Dreams Manifest (The Depths of Memory Book 2) Read online

  "I doubt they've ever been cleaner, Thad. Still, you have to eat sometime, son."

  Terem smiled at being called his pseudonym 'Thad,' a reminder of his success in recreating himself post Zebio Sept and after the horrors of the Temples. "Oh, I will. The cook always sets a little aside for me," Terem replied.

  "I'm sure he does. Look, you should know that all the Jonquin have noticed how dedicated you are to your work, and how impressed everyone is with you because of that," Treus stated. "It's rare to find hired help with such dedication."

  It was pure self-interest, although Treus didn't need to know that. The harder Terem worked, the less often he noticed the voices. They were the only reminders of the nightmares he'd suffered.

  "Thank you, sir. That's very kind of you to say so," Terem replied.

  Treus nodded. "It's a simple truth. There's just one problem."

  Terem felt a sinking feeling inside. "What's that, sir?"

  "It's just that you work so hard and such long hours, no one has had much of a chance to get to know you very well," Treus replied.

  Which I have to do, Terem thought to himself, to protect the Jonquin and myself. "You aren't kidding," whispered the unbidden voices. The weirdest ideas would come into his head when he was with people. He would feel with total and complete certainty that there was something wrong with them and that they needed to be eradicated permanently. Not engaging others, avoiding talking, and staying busy seemed to ameliorate the problem.

  "I guess I'm a bit shy, is all," Terem offered, a pitiful excuse even to himself.

  "I understand," Treus continued. "Just break for meals with everyone, that's all I ask, okay? You don't even have to say much, just be there, smile back at people, and make some small talk. It'll help you fit in better."

  "I'll make an effort," Terem replied, unsure if he meant it.

  "You'll do great," Treus smiled at him. "I'm gonna leave you to it. I still have to make sure we're locked up for the evening."

  "Have a good night!" Terem replied.

  Treus started to close the barn door and then stopped. "Oh, I almost forgot! A Guardian is inside the main hall, catching everyone at dinner for a quick scan. Should I tell her you'll be right in?"

  Time's up. We told you it wouldn't last. "Is there a problem in the area?" Terem asked.

  "No, no. Sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you. We have a Guardian stop by every few weeks and check up on us all, make sure everyone's healthy and what not. Do they do it differently in the cities?"

  "Yeah. People are scanned on the street while they're going about their business. You'd never even notice unless you were watching the Guardians. Sometimes, when someone hasn't been logged with a scan for a few weeks, they'll come by your Sept Hall," Terem explained.

  Not that you'd know anything about that, Terem, would you?

  "Makes sense," Treus explained. "They visit us in the evening because we're all accounted for and in one spot, so it's easier and quicker for them."

  Terem nodded understanding. "You know, I'm going to be just a little bit longer on this. Do you think it'd be too much trouble to ask the Guardian to come out here?" Terem felt one of the voices ask through his mouth.

  "Sure, I can ask. Doubt it will be a problem. Just stay here until the Guardian comes and finds you, all right? I don't want her having a fit cause she has to hunt someone down."

  "I'll wait right here," Terem replied. "Have a good night, sir."

  "Good evening, Thad," Treus answered and then pulled the door shut behind him.

  Terem waited, pacing back and forth in the barn.

  "What am I going to do?" he asked himself. "I like it here. I don't want to have to hurt everyone."

  There is another way. Trust us.

  Minutes later the door scraped open again, revealing a short, blonde female Guardian, dressed in their standard green and gray multi-hued garb. Terem noted that she didn't have her scanner in her hand at the moment. Luck was with him.

  He smiled broadly at her. "Thanks so much for stopping by out here. I just managed to get everything finished up."

  She shrugged. "Makes no difference to me. This barn is on my way out."

  Terem watched her pull out a device from her pocket. That's a medical scanner. She'll know you're infected within three or four minutes of activation. "So, you travel back to ... wherever ... from here?" he asked.

  "I'm stationed out of an outpost to the south of here. It's a few hours by horse," she explained.

  "You came on horseback?" he asked. "Why didn't you stable the mare for the day?"

  "No bother. I don't ever stay long. I just let her graze a bit inside the front gate while I get things taken care of." She waited for the scanner's results.

  No more time. "I was wondering if you could do something for me?" the voices asked.

  "What?" asked the Guardian.

  "I need to get a message out to an old acquaintance."

  The Guardian looked up at him, a confused expression on her face. "I don't usually handle mail, but as the Jonquin have always been nice to me, I'll see what I can do for you. Where's the message?"

  "Well, it's not something for them to read, per se. It's something they need to see an example of to understand."

  Terem noticed a red light began flashing on the scanner's screen. The Guardian glanced down, and then back up at him. All of her lassitude was suddenly replaced by a keen, calculated stance.

  "An example of what?" she asked, sliding the scanner back into her pocket. She started to slowly reach for her pulse weapon with her left hand.

  He reached out and grabbed her by the throat, while also pinning her left arm to her side with his right hand. The thing that once was Terem acted, well beyond the reaction speed the Guardian possessed. She struggled but was unable to move or breathe as his digits elongated, encircling the Guardian's neck. She lost the ability to breathe as he crushed her windpipe. He smiled, watching her eyes fill with agonizing panic.

  "Death. Would you like to help me?"

  Chapter 3

  As Brague took a deep breath, he tried to classify the rank smell of planet Oncorko. This was the first planet on his Evaluation list and the only planet in the Oncor solar system. As he stood on a small hill surveying the local landscape, he reflected that it had not lived up to his expectations. There were elements of musk to the air, which would not in and of themselves have qualified for the 'rank' descriptor. However, to the musk was added a stale, sulfuric smell that unfortunately managed to mask all other possible odors. According to Juggernaut cartography, the last time the planet had been surveyed it did not have this problem with disagreeable odors. Some less sensitive species might not have noticed the smell, but to Brague it was overpowering.

  He'd been on the planet nearly two full local solar days and had decided to abandon it as an Evaluation option. However, since he was here, Brague directed a regiment towards identifying the problem. Their base camp was at the far end of the hill, and Brague could see troops working to solve the puzzle. It wasn't his job or responsibility to research the situation, but he took it personally and wouldn't leave without correcting the planetary record's error. Inaccuracies in the database made the already difficult Selectors work even harder. Besides, this gave him an opportunity to discover what had modified this planet's ecology. This newfound curiosity motivated Brague beyond only pleasing the Queens, not that he'd ever admit to such a breach of decorum publicly, of course. Politically speaking, satisfying the Queens was always the top priority of all Juggernaut.

  Something most Juggernaut didn't know was that the job of the Selectors went beyond an affinity for complicated math and an eye for detail. Selectors were also bred to be hypersensitive to their environment, much the same way the Queens were. Knowing what would offend the sensibilities of a Queen was just as important as meeting all of the technical specifications of a given project. Aesthetics mattered to them, even though it wasn't widely known, much less discussed openly. The issues of Queens were never di
scussed in polite company, lest one not show proper respect for their pre-eminence.

  Brague noticed Sergeant Wul approaching and hoped this meant he had something worthwhile to report. Brague had threatened to demote Wul if he attempted to inform him of more local geology or climate patterns, so this must mean a real breakthrough. Brague took a few moments to imagine reassigning Sergeant Wul to a sanitation crew, chittering in amusement to himself. Wul's utter humiliation would be a life-long sentence. Sergeant Wul stopped a few steps respectfully away, waiting for Brague's signal to report.

  After a satisfying pause, Brague addressed Wul. "Sergeant. I take it you have something useful to report?"

  Instead of talking, Wul activated the handheld projector he carried. Immediately a globe appeared, representing Oncorco's land and water masses through color-coded topographical markings. The planet rotated, stopping on the eastern hemisphere, drawing Brague's attention to a point near the coastline.

  "As I mentioned before, the Huzzen attempted colonization of this planet two hundred and thirty Hegemonic cycles ago. The Hegemony's last survey here took place just four years after the Huzzen arrived. No particular interest was taken in them at the time, which as it turns out, was unfortunate," Sergeant Wul narrated matter-of-factly. He paused briefly, giving Brague a chance to ask questions without interrupting. As none of this was new news, Brague awaited the rest of Wul's discovery with marked impatience.

  "At some point in their travels, they picked up food or durables that were infested with dormant pukka eggs." Wul changed the display to a series of pukka images at differing stages of their life cycle. Pictures of tiny eggs morphed into small, adolescent worms, then altered into giant slug-like creatures. The graphics displayed their razor-sharp front claws, which they used to attach themselves to their prey so they could eat at a leisurely pace. "This wasn't an immediate problem, as you have likely guessed. Pukka eggs require a short period of dry heat to mature, and on this planet, the humidity wouldn't allow for the cycle to complete. This is a threat that could have been quickly eliminated while still in dormant form, but the Huzzen had neither the technology to detect the eggs nor the ability to destroy them."

  At this point in the story, Brague was smiling. He had adult pukka in his labs, having extensively studied the species. Their ability to proliferate wasn't bothersome but combined with teeth that could gnaw through both metal and stone coupled with a carnivore's appetite--a formidable threat to an unprepared and simple settlement.

  "At some point after our last survey, the Huzzen retrieved sealable storage units from their transport vessel. This may or may not be when the pukka eggs were introduced; the infested goods could have been transported at that time or earlier in their colonization. Regardless, items containing pukka eggs were placed inside the storage devices."

  Wul's narration paused as he adjusted the projector, displaying a small domed storage unit with a hinged door. The image spun, showing the rather bland device. Brague waited for Wul to continue, not liking time spent on storage units, which he considered a rudimentary inclusion in the report.

  "These containers not only seal the contents for freshness and added life expectancy, but also work to reduce moisture content. This is generally a good thing for storage units, but most likely, combined with Oncorco's hot days, provided the ideal environment for the pukka eggs to mature. It was only a matter of time until some witless Huzzen opened one of the units, releasing countless adolescent pukka onto Oncorco. It's likely that the entire settlement was consumed within a few days. Perhaps they lasted as long as a sub-Latne, but that isn't likely. No Huzzen remain on Oncorco, so if the pukka didn't annihilate their numbers, something else must have soon after that." Wul spoke all of this in a flat monotone.

  Brague laughed heartily at this, liking a tale where a race of lower beings unleashed a veritable plague upon themselves. He'd observed pukka's eating behavior and knew they preferred eating live prey. Wul switched the projected image back to the globe of Oncorco. Brague didn't care about the details on how the Huzzen had destroyed themselves. After all, lower beings brought about their own downfall. It was just a matter of time.

  "Mature pukka have a reputation for their voracious appetites and a tendency to avoid other adults except while breeding, so it isn't too far of a stretch to assume that the adults quickly spread out in search of other food sources and territories," Wul continued. The image displayed red dots, showing how the species spread across all adjacent landmasses. Brague noted that his present location was included in the red areas of pukka infestation. Species like pukka were not a threat to the Juggernaut, just a mild annoyance.

  "Some time has passed since this infestation," Brague interjected. "How widespread are the current pukka populations, and how does this relate to the current stench?"

  Wul adjusted the image to answer Brague's request, showing pukka clustered around seashores. "Field research has found some old pukka surviving off of crustacean life, as it is abundant in this world and there are no large land animals suitable as its prey. A brief analysis has shown an unusually high level of sulfur in the crustacean's shells. As pukka elimination is primarily gaseous, that would account for the smell," Sergeant Wul concluded.

  "The smell is an unfortunate consequence of the Huzzen's blunder," Brague replied, still smiling. Sergeant Wul didn't react. He stood, as befit his station, awaiting additional orders. Infantry were incredibly useful but also incredibly dull.

  Brague considered his options. It was regrettable that no Huzzen had survived long enough to be destroyed for their impunity. The Hegemonic policy was all encompassing, even handling foreign infestations that ruined planetary ecosystems. The offending invader and any species introducing it, whether deliberately or not, were both ruled toxic to the environment, and thus had to be removed. Prime real estate was just too valuable to waste on giant bugs and the like. Brague would have to be content with ordering the sanitization of Oncorco. With luck, the planet could be certified pukka-free within the next hundred and fifty or so Hegemonic cycles.

  "Sergeant Wul," Brague turned to Wul and addressed him formally. Wul turned off the projector and snapped to attention. "Prepare Oncorco for cleansing. You have two regiments at your command to complete the gross decontamination. Place a warning beacon alerting others to steer clear of this location. Also, send word to Hegemonic command, summarize all that we have discussed and request a science vessel to complete the cleansing process. I think five days should be more than enough time to accomplish this simple task. One ship will stay behind to assist your efforts and return you to the main search force. Do you have any questions?"

  "Only one, Selector Brague," Wul replied confidently. Brague imagined Wul would have an enjoyable time killing full-grown pukka. It would possibly mean the loss of a few troops, considering the limited timeframe and manpower. "May I know the locations and timelines of your subsequent Evaluation candidates so we may catch up with you in as timely a fashion as is possible?"

  Brague guessed Wul hoped to finish the task early, and by knowing Brague's timeline over the next five days could better anticipate the rendezvous location. Although Brague liked Wul's proactive attitude, guessing at a Selector's timeline was useless. Each Evaluation took as long as it took, and the planets were a bit spread out. Transit times alone could double the Evaluation schedule.

  "It won't likely help you, but the next four planets are Bawna, Taloos, Az'Unda, and Keriu. I may stay at each less than a day or over a sub-Latne. There's no way to know in advance. Your best option to catch up with us will be through communiqués to the Fleet Captain." Brague then returned to his personal transport pod, not waiting for additional questions. He had more important things to consider than pukka, amusing though the pest had proved.

  As he returned to the fleet awaiting him above Oncorco, Brague checked his messaging queue. Finding no response from Princess Qwell, he grew anxious, not sure if this was a sign of her faith in him or of disinterest on her part. Brague started
drafting another communiqué to Princess Qwell, including a full status report of Oncorco, so she could see he was making progress on her project and even going out of his way to ensure this planet would be purified for future Hegemonic use. He could only hope she'd maintain confidence in him. In the meantime, he had a mission. Arguably the most important mission of his career: pleasing Princess Qwell.

  Chapter 4

  #BEGIN TRANSMISSION#

  #ROUTING CODE: UNREGISTERED ID, ROAMING COM S8-628#

  #ENCRYPTION: HIGH#

  Bauleel,

  I'm relieved to hear you're on the mend. I'd wondered why I hadn't heard back from you before now, but never imagined something could have happened to you. I can relate that you feel responsible, at least in part, for Terem's escape. Come to think of it, I'm the one that bagged him and brought him to the Technicians when he first started showing signs of plague mutation. It's a shame I didn't just kill him then, eh?

  And Natre, where to begin? You've got to know she's been waiting to assume your post for what, twenty, thirty years now? Although why you gals like to tie yourselves down to those dull Temple walls, I'll never understand. Once you've been away a few days, I'm sure you'll find the change of pace invigorating.

  I wouldn't worry too much about what Natre thinks she knows. She's always been more ambitious than technically competent.

  Be careful what you do share with your wayward Technician Rilte. Sure, he saved your life and kept you from having to deal with Natre face-to-face, but don't forget he's a Temple man first and foremost. If he decides you're not acting in the best interests of Az'Unda ... I'm just saying: have a cleanup plan.

  Keep me updated on your search, and I will assist as soon as I am able. At the moment I'm escorting the Durmah along the Northern Road to Resounding Cliffs. We're about two days out. With Raza's recent orders I will also likely end up accompanying them all the way back to Raven's Call, as I doubt any other Guardians will be available to make the trip.