by Far Freedom
“I’m still here, still waiting, Captain.” Jamie was resigned to it and irritated by it.
“Sit down. This may take most of what little time we have.” Jones seated herself, not on a workstation chair but on the deck, leaning against the captain’s navigation tank, not even facing Horss. She held her fatigue cap in both hands resting on her knees. Her eyes were lowered, probably focused on nothing external. He hated to see a Marine officer looking so close to being broken in spirit. “Once upon a time,” Horss began, and paused to see if that phrase would trigger Jones’s intolerance of fools. To his dismay, she didn’t react. “Once upon a time there was a scientist named Aylis Mnro who discovered how to rejuvenate people in a way affordable by anyone. She realized it would cause serious problems if she couldn’t offer the treatment immediately to all the billions who were already old enough to be facing death.”
“I am familiar with the history of the Mnro Clinics.”
“But not the secret parts. Mnro had the help of three people whose names never appeared in the official history. Two of these people developed most of the devious strategy she used to circumvent trouble from the clamoring masses. Their names were Dawa Phuti Mende and Zakiya Muenda.”
“The Doctor Mende?”
“You’ll get the chance very soon to meet him and verify what I’ve said.”
“He’s dead!”
“So was I.”
“Who was the other person?”
“Another anthropologist. You’ve already met her. Your mother.”
Jones leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Horss slid out of his command chair and sat down next to Jones. She gave him a strange expression. It fit his mood.
“The Five Worlds. We’re almost there. My mother is going to steal a dead body! My mother is named Zakiya Muenda! You don’t have much time! I’m about to jump up and run screaming!”
“Zakiya Muenda, Igor Khalanov, Phuti Mende, and Aylis Mnro have been friends for more than a quarter of a millennium. They served together on a famous ship. They made some very interesting - and unreported - discoveries. Did you ever look in the silver bag your mother gave you?”
“No, I gave it back.”
“But you know what it was?”
“No.”
“Jones! Have you no curiosity? It would have made this a little easier if you knew your mother had a real cryptikon in that little bag.”
“A cryptikon?”
“Never mind! I’ll get to the point. The third person who helped Aylis Mnro was Aylis Mnro. A copy of her. The copy looked exactly like her, was DNA-identical to her, but was partially mechanical. This copy was the person who was as ruthless and relentless as Aylis Mnro needed to be to build and operate the Mnro Clinic network for more than two centuries. The real Aylis Mnro spent the whole time asleep. She awoke to replace her copy and become a crew member on this ship.”
Jamie stared at Horss and Horss stared back, making his gray eyes convince her hazel eyes that he was sane and truthful. Come on, Jones, he thought at her, work it out, see the big implication.
“A cryptikon?” Jamie was completely adrift. She had actually held a cryptikon!
“Forget about that!” Horss yelled at her. “Think about the copy of Aylis Mnro! She built a copy of herself! The copy was animated by an actual surviving member of a precursor race! The copy had all of her memories. If she could build such a copy of herself, she could build a copy of someone else!”
It took great effort to get the cryptikon out of her mind. A copy of Mnro? Jamie’s mind was bumped out of focus again. It was too weird to think about! All she wanted to think about was Direk.
“Direk!” Horss shouted his name, even as she found another memory of him.
“Direk?” She tried to withdraw from the memory, tried to understand why Horss was speaking Direk’s name.
“The Direk who died was a copy! The real Direk may still be alive! I wanted you to know. I wanted you to not be depressed, to have hope, and - if you value your dignity - to not be subjected to another traumatic situation where you can’t control yourself.” Jones’s chest started heaving and Horss began to scoot away from her. Her hand reached out for him and caught his wrist. She almost broke it before she let go. She covered her face with her fatigue cap. “Go ahead and bawl. I know Marines cry. I’ve seen them cry like babies. Doesn’t mean they can’t kick your butt after they blow their noses.”
She almost laughed. “I want to believe you. I want to so badly! This… this new information inside of me, these intense images and scenes, they’re battering me into some vastly different concept of myself. I can’t figure out who I am anymore! But if Direk is still alive! If he’s alive…!”
“Time for a special assignment, then. You will accompany your mother and Aylis - would you believe she insists I call her Aylis? - into the Five Worlds.”
“I don’t know…”
“It’s an order, Jones.” Horss stood up. Jones stood up. She put her cap on, started to salute.
“How can I function?” She turned the salute into a quick tear-wiping.
“Just remember the Marine motto.”
“Semperfidelis? How does that apply?”
“Oh, I thought it was ‘Kill anything that moves.’”
“And how does that apply to me?”
“Just be faithful to yourself, whoever you are. Would you care to guess what Deep Space ship your mother and Aylis served aboard?”
“Don’t tell me it was the Frontier.”
“Well… OK.”
“Jon Horss!”
” You sound just like my mother. The Freedom has a complete copy of Deep Space Fleet operational and personnel records. Take a look at them and see if you think they’re authentic. They’re a major reason for my lack of sleep. They’re fascinating. There are things in them that would be classified and withheld from the public even beyond current times. But don’t get too involved in them right now. As you know, we’re about to run the final leg to the Five Worlds. I’ll make an announcement giving both military and civilian crew the chance to abandon ship. You will secure the departure process and account for the departing crew. This will occur about two hours from now. I wish we could convince everyone to remain with us. But the admiral feels it’s unethical to order anyone to stay aboard.”
“Can the ship be maintained with a small crew?”
“This ship hardly needs a crew at all. All we do is damage it! I’m mainly concerned with the safety of those who wish to leave the ship. They were placed aboard the Freedom by the Navy for a reason. It’s possible they’ll bring trouble to the Five Worlds by going ashore there.”
“The Five Worlds is a peaceful community. Why trouble?”
“There are two purposes for the mission, represented by your mother and by Etrhnk. Your mother needs the ship to search for your father. Etrhnk needs the ship to place its cargo where it can be pirated. The cargo is the people aboard, the wealth of their talents and knowledge. If they go ashore at the Five Worlds, they may be abducted by force, and the Five Worlds would come under attack.”
“By whom?”
“By pirates and slavers. Your mother, Sammy, Freddy, and I have seen their leader, or whatever she is. I was never more scared in my life! There’s too much to explain right now. Trust me.”
“My father? My mother has this whole ship just to find my father? Who - “
“My feelings get hurt when people laugh at me. Ask your mother.” Horss saluted, forcing Jones to quickly salute him. She turned and almost stumbled,
286 Far Freedom
retreating out of the star-filled bridge.
People crowded into the main port-side debarkation bay, most of them carrying their possessions. Thousands more waited in lines in the connecting ring corridors. In one corner of the bay Jamie addressed her contingent of Marine Security personnel and the four Navy volunteers. “You heard Captain Horss’s announcement. This option applies to all military as well. When the civilians leave, you may follow
them. There will be perhaps an additional hour for you to retrieve your personal gear. Notify me on shiplink when you’ve departed.”
“Deserted, you mean,” Aguila said. “You’re staying. I’m staying.”
Miguel was her best Marine and she expected his reaction. “You know I’ll continue to pound on you and run you through the ten-kilo course. Are you in love with me?”
“Is that what you call it? I know I get very excited when I receive one of your signature bruises. My collection isn’t complete yet.”
“Glad to have you with me, Miguel.” Jamie was pleased that all of them chose to stay, as she ran down the roster and queried them individually. They were a diverse lot, yet they had one thing in common: they were crazy. She hadn’t known them long but for some reason they responded to her. Perhaps it was the nature of the Mission. They knew it was potentially fatal.
“How about our camp followers?” She turned to Wingren and the other female Navy officers. She knew their choice. They were devoted to the person they believed was Commodore Keshona. They were crazier than the Marines. They could also run the ten-kilo course without any trouble.
As usual, Wingren spoke for them. “The fun is just beginning, Major. We wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
“So, is it true, Major?” Aguila asked.
“Is what true?”
“Was Admiral Demba Commodore Keshona? With Horss and Keshona running the boat, we’re loaded with quality brass.”
“No one has confirmed that. But Horss didn’t deny it.”
“You think it’s possible, don’t you?” Wingren asked.
Jamie nodded agreement for the first time, after Wingren had posed some form of the same question too many times. Direk again visited her from the past, without even being triggered by any obvious reference. She had a moment of internal panic as the bright image flashed through her mind. She was a child and a big man with palest blue eyes was kneeling in front of her. It was Direk, her first memory of him, and it was colored by the hatred of him she would later feel. He took her from her mother, the woman who would become Keshona. The memory of hatred of him when she was a child made her love for Direk when he was an old man even more profound.
“Are you okay, Major?” Aguila asked.
She shook her head. “No. I’m usually a very private person, but I should tell you something before there are inaccurate rumors. Someone has already died on this mission. Captain Direk died rescuing my mother and Sammy from an attempt by the Navy Commander to remove her from the ship. That was what precipitated our sudden departure from Headquarters. I knew Captain Direk. In another lifetime, I loved him. It’s been difficult for me to function for the last two days.”
Everyone in her small audience was thrown into a confused mental state. Jamie could see sympathy and concern battling surprise and curiosity on their faces. “What’s that look on your face, Miguel? Did you think I’ve always enjoyed being a girl Marine who likes to hurt boy Marines?”
“Captain Direk rescued your mother?” Wingren asked.
“Admiral Demba is my mother.” She saw the shock on Wingren’s face. “I have more to say.” She should have expended more emotion in Horss’s presence. She was surprised at his sensitivity, considering his former duty as flagship captain. If she could have blown it out of her system on the bridge she wouldn’t be skirting the edge of emotional chaos now. “What Captain Horss bluntly implied in his announcement to the crew is that departing crew are making the wrong choice. Their presence in the Five Worlds will bring danger to that community and to themselves. We want them to stay on the ship.”
“Demba is your mother.” Wingren was stuck on the wrong topic, shaking her head in wonder.
“What can we do?” Aguila asked. “You want us to talk to them?”
Wingren recovered. “There are image projectors in these bays.”
“Turn them on,” Jamie said, “and let me feed my shiplink data into them.”
The four Navy officers needed only a few moments with their shiplink augments to access the nearest projection system. A blue curtain of light, deep with a third dimension, bloomed next to a plain bulkhead at the end of the bay. Heads turned in that direction as the light caught their attention. Jamie logged into the ship’s public data storage and performed a simple search for the original name of her mother: Zakiya Muenda. An extensively tabbed folder of data appeared in her ocular terminal and was replicated in the wall-sized image volume. Jamie picked the tab which displayed a still picture of her mother. An unsmiling woman sat for an official portrait wearing a uniform made famous by countless entertainment episodes glorifying Earth’s early years of space exploration beyond the solar system. She was framed by data in an official style unlike that of the Union Navy. Her identifying data displayed at the top of the image: “Commander Zakiya Muenda, Linguist, Archaeologist, born 01-232400, Africa, Earth, Third Officer, D.S.F. Frontier, Human Communities Medal of Service in the Cause of Civilization, Deep Space Medal of Highest Honor…”
“Wait a minute! Wait a minute!” Wingren was excited again. She and all of the Navy officers were shocked. Even some of the Marines understood enough to be awed. “That’s Admiral Demba! Where did that picture originate? Was she also an actress in a Deep Space episode?”
Jamie shook her head. She opened another tab on the folder image her search had first produced. She flipped through pages of data showing glimpses of material Zakiya Muenda had produced as an officer and research scientist on the Deep Space Fleet vessel Frontier. The volume of work spanned decades. Jamie opened a third tab on the folder and found an index to recorded images. She opened picture after picture, rapidly perusing them. Again, years of living and working were recorded in them. She stopped and backed up to an image that looked interesting. It was a group portrait of the crew of the Frontier, all eight of them. There was her mother in the center of the group, and standing next to Aylis Mnro!
“That’s Mnro!”
“And Khalanov!”
Jamie hardly listened while the Navy officers and her Marines discussed the image. Her eyes were drawn to the tall officer standing next to her mother, whose hand rested on her mother’s shoulder. He looked very familiar, and she loved the look of him.
“Where did all of this come from?” Wingren nearly screamed. “How can it be the real records of Deep Space Fleet?”
Jamie tore her eyes away from the man in the picture. “I don’t know. Captain Horss told me it was there and he believes it’s authentic. He’s been studying it.”
“It will at least give them something to think about,” Aguila said. “Wouldn’t that be something? Mnro, Demba, Khalanov - members of Deep Space Fleet?”
People started crowding into the hangar from the connecting ring corridors. The level of conversation rose to a roar in the crowd. Someone opened a vast partition at the far side of the bay so the crowd could expand into an adjoining maintenance bay. Several more image projectors turned on and showed the same data.
“We got their attention,” Wingren said. The Rhyan officer gathered with her Earthian cohorts for a few moments, then turned back to Jamie. “Major, let me input some data we’ve collected.”
“Let me see it first, Wingren.” Jamie watched the beginning of a presentation in her shiplink that started with an old Rhyan war veteran displaying an image of a dark woman in a Navy commodore’s uniform. There were more than three dozen such images and perhaps ten different versions of the image. All of these images were collected and enhanced, resolving into a clear holographic portrait of a woman who looked exactly like Admiral Demba. None of the individual images were conclusive as to the identity of the person, but the composite image was startling in its clarity. Jamie felt a tingling of goose flesh, looking at the familiar face with the unfamiliar expression of lethal intent that her imagination seemed to apply. That woman killed millions of Rhyan, and no one yet knew how. “Damn, Wingren! Is there more?”
“This version is ten minutes in length. We have another versio
n that documents our methods and sources and lays out a time line.”
“Go ahead and show this one.” Jamie watched the program again on the big holographic display, dividing her attention to see the reactions of the people who were prepared to leave the ship. While she did this, Wingren manipulated the display volume to reinstall the previous images below the documentary. “Ruby Reed,” Jamie said to Wingren. “Find her and put her up there.”
She was not surprised the pale European singer closely resembled her African mother. The dates of birth and death fit precisely in the space between Zakiya Muenda and Commodore Keshona. When the documentary reached its dramatic conclusion of imaging, Wingren placed that portrait into the sequence.
“What a person!” Aguila declared, his voice barely heard above the roar of conversation around them. “This will be a great mission!”
A flow of people started toward Jamie and her contingent. Questions bombarded them. Jamie was reduced to simply shouting at them to stay on the ship. There was so much confusion she couldn’t tell what effect they had, but by the time the dock warning sounded, Jamie could see empty spaces across the deck of the debarkation bay. Jamie ordered her troops to take their assigned places to control the egress. The main portal cleared to show a cold white tunnel. There was movement in the crowd toward the tunnel, but many more started to flow back from the portal. The crowd in the bay grew much thinner. The mechanical door at the other end of the tunnel rolled aside. The Marines moved a barrier aside at the portal. A few people made their way to the portal and walked down the tunnel. Many more people stood still, silently trying to make a decision, while others were discussing matters with those near them. As the bay emptied, those who remained formed a group that aimed itself at Jamie. As they approached, some of her Marines returned to her side, as if to protect her. She recognized Professor Sung, the cultural historian, among the crowd of the undecided. He became their spokesman.
