Echoes of Esharam

by Robert Davies

  She closed her eyes as the images surfaced again, unrelenting and with a terror only the child inside could feel.

  “The flooring had to be replaced because it was soaked in his blood…”

  Qural stood motionless. It was not regret for what happened so long ago she heard in Rantara’s voice; the Sergeant held only hatred and contempt for her attacker. Instead, there was hesitation buried inside the words; subtle at first, but obvious when Qural allowed the clues to gel. Rantara was embarrassed. She knew what the Magistrate—the highest legal authority over the whole of the Khorran people—would see and feel. Raniru Ven herself would experience through the images in Rantara’s memories an indescribable act of savagery few could understand or imagine. It would make plain the reasons so many feared her, shunned and kept on the fringes of her own society. Worse still, the memory of that night would put her brutality on display like a horrific, instructional video describing psychotic, criminal behavior to medical school students at the moment she meant to start over and find a normal life. Qural moved close and spoke in a low, even tone.

  “I do understand. Those moments—what Creel tried to do—were not your fault. You were little more than a child and you defended yourself, Sergeant; there is no shame and you must not ever feel otherwise. Because you carry Jodrall’s Condition does not mean you are a monster!”

  Rantara had learned to avoid the thoughts and blot them out. She couldn’t change what happened long before, but ignoring the memories had become a valuable, acquired skill. Others would be surprised to know she could experience the unsettling torment of buried fears, but their perceptions had never concerned her. Through her adult life, all that mattered was waking up alive each day. At last, given over to the slight possibility of delivery from a nightmare, she turned and said, “When they’re finished restoring Darrien’s memories, I’ll give Haleth what he wants.”

  Qural decided to change the subject.

  “When we demonstrated the Transceptor in the first days after your arrival,” Qural continued, “you experienced Darrien’s memories of your evening out together in Tevem, do you remember?”

  Rantara smiled suddenly at the thought, still delighted Norris had looked so often at her on a splendid summer evening in an outdoor café. “I remember,” she said softly. “It was nice.”

  Qural waited a moment, watching Rantara closely.

  “Extracting memories of this sort can be difficult, especially those we try our best to conceal because they are painful or unpleasant to recall. As this will be your first meaningful connection to the Transceptor, Haleth has asked that you rest a while.”

  “I feel fine,” she answered flatly, but Qural continued.

  “This is not a question merely of your physical condition, Sergeant; your mind must be at ease and free from distraction by other concerns.”

  “What concerns?”

  “He does not wish to insult or provoke you, but Haleth worries your unique personality might make for a state of mind that is not conducive to this process.”

  Rantara understood at last and said, “He means my temper.”

  “He would rather not complicate the matter.”

  “Don’t worry, Ambassador; I’ll do as he asks.”

  They walked on for a time until Rantara stopped, just for a moment, looking past Qural’s shoulder toward the ridgeline above the orchard.

  “When he wakes, what will Darrien find inside those memories?”

  The question was sudden and unexpected. Most thought of Rantara as little more than a physically gifted killing machine—an instrument in the hands of those in authority to use when it suited them. But Qural had learned not to underestimate Rantara’s intellect; the thoughtfulness she heard was surprising, perhaps, but no longer unlikely. In the final days on Kalarive, Inspector Torbal knew it, too, when he found the Sergeant to be much more than she seemed and Qural had learned from his mistake.

  “He will find many things,” she replied. “Darrien was with us a long time, and…”

  “I meant memories of the time he spent alone with you,” Rantara said abruptly.

  Qural swallowed hard and it felt as though the color had drained from her face.

  “Has he mentioned this?”

  “He said you told him there was something more than friendship between you—that you lived together for a while, up in those mountains.”

  There was no point in trying to evade; whatever Norris had told her, Rantara would not tolerate half-truths on so personal a subject. It was surely a matter of time anyway, Qural reasoned, and she decided to face it head-on.

  “Yes, we did. I wanted him to know and understand before the memories were restored so that it would not be difficult or awkward for him, considering now his relationship with you. That was a long time ago, Sergeant; the circumstances…”

  Rantara held up a hand.

  “I’m not asking out of jealousy, Ambassador. He was worried, maybe because he thought hearing it would make me angry, but I was only curious.”

  After a moment, she turned once more and the clear expression of sadness had returned, though Qural could not make out why. Rantara was showing herself to be a most complex personality and the facets now numbered higher than ever before.

  “I’m not the possessive, ignorant savage you believe me to be, Ambassador. As you said, that happened a long time ago, and before I ever knew him; it would be stupid and childish for me to hold it against him—or you—years later. I understand what it took to find and save him from that place; to save him from…from what I was a part of.”

  Again, the subtle torment from her past bled through, working hard to reveal a carefully hidden place where the fears and vulnerabilities of her nature were kept unseen and strictly controlled.

  “I know what you risked by doing it,” she continued, “with or without my help. But more than that, I know you care for him and no matter how unlikely or strange it may seem to you, I am grateful.”

  Qural smiled and nodded; a window had opened as they walked, and though difficult to read at first, she saw the opportunity and knew it would not remain for long. It was risky, from a certain perspective, but her reasons for inquiring further were sound.

  “Sergeant, this has raised a question, but I want to ensure you do not misunderstand my meaning or withdraw from what might seem too personal. May we discuss the Choice?”

  Rantara only nodded with a slight grin, as though she had been waiting for the words all along.

  “You’ve been talking to Tindas.”

  “Yes,” Qural replied cautiously, “but I understand much about Khorran culture and because of this, I am familiar with the changes you are experiencing. However, I did not realize the extent to which it has progressed.”

  Rantara stopped.

  “That’s not a discussion I wanted to have in public, Ambassador; the Professor takes liberties that weren’t his.”

  “Please understand, he mentioned it only to me, and for the sole purpose of ensuring yours and Darrien’s well-being; he did not intend to gossip.”

  Rantara looked away.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Have you discussed this with Darrien?”

  “Not yet.”

  “He is not from our place in the galaxy; he has no understanding of the Choice and his part in it.”

  “I know that.”

  “Would you prefer the Professor made Darrien aware?”

  “No! I don’t want him to hear about it from a stranger.”

  “The Professor is hardly a stranger, Sergeant; in truth, Ommit has known Darrien far longer than you.”

  Rantara’s jaw tightened and Qural moved to ease her.

  “Perhaps we can enlist Banen to this purpose. After all, the Doctor is aware of the Choice from his experiences treating Khorrans in his care, but also, he is Darrien’s doctor; would that be acceptable?”

  “Maybe,” Rantara replied. She was softening again, but slowly.

  “Another Khor
ran would have seen the signs long before and responded properly, simply by natural process, Sergeant. Darrien is human; he cannot be expected to do so because they have no equivalent custom.

  “I’m aware of that, Ambassador, it’s just that…”

  “Have you not made the Choice after all? The Professor is convinced that decision is now settled, at least for your part.”

  Rantara stopped her.

  “Is this a discussion or an interrogation, Ambassador?”

  Qural looked down and said, “I apologize, Sergeant. I am concerned for the effect hearing of this will have on Darrien, but also for you; I know what this means.”

  Rantara turned away.

  “I have decided. It wasn’t easy to consider, after what I did to him before, but none of that could change what he is to me now. It was my task to reflect and decide, and I have; I made the Choice.”

  “Yet something troubles you. Do you suspect Darrien does not regard you in the same way?”

  Qural’s words were coldly direct, but made from an honest and practical question. Still, the meaning they held inflicted an unseen wound as Rantara considered the possible result and she clasped her hands together noticeably as she turned to answer.

  “I don’t know! I…I want to believe he feels as I do, but as you said, he’s human—it’s not the same for them.”

  “Sergeant, I understand enough about the Choice to know delaying will accomplish nothing. Can it be so different for Darrien? I do not wish to offend, but I know him better than anyone; the principles are the same for humans, except for ritual and the obvious absence of Tepseraline. Despite the staggering odds against, even your respective physiologies are nearly identical.”

  “I know it will have to be discussed at some point, but…”

  “The decision is yours, of course, but if I might offer advice from my experience…”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Banen understands, and he is prepared to describe the Choice for Darrien as his doctor if you decide to allow it.”

  Rantara looked again at the tree line where the leaves wobbled and danced in place as a gentle breeze made its way up from the valley. Qural’s concern was real enough—she clearly acted out of friendship and Rantara saw it.

  “All right,” she said at last, “tell Banen I’m leaving it to him.”

  “I will,” Qural smiled.

  She waited for a moment as Rantara walked in a broad circle, tracing shapes into the warm, bare soil with her toe.

  “Sergeant, there is one other question.”

  “Oh?”

  “We know of the conception inhibitor administered to male inmates when they are processed into Bera Nima.”

  Rantara turned away.

  “What about it?”

  “I only mention this because Banen was given treatment to reverse that condition a few days ago by my own physician and…”

  “And?”

  “Was the practice extended to Darrien?”

  Rantara shook her head.

  “No. They didn’t process him in like the others. Tremmek wanted him brought down from a transfer shuttle direct to Banen’s cave on the upper tier.”

  “Banen’s cave?”

  “Their quarters—where they lived inside the chasm walls.”

  “I see,” Qural replied. “May I ask why so fundamental a part of in-processing was bypassed in Darrien’s case?”

  “Tremmek never intended for Darrien to stay that long; he was supposed to have been there only for safekeeping so the scientists couldn’t…”

  “Yes, Sergeant?”

  “The bastards at Voralem wanted to pull everything from his mind—a forced, chemical interrogation that would’ve killed him. They thought he was a spy, sent from Terran space to report on our strategic capabilities and make it easier for the humans to invade.”

  Qural moved close. “Your government knows of their existence?”

  “Not the way you mean. They knew of humans only after our scouts found and captured him on Karroba; Tindas obviously kept Darrien’s first visit seventeen years ago a well-hidden secret from my government.”

  “Why did they suspect he was here to assess your military strength?”

  “Because my people suspect everyone and everything, Ambassador; you, of all people, should know that.”

  “But Colonel Tremmek disagreed?”

  “He didn’t care either way, but he was clever enough to recognize an opportunity. Once he was safely inside Bera Nima, Darrien became a bargaining tool for Tremmek; a valuable commodity he could trade for profit, or maybe a high position in our government.”

  “But the prison is maintained by your government; why could they not remove Darrien?”

  “No one goes to Bera Nima willingly, Ambassador, not even our officials. That is why it is so feared and how it functions as the perfect deterrent; everyone stays away unless they have a reason that is unavoidable, and a secure way to get out again. Darrien was sent there for that purpose—to make sure the researchers could no longer tear his brain apart.”

  “I am familiar with your research station at Voralem, but may I ask how you know these last details?”

  “It was all there in Tremmek’s communication logs. I hacked into them long ago, and it was obvious what he meant to do.”

  Qural’s astonishment was immediate.

  “Colonel Tremmek would seize others and hold them for ransom, even if they were not sent as prisoners?”

  “Of course! Did you think Bera Nima was built to punish only criminals or political prisoners? The Prime Assembly doesn’t interfere because it serves their purpose, even if they’re too cowardly to admit it, so he was free to hold and ransom anyone he liked. More than one official who crossed Tremmek’s masters found themselves on the floor of the chasm, fighting for their lives. If they survived, Tremmek gave them the choice of payment and parole, or a life sentence. Most could arrange for the ransom money and the rest…”

  Qural knew the answer, but she needed to ask just the same.

  “What became of those who could not manage such an arrangement?”

  “If they didn’t cause trouble, they were left to live or die on their own; they were not my concern.”

  “And if they became troublesome?”

  “Then my guards would pull them out of the mud and shit they lived in and bring them to me. I’m sure you already know how that story ends.”

  Qural listened, but after a time, Rantara was becoming restless.

  “It is good that Darrien was not given the inhibitor, Sergeant; he remains normal, at least in that sense.”

  After a while, Rantara looked closely at Qural.

  “Doesn’t speaking of the Life Choice and my affection for Darrien bother you?”

  Qural smiled and shook her head slowly.

  “Our time together was wonderful, but I always knew it was temporary. I remember it for what it was, and so he is like a brother to me now; the romantic, emotional impulses have faded. My comfort is rooted only in his safety and happiness and both are firmly in your hands now. That knowledge brings me much relief and joy.”

  “His happiness?” Rantara snorted. “Darrien is so far from his home, no one knows how far Earth even is, let alone its coordinates! How can he ever be happy, knowing he may not see his family or friends again?”

  “Those questions have answers, Sergeant, I promise. We do know where Earth is; information from the Flash Trap that brought him taught us that long ago. In a few hours, we will speak with him on this subject and when we do, you will understand, too.”

  Rantara suddenly understood the nexus of their discussion meant Darrien might one day go home and, perhaps, his eventual and permanent separation from her. She held her breath, just for a moment, but there was nothing more to say.

  Qural put her hand gently on Rantara’s shoulder.

  “Let us go and see if they are ready.”

  NORRIS WAITED IN Qural’s lower chamber while Haleth prepared the machin
e. Qural and Rantara returned from their walk to find an articulated chair positioned above the Transceptor’s pedestal. This time, Haleth said, Norris would not hover in mid-air by the energy field that would build when the neural connections were made.

  One brilliant light in the upper section of the Transceptor’s emitter poured its harsh light downward to the empty seat as Rentha prepared to adjust it. The others took no notice, but for Norris and Rantara, the effect was immediate—and terrible. He looked at her where she stood staring and when she turned to him, he understood at once the images intruding on her thoughts as he walked quickly toward her.

  “It’s not the same!” he said abruptly, turning her away. “We’re across the quadrant from that place, Onallin; all that is in the past, do you hear me?”

  Qural stood confused and motionless—Tindas and Haleth, too; they couldn’t know what held Rantara in so firm a grip. No one but Norris understood the emotional hammer pounding inside her temples as she was taken once more to the moment she saw him strapped tightly into her interrogation chair deep within Bera Nima’s guard tower months before. They didn’t see Besh delighting in Norris’ agony, even as she watched from the shadows while technicians poured currents of energy through his body, shaking it like a despised, lifeless doll. They had not seen with her eyes all that Besh had done to him until she could take no more, sending for Colonel Tremmek to make it stop. It no longer mattered that she regarded him merely as another prisoner then; Rantara and Norris had been in another darkened chamber with a single chair and strange instruments. Worse still, the others didn’t hear her words or feel the power of her anger; they hadn’t bled onto the floor before her. Only she and Norris knew.

  “Onallin!”

  She jumped at the sound of his voice as it dragged her back from the shadows of another time—another place—where she doled out pain and death as a casual part of the job. She looked at him with eyes of regret and sorrow for what had gone before, but he pulled her close.

  “That’s all in the past now; it’s all right.”

  After a while, Rantara took in a deep breath. In the silence, the others could only wait for the stark and unexpected moment to pass. At last, Qural stepped slowly to where the reclining chair waited.