Solfleet: The Call of Duty (71 page)

So what had
gone wrong with it? Why had Graves’ edit faltered? Why were the events as they really
occurred manifesting themselves in his nightmares?

He gasped as
the obvious similarity suddenly hit him like a Hellfire cluster rocket square
to the head. Sergeant Graves—
Lieutenant
Graves—had been subjected to a
memory-edit aimed at a particularly traumatic experience and had then suffered
from persistent nightmares of that experience that jibed with reality rather
than with the artificial sequence of events that had been implanted in his mind...

Just like
the nightmares he’d been having himself.

Well, not
exactly
like his. Where Graves had been dreaming of the events as they had actually
occurred, he himself had been dreaming about his own experience in a way that
couldn’t possibly have been—seeing Graves as an adult at a time when he was in
reality only a small boy. But the similarities were uncanny.

So what did
it mean? Had someone at some point in time performed a memory-edit on him as
well? If so, why?

A huge,
thick membrane like a cobra’s cowl fanned out from the sides of its long triangular
head and neck, stretching beyond the width of its massive shoulders as the
creature grew to nearly three meters in height, lifting its feet from the floor
and holding its legs tightly against the long, muscular tail on which it
balanced.

It was back.

A distant,
barely audible voice reverberated in the darkness. “Dylan.” No. It wasn’t a
voice at all. Was it?

It
slithered slowly toward him. He backed away.

He drew
his sidearm, only to have it whipped from his grasp by the creature’s lightning-quick
tail.

He
grabbed everything he could find within reach—medical instruments, tools,
chairs, equipment—and threw it at the creature’s head as hard as he could, but
the agile monster moved too fast and ducked out of the way every time.

It spat. Dylan
threw his arms across his face barely in time to protect it from the venom.

He was
wide open.

“Dylan!” the
voice called out. Yes, it was a voice, louder, more pronounced than before.

The
creature whirled completely around and grabbed him up with its long tail, which
it swiftly coiled around his mid-section. It lifted him up off of the floor,
and then slowly began squeezing the life out of him.

“Dylan!” the
voice cried.

The air
gushed from his lungs.

He couldn’t
draw a breath.

One by
one his ribs began to crack. Tiny sparks of light began dancing like fireflies
in the darkness before his tearing eyes.

He felt
warm blood trickling down over his cheek.

He was
going to die.

“Dylan!”
Beth shouted, shaking him. “Wake up!”

His eyes
snapped open as he gasped for air, filling his lungs to capacity. As the real world
began to form around him he focused on Beth’s worried face, hovering just
inches above his own. “Beth?”

“My god,
Dylan, you were barely breathing!” she cried. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,”
he answered calmly, and then he took her into his arms.

“You scared
the hell out of me,” she said as she rested her head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“It was
those same nightmares again, wasn’t it? They’ve come back.”

Of course it
was the nightmares. He hesitated to admit it though, given how she worried for
him. But on the very day that she’d contacted him to tell him she was resigning
from Solfleet so she could be with him, he’d sworn to himself that he would
never lie to her or keep any secrets from her. So, “Yes,” he admitted.

She sighed. “I
thought all that was finally behind you.”

“So did I.”

Several long
seconds passed between them in silence. Then she asked him, “Why do you think
they came back?”

“I don’t
know,” he snapped. Then he touched his hand gently to her cheek and kissed her
on the forehead, and said, “I’m sorry, Beth. I didn’t mean to bite your head
off. It’s just that...I really thought they were gone for good. I can’t imagine
why...” But then, as his head started to clear, he remembered something and it
occurred to him that maybe he could imagine why after all. “Unless...”

She lifted
her head from his shoulder and looked at him. “Unless?” she coaxed when he didn’t
say anything more. “Unless what?”

He sat up
and propped his pillow against the headboard, then scooted back and leaned
against it. Beth sat up as well and turned to face him, ready to listen. “Maybe
it was the mission briefing this morning,” he theorized. “Commander Royer told
Admiral Hansen about my having those nightmares when we were back on Cirra.
Maybe her mentioning them somehow triggered their return.”

“You think
that’s possible?”

“I don’t
know,” he answered, shrugging his shoulders. “I suppose it could be.”

“What made
her bring them up?”

He looked at
her and reminded himself again of his promise. But this was different. This,
according to the admiral, was classified information, and that left him with no
other choice. As much as he hated the idea of having to do it, he lied to her
for the very first time ever, knowing full well that it wouldn’t be the last. “I
guess Admiral Hansen wanted to make sure I was okay before giving me an
assignment.”

“Oh.” Beth
hesitated a moment, then asked, “So...are you okay?”

“I’m fine,”
he answered. He leaned forward and kissed her, then tossed the covers aside and
got out of bed. He’d told Carolyn a million little white lies while they were
married, just to avoid arguments or long drawn out and usually heavily
one-sided discussions, and he hadn’t felt an ounce of guilt for doing it. But
lying to Beth had left a bad taste in his mouth. “I’ll be right back. I’m going
to get some water.”

He picked
his shorts up off the floor and pulled them on, then strolled into the kitchen
and poured himself a tall glass of ice-cold water. He took a sip, then walked
over to the large rectangular window which, because their guest quarters were
located on the lower deck of the station’s main habitat ring, resembled a
short, wide, crystal clear sliding board, sloping upward and out from the floor
at a roughly forty-five degree angle.

He was glad
the station’s rotation schedule had finally turned their quarters away from the
Earth. The view of Earth from high orbit was an awesome sight to be sure, but
he’d grown tired of looking down on the lights of Europe’s west coast night
after night. Although the recent thunderstorms had made for quite an impressive
spectacle. He gazed ‘down’ at the millions of stars that hung far beyond the
outer reaches of the solar system in whatever astronomical direction they
happened to be facing at the moment, and he wondered if one of them might be Caldanra.

As he took
another sip of water he noticed Beth’s reflection growing in the transluminum
window as she approached him from behind, buttoning her blue pajama shirt’s third
button—the only button still remaining on the ragged old thing.

“You know,
Dylan, a very interesting thought just occurred to me,” she said when she
reached his side.

Dylan passed
his drink from his right hand to his left, then wrapped his arm around her
shoulders and pulled her close. He kissed her, then peered down the front of
her gaping shirt and said, “Let me guess. A new pajama shirt would cover you
more effectively?”

She slipped
between him and the window, wrapped her arms around his waist, and smiled up at
him. “Nope. Don’t need one and don’t want one.”

“Good,” he
said, smiling back. “I like this one.”

“I know you
do.”

They kissed
again. Then Dylan asked, “So what thought just occurred to you?”

Beth turned
to the window and cradled his arm to her chest. “Your nightmares might have
returned for a specific reason. They might really mean something.”

“Oh yeah?
Like what?” he asked, gazing at her reflection.

“Well...”
She hesitated, then admitted with a shrug, “I don’t know. It just seems strange
that the mere mention that you used to have nightmares would be enough to bring
them back. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Oh.” He
looked back out at the stars. “Well, the way the doctors explained it to me,
they weren’t just ordinary nightmares. They were, and I quote, ‘episodes of
subconsciously enhanced mental imagery, loosely based in reality, brought on by
post traumatic stress.’ End quote. Or some such clinical mumbo-jumbo like that.”

“Whatever
that means.”

“Apparently
it means something like ‘extra special’ nightmares.”

Beth
snickered. “Right. But seriously, think about it for a second. Realistically,
could the commander’s mentioning them to the admiral really be all it took to
bring them back?”

“I don’t
know. Maybe,” Dylan said. “Who knows?”

“I was
hoping you might ask me that.”

“Uh oh,” he
said, looking down at her. “I think I’m in trouble now.”

“What does
that mean?” she asked defensively, but with a smile.

“That
depends on
why
you were hoping I’d ask you that.”

She turned
back to him and wrapped her arms around his waist again, and her eyes met his
as she explained. “I was hoping you’d ask me that because I know someone who
might be able to figure it out for you.”

“I was
right. I am in trouble.”

“Come on, Dylan.
I’m serious.”

He drew a
deep breath and exhaled audibly, then asked, “All right. Who do you know that
might be able to figure it out for me?”

“Loson Min’para.”

“And who is
Loson Min’para?”

“He’s a man
I knew on Cirra. He...”

“Oh really?”
Dylan asked playfully.

“Yeah, he...”

“A man you
knew on Cirra, huh. Hmm. I don’t seem to remember you ever mentioning him
before. Just how well did you know this man you knew on Cirra?”

“Oh, stop
it,” she said, slapping his arm and smiling up at him. “It’s not like that at
all and you know it.”

“Okay,” he
said, laughing. “I’m sorry. So, who is he? When did you meet him?”

“I met him about
eight months ago when I was doing research for my thesis. Then I ran into him
again just after I resigned from Solfleet. Remember I told you about that trip
I took to Corietta City?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s
where he lives. He’s a professor in the sciences department at Corietta
Provincial University. I’m sure I must have mentioned him to you before.”

“I don’t
think so.”

“Well
anyway, if anyone can help, I’m sure he can.”

“How can he...
Whoa, wait a minute.” He gently freed himself from her embrace and gulped down
another mouthful of water as he walked across the room, then turned back and
faced her from in front of the refrigerator. “What subject in the university’s
sciences department is he a professor of, exactly?” he asked, suspicious of
what the answer might be.

She sighed
as her gaze fell to the floor between them. “He’s head of the Mentalist Studies
department,” she reluctantly revealed.

“Beth,”
Dylan responded patiently, briefly rolling his eyes. “You know how I feel about
people messing around in my head.”

“I know, but...”

“That
especially
includes telepaths.”

“He’s not
just a telepath. He’s a mentalist priest of the highest level. He won’t...”

“I don’t
care if he’s one of the Cirran gods themselves, Beth,” he proclaimed. He
finished his water with one last gulp, then set the glass in the sink as he went
on to explain, “I’m not letting any arguably psychotic religious fanatic wander
through my mind looking for monsters.”

“He’s not a
psychotic religious fanatic!” she insisted. “He’s an accomplished mentalist!
Why can’t you at least let him try? If he can help you to...”

“No, Beth! I’m
sorry, but I’m not comfortable with the idea.” He leaned back against the sink
and crossed his arms in front of him. “Besides, I couldn’t go back to Cirra now
even if I wanted to. I’ve got orders coming any day now.”

“You don’t
have to go back to Cirra,” she told him. “Professor Min’para is here on the
station. He’ll be attending the banquet tomorrow night.”

Dylan
wavered for a moment, but quickly caught himself. His mind was made up. “No way,
Beth,” he told her with finality, shaking his head and looking her in the eye. “I’m
sorry.”

She went to him
and laid her hands gently on his shoulders. He uncrossed his arms and took her
by the waist and pulled her close as she gazed up at him through sad, doe-like
eyes and pouted like a child. “Promise me you’ll at least think about it before
the banquet?” she pleaded.

Dylan
sighed. How could he say ‘no’ to that face? “All right. I promise I’ll
think
about it. But don’t count on me changing my mind.”

She smiled. “Fair
enough.”

She kissed
him, then retreated toward the window, pulling him along with her. She kissed
him again. And again. He responded, and as their ever-fervent passion began to
smolder once more, he stepped between her legs and gently laid her back on the
window. He opened her shirt and slid his hands up over her breasts, stroking
her nipples with his thumbs as they kissed. But just as he felt her tugging
down on his shorts, the darkness behind his eyelids lightened. He opened his
eyes and looked outside.

“We should
go back to bed,” he whispered.

“Why?” she
asked between heavy breaths. “What’s wrong with right here?”

“Nothing, if
you don’t mind an audience.”

Beth looked
up at him, then cocked her head to get a look at what he was staring at. “Oh my
god!” she yelped, pushing him off her as she scurried away from the window, out
of view of anyone who might have been peering out through the windows of the
old astrobus that was drifting slowly by not more than a hundred meters off the
station.