how old the Somnium is, so ‘ever recorded’ is a long time.”
They were going to air it out. Finally. This was healthy for open communication, wasn’t it? Unfortunately, the expression on his face boded ill for her peace of mind.
“Those aren’t rumors. Those are facts,” she said. “It’s not particularly upsetting to learn that facts are being discussed by our peers.”
“They say someone’s dragging it out on purpose to make trouble. And the fact is—since you like facts—you should be out of my bed by now so I could get some damn sleep.”
Because he looked so exhausted, stalking around the room like a caged lion, arguing with her and growling.
“If they think I’m dragging it out, they’re idiots. I don’t like sleeping with you either.” Once she’d given up on a relationship with Zeke, she’d looked forward to being assigned to her own bunk after phase one. She’d share her space with others but not her bed.
“Then you should work harder.” He threw up a hand in disgust. “Nightly rotation is tying me down for field duty and other shit, and it’s causing problems. You’re L5, Maggie. You should be strong enough to hold a shield and ace any alucinator skill that exists, outside of whatever the hell curators do. We should be in the final phase of training like Rhys and your brother. You should be almost ready to contribute to the Somnium instead of restricting my ability to contribute.”
“Why are you complaining? You don’t want to mentor other people anyway.” Divisions all over the world, along with an uptick in wraiths, had experienced an uptick in neo awakenings. Most mentors juggled several students at once but could only handle one in nightly rotation due to certain repercussions of too much time spent in the dreamsphere. “As long as we’re in phase one, you’re safe from more students.”
He shook his head. “I don’t mean mentoring. God. They may never force me to take on another neo after this mess.”
“So that’s a benefit,” she said. “You’re welcome.”
“Be serious, Maggie. I need to go on more field assignments. I need to be scanning, not sleeping with you. I’m a sentry. I gotta be out there killing wraiths.”
The planet was divided into several divisions, and each area in those divisions had seven sentries, appointed by their vigils. Sentries handled field operations, base and waystation oversight, and scanned for dreamsphere disruptions. They directed the alucinators under them to cover the area. Sentries were hands on, doing all the jobs they asked others to do.
“I’m not stopping you from going into field. I’ve gone with you.” She’d been given the role of driver on missions, since it kept her safe in the van. Supposedly safe in the van.
“And you get in the way, like last week when you nearly got your arm torn off.”
They’d been collaring an L2 neonati in DC at the time. She’d remained in the vehicle, as ordered, but had still disrupted the mission. “I can’t help it if the wraiths come after me.”
“That’s why you need to learn to deal with them when they do. In and out of the sphere. I’m doing my part. Now do yours. Step the hell up. Right now that means take off your robe and get your ass in bed.”
“Fine.” She slammed the magazine on his desk and stomped across the cold floor. Her fuzzy pink robe fell to the tile in a heap. She should be better in the dreamsphere. She really should. But she couldn’t overcome her aversion to the sphere any more than she could her attraction to Zeke—and the aversion was easier to understand.
Dreamspace was formless, creepy and leaden. It wasn’t restful or right. Her unease remained despite Zeke demonstrating how to manipulate it, despite her devotion to book learning. It wasn’t enough to understand the sphere academically. Alucinators could protect themselves and others. They could communicate across the globe via the dreamsphere. They could scan for manifestations,
They were going to air it out. Finally. This was healthy for open communication, wasn’t it? Unfortunately, the expression on his face boded ill for her peace of mind.
“Those aren’t rumors. Those are facts,” she said. “It’s not particularly upsetting to learn that facts are being discussed by our peers.”
“They say someone’s dragging it out on purpose to make trouble. And the fact is—since you like facts—you should be out of my bed by now so I could get some damn sleep.”
Because he looked so exhausted, stalking around the room like a caged lion, arguing with her and growling.
“If they think I’m dragging it out, they’re idiots. I don’t like sleeping with you either.” Once she’d given up on a relationship with Zeke, she’d looked forward to being assigned to her own bunk after phase one. She’d share her space with others but not her bed.
“Then you should work harder.” He threw up a hand in disgust. “Nightly rotation is tying me down for field duty and other shit, and it’s causing problems. You’re L5, Maggie. You should be strong enough to hold a shield and ace any alucinator skill that exists, outside of whatever the hell curators do. We should be in the final phase of training like Rhys and your brother. You should be almost ready to contribute to the Somnium instead of restricting my ability to contribute.”
“Why are you complaining? You don’t want to mentor other people anyway.” Divisions all over the world, along with an uptick in wraiths, had experienced an uptick in neo awakenings. Most mentors juggled several students at once but could only handle one in nightly rotation due to certain repercussions of too much time spent in the dreamsphere. “As long as we’re in phase one, you’re safe from more students.”
He shook his head. “I don’t mean mentoring. God. They may never force me to take on another neo after this mess.”
“So that’s a benefit,” she said. “You’re welcome.”
“Be serious, Maggie. I need to go on more field assignments. I need to be scanning, not sleeping with you. I’m a sentry. I gotta be out there killing wraiths.”
The planet was divided into several divisions, and each area in those divisions had seven sentries, appointed by their vigils. Sentries handled field operations, base and waystation oversight, and scanned for dreamsphere disruptions. They directed the alucinators under them to cover the area. Sentries were hands on, doing all the jobs they asked others to do.
“I’m not stopping you from going into field. I’ve gone with you.” She’d been given the role of driver on missions, since it kept her safe in the van. Supposedly safe in the van.
“And you get in the way, like last week when you nearly got your arm torn off.”
They’d been collaring an L2 neonati in DC at the time. She’d remained in the vehicle, as ordered, but had still disrupted the mission. “I can’t help it if the wraiths come after me.”
“That’s why you need to learn to deal with them when they do. In and out of the sphere. I’m doing my part. Now do yours. Step the hell up. Right now that means take off your robe and get your ass in bed.”
“Fine.” She slammed the magazine on his desk and stomped across the cold floor. Her fuzzy pink robe fell to the tile in a heap. She should be better in the dreamsphere. She really should. But she couldn’t overcome her aversion to the sphere any more than she could her attraction to Zeke—and the aversion was easier to understand.
Dreamspace was formless, creepy and leaden. It wasn’t restful or right. Her unease remained despite Zeke demonstrating how to manipulate it, despite her devotion to book learning. It wasn’t enough to understand the sphere academically. Alucinators could protect themselves and others. They could communicate across the globe via the dreamsphere. They could scan for manifestations,
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