A. Warren Merkey

by Far Freedom

  “Do you know where we are?” Daidaunkh inquired.

  He was speaking to her, which Fidelity supposed was a positive sign. She regretted breaking his arm and leg. What was done in the fire of violence seemed convenient at the time but now it appeared very cruel. She would, no doubt, continue to make excuses for her actions. “Yes,” she answered. “Eastern Hemisphere, northern Asia, near the Arctic Circle. It’s interesting to see the mosquitoes like Rhyan blood.” Perhaps her comment was unkind, given his present state, but his response contained some humor.

  “They prefer it. Why are we here?”

  “I don’t know. You seem better. How is your pain?”

  “The pain is doing very well,” Daidaunkh said. “I hurt like hell.”

  “Can I persuade you to not try to kill me until this journey is over?”

  “I can’t imagine why you should have that concern. I’ll stop talking now so I can listen to my bones.” The Rhyan started taking deep breaths with eyes squeezed shut.

  Rafael and Samson crested a rise in the tundra-covered barrens. Rafael walked slowly, partly to stay with Samson and partly because he could move no faster himself. Samson used a piece of antler for a crutch. Rafael watched him carefully, afraid he would fall. He concentrated on the small things now, finding satisfaction in helping the crippled child. He tried to make Samson talk to him, to work out his feelings. From what little Samson had uttered Rafael knew the boy was vastly inexperienced in knowing how other people thought and felt. He reassured him the admiral was more concerned for him than even for herself, and Rafael was sure that was true. “But she is a very complicated person, with things happening inside her that cause her great difficulty. Try to be patient. Everything will be alright.”

  Through the whine of mosquitoes Fidelity heard a woman’s voice. “Move close together.” She turned around to see who spoke to her and saw no one. The hair stood up on the back of her neck as she immediately thought of Samson’s imaginary friend. So clear was the voice that she accepted it as proof that Milly was real. She wanted Milly to be real, to prove Samson was not mentally ill. With no other prospect of hope for their situation, she heeded the words. She looked at the man and boy who approached. She looked back into the low sun at the crippled Rhyan who lay on the ground. She stepped back to Daidaunkh. She knelt and waited for Samson and Rafael. The old man and the boy stopped a short distance away and stared at her. She beckoned to them. Rafael limped forward. Samson remained away.

  “Our little camping pit is over there,” Rafael said upon reaching her. “Is there something wrong with it?”

  ” You remember we didn’t stay on the island very long.”

  “They know where to find us.”

  “Samson,” she called. “Samson, listen to me.” Samson slipped down to sit on the ground, letting the antler fall. He didn’t look toward Fidelity. The low sun reflected off tears in his Asian eyes. “Samson, Milly says to stay together.” Fidelity was stern with him on the island, feeling that he was demanding too much of her. She was unaccustomed to providing emotional support to a child and was disturbed by his rapid shifts in mood. She thought she would need to go to him and fetch him back but he finally turned a questioning face toward her. After a moment of consideration he leaned over and put his hands on the ground. He walked himself across the ground on hands and knees, reached Fidelity’s side, and pulled within the circle of her arms. She hugged him, glad he came to her.

  “Milly is a big liar,” Samson said.

  “What do we wait for?” Rafael asked. In answer to his question, the sun disappeared, and along with it the sky and the land. Air pressure changed with a gentle clap. Darkness enveloped them.

  “What?” Daidaunkh said in the dark. Then he swore in his native language and gave a serious grunt caused by pain.

  The ground shifted beneath her but then stabilized. Daidaunkh and Rafael both tilted away from her on either side. Fidelity got up and carried Samson to a glass door. Outside she could see other buildings, a few lights in windows, and stars in the night sky. “We’re back in Florida.” She had consulted her ephemeris and her time standard - functions of her data augments. She noted that no time passed during the translation to this location. A transmat would have required a large fraction of a minute to process four entities. She could only assume her augments were in error.

  Daidaunkh wasn’t so quick to assume misperception. “That wasn’t a transmat. And I’m still sitting on tundra.”

  Fidelity found a chair in the dark and set Samson in it. She walked over and operated a manual light switch next to a door. The room filled with light. Rafael and Daidaunkh occupied a circular mound of arctic soil whose outer area had collapsed by fracturing, exposing the dark subsoil. She rushed back to help Rafael and Daidaunkh off of the mound, even as it defied her imagination to explain it how it was caused. Daidaunkh was correct. They were moved by something that wasn’t a transmat. The undefinable implication felt both fantastic and dire. She studied the mass of earth and recorded images of it for later analysis.

  “This is my home!” Daidaunkh declared, casting his gaze about the room. A few pieces of old furniture sparsely populated a living room. There was a kitchen next to the double glass door that opened to a balcony. A hallway led to other rooms.

  “I’m hungry,” Samson complained.

  “Where’s the toilet?” Fidelity inquired of Daidaunkh.

  He saw the image of a small circle of bright pink tile lying in the shadow within a pit of dark soil. It took Pan a few moments to realize how perfectly formed the pit was. It was a section of a sphere. Then his mind seized the clues of geometry and mismatched material and connected him to another series of images from nowhere that threatened him with dangerous information. He knew Etrhnk was aware of his reaction. He could not moderate his response. It came too suddenly and too vividly, only to be snatched away toward oblivion. Despite himself, Pan tried to grab something of it, wanting an explanation for himself of what was happening to him.

  His Marine guards had exited, leaving Pan alone with the Navy Commander. Etrhnk turned away from the still image on the wall of his meeting room. He looked at Pan and showed no clue that he observed the data of Pan’s reactions.

  Only the length of his stare might indicate something. “Tell me what you think it is.”

  All Pan could do was shake his head.

  “You are still alive,” Etrhnk said, “because you dared question my ‘algebra of ethics.’ You know things that I believe are of great importance to me. Important to me. But you made me examine the moral equations. I haven’t found their solution. I am tempted to make a corollary to the Golden Rule so that I may do to you that which you would do to me, if you were in my position.”

  “That fails as a corollary.”

  “Logically, yes, but you don’t understand my personal stake in this matter. You know what caused this image. You know too much because I showed it to you. I know too much because I made it happen. Our lives are forfeit. Perhaps not immediately, but soon. What more can it cost you to verify this one fact to me?”

  Pan could think of no reason now not to respond with the truth. He also found it intensely interesting to know Etrhnk had put his own life in jeopardy by his experiment on Demba. “What I see is the evidence of an active gate. Someone was transferred from that location to another where the floor was made of pink tile. I assume Admiral Demba was transferred. I assume you understand that gates have no limit to their range.”

  Etrhnk turned back to the image wall and made it change into a recording of activity. Pan saw Demba, Daidaunkh, Rafael, Samson. He heard them speak. He saw them gather together on the plain of tundra. He saw them disappear.

  “Where did you send them?” Pan asked.

  “I did not send them.”

  ” You said you made it happen.”

  “I use a transmat for my experiment, not a gate. It happened because I included the boy.”

  “Why the boy? Why all of them? Why any of them?�
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  “This is a game dead men play,” Etrhnk said, dramatically for all the absence of drama in his voice. “I am unethically pleased you could join me.”

  When the Opera Master was removed, the Golden One came into the room and looked at the image on the wall. “Now you’ve done it,” she said, smiling. “You’re not dead yet, but you keep trying! Why did you move them again? Why did you move them in the first place?”

  “You won’t let me kill her.”

  “I don’t think you were ever going to kill her,” Constant said, “but I gave you a convenient reason to keep her alive. You’re rather interested in her, I think. I never have thought you were the killer your barbarians’ legend has made you. How many did you actually kill with your bare hands?”

  “As many as necessary.”

  “Yet the number grows at each Game, when the booze starts to flow.”

  “It is the efficiency with which I killed that may have impressed them.”

  “But you don’t really care for the killing,” she said thoughtfully, moving to where she could capture his gaze. He always tried to look away from her. “My fellow aliens were rather concerned when I chose to meet you alone. ‘Look, he’s got to be thinking about his last days of life. He’s different. He may harm you, even kill you. He has nothing to lose.’ Would you comment on that, Etrhnk?”

  “I’ll not harm you,” he replied, pausing only briefly to wonder at his own impenetrable reasons. Perhaps, if he was so noble of character, it was the devastation The Lady would bring upon the Essiin and probably many other

  peoples as revenge. The Golden Ones were sacred to The Lady; billions would die if one of them were harmed or killed. He felt not even an illogical urge to commit an act of violence against this immortal Golden One. Constant was trying to make him feel something and that was an endeavor he could faintly appreciate on the basis of her curiosity. He could understand curiosity. She smiled at him. How many muscles were required to form a smile? Were all of his atrophied?

  “Eat while you can,” Fidelity ordered her ward.

  “I don’t like this food,” Samson complained, wrinkling his nose.

  “We may not be here long.” It was a little game they played, she decided, something to keep her attention and at the same time relieve the pressure of his emotions.

  “I’m tired. Can we go home?”

  “There is no home. It burned down.”

  “I want to see Gator. We didn’t bury him.”

  “Eat. I have to take care of Daidaunkh.”

  “Why? He doesn’t like us. We don’t like him.”

  “He’s injured and he has only us to help him.”

  “He wouldn’t help us if we were injured.”

  “Are you sure? Do you think it’s right to not help him?”

  “He doesn’t even have good food in his kitchen.”

  She passed by a quiet Rafael and took his hand, gently urged him to his feet. He had been without sleep for too long, unless his frequent catnaps were effective. He followed her into the bedroom where Daidaunkh lay on a futon on the floor. Rafael knelt on one side of the Rhyan and Fidelity knelt on the other.

  “I have a knife in that drawer,” Daidaunkh said. “I assume you know where to stick it in me to stop the pain.”

  “Would that be a kindness to you?” Fidelity asked.

  “I suppose it would. Never mind, then. I can’t have you being kind to me.”

  “Indeed. In fact, I’m here to hurt you more. I need to adjust your splints. I have better material to bind them with. I hope I haven’t destroyed an article of clothing you wanted to keep.”

  ” You presume I’ll live long enough to need a change of clothing.”

  “Good. You have a sense of humor, such as it is.”

  The hand of Daidaunkh’s unbroken arm reached for her and grasped her forearm tightly. It hurt him to do this and she could see he intended no harm to her. “Perhaps it’s a grim humor, Admiral, but don’t dismiss my words as empty. The only reason I was alive to make my feeble attempt to kill you was Denna. I only lived to see the day she would be happy again. My life is over. I would consider it an ironic honor if you would finish me.”

  ” You’re letting the pain think for you, Daidaunkh.”

  “Don’t waste your breath. I’m not worth it. I’m not worth anything. I killed this man’s wife. Killed her twice. Beheaded her in a drunken rage the first time. Lucky I had a Clinic head-bag in my gear. I loved her. I shouldn’t have made her come with me. She didn’t like coming back to her old home, her old man, where her son died, all of that. I killed her by bringing her with me. She wasn’t as bad as you think. Did you see her face when she shot the dog? She loved animals. She wouldn’t let them kill the tiger that killed her son. I’ve cried for that woman every day for twenty years. She was broken and we couldn’t fix her. But she could make you laugh, even when you knew she was one word away from bottomless grief. Leave me here. Jarwekh may come to check on my place and find me. Go and hide from this insanity.”

  “They put transponders in our bodies during transmat stasis,” she said. “They can find us no matter where we are. I’ll try to separate myself from you, to see if they will leave you alone.”

  “Who are they?”

  “The transmat is Navy. I’m sure it’s Admiral Etrhnk. The other device is unknown to me.”

  “Why are they doing it?”

  “I don’t know. I would assume, if he wanted me dead, Etrhnk could have dumped me into a volcano or any of a thousand other lethal places. I’m guessing Samson has something to do with whatever the motivation may be.”

  “Why the boy?”

  She had no answer for him. She looked across the Rhyan to Rafael. “Rafael, how are you holding up? You know it was an accident that we killed your wife.”

  “Not ‘we.’ Me. I killed her. I felt the board crush her neck. Yes, it was an accident, but it doesn’t lessen the guilt.”

  “Did you even know it was your wife? Your wife was African.”

  “I knew she changed her appearance. I knew Daidaunkh and that she consorted with him. God knows, I may have wanted to hurt her. I thought I was long past such selfish feelings. But I see now that my hermit’s life has been the ultimate act of selfishness. Perhaps I could have helped her if I remained available to her, reached out to her from time to time. We all failed her, Daidaunkh, but I most of all.”

  “Hopefully, she’s finally at peace,” Daidaunkh said.

  She inspected and adjusted Daidaunkh’s splints as gently as possible. Fidelity rose and started to leave. Rafael placed a restraining hand on her forearm. “I worry that even if you leave us there will continue to be trouble. I’m too aged and weak to protect Samson from all the dangers.”

  “There’s little we can do about it. Find him a new crutch. Eat. Get some rest. I suspect I’ll not get far, and the journey will continue.”

  She took Daidaunkh’s knife. She stopped in the kitchen to write a note on a piece of paper. She saw that Samson ate everything on his plate and now slept on the sofa. Rafael followed her to the door. Before she opened the door, Fidelity turned and put a hand on Rafael’s shoulder. “If you never see me again, think about life, Rafael. Think about Samson.”

  “I think he is your child more than anyone else’s, Fidelity. You also think about Samson.”

  She opened the door. He locked it behind her.

  She saw few people in the neighborhood of Daidaunkh’s apartment. All of them retreated at her approach. Dark buildings and dark streets surrounded her. She walked toward distant light, then picked up her pace to a loping jog. A cat ran in front of her and she dodged it. Just as she dodged the cat she felt the tingle of a transmat reference field and pulled away from it. She tried to run a random route down the street to avoid capture. It was only a matter of time before the transmat operator guessed correctly and she was paralyzed by the web of the reference field.

  Section 020 Calling the Moon

  Jon Horss had to be doi
ng something, and since it was a Mnro Clinic vehicle he chose to do it in, Sugai Mai felt justified in accompanying him. They flew down the dark avenue. She allowed Horss to pilot the vehicle again, not thinking he would go so fast. She was getting used to the speed, reassured by his piloting skill. Horss slowed the ambulance, kept the window open, studied the pavement and the buildings. Mai wondered what he expected to see. He halted their forward motion and directed the aircar upward. They came to rest at the third floor of a 20th-century apartment building.

  “There,” Horss said.

  “Where? What?”

  “Those windows are cleaner than the others. It should be an occupied apartment. I suppose entrance doors are designed to resist assault in these neighborhoods?”

  “Probably. Mine is, and I live in a better neighborhood.”

  Horss maneuvered the aircar over the building and to a narrow balcony on the other side of the same floor. He let the aircar drift over the edge of the balcony and slowly ram the glass door with its tapered front end. The glass shattered into thousands of small pieces. He put the vehicle into station-keeping mode and exited, dropping onto the balcony with athletic agility.

  “Hey!” Mai complained.

  She emerged from the aircar door, ready to drop down but hesitating because of the height. Horss came back and coached her down, taking her legs in his arms to lower her to the balcony. She turned around in close contact with him, then pushed away from him before she did something foolish. That she even allowed thoughts of such possibilities was a warning of how strong her feelings had become. She wasn’t used to this male-female thing. She was constantly rethinking the prospect of having a baby as a result of being in the company of Captain Jon Horss. She had long ago forgotten the biological urges that nagged at her when near a man like Jon. Look, she even thought of him by his first name! Sex. The wrong time. The wrong person. “He’s not here,” she said, peering into the darkness beyond the shattered door, annoyed that her hand strayed over to clutch his shirt sleeve.