

the wind. Terror suffused Prinna Meg. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't . . .

"I love you, you stupid bitch," the man said.

Prinna Meg's pain began.

ONE

You can sell a body without consent, but never the soul.

—Captain Irfan Qasad,

First Bellerophon Landing Party

The slave auction took place in a room big as a school gymnasium. Evan Weaver,

hands shaking, shuffled ahead with the rest of the colonists as the slavers herded them

forward. A silvery metal band encircled his left wrist, and a similar one bound his left

ankle. The auction-room floor was gridded with green squares, each a meter on a side,

with yellow pathways painted between them. The air smelled stale, as if poorly

recycled.

"Pick a square and sit!" ordered a slaver in blue coveralls. "Move!"

The colonists slowly scattered themselves across the floor. Mystified, Evan picked a

square and sat. His mother, father, older brother, and younger sister did the same. The

moment Evan sat down on the floor, his square turned red. The plain white tunic he had

been given to wear did little to blunt the chill of the hard floor. More and more

white-clad people from the colony ship arrived and were told to take up squares. Green

squares steadily changed color until nearly all of them were red. Voices rumbled and

echoed around the huge room until a computer tone announced the PA system was

active. The colonists instantly fell silent, already knowing from experience that talking

during the PA announcements resulted in instant pain.

"The auction will be starting soon," announced a harsh voice. "When the buyers come

in to look at you, do what they say, but don't leave your square. Any question the

buyers ask, you answer, and say 'Master' when you do. Otherwise, keep your mouth

shut. It's a silent auction, so you won't see who's bidding."

The PA snapped off. Evan's heart was pounding again. Martina, his ten-year-old

sister, whimpered and reached for their mother. When her hand crossed the boundary of

her square, her silver bands snapped blue. Martina screamed and snatched her hand

back. Rebecca Weaver started to reach for her daughter, but stopped herself barely in

time. Rhys Weaver's jaw worked back and forth, his dark skin mottled with helpless

anger. Evan's brother Keith, who at fifteen was three years older than Evan, stared at the

floor. Around them, the other colonists also looked at the floor or whispered to each

other in frightened voices. Evan's mouth was dry.

Then the floor shifted. Evan tensed as all the squares, including his, rose slowly

upward until they were about a meter above floor level. They locked into place with a

bone-jarring thump, creating dozens of platforms all around the auction hall. A moment

later, a set of doors opened and more people strolled into the room. Evan blinked, then

stared. His mother gasped and the buzzing among the slaves rose in volume. Not all the

"people" were human. A tall, willowy being with a shock of white hair like a dandelion

clock glided across the floor, followed by what looked like a giant caterpillar. Two

humanoid lizards came in, tongues flicking in and out, and a short, shaggy thing with

three legs skittered by. It carried a smell of wet leaves. Evan almost missed the twenty or

so humans who were with them.

"Aliens," Rebecca said in awe. "All life!"

Similar murmurs rose around them. Evan continued to stare. He had overheard the

slavers talking about aliens and alien buyers, but hadn't actually thought about what

they meant. Aliens were the stuff of the entertainment industry, something you only saw

on a screen or in a VR game. Now they were here, real and breathing. The caterpillar

pittered by, its legs moving in a dazzling pattern.

Evan swallowed hard. From his perspective, he had boarded the colony ship only

four days ago, along with his family, various other members of the Real People

Reconstructionists of Aboriginal Australia, and other groups. They were all bound for a

planet named Pelagosa. Evan's last memory was the lid of the cryo-chamber clanging

shut above him. There was a slight hiss, a heavy feeling, and blackness.

The next thing Evan knew, he was being yanked shivering out of the chamber and

fitted with a silvery wristband and ankleband before his half-frozen mind could

comprehend what was going on. His family and the thousand-odd other colonists had

been fitted with similar shackles. The slavers had unceremoniously hauled them on

board their ship and stuffed them into cell-like rooms. The colony vessel was taken for

salvage. Anyone who fought back or even protested received a debilitating shock from

the bands. Even saying the word "escape" or "revolt" earned a shock. No amount of

banging, picking, or clawing would get the bands off, though Evan's wrist and ankle

became red and raw from the attempt.

During four days of captivity, they had picked up tiny bits of information here and

there, mostly from what the slavers told them. The colonists had been sleeping for either

nine hundred years (real time) or fifty years (ship time), take your pick. While the

colonists lay in cryo-sleep, someone had discovered something called slipspace, which

allowed faster-than-light travel between solar systems. Pelagosa and hundreds of other

inhabitable planets had quickly been colonized. Slower-than-light ships vanished into

history and the vastness of space, their slumbering inhabitants forgotten.

But the slavers remembered.

It didn't matter that the colonists and crew of the ship were not legally slaves. All

records of their existence had long ago been lost or purged, and in any case, Earth was

trillions of kilometers away under a different government.

"Who are you going to complain to?" laughed a slaver named Feder when Evan's

parents Rhys and Rebecca Weaver had expressed outrage and disbelief. "You're slaves

because we say you are and no one who counts will say different."

Feder. Evan shot Keith a quick look. He still hadn't taken his eyes off the floor of his

platform. Maybe he was trying to hide his startling eyes. Blue was an extremely

uncommon eye color among Australian Aborigines, and Keith's eyes made an arresting

contrast with his dark skin and curly black hair. Evan quietly believed that it was Keith's

eyes that had grabbed Feder's attention in the first place. Although Keith steadfastly

refused to talk about any of it, Evan knew that Feder's attention, given in the privacy of

the slaver's own quarters, had not been kind.

A thin woman with white hair approached Keith's platform. "Stand up, you," she said.

"What's your name?"

Keith slowly got up. "Utang, Mistress," he said, giving the Real People name he had

chosen for himself only a few months before the People decided to board the colony

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