The Soul Monger

by Matilda Scotney

  “Is it possible the enemy developed technology to travel through the nebula and then booby-trapped it?” Marta asked.

  “Highly likely.” Harry’s response suggested that they had considered such an idea. “But we can’t identify whether they are operating a conduit, or if they augment their ships in such a way, they ameliorate the effects of the nebula. I can’t see that though; the ships are constructed of similar alloys to our own, but there is no consistency. The configuration of each ship is distinctly different, they have no insignia, and many appear to be cobbled-together, simple, modified trading vessels but equipped with deadly firepower; comparable to our own. Several exit portals, varying by only a few hundred incils—our measurement of distance in space—are used randomly, their ships are undetectable to us until they exit the inner layer, the so-called, ‘safe zone’ of the nebula. There are no reports of them having ever exited in other parts of League space, so we presume there is a limit to their technology.”

  “Harry,” Xavier had listened in silence until now. “I know you said you’ve been unable to communicate with them, but is it possible the enemy sought to open a dialogue, voice their grievance before they invaded?”

  “Never,” Harry answered firmly. “Their invasion of Semevale 7 was swift and thorough. The sole point on which we are confident is they’re not empathic, and they are aggressive, so we’ve concluded they are half-souls. We attempted to capture a squadron on Semevale 8, to interrogate them, but when they saw no escape, they killed themselves. The only enemy fighters we have ever examined were dead.”

  “Can you speculate on what their objectives are? If it’s not the ore?” Laurel noticed Xavier fix his gaze on Canon Akkuh.

  Harry shook his head. “Of course, we speculate, but no attempt has been made to extract the ore. The mines are idle, and the Semevalians are either imprisoned, dead or compelled to play host to the invaders. With Semevale 7 in enemy hands and it proving impossible to penetrate their defences, we’ve primarily turned our attention to protecting Semevale 8 and the borders of Semevale space. We’ve had some success in blocking their advances. At one point we received intelligence, leading us to believe that perhaps their strategy was to bring the League to its knees. But we don’t know why, so it’s all conjecture.”

  “Did you stockpile the ore?” Marta asked.

  “We did, but the evidence points to the ore not being the issue. Our foe is aggressive, possessing attributes the League abandoned long ago. Where our police were merely peacekeepers, they have now been forced to learn warfare, and sadly, how to kill.”

  “War makes people compromise their values,” Laurel pointed out. “You broke one of your laws to bring us here.”

  “We are a desperate people, Laurel,” Harry spread out his hands. “Our laws will mean little if the invader reaches its objective, whatever that is, but I can assure you, this enemy will not show mercy.”

  “Tell us what will happen when this war is won?” Xavier said.

  “Are you suggesting we’ll win this war?” Harry hoped Xavier was somehow sensing the outcome. But that wasn’t the basis of Xavier’s question.

  “No, I’m saying every war is both won and lost, depending on which side you are on. Some wars go on for so long; people forget why it started in the first place. But that’s not what I meant.”

  “We cannot be on the losing side,” Harry declared, adding emphasis by pumping his fist in time to his words. Then he stopped, realising what Xavier was really asking. A question he’d been dreading. “If we drive off the invaders,” Harry said, taking a moment to look at each of the whole souls. “If we defeat them, all we have to offer is that you’ll continue your lives here in the League. You will become citizens, have every opportunity to advance in your chosen careers. Everything we have to offer is yours for the asking. If we lose…” he said, looking down at his hands, not wanting to meet their eyes. “I doubt your fate will be any different to ours.”

  “Well,” Xavier twisted around to face the other whole souls in turn, lingering just a thoughtful moment longer on Chloe. “That clears that up. We’re never going back.” He returned his attention to Harry. “So now, Commander, as Laurel asked earlier, will you tell us precisely, what do you require from us?”

  “Put simply, each of you is a weapon,” Harry’s words came out quickly, rehearsed.

  “Ah, there it is,” Xavier said, nodding. He knew. Even without being told. But it needed saying nevertheless.

  “Stop right there,” Helen said in a loud voice. “I was just starting to believe all this,” she stood and gestured around her, “and now you say—just like that, ‘each of you is a weapon’.” She put her hands on her hips and glowered at Harry and Canon Akkuh, standing as tall as someone barely reaching five feet was able. “You’re out of your minds! I’m not what you think I am. I work in a hardware store—get it?”

  Laurel took Helen’s arm and tugged her back into her seat. “Let’s hear what they have to say, Helen. I know you’re upset but let them explain.”

  Helen sat, her outrage and confusion reaching right into Laurel. Canon Akkuh looked stricken at Helen’s unexpected outburst, as if he expected her to fall in another dead faint. But Harry took it calmly. So far, they’d remained accepting, patiently awaiting information about their future. That Helen was upset was justifiable. This debriefing should have taken place the day they arrived. He glanced at Canon Akkuh, who had taken a few steps further away from the group.

  “I understand, Helen,” Harry said. “I chose my words unwisely. What I mean is, you are empaths, the invaders are not. We,” he nodded to the Canon, to Asde on the fringe of the group, and placed a hand on his chest to include himself, “and our police are incapable of distinguishing a quarter-soul from a half-soul other than by their birthright. An empath ‘sees’ the difference; they can also read intentions.”

  “You identify yourselves as fractions of souls,” Laurel said, for her, this point needed more clarity. “We’ve been on this ship for two nights and met a few people. I can’t see any difference between them and us. As you stand there now, there are no detectable, ‘spiritual’, for want of another word, features. We need more.”

  The others murmured their agreement.

  “As you said,” Harry conceded, “just two nights, but from our understanding, it takes a few days for a whole soul’s capabilities to open. I can’t tell you how it happens, but I can tell you I struggled with my conscience about bringing you here. I went to my father, to ask if I was doing the right thing,” he paused, then as an afterthought added, “possibly even get his blessing. As a whole soul, he understood my hesitation. When I asked about the distinctions, he told me to imagine a field of exquisite flowers, each bloom biologically identical but each with its unique perfume. Two of the blooms in the field were noxious, with the potential to destroy the beauty of the entire field. These two blooms contained enough poison to devastate the entire field, but to the eye, they were not distinguishable from the other blooms. To science, their distinction was imperceptible. The only way was to see into the spirit of the flowers, identify which were the destroyers and pluck them out. He was referring to the enemy.”

  Harry’s father’s analogy made sense. Identify the enemy, point it out to those who cannot see, or if necessary, remove it yourself. His father hadn’t directly blessed Harry’s actions but accepted that eyes capable of looking beyond that which ordinary humans can see, were essential to this conflict.

  Laurel’s senses shifted. Half-soul? Quarter-soul? She took a moment to observe the others, paying close attention to Harry’s words. She felt no different to how she always felt and save for that moment when Xavier’s thoughts came into her mind, sensed nothing in the others to set them apart, make them different. Even so, she somehow knew they understood their role.

  “As these invaders are half-souls,” Harry continued, “they may know we can’t tell them apart. When they first infiltrate a prefecture or city, in the days before a full-scale off
ensive, they conceal themselves by wearing Semevalian traditional dress or using stealth technology. We developed similar technology for many of our ships but have not yet been able to refine what we have developed for use on individuals. The Semevalians tried to modify their dress, but it’s made little difference; the enemy adapts swiftly. So far, we’ve only been able to drive off the invader before they infiltrate; once they’re in place, if we strike, we can count on many Semevalians being among the dead, often from our own weapons.”

  “You said their ships don’t appear to have military manufacture or configuration,” Xavier said. “And you used the term, ‘cobbled together’. If your ships have this stealth, which I presume means invisibility, doesn’t this give you superiority in aerial combat?”

  “Their ships still have considerable firepower,” Harry said, “and we have to drop stealth to fire on them, so we become visible. Our disadvantage is we can’t predict when the invader will exit the nebula. It is our belief an empath will be able to anticipate when the invader is navigating the exit corridor.”

  “What do you base that belief on?” Xavier asked.

  “The reach of a whole soul cannot be defined. You can sense half and quarter-souls, and you can sense intent, still others, rarer whole souls, are fully telepathic. Others can sense technology that even our advanced systems cannot. I should say, much of our data on whole souls is historical and quite likely, anecdotal.”

  “I’ve never fought. I’ve never even seen a gun in real life,” Helen said checking out the others to see if they were in the same boat, although she judged Eli might have some experience.

  Harry fell into silence. Laurel knew he wanted them to say they’d help, agree to fight alongside the League.

  “Harry, we are willing to help,” Laurel said at last. No-one contradicted her, not even Eli. She heard Harry’s relieved intake of breath, but Canon Akkuh stood thoughtful, an unreadable expression on his pale face.

  “You’ll learn combat techniques,” Harry told them, grinning from ear to ear, his tone raised a couple of notches in excitement. “At least five of you will. Xavier, we hope you will remain on the frontier outpost as a sentinel.”

  Xavier dipped his head in acknowledgement; he didn’t even seem surprised. “One question though, Harry,” he made a quick jabbing motion with his finger. “You say we have to remain here after this conflict ends. Why is that?”

  “It’s not possible for whole souls to reenter the Transcender. Even the Soul Monger’s don’t have the capacity to return you.”

  “That’s a shame. I thought perhaps you might be able to return Chloe to her parents.”

  Harry’s excitement sank into a pool of puzzlement. “Parents?”

  “Yes, her mother and father and two brothers.”

  “I…I’m sorry, I didn’t realise they’d survived. Chloe?”

  “It’s okay, Harry,” Chloe said. “I didn’t tell them. I should have.” She lifted her chin then looked at the others. She seemed so much braver now, confident, and older than her sixteen years. “Darlen took me the second a car accident killed mum and dad and my brothers. There’s an implant here,” she reached under her ear, “to still the sadness. I’m the same as you,” she looked around. “I’ve got no-one. And same as you, I’m not going home, so I may as well fight a war.”

  Harry was horrified. He’d assumed being in such close proximity to each other, Chloe would have shared her circumstances. Xavier bowed his head; he hadn’t seen this coming. Chloe hid it well.

  “I’m so sorry,” Harry said, his confusion evident. “The Soul Monger told us you were alone in the world. We only found out about Chloe when she came to us for her physical check. We modified her grief response and did the same for Eli.”

  It seemed now was the moment for Eli to share secrets. They all turned to him.

  “I had a brother,” Eli murmured. “He got shot protecting me.”

  “Grief is natural, Harry,” Laurel said, concerned at this level of intervention in a natural process. “They need to grieve.”

  “No, I don’t, Laurel,” Chloe’s tone was abrupt, but she softened when she saw Laurel’s surprise. “Okay, yes, I understand, but I can do this, I can help. They told me the spindle breaks down in time, so the grief will have to wait until then, but—” she smiled sadly. “It doesn’t mean I don’t miss them.”

  “I’m trying,” Helen said with a shake of her head, “but I still don’t get the part about being telepathic or empathic or whatever. I can’t read minds. It doesn’t make sense. I suppose I can accept I’m in space, but I find everything else hard, even though you cured me of cancer.”

  Canon Akkuh stepped forward and stopped Harry responding. Harry bowed, relinquishing his position and Canon Akkuh approached Xavier.

  “Xavier,” he said. “You are the only person who admits to these abilities. Can you read the intentions of the people here?”

  Xavier stood and faced the Canon head on. Xavier’s stance was odd under the circumstances. Was he throwing down a gauntlet? Issuing a challenge? Nothing in Canon Akkuh’s physical attitude implied confrontation, and Xavier’s reply, when it finally came, seemed to Laurel, only half a truth.

  “I sense you hoped we wouldn’t refuse, that after coming this far, we would help you, and...” he paused, “I sense sincere regret.”

  Canon Akkuh stepped back instantly as if needing to place distance between him and Xavier. “Thank you, Xavier, I do regret it. But now you are here; we may find a way to stop the intruders.” He swung away towards the steps. “Now, forgive me, but I must leave you with Commander Harry.”

  Canon Akkuh removed himself abruptly from the gathering. The suddenness of his departure surprised Harry, with Asde hurrying to catch up with the Canon to escort him away. Xavier stared after the Canon until he was out of sight.

  Laurel waited until Xavier resumed his seat. “Harry, there’s only six of us. What are we against an army?”

  “We hoped for more, but six who can read intent is in itself an army.”

  “And I presume you have a full military force?” Marta asked.

  “Yes,” Harry replied, “but like I said, when the enemy first infiltrates a town, it’s impossible for us to distinguish them from the Semevalians, so we can’t start with weapons, we need intelligence. You will certainly be able to identify enemy in stealth. In an area under siege, they occupy the most prominent building in town, generally the Prefect’s residence, but they surround themselves with Semevalians while they’re at their most vulnerable. Our reluctance to engage them and endanger the Semevalians gives them confidence. In situations where the enemy has sent an advance column, we have secured the Prefecture and forced them back or killed them; a situation preferable to us than the loss of innocent Semevalian lives.”

  “Good people often die in wars,” Xavier said.

  “They do,” Harry acknowledged the older man’s wisdom, “but we can’t engage an enemy we can’t see. You will be our eyes. Now, I appreciate you still have questions, but it might be an appropriate time for you to return to your quarters and consider what we’ve outlined here.”

  “I’ve always considered myself a pacifist,” Marta said when they were back in their quarters. “School shoved the second world war down our throats as if we didn’t recognise the horror of it.”

  “What’s the alternative?” Laurel said. “We can’t go home. Besides, they seem hopeful of the outcome if we help.”

  “They cured my cancer,” Helen added. “I guess I owe them, even though I doubt I’ll be a good soldier.”

  “I will,” Chloe joined in, her face a picture of youthful spirit. “There’s not much else I can lose.” Chloe held her chin high, her eyes shining. If Laurel hadn’t known, she would never have believed this girl was so recently orphaned.

  “When did Darlen tell you about your parents?” she asked gently.

  “When I woke up on his ship. He wasn’t even mean or nasty.”

  “That’s why you were so up
set?”

  “He tried to carry me, but I wouldn’t let him, but then I couldn’t stand either. I fought him, and he was patient, but I carried on. I was frightened. He said I had to walk to get over, something or other in that plastic box we were in.”

  “Doesn’t sound like the same Darlen,” Helen said.

  Xavier agreed, “A man with secrets.”

  “He’s a pig,” Helen wrinkled up her nose as if his very name carried a bad smell.

  Eli’s voice meandered quietly into their conversation. “That window is called a Lantin in their language,” he mused from his favourite position on the couch. “It means viewport. And the word for the food dispenser is Vesanec, which translates to kitchen in English.”

  “How do you know?” Chloe left the group and sat on the couch opposite him.

  For a moment, Eli continued to gaze at the food dispenser, his eyes glazed and distant; then he shrugged, coming back to the present. “It just makes sense.”

  Watching the two of them, Chloe seeming so grown up and Eli uncharacteristically friendly, Laurel felt a tingling deep at the base of her skull. She waited as it spread upwards through her head, pricking at the very roots of her hair. Silence descended in the room. Chloe stopped her conversation with Eli to lift her head as if listening for a sound. Helen’s gaze shifted nervously between Laurel, Chloe and Marta. Then, it was gone. Laurel rubbed her temples. Marta did the same. Eli sat quietly. The women didn’t acknowledge what had taken place, and Xavier only smiled.

  Unnerved by the experience, Laurel wandered over to the newly-christened Vesanec; she drew coffee for everybody and herbal tea for Marta, who accepted the beaker with a smile.

  “I was thinking about herbal…”

  “Just a guess,” Laurel cut her off as she went to find her seat. She’d known Marta wanted herbal tea. And Marta knew Laurel knew.