The Second Ship (The Rho Agenda #1)(55)

“What was all that business about knowing what you’re becoming?” asked Mark.

“Sometimes dreams don’t make any sense,” said Heather.

“That wasn’t the feeling I got from this one.”

“Then why don’t you tell us what you think it means,” Heather snapped and immediately regretted her reaction.

Mark stood and began pacing slowly back and forth, reminding Heather of herself. “I don’t think the Rag Man guy is planting the dreams. It seems more likely that Heather’s subconscious mind is worried about what is happening to her.”

Jennifer’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, Heather’s subconscious mind? We were all having the dream.”

Mark stared out into the backyard. “Maybe.”

“There’s no maybe to it,” Heather replied.

Mark turned to look into her eyes. “I think we may be suffering from a residual link with the headsets.”

“Can’t be,” said Jennifer. “That link is a direct tie into our brains. It only works when we have the headsets on.”

“Do we know that?”

“There’s no way the computer has this kind of range.”

“Really? How much range do we have with our little Quantum Twin device?” Mark asked.

“It just doesn’t feel like that is the cause,” said Heather. “Have either of you accessed the computer from here? I can’t.”

“Well,” said Jennifer, “I hope it was a freak event. I don’t really want to be sharing your weirdo dreams.”

“Speaking of the QT device,” said Heather, quickly changing subjects. “Since we haven’t been back to the ship, we have no idea what else it may have recorded.”

“I’m not sure I want to know,” said Jennifer. “Even if it turns out to be nothing, they could lock us all up for the spying.”

Mark resumed his seat in the recliner, his white-and-red Nike sneakers dangling over the arm. “Yes. But two life terms in prison isn’t a whole lot worse than one.”

Jennifer’s mouth tightened, but she said nothing.

“Anyway,” Mark continued, “we’re all becoming something more than we were, no matter what the dream means. We think it’s because the headsets synchronized our brains, but don’t have any idea what new side effects might appear.”

Mark rose to his feet. “I didn’t want to show you guys this, but I think it’s time. Follow me.”

Heather and Jennifer glanced nervously at each other, but followed him up the stairs and into his room. It had been rearranged since the last time Heather visited. The bed and dresser were pushed all the way against one wall to accommodate a weight bench.

The bench took up most of the room. An Olympic weight bar, loaded with two hundred and fifty pounds of weight, rested across hooks at the top of the bench. Another stack of weights lay on the floor nearby.

“Wow,” said Heather. “You’re benching two hundred and fifty pounds?”

Mark’s eyes narrowed. “That’s just for show.”

Mark moved over to the bar, adding two additional fifty-pound plates to each end and then lay down on the bench beneath the elevated bar. Without hesitation, he lifted the bar, pumping it steadily up and down. The weight caused the ends of the bar to droop slightly.

Heather’s eyes bulged. “Oh my God! Mark! That’s four hundred and fifty pounds.”

“Four seventy-five, counting the bar,” Mark said, continuing to evenly knock out repetitions. After several more seconds, he stopped, setting the bar back in its rest. “I could lift more, but these are all the weights we own.”

Jennifer finally found her voice. “But how is that possible? What’s your max lift?”

“That’s just it,” said Mark. “I don’t know. I guess the neural tune-up enables near perfect synchronization of my muscles, making them easier to train and way more efficient. Either that or we’re wrong about our DNA not being affected.”

Thoughts raced through Heather’s head so rapidly that her headache began to worsen. “You could hurt someone, even accidentally.”

Mark sat up. “I’ve been thinking about that. I don’t think so. My reflexes are just too good. So long as I control my temper, no problem.”

Heather’s eyebrows shot up. “So long as you control your temper?”

“We need to get back out to the ship,” said Jennifer. “We have to know what’s happening to us.”

“I don’t get how that’ll help,” said Heather.

“Don’t you see? The medical lab. I think I can figure out how to use that equipment, at least at a rudimentary level, so that we can get some physical readouts and measurements. Maybe there will be some clue indicating the extent of the changes going on in our brains and bodies.”

“Worth a try,” said Mark. “We can, at least, check on the QT device to see if we have any more recordings of Stephenson.”

Heather moved toward the door. “Well, if we’re going, it better be soon. It’s almost noon. I’ll tell mom we’re going out biking. Then I’ll meet you out front.”

Stepping outside into the cold gray light that filtered through the clouds, conditions hardly seemed favorable for a bike ride. Nevertheless, anticipation propelled her onward. As Heather opened her front door, she saw her mother sitting on the couch, her entire attention fixed on the television, a rare scene for the ever-busy Anna McFarland.