A. Warren Merkey

by Far Freedom

  Rafael looked at Fidelity and back at the tall Rhyan, seeming to plead with each of them. “She can’t be Keshona! She’s a great singer, not a mass murderer.”

  “She is indeed a great singer,” Jarwekh agreed. “I would hate for her to also be Keshona. I didn’t ask the question. I don’t expect an answer. I don’t need to know. I don’t need vengeance. I think the fire went out of me when I was killed by Pan and rejuvenated. For a brief while today I thought I had the fire again. I’m afraid I gave some provocative news to another who still burns. So let my unspoken question be a warning. He will speak the question and will not care what you answer. But I’ve heard you sing and I prefer to believe you are the singer Pan seeks, not the murderer who destroyed my family. I am ashamed and dishonored for my actions.”

  Jarwekh began to back into the dark. Fidelity was shocked as the praise of her singing began to have meaning for her. How could she be that good as a singer? She held up a hand to stop Jarwekh from leaving. She responded to the big Rhyan emotionally, strangely grateful to be called a great singer, as though that should have special meaning for her. But she had received the first evidence of her crime from within her own self and knew she was guilty.

  “Tell him nothing!” Rafael pleaded. “Or tell him you’re not Keshona!”

  She looked sadly at Rafael as she spoke to Jarwekh. “Here’s the truth, Jarwekh. I may have been Keshona. I don’t trust yet what I think are my lost memories. What I want to believe is that too many people have wasted their lives hating a person who could never have wanted to do what she did. The body of that person may stand before you, but whoever I am, even though I accept the guilt and the punishment, I’m not her.”

  Jarwekh came out of the dark beyond the doorway and stared at Fidelity for a long time. Rafael rose to stand between him and Fidelity. Jarwekh towered over the old man. Finally Jarwekh seemed to come to a decision and his posture relaxed. “I was always large,” Jarwekh said, placing a hand gently on Rafael’s shoulder. “I could bully others because of it. My mother kept warning me to stay out of trouble. She always told me to put myself in the shoes of a smaller person and try to imagine how they would feel. I lacked that sensitivity for some time. My father told me that, big as I was, there was always someone bigger, and that I would learn a painful lesson one day. I did. Only then did my sensitivity develop. Only then did I begin to see that others were as full of life and desire as I was.

  “I’ve spent a lifetime trying to imagine what kind of person would kill ten million Rhyan, including my parents. I dared imagine the person could be not different from me, but simply unfortunate to have been given the task. I never imagined a wonderful singer could have done that evil deed. If she did, I forgive her, because I know she suffered for it and truly couldn’t have ever wanted to do it. Good night, Admiral Demba, Rafael.” Jarwekh disappeared into the night.

  “Damn,” Rafael said. “Damn!” For a long time he stood looking at the darkness beyond the doorway. When he turned back around Fidelity awaited his reaction. From now on she would always expect judgment and loss. She who never had friends would always have none. He looked away from her, then frowned and met her gaze. “I always make the mistake of falling in love with an image of the person and not wanting them to be less than how perfect I can make them. You were so strong and yet so tender, a wonderfully complex figure. You had secrets and depth and power, yet you could be a mother to the boy and humor an old man who thinks he can still paint. It isn’t correct for me to make a fantasy of you. It didn’t help that Pan was so captivated by you. And your appearance in the night carrying a wounded child certainly affected me greatly. I listen to myself now, and I know I’m an old fool. And I don’t care! How am I to judge where reality overcomes fantasy? Did you kill millions? Did you save billions? That was a long time ago. All I see now is a woman wearing a yellow dress, standing in my studio, who can sing like an angel.”

  She felt some relief. At least in the short time remaining she would have a valued friend. “You’re the ultimate romantic, Rafael.”

  “No, that would be Pan.”

  Jarwekh materialized in the transmat terminal. As the reference field released him to consciousness, he started at the crowded chamber. He saw Daidaunkh first, standing apart from the others but not far from Denna. Then his gaze swept around and found Captain Horss and Fred the android. The postures and the weapon in Daidaunkh’s hand told Jarwekh the plot of things. He stepped down from the transmat focus and walked toward Daidaunkh. He stopped when Daidaunkh made a slight gesture with his weapon. Daidaunkh didn’t trust him. Daidaunkh trusted no one.

  “I heard her sing,” Jarwekh said. “Pan was correct. She is a great singer.”

  “She sang for you, did she?” Daidaunkh said, sounding fairly sober. “I never knew you had such a way with women.”

  “It was Rafael who found a way to make her sing.” Jarwekh knew it was hopeless to explain and delay with words. “She listened to a recording and remembered how to sing the song. I was quite moved. This is the truth.”

  “That’s all? You listened to her sing a song and you came back? Why did you go there at all, and without me?”

  “I didn’t know we had a plan to go tonight.”

  “The Marines are in town,” Denna said. “They’re snooping around, asking questions. The Boss is on the Navy flagship and may not come back down. Would that be why you picked tonight to go visit the admiral at Rafael’s?”

  “I discovered in the communications log that he talked to Admiral Etrhnk,” Jarwekh answered. “I did see an opportunity to have my own visit with Admiral Demba and ask her a question.”

  “What was your question?” Daidaunkh demanded. “What was her answer?”

  “I didn’t ask the question, after I heard her sing.”

  “What kind of fool are you?” Daidaunkh exclaimed. “I sensed there was something different about you the moment you appeared. I hoped you killed her. But she killed you. Get out of the way! I have my own question to ask!”

  “You’ll have to kill me first. Before you can finish with me, Fred or the Captain will be on you.”

  ” She is Keshona!” Daidaunkh declared. “I can see the truth in your eyes! You let her lie to you, knowing it was a lie!”

  ” She answered the question I did not ask. She was Keshona. And I will not let you kill her unless you first kill me.” Jarwekh took another step toward Daidaunkh.

  Daidaunkh quickly grabbed Denna by her blonde hair, snatched her up against him, and put the weapon’s muzzle to the base of her skull. “Denna will be first to die, not you! I’ll give her the final death, if you don’t step aside and send us both to Rafael’s. You know I’ll do it. She wants to die. It will be a kindness. Then I’ll kill as many of the rest of you as I can.”

  Jarwekh took another step forward. Daidaunkh forced the weapon brutally up under the blonde hair. “Do it, do it, do it,” Denna whispered over and over.

  “Is there some place you and Samson can hide?” Fidelity asked.

  “Into the darkness,” Rafael replied. “Into the trees. Do you intend to stay and fight?”

  “Yes.”

  “No! You don’t know how many old Rhyans are on Earth! There is room within the barrier for us to hide for a long time, at least until morning.”

  “And in the morning?”

  “Perhaps Pan will have returned. What else can we do?”

  Fidelity thought Etrhnk would detain Pan indefinitely, now that she remembered how important Pan was in the War. She couldn’t count on him returning soon. Obviously she couldn’t see Captain Horss wanting to help her, except if he thought Samson was endangered. She would take Samson and Rafael into retreat, but she felt it was not the final solution to the threat of the Rhyans. Ironically, Etrhnk was probably the only one who could save her - save her for himself.

  Rafael rushed to gather food and a few supplies in the dark while Fidelity went to wake Samson. She dressed him and picked him up, since he seemed unable to come c
ompletely awake. She heard a loud noise in the house and angry muttering from Rafael. He came to them in the dark and limped after them as they exited the house.

  They hurried through the humid night and into the trees, Fidelity still carrying Samson. Gator growled and lagged behind. Rafael stopped and took hold of the big dog by his collar. Through the silhouetted branches they could see the first small flames race up the side of the studio.

  “The paintings!” Fidelity cried.

  “There’s nothing we can do,” Rafael said.

  ” Stay here.” She put Samson down and started toward the flames.

  “No, don’t go back! We can keep running. They won’t find us.”

  “You’re too aged to run all night. And you’re limping.”

  “I bruised my shin on a table in the dark. I can go on.”

  “No one has the right to destroy your life’s work.”

  “It’s too late! You can’t stop the fire!”

  “Everyone should be held accountable for their actions. Including me. Stay here.”

  Daidaunkh pulled Denna up the ramp to the focus of the transmat, his weapon still jammed tightly against her head. He stopped just short of the focus and worked the controls. “I’m changing the password. The machine doesn’t know me, so it will require your authentication.” He addressed Jarwekh. “Move slowly. Don’t even think about trying to save Denna.”

  The emitter barrel of the pistol hurt Denna’s neck and Daidaunk’s grasp on her hair hurt her scalp. She had first reacted to his use of her as a hostage as the opportunity to die quickly and permanently. Then she remembered the boy. When the transmat winked them into the protected zone of Rafael’s residence, she shoved Daidaunkh away from her.

  “Give me the weapon!” she demanded.

  “What? Why?”

  “I don’t care what you do to the admiral, but I’ll kill you if you harm the boy!”

  ” You can kill me anyway! But wait until I rip her heart out!”

  “She’s an admiral, Daida. An old admiral. She must know how to defend herself.”

  “It doesn’t matter! Even if she kills me, it doesn’t matter! I will have my turn at her!” He pointed to the studio. “I’ll look there. The light’s still on. You take the house.”

  A few minutes later Denna rejoined Daidaunkh and they stood in the yard between buildings.

  “Not there,” Denna reported.

  “I think they just left,” Daidaunkh said. “Jarwekh warned them. They’re hiding in the trees. I no longer have my military augments. It will be difficult to trap them. The admiral should be able to see and hear better than I.”

  “I don’t like this place!” Denna complained. “Too many memories!” She made an adjustment on the pistol. She pointed it at the house. In a few seconds the wood siding started to char and smoke, then a hole punched through the wall and something inside ignited.

  “What are you doing?” Daidaunkh protested, reaching to take the weapon away from Denna.

  “Burning my past!” She dodged his grasp and pointed the pistol at the studio. It took only seconds for fire to erupt inside. The flames built into an inferno on either side of them. They didn’t see the figure in a yellow dress until she arrived very near them. “I remember that dress!” Denna shouted. “That’s my dress! You can’t wear my dress!”

  Daidaunkh heard her words above the roar of the fire. He stopped her when she aimed the weapon at the admiral. He bent close and spoke into Denna’s ear. “Don’t shoot her! Even if she kills me! Leave her for another to kill.” He approached the admiral, coming close enough that she could hear him when he raised his voice. “Are you the one who was called Keshona?”

  “Part of me was. What is your name?”

  “Daidaunkh!”

  “Daidaunkh, House of Illiiandh, son of Daisaukh and Ciriaandh. You’re a long time into your family years. Where are your wife and children? I know your Intended died in the Massacre, but there are always others who would help you continue your house.”

  She spoke the Rhyan royal language flawlessly, startling Daidaunkh. “How do you know of me? Is it your hobby to know the survivors of the Massacre? Why would you possess such knowledge so close to your tongue?”

  “I don’t know, Daidaunkh. It’s a surprise to me as well. Why do you burn the life and great works of Rafael de LaGuardia? It isn’t right.”

  ” She hates this place where her son was born and died.” Daidaunkh indicated his female companion. “Denna burns it. I don’t think it will make her any happier.”

  “What will make you happier?” Fidelity watched the Rhyan but also studied the blonde woman who claimed ownership of the yellow dress. Denna. That name was in the title of Rafael’s most important portraits. His wife… a different color… but the eyes… yes, the eyes.

  “You murdered my family!” the Rhyan shouted at her. “My Intended! The family of my Intended! And so many other Rhyan! You ask a needless question!”

  “Nothing you do will make you happier tonight. All that remains of Keshona is what will continue your suffering. You’ve found her body, but I beg you to wait for another time to have your revenge.”

  “Is that all you have to say?”

  “Yes.”

  The Rhyan moved quickly and the first blow grazed Fidelity. She observed the attack by Daidaunkh as though standing apart from the two persons engaged in combat and watching at a slow rate of time. Again and again her avatar allowed her larger opponent near contact but no effective strikes.

  “I told you!” Denna shouted. ” She’s just playing with you!”

  Fidelity sensed a change in the Rhyan, a turn toward desperation, an elevation to frenzy. Daidaunkh rushed her, giving up his defenses, gambling that he could absorb some punishment in order to inflict a greater damage to Fidelity. She moved, just enough, not taking advantage of his tactic but simply avoiding him - much as she did with Captain Horss - waiting for him to tire. That she could react so quickly, that she could anticipate so accurately, still amazed her. That she could have the time and perspective to think about such things in the heat of combat further impressed her. Who was she? What was she?

  Finally understanding she wouldn’t move against him, Daidaunkh paused to catch his breath.

  “The boy, Daida!” Denna shouted over the firestorm. “The boy!” The roar of combustion could not wash away the pain in her words. She waved the weapon and appeared greatly agitated.

  Fidelity turned to see Samson hopping on his one leg toward her, trying to hold onto a dog bigger than he was. Gator broke loose, rushed by her, barking a warning or a challenge. Denna shot the dog and he collapsed, plowing into the ground at her feet. Fidelity felt the fringe of the weapon’s beam and knew Gator received a paralyzing shock to his nervous system. He died instantly. Denna looked down on the dog, almost dropping the weapon as she staggered back a few steps. Daidaunkh chose the moment of distraction to charge Fidelity. Without even looking at him, she caught his wrist and made him turn in a direction he could only resist. She felt one of his forearm bones snap. As he spun into the ground she caught his lower leg under her foot and broke it.

  Samson tried to hop past Fidelity to Gator but she put a hand out to stop him. Samson looked with grave concern at the still body of Gator. Daidaunkh struggled briefly on the ground until the extent of his injuries forced him into a painful stillness.

  Denna held the weapon on Fidelity, her eyes - her famous tragic eyes, blue not brown - darting to Gator, to Daidaunkh, to Samson, and back to Fidelity, clearly afraid to look away from her for too long. “Are you badly hurt?” Denna called to Daidaunkh. He turned his face away from her.

  “Gator!” Samson called out to the dog. “Gator! Get up, Gator! Come here!”

  The firelight sparkled on Denna’s garment and inflamed her blonde hair. When she turned in just the right direction her eyes glowed like opals. Demons of emotion chased each other across her perfect features. She held her weapon unsteadily, not pointing it directly at Fidelity
, perhaps reluctant to fire with Daidaunkh and Samson so close to her. Fidelity was almost certain the woman would not shoot. She felt empathy for Denna and great disappointment in herself for having forced this confrontation.

  “Tell me what to do, Daida!”

  Daidaunkh only looked up at Fidelity, and though his dark eyes were full of hate for her, he said nothing and would not turn to Denna.

  “I can’t wait any longer!” Denna shouted in agony.

  Fidelity saw Rafael behind Denna and let surprise change her expression. Denna reacted to her and tried to see who was behind her. Fidelity rushed forward, hoping to prevent injury to both Denna and Rafael. Rafael swung a piece of charred lumber, stumbling as he limped hurriedly toward Denna. Denna tried to turn back to Fidelity despite the threat from Rafael.

  “No!” Fidelity cried.

  Rafael seemed desperate to prevent Denna from shooting Fidelity. As Denna turned back to Fidelity she tried to blindly duck the coming blow from Rafael. Rafael’s legs propelled him so unsteadily he couldn’t aim the arc of his club. Just by chance it struck Denna solidly. The weapon fell from her hand. She collapsed in Fidelity’s arms.

  Denna convulsed as Fidelity lowered her carefully to the ground. She knelt beside Denna as she slowed her convulsions and became still. Her opal eyes sparkled in the firelight, released the tragedy of her life, and didn’t close. Rafael dropped to his knees beside her and touched her, stroked her bare arm. Ash fell on them, and Denna’s pale arm was streaked with gray.

  “What have I done?” Rafael cried. “Denna? Denna! Forgive me!”

  “Do you have a head-bag?” Fidelity asked, shivering at the prospect of using such a device.

  “She wouldn’t want that,” Rafael replied mournfully. “That has already happened to her. I killed her! I killed my son and now I’ve killed my wife!”

  Section 015 The Golden Visitor

  Navy Commander Admiral Etrhnk was actually embarrassed, and immediately knew the visit was a prelude to punishment. There was no doubt his visitor was female, even though she was artfully concealed in a high-fashion Essiin ensemble. She was playing at being Essiin, daring to let that glimpse of golden surfaces pass for a body remodeling. That the Essiin could let their sense of aesthetics overbear their logical pursuits always remained a mystery to Etrhnk. He was embarrassed to receive this female in public, not wanting the storm of speculation it would arouse concerning his personal life. Privacy was vital in keeping his power and position. Embarrassment, of course, did not reach beyond the secrecy of his thoughts, and despite the calamity this Golden One might bring, he admired her courage. He was relieved when he finally escorted her into the absolute privacy of his suite on the Eclipse. He was relieved to let his stunted emotions rest from what little they were stimulated.