by Far Freedom
Samuel.
We jumped into the globular cluster in which was embedded the main habitat of the barbarians - Oz. We used a route the barbarians didn’t usually take. We tiptoed along a path of intruding main-sequence field stars. We mapped the neutron stars and the pulsars, then eased into the dense population of white dwarf stars. We made evaporating footprints in the slow-light gravity wells of the clustered dwarf stars.
Hundreds of barbarian jumpships blinked in and out of existence in the neighborhood. This gave Khalanov a chance to fine-tune his jumpship detector. We avoided them. The closer we jumped to Oz, however, the higher the probability the barbarians would take notice of us. As the propagation delay dropped to a fraction of a second our ship identification transponder began answering numerous automated hails.
“I see two choices,” Khalanov ventured.
“We aren’t following the Black Fleet into port,” Zakiya said.
“I see one choice,” Khalanov said.
“Jump inside the ball,” Alex offered.
“How thick is the water shell?” Khalanov asked.
“You don’t have an instrument that can tell you?”
“I need to thump it. I’m sure we aren’t supposed to anchor against the ball.”
“We could come back at a later time,” I said. “We didn’t think it would be this busy with Black Fleet traffic. Maybe there’ll be a quiet period.”
“Jump just inside, into the water,” Alex said. “Then thump the water.”
“They might see the displaced water explode outside the ball.”
“Back off to where they won’t see it.”
“We’ve made improvements to the barbarian navigation equipment, but that might still be at the fringe of its capability.”
“Two choices again.”
“Pick a jump point somewhat within the range of our precision capability and in as discreet a location as possible,” Zakiya said.
“Coming about,” Khalanov said. “Jumping.”
“A visitor,” Alex said.
“Intentional?”
“Close. Getting closer.”
“Intentional.”
“They want to talk,” I said, listening to a radio hail to us.
“Cannot do that,” Alex warned.
“Run and hide?” Khalanov asked.
There was no good choice. Running would mobilize the barbarians against us and make any penetration of Oz that much harder. Destroying the inquisitive jumpship would also create problems. Khalanov hadn’t had the time or the space to cram any stealth equipment into our little pirate ship, so sneaking to or from the barbarian world basically depended on them believing our ship was one of theirs. In less time than it took me to run through our tactical credits and debits, 490 Far Freedom
Zakiya had a plan. I didn’t like it.
“Please state your business.” Jessie spoke with aloofness and impatience.
“Identify!” the barbarian ordered.
“You go first,” Jessie said tiredly.
Khalanov and I listened from another compartment as Jessie, sitting alone in the command center, aggravated a Black Fleet officer. I was amazed at how calm Jessie sounded.
“Visual!” the barbarian shouted. “Full name and rank!”
“I’m sorry. You’re too loud. What did you say?”
“Identify!”
“Why?”
The barbarian paused. I couldn’t see the comm display but Jessie told me later the guy smiled, as though he liked her resistance to his demands. “You have a defective transponder! Who’s in command of your ship?”
“Commodore Keshona.”
“Keshona who? No commodores in the Fleet.”
“Oh, here’s the button for visual comm.”
The barbarian was silent for several seconds then asked in amazement, “What are you?”
“You’ve never seen a Golden One?”
“Never have! Didn’t know they were real. But that means you… Is this a trick? Like you would tell me! Okay, I got to see you in person. Open your transmat node! I’m coming over!”
No, no, no! I said to myself, but here he came out of the transmat node, armed to the teeth and wanting any excuse to do murder. He marched straight into the command room and Jessie swiveled her chair to face him. He stopped dead in his tracks. I came in behind him. He probably knew I was there but didn’t seem to care. As far as he knew, his goose was cooked if Jessie was real.
For a moment I saw Jessie through the eyes of the barbarian. She was spectacular. The first time she moved her face feathers it startled the guy. It also helped his concentration that she wore very brief attire, so that she exposed too much of her shimmering body. That bothered me.
“Okay, you’ve had your look,” I said. “Move away from her.”
The barbarian turned slowly toward me, perhaps reluctantly. I could smell him. Dressed in a crisp black uniform, every detail in perfect order, he still needed a bath. A huge scar ran from forehead to chin, which explained a slight speech impediment. It also made his evil smirk quite weird.
“Who are you?” Scar asked. “You’re not Fleet.”
” Shut up and move back.” No, I was not holding a bazooka on this guy. Yes, I was scared. He was a lot bigger than me. But I was not ever going to let him hurt Jessie. I was holding my forty-five down low. I was running my d-field, as was Jessie. I had a job to do while Alex and Zakiya did their part. They transmatted to the other jumpship after the barbarian came to ours. Jessie and I were to keep him occupied until they returned. I prayed he would want to talk for awhile.
Scar looked at my gun and continued to smile crookedly. I thought the smile impediment to his lips probably masked the apprehension he might be feeling. On the other hand, this was an old guy by barbarian standards and due to die soon. Perhaps he was considering how best to make his exit from life.
He moved fast for an elderly barbarian. He whipped out his antique firearm and shot me four times. The Navy makes good d-fields. Following proper combat procedure, I was turned sideways to the line of fire. I was able to absorb the kinetic energy comfortably, rocking back on one leg with each impact. Raising my favorite antique firearm, I put two rounds of my special ammunition into his belly, almost folding him over. It overloaded his d-field, which emitted an audible warning. The third round passed through the field, dented his passive armor, and knocked him down behind one of the chairs. D-fields, I should explain, were the main reason slug weapons were still in use. D-fields could stop a beam weapon all day, either reflecting or absorbing energy. Bullets, however, drained energy as the d-field deflected them or melted them. You still had to shoot straight for maximum effect.
The control room was too confined for gunfire. My ears rang. Jessie had remembered to wear earplugs. Khalanov appeared out of nowhere and darted the barbarian just under his right ear. We let him lie there until A and Z returned.
Neither Alex nor Zakiya appeared harmed. They didn’t seem pleased with the success of their part of the plan. Zakiya was upset that I had to shoot the barbarian. Only when she determined I hadn’t killed him did she give me the credit I earned. I learned Alex nearly killed one of the other two barbarians. I thought he had reverted to his spying and assassinating days until he explained what happened. “I was faster than I used to be. My timing was bad. I had to get my man on the deck. I was also stronger than I used to be. I hurt him. He will wonder about the pain when he wakes up.”
“Good thing my man was wearing his cocktail-hour d-field and not his business model,” I muttered, trying to stop shaking.
Khalanov administered another injection to the barbarian and he and Alex strapped him into one of the command chairs. We waited for the big guy to regain his mental faculties. Presently his dark eyes came to focus and he surveyed the crowd in the control room. I didn’t see the expected hatred or belligerence in his expression.
“How do you feel?” Zakiya asked our guest.
Scar tilted his head to one side, as normal pe
ople often do when thinking interesting thoughts. “I feel rather strange. Where is the Golden One?”
“Changing clothes. Why did you fire on one of us?”
“I was stupid.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-seven.”
“Do you command your ship?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have children?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love them?”
“Yes.”
“Do they know you love them?”
Scar didn’t respond for a few moments, until he finally shook his head as a reply in the negative.
“Do you love the Black Fleet?”
“Yes.”
“How many people have you killed?”
“I don’t know.”
“More than a dozen?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like to kill?”
“Yes.”
“What happens when you die?”
“They take your guns.”
“Do you have a soul?”
“I hope not.”
“Would you like to live a long time?”
“It’s hard enough to live a short time.”
“Why did you intercept our ship?”
“Defective transponder.”
“Is that uncommon?”
“Don’t know.”
“Was it necessary to intercept us? Was it standard operating procedure?”
“No.”
“Did you simply want to harass us?”
“No.”
“Why did you intercept us?”
“Curiosity. Time to waste. Stories to tell. Long wait for the docks to pull us in. Many ships returning this time.”
“What do you do when they pull you in?”
“Unload. Decontaminate. Debrief.”
“Then what?”
“Get drunk. Sleep. Visit the kids. Train for the games. Fight. Survive. Go out again.”
“Fight in the games?”
“Yes.”
“Is this required?”
“Yes.”
“Do you kill your opponent?”
“Not always.”
“Why not always?”
” Sometimes it’s wrong to finish off a man who fights well. Hard to explain. Too exhausted to know what to do. Someone will stop you. Or not.”
“Thumbs up, thumbs down.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any questions?”
Scar seemed surprised at the invitation and gave it some thought. “Are you the one?”
“The one what?”
“The one who sings and kills.” Scar said it as though the words were capitalized.
“I suppose that is a fair description.”
“It will be an honor to die at your hands.”
“Honor has nothing to do with me, and I will not kill you.”
“You are not the Warrior Angel of the One True God?”
“I heard a Broken One mention the One True God, but I don’t know of it.” “The Sups say She speaks to them and sometimes helps them. Are you the singer of the yellow dress?”
“Yes.” “You killed the two Tough Guys.”
“Yes.”
“The old artist is dead. The one who painted your portrait.”
This news devastated Zakiya. She almost stopped the interview. “Rafael? How did he die?”
“It hurts you. I’m sorry.”
“How did he die?”
“Be happy for him. He lived a long time. He died well. He was no coward.” “How?”
“No one wanted to kill him when they found him. They didn’t know he was that old and weak. He got in the way trying to save his Rhyan friend.” “Daidaunkh.”
“He died well also. Took some Fleet with him.”
Zakiya stopped talking with the barbarian. She departed the control room. Alex took her place.
“You’ll kill me,” the barbarian said. “I’m less than excrement to you. But I could do worse.”
” She won’t let me,” Alex responded.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing.”
“Why is the Golden One with you?”
” She isn’t a Golden One, but she is related to them.”
” She’s not a servant of She Who Must Not Be Named?”
“The Lady in the Mirror?”
“If she hears you - “
” - she’ll kill me. I know the legend. How do you know it’s true?”
“I’ve seen the ships they find. Gutted by the mirror. They’re put on display as warnings. You’re not one of us. How do you know about…”
“The Lady in the Mirror? I’ve spent centuries drinking with your boys in black. Many have dared to mention the Lady in the Mirror.”
“Centuries, you say? Perhaps two others?”
“There were three of us.”
“One with the sword? Not this guy. He’s too small.” He hooked his thumb at me. I wasn’t that much smaller than Koji. I guess legends grow a few inches taller.
“The Executioner,” Alex said.
“Many times we killed you. The Executioner killed us. Are you the Questioner? Where are the other two?”
“Does anyone live a long time in the Big Ball?”
“How long?” Scar asked.
“Two centuries.”
“No!”
“Anyone who came to you from the Titanic would be dead by now.”
“Yes. Many generations back.”
“You have records?”
“The Sups have records. Maybe.”
“Do you know of a person named Etrhnk?”
“Sure.”
“Is he here? Is he alive?”
“You know him?”
“He’s my son. Is he here?”
“Your son?”
“Is he here?”
“Your son! That’s why there’s so many coming home!”
“Why?”
“Maybe get a chance to fight him. Or watch him die.”
“Time’s up,” Khalanov said.
“May I see the Golden One again, before you kill me?”
“No. Go back to your ship.”
“Better kill me. I know too much about you.”
” You won’t remember.”
We unstrapped Scar from the chair and took him to the transmat node. When he was transmatted back to his ship we jumped into the water shell of the barbarian world.
I was angry that Zakiya presumed I could handle my role in this encounter with a barbarian. I didn’t know I could do it - how could she? She had placed Jessie in real danger. My hands shook as I reloaded the clip of my pistol.
Section 011 Abattoir
Dear Sunny,
You should know that sentient life is rare. The Milky Way must be an anomaly. Think of how far I had to travel to meet your mother. Although your mother says we encountered many alien races in distant galaxies, the Protector had to parse millions of galaxies to find very little sentient life. So it’s always exciting to meet a person who isn’t human. Rhyans and Essiin don’t count, of course, because they’re human. They just got separated from Earth at some point and diverged slightly in their morphology. Their languages and cultures could easily have found places on the earth I once knew. Outside the Union there are thousands - perhaps millions - of human settlements, all of them subject to predation by the barbarians, yet they persist.
I met a very nice person today who was not human. His body was on backwards.
“I didn’t know you could talk,” I said.
“I thought I could, if I tried,” he said. It sounded like a friendly, even humorous reply.
“Why do you move your lips, when your voice comes from elsewhere?”
“It is a poor attempt to appear less alien.” He replied without moving his lips. “But please know that when my lips smile, it is a smile.”
“Where are you from?”
“Is it correct to put the preposition at the end?” He smile
d when he said that. How far have I come from grade school to be confronted with a grammar rule for a language that could barely tolerate most of its own rules?
“From where do you come?” I returned the smile.
“Please pardon my misspent erudition. I come from the waste treatment plant.”
“I mean, where were you born?”
“Too far away to be able to say.”
“I haven’t seen anyone like you before.”
“There are a few of us here.”
I was still looking for the source of his voice. It seemed to be his ears. I guess they were ears. “You’re a handsome species.” I admired his expressive face that seemed old and wise and impish all at once. “This galaxy is remarkably full of sentient life.”
“We’re from the same galaxy?”
“The barbarians have no routes external to it.”
“How do you know this?” His translucent eyelids half covered his small dark eyes.
“Which?”
“All.”
“It’s a long story.”
“I noticed you because you seem very different.”
“Not many Koreans here.”
“Is that like Chinese? They’re quite numerous. No, I mean you don’t act like we slaves condemned to the lower regions of the Big Ball. You’re more like a visitor.”
“You’re perceptive. I’m surprised you have an interest in things beyond
surviving in this place. Are you typical for your species?”
“I wouldn’t know. We’re called Fesn, which means ‘human’ in one of our languages. It would please me to know that humans are not all like the Black Fleet.”
“It would also please me,” I said. “I’m being sarcastic. Pogo said it best: ‘We have met the enemy and he is us.’ I hope we can someday overcome the Black Fleet.”
“My people, too, have their aggressive factions. We’re numerous and widespread in our part of the galaxy. When the Black Fleet spreads farther in that direction there will be conflict.”
“What’s your name? Mine is Samuel Lee.”
“I’m called White Bridge. A translation. The sound of my name is too similar to an English swear word.”
“I wish I could spend more time talking with you, White Bridge. To meet you is almost like a fantasy for me, quite shocking in a pleasant way. But friends are waiting for me.”
