“As I said, I can speak several Earth languages, mostly European, including dialects,” Darlen sparked back through his forcefield and sat down, he looked like he would reveal more, but a low ringing sound drew his attention.
“Well, folks, we’re here! Keep your eyes to the front for the fireworks!” then he launched into a dialect that was most distinctly not English, nor German, nor any language that any of them could name. A disembodied voice answered him in the same tongue.
At the exact moment he concluded his conversation, the mistiness covering the wide window at the front of the control room cleared. It wasn’t fireworks. It was a spectacle thousands of times more impressive. Every jaw, including Eli’s, dropped in awe.
The window filled with the glory and brilliance of space; not a dark empty vacuum, but a broad panorama of spheres and bright, colourful clouds set against a backdrop of sizzling points of light. A golden curve dominated the left side of the window; as the ship turned, it came into full view.
“That’s Mentelci,” Darlen said, “home of the League.”
His stunned audience swivelled their heads as he spoke. The planet glowed yellow, not brilliant enough to be a sun, but every bit as remarkable.
“To your right is a stellar cloud, we call it ‘The Gade’,” Darlen continued in the manner of a tour guide. “It’s not so grand, it just looks it from here.” And like tourists, they looked from left to right as he pointed out The Gade’s features, marvelling at every colour of the rainbow merging into one long drifting line of gas, as if someone splashed translucent paint on a starry backdrop, allowing the colours to trickle into one another at random. Dead ahead, the sky was a panorama of twinkling points of light, and odd, cold-looking empty areas. Darlen’s promise of “quite a sight” was a colossal understatement.
“I feel like I fell into an oil painting,” Helen’s voice, trance-like, echoed the wonder they all felt. Each of them exhaled slowly, having forgotten momentarily to breathe as they saw their first view of the extraordinary splendour of their new universe. For a few seconds breathing had become an unnecessary distraction, as the beauty of the spectacle before them moved, enraptured and completely mesmerised each of them.
The reverie was short lived. A buzzing from the control room brought them back to their prison. From the direction of the yellow planet, a star moved upwards. The captives watched as the star rose and expanded, until it changed in form to a sleek, circular vessel, crowding the window and dwarfing Darlen’s ship and blocking out the view of the planet and space beyond.
In front of Darlen’s control panels, an indistinct image of an older man, regal in stature and dress from what they could see, spoke to Darlen in the same language they’d heard in the exchange from minutes before. The regal man occasionally looked across to the captives during the brief conversation. Then he turned to them.
“I am sorrowful, this be a terrible deal…” a distant voice, speaking in English corrected the regal man’s syntax. The regal man glanced behind before returning his attention to the interior of the room, “… ordeal, I am not good with your tongues. Soul Monger? Is these only they?”
“That survived, your excellency. I took ten.”
The regal man shook his head. “I hoped none would die.”
Laurel listened in alarm. There were others? Others who died?
The official man bowed slightly and resumed his own language. Darlen replied in English.
“On my way.”
But even with the knowledge there had been more abducted, people who’d died, and regardless of everything Darlen said since they’d woken, and irrespective of the extraordinary evidence before her eyes, Laurel simply couldn’t process the plausibility of the situation. Through that window, Laurel saw planets and stars in a space where she could not conceivably be. More than that, she saw it all from a spacecraft holding technology Earth’s scientists still dreamed of but would probably never discover. The window through which all those beautiful stars and planets appeared, was now filled with yet another spaceship the size of a good many football pitches. She turned to Helen, whose eyes were wide with astonishment. Marta stared straight ahead; Chloe and Eli were still under a spell, and Xavier was watching Darlen.
“Did you understand any of that?” Darlen said as they rose above the larger ship, the dashboard hula girl’s hip and arms swaying as a gentle vibration filled the chamber.
“The English part,” Laurel said after a moment when no-one else offered an answer. “I suspect they’re our destination, our buyers.”
“Not your ultimate destination, but they paid me for you, so I suppose they own you.”
“You said there were others—others who died?” Laurel had to know. Now they’d arrived here, had seen that—that holographic man or whatever he was, the way he spoke, his apology, gave her a sense they would be protected. Just how she wasn’t sure.
“It happens, the Transcender can be pretty tough.”
“How can you be so blasé about someone’s life?”
“You haven’t seen Earth’s future, believe me, in some cases, I’m doing them a favour.”
“And you have seen Earth’s future, I suppose?”
Darlen didn’t turn around. “Yup, not great for the most part.”
Laurel was going to say more, ask what he meant, rebuke him for his lack of care, but the ship clanged and shuddered as it entered the larger ship. For a brief second, the panorama of space filled their view once more as the ship banked, then the stars disappeared as they came to rest. Mer pulled Laurel and Helen from their seats. The binder shifted to Helen’s wrist and attached to Laurel, linking the two of them; Laurel’s binder connected to Marta; Marta’s to Chloe and Chloe’s to Xavier with Eli at the rear of the column. Darlen ahead of them, they shuffled along chain-gang style, Mer bringing up the rear. While they waited for Darlen to lower the screeching, clanging ramp that sounded as if it needed a good dose of grease, Laurel glanced behind at Marta. Marta would be five feet ten, and her scant surgical gown barely covered her lower parts, it didn’t bear thinking about what would be hanging below the taller, younger man’s gown. She tried to pull her covering down to a modest length, but it refused to yield.
Two men stood at the base of the ramp. They recognised the regal man they’d seen on Darlen’s ship; short and round, his skin was so pale it took on a distinct greenish tinge. He looked too sick to be standing out here; on Earth, he would have been in a hospital bed receiving an iron transfusion. His hair, moustache and beard were snow white, matching the long, thick tufts of hair that waved cheerfully from his ears. The second man was younger, tall, slim and sandy-haired, less regal but still immaculately turned out. The men beamed as they waited for them to descend; behind them, a line of normally-complexioned male and female uniformed officers stood to attention. Two Mer-type robots, burnished to a rich sheen, likewise stood with the guards. To Laurel, this looked all the world like a welcoming committee.
The manacled group shuffled onto the ramp where the regal man stepped forward, grinning as he reached out to greet Helen at the head of the line, but when he and his colleague saw the restraints, their smiles changed to expressions of dismay.
The next few moments passed in a blur. The younger of the two men turned towards Darlen, but Helen chose that moment to pass out. The regal man reached out to catch her as she crumpled into a faint at his feet, her binder dragging Laurel down to sprawl inelegantly across Helen in an untidy heap. Marta managed to only sink to her knees, but Chloe slammed into Marta’s back. Mer’s clawed arm shot out to stop Xavier and Eli from falling, but Xavier’s arm was yanked forward hard, wrenching Chloe’s arm up behind her, causing her to cry out in pain.
At once, the two men were on their knees beside Helen. Laurel wriggled herself around into a kneeling position, conscious of the limited length of her surgical gown, but too worried about Helen to give much thought to modesty. The restraint joined her arm to Marta across Helen’s body. Darlen made to move forward, but the
sandy-haired man checked him with a fierce glance. A transparent, beach ball-sized globe hovered into position beside them, and with a word from the man, aimed a narrow beam of light towards Helen’s neck, a stream of data appearing in the air above her head. The man waved the beach ball away, then took Helen’s hand in a gesture of concern and comfort that both surprised and bewildered Laurel. He waited for a moment, then twisted his body to fix Darlen with a look of pure outrage, spitting out a stream of invective-sounding words under his breath. The language was alien to Laurel, but he sounded furious.
Darlen didn’t even blink, merely shrugged and lifted his eyebrows, but he took the releasing device from his shirt, and the restraints disappeared. “It’s what I always do,” he mumbled casually, but there was no apology.
The regal man, still on his knees, sneered at Darlen, and placed a hand on his colleague’s shoulder to lever himself up. He stepped back from the group and with a gesture, summoned a uniformed guard forward to assist Xavier in helping Chloe stand.
“She’ll be alright, it’s just a faint,” the younger man smiled at Laurel, speaking in heavily accented English. “And I’m not surprised,” he again glared at Darlen. He placed Helen’s hand gently into Laurel’s. “She’s dehydrated, you all are, you need water. We planned on welcomes, explanations, answering questions,” he frowned, “even apologies! But I’m afraid that may have to wait, it seems we must attend to your health first.”
The sandy-haired man had a kind face and manner, and Laurel’s assessment of these people raised a notch, but she couldn’t overlook the part they played in their arrival here. One act of compassion would not prevent her from informing him, in no uncertain terms, what she thought, even if she had to do it across Helen’s unconscious body.
“I appreciate your help with Helen,” she said coolly, “but we’ve been transported here, and none of us knows where ‘here’ is. He,” she looked up at Darlen, “bound us like common criminals, and now we’re paraded like circus animals in front of all these people.” She looked out at the line of curious spectators. The man followed her glance, the unacceptability of this situation clear to him. “And all you can say is it has to wait?” she continued. “We want an explanation right now! After that, you can give us water.”
The man nodded and called over his shoulder, not to anyone specifically, but there followed an immediate scurrying of individuals, leaving behind only a couple of the uniformed personnel close, who averted their gaze from the scene before them.
Helen opened her eyes. She saw the man first, and her eyes widened in panic, but then she focused on Marta and Laurel, frightened fingers clutching at them both.
“Laurel! What happened? It’s true, isn’t it?”
Laurel squeezed her hand. “You fainted Helen; you’re okay. These people don’t mean us any harm,” she soothed, convincingly she hoped, because she couldn’t be sure, they might be worse than Darlen, but at least they were free from the restraints. On the face of it, everyone seemed sympathetic and concerned.
A hovering, cushioned stretcher came alongside. It dropped to floor level and scooped Helen up gently and quickly with no help from any of the people standing around. Laurel had never seen such a device in all her nursing career. Every moment since Darlen woke her, she’d witnessed the unbelievable, sandwiched between the incomprehensible.
“We’ve arranged accommodation for you,” the younger man said, as he helped Laurel stand. “Food and drink are available—we hope to your taste—we relied on Darlen to tell us.” He smiled apologetically, “Possibly not the best choice of a guide as it turns out.”
As she stood, Laurel tried to make herself shorter, painfully aware of how much was exposed by the surgical gowns. But the welcoming committee appeared not to have noticed.
“We’re unaccustomed to the ways of a Soul Monger, and to be honest…” the man cast a disparaging look at Darlen, “we are outraged by your treatment.”
“Yes, yes,” the regal man joined in. “Commander Harry speaks the truth, young female, er, er, woman. We hope you will not judge us by our lack of grace and our…” he waited for a word from Commander Harry.
“Ignorance, your Worship.”
“Yes, ignorance. I am Canon Akkuh, High Chancellor of the League of Treaty Planets. My colleague is Commander Harry. I am pleased to meet you, and we are meant to greet you with our names?”
Laurel looked at the others; no-one responded, but Canon Akkuh didn’t appear overly concerned by that. “We welcome you here,” he bowed to the group. They all met his greeting with nothing more than a blink, except Helen, who was still away with the fairies.
“We intended to greet you with proper introductions,” Commander Harry said, “but the presence of the anchors was unexpected. After that, of course, it unfolded somewhat differently than we anticipated,” he looked across at Canon Akkuh. “It has not gone as we hoped.”
“We wished to honour you by covering ourselves with our most ceremonious of vestments,” Canon Akkuh said, making a sweeping gesture with his hands.
“Well, thank you for dressing for the occasion,” Laurel replied, not sure if these people would understand a nuance such as sarcasm. “As you can see, we did not,” she tugged at the hem of her surgical gown.
Both men’s gaze went down to Laurel’s exposed legs. Commander Harry had the good manners to look embarrassed, and Canon Akkuh had plainly not noticed. He pressed his lips together, then voiced his displeasure to Commander Harry. Commander Harry listened but didn’t translate his remarks to Laurel. He didn’t need to, the Canon’s tone conveyed precisely his views. When Canon Akkuh finished, Commander Harry addressed her, selecting her as the spokesperson for the group.
“Madam, I will see to it personally that you are supplied with more proper and dignified coverings. Please accept our apologies for the way you have been brought here. I assure you, we mean you no harm, and while we understand you wish to have the details of your removal here explained, we need to consider the effects of your long space flight. And in a place,” he glanced around, allowing his gaze to settle briefly on Darlen, “where you feel less…vulnerable.”
Laurel nodded her approval; perhaps getting away from Darlen and this place where they were on display made sense. “You won’t delay too long with your explanation?”
Commander Harry inclined his head. “I promise we won’t.”
Canon Akkuh stood aside as the little procession left the landing area. Two women accompanied them, along with the young soldier who helped Chloe, matching their still somewhat shuffling pace and waiting as all of them cast curious looks at their surroundings. Laurel took a moment to peek back at Darlen’s ship. The other, smaller craft neatly arranged in the hangar, were of a different design, and looked well-maintained with the same sleekness of their mother ship. Darlen’s ship stood out; it looked like him, a reprobate, large, scruffy and not to be trusted. And beyond, through the gaping mouth of the hangar, it seemed as if every star in the universe waited just outside.
Chapter 5
Canon Akkuh and Commander Harry waited for the sad little group to shuffle away before unleashing their fury on Darlen, who didn’t blink at the liberal tide of fricative consonants coupled with facial expressions that gave considerable weight to their anger. The two men’s native language, far better suited to swearing than English, provided enough vent to their displeasure for Mer to make a move to stand between them and Darlen.
Darlen held up his hand to check the robot and snickered. “You assigned me to collect a bunch of whole souls from Earth. The League issued the call themselves. I can quote from the manifesto if you wish?” Commander Harry and Canon Akkuh didn’t wish, but that didn’t stop Darlen. “It says, ‘We failed the people of Semevale 7. We cannot repeat that failure. If we are to contain this war, we need to identify our adversary. We do not have the ability to achieve that alone. There is only one way…’ And it goes on and on. We all know what the ‘only one way’ is, don’t we?” he gave a pointed loo
k at Canon Akkuh. “Whole souls. Though, if I recall, you voted against them.”
Canon Akkuh glowered back in reply. That wasn’t common knowledge.
“You treated them despicably, Darlen,” Commander Harry jabbed a finger at him, stopping just short of establishing contact with his chest, privately feeling he would like to punch him; he’d enjoy seeing him passed out on the deck, even though he didn’t especially relish the idea of grappling with Mer, who was highly protective of his master. “You humiliated them with meagre coverings and restraints. It’s little wonder the woman collapsed.”
“I did nothing different to what I always do or did until you shut it down. Not all of them come quietly once they realise there’s no going back.”
Canon Akkuh held up his hand. This was pointless. “There’s no need for this individual to remain on the ship, is there, Harry?”
“I planned to send him to their quarters to instruct them in use of the facilities, Excellency. The Soul Monger’s use of English is stronger than my own.”
“None of them need to suffer him a moment longer.”
Harry bowed; he heartily agreed. “He will be removed in all haste.”
Canon Akkuh threw Darlen a look of disgust before turning to walk away. Commander Harry indicated to the waiting soldiers, who promptly launched their loading operation onto Darlen’s ship.
“What’s he so touchy about?” Darlen gestured at the Canon’s departing back. “He signed off on the order, didn’t he? Or did Congress go over his head?”
“He’s offended by the same thing as me probably, which is you.”
“I delivered. You should be thanking me.”
Harry ignored the last remark. “Why the boy?”
“He’s not a boy,” Darlen shook his head, taking a moment to observe as Mer went to oversee the loading operation. “He’s older than the younger girl, and on Earth, he’s considered an adult. He won’t grow significantly. I wanted his brother; I aimed to bring them both, but the brother was dead, killed protecting this one. This ‘boy’ has reflexes not one of your soldiers has, not even close, and he understands oppression, persecution, fear, both in the giving and receiving.”
The Soul Monger Page 4
