Interphase (57 page)

David laid his fingers over the lion's head and closed his eyes; he could just picture a three-year-old version of himself running through the apartment, banging a foil-wrapped stick against the walls with a man's warm voice laughing from another room…

A hard, painful lump rose in his throat and David opened his eyes. His mother wrapped her arms around his neck, crying into the collar of his shirt, and he hugged her tightly.

"Liz?" Roger's voice sounded tentative. "They're ready to start."

Everyone assembled around a hole in the ground. Another man that David didn't know got up to speak about his father's life as an unadorned casket was lowered into the ground. Analara clung to one of his hands; in the other he held the scabbard. All he could do was watch the coffin slip into darkness, burying the hope that one day the veil of sleep could have been broken and he could have met the father he'd never had a chance to know.

For twenty years Jonathan Harris had wandered the paths of the mind, while teams of medical drones and human technicians poked at his body, as if he was a doorway to a locked house and someone had lost the key.

The lump grew so large that David had trouble taking a breath. A dagger of grief buried itself within him, and his hands clenched in pain. Analara reached over to embrace him, her arms holding him close, and he buried his face against her shoulder as his body shook with suppressed sobs.

The eulogy ended, and the crowd began to disperse. David let Analara lead him to a large tree nearby, away from everyone else. The tears had passed and left him feeling hollow and tired. Neither of them spoke, and he was glad of the silence. He couldn't stomach any more empty words of comfort or sympathy.

Idly he scanned the crowd and spotted a familiar face, one of the lead medical techs on his father's case. "I'll be right back," he told Analara. Breaking into a trot, he waved at the man. "Dr. Richards?"

"Yes, David?" The man extended his hand. "It's good to see you again, though I wish it was under better circumstances. It's been a few years."

David shook the offered hand. "I'm glad you could be here."

"It seemed only proper. After so many years at his bedside, I felt that I got to know your father after a fashion."

"Were you there when he…" He felt the knife twist a little and couldn't finish the sentence.

"Unfortunately, no. I had just gone off shift that day. I wish I had stayed just a little longer."

"Do you know how this happened?"

Dr. Richards shook his head sadly. "We're still trying to determine that for certain. Jonathan was in a coma for two decades. His body had never shown signs of weakening, and he had never needed any external assistance from life support. His mind was simply somewhere else. That day though, it was as if he just… shut down. Like he'd been cut off from the part of him that kept him alive."

"Shut down?" David echoed, frowning.

"I've only seen the initial reports, David, and
everything
involving your father's case was unique. I'm afraid it's too early to tell what the exact cause—"

"Do you at least have a guess?"

Dr. Richards sighed. "I understand how important this is to you, David. I wish I had more definitive answers. Unfortunately, those answers may take some time to get, if we ever do get a clear picture of what happened at all. Even with all of our accumulated medical knowledge, your father's case was beyond our experience."

David closed his eyes and felt the lump return to his throat.

Gently, Dr. Richards laid his hand on David's shoulder. "I don't know what happened. But I'm going to do my best to solve this mystery, and if I do, you'll be the first to know."

David didn't notice when Dr. Richards said farewell and walked away.

***

David stalked across the castle balcony. Over the sea, a beautiful sunset lit the forest and cliffs below with shifting colors, but David pushed it aside, unable to rest while his thoughts ran in circles. After the funeral, he had hacked into every data file regarding his father, including the records of his death. Nothing made sense. One moment Jonathan Harris was alive, unconscious but functional. The next, his body simply stopped. The lack of any data leading to a cause of death tormented David's mind.

=Dave, you there? I think I found something,= Clyde sent.

David stopped pacing and looked quizzically at Analara. "Clyde says he's found something." =What do you have?= he replied.

=It's not much, but about the same time the gateway shield went up, a signal attempted to breach the barrier. It didn't get through as far as we can tell, but it happened right before your father died. I thought you'd want to know,= Clyde sent, then closed the link.

Questions piled up in David's mind. Could a signal from Analath have killed his father? Was Shalaron enacting some sort of revenge on him? Had his father been murdered? David's face twisted up in anger, and he stared unseeing into the floor.

"I think you'll bore a hole in the ground with that look," Analara remarked. He heard her shift in her chair. "David, what is going on? Please tell me what you are thinking."

He shook his head. "I've got to figure this out. I don't have time to waste talking."

"If you keep shutting everything else out, you'll be too tired to see the answers even if they jump up and shout at you."

David met her concerned gaze with a glare. "He was my father, Analara. He may have been murdered. I have to know for sure!"

"Knowing whether or not he was murdered won't bring him back."

"I know that," he shouted. "Don't you get it? If someone killed him, then I'll find them and make them pay. Don't tell me you wouldn't do the same thing if someone murdered your father!"

"
If
?" Analara's voice soared with hurt and outrage. She jumped to her feet and crossed the distance to him in a few strides. She stared directly into David's eyes. "Has clinging to your grief and anger blinded you that much?"

David's breath left him in a painful rush. His frustration was eclipsed by deep regret, and he buried his head in his hands, unable to look at her through his shame. Her father and mother
had
both been murdered. She had lived with the pain he was feeling for nearly her whole life. "Analara, what I said was wrong. I'm so sorry."

What was the matter with him? It wasn't like him to fly off the handle like this. It felt like the slightest spark could set off the smoldering torrent of his anger.

Cautiously, David raised his gaze to glance at Analara. Her green eyes bore a remembered sadness and glimmered with tears, but she held them in check, watching him and waiting.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," he said wretchedly. "I'm scared that my father was killed to spite me. That he died because of mistakes that I've made. It tears me apart to think that I might have been the cause of his death, the one person who prevented him from ever coming back."

Analara closed her eyes, and the tears slid down her cheeks. She opened her arms to him. "Come here."

David collapsed into her embrace. For long minutes they held each other in silence, letting their emotions bleed out and wash away. After a time, Analara cleared her throat. "Understand something, love. You may never find the answers to these questions. But even if you do, your grief will continue to drown you until you acknowledge it and let it go. I know of something that may help with that."

"I'm willing to try anything if it means getting my head back on straight." He gave her a hopeful look.

She kissed his forehead. "I love the way humans talk. You speak such delightful nonsense at times."

David shrugged, still holding onto her. "We're a race of madmen. I think it's in our genes."

Analara made him sit down on the floor in a comfortable position, while she sat across from him. The fading light of the sun cast long shadows over everything. "This is the closest event that Anrathians have to your funerals. It is a ceremony of remembrance, a time to bring to light your most cherished memories of those you have lost and share them with the world itself. I know you were young when your father fell ill, but what do you remember most about him?"

David didn't need to think hard. One memory had been riding close to the surface since his mother's gift. He concentrated on the empty space between them, and a replica of his father's sword appeared on the floor.

"That looks like the Wraithblade," Analara said.

"The real sword served as the basis for the Wraithblade." David picked it up and slid his hand along the notched, dull metal. "The real one came from Earth. An ancestor of mine inherited it from a dying soldier, and it's been in my family for ages. My dad told me the whole story when I was little. It's one of the few solid memories I have of him from before the accident."

Analara smiled. "That's perfect, David. Give me one moment to get the tools I need for this." She closed her eyes and concentrated. A small bowl filled with a powdery substance and a burning candle appeared in front of them. She opened her eyes with a look of surprise. "It still feels odd to be able to do that." She took a small handful of the powder and let it flow out of her hand over the flame. The burning smoke gave off a gentle, soothing odor. "Close your eyes and remember his voice. Relive the memory. Do not try to change anything about how you felt, just open yourself to the experience of it." She placed her free hand over his and began to hum softly.

The notes of her song faded into the background of his thoughts as he released himself to memory's embrace.

The sword felt heavy in his hand. His father had to help him hold it up to keep it from dragging on the ground. He ran a free hand over the hilt, gazing in wonder at the roaring lion on the pommel. Dad started telling a story about the escape from Earth, the terrible attack on the Phoenix Mission's launch center, and a brave soldier who faced down an enemy army, armed with nothing but his ceremonial weapon.

"Your great-great-great… well, really great-grandfather was the chief physician on the Phoenix-3 shuttle. He pulled the soldier onboard just before the doors shut and they launched, but the man was badly wounded. Your grandfather tried to save him, but there was nothing he could do. He thanked the dying soldier for sacrificing himself to ensure that the rest of them would have a chance at life. For saving the human race. Before he died, the soldier gave the sword to your grandfather so that he could be remembered. Every member of our family has cherished it since then, because it reminds us…"

"…that everyone has a responsibility to protect the people they care for."

David gasped and dropped the sword. The sound of his father's voice had been so real that his heart skipped a beat. Analara's humming cut off abruptly.

"A nice story, isn't it? Though I'd say it was rather a poor end for the soldier. He single-handedly prevented the extinction of the human race. Does anyone even remember his name? Was he given a monument in one of the gardens? No. Although I suppose such things don't matter to the dead."

David jumped to his feet and spun around. "Show yourself!"

A figure walked up the stairs from the castle and stepped into the fading light, a sardonic grin on his face.

Jonathan Harris stood before them.

"Hello, son. You've grown since I saw you last."

Chapter 46

This can't be real…

"Stay back," David said. "I don't know what you really are, but I know that my father is dead."

The apparition gave a sinister chuckle and took a step forward. David felt Analara clutch his arm. "Oh, you would like that, wouldn't you? You would prefer that I be some malevolent prankster or a malicious hacker? Would it be easier to stomach that than face the consequences of your own actions?" A red light flickered briefly within the figure's eyes.

David held his arm out protectively in front of Analara and materialized the Wraithblade in his free hand. "I warned you already to stay back. You are in
our
home, and I will not hesitate to destroy you, whatever you are, if you threaten us further."

The red glow intensified, and the apparition laughed madly. He rose into the air, and lightning began to crackle around him. "Your home? Your home is an imaginary construct within
my
realms!"

David pulled Analara down to the ground just before the lightning bolt ripped past them into the railing. He spared a glance behind at the torn and twisted metal and noticed a telltale warping. This power was the same as the Crash Storms.

He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as another bolt charged up. Lunging forward, he lowered his shoulder and rammed the figure of his father, knocking them both to the ground. "Analara, run," he shouted.

Analara scrambled to her feet and dashed down the stairwell, followed closely by David. A shriek of rage echoed down the passage, filling him with a familiar fear.

The lightning. The shriek. The fear. The shadow of Analath is hunting us inside our network. How could it have crossed over?

The lights in the castle flickered out, and when they returned, the halls were filled with ghastly phantasms. The soldier from David's memory, wounded and mangled, lurched at them, arms outstretched. David cut him down and pulled Analara farther along the corridor. A shadow of Dr. Richards rose up out of the ground, wearing a hideous sneer, and David thrust his sword forward, dispersing the image. He and Analara fled deeper within the castle, pursued by his nightmares.