The Book of Dreams

Chapter One of The Book of Dreams Series, Book One

1

Kira Wood was analyzing a faux Grecian pottery in the laboratory at the Institute for Historical Research. The artifact came in a large shipment that was teleported to Beta-1 from their sister base on Mars. The processing officer who assigned the materials left a note asking whether it was an antiquity or a facsimile. The answer seemed fairly obvious. The artifact was a jug, wide in the middle with Grecian designs circling its side, and a lip that was too small for anything larger than plants or flowers. It was made of stone, not clay, and most likely mass produced. She held the rough-hewn pottery in her hands and tilted her head. Twenty-second century, maybe? she thought. She tipped it upside down on the steel lab table and found more confirmation. There on the bottom were the serial numbers, faded, as though scratched out, or possibly worn by the elements. But there they were, the faintest of etches in the stoneware.

Kira raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Faker," she muttered under her breath.

Though she did not have final say over which items should be curated at the Museum of Earth History––that belonged to the museum's board of curators––she did determine the value and historical relevance of each artifact, which was a vital step toward deliberations. It was rare to come across counterfeits, but, from the few examples she did encounter, she became a quick study within the short period of time she worked at the Institute. Her training was in cultural history. She had dreamed once of traveling to member planets in the alliance as a cultural diplomat. But that was in the past. Now she made a living as an acquisitions analyst. Her father always said she had good observational skills, so that came in handy.

She showed the serial numbers to her lab partner, Shi. "Factory produced. Probably sold at home retailers by the masses."

Shi blinked her large, black eyes and clicked her beak and mandibles. Standing at 2.7 meters in height, she had expressionless, insectoid features, hairy feelers on top of her skull, and a red exoskeleton out of which two translucent wings emerged from her back. The tips of the wings poked out from the bottom of her white lab coat and buzzed softly when they flitted. Her translator, which fit round the neck like a choker, began translating.

"Interesting quite. Old did it come how?"

"I'm thinking twenty-second century, roundabouts."

Shi's antennae perked. "Still ancient, yes?"

"Well, in a sense. But the real question is: Does it have any historical relevance? It might, if it was produced during the Great Unrest."

"Great Unrest?" She raised her limbs in a gesture of what Kira presumed was a shrug.

"Climate change, wars, terrorism, riots, pandemics––one of the worst periods in Earth history."

She sighed and turned the pottery upright. The soft glow of the LED panels above illuminated every curve and line of the piece. It was a remarkable artifact. Imagine a planet overwhelmed with dread, fear, hate, and uncertainty, but in the middle of it all people still had the perseverance to manufacture things like this, as if all of humanity depended on its mass production. It was absurd. Even in the face of destruction, capitalism still persisted like a predator's teeth in the hide of a fleeing prey. Yet at the same time there was something beautifully resilient about it. Humanity's will to survive imposing itself over its own destruction. She ran her fingers across the edge of the lid and turned to Shi with a smile.

"You know, Shi, I'm just crazy enough to actually recommend it for exhibition. It's been a while since the Museum ran a theme on the Great Unrest."

"This is seen. Good very. Sent should still to process?"

"Well, just to be sure, let's get a carbon dating first. I don't think I'm wrong, but it helps to have verification."

Shi flittered her wings and took the artifact to her station to process it for radiology, but not before asking if there was anything else Kira wanted.

"No, Shi, that'll be all."

"Madam, well very." Shi nodded her enormous head and placed the pottery on her work station.

Kira sighed. "It's Kira," she muttered under her breath as she turned to her station. She had been on the long end of a losing battle in her attempt to get Shi to see her as an equal. Shi was a Xarite, and polite deference to the extreme was a familiar custom of her people. Though they had been working together at the Institute for the entire length of her assignment, she never referred to Kira as anything more than madam. On some occasions, it was sir. No one would ever get to first name basis with a Xarite, though they only answered to one name themselves. The Xarites communicated in a complex and sophisticated linguistic system composed of a series of clicks and whistles, none of which were translatable into any of the millions of languages found in the four quadrants. So Shi, like many of her comrades, chose an assimilation of names depending on the planet they were living on. That was why Kira felt so odd about her deference toward her. So much of the Xarites’ existence seemed catered to others.

The Xarites were political refugees. They fled their planet Xara in Q-I from the Ro Kan Empire. Years after the Galactic War, the empire had maintained its hold on the early colonies it had conquered over a millennia ago. The Ro Kannan were fierce, intelligent people for whom warfare was a natural function of life. Their mining colonies allowed them to conquer and control their section of the galaxy. Shi was among a million Xarites who risked their lives in rickety starships to flee their home. This was after the signing of the Mutual Nonaggression Pact between the Ro Kannan and the Interplanetary Peace Alliance, when everyone from humans to Starrians cheered over the end of the conflict, unconcerned that there were others still trapped behind Ro Kannan lines. The arrival of the Xarite refugees into Q-III was a bitter reminder that nonaggression and peace were always mutually exclusive.

Kira adjusted a long, thin braid that dropped from the bun she pinned to the back of her head, then turned to her terminal. She had a vague notion about resilience, both human and Xarite, and how it was a singular theme of history. Betans strove to emphasize resilience and innovation when they remembered the past. After all, humans would not have traveled to and lived within a different planetary system were it not for that drive. Rarely did they dwell on the more difficult aspects of that history, though they didn't entirely ignore it either. It was always useful to remember what they had to overcome and what they were capable of achieving once they put aside their differences and focused on the missions at hand. It was an important lesson that every generation needed to learn, lest humans regress to their ancient, barbaric ways of hatred and war.

She thought of her own people on Earth, black descendants of slavery in the United States, and their stubborn resilience against their continued brutality in all ways imaginable, only to emerge as leaders among the stars. Her hero, Dr. Bruce Solarin, was one of those leaders, an engineer who was among the first group of explorers to settle on Beta-1 when it was still an uninhabitable planet and referred to as Beta-Earth. Kira smiled inwardly as she recalled the biography her father bought of Dr. Solarin for her holographic media platform. She must have played that holographic video more than two dozen times before it wore out, freezing at the point when Dr. Solarin and his crew launched from the base on Mars to the Beta system, some three and a half light years away. She had memorized his life story so well that she could repeat it back in total to her parents, impressing them with her ability at recall and her passion for stories like Dr. Solarin's. Kira inherited these sensibilities from her father, a retired freighter pilot for the Ministry of Trade, who encouraged her interests in science, history, and the men and women who shaped the development of their planet.

The white screen of the terminal monitor glowed in front of her, waiting to be filled with data. She typed "A History of Resilience," the title of a report to the board of curators. That should be an excellent title for a new exhibit, she thought, and laid out her pitch.

She was in the middle of typing the report when her supervisor called on her communicator.

A middle-aged woman with severe features and gray hair that looked like soft-serve ice cream appeared on screen. When Kira first met Dr. Karault, she found herself intimidated by the older woman's stiff formal manner, which suggested she was a demanding hard-nose to please. Yet Dee-Martha Karault turned out to be anything but. She became one of Kira's biggest allies, always willing to listen to her crazy ideas and offer her opportunities to shape and influence exhibits.

She asked Kira to come up to her office for a meeting.

"Now?" she shouted. Shi had activated the teleportation machine and it was making a loud, pulsing, humming noise that forced her to raise her voice. "Why? What's up?"

"I'd rather not say right now. It's important, and I'd prefer we speak face-to-face. I'd appreciate it if you can come right away."

"Yeah, of course," she said, taken aback by the sudden request. She ended the transmission, then whispered: "Odd."

She had never been called up to Dr. Karault's office without notice before. Especially on a morning like this, when all the assistant curators were busy sifting through, analyzing, carbon dating, tagging, cataloguing, and teleporting materials to their enormous warehouse downtown. The reason for the impromptu meeting, or rather lack of reason, was also strange. They'd already held their weekly staff meeting two days ago, and her second semi-annual review wasn't due until four months. She scratched her head trying to come up with reasons why her supervisor might want to see her so unexpectedly.

After announcing to her lab partner that she was taking a break, she left the lab and took the lift up to the ninth floor where the administrative offices were held, still speculating on why she had been summoned. She didn't want to, but her mind kept singling out the worst conclusions. Though she had been at the Institute for eight and a half months and had been fairly well received by colleagues and supervisors, her position there was still tenuous. She had gotten the job after she left her previous one at the Interplanetary Peace Alliance, where she worked in the Commission of Diplomacy. She was there no longer than a year, playing desk jockey pushing policy papers for their vast database, while more senior members in the department went on interstellar jaunts to all the planets she'd studied about in the Academy. Her sole reason for joining IPPA crushed like autumn leaves under foot, she quit her job, left the Cloud, the exotransit space station orbiting her planet, and returned home. Another long six months passed and a mass of forms filled out before she received word from the Ministry of Vocation that the job at the Institute had been found for her. It took some doing, as she later found out, because they had to squeeze her in. The funds at the Institute were tight and the only reason they took her on was because the previous person who held her position went a sabbatical for an unannounced length of time. She had thanked the stars for the job, but was aware that her position there was temporary.

Was that why Dr. Karault called her to her office? To let her know her time was up?    

She swept into Dr. Karault's sunny outer office and greeted her executive assistant, Bela. He glanced up from the console of his ergonomically designed polycarbonate fiberglass upright mobile unit in which he fitted like the yolk of a boiled egg, and waved her through. "Any idea on what this is about?" she asked. Bela shrugged, the blue light of his earbud flashing with a call, then said hurriedly, "No idea, but she's got a visitor. Somebody from IPPA." Kira blinked. Someone from IPPA? Now this meeting was getting stranger and more intriguing by the minute. She waved goodbye to Bela as he answered the call, then, adjusting the collar of her white lab coat and running a firm hand over her hair, went inside.

Dr. Karault sat behind a plain glass table with the view of the city behind her. She gestured for Kira to have a seat. Sitting beside her was a middle-aged Asian man with trimmed, salt-and-pepper hair and warm, friendly eyes. He wore a blue IPPA uniform. A patch of the organization's insignia––the spiral galaxy of the Milky Way within a crown of leaves––was on his left breast. She glanced at Dr. Karault before she took a seat. Her supervisor introduced the guest as Mr. Dean Ito, field director for the Hall of Justice at the branch offices of IPPA.

"Hello, Miss Wood," he said warmly. "I've heard so much about you."

She shot up an eyebrow. "You have?"

"I've been studying your work jacket here at the Institute. Quite impressive considering you've been here for a year."

"Eight and a half months," she corrected, wondering why the branch office field director in the Hall of Justice would be interested in her work jacket.

He grinned again. "Even more impressive."

"I suppose you're wondering why you're here?" Dr. Karault said. Kira assented that indeed she had. She asked if there was anything wrong, to which her supervisor replied with the first smile of the day: "No, of course not. We've been quite pleased with your work." She turned to Field Director Ito and said, "Ms. Wood was responsible for a very popular exhibit on twentieth-century popular music."

"Fascinating," he said

Kira relaxed and returned her gaze to Field Director Ito as Dr. Karault explained the purpose for the meeting. Apparently, Field Director Ito came to ask her a few questions. "Do you mind?" he asked.

"No, I don't, though I would like to know what this is all about first."

"Reasonable enough," Ito said. "You see, Miss Wood, there has come to my attention that a new position has opened up at the headquarter offices."

She furrowed her brow. "On Starrus 7?"

"Yes, though, of course, whoever's chosen for this position will likely report to their branch office supervisors." He glanced at Dr. Karault before continuing. "I was tasked with finding that candidate."

Kira widened her eyes. Starrus 7 was an exoplanet nearest the Beta System. It had been responsible for founding IPPA during the war. She had never been to Starrus 7. She'd never been anywhere outside of Beta-I and its orbit.

"So IPPA is looking for candidates in the Beta system."

He grinned. "Well, not solely. They've ordered most of the branch offices in the member planets to find candidates."

"That's why I'm here: To interview for a position I never applied for?"

Ito laughed, then glanced again at Dr. Karault, who remained inscrutable. "No, Miss Wood, IPPA has already found the right candidate. Right now we're in a preliminary phase."

Kira tried not to betray any sign of surprise. She felt her eyes widen and her bottom lip part in shock, but she quickly pulled herself together. She asked what kind a preliminary phase he was alluding to, though, if it was anything like the interviews she took part in before she joined IPPA, she had some idea. They included physical and psychological aptitude tests, none of which were useful for her assignments.

Field Director Ito assured her that it wasn't anything as arduous as that. He wanted to ask her a few questions. Such as, she asked.

"Well, first off: What is your opinion on interstellar traveling?"

Kira furrowed her brow. What could she tell him? That it had been her dream since the very beginning? To see the galaxy in all its terrifying beauty? That it had been one of the reasons she applied to work for IPPA in the first place? And that she left when she realized her dreams were withering like grapes on the vine?

"I have no particular opinion about it. I'm assuming the position will involve travel."

"Lots of it. In fact, if you choose to accept this position, you will be away from home for long stretches of time. Would you have a problem with that?"

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I haven't stated whether I'm interested in this position."

"Well, I guess that does it." He made a show of rising from his chair.

"But I haven't stated whether I'm not interested either," she said quickly. Field Director Ito, still grinning, relaxed back in his chair and laced his fingers together on the table. "You'll have to excuse me, but this is all happening very fast."

"I agree," Dr. Karault interjected. "We both deserve a more direct explanation about what's going on here. Miss Wood is a valuable asset at the Institute."

"I'm quite sure she is," he said. "Very well. I'll lay it all out on the table. The position IPPA has created is very unique, one my superiors believe is suited to your particular skills."

"My particular skills? Earlier you said IPPA was looking for candidates."

"Yes, and I was being honest. IPPA was looking at various candidates. After reviewing your transcripts from the Academy, your work at IPPA and the Institute, they came to the conclusion that you were best suited for this position. Tell me, Miss Wood, what do you know about the Z'Dhian?"

"You mean the sect from Idris-Sarra?"

He nodded. "When I reviewed your transcripts, I noticed that your academic research focused on Idris-Sarran culture and history."

"Only as a secondary. My primary academic coursework was on cultural diplomacy."

"Of course, of course, but you did study the Idris-Sarran. Not very many people do."

With good reason, she thought. Idris-Sarra was a lone habitable planet within the Cassardarmus 3 planetary system in Q-I. The nearest planetary system to it was Ro Kan, which was well over hundreds of light-years away. The Idris-Sarran were an ancient race, very intelligent, scientific, and wise, but secretive and aloof too. Not much was known about them except that they were one of the first peoples outside of the Ro Kan Empire who were colonized. They were also the first to resist. They were largely pacifistic, though a faction of Idris-Sarran formed resistance groups which would later join the Alliance when the Ro Kan spread their imperialistic aims across the galaxy. Her father had told her stories about the Idris-Sarran and their fierceness on the battlefield.

The Z'Dhian were a different sect altogether. When the Ro Kannan colonized their planet, mined Callux-a and Callux-b, its two orbiting dwarf planets, and enslaved its people, they opened Idris-Sarra up to profiteers from Bijoon, a neighbor of the Ro Kan Empire in Q-1 and one of the few of allies to the Empire. They plundered the planet's cultural and scientific treasures and sold them on the underground market throughout the known quadrants. The underground market had been a pernicious problem that IPPA continued to combat in pockets here and there. Most, though not all, member planets were also plundered. Various artifacts were still sold and traded illegally among buyers and collectors in the underground. The Idris-Sarran were granted special privileges from Article 15 to recover artifacts that were stolen from them. The Z'Dhian were trained archivists (the word dhia meant, when loosely translated from Idris-Sarran, "digger" or archivist). Their sole purpose was to hunt and return their missing antiquities.

One of these treasures, which had the most significance to the Idris-Sarran people, was the Book of Dreams. From what Kira understood, the Book of Dreams were volumes of scientific papers that were as old as their civilization (the word for knowledge in Idris-Sarran was the same, when translated roughly into Betan-English, as dreams, which she thought appropriate. Knowledge was like a sort of dream, an ever elusive provocation). From the stories she'd heard, the volumes supposedly unlocked even the most mysterious elements of the universe, but she thought these tall-tales were likely apocryphal. Few people had ever laid eyes on the volumes, except the racketeers who still traded them on the underground market for their intricate, handcrafted designs. But anyone who paid close attention to galactic politics already knew this. Kira's studies were somewhat comprehensive, though they didn't provide her with the expertise AD Ito seemed to be implying. What she did learn fascinated her. The Idris-Sarran reminded her of ancient African cultures on Earth, particularly Timbuktu, with their interests in math, astronomy, trade, and metaphysics, all of which, they believed, were part of one whole.

"I honestly don't know that much about Idris-Sarran culture, sir, I only took survey courses on the subject."

"Yes, the Idris-Sarran are a mysterious lot. So much we don't know about them. That's why my superiors want you for the position. Any bit of information you have will help."

"Doing what?"

"Being an attaché to a N'Dhia."

Kira frowned. Of the most unlikely job offers, she could not think of anything any more unlikely. "An attaché? For a N'Dhia?"

He shrugged. "I know. Apparently, this is a new program."

"Do the Idris-Sarran even need an attaché?"

He chuckled. "You pose a very good question, Miss Wood. Unfortunately I do not have the answer to that. I'm afraid I don't quite make the pay grade."

He laughed and turned to Dr. Karault, who only nodded with the faintest of smiles. Kira could tell from the tension around her eyes that Dr. Karault was not happy at all by the development.

The field director explained that as an attaché, her responsibilities would be to accompany and assist the Z'Dhia in his mission to recover stolen artifacts around the quadrants. It would involve traveling and investigative work, which meant years if not decades in the field. Her training as a researcher and her knowledge about Idris-Sarran culture, no matter how limited, would be useful in this regard.

"My superiors all agree that you are the best candidate for this position."

"That may be the case," she said, "but I left IPPA over a year ago. It took me a long time to get this position at the Institute. I'm not sure if I want to leave."

"I understand." He laced his fingers together and fixed her with a stare. "May I ask why you left?"

"I was dissatisfied."

"Ah," he said thoughtfully. Then: "May I ask why again?"

"I joined IPPA because––" She paused and stared into Ito's expectant eyes "––because I wanted to travel."

He smiled.

Kira cleared her throat and shifted in her chair. She was silent for a few seconds before she said, "I'm gonna need a couple of days to think this over."

"Of course, by all means," Ito consented. "But only for a day at most. The Z'Dhia you've been assigned to is already working on a case and would understandably like to begin ASAP. So an answer within the next twenty-four hours would be greatly appreciated."

Kira nodded and got up to leave.

As the doors slid shut behind her, she exhaled as if she had been holding her breath for a long time underwater. Life was strange, her father loved to say. Strange, and as the universe was fond of teaching, quite unpredictable.