Broken Dreams (The Chronicles of Mara Lantern, Book 5) (26 page)

“You’re wondering how they might help us resolve the problem with the Aphotis?” he asked.

“We should do something about it. And soon. At some point in the next week or so, Dr. Canfield will unplug me from the receptacle network so the other Mara can come back. We have to stop the Aphotis before that happens, or this perpetuity these people hope for may never come to be.”

“You’ve clearly been thinking about his. What have you come up with?”

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” She held up the Chronicle of Cosms and said, “Did you know I can travel into space with this thing? Maybe I could take the Aphotis to Saturn and leave it there.”

Ping didn’t look like he believed her.

“It’s true. The other Ping says it can shift me into macrocosm mode just like it does into microcosm mode.”

He took the eyepiece from her and looked into it. “When you are in this microcosm mode, aren’t you in proportion to the cosm in which it transports you?”

“Yeah, I guess. It makes me tiny like my surroundings.”

“So wouldn’t it be logical to expect that, in its macrocosm mode, you would also be in proportion?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Does it make you very large, like your surroundings? I would imagine it would be like looking down on an orrery.”

“A what?”

“An orrery is a mechanical model of the solar system. It would be like looking down on the planets. Instead of interacting with Reality at the elemental level, it would give you a planetary, even galactic, perspective.”

Mara gave him a blank look and tried to swallow but her throat was dry. “Let’s not even go there. Sorry I brought it up. I think we may have to try a more conventional approach. At least conventional for us.”

“Like what?” he asked.

“Like hunting the thing down and killing it, once and for all,” she said. “Now that it’s not inhabiting Abby’s body—” Mara stiffened.

“What?”

“Abby. I haven’t stopped in to see her since this morning. She said she wanted to stay in her room and rest. I think coming out of that bedroom will force her to accept where she is and what has happened to her. Some friend I’ve turned out to be. Do you know I haven’t even told her about the pregnancy?”

“That’s for the best. That kind of news carries with it an explanation she might not be up to accepting, especially if coming out of her room is posing a challenge,” Ping said.

“I didn’t think of it that way. I probably should keep it to myself.”

“Speaking of keeping things to yourself, I would suggest that you keep comments about hunting down the Aphotis to yourself when your father is in the room. I don’t get the impression he would stand aside while you charge into battle.”

“Hmm. It hadn’t occurred to me that he might be a problem.”

“If you want to search for the Aphotis, I would suggest waiting until your father goes on his rounds tomorrow. I would also suggest we not use the copter, because of its obvious vulnerabilities.”

“How are we getting around?” she asked.

“My counterpart informs me that there is a small carriage we could use. It would be slower but has the advantage of being earthbound. We could take Sam along to deal with the horse, which he enjoys.”

“All right. Tomorrow we go hunting.”

The carriage parked out front of the manor looked like little more than a platform suspended between two large wheels with two benches mounted on top, everything constructed of weathered wood. It was harnessed to a white mare with brown markings whose head extended off the circular dirt path, snacking on the front lawn. A few feet away Sam foraged for something in the grass too.

Mara and Ping approached the carriage, examining it to determine how someone would get in it. The front door of the manor opened, and the other Ping jogged up to them, carrying a large brown bag, its top folded down to function as a handle.

Carefully handing it to his counterpart, he said, “I packed some lunch for the three of you, just in case, since you weren’t sure how long you would be. I would recommend that you return before dark since the carriage is not equipped with lights or reflectors.”

Ping took the bag and said, “Thank you. I’m sure we’ll be back long before then. Would it be possible for you to familiarize us with this carriage?”

Stuffing rocks into his jeans pockets while running, Sam approached and said, “Just use the step bar right there in front of the wheel to get in the carriage. One of you will have to sit in the back since I’m driving.”

Mara waved from the side of the carriage and stepped up into it. “I’ll take the backseat.”

The other Ping said, “Sam and I took a quick spin in the carriage earlier so he could get familiar with it. And, of course, with Nell.” He patted the horse on the rump. “Although I’m not sure why he is stuffing rocks into his pockets. You’ll have to investigate that for yourselves.” He bowed slightly, pivoted and returned to the manor.

“Why
are
you putting rocks in your pockets?” Ping asked as he stepped into the carriage.

Sam climbed into the other side and took up the reins. “Ammunition. In case we run into the Aphotis. That is the point of this trip. Right?”

Ping glanced at the front door of the manor, making sure it had been closed. “Yes, but we’re not necessarily sharing that information.”

Sam tugged on the reins and made a
click
ing sound with his tongue. The horse and carriage did not move. He frowned at Ping and tried it again. The horse whinnied and clomped a hoof on the ground.

“Do you know how this is supposed to work?” Ping asked.

“It’s not rocket science. You just click your tongue at Nell, and she’s supposed to mosey down the path. I never had any trouble with her sister,” Sam said.

He handed the reins to Ping and jumped off the side of the carriage and walked alongside the horse, petting her as he made his way to her face. Giving her a scratch on her chin, he said, “What’s the matter, girl?”

The horse jerked its head away and stepped backward, pushing the carriage about a foot in the wrong direction. A mider skittered between its legs, running across the path toward the carriage. Sam reached up and tried to calm the spooked horse.

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out his receiver pad and tossed it to Ping. “A mider’s coming your way. I think it scared the horse.”

“Maybe it’s going into the house,” Ping said, looking around, not able to locate it.

On the right side of the carriage, the mider scaled the spokes of the wheel and, using its two front legs, leveraged itself on the rim in a pole-vault maneuver that sent it flying onto the bench next to Mara. Startled, she swatted at the tiny machine as its straightened on it legs and leaned toward her.

“God, I hate those things,” Mara said. “Sam, come and get this bug away from me before I stomp on it.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Just use the pad and get the message it has for you. Then we can be on our way.”

Ping handed the pad to her. Without turning her gaze from the mider, Mara took the pad. Swinging the device before her like a shield, she pressed her thumb against the glass screen and extended the pad closer to the mider. The pad’s intake fan whirred and vibrated. Instead of releasing its puff of digisteam, the mider pitched forward, emitted a hiss, like the grinding of tiny gears, and froze in place.

Mara gritted her teeth and prepared to bash the metallic messenger with the pad if it made one wrong move. Then the shell atop its body opened, extended its tiny smokestack and released a tiny puff. The pad inhaled it.

As Sam climbed onto the front bench, he looked back and said, “See? Why do you have to make things so complicated? Just let them do their thing, and they will leave you alone.”

The pad vibrated in Mara’s hands.

Sam noticed it trembling and said, “Why are you shaking? You’re not really that scared of those things are you?”

Mara held it away from her body. “It’s not me. Something’s happening with the pad.”

The top corners of the pad drooped like dog ears, the metal in its frame growing soft like butter. Cracks jagged across the glass screen. As heat singed Mara’s fingers, she tossed the pad, sending it across the front lawn where it exploded in midair, loud enough to make everyone cringe. Nell whinnied and tucked her head.

Once she had her wits about her, Mara swung back to confront the mider. But it was gone, already crawling into the grass and on to its next recipient.

“What was that all about?” Sam asked.

Mara rubbed the warmth from her fingers onto her pants. “A malfunction? A letter bomb?”

“Perhaps we should go inside and ask my counterpart about it,” Ping said.

“No, let’s get going. We can ask him when we get back,” Mara said. “But we’re not stopping to take any more messages. I’ve never had a good feeling about those creepy miders. Maybe I can create something in the lab to replace them, something like steam-based Internet.”

Sam turned around and
click
ed at the horse. This time Nell responded, and they were on their way down the path. As they exited the manor grounds, Sam looked to the sky and said, “If you could imagine a steam-based Internet, maybe you could store data in the clouds. Get it?”

Mara groaned at the pun but said nothing.
You know? That just might work.

They settled into a comfortable silence and allowed themselves to be lulled by the rhythm of the
clap-clop
of the horse’s hooves on the unpaved road. Other than seeking out the Aphotis, Mara didn’t have a plan of action. It was Ping’s role to cajole her into formulating one, and he had given up the night before. All she knew was something had to be done about the creature before time ran out and she was forced back to the physical realm.

“What are we doing when or if we find the Aphotis?” Sam asked. “At least I thought to bring some rocks.”

Maybe Ping wasn’t the one who always insisted on a plan.

“I’m not sure,” Mara said. “Sitting around in the manor will not resolve anything. We’ll just run out of time that way.”

“And you think confronting it will resolve something?” Ping asked.

“Take a minute to consider when the Aphotis has done the most damage, done the most harm to people,” she said. “Back in our realm, the shedding took hold before we knew it was happening. In Cam’s realm, he experimented and tore their synthetic bodies apart until he concluded giving them bodies of light would help gain his advantage over us.”

“Yeah, so?” Sam asked.

“Whenever we leave him alone, to his own devices, is when he does the most damage,” Mara said. “I’ve also noticed that he—it—runs more often than not when confronted directly. Oh, it’ll fight for a moment or two, but I get the impression it knows it can’t win or, at the very least, thinks that it’s possible to lose.”

“So you believe keeping the Aphotis busy is the best way to prevent it from harming the people in this realm,” Ping said.

“That and interacting with it might lead to a way of defeating it,” she said. “To be honest with you, I’m getting sick of it.”

“Perhaps you should set your sights a little higher,” Ping said. “Instead of planning the next battle, maybe you should prepare for the end of the war.”

“Are we back to talking about the metaphysical battle to define the nature of existence? Because something tells me the Aphotis isn’t really fighting that war.”

“What about the oral history of the people from his realm? They predicted the rise of the darkling wraith and the Aphotis. Their whole funerary practice was built around those beliefs. They even told us about the book from the future, the Chronicle of Continuity that Hannah brought back to us. Even writings from my realm talk about a metaphysical battle to define the nature of Reality. It all fits,” Ping said. “Doesn’t it?”

“All of those pieces fit. A little too neatly for my taste. But the one thing that doesn’t fit is the Aphotis himself.”

“Go on.”

“The same legends you reference about the coming of the Aphotis predicted that the darkling wraith would be joined with the progenitor, not her friend from high school who happened to be in the neighborhood. Remember how Hannah prompted me, giving me the ability to expel Prado from my body. So the legend still works with a backup plan? I don’t think so.”

Sam pulled on the reins of the horse, and the carriage came to a stop at an intersection. “Which way you guys want to go? Straight ahead will take us to the center of town. Right goes toward the river where we can take another road north into town. Left goes ... I don’t know where left goes.”

“Which road did you guys take when you were with Dad?” Mara asked.

“The road ahead.”

“Let’s take the river route then,” she said. To Ping, she asked, “That okay with you?”

He nodded. Once they were underway again, he said, “In effect, you are saying the Aphotis failed from the beginning—didn’t fulfill the prophecy—when it lost its hold on you. That’s your rationale?”

“That and things he has done since. Like when I encountered my counterpart inside the Chronicle of Creation—the one who rearranged Sam’s pixels to look like me?”

Sam interjected, “Yeah, so not an improvement.”

Ping nodded. “I recall you telling me.”

“She talked about the viable realm, implying that our realm—my realm—was possibly it.”

“Yes, we discussed the concept.”

“Nothing the Aphotis has done could remotely be conceived of as laying the groundwork for a realm that would be viable. Everything he had done has led to disaster, and I cannot see any larger purpose in it other than him—Prado—serving his own needs.”

“And what needs are those?” Ping asked.

“He’s a dead guy who wants to keep living. He doesn’t care about controlling the outcome of Reality. That’s just a smoke screen. Somehow I can
feel
it.”

“You might be on to something. He might be creating a diversion to hide his real intentions. But you should consider this—if his motivation is to continue living, fulfilling the prophecy—possessing you might be his only option to survive.”

“I hate when you tie a knot in my logic just as I’ve gotten it untangled,” she said. “You say I need to look beyond the battle and end the war. How?”