by Far Freedom
“I don’t know,” she replied, “but I do know we were moved to Daidaunkh’s apartment by some means other than a transmat.”
“The pile of tundra in the floor?” he asked.
“Matter appears to be exchanged between two locations instantaneously. We arrived with what was a spherical section of arctic soil under our feet in the apartment. They need to move us as a group, just once, fitted within the sphere.”
“A variant of transmat tunnel technology,” Daidaunkh said. “Something the Navy has stolen from a precursor race.”
“It wouldn’t be reasonable for the Navy to expose the technology in this circumstance.”
“What is reasonable about the game they play with us?”
“Admiral Etrhnk didn’t give me a reason.”
“Etrhnk?”
“He took me aboard his ship while I was cutting straw. He wanted to know who Samson is, what my purpose is. I asked him his purpose. Neither of us gave satisfactory answers. I think he’ll continue the ‘game.’”
“You and the boy are his concern. Why does he bother with Rafael and me?”
“Because I talk to you and he spies on what I say. Because you’re a burden on me, adding to my stress. Because he hasn’t decided what to do with you when he’s finished with you. Do you not wish to see what will become of me, when Etrhnk tires of the game?”
Daidaunkh looked at the pedicab again and after a long moment of thought, raised his good arm toward Fidelity. She took his webbed hand and carefully pulled him to a sitting position amid his straw. She and Rafael got Daidaunkh onto his one good leg. He let out a sharp grunt of pain that echoed down the empty street. He stood with his good arm around Fidelity’s shoulders, looking at her strangely, while Rafael turned the pedicab so that he could sit down in it. Fidelity could feel the tension in Daidaunkh that went beyond his pain and was sure he was amazed at having his arm around his sworn enemy. What would he do? She didn’t want to hurt him again, but what would she do? Nothing happened. Daidaunkh slipped into the pedicab, still looking at her and working on some internal problem.
Samson refused to get into the pedicab with Daidaunkh. Fidelity gave him a stern look and reasoned with him, but he wouldn’t sit with the Rhyan. She placed him on the saddle, even though it was precarious for his small size. Rafael took one handlebar and she took the other, and they pulled the pedicab on its crumbling tires and squeaky bearings.
“Is this the right apartment?” Horss asked.
“We came in through the same balcony, the same broken glass door.”
“It isn’t here.”
“What?” Mai yawned. She felt groggy, a bit disconnected from reality. She wondered why she wanted to accompany Horss back to Daidaunkh’s apartment. It couldn’t be simply to keep watch over the Mnro Clinic’s ambulance, lest a mentally unstable Navy captain wreck it. She enjoyed his company, now that she had got used to him. He was a perfect gentleman, even a bit reserved. She knew he was trying very hard to be nice and she had reached the point in the evolution of her feelings about him that it gratified her.
Horss turned on the apartment lights and came back to stare at the floor.
“Most of the tundra is gone!” Horss squatted in the middle of a ring of dirt and brushed the edge of it out from the center, exposing a little more of the pink tile. He looked closely at the uncovered floor, then brushed more dirt away from the center. “Damn! I cut myself! Look at how this tile is cut in a circle and is sunk in the middle. Look at this! How the hell did this happen?”
“Let me see your hand!” There was blood dripping onto the tile. Mai grabbed at his waving hand and tried to get him to stop what he was doing. She didn’t understand yet what was making him so excited. She got a good look at the wound and wanted to treat it immediately but he pulled the hand away.
“It’s razor sharp and beveled and I’ll bet it’s a perfect circle if I uncovered the rest of the arc. Why is it sagging in the middle?” Horss shook his cut hand, sending more blood drops flying. He used his other hand to probe the upturned edge of the tile, where he had cut himself.
“Be careful!” Mai was extremely anxious because of Horss’s wound. Part of her anxiety was because she was a physician, but it was hardly as serious a wound as to cause such anxiety. She had to stop and wonder at herself. She had always accepted that age gradually lessened her emotions, allowing her greater objectivity, wisdom, and tolerance. She had thought extreme age would cause people to find meaning in more subtle and more technical ways. But here she was, feeling young and urgent in the presence of Jon Horss. And she was still missing the reason for Jon’s excitement.
A section of the floor broke off and slipped out of his hand as Horss tried to avoid the sharp edge. He looked at the exposed subflooring and a piece of joist. “Look at the curve! Absolutely smooth and perfect! This is impossible! And look at the shape of the tundra at the inner edge of the circle. It forms a section of a spherical curve.”
“I’ve heard stories of similar structures being found on Earth.” Mai stepped into the dirt circle next to Horss so she could look at his hand again. “It’s the first time I’ve seen one myself. I think it’s scary.”
“It’s more than that. Where do you think the tundra came from?”
“It came from the Arctic, of course.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“And the perfect curvature, how was that made?”
“I don’t know! There are machines that can assemble products on an atomic scale, atom by atom. I’m sure they could produce such smooth curves.”
“But there was no assembly done here. It was disassembly. And it was transportation. That tundra came here and most of it went back where it came from. And I think this circular section of floor went somewhere and came back. It was cut out of the floor and went to the Arctic, then it came back. I don’t want to say the word for this. I’ve watched too many old episodes of Deep Space.”
“Gate?”
“That’s the word.” He shook his head, then led Mai out of the circle on the floor. “I took pictures.” He pointed to his eyes. “One of these days I’ll embarrass myself by showing them to a scientist.”
Mai still held his injured hand at the wrist. “Let me clean this and put a bandage on it.” She always carried at least a minimal medical kit. She took her time. She was tired and didn’t want to do a poor job. “When we get back to the Clinic I’ll heal it.”
“I want to stay here. If they return, I need to be here.”
“Why would they return here? Why don’t you come stay with me?” What
was she saying? She needed sleep. She didn’t know what she was about to do, but his lips were so close, so convenient.
[Where, where, where? Quickly!]
[I don’t know! The Navy will find them anywhere we put them. They have transponders. Can you remove their transponders?]
[Not easily. We don’t have much time. The Bitch will discover us.]
[Think!]
“Fidelity?”
She stopped at the sound of her name. Her name. No one ever called her by that name, except Rafael. It still pleased her that he used it, but it began to feel like it was never really her name. Nor Demba. Ruby Reed? A cabaret singer. She liked it better than Fidelity, but it was no more comfortable. Why did Rafael call her name? Because he couldn’t see her, of course. Except for latent infrared and stars in the sky, it was dark as pitch in the alley behind the hotel. She could see Rafael, Daidaunkh, and Samson because her sight was augmented.
“I’m back,” she called.
“Find anything?”
“Nothing that I would trust. This place has been deserted for at least a century.”
“It will be the same everywhere,” Rafael said. “Nothing to eat. But perhaps we won’t be here long.”
They sat on plastic boxes next to Daidaunkh’s pedicab in the alley behind the hotel, surrounded by tall shapes that masked the patterns of stars. Samson groped for her in the
dark and sat down between her legs. “I agree. It would be a wasted effort to search this area for food. Clothing is another matter. We may go somewhere cold again.”
“I don’t think Daidaunkh wants to ride anywhere for awhile,” Rafael said. “And my legs are almost used up. I may not be able to walk by this time tomorrow.”
“I was told you can sing,” Daidaunkh commented, stirring in the pedicab. “Why waste these waning moments of our lives? Let me hear you sing. Jarwekh was impressed with what he heard, but Jarwekh is no musician, no proper judge of talent.”
“You wish to judge me as a singer?”
“I wish to judge Jarwekh. Can you sing a Rhyan song?”
If only she could impress him as Jarwekh may have been impressed. “I don’t know. Can you hum a few bars, as they say, of a Rhyan song?”
Daidaunkh thought for a moment, then launched into a melody strange to human ears.
“He sounds bad,” Samson said. “He can’t sing on key.”
“Oh, you know something about music?” Fidelity asked, amused.
“I have always feared the judgment of children,” Daidaunkh said, “which is one reason I remained childless. You don’t know that one? Here’s an old one, a children’s song.”
Daidaunkh sang roughly at first but with determination and care. He sang
quietly and with improving clarity. Samson listened to him with interest, turning his head to one side in a quizzical manner, as if trying to understand the alien lyrics. Daidaunkh stopped abruptly and stayed quiet for several moments. The darkness hid his face but the silence said something.
“I know it,” Fidelity said. “It’s difficult for an Earthian. Are you sure you want me to try?”
“You’ve sung it before? It would be interesting to hear.”
“What is it?” Samson asked. “What are the words?”
“It sounds strange, doesn’t it? It’s not a children’s song. It’s a sad song for grownups, about war and making orphans of their children. The song is said to be more than a thousand years old. To sing it properly you have to understand the words and why certain notes should be sung slightly wrong, according to Earthian ears. In a way, it’s almost like Earthian blues - you have to feel it.”
“You know all of this,” Daidaunkh said, “yet you couldn’t remember that you knew any Rhyan songs?”
“I must be packed with data augments. I’m so full of information that I can’t easily browse through it and discover things by category. It helps if I know exactly what I need to find, if I have a sample of a thing, like the first few notes of a song.”
She stood up to free her diaphragm. Samson stood up beside her and grasped one of the bicycle handlebars for support. Fidelity sang the first notes of the Rhyan song. Her voice echoed from the walls around them, adding to the melancholy tone of the song. Daidaunkh leaned forward in the pedicab, as if to hear better. She sang, and the ancient song lived again. “Did you like it?” Fidelity asked Samson when she finished the song.
Samson started to say something, but Daidaunkh interrupted. “I shouldn’t have doubted Jarwekh! It’s a deceptively difficult old song for anyone to do properly. I’ve never heard it sung better.”
“Thank you, Daidaunkh.”
Light came from everywhere, blinding them, except for Fidelity. She saw the new world appear around them, at all points, above and below, fantastic, stunning in its beauty, endless in its variety.
“I thought you would want to see this,” said his jailer. “And hear it.”
“More of the Transmat Prisoners Travelogue?” Pan asked.
The scene on the display wall in Admiral Etrhnk’s black and white room began in the Asian street at dusk and played through to the end in the dark alley. Even though Pan was certain Admiral Demba was once the cabaret singer Ruby Reed, he was shocked by the singing of Demba. It was perhaps due in part to the question of what was memory and what was imagination, but Demba sang not only with perfection but with that rare magic that caused hunger for more of her voice. “I’m not sure Ruby Reed could sing that well. Admiral Demba is… astonishing. Thank you for letting me hear her. If it was possible, I would beg her to sing in the Mother Earth Opera.”
“Hearing your professional appraisal, I would be predisposed to making it possible. But I’m afraid it’s out of my hands now.”
“What do you mean?”
“You saw them disappear. You did not see the gate artifact. They’re gone. I no longer have a transponder lock on any of them.”
“But they still have to be within Sol System, don’t they?”
“You’re the one who told me gates have no limit to their range.”
“The transponder signals could be blocked, couldn’t they?”
“Yes. I’ll keep a watch for their return.”
It was too late to change his opinion of Admiral Etrhnk and become more open with what little he knew of who Demba once was. Pan almost wished she had remained in this ‘game’ on Earth, where Etrhnk might ultimately change his plans for her. Now he couldn’t know what further danger she might be facing. “Do you know where they were sent? Did you want the gate to take them again?”
“I have an idea. I can’t tell you about it.”
“It will be dangerous for her?”
“Quite dangerous. I hoped they would remain in the field of play. I persisted because my only recourse for the information I wanted was to squeeze it from you by destructive interrogation of your mind.”
“You would have killed me and still learned nothing from me.”
“There was that risk. Since I had the admiral and I had some time for the game, I didn’t need to take that risk. Now the game is over. You know who Demba is. Tell me.”
“I know another name for her but I don’t think it’s one you want to hear. I believe she has yet another name which hasn’t reached my conscious. If I remember who that person was, it’s possible I would tell you.”
“It’s also possible you wouldn’t. Should I keep you alive for a name? Names don’t always explain who a person is.”
“The name I remember will have some meaning for you. The one I don’t remember feels more important to me and may mean nothing to you. That I can’t remember it yet seems to make it more important to me.”
“Tell me the name you remember.”
“Keshona.” Etrhnk turned away from him. Pan waited. “Do you believe me?”
“Belief is only for those who need release from uncertainty. I’m always uncertain, until I act. And then I’m only certain that I’ve acted. Have you perhaps remembered a person named Jamie?”
“Would you believe anything I said?”
“I’ve believed everything you said. Have you lied?”
“Admiral, according to your own uncertainty principle, you’ve believed nothing I’ve said. I know nothing of a person named Jamie.”
“I believe you. I use the word in a probabilistic manner. Are you not interested in knowing why I asked?”
“I’m interested in everything you say, Admiral.”
“A high probability, since your life may depend on it.”
“Who is Jamie?”
” She’s the daughter of Admiral Demba.”
“How would you know that?”
Admiral Etrhnk turned to face Pan again. ” She told me. Why would she have this child? Who would the father be?”
Pan shook his head. He did believe Admiral Etrhnk. He didn’t know who Jamie was. He almost wished he was her father, that Harry the piano player found a wife in Ruby Reed. He would have to wait for further news from his irregular flashbacks of searing images, and hope they were the truth.
Etrhnk did not have long to wait for Constant to make her appearance after he sent the Opera Master back to detention. She had already seen and heard Admiral Demba sing. As usual, she made no comment about the boy, as if she had no real interest in him, but he knew she did. He was important to her. All children were important to those nearest them and Constant had to have been ve
ry close to him. That was as much as he wanted to know about the boy.
Constant had to listen to Demba’s performance one more time. “Golly, she gives me chills! Where do you think they’re off to this time?”
“Oz,” Etrhnk replied.
“You think she’ll find some ruby slippers, or meet the Wizard?”
It took a few moments for Etrhnk to discover the literary reference. He tried to smile. He failed.
“Game’s over, huh?” Constant patted him on the arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll worry for both of us. I’d better go now. Kiss me goodbye.”
Section 022 1980 - We Are All Connected
“You missed the tree this time,” Milly commented, smiling as Sam approached her. It was a genuine smile and a smile of relief. She was afraid he wouldn’t come. Now she could go on breathing, go on living. “Where are your glasses? I’m surprised you even saw me.”
“You won’t believe this,” Sam replied, “but the morning after I met you I woke up and I could see pretty well without them. I still carry them around and even put them on without thinking.”
“So, the near-sighted astronomer wasn’t an act. I was sitting over by the statue one day, feeling sorry for myself, and I saw you walk right into that tree! You were reading as you walked. I almost laughed.”
“Reading about black holes.” Sam grimaced at the memory. “They’re the popular thing but I just can’t find anything to like about them. Probably missing a chance. Where are your glasses?”
“You won’t believe this, but…”
“Really? Have you been to an eye doctor?” It seemed like a miracle to Sam but he didn’t believe in miracles.
“No. How about you?” Sam was a miracle to Milly, not the change in her own eyesight.
” Short of money. I want to know why my eyesight changed but I don’t want to find out it’s just temporary or going to get worse. I’ll enjoy it while I can. Should you be out in this cold, Milly? Can I take you somewhere inside?”
“I’m sorry to try to take advantage of you, Sam, but it would be nice if you could help me shop for groceries.”
