They followed Jez out into the cool early summer twilight on North Market Street, with their new companion remained in tow.
“I’ll tell you what,” Jez finally said, “I’ve never had a drink in my life, but I could go for a stiff one.”
“Ditto on that,” said Mireia, “Sparky?”
Bernard hesitated. There was one thought on his mind, and it was something he knew they wouldn’t want to hear, but he couldn’t think of a reason to hide it, either. “This is going to sound really crazy.”
“Try us,” Jez said.
He drew a breath; and, after another moment’s hesitation, he said cautiously, “What if I told you . . . that I remembered Gai’en. Even before today.”
They all stopped in their tracks. When he tried to continue, Mireia grabbed his shoulder, squeezing it as she begged him, “Please tell me you have a terrible sense of humor. God-like aliens are hard enough to believe in on their own.”
Turning as he pried her hand away, he said, “He’s a character in the stories I tell ‘Dessa. Sort of an omnipotent demi-god with a childlike penchant for mischief.”
Loren’s eyes turned wide. “Shit, you do remember that thing. At least from what I’ve heard. They say it mostly keeps to itself, but stirs up trouble now and again for its own mysterious reasons.”
Jez set her hands on her hips and demanded, “Well, is there anything else you’ve accidentally remembered? Because now would be a great time to tell us.”
He shook his head, “I really couldn’t tell ya, Jez. At this point, I couldn’t even tell you what’s real and what isn’t, although my guess is that I’m really just getting to the good part of a spectacular hallucination, and I’m speaking utter nonsense.”
“If you are, then so am I,” she said, “and I should walk myself down to MUSC.”
Mireia chimed in, “Right behind you!”
He raised his hands, pleading, “But how do I know y’all really said that?”
Loren said, “If ya’ll’re losing yer minds, that makes four of us. It ain’t all bad, though. There’s some really great stuff that you’re definitely going to like, but this ain’t the time or place for it.”
Mireia waved her hand in a motion that begged him not to go on. “I think we have enough to consider.”
Bernard continued walking, and they followed, until something occurred to him and he fell back in step with Loren. “There’s just one more thing I want to know.”
Loren’s brows rose worriedly, but he asked, “What’s that?”
“Does my dad know about all of this?”
“No.” He looked relieved. “Only a handful of people know, so he wouldn’t be told unless there was a need for his protection and yours.”
“Do you . . . know why he left?”
Loren sucked in a breath. “Matter of fact . . . everyone does.”
“ ‘Everyone?’ ”
“It was such a rare case that it’s been referenced during training ever since. He found out about us by accident, you see—walked in on Sam Lurizek—and he was very lucky she’s got a level head, because she could have had his memory wiped. The problem, you see, is that on top of losing a whole day of his life, having one’s memory altered traditionally can cause serious brain damage, which has to be masked as something mundane. Your mother would have gotten a call from a hospital, saying he was in a coma after a major accident. He’d’ve come back around and gone back to his normal life, but he’d never be the same. Sam and Danny didn’t want that for him, so they offered him an alternative option, and he chose to join us.
“Unfortunately, he panicked when he found out about our, um, invisible enemies, and it’s said that he left to protect his family. If that’s not a satisfying answer, rest assured it’s a subject of controversy throughout the Agency. Some people think he’s a coward for fleeing, and some people think he’s a hero who made a difficult choice for the greater good. Either way, he’s very well thought of as a person for his efforts since.
“I don’t know what Terrence told his wife. I understand that he never talks about it, not even to his closest friends. I personally think it was a drastic move. It is possible to work for us and still live a normal life. Nine times out of ten, for most positions, you’re not asked to do much more than take a business trip, or perform a service for someone in need of your particular skill set or assignment. Some jobs require you to fabricate records now and then—which is shady, yes, but I think you’ll understand our position, soon enough. The important part is that he left to keep you all safe.”
“Then why didn’t he come back?” Bernard asked, “He would have known about Nightmare, right?”
“Not necessarily,” Loren said, “Around the time Nightmare came about, he was being transferred off-world. Since it was considered Daniel’s case, he wouldn’t have been told anything.”
“He was head of our Public Relations department for a while, and gained most of his current popularity during that time. He did a lot to improve our Agency’s relations with our host planet, and provide better lives for refugees. Practically everyone who works for us has either met him at some point, or else is familiar with his work. Anyone who ever got accepted or denied for immigration during that time would have at least seen his signature. He stepped down a while back, and since humans are offered two-to-four years sabbatical leave, I imagine he came back to this country; though, for his sake and mine, I wouldn’t know about it unless I needed to.”
“Okay,” Bernard said, “Then why couldn’t they send him to do what you’re doing? It seems like he’d be good at it.”
Loren glanced up at the sky, smiling sympathetically, “You want to know why he was never sent back here. I asked the same question—why me? He was the natural choice for the job, but I’m told there were concerns that he’s too emotionally close to you. In your best interest, he might not tell you enough, or interfere with what you need to do, and that could go very badly.”
Mireia said, “You still haven’t told us what we’re going to do.”
Loren shook his head, “We need walls and privacy, and I’m hoping my partner will be back at the hotel, by now. She’s supposed to be flying in from Johannesburg today. She’s also supposed to have my new ID, and hopefully she’ll know what became of my Civic VX. I liked that car, and I want it back. The thing is a masterpiece of reliability and gas mileage.”
Whatever Mireia said, Bernard didn’t hear it.
Then he realized he couldn’t hear it. Nor himself, nor anyone else.
Her lips were moving, but there was no sound. She faltered, her fingertips moving to her throat in shock.
There was no sound, anywhere.
Not from the evening birds, passing cars, or the couple down the street with the screaming baby.
Jez lunged at Loren.
Then everything went dark.
Everything.
One moment they were walking down the street, and the next they were standing in total darkness.
Slowly, a pinkish glow appeared in the nearest streetlights.
Jez had fallen short of her assault, fingers grasping anxiously at her sides as she turned with the rest of them, staring at the lights.
The air pressure had dropped. The wind had stopped. There were no people, no cars, no bikes or horses; just the three of them, alone on an empty North Market Street, near one of the entrances to the market, which had already closed for the night. It was like being in a vacuum.
She reached up and ran her hand along a decorative flag hanging outside a nearby shop. It moved oddly, as though weighted, and dropped without flowing. There was no air at all.
Yet, they were breathing.
Bernard walked to the road cautiously, looking around for some sign of anything that might help him get his bearings. There was nothing. “Everything is gone.”
Loren grabbed his wrist. “Don’t go far.”
Mireia turned to Loren and asked, “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “But we should stick together.”
Jez suddenly gasped, backing toward them. She fumbled for Mireia’s arm and latched onto it.
A dark figure walked toward them, from the blackened opening to the corridor of the Rainbow Market shopping center. It moved with absolute surety, with a toe-heel footfall more like that of an animal than a person. Its fingers tracing the ironwork entryway with an air of curiosity. It glanced up, hesitated, and then its eyes locked on Bernard.
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A chill shot up his spine like an electric shock.
The figure moved toward him. Its lips parted in a soft snarl, its features weathered and scarred, its eyes cold. It shoved its hands into pockets set in matte black pants of an unfamiliar material, complimented by a worn matte black jacket of some pebbled leather. Ragged black feathers draped from the arms and flowed from the lower back.
It rasped in a strange tongue with short syllables that lilted and rolled in a staccato rhythm, then tilted its head, studying them. It spoke again, in a distinctly different tongue.
Loren responded.
They exchanged words, the stranger speaking in low, graveled tones.
Bernard nudged Loren’s arm, “What’s it saying?”
“He asked what plane we’re on, and I told him I didn’t know.”
It gazed into Bernard’s eyes once more, and for the first time, Bernard realized he was looking at himself. Then, in a hoarse growl that barely sounded like English, the Other said, “I see. It’s you.” He gestured around them crassly. “See what they’ve wrought us. The stupid Nasu tried to save us, only to kill us. Too little. Too late. That’s what they do. Pay attention, for they will not. The fools claim they have everything under control. Do you know what a scouring event looks like? Have they told you about 1949? The time that Ryozae presence on Earth drew the Ilaysian forces, lords and masters of Xal Enjhi. onto a bunch of helpless unsuspecting humans? Do you honestly believe they would just . . . give up and go home, after that?”
Loren answered, “Of course not. We can neither confirm nor deny their presence, but the point is to keep anything like the incident in '49 from happening again. Meanwhile our immigration program means that our people have a place where they are no longer hunted or killed, if not by our own, then by the Reapers, or the Ilaysian Patrol. For the first time we can draw breath without fear.”
The Other tilted his head, animal-like, studying Loren. Then it approached Bernard, fingers reaching for his face.
Unnerved, Bernard took a step back.
“What's it worth,” the Other asked him, “if the Patrol grows tired of this game, and calls upon its hoard—its bioengineered spies that can hide in the air you breathe? Everything you are, suddenly gone. Scoured clean.” It nodded at Loren. “Is their freedom worth that price?”
“Maxwell Zháo!” A female voice cried.
Bernard hesitated, unsure if he was being addressed by a name he hasn’t used since he was a toddler, but the Other’s lips twisted as he turned to the new voice, calling out, “You’ve already failed!”
The woman came striding toward them out of the darkness, “This time, we operate on our own terms, Max. You’d best be on your way.”
The ugly, eerie visage of the Other turned back to Bernard, growling, “We always front the bill.”
“On your way!” the woman barked.
Sneering, the Other walked past them.
The woman watched him, then called out, “Is that Jjae’r hide?”
The figure paused. Then its voice growled into the darkness, “I won her fairly and wear her with honor.”
“Our bodies are sacred, you know that. Even those of us who have taken human form recognize that, no matter what oath or creed they live by. You never take from us unless it is offered, and you never wear it so casually. That sai’raa—that woman’s skin has been through hell.”
“Yours is not the only way things are done.”
It continued walking, until it vanished into the shadows.
Mireia spoke first, “What the hell was that?”
Jez followed with, “Where the fuck are we?”
Bernard was shaken and speechless. His blood felt cold, his head light and his body heavy.
Loren stepped toward the woman, “Can you get us out of here, Sam?”
She nodded, “This is a microdimension that my brother created for his own use. I don’t know how you got here, but he can send you home just as easily. And that . . . that was a possible path Bernard might have taken. Given the circumstances, I suppose it was only logical to see something like that.”
Jez shrieked, “You call that thing logical?”
“A logical possibility, yes,” Sam said plainly, “If not the most reasonable version of him we could have met. It doesn’t surprise me anymore, that’s why I gambled on him answering to his other name, but it’s a shame you had to see that.” She pointed at Bernard, her tone becoming serious, “I don’t care what path you walk or whose oath you take, don’t ever let me catch you wearing someone else’s skin like that.”
“S—someone else’s—” Bernard began, bewildered, then he shook his head, “That wasn’t me. I don’t know what the fuck that was, but it wasn’t me. And don’t worry. I don’t plan on ever becoming that.”
She closed her eyes, sighed, and said, “It wasn’t real. I know that, but . . . it was deeply crude and upsetting, and not in the same way you might think. It’s something you’ll understand after you’ve been around us for a while.”
Jez had her arms crossed uncomfortably, still staring at the spot where the figure had disappeared, “Is any of this real?”
“Yes, of course,” Sam told her, “But think of that one as no more than a ghost. A shadow of what might have been. There countless possibilities, but you can only exist in one stream. One reality. What you saw was no more than a ripple. Since it was my brother who made this realm, and I’m here with you, the conditions appear to have been ripe for such an event.”
Mireia was shaking her head, “If you people can do all of this, then you don’t need us.”
The lights shifted, brightening towards a new figure as it approached them.
Around nine feet tall at the shoulders, the thing was vaguely shaped like a dinosaur, with a horned nose and a short pair of twin crests, three clawed fingers on each hand, tridactyl feet and a smooth stride. A long, dark, fur-covered tail whipped the air behind it as it moved, though it made no sound.
Its face had a more mammalian structure: it had pointed ears, though the left one was largely missing, and it was almost covered in fur. Triangular scale-like structures, like those of a pangolin, covered part of its upper legs. It appeared to lack fur on the backs of its thighs, on its hands and the insides of its arms, down the length of its belly, and the back of its neck, where it bore a row of short triangular spines interspersed with glowing lights, attached with thin, dark strapping.
As it neared, Bernard thought he could make out a series of crystals within the lights, but it was difficult to tell. The same lights appeared over the backs of its hands, bound in place by a similar method.
Sam gestured, “This is my brother, Reio-Taii Raik, one of the Sorcerers of Xal Enjhi. Or Taii, as most people call him.”
Taii’s head bobbed, and he spoke to Mireia in a strange, warbling voice, “Great power comes at the cost of governance, no matter what sort of power it is. Remember that. Our abilities are granted and governed under contract. We are allowed the occasional miracle, once in a great long span, but we have important roles and strict rules. Yours is a mundane struggle, so it is not for us to interfere.”
Jez asked, “So, this Gai’en thing . . . it’s real? Really really real?”
The strange creature’s head bobbed again, but Sam raised a hand, stopping him, and said, “And Nightmare, and unfortunately Dark. Or 4973821-lamda-b and 4973897-rho-z, if you prefer our best Terran translation of their original names. We still don’t know what they were. They had abilities we’d never seen before, and it was years before anyone even got a good look at Dark. The only word we had to go on was Bernard’s. There aren’t any known creatures in our realm that look like the ones he described, nor did we think there could be any lab advanced enough to create them. A human-like dragon and a living shadow? It sounded like something out of a cartoon. But they were real. With physical bodies and genetic material that’s still being studied.
“Bernard was abducted no less than eight times. Five in particular were notably damaging, and we’re still not sure how many other times you came into contact with them. As far as we know, Nightmare and Dark were conducting experiments and logging results, mostly likely because it was the only lifestyle they’d ever known, and the universe beyond their original lab was a novel curiosity to them. Their results and our own analyses are currently locked away in our offworld headquarters.
“The damage they caused had lasting affects, to say nothing of the experiments they ran. By the time we were finally rid of them, there were a lot of concerns for your futures—all of you. Our best option to offer the care you all needed and avoid future security risks would have been to move you off-world.
“Your families of course wouldn’t have let you go alone, and some of them would have needed to relocate, anyway—but how do you explain the sudden disappearance of three families? That’s why we petitioned Lord Gai’en to give you back your normal lives—the only being we know of by name that could have pulled it all off—I can see this isn’t news to you.” She smiled sympathetically. “It’s strange to us, as well. Gai’en disappeared after the Fall of Ryozauggex, and no one expected to see it again so soon. My family members,” she patted Taii’s forearm, “won’t tell me what they offered it in exchange for the miracle.” She looked back at Bernard and the others, “And if you want to know what happened to Nightmare and Dark, Bernard, you’d have to ask Danny. They’re dead, but I think he enjoys telling the story.
“Neither I nor my husband are planning to meet your parents, as it could cause them to remember us, so it’s best if you never mention us. Under the circumstances, however, several Ryozae agents working in the area have been alerted to expect you for safety reasons, so don’t be surprised if you get any awkward questions, and do the best you can to deflect them. They’re not supposed to ask, but some of them love to gossip, and they’re nosy.”
Loren crossed his arms, “I thought this was a Shadow Operation?”
Bernard muttered, “I thought we were going to go sit down. . . .”
Sam’s head tilted slightly, “You do look especially pale, dear.”
The glow around Taii began to intensify, and he asked, “Are you finished here, Samra?”
“Just a moment!” Mireia exclaimed, “What’s all this Patrol stuff got to do with us? Are those the bioengineered things you were talking about earlier?”
“Ah!” Sam frowned. “Of course. You do need to know about that.”
“Samra. . . .” Taii warned her, a low growl creeping into his voice, “Be quick.”
“I know,” she said, “But this is important,” she turned back to the group, “They are, just as the Other Bernard suggested—”
“The thing that wasn’t me,” Bernard corrected her.
“But it was you, even if it isn’t you now. The only thing that separates you is circumstance. There will be time to discuss this later, but that isn’t a luxury we have tonight. I must be absolutely sure you know what we’re dealing with.
“As you hopefully realize by this point, ETHICS is both a planetary protection program and immigration management network, which serves to protect our people as they hide among yours, as well as maintaining a minimalized impact on your world. ETHICS also keeps a watch for signs of Ilaysian activity on this planet. To date, none has been found, but we like to play it safe, particularly where the Ilaysian Patrol is concerned. They don’t take kindly to traffic leaving our realm, Xal Enjhi, and especially not if it’s headed for Earth.
“We’re Terran in origin, so the program has become increasingly geared toward offering refugees a safe haven from the instability of our home realm. Earth-like planets are nearly un-heard of, so even those who don’t work for the Agency will often back its efforts.
“It isn’t my job to brief you—that’s going to be Loren—but I do want to be sure you three to understand where we’re coming from. We were supposed to leave you all be, to live your lives in peace, but we need you, or so they tell me. Danny will be handling any data Loren gives him, and communicating with his supervisor, since he’s best suited for both tasks. He’s too analytical to be the kind of help you need, right now, and I don’t like talking to his supervisor. But if you need anything else, I’ll be happy to step in.”
“Our time is short, Samra,” Taii said, “I cannot support this field much longer. Too many variables. Too many vibrations. They have already destabilized it once. It will take a lot of energy to send them home, and I still wish to speak with you.”
She rapped his furry arm with the back of her hand, “Of course, but whose idea was it to set the field here?”
He tilted his head, seeming to scoff at her, “Diuah-rrundi luriin magahii'si xa'ilou. They should have passed through.”
She folded her hands and addressed the group with a short, formal bow. “You know how to reach me. Good luck.”
The lights went out.
Everything went dark.
The lights of the city filtered through a curtain behind them. A cool breeze flowed from the vents of the unit humming below it.
They were in their own hotel room.