Territory by Deb2

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CHAPTER TEN
NIGHTMARES

DAY 20, THE NIGHT OF

Julia rubbed Alonzo's back, marveling at how the human body could be so beautiful. Knowing how it worked, what was contained by the smooth skin enhanced her wonder. She ran her hands along his shoulders, kneading the muscles as the pilot forced to play lumberjack sighed with contentment.

"I encountered van Helsing today," Julia began. Alonzo tried to look over his shoulder at her. He grunted as the effort tightened up sore muscles, and resumed the more comfortable position. "Yeah?" Van Helsing wasn't something he'd expected Julia to bring up. "He must be enlarging his social circle."

"*I* initiated contact."
In spite of protests from his overworked body, Alonzo pushed himself up and faced Julia. He was much too pale. Anger and concern vied for precedence in his eyes. "Julia, that is not an intelligent thing to do. He's dangerous."

"You've repeatedly insisted he's harmless." "I've never said he won't defend himself, Julia." "I thought the Terrians are protecting him," she shot back. She decided not to mention the arrows. Alonzo could be unbearably cocky when proven right.

"They are, Julia, but they are not his bodyguards! We don't know this guy, so the less we have to do with him, the better. He won't attack us unprovoked, but we don't know what might provoke him. He's probably crazy."

"No," stated Julia firmly. "He's not insane." She remembered the flat, cold eyes. Van Helsing was, if anything, too sane.

Alonzo inhaled. He slowly released the breath. "No, he's not. He's scared. That's worse."

"That is the impression he gave me," agreed Julia in a somber tone. "It surprised me. Based upon our previous encounters with him, I assumed intense emotions were foreign to him."

"Think he's a chromotilt?"
"That's not likely."
Curiosity prompted a question from Alonzo. "How'd he react?" "He wasn't happy to see me," said Julia honestly. 'Lonz gave a short, mirthless laugh. "I'll bet. How close did you get to him?"

"Not more than 10 meters. The encounter lasted less than five minutes," she added, anticipating the next question. "Van Helsing didn't try to harm me," Julia insisted. And he hadn't; his intent had been to scare her.

Alonzo sighed. "Please just leave van Helsing alone, Julia. Okay? Just stay away from him." Concern had won the battle.

"I will."
"Will you?" Alonzo whispered, eyes sparkling. It was time to kiss and make up, even if there hadn't been much of a fight.

"Pleasant dreams," Julia wished him some sweet time later. She was happily exhausted. Falling to sleep would be easy tonight. The questions and worries of the day were no longer chasing each other through her mind.

"Dreams?" responded the drowsy man beside her. "I don't dream."

"Then I'll dream for both of us."
Alonzo chuckled. "You've been talking to Bess too much. 'I'll dream for both of us'."

~~Alonzo stood next to a cot on which a slender young man slept. He took the pillow from the floor and held it over the man's face until the struggling ceased. As efficiently as with the sensor in the drawer, Alonzo removed a tiny disc from the underside of the man's upper arm. In the tiny white bathroom, he repeated the procedure on himself. It was more difficult; he was left-handed, cutting with his right hand. An unexpected splash of his blood on the basin sickened him. He leaned his forehead against the cool mirror for a moment and then continued his task. The identity discs were switched, the wounds were sealed. He stripped to the skin, stuffing his garments into the refuse hatch and replacing them with fresh ones from the cabinet. Alonzo pinned the collar studs in place. He checked the mirror and saw...

Stars. Hard, bright stars. The ship purred around him. Alonzo left the viewport and walked thru unfamiliar corridors, counting the way to his quarters. Boots rang on metal, a hollow sound. Someone behind him coughed. Alonzo turned, half-waved a greeting to the stranger, a soldier.

He found the assigned cabin/cubicle, dropped his duffle bag on the floor and stretched out on the bunk. He lay there, staring at the low ceiling. After a short time, shouts and the sound of running feet drew him back out into the corridor. Alonzo joined the race for the viewport. The shocked voices of his comrades faded into silence for him, just as the destruction of the station had been silent. He stared, then bolted, his hand to his mouth and forced his way clear, running, hoping to reach the toilet before the vomiting began.~~

"It's the dream again," he thought with relief, and intentionally took himself out of it.

Three dreams. So, disabling the...disabling what? It had worked, and that was good, but--. Alonzo clenched his teeth together. What had worked? Something, he'd done it, everything went exactly as he'd needed it to.

The frustrated dreamer sat up, hugging his knees to his chest, head resting on his forearms, and attempted to recall the dream. The sense of urgency and confinement was gone, replaced by an anguish which threatened to suffocate him. Alonzo held his head up, breathing deeply.

"Oh, God," he said tensely, staring at the tent ceiling. "Oh, God, please, no more."

Julia reached for him, clasping his hand. Alonzo squeezed her hand so tightly she cried out and wrenched it free.

"You said you'd dream for both of us, Julia," he reproached her.

She sat up, alarmed. "Terrians?"
"No Terrians. Stars. It's not the dreamplane. But it doesn't feel like what I remember dreams feeling like."

"Seeing stars could indicate a desire or a compulsion to return to space. You *are* a pilot."

"Not in the dream."
"Alonzo," Julia said, covering his hands with her own, comforting him but protecting herself, "can you remember any more of it? Obviously this dream was a very disturbing experience. And you don't dream normal human dreams. It may be repressed memories surfacing."

"Then I'd remember being a pilot, Julia. I've always been a sleep-jumper. And nothing in my past could make me feel like-- like...I've lost everything."

"Do you recall any details?"
Alonzo shook his head. "No. It got so bad, I just left. I wanted out."

"You left of your own volition?" she asked intently. "You chose to stop dreaming?"

"Yeah. I realized it was the dream again--." He slipped his hands from under Julia's and gripped her arms as if to shake her. "Again, Julia. I've had the dream before."

"Are you certain?"
"Yes. I've had the dream before."
"And you ended it when you wanted to?" "Yeah."
"Is this a lucid dream? Do you control any other aspects of it?"

"If I could control what happens, I'd arrange an entirely different emotional residue."

"Alonzo, maybe you should let the dream play itself out. Maybe you should make an effort to remember it. Once this is out in the open where you can deal with it, there's a good chance the dream will no longer recur."

She didn't realize what she was asking him to do. The 'emotional residue' had been greatly reduced, but Alonzo couldn't forget how strongly he'd been shaken upon waking. How would he be affected if he bore with the dream and remembered?

DAY 21

They'd come to realize the journey south wouldn't be as difficult as it had seemed from Paradise. The forest, as expected, was dense enough to necessitate some clearing or detouring, which cost time and patience. However, the forest was not solid; an aerial view would reveal a speckled pattern of woodland and grassland, the woods predominant. That same view would also reveal the irregularity of the terrain: there were unexpected steep hills and occasional ravines or gorges cut by streams. Avoiding these ate up a lot of travel time. On particularly frustrating days, 15 kilometers got them four or five kilometers further south. Eden Advance meandered across the landscape, sometimes at the river's edge, and sometimes miles away, always following its course south. As the scouts had when traveling north, they made use of the animal trails across the grasslands, and to a lesser extent, thru the forest.

Hunting was good, and easy enough that Morgan brought down a hoofed creature of a size to feed them for three days. It wasn't edible. It grazed on vegetation poisonous to humans, and the poison tainted the animal's flesh. Danziger and his 'gang' acted like Morgan knew the thing was inedible when he shot it.

That night, in the privacy of their tent, Bess convinced her crestfallen husband that the other men were irritable because they lacked meaningful female companionship and were jealous because *he* didn't. She brushed aside his protest that Alonzo had Julia, reminding him Julia was a chromotilt, so she wouldn't be passionate, and maybe that's why Alonzo fell for her like he did: she was a constant challenge.

Next morning, the gang was disappointed to discover their quips and comments rolled off Morgan like water off a duck's back.

DAY 22

Baines scrunched his shoulders up and tucked his head down, looking for all the world like an indecisive turtle. He'd jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket, but his fingers were still cold; the man stood shivering miserably in the rain. Cold front, Yale said. They either burned up or froze. Baines thought nostalgically of the even temperatures of the stations.

He was waiting for van Helsing. Morgan and Devon had been the morning crew. Their guide had named Baines as next contact, early in the afternoon. Baines, alone. Van Helsing had said the tech could bring his gear, which surprised everyone, and gave Baines some comfort.

The tech spat on the ground in disgust. This was the third time ol' 'van' had used him as go-between. Baines fervently hoped they wouldn't be needing the guide much longer. If he could figure out a way to make van Helsing mark him off the liaison list--without endangering himself or the others--he would do it. The man never failed to set Baines's nerves on edge. He was just plain creepy.

A twig snapped and Baines whirled around, searching for van Helsing. He'd materialized maybe 20 feet from the tech, riding one horse and leading the pack animal stripped of its burden. Baines shuddered. How? Van Helsing on foot could have sneaked up and cut his throat, but how did he get so close with horses?

Van Helsing wore a hooded cape much more appropriate for the weather than Baines' jacket and cap. The two men silently regarded one another for a few minutes, during which the tech realized his feet were wet. His socks were squishy.

"Get on," said van Helsing, tugging the saddleless pack animal forward.

"I can't ride a horse!"
"Learn."
"Bareback? How do I get on?" Baines had a dark, heavy feeling he was going to learn, like it or not.

"He's small. Jump, pull yourself up and swing your leg over. This one is extremely docile."

"I think I'd rather drop down on him from a tree," said Baines sarcastically.

Van Helsing shrugged.
"Where are we going?" asked Baines, stalling for time. He didn't expect an answer.

"Hunting."
Baines raised his eyebrows. "Hunting? Hunting what?" He remembered a story about a man who hunted other men, just for the challenge.

"Horses."
Baines hesitated a moment longer, then after a couple of false starts, he managed to seat himself awkwardly on the horse's back. The patient animal stood quietly during the ordeal. Van Helsing showed Baines how to hold the reins, and they slowly rode through the wet forest, pushing past dripping leaves. Soon, tho' not soon enough for Baines, they reached a narrow trail kept clear by wandering herds. The tech engaged the audio transmitter of his gear once he felt confident enough to pry one hand off the reins.

Riding wasn't all that bad, after a little while. The most uncomfortable part of it was, the horse's back had been wet, and now the seat of Baines's pants was. He really missed the ergonomic chairs and complicated consoles of his chosen profession at times like this. Homesickness settled in with the rain, each drop seeming to increase its intensity. Baines sighed loudly. He nearly fell off the horse when van Helsing turned and assured him, "We'll see them soon. They aren't far."

"Horses?"
"Horses," confirmed van Helsing, pointing to a revolting collection of manure disintegrating in the rain in the path directly ahead of them. "Fresh," he observed.

Baines really didn't care to learn any of this. Yeah, it would make a great story to bore his grandchildren with, but right now he was wet, chilled, uncomfortably straddling an extinct animal, and riding thru *fresh* manure.

"Where did they come from? The horses, I mean." "Earth, of course. Parallel lifeforms appear to be the rule rather than the exception, but two identical species developing on two different planets isn't going to happen."

As van Helsing seemed unusually approachable, Baines risked another question. "You have any idea when, or how many and how they got here?"

"When? As long as I've been here, at least. I've seen as many as 20 or so together. How they got here, your guess is as good as mine." The monotone gave way to vehemence. "No doubt the Council is behind it. Soulless bastards!"

Baines was astonished. He, like the rest of Eden Advance, had come to think of the guide as emotionless, an automaton whose one purpose was to see them out of its territory.

"We don't think much of the Council, either," he said carefully.

Van Helsing made no reply.
"They tried to blow us up."
The woodsman said nothing. He did turn and momentarily favor Baines with an honest-to-God inquisitive look.

Yale stroked his beard, pondering the 'conversation' relayed over the tech's gear. There could be a great many reasons for van Helsing's evident animosity toward the Council. Assuming it was real, Dr. Heller could be in danger if her past became known to him. It was unlikely the subject would come up, but Morgan did tend to prattle on. On the other hand, if the man was an agent of the Council--there was no indication he was, but there was no indication he wasn't--well, if he was acting for the Council, it was imperative Eden Advance...deal with him. The question was, how to determine van Helsing's allegiance. The cyborg recalled Julia posing basically the same question: how do we ascertain whether or not the man is hostile? Alonzo and Uly's input served only to muddy the waters.

No one else was interested in figuring out van Helsing's motives just then. Eden Advance was interested in the horses. Each person listened intently on gear; the cold rain kept them in camp, huddled in groups of three or four, with nothing more pressing to do than wait for any transmission from Baines and play cards. Mostly, they heard rain and the sloppy sounds associated with horses walking thru mud. Danziger, short of sleep due to the previous night's 'volunteer' guard duty, grew impatient and stripped off his headset, telling True to wake him if anything significant came thru. He stretched out on his cot and almost at once dozed off.

Baines abruptly shouted, "Hey, guys, you've got to see this!" He flipped the screen out and gave the Eden group its first look at a herd of horses. Resolution left something to be desired; still, they could see about a quarter of a mile distant, 12 or 14 animals grazing in a narrow strip of grassland. It was 12 or 14 times as large a herd as any of them had ever dreamed of seeing. Baines' outcry attracted the herd's attention. Most went back to grazing, frequently lifting their heads to check the potential predators. One abandoned dinner altogether and alertly watched the two men.

Van Helsing sat staring at Baines. Baines was excited enough not to care; he shot answers back to the group as fast as they asked the questions. How many? What color? (from Uly). How many would he be bringing back with him? Did he want some of them to come and help capture the animals? Did they appear healthy? Most of Baines's answers were, "I don't know."

The tech, completely out of his element, looked to van Helsing for help. Van Helsing turned his own horse around and started back the way they'd come.

Baines trailed after him. He had no choice. The pack horse followed van Helsing. "Wait," Baines protested. "Aren't we going to get a few of them, or something?" He nudged the placid animal into a slightly faster walk, coming abreast of van Helsing.

"How?"
"I don't know, you're the expert here!" Van Helsing grinned, white teeth gleaming thru the beard. He laughed shortly. "Those are *wild* horses." He laughed again and urged his horse into a mud-slinging trot.

Baines rode no faster. He--all of Eden Advance, but especially he--had been made the butt of a joke. They could use those horses and van Helsing knew it. So, he'd taken a man out in the rain and shown him the herd to taunt them. Baines ground his teeth in frustration. The questions and demands from camp annoyed him; he jerked off his gear and crammed the set into his pocket.

DAY 24

True scuffed at the leaves, exposing the black earth beneath them. She was bored, not because she had nothing to do, but because what she wanted to do was not what she was doing. It was way too early for lessons; they'd just had breakfast and hadn't had time to explore. Yale was droning on and on. Uly, perched on a fallen tree, swung his feet idly, drumming his heels unrhythmically against the log. A few minutes before, True had been drumming her heels, then Uly copied her. She'd dropped to the ground and begun clearing the humus away with her feet. Yale was talking about it, the humus. How a forest was a 'selfsustaining ecosystem' unless you cut all the trees and stuff down. She'd thought it absurdly obvious that a treeless forest wasn't a forest. But the tutor wasn't finished and went on to talk about humus and its importance. Couldn't have a forest without trees, couldn't have humus without trees, couldn't have a forest without humus--of course not! True gave a particularly vicious kick to the ground and dug up a many-legged, slender little monster. She screamed and leapt back onto the log. Uly peered down at the creature writhing in the dirt. Yale, unperturbed, used a stick to gently guide leaves back onto the thing.

"Come, children, we'd best find another site for our studies," he said prudently. "On Earth, insects and arthropods often protected themselves with venomous bites or stings. This little fellow may have similar means of defense."

True balanced along the tree, followed by Uly, until Yale, with a beckoning finger, silently commanded they jump to the ground. The disturbed bug-thing was a couple of meters away now. There was no reason to keep walking on the upward sloping trunk, except it was fun. Still, Yale expected obedience with the assurance of one able to exact obedience, if need be. He was nice, but tough. True instinctively flexed her knees as she landed on the soft earth. Uly did, too. The girl knew she'd bent her knees because it made landing easier, but she didn't realize her action was reflex. So, to True Danziger, Uly was copying her. Again.

The older child exhaled wearily. What her great-great-great grandmother would have called a 'switch' brushed True's face. Vengefully, she broke it off, a two foot length of narrow branch covered with leaves. One by one, the girl plucked them and dropped them to the forest floor. They could make humus early. She glanced at Uly to see if he was still copying her. He wasn't, she noted with...dissatisfaction. He wasn't *yet*, she amended, nurturing the nasty mood acquired before she and her dad had even left their tent.

True Danziger wanted to search for horses. Her father had laid down the law about that, much as Devon had laid down the law about hunting for van Helsing. Yeah, and Dad had hunted for him anyway. True mulled it over. Her dad was her boss, just like Devon was her dad's boss. Um. Not quite. Devon was the leader, and leaders give orders just because they wanted to...the bright little girl held the naked branch upright and shook it, watching the tip wiggle. They gave orders because they wanted to keep people from getting hurt. Just like parents gave orders to kids to keep *them* from getting hurt.

"Hey, neat!" exclaimed Uly, breaking into True's rationalization. He ran ahead of Yale to a sapling and broke off a branch for himself, which he began stripping as rapidly as he could.

True released another carefully measured sigh. She'd known all along he'd be a copycat again. Didn't he ever think of anything himself?

"I'm not sure you children need to be playing with those, especially in that manner," said Yale. He anticipated a sword fight, and these 'swords' could leave a painful welt. "One of you might accidentally strike the other--or me," he injected with a smile, "and inflict an injury."

"You think we'll get hurt," translated the Quadrant girl. She screwed up her face in the resigned contempt of a child who knows better than the adult advising her. Another sigh, dramatically delivered, and True pitched her toy to the ground.

"How could we get hurt with a little stick?" protested Uly, his face a milder version of his best friend's. He loosely held either end of the branch and twirled it around.

"Uly," said Yale patiently.
The boy looked up at his teacher, sighed softly, and dropped the branch.

"As late as the mid 21st century, children were punished with switches such as these. It wasn't uncommon for the child to be instructed to choose the switch his mother or father would use as the whip." Yale observed True and Uly as his words brought unpleasant images to the kids' minds.

"They got whipped?" gasped True, eyes wide. Sure, her dad had popped her on the rear with his hand when she'd been too little to reason with, but he'd never hit her hard and certainly never with a weapon.

Uly stared down at the switch. He squatted and picked it up again, feeling the tip. He remembered learning about real whips and how fast the free end could be going when it made contact with something. "People hit their own children with these things?" He dropped the branch again, this time with no reluctance.

"In the distant past," soothed Yale. He'd meant to make an impression; had he possibly misjudged how strongly his students would be affected? "We've long since realized inflicting unnecessary pain on children is barbaric and actually not very useful."

"Tell my dad," muttered True. At the shocked look on Uly's face, she hurried to explain. "He's spanked me a couple of times, when I was real little." Like eight. "But he just hit me with his hand. And not hard."

"When a child is very young, a pat on the bottom does help him or her develop self-control."

"Can we talk about something else?" whined Uly. He'd never been hit by anyone, and found True's revelation unsettling. The boy would see Mr. Danziger differently now. Uly didn't doubt Mr. Danziger loved True, but he'd hit her. Wonder why? She must really have made him angry. He'd ask her later.

"My dad didn't hurt me," insisted True, reading Uly's expression correctly. "Do you think he'd actually try to *hurt* me?"

Uly shrugged. He turned to Yale. "Is school over for today?" The wise old man considered. "Yes, I believe we've learned enough for today." He fondly patted the boy's shoulder.

"Too much," muttered True, retrieving her bad mood. She'd nearly lost it to Uly's heartfelt concern.

The trio made their way to camp, the children unusually quiet. Yale gently guided them, a hand on the back of each. Within sight of camp, True twisted away from him.

"I've got to take care of personal matters," she explained. At his nod, she darted off to the privacy of some nearby bushes.

Uly and Yale continued on.

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