A Division of Souls - A Novel of the Mendaihu Universe

by Jon Chaisson

  *

  Poe strolled into the office minutes later, a data crystal twirling between fingers and an apology written on his face. “I'm sorry, Caren,” he said quietly. “I shouldn't have said that.”

  Caren waved the apology off. “Don’t worry about it. I should be used to it by now. Besides, Kindeiya started it, not you.” She nodded at the crystal. “What did you get from Peter?”

  A relieved smile crossed his face. “Nehalé is DuaLife’s top Re-Gen therapist...”

  “So says Kindeiya,” she said. “He couldn’t say enough good words about him.”

  He held up the crystal between them. “I've got all his vitals on here, stuff we already have. An up-to-date holo, his address, tax forms, finances, likes and dislikes, favorite food...”

  “Wonderful. Give me his blood type and we’ll have ourselves a damned fan club.”

  Poe smirked at her. “That’s not far from the truth. Peter gave us a listing of associates he has, Mendaihu and otherwise. I put hyperlinks on those names to the database upstairs, just in case.” Caren watched him grin madly as he crossed the room to the terminal flanking the far wall.

  Caren crossed her arms. “So? What does that tell us?”

  “Patience, my friend,” he said with a wave of a hand. His fingers worked deftly at the keypad, calling up the data from the crystal. An absurdly long list of document files began scrolling down the screen, which he began sifting through, opening up the ones he’d flagged earlier. It took more than a few minutes to bring up everything. Could all this information be connected to Nehalé? Caren doubted it…a lot of it had to be tangential. No one had files on them this big that weren’t locked up at the Intelligence Bureau.

  Caren cleared her throat. “Patience is the one thing I don't have today, Poe. Is there a point in the near future?”

  “Er...yeah. Hang on.” A few more keystrokes opened up a file marked ‘Mendaihu’ and he was done. “Check out this list,” he said, tapping the screen. “It might interest you. You'll never guess who's on here.”

  She walked up behind him, and leaned over to take a look. Hendiri, Usara, Shalei, Akandarra…Mirades, Kaalen, Dhumélis, Nisiriandis...the surnames were all common clan names, nothing surprising. The given names that matched them were not familiar in the least...until she came near to the end of that first page.

  Anando Shalei.

  Caren felt a shiver of unexpected giddiness. Anando...! “Hold on a second,” she said, sounding a little more excited than she'd wanted, but curiosity had gotten the best of her. “Who's that? Back up a page. Last column, third from last.”

  Poe scrolled back and followed her finger. “Who...this guy?” He highlighted the name, a quarter-screen size image popping up on the right side of the screen. It dawned on her just then that she had no visual image of Anando, only his voice. She had no idea what he looked like. But that voice…professional as she was, something about that voice had stirred something within her.

  She stared at the screen. Anando was handsome but not striking, a Meraladian of average build. He wore closely cropped blonde-brown hair in the spiky nonconformist style of the McCleever gangs, though he wore no piercings, tattoos or enhancements. He lived in Poe's corner of the McCleever District, on the main strip of McCleever Street itself, near the DuaLife main facility where he interned. Deep in the heart of the worst part of Bridgetown.

  Caren shivered. This could be the Anando she'd dreamed of.

  Anando. I've found you. And then, belatedly: Why are you on this list? Who are you to Nehalé Usarai?

  “Uh...yeah. That guy,” she said, not without embarrassment. “Sorry. Just a Mendaihu hunch, I suppose. I’ll get back to you on that.”

  Poe shot her a sideways glance. “Don't tell me I've got more people to look up,” he said. “Besides, he's not the one I'm looking for. The one you have to see is...well, it’s around here somewhere.” He continued scrolling down the list. He began to say something, stopped, and pointed to a name. “There. Kindeiya Shalei.”

  “So? He’s Nehalé’s boss, of course he’d be there.”

  “Yes…but this list? I purposely avoided grabbing work associates or patients unless there was a viable reason. More to the point, I specifically narrowed the search to only include connections to the Mendaihu — any events, actions, rituals, meetings. Something where he’d go out of his way to meet with one of them, or perform something for them. Suffice it to say, he’s been quite the busybody over the last year or so, and Kindeiya Shalei has been there by his side through a good portion of it.”

  Caren frowned deeply. “We’re being left in the dark, Poe. Any other coincidences happen today that I should know about?”

  “Not that I know of,” he muttered, looking at her with concern.

  Finding Kindeiya on the list had actually been less than surprising, being Nehalé's boss. His inclusion only made matters more complicated, however, now that she knew both men to be Mendaihu. There had to be a specific reason for him to be on it. Most associate lists on files usually stretched to about two dozen at most. Nehalé's list was nearing a few hundred.

  “How does he know all these Mendaihu, Poe? I know they have empathic memory of everyone they meet, but this is a bit much. Peter’s not that meticulous in his data retrieval. You sure these aren’t complete strangers that once gave him directions eight years ago?”

  “No…these are all current,” he said, studying the screen. “The guy gets around, apparently. It’s like you said, it’s as if he's like a local god in the Waterfront Sector. Most of the Mendaihu on this list are from that district. He helps them back on their feet again. Trains them to become honest citizens. He's the ultimate Samaritan down there.”

  Caren frowned. “Samaritan?” she said. “The ARU…hell, the BMPD would have noticed him down there right away. He sounds more like a shepherd —”

  A shepherd. Her hands clenched at her side and she winced. “No,” she said.

  Poe turned to her. “No? No what?”

  Pashyo! She pushed herself away from his chair and began to pace the room. She furrowed her brows; nervous hands moved in separate directions, as if alternately looking for something to hold and expressing something she couldn’t find the words for. The chill returned again, stopping her in the middle of the room with a shiver. Somehow everything about this case began to fall into place with disturbing clarity…the Awakening Ritual, Nehalé Usarai, the shockwave…even her own odd behavior at that moment.

  Have I? She called out to her parents, though dreading an answer. That night. Have I awakened? Am I Mendaihu after all?

  “No what, Caren?” Poe demanded. “What —”

  “That's not the motive, Poe,” she cut in. “He's not trying to become a Samaritan in any way down there, especially for numbers that large. That's not the Mendaihu way. They don't go looking for a savior when they've got The One of All Sacred. No, he's...he's...” Just as quickly, she stuttered to a halt as words eluded her. He's leading them...? No, not leading...

  Awakening. And I got caught up in it.

  He swiveled around in the chair. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “He's gathering them, Poe. Don't you see that?” She whirled at him, waving hands at him. He flinched and pushed back in his chair. Suddenly self-conscious of her movements, she backed up to the opposite wall and shoved her hands into pockets. Her mouth was dry and she couldn’t stop the nervous shaking. “He's gathering the flock. Think about it, Poe. He's got all these Mendaihu listed, mostly from the Waterfront. One of the poorest neighborhoods in the Sprawl. Don't tell me you're not seeing the religious imagery here.”

  Poe arched an eyebrow at her. “Well, from you I am.”

  “Fair enough. But that’s what’s going on, I’m sure of it. He's raising a Mendaihu army of some kind. He knows the Shenaihu are going to respond to his ritual, and it's just a matter of when.
The answer’s been staring us in the face, Poe…and we’ve been too damned afraid to face it.”

  Poe let that sink in for a few seconds. He stood up and began pacing himself, but stopped after five steps, standing in front of her. Goddess knew what he was thinking of her right now. Time for a vacation, she mused. Caren, you've been poisoned by the job. Get out while you can.

  “Why haven't you been affected?” he asked, his voice quiet.

  Caren looked him in the eyes. “I’m sure I already have.”

  “And Denni…?”

  She couldn’t respond, but she didn’t have to. Poe already knew.

  The piercing buzz of the hailing interoffice vidmat interrupted the uncomfortable silence and closeness between them. The screen behind Poe blinked to life, the image of Cilla from Dispatch partially blocked by Poe's body. He didn't move or turn around.

  “Uh...hey,” Cilla said, realizing she'd interrupted something. “Just called to tell you that Nick and Sheila took a call for a disturbance at St. Patrick’s on Ormand, but they said they'd be back as soon as it was taken care of.”

  Caren felt the chill race up the back of her neck. She poked her head around Poe's shoulder and managed a weak smile. “Thanks, Cilla. Let me know when they come in.”

  Yes, she thought. Falling together way too easily.

  The dispatch officer took that as a sign to leave them alone, nodded an apology and disconnected.

  Poe smiled wanly. “Huh. St. Patrick's. Let's hope that Father Miriam's okay.”

  Father Miriam — another flash of memory. The hazy memory of Matthew Davison's voice the morning after the Awakening Ritual: Go talk to Reverend Miriam if you need a spiritual explanation. Caren closed her eyes and leaned her head up against the wall. “Poe, I...” She trailed off. She felt a shift in her equilibrium, a slight dizziness. Not enough to faint, but just enough to catch her off balance. She’d felt this before, years ago…back when her latent Mendaihu blood had begun to flow within her body. She knew this feeling intimately, and it scared the hell out of her. This was reality seeing, a rare Mendaihu trait where her brain went into overdrive, processing every speck of information given to her and coming up with all possible outcomes at once. She’d only felt this once, years ago when it had manifested itself in her teens. Her parents had taught her how to keep it under control, but now it was too late. She couldn’t hold this back any more. The slow whirling in her head suddenly took on momentum, and then it was too late to try to calm it.

  There was no question now. She herself had been awakened.

  Father Miriam...Damn it! No! She squeezed her eyes shut. Stop thinking so damn much! But again, she could not stop once she had started--

  Father Miriam...Elder Myras Usara. A Terran English alias.

  A locked-away childhood memory blasted itself painfully into the forefront.

  Twenty-five years ago. An image of a Priest of the One of All Sacred blessing the Mendaihu at St. Patrick's Cathedral before a battle. Men and women, Meraladian and Gharné alike, filling the church. She remembered being there, a young kid just turning ten, but she remembered clearly. We’re so proud of you, Karinna… Her parents, flanking her, both looking down over their shoulders, warm smiles on their faces. Her mother’s arm draped over her shoulder, hand resting slightly against her neck. Father’s hand touching the middle of her back. The priest’s voice reverberating throughout the hall, yet muted enough to soothe the fear. The unsettled shuffles and coughs of agitated parishioners seeking, hoping for answers.

  I remember…!

  Mendaihu Gharra. Protector of Earth.

  Peace, Love and Light to you all.

  The feel of fear, the dread, the hopelessness…and somewhere, underneath it all, barely alive and screaming to break free…

  Faith.

  Caren gasped, eyes wide. “Shit!” she blurted a little too loudly, sending Poe back a few steps. Her legs felt weak, threatening to fall out from under her. Things were flooding back to her…too many memories, too much information she didn’t want. Too many things she’d tried hard to forget over the years. It all came back… She made it to her desk, dropping hard into the chair. The spinning in her head was unceasing. She felt drunk; she felt weak and sick. Yet despite the numbing of her senses, she knew she was wide awake, and completely aware of everything.

  All is Light.

  “One of All Sacred help them,” she whispered.

  Poe knelt down before her, grasping her shaking hands. “Caren?”

  She managed to look him in the eyes again. “Poe...” Closed her eyes, cursed herself. One of All Sacred help us… “I think your theory might be right.”