The Father Unbound

by Frank Kennedy

“Yes. Except that star didn’t burn out. It was torn apart by the shock wave. There is nothing left in the Centauri system but gaseous debris. We escaped through the Nexus less than an hour ahead of the wave.”

  “And the wave now?”

  “The resonance has slowed. Once it reaches Collectorate space – many years away – the impact will not be catastrophic. But if one missile was launched against a colony … Ephraim, they say the program has been suspended. Yet the device on your CV still exists in Sub-Level Two of this station. If open rebellion breaks out, all they have to do is reveal the truth about Centauri and show the ethnics their new toy. Or maybe they won’t bother. Maybe they’ll destroy a colony just to make an example of them. I don’t care. This generation, next generation, five centuries from now. This weapon has to be destroyed, along with all the research data. The only sure way? Take out the entire station. It’s the only reason I still work here. And you, my less-than-beloved husband, have arrived at the perfect time. You are going to help me.”

  On that note, Sir Ephraim Hollander found himself speechless.

  TWENTY NINE

  THE PATH

  Ularu Falls, Indonesia Prime

  SY 5317

  THE WAI-CHIANG RIVER RACED toward its death. Its rapids spilled over boulders and carried fleets of giant branches dropped upriver by the jungle’s enormous banyan trees. Its chaotic din served only as a prelude to the greatest roar in nature: The two-kilometer drop into the abyss known as the Ularu Falls. Tourists came in slow but steady numbers to witness the Collectorate’s most spectacular terrestrial event, but they confined themselves to the viewing platforms and heavily-guarded resorts to the south of the falls. They never ventured near undeveloped Wai-Chiang, which bordered the most feared and deadly part of the Ularu Jungle. Yet two people pitched a tent along the shore of this infamous river, leaving only thirty meters of distance between themselves and whatever might wander out of the northern jungle.

  Ilya Hollander knew the risks better than anyone, which is why he purchased a gene-stamped holo-seal to encase the tent, planted a motion-detection array along the jungle’s edge, and carried a blast rifle at his side should all else fail. When he completed his setup work, Ilya removed his slickers outside the tent and scanned the terrain. The rifle shook in his hands. He heard the past echoes of the weapon’s report and recalled the life disappear from the eyes of the one hundred and ten people he killed under the banyan canopy seven years ago. He hated this place; yet a part of him wanted to race into the jungle and find easy targets. He shuddered.

  He rushed inside the tent and found instant comfort. Cho Suu-Kwan had wasted no time in preparing a perfect mood. The Asiatic woman who introduced him to Testament to Truth, taught him the art of trading commodities on the black market, and gave him entrée into the hidden societies of New Bangkok, lay naked atop her sleeping bag, which was folded open. She ran what some men called feline hands through raven hair, some of which she grasped between her lips. She spread her legs wide, emphasizing a dab of pink gel smudged just above her vagina.

  Ilya smelled the spicy plum aphrodisiac and did not hesitate to tear off his clothes. He fell upon Cho and licked away the gel. It coated his lips as he buried her in kisses. He slipped into the sensual, primordial place where Cho always took him. He did not notice when his long golden hair got in his way. His full beard, trimmed close, stroked her skin and enhanced the tactile excitement. He handled her with gentle fingers, a delicate caress, even though she could handle his physical prowess. Although he was much taller, Ilya no longer adorned himself with the muscular perversions of a peacekeeper. He had worked hard to tone his body, to create a lean yet intimidating presence. One day, Cho said, “Now you are man, not monster.” Soon after, she gave herself to him for the first time.

  Although Ilya could claim almost two hundred sexual conquests before he came of age and looked through the blue glasses, he never imagined this depth of fulfillment. He never felt his heart beat with such tenderness even as he thrust his hardest. He could not imagine letting go, and he would have been content were this his final hour.

  When Ilya and Cho reached their fill, they clung to each other. Ilya placed his head on her chest. The tent did little to lessen the combined roar of the river and the falls. They lay quietly for several minutes listening to a power far greater than themselves.

  “That first day,” Ilya said, thinking of his underground introduction to Cho, who had asked why he came to New Bangkok in search of her. “If I’d given you the wrong answer, were your men really going to execute me?”

  Cho forced a laugh. “Silly man. But yes. I ordered each. Two bullets to the head. Big man, I warned them. Peacekeeper. Very hard to kill. Make sure his blood not spilled on me.” Cho kissed his forehead. The spicy plum gel scented the tent.

  “Luckily, I’m an honest man. Not a good man, but an honest one.”

  “No one is good. If everybody was plum, life would be pointless.”

  He kissed her nipples. “Less adventure?”

  “Mm. Less running and hiding.”

  He kissed her. “And no day might be your last.” She kept her smile, but Ilya could feel her muscles tense. He gazed into her eyes and read her thoughts. “No. I’m not here to face my reckoning. He wouldn’t ask me up here to wait around for my enemies to spring out of the jungle and fill me with bullets. It’s not going to end today, Cho. If I have my way, it’s never going to end.” He saw the uncertainty in her eyes. “He’s never lied to me, and I believe him when he says he offers a better path.”

  “Better? Compared to what?”

  The playfulness returned to her eyes, and Ilya tickled her nose. “Other measures of being no good, of course. That’s the only life for killers like us. I believe those were your exact words.”

  “My memory is not so good.”

  “Oh? I have it on remarkable authority that Cho Suu-Kwan said it to Ignatius Horne on the four hundredth standard day after they met.” He loved talking to her as if his public alter ego was someone such as a business rival. “Then she consented to allow Ignatius into her bed.”

  “She does not sound like woman you should trust. Very slow to make up mind.”

  Ilya laid his head down next to her. “The most dangerous kind, she would say.”

  She sighed. “Yes. Could cut out man’s heart and sell it to best bidder. Revenge is always strong commodity.”

  “More valuable than atonement or redemption?”

  Cho rolled on her side, and they stared into each other’s eyes. “I cannot ask price for something no one wants,” she said.

  “Even if he’s the man you love?”

  “I am businesswoman. I cannot make exceptions.”

  “Of course you can. Seven years ago, a stranger came to you in your dreams and said you would meet a ruthless, eight-foot-tall killer, and he would join you on a path to final truth. You had no chance for profit, but you made an exception. A wise one, I should add.”

  She shrugged. “Dangerous woman invites danger with open arms. Of course, she also carries knife under sleeve.”

  Ilya kissed her with the giddiness of a little boy. “I think this is where I tell you how much I love you.”

  “Words,” she whispered. “They do not impress me. Show.”

  “Should we go again?” He asked, tickling her belly.

  “When did he say he come for you?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Then yes,” she said, licking his nose. “Again.”

  They made love until the sunset then refueled with a high-protein dinner of wanton bars and flash-broiled turgeon fish. As the darkness fell but the roar of the falls continued unabated, Ilya’s ecstasy over the beautiful gift Cho gave him twice that afternoon faded. He watched her fall asleep and wished he could do the same, but he feared what awaited him in his dreams.

  Lately, clouds seemed to gather near him at every turn, as if his training was about to take a perilous shift. The beginning six years ago had been simple: Read the
Hiebim Testament to Truth and a variety of other philosophical perspectives counter to the central Chancellor doctrine of natural hierarchy. Study pre-history as written by ethnics. See humankind from another perspective, he was told. Do not deny your guilt, and understand the man you became. He and Cho shared the journey, precisely as their mentor had insisted.

  Henrik Ericsson, founder of the Chancellor caste and the man who heralded the beginning of a three-thousand-year mission, did not explain why he wanted Ilya to view humanity unlike any of his ancestors. From the first time he spirited Ilya away from the link, Henrik offered few specifics. Moreover, he deflected all questions about his past and said understanding would come when time created a necessity for “final truth.” They trusted him unconditionally, even though he appeared old, at times infirm, and never corporeal. They could not explain the root of this trust, although they often debated between themselves. Frequently, Henrik would announce his presence through reflections. Ilya would sometimes look into a mirror only to find a withered, beaten man staring back with scraggly, ungroomed silver hair and wearing a dusty, fraying blue suit. Henrik would teeter as he tried to put together a greeting then vanish in a blink. Ilya would take the cue and prepare for his next lesson.

  Truth. This appeared to be at the core of all Henrik’s lessons, a theme that seemed remarkably cut-and-dried when the lessons began. Ilya had since come to realize its complexity, and he found far more questions than answers. He was especially troubled by Henrik’s persistent use of ‘final.’ Even though the old man spoke only in short bursts, he always uttered the words ‘final truth’ with a considered enthusiasm – or so Ilya’s paranoia suggested. Henrik’s request to set up camp along the Wai-Chiang was abrupt but to the point.

  “You need answers,” Henrik had said a week earlier, looking up from a pond where Ilya’s reflection should have been. “So do I. We find them now, or we never will.”

  Ilya told himself to relax, close his eyes, and allow the inevitable to take over. He lay next to Cho for most of the night before sleep finally captured him. His dreams took him into docile, even loving domains, at one point featuring Cho and he riding horses along the Sparkling Canyons of Hispania. However, the dreams ceased and Henrik arrived.

  Ilya stood in a center point of light, upon which were merged at least a dozen narrow focused beams, each originating from a round portal and encircling the center point. All other details were obscured in shadow.

  “This is new,” he said, his voice echoing through the darkness.

  “Yes.” Henrik Ericsson walked with a cane, grimacing with each step, as he emerged into the light. “It’s a construct, like the others. But this one … it’s different somehow. I have a sense of time, place. We’re meant to be here again someday. The end of the journey perhaps?”

  Ilya was puzzled. “You talk as if you didn’t create this construct.”

  “In a very real sense, I didn’t. Remember what I told you long ago? I am in between. I am Henrik, I am you, I am myself. What I have is knowledge, not control.”

  “You come to me whenever you decide I’m due for a lesson. I would call that control.” Henrik leaned on his cane and forced a smile between dry, chapped lips. Ilya shook his head. “Why am I here, Henrik?”

  “To validate the past six years. To prepare for the end. You cannot face what has to be done unless you come to terms with the truth about who you are.”

  “The end? You’ve mentioned it twice already. It’s close, isn’t it?”

  Henrik nodded, his shriveled features more grim than usual. “I believe it is. Events are happening, far away. The shape of things is coming into focus. Your father is involved in one of them, as we speak.”

  “Father …? You said our paths were separate.”

  “They are. But all paths intersect given time. Do you miss him?”

  The question unnerved Ilya. They rarely spoke of Sir Ephraim, usually as an indirect reference to his philosophy or to his role in the greater link.

  “No,” Ilya said with confidence. “I’ll never go back there or be a part of that world.”

  Henrik stood up straight. “And why?”

  “Because he poisoned me. Against the ethnics, against morality, against the laws of natural will. I was a monster he designed.”

  “And why else?”

  “Because I know what love is.”

  “Would you not have found love among the Chancellors?”

  “As a concept. Maybe. But not as a principle to govern my life.”

  Henrik looked away, and Ilya could tell the old man was taking another among many wistful trips through his ancient memory.

  “Ilya, I must ask about your love for Cho. Would you say this love is the most satisfying experience of your life?”

  Ilya tried to force a laugh. The question seemed so elementary as to be stupid.

  “Satisfying? Henrik, ‘satisfying’ is a word a Chancellor would use. A mechanical way to wash over something that should be beautiful and boundless. No. The love I feel for Cho …” He groped for the words. “Henrik, I never knew how to breathe until I met her.” Water came to his eyes. “I can breathe!”

  “And so can she,” Henrik whispered. “I am happy for you, Ilya. I see it in your eyes. I feel the exhilaration in your heart.”

  Ilya quickly came back to reality. “But … you always have a ‘but.’”

  “But you were not created to become such a man. You were destined to be a destroyer, long before your father and mother conceived you. You were told at the age of fourteen that your actions would leave civilization in ruin. Before and since that revelation, you have killed hundreds of innocents. Slaughtered them, sometimes with a smile on your face. You justified these killings with numerous rationale. You blamed the chain of command for most, an upbringing in Chancellor elevation philosophy plus the Jewels for most of the rest. You hid behind the cover of self-defense while you lived in Ennoi. In truth, Ilya, you fired first every time. You have shot or slit the throats of precisely one hundred and ninety-five humans. The other six hundred and three you spaced. This brings your grand total to seven hundred and ninety-eight. Perhaps you can breathe, Ilya, but they cannot.”

  Ilya would have been tempted to ball his fist and reduce Henrik to floor scraps if he thought such a thing was possible. Henrik had not allowed Ilya to escape these numbers, splashing them in Ilya’s face every few months. Ilya understood the purpose, but he had hoped to have moved past this exercise.

  “I’m not that man anymore,” he screamed. “I love. I found my heart. I have not so much as injured a man in six years. I have worked hard and lived a quiet, honest life.”

  “Yes, Ilya. You have evolved. However, no man escapes the blood he sheds. There is still a part of you – the Chancellor machine – that does not want to let go. You felt it when you came back here. Holding the rifle in your hand, you were tempted, even for an instant …”

  “No. Those were just memories. How could I help it after everything I did here?”

  “Memories are powerful motivators. Perhaps too powerful. Let us pre-suppose that tragedy were to befall Cho …”

  “Are you saying something is going to …?”

  “No, no. Purely hypothetical. However, if she were to die, I believe your rage would burn away all signposts of the man you have become. Only when every part of your essence rejects the past and comes to terms with the horror of it all, will you be ready to move forward.”

  Ilya nodded. He knew this was true – always had – but hoped his commitment to Cho would be enough. “So that’s why we’re here?”

  “Yes, Ilya. To see how far you will go to prove the truth of what you have become.”

  Ilya felt frustrated. “Then why all the questions about my love for Cho? Why couldn’t you have gone straight to the point?”

  Again, Henrik placed much of his weight on the cane. “If my intent had ever been to get straight to the point, I would have told you everything on the first day. You would have been destroye
d, Cho would have been killed, and the fate of this civilization would have been sealed.” Just as quickly, Henrik brightened up. “No. I asked about your feelings for Cho because I wanted to hear your words. I brought the two of you together for a specific purpose.”

  “Which was?”

  “So you could experience the indefinable magic of love. You needed that, Ilya. You needed …” Henrik pondered, looking away. “You needed to love at least one person before …”

  A flash of recognition chilled Ilya. “Before the end.” Henrik nodded but said nothing. “A gift, in case there’s nothing left of me when this is over.”

  Ilya offered his thanks, but Henrik turned away as if not deserving of praise. He told Ilya to come alone that morning to the cliffs overlooking the falls. He was to bring only his blast rifle. Then both fell into darkness, and Ilya slept uneasily until well after sunrise.

  He and Cho ate a slow breakfast. He told her what Henrik requested. She wanted to come or at the least explore the riverside, but Ilya knew there was no place for her outside this tent. When he kissed her good-bye and told her again how much he loved her, Ilya had the strangest sensation he would never see her again. The shadow passed, and he left her with a smile.

  The falls were more mind-numbingly spectacular than the first time he saw them. Standing upon the cliff close to where the Wai-Chiang cascaded into the abyss, Ilya cleared his mind of all distractions and succumbed to the deafening thunder of the four great falls. He tossed back the hood of his slickers and allowed the mist cloud to soak him like a summer storm. He looked over the edge and tried to see the bottom, a dangerous tactic known to cause many visitors to experience extreme vertigo. Like everyone else, Ilya could not see more than half a kilometer, as the shroud of mist obscured his view. Yet even the vaporous obstacle proved seductive, and he wondered what might lie below: Was it the path to a new world?

  “It is said that visitors do not talk at Ularu Falls.”

  Henrik’s voice, like a throbbing echo, seemed to come from behind. Yet when Ilya swung about, he saw nothing.