If that's so, then I can't drag him down into it.
So she kept the trike steady and true, riding across the garden that retained its light coating of glistening moisture from last night's rain. The old iron gate at the end of the track creaked as its actuators swung it open for her. Then she was out on the empty road lined with tall lackfol trees whose reddish-green loaves were chittering in the gentle breeze that stirred under the city's force field dome.
The worst part of the trip was riding over the big single-arch bridge to the northern bank. She felt horribly exposed to the big capsules that slid through the air on either side of the bridge. It was so strange seeing the city without its normal capsule traffic zipping about, as if the metropolis was injured somehow. People on the bridge seemed to share the feeling. Many citizens had decided to walk to work, showing their defiance through an obstinate insistence on pursuing their normal day as best they could. Public cabs still hummed along the central rails, packed tight with commuters. And she'd never known so many people actually had trike pods; a great many of them clearly hadn't been outside their garages for years.
As she cleared the apex of the long bridge, Araminta allowed herself to dip into the local gaiafield, receiving the strident emotions of her fellow residents, the determination and anger they radiated and supported each other with. It was a buoyant kinship; though she didn't dare allow any of her own feelings to trickle out. She was all too conscious of people like Danal delving into the confluence nests, trying to locate any hint of her thoughts, her location, her identity. And how was that for irony, one of her hunters buying an apartment from her, actually living next door to his prey, neither of them knowing. She wondered if he'd be able to scent the guilt on her.
Ahead of her she could see three capsules hovering over the far end of the bridge. Dozens of the suited paramilitaries were clustered there, examining everyone coming over. She almost turned around there and then, but that would draw attention to her. And they'd be watching the whole bridge for such a reaction, she was sure of that. So she pressed on, wondering what that ancestor Mellanie would do: she who'd bequeathed so much trouble into Araminta's easy life. Was she some kind of tough government agent, a War hero; why was she a Silfen friend? Araminta promised herself that when she got back to the apartments the first thing she'd do was look up the woman whose fault this all was.
The paramilitaries were simply standing waiting in intimidating ranks, holding long rifles across their chests as everyone from the bridge walked or drove past them. The Unisphere nodes at the end of the bridge were querying u-shadows. Araminta sent her identity certificate, looking nervously at the bulky figures, wondering what their faces looked like. They were sharing nothing with the gaiafield, which was strange for anyone affiliated with Living Dream must surely have gaiamotes. Were they nervous? They must know an entire planet hated them.
Whatever smartcore the Living Dream forces were using to try and identify the Second Dreamer didn't seem unduly interested in Araminta. None of the paramilitaries showed any interest in her as the trike trundled past them. Just on the other side, a group of local youths was gathering. Shouts echoed through the damp air, directed at the paramilitaries. Several marques of construction site bot waddled and rolled towards the dark ranks, waving power tools threateningly and leaking miscreant programs that blocked and distorted the cybersphere nodes.
By the time she was a hundred metres along Gathano Avenue past the bridge, the paramilitary squad commander finally took action against the taunts and belligerent bots. The shouting increased in volume and anger, interspaced with the unpleasant high-pitched humm of energy weapons directed at the bots. Araminta increased her speed as a pair of capsules swept overhead to reinforce their colleagues. The last thing she could afford now was to be taken into custody.
By the time she reached her apartments in the Bodant district forty minutes later the number of people milling round in the park outside was disturbing. She knew she was being prejudiced, but most of them looked like the kind of gang members which the Unisphere news always claimed had a stranglehold on the neighbouring Helie district. When she allowed their gaiafield emissions to register, she found an atmosphere of dark resentment swirling across the park, more frightening than the anger of the commuters. There was purpose here. Violence wasn't far away.
She steered the trike down into the underground garage, thankful for the dual gate security; then took the lift up. When the doors opened on the fourth floor Araminta prayed that Danal and Mareble were either out or wouldn't hear her crossing the vestibule — how good had she made the sound proofing? The Living Dream followers had only moved in two days ago, declaring they could no longer wait until the official completion date, which left her with a load of work to finish for them before the full price was deposited in her account. Not today!
The door of the apartment she was using closed behind her and she pressed her back up against it, as if reinforcing the charming old-fashioned brass lock. Breath hissed out of her in a sorrowful gasp, and she slowly slid down onto the parquet floor.
I can just stay here. I don't need to go out. I can get nutrient fluid for the culinary unit pumped in. I can work on getting the last two apartments finished. By the time that's done all this will have blown over.
Except for the Void expansion phase. But the Raiel will fight that, that's what the Unisphere shows say.
It was a pitiful delusion, she knew.
Maybe thirty minutes later Cressida called. Just seeing her icon appear cheered Araminta up no end. If anyone knew what to do it would be Cressida. And maybe, just maybe, she could tell her cousin about being the Second Dreamer.
'Darling, how are you? Where are you?
'I'm okay, thanks, I'm at the apartments.
'Oh. I thought you were with Mr Bovey.
'I was. I came home this morning.
'You crossed the city yourself?
'Yes. It wasn't any trouble. I used my trike pod.
'Dear Ozzie, that was stupid, darling. You're not to do anything like that again, do you understand. I mean it. Life is about to get very ugly here. I've been talking with my contacts in City Hall and the state government house. These Living Dream bastards are not going to go home. Viotia has been royally screwed by our crap-for-brains Prime Minister.
'Yes. I know, she said weakly.
'And the worst place for anyone to be right now is Colwyn City. They think that dickhead the Second Dreamer is living here. And there's no way he'll escape. They've broken just about every single article of the Commonwealth constitution by invading us, they're not going to stop now. Do you know who've they've sent to oversee the search?
'No.
'Well don't tell anyone, but Cleric Phelim himself has come through the wormhole to take charge.
'Who's that?
'Oh, darling, keep up! He's Ethan's chief of staff, the enforcer himself. A greater turd you will not meet, and I include your old chum Likan in that list.
'Oh, great Ozzie, Araminta drew her knees up to her chin and hugged her legs tight.