Keshona Far Freedom Part 1

by Warren Merkey

presence of another person. She continued to Samson, not caring about the invisible person she could hear approaching. She started to take Samson's hand but something seized her wrist. She quelled her combat reflex, unwilling to do violence so near to Samson. She waited for probable pain and punishment.

  The huge Rhyan became visible. This reacquainted her with the fact that i-field and d-field generators had become widely available to the civilian population, even though it created many problems for law enforcement. The first thing she saw was the Rhyan's frown as his black and gray eyes moved over her face in what seemed like difficult recognition. The second thing she saw were the tattoos on his bare forearms and she was surprised she knew what they meant. She could name his desert clan. She could name his battalion of the Rhyan Royal Guard. He was wearing a colorful tropical-print shirt and she couldn't stop a chuckle from escaping.

  "You may as well relax, Rhyan," the admiral said, speaking Standard. "I won't fight you."

  "Thank you," the man rumbled. "I was afraid you would hurt me."

  Fidelity appreciated the humor of a man twice her size. She understood why he was here: to take Samson away, in case she offered resistance. She would not do that. It saddened her to lose the boy but it also relieved her. She was only a danger to Samson. The Rhyan released her wrist, watching her intensely. He picked Samson up, who tried to resist.

  "No, don't fight him, Samson," she said, placing a hand on his cheek. "I'm sorry, but it has to be this way."

  Samson began to weep and Fidelity felt sick about it. How lifeless her existence had been before Samson! How little emotion provided flavor and meaning to her life. Emotion new to her punished her as she watched the Rhyan take Samson away. She struggled to regain control of herself. When she was calm again she thought about the look of recognition she had seen in the Rhyan's face. How would he recognize her? Was he an agent of Etrhnk, who was already searching for her on Earth?

  The Opera Master approached. She turned to him, but didn't look up to see his eyes. "How is Captain Horss?" she asked, trying to reset her priorities, trying to become an admiral again. "Did he survive? Is he well?"

  "He's alive," the tall dark-skinned man answered. "The director of the Mnro Clinic thinks he suffered slight brain damage. I see no outward signs of serious mental degradation, being unable to compare to what is normal for him. How is the boy?"

  "He had a bad night but seems better now," she replied, still averting her gaze from his face. "Why did you send us here?"

  "I wanted Rafael to meet you." He paused for several moments, perhaps waiting for her to speak. She did not speak. "I wasn't correct in sending you and the boy here," he said apologetically. "Rafael will scold me for not sending you to the Clinic. I wasn't in my right mind."

  "Are you in your right mind now?" She could see he wasn't, as she now looked up at his troubled expression.

  "No." He seemed to be waiting for her to ask another question, as though he couldn't formulate one of his own. He also stared at her even harder than had the big Rhyan. She could detect a faint tremor in his arms, which he folded across his chest to control.

  /

  "The boy," Pan spoke, and stopped. He felt lost. This body he stood in wasn't his, but who was he then? The boy deserved better than Pan felt able to give. What was he about to say?

  "I hope the Rhyan is taking him to the Mnro Clinic," the admiral said impatiently.

  "Yes. Eventually. He can stay with Rafael a little longer. It will give the Mnro Clinic physician an excuse to visit Rafael." Pan wondered how he had managed that situation. He didn't devise such a plan, it just happened.

  /

  Perhaps she would see Samson again! Fidelity thought. "Have you found his parents?" she asked.

  "The Mnro Clinic can find no match for his lineage. Doctor Sugai is upset about it."

  No surprise there, she thought, feeling justified in how special she thought Samson was.

  Pan the Opera Master provided yet another coincident mystery to confound her. She had noted his reaction to her the first time she was in his presence and assumed it was because of her uniform and her rank. Now his reaction was stronger. She was feeling more disrupted herself. If the Opera Master would keep talking, she might find something in his words to point her in a new direction, any direction. The longer she stayed in his presence, though, the worse her reaction promised to be. Yet, she couldn't be angry with him, nor could she break away from him. Something needed to be done! The situation had instantly become intolerable! What was happening? What more could go wrong with her life?

  /

  "Why were you fighting the captain?" he asked, finally identifying something he might say, some information he might want to know. Pan had spoken to billions of people during telecasts of the Mother Earth Opera. He had performed as a musician before vast audiences. He had used his physical powers to quell fights and stop riots. But at this moment in time, in front of this African woman, he could barely utter a simple phrase, or keep his extremities from trembling.

  "What I would tell you wouldn't benefit you," she replied. "It would only place you in danger." She waited for another question from him but found another to ask of him. "Why did you interfere?"

  "The boy. I wanted to confront you for what happened to him."

  "And you need to confront me again?"

  "Do you recognize me?"

  "What do you mean? I know who you are."

  "I'm sorry. I'm not very coherent today. Would you know who Ruby Reed was?"

  /

  Fidelity was startled to realize how vast the capacity of her data augment was. She whispered the name into the augment, forgetting she was no longer linked to the nearly infinite capacity of the Navy network. She was able, after only a moment's delay, to find the vital statistics of a person of that name who was a singer. Why would her personal database possess such obscure data? Out of thousands who must share the same name, why did one sit at the top of the list, defying any obvious sorting order?

  "There was at least one Ruby Reed who was a singer," she said, letting her voice express consternation, "and probably thousands more."

  "How did you know that?" Surprised, Pan took a step closer to the admiral.

  "I have a facility for data." Perhaps that satisfied Pan, but not herself! She scanned the biography in her ocular terminal, picking out the key facts. "This Ruby Reed died ninety-eight years ago. She lived primarily in New Orleans, L4. She was not well known. Is that the one you knew?"

  /

  "Yes! I don't think she died!" Pan's eyes now devoured the admiral's face. His mind strained to retrieve those elusive flashes of the past to match the admiral with Ruby Reed.

  "There's an official death certificate," Fidelity said. "She refused rejuvenation."

  "I think you are Ruby Reed. You have her voice!"

  /

  "That is a fantastic thought you have!" She wondered at the picture of the woman she saw inside her eyes. "Ruby Reed was light-skinned, not dark like me," she stated.

  "Yes, and you still look like her."

  "I do?" She tried to picture herself for comparison. There had to be a picture of herself in her data augment but mental turmoil - or fear - kept her from finding one.

  "Do you remember Harry?" he asked.

  "Who is Harry?" For a moment she thought that reply would make him shed tears.

  "I was Harry! You were Ruby Reed! You sang. I played piano for you. The more I remember Harry, the less I believe in who I thought I was, in who I think I am. Harry was a real person. The pieces I've seen of him are more real than I am. I'm not who I am, if I was Harry!"

  Fidelity tried to imagine it. She tried not to compare her own mental problems with his. How could she handle another impossible coincidence? Pan believed he was Harry, her - no, Ruby Reed's accompanist. He was a fine musician, so that was compatible with his supposed former talent. She couldn't imagine herself singing in front of an audience, so that was ridiculous! She did remember Rafael's praise when she
sang a lullaby to Samson, but... There was already too much to think about! She didn't want to argue with Pan against this bizarre contention of his. She could accept that he believed it. She would let go of her annoyance. She would let go of Jon Horss. She would try to let go of Samson. She recognized that the notion of her being a singer intrigued her. She would not let it rise to importance in her thinking! She couldn't let it push her past her limits to remain in control of herself.

  Pan took another step closer to her. They stood less than an arm's length apart. Fidelity didn't feel physically threatened by this large man, but she was very far from mentally comfortable.

  "What do you want?" she asked, feeling anger and worry.

  "A cell sample from you for the Mnro Clinic to identify."

  She was relieved in some way but still irritated. Then her heart started racing and she urged her augments to control it. What had happened in the interval of a few seconds to cause this? He might touch her, and her anticipation seemed unreasonably anxious.

  "What would that accomplish?" She backed away from him half a step. The intensity of the situation was now almost overpowering. She didn't understand why she was reacting so strongly, nor did she understand what her reaction was. Did he attack her on a biochemical level? She was protected by Navy anti-biohazard augments, yet she was very near the point of panic.

  "Probably nothing," he admitted. Pan allowed the gap between them to widen.

  Definitely nothing! she thought. Why should she fear his