“Some of my property-that Aranimas took when I came aboard.”
“The key? Was that yours?”
“You know about it?”
“Aranimas showed it to me. Is that where it’s hidden?”
“According to Alpha.”
“Is it important?”
“I think so.”
“Then let’s get it and get out of here,” she said anxiously.
Wondering what was keeping Alpha and Wolruf, Derec slowly turned back to the floor grid. He checked the second tile, stole a glance back over his shoulder at her, then moved crabwise to the right to try a third.
“I can look for the key and listen at the same time,” he said, attaching the stylus to the next tile. “Can’t you tell me what you know about me?”
If she gave an answer, Derec never heard it. One moment he was starting to lift the tile, and the next there was a flash, a roaring sound, and a tremendous wash of heat. Something heavy struck Derec across the back and he toppled forward, catching the hard edge of the tile across his chest and driving the air from his lungs. His mind had time to think one word-booby trap-before it retreated from the fury to a dark, quiet recess where it would not be disturbed.
Chapter 13. Rockliffe Station
Soft-edged images drifted through a dreamlike haze. A sea of light surrounded Derec, buoying him up. He was as transparent as glass, as inconsequential as the wind. His consciousness resided on a mote of dust, floating on gentle currents of time.
Faceless figures floated there with him. Some drew near as though aware of him, only to turn away again and withdraw. The only sounds were the fragrance-songs of flowers and the color-songs of sunsets, and those played in his head without understanding.
None of it seemed to make sense, and yet he did not care. He only thought that after everything that had happened, all that he had survived, it would be a terrible disappointment to be dead.
After a time, his body returned to him. He was still floating, still adrift, but his consciousness again inhabited its familiar place, filled its familiar space. But his thoughts were as sluggish as his limbs, as though the burdens of once again managing his body’s functions had overwhelmed the simple processes of his mind.
Presently he became aware that the dreamlike world of light and shadow which he was inhabiting existed entirely within himself. If he chose to, he could open his eyes to the larger world beyond, to survey it, to enter it. He was certain that when he saw that world he would know his place in it, would know then who and what he was. But he would pay a price in peace and silence, and that was too high a price to pay.
No, Derec thought firmly.There are limits. I don’t want to see it, he told himself.I don’t want to know.
Time passed, and the enveloping womb of solitude slowly became a prison. Silence became deafness. Stillness became death. Whether because he was healed or haunted, what he had was not enough.
The larger world outside himself still beckoned. It was not a friendly world, he knew. At best it was indifferent to him. Unlike the gentle currents that had borne him as he healed, the larger world was filled with forces that could bear him along like driftwood in the spume of a breaking wave.
But he was not without power himself. Perhaps he could not turn back the wave, but he could ride it, and set his own course.
It was that realization which freed him. He saw that he was not a prisoner, and never had been. There were five doors through which he could free himself-the five doors of his senses. All were unlocked, waiting only his touch to swing open and let the world in and himself out.
And he would open them, he knew. But not yet. Not until he had floated with the gentle currents awhile longer. For if he could leave whenever he chose to, then the womb of solitude was not such an unpleasant place to be after all-
The first door Derec tried to open was hearing. At first he wondered if he had succeeded, for the silence without was as complete as the silence within. Then he became aware of the faint rhythmic sound of his own breathing. It was a small step, but it was the first information to come from outside his cocoon in what felt like a very long time.
Experimentally, Derec opened his eyes a crack, and immediately closed them again. The world outside was disturbingly familiar. He was floating enveloped in light-light that was somehow bright without being harsh. A faceless shadow, tall and slender, moved gracefully through the haze which seemed to surround him.
Reality had been inverted. The dream had become reality, or the dream world and the real world were one and the same. It seemed like some sort of perverse trick, one in spirit with a “present” which turns out to be a series of ever smaller empty boxes. Would every doorway lead to the same place? Would each step he took only hold him more firmly where he was?
“Good morning.”
Derec was puzzled at the sound of another voice. If he was alone, then he had to be the one who had spoken. But he had not spoken, and so he was not alone. But if he was not alone, then he could not still be inside his dream world, and what he had seen when he had opened his eyes must be real.
But if it was real, then he was alive. He tried to remember the last incontrovertibly real thing he had known. It was a difficult business, remembering. There had been sunsets and flower-songs, but they had not been real. Before that… before that…
Before that there had been a terrible moment, a moment so full of surprise and pain that even in fleeing it, he had brought it inside his cocoon. He had transformed the eruption into the blossoming of a flower, the flame into the colors of a spectacular sunset. Then he had replayed the moment endlessly to render it harmless.
Yes! The last real thing he had known had been the explosion.
Derec opened his eyes once more to the light. A shadow loomed over him, faceless and nearly formless, as before. He tried to reach out and touch it, but his limbs would not obey.
“Turn off the sterilization field,” the voice said, and the haze of light vanished. The shadow became the copper-colored head and clothed torso of a robot. The robot was gazing solicitously down at him. “Good morning,” it repeated. “Please don’t try to move.”
Derec’s mind was slowly working its way backward from the explosion. He understood that he was no longer in the command center. The robot hovering over him was not Alpha. Which meant-
“Aranimas got his robots,” Derec croaked.
“Excuse me, sir?”
“He won,” Derec whispered. “I didn’t get away.”
“Sir?”
“Tell Aranimas I won’t stop trying-”
“Sir, I would be happy to deliver the message for you. However, the person you named is unknown to me. Where may this individual be found?”
“Aranimas is the ship’s boss-”
“This individual was a member of the ship’s company?”
“Yes-” The robot’s responses were beginning to puzzle Derec.
“Sir, I regret to inform you that no person of that name was found when the paramedics boarded-”
“I’m not on the ship?”
“You are resting on a therapeutic diamagnetic force field, more commonly known as an airbed. The airbed is in the Intensive Care Ward of the hospital at Rockliffe Station.”
The wave of relief that swept through Derec on hearing those words seemed to take all his energy with it. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to float on the gentle currents of sleep once more. Distantly, he heard voices, but could not rouse himself to think about what they were saying.
“He is fatigued,” the robot said.
“We need his assistance,” a new voice answered.
“Our needs are less pressing than his own,” the robot said. “We will wait.”
The next time Derec awoke, the copper-skinned robot was again nearby.
“Good evening,” it said, coming to his side. “How are you feeling?”
Derec managed an anemic smile. “I was just lying here thinking about all the times in the last week that I closed my eyes one place and opened them somewhere else. Every time it happened I found myself in worse surroundings and deeper trouble-until the first time I woke up here.”