Dream thief

7

… HELLO, DAD. LISTEN, THANKS for coming down to the center…" The image on the screen peered back at him apprehensively. "Can you see me okay? Fine. I said, 'Thanks for coming down to the base.' I know it isn't easy for you."

"Are you all right, Spencer? When they said you wanted to talk to me I was afraid something had happened to you. 1 hurried over as fast as I could. The lady here said you were ill."

"Not ill-I had an accident. A minor accident. I fell down and hit my head, that's all. But when I went in for an aspirin they popped me into the med bay." Spence had stuck with his story about falling down and saw no reason to change it now. He did not want to worry his father any more than he already had.

"You're sure you're all right?" The face in the vidphone screen did not look reassured.

"Of course I'm all right; it was nothing. But since they wanted to keep me in here for a few hours I thought I'd have them patch in a signal to the base for me. You get to do that when you're sick."

"Oh," was all his father said.

"Anyway, I haven't been able to write or anything so I thought it might be fun if we could phone each other-almost as good as being there."

"Is your work going all right?"

"Fine, Dad. Everything's fine. Listen, I wanted to tell you that I won't be able to call you again for a while. I'm going to be pretty busy. I may be going out with one of the research teams on a field assignment."

"How long would that last, Spencer? You wouldn't be gone too long?"

"No, not too long," Spence lied. "A couple months, that's all. I'll vidphone you when I get back." He could see that his father did not understand what he was talking about. He looked worn and worried, and was apparently struggling to accept the fact that his son would be away longer than anticipated. Spence wished he had not called; his breaking-the-news-gently strategy was not working. "How have you been, Dad? Is Kate taking care of you?"

"Kate is very busy with the boys. She has her hands full, you know. I don't like to bother her."

"The boys are in fourth form, Dad. They're in school all day. You won't bother her. Call her if you need anything. Will you do that?"

"I suppose so," Mr. Reston said doubtfully.

"Listen, I have to go now. I can leave here in a few minutes. I only wanted to tell you not to worry about me if you don't hear from me for a while. I'll be working, that's all." He hated to tell his father like this, but there was no way of telling him directly. He would not have understood.

In all of Spence's growing-up years his parents had never understood. They did not comprehend his work, nor could they follow his explanations when he tried to describe it to them. He was simply too far beyond them. He had eventually given up trying to make them understand; he stopped trying to bridge the gap.

The image on the vidphone screen licked its lips nervously and leaned into the picture. "You'll call when you get back?"

"Yes, it's the first thing I'll do."

"I miss you, Spencer."

"I miss you, too, Dad. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, Son. Take care of yourself." The screen went blank.

Spence sat staring at the blank, flickering screen for several moments, then pushed the unit away. It retracted back into a nook in a panel beside the bed. He looked up just in time to see his physician approaching.

"Feeling better, Dr. Reston?" The medic came to stand at the head of his bed. He entered a code on the data screen above the bed and read Spence's chart.

"Feeling fine, Dr. Williams. With a good word from you I'll be on my way," said Spence as cheerfully as he could. "I'm taking up too much of your time."

"Not at all. We're having a special this week. Free tune-ups for all first-time customers. You're a lucky guy."

"Thanks, but if it's all the same to you, I'll take you up on that some other time." He made a move to get up, but a troubled look from the doctor stopped him. "What's the matter?"

"I was hoping you would tell me. "

"I-I don't understand. Have you found something?"

"No, you're perfectly healthy as far as we can determine. But I think we should have a talk."

Spence had a sinking feeling. "There is something wrong."

"I think so, yes." The doctor drew up a stool and sat down beside Spence, who chewed his lip nervously. "Not physically," continued Williams, "that is, at least not in any of the areas we have checked out."

He gazed at his patient intently and Spence got the idea he was being measured for his tensile strength, like a spring being stretched to see how much it could take before snapping. He waited for the tension to break.

"Spence…" The doctor started, then hesitated.

Bad sign, thought Spence. Whenever they use your first name it means trouble.

"Do you have any idea why you're here?" The calm physician's eyes watched him carefully, his face a mask of impassive interest which gave away nothing.

"Yes," Spence laughed. "I tripped over a stool in the lab. I bumped my head, that's all."

"You weren't in your lab, Spence."

Spence had had another blackout-that much he knew. He thought his story about bumping his head had been accepted without question. He cringed at the thought of-what? His memory was blank, and that scared him more than anything.

"No?" Spence asked, more timidly than he would have liked. "Where was I, then?"

"You were in the cargo bay air lock." "Impossible! Who told you that?"

"The workers who found you. They brought you in. And I see no reason to doubt their story; it's on videotape. All air locks are monitored for security."

Spence was dumbfounded. He could not believe what he was hearing.

"There's something else."

He didn't like the doctor's tone of voice. "What's that?" "The air lock was depressurizing. You were bleeding off air preparatory to opening the outer doors."

"That's absurd! Why would I do a thing like that?"

"I don't know, but I'd like to find out." The doctor pulled a thin metallic object out of his pocket and began fingering it.

"Look, if you think I wandered into an air lock and then depressurized it on purpose… you're crazy. That would be suicide!"

The doctor shrugged. "Sometimes people can't take it. They want so badly to get out they don't wait for a shuttle. You were lucky. A cadet saw you heading for the air lock and reported it to the crew chief. There were some workmen in pressure suits nearby. Another few seconds and you'd have been… beyond repair."

"No. I'm not buying it. I'll have to see the tapes before I believe it."

"That can be arranged, of course. But I was hoping you'd level with me. If there is something bothering you I could help."

"You don't understand. I don't know what you're talking about. I tripped and bumped my head. That is all!"

"That's all you remember? Nothing else? No unusual feelings lately, nothing uncomfortable? Other blackouts, perhaps?"

Spence winced at the word "blackouts." Did the doctor know something more? "No, there is nothing else."

The physician sighed heavily.

"What are you going to do now? I mean, what will happen to me?"

"Nothing. You're free to go."

"But-you won't… I mean, have to…"

"Report this? No, I don't think so. You don't seem to me to be in any immediate danger. You are stable, in other words."

"Thanks," Spence said darkly. "Then I can go?"

"Yes, but I hope you will remember that my door is openif you think of anything else, or want to talk about it further."

"I'll remember."

Spence swung himself down from the high bed and followed Dr. Williams out of the room. In the small reception office he turned aside and pressed the access plate. As the partition slid open he turned to nod to the physician who still watched him closely.

"Thank you, Dr. Williams. Good-bye."

"One other thing, Dr. Reston." With a sideways glance the medic stepped close and whispered, "You don't have any enemies… do you?"