Free Nightmare by Steven Harper Page A

Kent’s tone was frosted with iron, "but that information is absolutely confidential."
      Lizard’s heart dropped into his feet. Ara and Michel harangued, cajoled, and threatened, then demanded to talk to the Station Manager, whereupon they went through the same process, also to no avail. Finally, Ara met Father Adept Michel’s eyes for a brief moment. He shook his head and ordered Tora to close the connection. Then he gestured at Anna Kay, who set to work at the pilot boards. Ara turned back to Lizard.
      "I’m sorry, Lizard," she said softly. "Your mother’s gone."

      Lizard sat in the ship’s lounge, staring out a porthole at the stars and feeling very strange. His eyes were red and sore, and he wore a soft brown robe and comfortable shoes. Lizard’s memory of the moment after Ara told him the bad news about his mother were hazy, but he did remember tearing at his clothes. Hence the robe.
      The other three slaves—Jeren, Willa, and Kite—sat clustered together, talking in low tones. Lizard didn’t feel up to talking, so he ignored them. The lounge was small and dimly lit, but it was comfortably furnished with easy chairs and couches. Stars drifted steadily past the porthole. Every moment widened the distance between Lizard and the last remains of his family.
    Draw strength from us.
      The voice came into his head as clearly as it had in his dream, but Lizard continued to stare out the porthole. He had lost everything important to him—his family, his friend, even his name. He had been answering to the name Lizard as if he’d been born to it. He had no control over anything, over no aspect of his life.
    We are the Real People, and you are part of us.
      But they had been nothing but a dream. A simple, night-time dream. It had felt absolutely real, but that didn’t make it so.
    The mutants can take that from you only if you let them.
      Only if he let them. If only it were that simple.
    Only if you let them.
      Maybe it was.
      Lizard sat up straighter. No one was going to give him control. He knew that. What if he just took it? Starting with his name. Outside the porthole, the stars looked as if they were swimming below him, and if he took a step forward, he could walk on them with no effort.
    Only if you let them.
      Lizard firmed his jaw. So what if it had only been a dream? That didn’t mean the words were any less true. He was one of the Real People, and he had been through pain and trials at the hands of mutants, just as the Real People had, and he had survived. He would survive. They would give him strength.
      The lounge door slid open and Ara came in. She was wearing a gold medallion around her neck like the rest of the bridge crew and a gold ring set with a gleaming piece of green jade graced her right hand. The little group of recently freed slaves stopped talking and turned to face her. Jeren and Willa started to rise, but Ara waved at them to sit and took a chair herself.
      "You aren’t slaves," she said, "and you don’t have to stand up whenever someone comes into the room. Anna Kay says we’re well away from the station and should have slip at any moment now—" As if on cue, the stars exploded into a whirling cacophony of colors. Nausea fluttered in Lizard’s stomach before the porthole darkened.
      "Perfect," Ara said. "I’m sure you have a great many questions by now, and I’ve come down to answer them. Lizard, do you want to join us?"
      "That’s not my name," he said firmly.
      Ara nodded, as if she’d seen the phenomenon before. "All right. What is your name?"
      "Kendi," he blurted, then blinked in surprise. It had been on the tip of his tongue to say Evan. Why had he said Kendi ? Then he remembered some of the stories the Real People Reconstructionists had told around the fire on walkabout. A kendi was a magical lizard, quick and intelligent. He thought about it for a moment, then nodded to himself.
      "Kendi," he repeated. "My real name is Kendi."
      "Very