Keshona Far Freedom Part 1

by Warren Merkey

phrases they had spoken to each other he now knew were used when she was Keshona, when he came to offer her the means to destroy the Rhyan Empire. He and his brother had built a machine that made her small task force supremely deadly.

  "You have no theory?" Etrhnk prompted.

  "I would not offer you one in my present state of mind," Pan hopelessly replied.

  "I was looking forward to hearing what these memories were," Etrhnk said, his implied disappointment becoming a threat.

  "They often evaporate before I can retain the details," Pan tried to explain, "leaving me with only forceful but blurred impressions."

  Etrhnk waved Pan ahead of him to enter an intraship conveyance. Pan took his time, steadying himself and sitting down in the small sleek car. He had killed his own mother! She had helped him do it: Demba, Ruby Reed. Keshona. She was Keshona! He seemed to have denied the meaning of that fact, excused her - excused himself - from the shame and guilt of what he now saw as a crime.

  Etrhnk sat down facing Pan and the conveyance moved off through the ship. The vehicle canopy opaqued as they entered a tube, then cleared when the vehicle crossed above a scenic commons. The Eclipse was a huge ship, a city that sailed among the stars.

  Admiral Etrhnk was silent for the moment, even though the quiet vehicle afforded him time and privacy for interrogation. Etrhnk watched him with dark and predatory eyes. There was no malice in those eyes, just the promise of relentless pursuit of his prey.

  Pan had made up his mind that he could not lie about the facts or omit anything about the two Navy officers. But he would not offer his own interpretation of any facts. And if Etrhnk tried to get at this last eruption of his mind, then he had to resist. It felt like a true memory and one that should never be revealed. It was one reason why Commodore Keshona was legendary, because only he - and his brother - knew how Keshona was able to decapitate the Rhyan Empire. The technology must never fall into the hands of a Navy commanded by such people as Etrhnk.

  Pan tried to appear calm and interested in the interior view of the Navy flagship. He could think of nothing to ask and nothing on which to comment, and so the in-ship journey proceeded silently.

  The tube car came to a stop at a rather more impressive station. Many Marines, heavily armed yet resplendently dressed, populated the large intersection of passageways. The walls were smooth and curved, their surfaces sectioned in several shades of gray, perhaps designating areas of specialized functions. This was a warship, and Pan knew the construction provided for every extreme situation that might occur, but this part of the ship was very refined in concealing its military functions.

  Etrhnk led him into a short passageway directly across from the transport terminal and between two of the Marines. The Marines came to attention with a slow and simultaneous precision, every movement choreographed fluidly and ending in precisely rendered salutes. Etrhnk seemed to pay them no attention and did not return the salutes. The end of the passageway dematerialized and Pan followed into a room that was white on ceiling and three walls, black on the floor and fourth wall, and contained a black wood table and chairs. The one black wall was the black of space, an image screen which showed crescent Earth and moon floating in the void.

  Pan sat at the table when Etrhnk gestured toward it. The Navy Commander stood for a moment, perhaps tending to some business that came into his shiplink augment. Etrhnk pulled another chair from the dark table and sat down opposite Pan. Pan removed his recording of the African Space Elevator fight and pushed it across the table to Etrhnk.

  "A recording you will find interesting," Pan said. Pan's heart was racing with his emotions.

  "It was detected and downloaded," Etrhnk responded. "Please tell me what it contains. I'll view it later."

  "Two Navy officers. The top floor of the African Space Elevator. They are fighting. Admiral Demba kills Captain Horss."

  If Pan expected Etrhnk to have some reaction to his words, he would have been disappointed. He wasn't disappointed. Etrhnk, an elite Essiin, hid his inner self better than any Essiin Pan had ever known. That Demba, an elderly female admiral confined to sedate duties of data management, could defeat a Navy champion in personal combat should provoke a response great enough to at least cause comment. Etrhnk merely waited for Pan to continue.

  "There is also a boy," Pan added, expecting, for some reason, a noticeable response from the Navy Commander.

  "A boy?" Etrhnk did not even raise an eyebrow, but the query was itself a significant response. "As in male child?"

  "His name is Samson. He's about nine years old. Admiral Demba found him near the space elevator. She and Horss followed him into the pedestal building, where he was seriously injured."

  Pan stopped, hoping Etrhnk would ask questions, so that he would not have to volunteer more information than what was asked of him.

  "Continue," Etrhnk ordered, as though knowing Pan's strategy.

  Pan related all the facts he knew, eventually including what Horss told him of the Request for Voluntary Reassignment. Pan wanted to ask his own questions but dared not. What would it gain him to know of Etrhnk's reactions and his real attitude toward Demba? What would his questions reveal to Etrhnk if he asked them? There were no arguments to change the Navy Commander's judgments. And such information could come at the cost of his own life. If he learned that his life was already a penalty to pay, then Pan would ask some questions. Etrhnk took a long time to think about what Pan had told him, and that was Pan's only clue to the importance Etrhnk gave any of it.

  "Ruby Reed," Etrhnk said at last, leaning back in his chair and tapping the table, once only, with the image-chip Pan had given him. "Tell me what you remember of her." It was slightly encouraging that Etrhnk found the "Admiral Demba and Ruby Reed" relationship worth his time.

  "I've remembered many moments," Pan said, "but the details tend to fade rapidly. She was a nice person but she was often sad. She abused alcohol. She had a great talent but no ambition to become rich and famous."

  "You were emotionally involved with her," Etrhnk stated, and waited in expectation. It was a promising thought for Etrhnk to have, yet Pan disliked sharing his newly-found emotional treasures.

  "I'm sure I was," Pan replied, and the stimulus of Etrhnk's query rewarded him with a brief series of scenes with the pale Ruby Reed that paralyzed him with profound feelings. Pan recovered, and Etrhnk seemed infinitely patient with Pan's momentary departure. "The feelings," Pan resumed speaking, "are what survive the flashbacks best. I felt very strongly about her. I wanted to protect her. I wanted her to be happy. I sense that I must have failed."

  "Tell me about Admiral Demba."

  Pan recounted his two meetings with the admiral, omitting the phrases they had unwillingly spoken in the manner of spies identifying each other. Nor did he mention the mental episode she experienced, proving to Pan that she was also having flashbacks like his.

  "How does Demba relate to the boy?" Etrhnk asked.

  It was a topic Pan did not want to approach. He was sure Demba had an interest in Samson beyond the pure mystery of him. It was a relationship too vulnerable to whatever Etrhnk might do. It was almost as if Samson represented the possible happiness he had always wanted to give to Ruby Reed. Demba seemed to need an emotional lift. She had been nearly as emotionless as Etrhnk when he first met her, but now he saw - or imagined - much more in her.

  "I would not presume to know, Admiral," Pan dared limit his response.

  "They are together now," Etrhnk stated. "At the home of Rafael de LaGuardia. Why?"

  "I sent them there for Rafael's benefit."

  "What benefit?"

  "To keep Rafael alive." Pan waited for the next question, but Etrhnk also waited. "Rafael has lost interest in living," Pan added. "I thought the admiral and the boy would disturb him enough to change his outlook."

  "And did it?"

  "It certainly made him draw and paint." Pan could see the pencil sketches and the oil portrait of the admiral in his mind and barely suppressed a shudde
r of awe. He had always regarded Rafael as a truly great artist, but this last portrait made him feel foolish in his amateur judgment of Rafael's talent. When the rest of humanity saw this work, Rafael would seize his rightful place among the immortals of art.

  "He did well?" Etrhnk probably gained that assumption by every signal of Pan's body from all the equipment that must be monitoring him.

  Pan nodded. "Demba proved to be an inspiration to him. His portrait of her is beyond comparison. The best he has ever done."

  "The personal opinion of a close friend," Etrhnk stated quietly. Pan almost missed the challenge.

  "I was shocked," Pan said succinctly, "at what I saw going onto the canvas. I stayed most of the day, watching Rafael perform magic." Pan took a breath. "He also made sketches of Demba and Samson that were extremely evocative. Yes, mine is a prejudiced opinion. I'm sorry. I should restrain my emotional statements in your presence."

  "You also are an artist. It is your nature." Etrhnk paused to respond silently to a shiplink message. "Dinner is served. Let us eat."

  Pan was hungry, as he had forgotten to eat lunch. They went to an adjoining room where the dinner was set for them on an antique table under a crystal chandelier. Etrhnk asked him to select a piece of music as background. He almost enjoyed the food, and Etrhnk did not mix interrogation with the meal. He suspected Etrhnk used the time to study everything