Keshona Far Freedom Part 1

turning within the display field to apparently see them holding hands. "Do you have a gentleman friend, Mai-Mai?"

  "Who are you...?" Mai gasped, apparently soon knowing it was Doctor Mnro.

  "Oh, the hair. Just another of my bald phases. So, are you going to introduce me to this attractive young man? He isn't Navy, is he? He has that military bearing and an eye for pretty women." Mai couldn't get any words out. The image of the bald woman, a pale and mischievous face, looked from Mai to Horss and, addressing Horss, nodded toward Mai. "What happened?"

  "I disappointed her. My name is Jon Horss, captain, Union Navy. Perhaps captain of the U.S.S. Freedom."

  "Pleased to meet you, Jon Horss. Perhaps captain? If you were chosen by Fidelity Demba, then you are its captain. What are you both doing on Earth?"

  "You know Admiral Demba?"

  "I'll ask the questions here. What's this about Pan?"

  Horss started to answer but Mai found her voice. "Admiral Etrhnk invited Pan to dinner aboard his ship yesterday and he hasn't returned. We think he's being held prisoner!"

  "Why would Etrhnk do such a thing?" Doctor Mnro asked. "Perhaps you'd better tell me more."

  Mai and Horss told the story of Samson and Admiral Demba, and of all the events up to the present. When they finished, the bald Doctor Mnro said nothing for several moments as she thought about what she heard.

  "At least he hasn't killed her," Mnro finally said. "Yet."

  "What about Pan?" Mai asked. "Can you make Etrhnk let him go?"

  "Has he touched her? Has Pan touched Demba?"

  Mai and Horss looked at each other, then looked back at the image of Doctor Aylis Mnro.

  "We don't know," Mai replied. "Pan visited her early yesterday. Captain Horss was the only one to speak to Pan before he left."

  "He told me she was apparently remembering things," Horss said. He told Mnro what he overheard of Pan's image-link conversation with Etrhnk.

  "Damn!" Mnro swore.

  "It was her DNA that set off the alarms, wasn't it?" Mai asked.

  "Woke me up out of a sound sleep," Mnro said.

  "Why?"

  "Why not? Sleeping isn't living, after all."

  "I don't understand. Why the Denial of Service? Is she Fidelity Demba or is she not? And why are you retiring from the Clinic?"

  "I'm not. I just can't run it for a while."

  "Why? For how long?"

  "I can't say and I don't know! Did Ramadhal put you up to grilling me? Yes. Any more questions to which I can give disappointing answers?"

  "Yes," Horss said. "Who is Samson?"

  "I haven't any idea," Mnro answered simply and sincerely.

  "Pan?" Mai said. "Can you do anything about Pan?"

  Doctor Mnro smiled and vanished.

  1-25 Losing a Father and a Daughter

  "Why? Why must you leave?"

  The idea came to him at this most unsuitable time, the idea that he never thought his father's light color abnormal. He was dark. His mother was dark. His father was almost pale.

  "I can't tell you why," his father said, "except that I've been summoned."

  "But your work isn't finished. Things are worse. You're giving up."

  "I have the patience. Your mother has the patience. Society changes for the better only slowly. It changes for the worse quickly. I have you both to support me. I would never give up. But I've been summoned."

  "What can be more important than the Personal Rights Movement?"

  "The person who summons me understands our mission and fully supports it, Son. He wouldn't summon me if a greater need didn't exist."

  "What could be more important, Father? You work for harmony in the lives of billions of people."

  "It will come to nothing if a greater threat isn't countered."

  "Who summons you? What threatens us?"

  "I can't tell you, Son."

  "You won't soon return, will you?"

  "That is implicit in the summons."

  "Mother can't go with you?"

  "She can but she won't. She won't be permitted to go as far as I go."

  "Why not? If you can live on Rhyandh, she could live on Essiia."

  "She could. But I don't travel to Essiia."

  The implications of his father's statements staggered him emotionally. He likely expected never to see his wife and son again. His father perhaps even expected to die.

  "I confess to feeling very sad now, Father. You've wasted your training on me."

  "Nothing has been wasted on you, Son. You take care of your feelings very well. Perhaps it's that small amount of Earth in your heredity that, paradoxically, brings moderation to your feelings. You must know that I have all these terrible emotions that tear at me behind my armor. Pity me, that I can't moderate them well enough to let them show. I would never be able to leave your mother and you without my training."

  "Let me go with you! There are so many things I want to learn about your people and the Earthians."

  His father stared into his eyes for a long moment but soon enough came to a decision. "We must leave immediately. Wave to your mother. It will be a long time before you see her again."

  He turned around and found his mother standing at the big picture window overlooking the arid land that surrounded their home. He waved to her. She put her hand in the air to return the gesture, then her hand went to her face. He knew what that small movement meant even though he couldn't read his mother's expression from this distance. It made his heart ache. He couldn't swallow. He turned and saw his father walking toward the flyer. He told himself he could change his mind, just deliver his father to the transportation terminal and bring the flyer home. That was what he could do. But how could he let his father go out of his life? He had to follow him as far as he could, until he understood why it had to be. Only then could he return to his mother.

  The scene began to fade from the projection screen in his mind and a panic seized him as he realized he had seen the face of his father and already it was dissolving from memory. He rushed to catch up to the impression of his father, to get in front of it, to stare at it, but his feet couldn't move fast enough, or exist long enough. As the glare of the desert plain faded into the dimness of his detention room, Pan satisfied himself with what he did remember. He had a father he loved, and some terrible thing had caused him to go away forever. He lay back down on the floor, ignoring the furniture in the room, and waited for sleep or for another journey into a lost memory.

  = = =

  "I put on a good show, didn't I?" Mnro asked.

  "I'm quite proud of you," Mnro said.

  "I'm scared," Mnro admitted.

  "I know you are," Mnro agreed.

  "Do I dare call on Etrhnk? When was the last time we talked to him? What did we talk about?"

  "I would have to look at the appointment database. We may never have spoken to him. My memory is no better than yours."

  "That's your penalty for being a copy of an old woman who wasn't in the prime of her life."

  "What will you say to him?"

  "I don't know. He's in his flagship, orbiting Earth?"

  "Yes. What are you thinking?"

  "Don't you know? Who do we have who can be an entourage?"

  "The usual bodyguards, perhaps a deputy or two from the Clinic. How about half a dozen gardeners?"

  "If we get their hands clean and dress them up. Let's call Ramadhal and see how nosy he is."

  = = =

  "I plan to sleep for at least a century." The first cloud of the day threw a shadow across her dark face.

  "That's too long, isn't it?"

  "I've just followed the plan, done what I'm told. I like you as a Latina."

  "I've just tried to find a little happiness. I... think I like you as a..."

  "All I could manage is dark skin and brown eyes. I'm afraid of being recognized."

  "I recognized you."

  "I know. I saw the dread in your eyes."

  "No! I'm honestly happy to see you, Aylis. I
've missed you terribly." She was happy but she did dread. She knew what this unexpected reunion must mean.

  "And I missed you, Zak. I think of you every day."

  She believed her but she could also hear dread in Aylis's voice.

  There was a marching band parading by the far perimeter of Jackson Square. It had two sousaphones, two tempos, and two moods. The woodwinds and percussion played a slow, sad tempo, then the brass would push the tempo fast and merry, with the sousaphones bellowing. She saw Jamie reacting to the distant band and was pleased that she liked the music.

  "But isn't your little girl a bit too European?" Aylis asked.

  It was a question leading to more dread and she answered with a hopeless attempt to avoid the consequences. "Her father was European. He looked a lot like her."

  "You speak of him in the past tense. What happened?"

  "He's gone. I don't want to talk about it." He was gone, yes, but even her memory of him could now be in jeopardy.

  "She reminds me of someone. Why didn't you tell me about her? She's really quite adorable. How old is she? What's her name?"

  "She's six years old. Her name is Jamie. I adopted her when she was a baby."

  "Adopted her? You're not her biological mother?"

  "I wanted to be."

  "You've had her all this time without my knowing? Why couldn't you let me know?"

  "You're so busy and important, Aylis. I know that's no excuse, but..."

  The dark woman sighed and put her arm around her shoulders. They sat on a park bench amid the planned fall of autumn leaves, in New Orleans, L4, watching children play.

  "You don't trust me," Aylis said. "That's why you're lying about your daughter - your real daughter."

  "I've remembered The Plan, Aylis. I don't want to sleep! I'm seventy-seven now and I was never a mother." It was the same as saying the memory editing failed. It was the same as saying she had already violated The Plan.