The Soul Monger

by Matilda Scotney

  Chapter 9

  They took turns in the slot and dressed up in their mismatched garments, barely finishing breakfast before Asde returned wearing his trademark grin. He pointed to Xavier.

  “Come with,” he said, reaching out his hand in invitation. Xavier stood without question and followed him, glancing at Laurel and lifting his shoulders and hands in a gesture of, “I don’t know what’s going on,” as they stepped through the door.

  Chloe moved closer to Helen, her voice wavering as she asked, “Where do you think they’re taking him?”.

  “We know one thing, they’re not particularly good at explaining themselves,” Marta said as she explored ways of making the parachute fit better.

  Helen slapped her hand on the table. “We should have demanded answers from the moment we stepped out of Darlen’s ship!” she declared, setting her lips in an angry line.

  “You were flat on your back,” Marta pointed out.

  Helen paused, that was true enough. “Well, maybe not me, but Laurel could have,” she turned to Laurel, “you seem to have established a rapport with them.”

  “I don’t know about a rapport, Helen, but I get the sense these people aren’t out to harm us. Xavier wouldn’t have left with Asde if he was concerned.”

  “You get the sense? Like the empath thing?” Helen’s eyes widened, and Laurel wasn’t sure how to respond, but Eli cut in, mocking.

  “Shoot him or let him go!”

  Chloe whimpered, and Helen put a protective arm around her, throwing Eli a warning glare. He just grunted and closed his eyes.

  “None of us knows what’s going on, Chloe, but we’re here with you,” Helen soothed, kissing the top of Chloe’s head and hugging her tight.

  “What if they separate us?” Chloe gulped.

  “I think they mean for us to be together, Chloe,” Laurel said. “They’re sending us to the same place. Xavier will be back soon, I’m sure.”

  “What place?”

  “I’m sorry,” Laurel had to admit. “I don’t know.”

  Feeling the effects of the previous night’s lack of sleep, Helen and Laurel dozed on their couches. Marta recited a few German myths and legends to a subdued Chloe, and Eli, without a word, washed and changed into the clean clothes.

  Asde woke Laurel, and bleary-eyed from sleep, she looked around for Xavier, but Asde was alone. He extended his hand to help her up from the couch, and Laurel followed him, all eyes on her as she went. Asde had disturbed Helen when the door opened, and Laurel saw she was unsettled about her leaving. But Laurel didn’t feel unsettled; she felt curious, and excitement fluttered in the pit of her stomach.

  A narrow platform hovered a few inches from the ground in the passageway outside the apartment. The platform was remarkably stable, but Asde held her arm as she stepped up, not letting go until four lighted pillars ascended on each corner. The pillars reminded Laurel of the restraints on Darlen’s ship, and they gave her a moment of uncertainty before she realised this was a force field to stop the occupants from falling. Asde stepped up behind, and the platform took off at a slow jogging pace, flowing smoothly out of the path of other platforms, robots and people coming in the opposite direction; many of the platforms didn’t have the pillars at each corner, presumably because the occupants were so accustomed to riding them. Asde kept a hand on her arm for added security, but after a few moments, Laurel felt utterly secure, enough that she could observe the changing environments as they progressed. Over and over, the sheer size of the ship struck her. They travelled through a spacious atrium, complete with shrubs and a pond in the centre. Hundreds of individuals of different races, all human-looking and in a variety of uniforms pursued their daily business. Several uniformed men and women of Eli’s colouring moved in a group through the atrium, each at least seven feet tall. Other people, of a more standard height, whom Laurel assumed were civilians, wore clothing which ranged from the simple to the theatrically elaborate.

  “This ship is enormous,” she craned her neck around to look at Asde.

  Asde smiled and nodded. “All people from big conference on Mentelci, here for business with Canon Akkuh.”

  “About the war?”

  “Not just war,” Asde grinned. “Life still going on in other star systems and on planets. League very big.”

  Of course, life would go on as it always did. Laurel didn’t yet know the reach of the hostilities, but from what she saw, these people seemed relaxed, friendly and some even greeted each other jovially. The atmosphere was one of camaraderie, of cooperation and she got no sense of war, but a universe is so vast, maybe it hadn’t spread.

  The journey, punctuated with several pauses where the platform took off vertically before proceeding along other passageways, ended at a vast mezzanine in the heart of the ship. Laurel knew intuitively they’d arrived at a medical facility. Asde helped her down from the platform, instructing her to “stand by”, then with a smile, took off on the platform towards the lower decks. Laurel looked around. Several globes like the one that attended Helen moved with purpose around the facility; there were no operating tables or examination couches, and despite its visible industry and purpose, the area was hushed, the atmosphere bordering on reverent. Several men and women stood together; one of them looked up and separated himself from the gathering.

  Harry looked less official, attired in dark blue with several important-looking insignias emblazoned on the left side of his chest. More than a head taller than Laurel, he was possibly a few years older than she, sandy hair cropped close to his head; not even a tidy crop, because the hair mostly stood up in little spikes, like a brush. His face was slender and freckled, and his eyes, bright green. Harry’s ears sat out from his head, giving him a gawky appearance but Laurel knew this was an educated man, an intelligent man. He greeted her with a smile that revealed perfect teeth and a decent proportion of pink gums.

  “Laurel, welcome,” he held out his hand and drew her to a section where a blue light emitted from the ground. He arranged her above it, his hands on her shoulders.

  “You’ll find a few surprises here, I’m sure. Quite different from the hospitals you are used to. Do you trust me?” Harry cocked his head to the side and smiled.

  Laurel nodded mutely.

  “Okay, I need you to lie down. Stand still,” he instructed. “You’ll feel support behind your knees; just relax and let it happen.” A gentle wave washed against the back of her legs, and Laurel was buoyed up and supine in fewer than five seconds. Commander Harry leaned over and gently adjusted her head on the support. He smiled as he glanced down at the poorly coordinated clothing.

  “I’m sorry about the clothes; we were completely at a loss and gathered them up from a communal property locker. It doesn’t look as if they gave much thought to sizes either.”

  “It’s alright Commander,” Laurel smiled. “At least they’re less revealing than what we were wearing.”

  “You’re very gracious,” he inclined his head. “Did you have the second rehydrating solution last night?”

  Laurel nodded. “It came through the dispenser. Eli had some as well.”

  “Good, we added a little extra to help counteract the effects of the Transcender.”

  Several pieces of equipment began a slow descent from above. “We need to make certain you’re unharmed by your journey here,” Harry said, but as Laurel tensed, he held up his hand to stop the instrument’s approach. “I realise this is all strange, but I promise you won’t be harmed.” He looked at her shorn locks. “I can give you something to stimulate your hair growth as well,” he smiled. “If you wish.”

  Laurel pushed away her anxiety at the array of equipment hovering above her. She’d just agreed to trust him, so she would have faith in that decision. “Thank you, yes, and of course, proceed with any checks you need, Commander Harry. Harry?” the query was unmistakable.

  “My father is from Earth,” Harry said with a smile as he manipulated the equipment into position. “I’m named aft
er him.”

  “Your father?”

  “Yes, one of the last whole souls gathered by the Soul Mongers. He escaped to treaty space when I was a newborn. He lives under the protection of the League now.”

  “If your father is from Earth, are you like us? A whole soul?” Laurel made a helpless gesture. “Not that I know what that means.”

  “I’m a half-soul, but I like to think I have my father’s best attributes,” he laughed, a hearty, natural laugh that reached right to his eyes. His openness made Laurel smile. What were her instincts telling her regarding this man? Nothing in his manner gave rise to fear; rather, he was easy to trust. They were in no danger from him. Hell, she was letting him do “tests” on her! But there was no getting away from what she needed to know.

  “You promised answers.”

  “I did,” he frowned slightly. “But Helen fainted, and four of you registered elevated levels of cortisol and adrenaline, and as you correctly pointed out, you weren’t properly clad. The presence of Chloe and Eli also took us by surprise, so it wasn’t the right time for the speech about why you are here, and Canon Akkuh insisted on a period of rest. I agreed in part, there’s much for you to hear but…” he leaned closer, his voice scarcely above a whisper, pretending to adjust the position of her head. “We’ll talk during the diagnostics.”

  “Xavier didn’t come back,” Laurel turned her head to the side to see if anyone else was undergoing an examination.

  “He’s fine,” Harry assured her. “He had a few issues he asked us to fix for him. Don’t worry. Now, lie still, you’ll find this interesting.”

  “I wondered if you were a doctor when you treated Helen.”

  “In your terms,” Harry said, “my education qualifies me as a physician. Since the war, I’m cleared to serve in any medical or surgical role.”

  Laurel wanted to know more about the war—to her mind, she’d waited long enough, but he couldn’t go against orders, she understood that, though it was frustrating to be kept waiting. Instead, she found some common ground. “I was a trauma nurse,” she told him.

  Harry nodded. “Darlen gave us a very brief background history, that’s why I believe you’ll appreciate this.”

  A rectangular panel, white, shining and around the size and thickness of a sheet of paper uncurled as it completed its descent. With a signal from Harry, it lit with hundreds of points of light, positioning itself over Laurel’s scalp and bathing her head in a soft glow. It’s task there complete; it split itself into two halves, each half united by a central axle. Slowly, the panel trailed a path the length of Laurel’s body, an occasional puff of air blowing against areas of exposed skin, as it moved, there built up an almost-to-scale model in the space between her and Harry. The image was minutely dissected, and her projected body parts fitted neatly into thousands of divisions. Harry enjoyed her fascination.

  “This device is called a PAP,” he said. “Positional Anatomical Pandroscope. It provides a whole-body health evaluation, allowing me to see if there are any problems. I can study any organ, any muscle, any blood vessel in the body…see?” Harry highlighted her liver. It lifted out and rotated in the air right in front of her eyes. It looked perfectly normal to her, but a stream of data accompanied the image.

  “Is that bad?” she asked, squinting at phrases that made no sense; frustrations about the war momentarily forgotten as she marvelled at such technology.

  “No,” Harry smiled. “It’s a liver function readout. It tells me yours is recovering nicely after its journey here.”

  “Can I look at my brain?”

  Laurel’s liver shrunk back into its division, and her brain lifted out.

  “That’s amazing! Such detail!”

  “It is amazing,” Harry said, relishing her enthusiasm.

  “Is medicine still a challenge?” Laurel asked as her brain shrunk back into the facsimile.

  “Yes, absolutely,” he nodded vigorously. “It might be something you could consider later.”

  Laurel seized an opportunity. “I need to consider what’s happening now, Harry. Later can wait.”

  “We aren’t meant to be carrying on an exclusive conversation about the war, Laurel,” he said. “I’ll tell you what I can as we continue with the examination; provided no-one joins us.” Harry took a pointer and prodded at several areas of Laurel’s facsimile. When he spoke again, his voice was low, trying not to draw attention, and his demeanour one of a doctor discussing results with a patient.

  “I was conferred with the rank of commander because I trained in the Treaty Constabulary before becoming a physician. After my medical training, I was invited back to the Constabulary as a medical officer. I was happy to combine both of my careers. When the war came, most of the police became soldiers, even junior police officers, like Asde, who is my aide. The fact that I know your language, which my father taught me, placed me in the ideal position for this assignment.” Harry glanced around, but no-one paid them any attention. “My orders come from Canon Akkuh and up to now, I have never questioned him, but I disagree in keeping you waiting for the truth. I believe he should have told you everything at the outset, as soon as Helen recovered.”

  “It’s the word ‘slave’, Harry. It upsets Chloe and Helen.”

  “That’s the language of the Soul Monger; you’re not slaves.”

  “And his method, kidnapping basically, don’t forget that. He said you asked for us. No-one gave us a choice. Just taken and handed over.”

  Harry sighed. “An act deemed unforgivable and objectionable to the League has now become a potential solution to save many.”

  “And this war?”

  “A treaty planet,” Harry’s eyes narrowed, “Semevale 7, was occupied, virtually under our noses. We received little warning, and we didn’t even know where the occupying forces came from. A second planet, in the same system, came under threat soon after.”

  “Have you found out now where the invaders are from?”

  “The other side of the Miran Forin nebula.”

  Laurel gave him a blank look.

  “That’ll be explained, but for now, it’s all we have. We don’t even have a name for their race. The Semevalian’s are quarter-souls; gentle, spiritual people. They have little means of defence. From our observations, the enemy forces are half-souls. Ordinary humans can’t tell quarter and half-souls apart, which presents a difficulty as this enemy wears either stealth or the distinctive Semevalian costume, so we have no way of identifying who we are fighting.”

  Laurel saw no such difficulty. “My money would be on the ones shooting at me.”

  “Not that simple. Under stealth, we can’t see them, and those without stealth mingle with the Semevalians. In a combat situation, the enemy dresses as Semevalians and often uses Semevalians as shields or hostages.”

  “Those terms ‘half-souls’ and ‘quarter-souls’? Is there a biological distinction?”

  “No.”

  “So how do you figure out which is which?”

  “The distinctions have their roots in culture,” Harry said as he continued his examination. “Hazy roots to be sure. The artisans; the creative and spiritual civilisations, such as Semevalians are quarter-souls. They channel their energies into creativity, minimalism, community and are inward-seeking in search of unity and contentment. Half-souls in the past were hedonistic, violent, self-serving and generally without conscience. I’m glad to say that within the League at least, half-souls have evolved and now use that energy in organisation, selflessness, science, agriculture, space exploration and law and order.”

  “Then as I understand it, if you as a half-soul went to a place populated by quarter-souls, and you dressed like a local, another half-soul couldn’t tell you apart?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What if a half-soul and a quarter-soul had a child, how do you characterise such offspring?”

  “As a half-soul. My mother was a quarter-soul according to my father; therefore, I am a half-soul.” />
  “How do you know for sure if there are no tests to confirm?” Laurel felt these accepted, but not based-in-fact definitions were at best nebulous in that they fell outside scientific explanation.

  “I have the attributes of a half-soul,” he placed a hand on his chest, “an enlightened half-soul,” he added, grinning.

  “How do you define whole souls? I assume there is no biological standard for them either?” Laurel would have preferred to know about why she and the others were needed for the war, but this information could be equally relevant.

  “Whole souls have an extra set of ribs and two extra vertebrae to support them. There is also an enzymatic difference, but we believe that is due to the variations between the two universes.”

  “Extra ribs aren’t unheard of, I have extra ribs.” Laurel realised as soon as the words passed her lips she was adding weight to the theory of whole souls.

  Harry grinned again. “I know you do, and it’s unheard of in our universe except in whole souls.”

  “Okay, can you elaborate?”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, no. I’m not an expert on whole soul physiology—there are no experts now, but whole souls are recognised to be at the very least empathic, able to identify half and quarter-souls at a glance, and they can see through stealth; the League tested that on my father, so that’s accurate. Most whole souls are also telepathic, even though none can manipulate the thoughts of others. Being able to read the mind of our foes, identify them, see through stealth; you see how this would be an extraordinary resource? I should mention whole souls also possess enhanced speed.”

  Laurel glanced down at her body. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d run anywhere and doubted she was a typical example of a whole soul.