Insomnia

23

Without another word, Esme left the public dream and returned to her Homespace. The bluebonnets crumpled beneath her feet as she increased the brightness of her sun. Light was no small comfort right now. She summoned Nautilus and a spear of whale bone into her hands. She moved through a few practice exercises, swinging the weapon through the air while changing the colors of individual petals with carefully targeted Psionic strikes. Distract your opponent by hitting them with a weapon then seize the advantage with a Belief. That was Psionic dueling at its core. Her mother walked her through these drills long ago.

Abigail Trahan was a Somnus adept even before the Disaster. After she was blinded that day, she redoubled her efforts in the Dream world - pushing both her daughter and her son to their limits every night, ensuring they would surpass even her in skill. Esme had taken to Somnus more readily than her brother but he was still far better than the average Psion. He lacked the sheer power of members of the Triumvirate, the ability to maneuver many Psionic bursts at a time and the capacity to will unlikely things to occur. But when it came to internal discipline and focus he almost matched Esme's own abilities.

And still the Knightmare was able to beat him.

Esme began carving up the landscape of her Homespace, raising mountains and hurling tidal waves. She threw away her weapon and concentrated solely on Psionic power. In her Homespace, there were no rules to contradict beyond her own expectations. She was limited only by the extent of her own power.

Esme spent several days in seclusion, practicing. She woke only for meals and to exercise. Many Psions relied on drugs to put them to sleep when needed but she had learned how to fall asleep under all conditions when she was a child. It was probably bad for her health but the skill would pay in dividends if it helped her defeat the Knightmare.

It was during one of these practice bouts that an alert drew her attention away. Oz.

"Ready for the Omens meeting tonight? Picking you up at your place in twenty."

She'd actually almost forgotten. Sighing with reluctance, Esme allowed herself to wake up.

It only took her a few minutes to get ready but she took a little while longer to stretch. If she needed to run or fight tonight then best to be prepared. Flexible jeans for movement and a hoodie to cover up what parts of her face might still be visible outside her mask.

Her work with Ceres hadn't prepared her nearly as much as she would have liked but it gave her some idea of what to expect. She could probably mumble her way through whatever rituals the Omens observed and if this meeting was open to Oz, then it was probably forgiving of new members.

Then again, given their twisted Darwinian outlook maybe that was too much to expect.

Esme made her way to her building's lobby. She could see a car pulled up out front in the evening moonlight.

"You ready?" she asked, climbing into the back seat. Oz was seated on her left, scrolling through a touch pad. He folded it back into his pocket when she sat down.

"Yeah. Ready as I'll ever be," he gave a weak chuckle. "This... this isn't exactly what I had in mind when I thought about taking you out sometime."

"Well, strange woman, strange tastes I guess." She saw him fidget nervously. "Hey, don't be scared, alright? Worst comes to worst, we run and call the cops."

Oz nodded uncertainly. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

In that moment Esme decided not to tell him what she'd learned about the Knightmare - especially that he might be watching her. If tonight was a trap too, making him even more terrified wouldn't help either of them. She couldn't blame him for his nerves, however. Esme felt strangely vulnerable in her real body. She had better real world coordination than most Psions, but most instincts she developed in Somnus weren't applicable here. And the poison in their air. She checked her mask.

Filtration System: 100%.

Mask Integrity: 100%.

Air Quality: 90%

Her mask would keep toxins out, but she didn't like that they were more concentrated tonight. Did that make it a bad omen? Esme laughed grimly at the thought.

As the car drove, she noticed that the city grew even more worn. Abandoned. No one lived here. There wouldn't be any air locks save for the occasional shelter and even those would be few and far between.

Their destination was a crumbling parking structure. As Esme stepped out of the car, her heart stopped for a moment. It was a perfect match of the Seed. This was looking more and more like a trap but surprisingly that reassured her. She was on the right track.

There were a few other people gathered there already. More than she expected. They were an eclectic bunch, none dressed alike, save for a few standing at the entrance of the structure in flowing robes. They had a shimmering texture in the pale light. Of course all of them wore masks, most in the standard style with a few custom etchings and designs.

"Welcome," one of the robed figures boomed. A microphone in his mask most likely. "Come. Test yourself. Prove to him that you are worthy."

There was a faint murmur among the rest of the crowd as the hooded ones turned about and walked into the building.

"'Prove to him'?" Oz repeated. "Do you think he's here?"

"In the flesh?" Esme said. "Not likely. Not for a low level meeting like this one. He could be watching remotely though." Oz nodded and moved to follow inside before she reached out a hand to stop him. "Wait. I don't want us to stand out by being the first to go in."

He hung back and they shuffled idly a few moments longer as the other would-be worshippers worked up their nerve. Soon, Esme and Oz were processing through the entrance in the middle of a long line.

As they stepped gingerly over the rubble, Esme realized this place was an almost exact replica of the Seed she'd seen in Vermillion's office. Whether that was because most buildings around here looked like crumbling mounds or that the person who provided the memory had been here before, she couldn't say.

They stopped inside what was once the center of the structure. Its ceiling had fallen away in several places to reveal cascading curtains of moonlight, shimmering with dust. The robed figures had stopped around a wide blanket arranged on the ground.

"Welcome, initiates," one, a woman, said. Her voice was low and muffled behind the mask. "Here, we rest."

"And in Somnus, rise!" the others Omens recited. They fanned out, the first speaker at the center. "Rest, rise! Rest, rise!"

The chant grew quieter as the speaker stepped forward. "Take your ease here, lost ones. So you may join him in paradise." She motioned them closer - to lie down on the soft fabric. Esme and Oz followed. As Esme lay her head back, staring up at the stars, their light diffused and watery through the glass of her mask, she had the surreal impression of being out camping.

Of course she'd never been camping herself. Another borrowed memory.

"I'm going to stay awake," Oz whispered. "Keep an eye on things while you go ahead. Make sure they don't start any trouble."

"Alright. You've got Lucia's number queued up, right? Just in case?"

"Yeah. Got it ready as soon as we got out of the car."

"Okay. Um. Good night? I guess?"

He nodded and she closed her eyes.