The Soul Monger

by Matilda Scotney

  Minutes later, four craft exited the portal. Instead of engaging widespeed as expected, the largest ship sheared away from the formation and headed towards them. The other ships held position and waited. The larger vessel stopped directly forward as if sizing them up and Laurel was certain the occupants could see them.

  “If they know we’re here, why aren’t they firing?” Laurel murmured.

  “They can’t be sure we are here,” Harry answered, his voice low as though he feared being overheard. “Their ships can’t detect stealth. Most of the junk they fly wouldn’t have the capability, but this one might; it doesn’t look like a modified trading vessel. Eli? Are there any signs they’re conducting a sensor sweep?”

  Eli shook his head, “No, Commander.”

  “Why are they risking a confrontation with us?” Harry watched as the enemy ship held position a distance from the port bow.

  “If we fire, the other ships will soon join them, it wouldn’t be an even contest,” but Eli’s hand stayed above the weapons sequencer—at the ready—if Harry issued the command.

  “I don’t understand why there was no weapon spread as they exited,” Harry’s face creased up in puzzlement. “That’s something new.”

  The ship began to circle them, prowling their perimeter like a big cat, eyeing its prey. Then, the vessel banked, rounded and sped off to rejoin its comrades.

  “That was close,” Xavier breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Too close,” Laurel said. “I counted 14 half-souls.”

  “I’d say they use that weapon spread to stop you firing into the nebula and risk damaging the creature,” Xavier speculated before returning to his deliberations, but Harry stopped Eli from returning to their previous position.

  “Do you ever chase them?” Laurel said. “Engage them?”

  “Of course,” Harry answered stiffly, surprised she needed to ask such a question. “Do I need to remind you, Laurel, they use several portals? We can’t man every single exit. The more of the fleet deployed here to get caught in their weapons spread, the less are protecting the border and Semevale 8. If we know they’re coming, we can prevent them from getting too close.”

  “How then will Xavier be able to tell which exit they’re using?”

  “I won’t,” Xavier admitted. “But today’s experience taught me they have a single corridor that diverges at the terminal end. I’ll try to identify a pattern. Otherwise, there’s no way I can inform the League in time which exit they’re using. It’s a sensible strategy for the League to deploy their troops further back, and not waste time trying to catch a mouse while still holding the mousetrap.”

  The encounter rattled Harry. Not because he feared a confrontation, but because the enemy hadn’t fired weapons upon exiting, which was their usual practice, and that they’d broken formation to investigate a stealthed ship. Laurel felt his puzzlement. And of course, Laurel realised it made sense to not waste resources by hanging around waiting to chase the enemy up and down the nebula, but she still had reservations about the League’s ability to fight, and win.

  “I couldn’t count the half-souls,” Eli said. “But that ship knew for sure we’re alone out here. They didn’t need a sensor sweep.”

  Xavier nodded. “Eli’s right. They must have discovered a means of detecting us.”

  “It looks that way, Xavier,” Harry looked back at the nebula as they angled towards the asteroid field. “I’ll make any data on the portals available to you. The life form might be native to the nebula, certainly immune to the effects. I wonder what methods they used to enforce its cooperation?”

  “I don’t know much about prisons in your universe, Commander,” Eli said, “and I can’t get a feel for the alien, but through there—” he jerked a thumb towards the nebula, “they got all sorts of things going on. That prison they’ve set up? Made of simple jugular relays, at least as far as my perception reaches. The fields generated by those relays might be what keeps the creature on the move.”

  “Jugular relays?” Harry’s face twisted in confusion, “Jugular relays?” he said again. “We use them ourselves; simple technology. You’ve seen the looms we use for lighting and power on the asteroid, Laurel?” he said, seeing she didn’t understand. “Those are jugular relays; if we need the relays on a larger scale, say for a city or even a continent, we use emissions beacons, but how did the enemy disperse them in such a hostile environment?” Harry tapped his lips in thought and took in a deep breath, thinking aloud. “They must be using transmitters of some description to link the relays. Even so, how do the relays control the lifeform?” He studied the nebula on the starchart and ran his hands through his spiky hair. “I can only speculate the nebula is narrower at this point and the enemy have devised a method of installing them remotely. This is altogether unexpected,” he blew out his breath in a low whistle. “How many times have we returned fire as their ships left the nebula? We could have killed the creature.”

  “That would put an end to the invasion.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel better, Eli, and they may have more than one. Can you tell us anything about the lifeform, Xavier?”

  “Not really,” Xavier shook his head. “I’ve got nothing to compare it with. In size, it’s immense, and stops short of entering the exitways. I thought the nebula was hostile all through, but they seem to have found a way.”

  “You can enter the margin, for roughly 600,000 kilometres,” Harry nodded to Eli, acknowledging that he felt their presence at that mark. “It’s impossible to go any further.”

  “I could work out the proportions of the creature back at the base,” Xavier offered. “Aside from its size, it’s round, flat, and out here, I suppose the closest image would be the consular ship, but bigger.”

  “Are you able to connect with the lifeform, Xavier, open a dialogue?”

  “I already did.”

  “What did it say?”

  “It didn’t speak, Harry. It doesn’t use words; it uses emotion. It sensed our concern, and in response, gave me an understanding of its misery and suffering and desire for freedom.”

  “Can we do something to free it?”

  “Not from here.”

  “Why does it let them through?”

  “Harry,” Xavier put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It’s a slave.”

  Harry took a second to digest Xavier’s words. The lifeforce was under duress, coerced, like all slaves in the past. Harry was reminded of an earlier discussion he’d had with Laurel, that the enemy might have whole souls. She was in his head right now, he knew it, and he pointed at her to see if she remembered. “And it’s telepathic?” he said. “A non-human whole soul?”

  Laurel did remember, but the burgeoning sense to her was; this wasn’t a whole soul.

  “The lifeform’s restrained, caged,” Xavier held up his hands, joining his fingertips and pushing them together. “It moves within the nebula to where the galaxy continues on the other side,” he pointed to the star chart. “Harry—to you—the nebula appears infinite, impenetrable. I can tell you, even as a stranger to your universe, it isn’t. And I didn’t sense their ships until almost too late. Eli was sharper than me. I might not be the right person to monitor their movements.”

  Harry didn’t agree. “You knew the lifeform was here. That makes you entirely the right person. I need you to study it, find a way to get it to help us or resist them. Did you get a sense of the lifeform from the asteroid?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t understand. I do now.”

  “Good, we’re leaving for the 100 moons in two days, do your best. This is a hell of a situation.” Harry seesawed between gratitude for knowing the truth, and concern for how the war might play out in light of the presence of this lifeform. “I must tell the Canon and Congress an alien lifeform is being exploited by the enemy to transport them across the nebula. And add; by the way, one of the ships detected us. I don’t know which revelation is going to shake them more.”

  Harry stopped by to check
on their last session with Cere. Not one to gush, Cere gave him a factual rundown of their progress, combining it with restrained praise. Helen was still getting the run around from droids and holoenemies, but Laurel was pleased to have seen substantial improvement. She asked Harry how Congress reacted to the lifeform.

  “Laurel, they were on visual,” he groaned. “I delivered the news, and they stared at me in total silence as if I’d gone mad, then asked me if Xavier was certain.”

  “They didn’t believe you?”

  “They do, but it came as a shock. None of our studies at the portal has revealed either jugular relays or life. A team of exobiologists will be arriving to work with Xavier; he’s made a simulated impression of the lifeform. Eli overlaid it with the jugular relay network, but he sensed it was incomplete, he couldn’t get far enough in. The field configurations and positioning are very standard, but with a beacon; supposedly to transmit to each relay across how many incils they need to span the nebula. It might be reasonable to assume they’re the same throughout the whole corridor.” Harry tapped his lips in concentration, “I can’t see how this information will benefit us until we find a way into the nebula. We must hope the lifeform will cooperate. Meanwhile, we are ordered to turn our attention to the situation on Semevale 8.”

  “How many of us on these 100 moons?” Marta asked.

  “Four ground squadrons and two aerial. The rest are deployed in garrisons on Semevale 8 and in the fleet around the system.”

  Helen gave him a dry smile, “Sounds as if the enemy is scattering your resources.”

  Harry sighed. He agreed. “It does seem like that, Helen.”

  With part of the fleet deployed at the borders and garrisons, with no chance of reinforcements, Laurel had a hard time seeing how they could ever defeat this enemy. Perhaps…

  “Is it possible to send Darlen back to Earth to bring more whole souls?”

  “Laurel!” Helen’s expression was one of horror.

  “Well, it’s an option, Helen. Look at us—our abilities have developed, we’ve settled in, speak the language, and we aren’t even homesick.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Helen muttered.

  “It would take too long,” Harry stopped them. “The League struggled with its conscience before sending Darlen. Then we had to wait for his return. We could be overwhelmed by then. The Congress is going to consider a means to neutralise the lifeform without damaging it, but I suspect Canon Akkuh won’t waste too much time on a preservation plan. He’ll seek to destroy it, strand the enemy troops already here, and then we get involved in a mopping up operation.”

  “I’ve said it before Harry. You need more troops.”

  “We’ll have enough, Laurel,” Harry said with more conviction than he felt. “As long as we can contain the enemy.”

  Chapter 20

  The departure to 100 moons meant the whole souls would soon be without the senior member of their little group. Xavier was upbeat about staying behind, assuring them he relished the adventure and it would be them on the front line, while he remained in comparative safety and comfort. Coupled with their sadness at leaving Xavier, came the realisation that in a matter of days, they would be so much closer to the unpredictability and menace of war. They each tried to avoid becoming maudlin on their last evening together and made noble attempts to be cheerful while not actually feeling it. Helen’s emotions, nearer the surface than the others, finally got the better of her. She excused herself, retreating to the slot to take a shower. After a few moments, the sense that all was not well came to the women. Chloe and Marta looked up sharply at Laurel, who called out, “Are you okay, Helen?”

  Helen appeared at the slot door, her face streaked with tears. “No, I’m bloody well not!” She sat on her couch, sniffing and wiping her eyes. “I can’t do this,” she choked, as Marta knelt beside her. “I can’t fight. I’m hopeless. Cere hates me, and I don’t want to leave Xavier,” she sobbed, holding Marta’s hand.

  “Cere doesn’t hate you,” Laurel joined Marta beside Helen. “What makes you think that?”

  “She put that doll thing in the gym on baby settings even when I showed I could do better.”

  Laurel bit back a grin. The android managed to knock Helen down and keep her down; luck rather than judgement advanced her a few levels.

  “And the holoenemies,” Helen gulped, “I got good at that. Didn’t I?”

  Marta and Laurel both tried to soothe her that yes, she did get pretty good, but it didn’t stop the tears.

  “And I’m as fit as the rest of you, aren’t I?” Helen was inconsolable, tears and snot mingling to run over Marta’s hand.

  “Is this about leaving Xavier, Helen? Or the telepathy thing?”

  Helen looked up at Laurel, her mouth quivering, her face wet. “Not just that.” Helen turned to Xavier, “I do love you Xavier, and I can’t bear the thought of leaving you, but…”

  “What then?” Laurel could have peered into Helen’s generally cluttered mind, but it was possibly better Helen explained verbally.

  “I hate these uniforms,” Helen wailed. “Look at this; I’ve got no tits!”

  She plucked at her singlet, the one she wore in training. Designed to stop movement during strenuous activity, the vests sported an inbuilt ledge to support the bosom from underneath, with a horizontal panel that held the breasts firmly in place. Helen’s singlet, tailored to her vital statistics, was minus the ledge, and her rather minimal breasts flattened against her chest. Not even an outline of a nipple showed through.

  “You and Marta have proper boobs,” Helen moaned, “you look great in uniform, but I look like a kid. I’m as flat chested as Chloe!” Chloe pulled a face at her. “Sorry Chloe, I didn’t mean anything. I just think they could pad it out a bit.”

  Marta sat back on her heels, extracting her hand from Helen’s and wiping the excess of body fluids against Helen’s leg.

  “Helen, we are now part of a war, preparing to enter a battle for which you, as you know, are the least prepared…” Marta swept a hand the length of Helen’s body, her voice showing just a hint of impatience, “and you’re worried about your appearance?”

  Helen sniffed a few times and wiped her eyes. Then she shrugged.

  Marta got to her feet and shook her head. She didn’t want to upset Helen further, but “come on”, she flicked a hand as she fired a thought to Laurel. “Priorities!”

  Of course, she was right, Helen’s priorities were wrong, but watching the tears roll down Helen’s face, Laurel had to believe the underwear issue was merely a catalyst for Helen’s true feelings. Perhaps she should go in and look…

  She didn’t, but a moment later wished she had. Helen stood abruptly and before anyone could stop her, opened a communications link to Issie, saying they needed her, “right now!”

  “Helen, that’s for emergencies,” Laurel tried to stop the link, but it was too late. Unrepentant and defiant, Helen sat with arms and legs crossed in silence as they waited for Issie to arrive.

  Marta’s anger simmered; she liked Helen but didn’t understand her. Unencumbered all her life by the trappings of vanity, Marta’s purpose now was the one laid before her, to assist the League, honour her commitment to them and do her duty with precision and focus. Her last thoughts before the door alert sounded came to Laurel and Chloe loud and clear, and brought a smile to each of them. “Jesus Christ, she can’t keep up, and she’s bothered about her breasts!”

  It wasn’t Issie. It was Asde, out of uniform and looking as if he’d dressed in a hurry after being disturbed from some much-needed sleep. But he still managed his smile, and Chloe was happy to see him, not having spent much time with him, owing to their demanding schedules.

  “Where’s Issie?” Helen met him at the door and peered around him to see if he’d brought the “sergeant-major”.

  “She’s off-duty. I’m on call.”

  Helen studied him for a moment and said, “Oh well,” and launched into her grievances about the design
of the uniforms. Asde listened attentively to her ranting, standing with his legs apart, arms behind his back, nodding, even though he didn’t quite follow the issue, but realising it was of consequence to her. Helen was so fired up, her Seera ended up punctuated with English, causing Asde’s eyelids to flicker with concentration as he translated unknown words to himself. Recognising he wasn’t getting it, Helen waved her spare singlet in his face, pointing out the non-existent ledge, and seeking to explain to him how it could be enhanced. Before Laurel could take a step back, Helen reached over, and shoved Laurel’s breasts up, exposing the singlets ledge below. Laurel slapped Helen’s hands away, and Eli and Xavier put their heads closer together, pretending deep conversation, not wishing to get involved in something that would most likely draw a growling from Helen.

  “Ah!” Asde balled up his fists and thrust them up his shirtfront against his rib cage, then pushed them forward. He nodded sagely.

  “At last!” Helen rolled her eyes and flopped in a chair.

  “If this was something you desired,” he said, pleased he’d figured it out, “you should have advised Commander Harry. This augmentation is possible using the technology on Mentelci but can also be done on the consular ships. I’m afraid we don’t have the facilities here, you will have to wait until after the war.”

  He hadn’t got it. Helen sat in stunned silence. Asde’s comical misreading of the situation came from a cultural lack of knowledge of the importance of breast size, and it bewildered him as to why this was an emergency.

  “If that’s all? I suggest you get some sleep,” he smiled, but as always, his most special was reserved for Chloe.

  “He thinks I want breast implants,” Helen groaned after he left.

  “Helen,” Marta was still incredulous at the game of charades she’d just witnessed. “Have you always been so vain?”

  “I’m not vain, Marta. I always had inserts for my bra, and anyway, I take care of myself, I like to look my best, and I like a touch of glamour. Look at my nails, how boring are they?” Helen held up her hands; her nails were trimmed to the level Issie insisted upon. “I go to the beauty salon every week—like religiously. I get my hair washed, my nails, a pedicure; the works, every Saturday morning. If I didn’t turn up for an appointment, Merryl, the beautician, would send the police to my flat thinking I was dead!”