by Far Freedom
“No, none were set, but I’m still in contact with the Freedom.”
“The person who appears to be Admiral Etrhnk claims your family name. Who is he?”
“Our son.”
“He isn’t Admiral Etrhnk?”
“I wish he never was.”
“We are mystified by your presence here. We are disappointed by your terse answers to our questions. Most of us didn’t realize you were more than escorts for the two extraordinary persons who have captured the interest of everyone. We didn’t expect to dwell on you. If you intend to remain so restrictive in your replies to our questions, we respectfully move on to the two of great interest.”
The man took two steps to stand in front of me. “Please verify you are the one whose memories were recorded. Your image doesn’t appear in the recording.”
“I am the one,” I answered.
“Why did you make the recording?”
I had the presence of mind to consider what effect my answer could have on the criminals who abducted me and Pete. I had no desire to provide testimony toward their guilt. “It was an unexpected occurrence.”
The interviewer waited a few seconds for me to say more. I remained silent. “I’m sure everyone would like to know the circumstances under which you made the recording. I feel you may have been coerced. If you were not, then why did it happen?”
“I don’t intend to answer that question,” I said.
“Is the recording what it seems to be?”
“Yes.”
“Historical analysis of the recording suggests that you lived on Earth in the 20th century. Do you assert this is the case?”
“Yes. I was born in 1952.”
“And you and a woman we assume was your wife did something we don’t quite understand. What was it?”
“We built a machine that would be called a gate nowadays. That is how I disappeared from Earth in 1986 and met Jessie far across the universe.”
“A gate,” the man said. “Those fantastic portals to distant stars that have appeared in speculative fiction for centuries and are currently still a recurring
556 Far Freedom rumor.”
“Yes.”
“That is hard to believe.”
“Yes. The more you know, the harder it is to believe.”
“Assuming she is a real alien,” the interviewer said, “where did your alien companion live? How far did you travel to find her?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “Jessie did not live in this galaxy. Nor do I believe her home galaxy can even be seen from here.”
The questions continued along the line of clarifying what the recording implied of my life. Extracted as dry facts and placed in the bright light for examination, the experiences of my life even seemed less real and less believable to me. It was too fantastic, a wild dream, not a real life. It was a good thing that I was holding the hand of the proof of my real fantasy.
Doctor Ramadhal reappeared, stopping the current host’s interview of me and Jessie. Ramadhal returned much sooner than expected, and in a rush. He turned to face us, as soon as he had his bearings. He walked quickly to Alex, bowed, and extended his hand. Alex took it. “It is my great pleasure to meet you, sir! Your identification set off an alarm in the lab, unlocking hidden records. You are most emphatically Alexandros Gerakis - ” The crowd response overwhelmed the acoustic barrier and Ramadhal was forced to wait until he could be heard. ” - a famous captain in Deep Space Fleet, later an admiral in the Union Navy. The Mnro Clinic now seems to possess a complete set of records for Deep Space Fleet!”
“That was too quick!” the interviewer protested to Ramadhal while the crowd noise continued to rise and fall. “How could you analyze the genetic codes so rapidly? How can you be so sure?”
“I had every person and resource of the Clinic standing by,” Ramadhal replied. “Analysis is not complete but it is accurate. Please let me continue!” Ramadhal turned to Zakiya and waited for less noise. “Admiral Demba, you were born Zakiya Muenda, on Earth, two hundred eighty-seven years ago. Your Clinic records list Ruby Reed and Fidelity Demba as names you have used. May I also reveal your other identity?”
“Please don’t,” Zakiya said.
I didn’t know what Ramadhal was talking about. It wasn’t intriguing at the moment to know who else Zakiya became in her series of lifetimes. That she never told me could imply it was unimportant - or worse. I didn’t need to know who she had been - I knew who she was. My friend.
Ramadhal moved to stand in front of Pete. He smiled at him and shook his head, as if in disbelief. Eventually he was able to speak about Pete. “Your genetic code was manipulated to make you appear Essiin to all but the most careful analysis. If your genetic code hadn’t set off the same alarm as the others did, I may not have looked further. You are Earthian. You’re Admiral Etrhnk, of course. But you are also Petros Gerakis, the son of Alexandros and Zakiya. You have a sister named Jamie.”
“Doctor Ramadhal. Doctor Ramadhal!”
The doctor turned around to frown at the panel of inquisitors. A civilian dignitary next to the Navy admirals stood to pose a question. “You said alarms were set off when you analyzed their genetic codes. Why?”
“There are millions of people of special interest to the Mnro Clinic. They’re a part of our research. They set off alarms when their genetic codes are revealed from tissue samples.”
“You made it sound as if these three were of special interest to the Mnro Clinic.”
“Is that a question?”
“Are they more than simple research subjects?”
“Did you hear who they are? Admiral Demba knew Doctor Mnro long before there was a Mnro Clinic! Of course these three are very important to the Clinic and to Doctor Mnro!”
“But the Clinic - “
“Let me continue with what you asked me to do. Then you can make your oblique accusations against the Mnro Clinic.”
“I beg-“
“The Mnro Clinic has no genetic record for Samuel Lee or the alien named Jessie. We are still analyzing their codes. Preliminary results suggest Samuel Lee was human and was probably born a long time ago. It’s difficult to understand his genetic composition because it has taken on some of the features of that of his alien companion. We can, however, determine that he’s related to one other subject in our database: the child named Samson, of whom we have already spoken. He’s undoubtedly the father of Samson. Did you know this, Samuel Lee?”
“Yes.”
“Can you provide me any clues to the biological nature of your companion? I am quite amazed that she possesses DNA that is in any way compatible with ours.”
“The compatibility was a long process. Jessie doesn’t understand it. Aylis is far from explaining it.”
“Are you finished, Doctor Ramadhal?” the interviewer asked.
“I’ve finished the task you required of me,” Ramadhal replied in a disappointed voice.
“Doctor Ramadhal, please forgive my seeming lack of respect, but how can we trust that you’re telling us the truth about these people?” Ramadhal opened his mouth to speak but didn’t. He was apparently shocked that he and the Mnro Clinic could possibly not be believed. “What you have told us,” the man continued, “implies the Mnro Clinic was involved in secret projects, that it may not be the benign pillar of civilization everyone believes.” Ramadhal remained speechless. “Even if the others are who you say they are,” the man said, “how can you prove this person (he pointed at Jessie) is a real alien? Certainly she appears somewhat exotic.”
“You have no idea what wonders her genetic code presented to me in just the briefest examination!” Ramadhal declared.
“You needn’t harass Doctor Ramadhal,” Pete said. “He doesn’t remember me but I worked for the Mnro Clinic. I was a founder of many Mnro Clinic locations. I became Admiral Etrhnk for the sole purpose of helping my mother. Sam and Jessie are a message we bring to certain persons who may be observing this venue. Sam disappeared from Earth seven hun
dred years ago. He’s come home to find Milly. We hope she’s watching and knows who he is. Jessie is of a race who call themselves the Servants. Others of her race reside secretly in the Union. They are called the Golden Ones. In effect, they and Milly rule all of humanity, including the billions who live beyond the Union frontier. This condition must cease. We must speak with Milly. Jessie must meet with the Golden Ones.”
Zakiya stood up as Phuti Mende appeared directly in front of her. The
Marines reacted to his realistic presence as an intruder. Zakiya shielded him and the rest of us stood up to help.
” Stand down!” Pete ordered the Marines, and darned if they didn’t pause.
“Who is this?” a Navy admiral demanded, approaching from his cadre of fellow officers.
“I have bad news,” Phuti said to us, ignoring the admiral. He looked around at the crowd and paused. He smiled too briefly as he let his gaze touch each of us before returning to Zakiya.
“Tell me,” Zakiya said. “The ship?”
“The ship is safe. We’re in the Sagittarius Gulf. We have targets. Do you want to know more?”
“What has happened?”
“Bring out your cryptikon.”
Zakiya produced the cryptikon, set it in the air, made it resist drifting. Phuti disappeared and a perfect miniature image of the bridge of the Freedom took his place. I noticed the media coverage of this phenomenon. Both the dazzling alien artifact and the image it produced were focused upon and sent to the local projectors. Perhaps the images went out to every place in the Union. The meeting was supposed to be broadcast but we had no way of verifying that.
The bridge image rose above us and expanded into the unobstructed overhead space over the platform. We could see the few officers at their stations on the Freedom as though they rested on an invisible deck. They could apparently see us as well. All above them, reproduced from the planetarium-like display dome of the Freedom’s bridge, lay the dark of space, a spray of stars at either end of the view, and in the darkness between were strange yellow clouds. Not until the cryptikon image of the bridge matched scale with us did I understand the clouds were thousands of targets.
Jon Horss turned around in his captain’s chair, looked down on our platform in the hangar, then looked over at Khalanov and Direk. Jamie sat in the instrumented position immediately in front of Horss.
The view of the galaxy neighborhood changed. The Freedom had jumped. Fresh data overlaid an expanded angle of the gulf. Bright yellow pinpoints of light sprinkled across a background of distant, fainter, bluer stars. They flickered out and reappeared in a phalanx of yellow mist. Another wave of yellow blinked into existence at the far left edge of the gulf. These were Black Fleet jumpships! Why were so many mobilized?
“How many?” Alex asked.
“About a quarter of a million,” Horss replied. “We think they’re bound for Earth.”
“We’ve precipitated it!” Zakiya said, her voice stained with guilt and foreboding. If it was not my stolen memories, then it was the rescue of Pete from the barbarian games that had pushed the Black Fleet past its fear of the Lady in the Mirror.
“How are you acquiring targets at that range?” Pete asked.
“The same way the Lady in the Mirror sees her ships,” Horss answered. “Stand by.”
“We’re interfering with your operations,” Zakiya said.
“Stay with us. Another trick we’ve learned. We have three cryptikons locking on your position. We’re computing the jump coordinates. Verify your Earth System location.”
“We’re in the moonward industrial end of High Cuba.”
“We’ll aim for L1. It should be clear.”
“Why are you jumping for Earth?”
” You need help.”
“If the Black Fleet is coming in such force, there’s nothing you can do! Stay away! Keep the children safe!”
“All nonessential persons were left in the care of the Fesn on the other side of the galaxy two hours ago. That includes Sunny. Please reconsider your orders, Zakiya. We may have time to accomplish your objective. We monitored your activities and the progress of four swarms of jumpships. There should be an interval in which we can facilitate your operation.”
“Jump, then, but don’t engage the Black Fleet if you can’t extract us in time.”
” Acknowledged.”
Horss turned to Direk and Iggy and asked: “Do we have coordinates?”
“Numbers are locked.”
“Jamie, you may jump.”
“We’ve arrived, Jon.”
“Do you have our gate signal, Zakiya?” Horss asked.
“We’re linked, Jon. Cryptikon off.”
All of us were standing close together. Close enough. The Freedom’s gate took us.
The narration of Samuel Lee ends.
Section 018 KILL THEM ALL!
Time. Melvin always had too much time. It had felt much as Fred did, that being alive was not meaningful enough. Only the fear of death kept it going, and Fred didn’t even seem to fear death. It was instinct, of course, built into Melvin’s organic complexity, the instinct for survival. Without an organic body, Fred not only had no instinct to survive, but he was missing all of the diversions from morbid thought that such a complicated chemical mechanism provided. Now Melvin’s body wanted to give it even more reason to live - the attraction to a human - just when time seemed to be running out.
Time was running out! Melvin was so distracted by its reaction to Pan that it almost didn’t put its facts together in time. Petros Gerakis - Admiral Etrhnk - had appeared as Constant said he would. According to Pan, Etrhnk had allowed the Freedom to escape his control with his mother in command. That would bring Etrhnk’s career to an end. The Lady would send him to the Black Fleet games to die. That meant the final days of the Golden Ones was at hand, and there might be something in the news that would confirm it. The Hole was still far away, and if it was Pan’s destiny to kill The Lady, it could be too late. Not that Melvin wanted to aid such a terrible destiny.
“What are you doing?” Pan asked, stopping when Melvin lagged behind. He watched the golden alien remove its large backpack and begin searching into it.
“We don’t want to be late for the party!” Melvin declared. “I’m such a dimwit! If Petros is going to kill us, it must be soon! If you are to kill The Lady it must be soon!”
“I thought it was just a joke to you, that I would kill the Lady in the Mirror. Are you serious? I thought she was the only protection for the Golden Ones.”
“I think she is killing Milly,” Melvin said, fishing a small piece of equipment out of its backpack. “And I know the whole situation has been killing the Golden Ones for centuries. They call it ‘living on the edge.’ It’s time to push them over the edge! Let the barbarians come!”
Melvin set the little black box on top of its backpack and pushed a button. An image was projected in the shade of a tree and a voice spoke, explaining the content of the image. In the image a large doorway opened in a building and a dozen people squirted out of it, most of them stumbling and falling. They all got up and ran. The door closed slowly but inexorably, showing the limbs of others retracting as they were too late to exit the building. A minute later the door opened again and another dozen people came out in a panic. “This is a typical control point in Manhattan Three,” the voice said. “Obviously, this will not solve the panic problem. One can only imagine the chaos and violence on the other side of that door. I repeat the official communication from the Navy: there is no sign of any invading force, even to the frontier of Union space. We urge everyone to remain as calm as possible.”
Melvin changed the channel. A strange face appeared in closeup, not a human face but not too much unlike a human face. Melvin knew immediately it was a Golden One. A featherless Golden One.
“Is that one of you?” Pan asked.
As if in answer to his question, an announcer spoke: “This is Jessie Lee, for those of you who have not experienced The
Dream and are just joining this special news event. The Mnro Clinics have verified that she is not human. There is no consensus on whether the invaders are of her race. In The Dream there is another alien being of a different species, something called a Fesn, who appears to live among humans. We are trying to pull together an image of this alien. The Fesn is also an uncertain source of these invaders. All we know is that the invading force is called the Black Fleet and that there are at least a quarter of a million ships. The Navy denies there is any invading force.”
“Oh, dear God!” Melvin wailed. “Petros has sent the Black Fleet against The Lady!”
“Wait,” Pan said, “there’s more we missed.” The image of Jessie Lee moved left and showed two human males. Pan recognized one of them. “That’s Petros.” The view panned in the opposite direction, back to Jessie Lee and the two humans seated to her left. “And there is Zakiya! Is that… yes! That’s Alexandros Gerakis. This was recorded earlier. The Golden Ones have decided to surrender.”
“Alas, no,” Melvin sighed. “The Golden One named Jessie is not one of us. I don’t know who she is. The man to her right is vaguely familiar. I wish we could hear what they were saying.”
“If Zakiya is in Earth System,” Pan said, “the Freedom must also be here. Is there any way we can contact the ship?”
“I’ll activate my distress signal,” Fred said. “It would help if you turned off your privacy fields.”
“What good will that do?” Melvin asked. “If you want to go to The Lady now, I can take you. If they haven’t changed my password.”
“You can get us into the place where the Lady in the Mirror originates?” Pan asked. “You have access to a gate?”
“You needn’t sound so miffed,” Melvin said. “I didn’t want you getting hurt any sooner than necessary! Never did I want you hurt! Would we meet Petros on this ship?”
“We might. Does that concern you, Melvin?”
“You will protect me, won’t you, Pan?”
“Somebody has found us,” Fred reported. “My distress beacon has been answered multiple times.” A probe arrived by transmat and Fred negotiated with it until he was able to communicate with the Freedom. “Be ready for transmat,” he warned.