Universe of the Soul

by Jennifer Mandelas

  Gray had been waiting for Carter to bring her up. “It was foul play, Carter.”

  “Yeah, being blown to ash by the enemy is pretty foul.” Carter agreed.

  “Even more so when it's your own captain who unnecessarily signs your death warrant.”

  The younger officer looked up sharply from his beverage. He no longer appeared bewildered. In fact, he looked just a little bit intimidating. “Are you implying that Heedman acted out of cowardice?”

  “Interpret it how you want.”

  Carter's eyes widened. “Are you trying to give yourself career suicide?”

  Gray quirked an eyebrow, “You doubt me?”

  His companion huffed a breath, “No. But that doesn't mean anyone else will. In fact, I know they will. They will believe Heedman over you, his word carries more weight. It's the way it works, so why kill yourself, er, proverbially?”

  “For justice.” Gray leaned forward, deliberately invading Carter's personal space. “Adri deserves justice for once. She never got it in life, so I'm going to give it to her in death.”

  Carter's eyes began to shimmer with a hint of respect and amusement. “And here I thought you were an placid sort of fellow.”

  “And here I thought you were a brainless rich boy who got his position from favors. Perceptions can be dangerous.”

  Now Carter smiled. “Right about that at least. It still doesn't change the facts. Your word against Heedman's, Heedman is going to win, every time.”

  Gray reached into his pocket and pulled out a data chip. “Even if I have proof?”

  “Hmm,” Carter leaned back, eying his companion with new interest. “What kind of proof?”

  “Unaltered recordings from the bridge monitor, the available readouts from the bomb squad who dealt with Adri in the warehouse. All the security reports and analyses of the enemy ship's approach and threat rating, as well as my communicator's recording of sequencing events.”

  “Does it prove anything?”

  “It proves that we had time to launch a rescue before the Belligerent Coalition's ship was in firing range, and that Heedman chose flight even over the advice of his senior staff who were present at the time.”

  Carter whistled. “Impressive.”

  “As security officer, I can finagle just about any data I deem attached to my area of concern. So, everything. Mostly to keep myself occupied.”

  There was a short pause. “I guess you'd need it.”

  “Is that enough to indict him?”

  Carter pondered a moment, staring into his mug as though his simulated coffee could give him answers. “The Galactic Commonwealth is run by a circle of highly sophisticated elite. While they manage to bump along and encourage the less affluent to serve their country, they will close ranks when one of their own is threatened. Albert Heedman is, unfortunately, one of their own. No one is going to welcome any accusations you dare to make.”

  “Are you speaking from personal experience?”

  “Personal observation,” Carter smiled a little. “I am one of them, remember?”

  Gray leaned back and glanced idly around the mess hall. The tables near the holo-stage were full, despite the late hour, and the bar and the end was still maxed to capacity as people socialized, relaxing after a day's work; arguing, gossiping, flirting. Life went on, but his had altered course. “What will make them listen?”

  Fiddling with his coffee, Carter spoke slowly. “The proof you've gathered counts heavily in your favor – but if you play it wrong, it could be argued as harassment.”

  “What?

  “Don't think Heedman's lawyer won't try every angle to make you look bad. It isn't just him you'll be taking on, but also the powers that be who put him in as captain. What you'll need is a person with some political clout like, say, myself, who can and will speak for your integrity. Not that I'm much in those circles. A flake, I'm afraid. You can't just waltz in and say, ‘hey, he killed my girlfriend, I want him to pay.’”

  “But I do. So how do we make it look like that's not my primary motive?”

  Carter leaned forward and spoke just above a whisper. “By creating reasonable doubt. It won't be enough to just present the evidence, you have to insinuate that Heedman not only did this, but could be quite capable of doing it again – to anyone. Lodge an official complaint, then don't do anything until you get back to Halieth. That will give them time to begin to think that it was their idea to dump Heedman when you come in person to present your evidence. We'll go from there.”

  Gray chuckled, sliding the data chip back into his pocket. “You actually have a plan, right?”

  “Hey, I'm wounded.” Carter grinned. “I may be a flake, but I'll get the job done – without either of us losing our jobs in the process.” He sobered. “Rael was one of my best friends. If Heedman tossed her life out like spare gear, I want to see him yanked down and groveling for his ostentatious life.”

  That night, after he had said good night to Carter and stared at a younger version of his Adri, after the hum of the ship's engines had faded in and out of his conscious, Gray fell asleep.

  And dreamed that he was wading through endless mist, searching, searching for something he'd lost.

  Something brilliant, almost too hard to see, approached him through the never ending twilight, enveloping him until he could see every star in the endless blanket of space, every shoot of grass that grew on his grandmother's plantation. Even his own emotions manifested into soft colors that dripped out of his eyes and vanished into the brilliant being surrounding him. He squinted, trying to make out a face in the light, but just when he thought he could recognize the features of someone familiar, the light winked out and the mist was filled with screams and the blood of hundreds.

  False face, false words, false purpose

  Everything and nothing is cause for suspicion – even my own actions. I feel fine, and I feel dead. Everyone looks at me with question and mistrust on their faces – Me, who knows nothing but that something SOMETHING some thing is wrong.

  I act normal, a front as false as everything else around here but I'm really hollow inside, less real than my own creations

  Even they have secrets now. I've lost the key somewhere, I'm unraveling

  I feel myself unraveling

  Did father feel this? Like being pulled upwards, yanked one vein at a time? Less and less, more and more until you're not anywhere? Is there some point where we just shatter into some nothingness the world calls madness? I wish to Danwe that I had quit – but I don't

  Is this how it starts I can see how this leads to the end

  Better to end it?

  No no no nonononononono

  A threat it's a threat where's Freya?

  Something happened to father something happened to father something happened

  Murder

  Why why the mind is tricky

  We've made them too well they're too much like us

  Knew too much, always too dangerous to know too much but what?

  My burden now. Must protect my own, even from

  Where does this lead?

  Truth or false, both will burn to death to death

  Chapter Eighteen

  Awareness came first. Before any of the senses awoke, she was aware that she was. It meant something important, but she couldn't decipher what. The next thing that manifested was feeling. She was lying on something cool and hard, but not uncomfortable. Her body felt hot, as if she had a fever. Air was breezing gently past her face; she could feel it on every portion of her body except for her right arm. She couldn't feel her arm at all. That fact should have bothered her, but she felt ambivalent. Oh well.

  Hearing was the second sense regained. At first all she could hear was a monotonous beep beep of something to her right. The cacophony of machinery didn't concern her, until she realized that there was a noise she wasn't hearing; the sound of the ship's engines. The droning hum was often forgotten until it was absent. Were there engine problems? Why hadn't she bee
n notified? She brooded about it for a while until she slid back into sleep.

  Scent was returned to her when she woke again, like a gift. She didn't know how long she'd slept, but wasn't worried. The air that was still brushing across her bore the sickly sweet odor of the infirmary; disinfectants, medicaments, and a whiff of death. Over it all was something else she didn't quite recognize. Incense?

  Where am I?

  The challenge of opening her eyes was a daunting one. It seemed as if she spent eons on the task, to no avail. Resting between each effort, she tried to connect with her eyes to open them, but such a simple task took on the proportions of a recon that had suddenly been ambushed.

  Bright. It was the indicator that she had succeeded. Too bright, so the cool darkness returned. She had succeeded once though, so she tried again. Squinting to minimize the effect on her eyes, she looked. And saw a dark stone vaulted ceiling, obscured by shadows that clung like cobwebs.

  Sound echoed towards her, but she found she couldn't move her head to see who it was or what it was. Straining her limited abilities, she waited. A figure appeared above her, partially obscuring the light and most of the dark ceiling. It took her a moment to focus. Human male, was her first impression. The second was that his pale eyes seemed to slide right through her, and were vaguely familiar.

  “Are you awake for good this time?”

  She felt around for her voice. “Where. Am I?” It came out scratchy and slurred, as though she hadn't used her voice in a long time. Perhaps she hadn't.

  “Safe. Alive, miraculously.”

  That seemed to be all the information she needed, for she could feel herself falling back into the gray twilight without permission. The man was still standing above her as she drifted away. “Welcome back, Veranda.”

  She frowned, or thought she did. “Not me. Not my name.”

  “It is now.”

  ***

  Freya woke from a dreamless sleep suddenly, like one does at the sound of an explosion outside one's home. It felt as though the vast sphere of energy that she had always felt connected to had exploded to twice its size in a manner of seconds. The air vibrated with unabsorbed power. There were voices whispering in the hallway beyond her chambers, punctuated by the pattering of feet. Excited voices, curious voices, skeptical voices. Freya rose quickly, donned a robe, and went out to join the others who were gathering close by.

  “Did you feel that?” one Talented asked her as she approached. Everyone was still in their nightclothes. Most were barefoot, their feet stepping lightly on the cool stone floor as they converged in the common space that connected most of the bedchambers. The moon shone bright through the windows along one wall, the breeze moving their clothing and hair in soft caresses.

  “I feel it now!” exclaimed another Talented, patting her heart. “Freya, do you think ada Sergei has amplified the energy in the temple for a gathering?”

  “Don't be silly, Darla,” the first woman said. “This is totally different from a normal amplification. Besides, he gave no forewarning, and all our amplifiers are right here. It's got to be something big. Something utterly Powerful.”

  “Do you think this might have something to do with the darkness all the precogs have been experiencing lately? Darla inquired. Her second set of eyes blinked rapidly, filtering the light given off by the moon. Her kievian tentacles twisted and snaked around her shoulders, revealing her excitement.

  “What do you think, Freya? You have some foresight,”

  “I honestly don't know,” Freya replied. The mention of foresight had her glancing around for Ayane. “Whatever it is, it's something big. This was not engineered by ada Sergei. He doesn't have this much power. None of us do.”

  “You want to know what I believe?” an older Talented spoke for the first time. The others gathered closer. Crya had lived in the convent longer than any of the others present, and as such was highly respected. “This energy burst is similar in essence to the smaller one we experienced about eleven years ago. Back then, many of us believed that an extremely powerful Talented had awoken; whom, we didn't know, and never discovered. But if we were correct then…”

  “Then this would signify the awakening of a powerful being,” Sarthane, the woman who had first spoken gasped. “Maybe even more powerful than a Talented!”

  “But who is greater than a Talented?” Darla demanded.

  Sarthane gave her a pitying look. “By Danwe, girl. Use your head for a moment. What's the highest category of Talented?”

  “Adept of course.” Darla replied, not comprehending. “Beings so powerful they could overwhelm any Talented. But we've been taught that all the Adept genes are extinct, and they were a phenomenon so rare that there were only three Adepts in a generation to begin with. They're just a myth, right? That's what all the elders say.”

  “We could be wrong,” Crya said as the crowd became agitated. “These two surges of energy may have nothing to do with awakenings. Then again,”

  “Our teachers may be wrong.”

  “Or,” a very young Talented piped up from the back of the crowd, her hair in little braids and her eyes dark with power. “They are teaching us wrong.”

  “That's nonsense,” another argued. “Why would they deliberately teach us an untruth?”

  Leaving the crowd to speculate and argue about the night's events, Freya went in search of her younger friend.

  The occupancy light was on by Ayane's door. Yet when Freya tapped the door to see if she was somehow still asleep, she noticed that the door was locked from the inside. She contemplated thoughtfully for a moment, debating whether or not she should disturb her friend when she may be sleeping, but a soft noise coming from the other side of the door caught her attention. Eavesdropping shamelessly, Freya pressed her ear to the door and heard the sound a little better. Crying.

  “Ayane?”

  No answer.

  “Ayane, it's Freya, are you all right?”

  Still no answer. Concerned now, Freya reached out with one of her limited abilities, empathy. Almost at once she could feel distress radiating through the door, a sickening mixture of pain, fear, and… knowing?

  “Are you feeling well? Ayane, answer me!”

  When she once again got no reply, Freya placed a hand on the old-fashioned lock mechanism. Her telekinetic abilities were as weak as the rest of her gifts, but constant practice and visualization allowed her a stronger use for what she had. Closing her eyes, she pictured the inside of the lock. Once the image was stable in her mind, she gathered the traces of energy in the atmosphere around her until she had combined enough to push the gears and pins to their unlocked positions. It would have normally taken her several minutes, but the increase in the energy that had woken the inhabitants of the convent boosted her abilities. It amplified them a little too much, she realized when the lock exploded and the door burst open as if assaulted by a hurricane.

  “Ayane?” wincing a little, Freya entered the room. It was dark, but the light from the hallway slipped in around her and partially illuminated the little space. She was quick to find her friend, curled up on the bed shivering and whimpering softly. “What's wrong?”

  “She has awakened,” Ayane stammered, curling into Freya as her friend pulled her into her arms. “She is here with us. Cerebitha – the great twisted is threatened. The change is upon us, the pieces moving.”

  “Who? Who has awakened?” Ayane's fear seeped into Freya like ice water.

  Ayane's eyes were opaque, and filled with pain.

  “Ayane, sorja, listen to me. Who has awakened?”

  “Veranda. Veranda has awoken. Now it will burn. Everything will burn!”

  ***

  Adri's arm screamed as though it had been plunged into molten lava to the shoulder. With an agonized cry, she reached over with her left hand and grasped her right shoulder in an effort to ease the pain. Her bare skin felt hot to the touch, but after a few mind-numbing seconds, the pain eased down from vomiting-level to merely horrible.
It wasn't until then that Adri felt the strength to open her eyes.

  There was a moment's panic when she didn't recognize where she was. The room was dim, made of some brown stone with a vaulted ceiling that was lost in the shadows. Machinery that looked several centuries newer than the room cluttered the area, items that Adri recognized as belonging to a medical facility. She was lying on some sort of bed, and with a fresh surge of panic, she realized that under the blanket, she was naked. The only thing on her was her mother's pendant, which certainly wasn't covering anything.

  Danwe, where am I?

  The sound of approaching footsteps pushed her into action. Adri tried to sit up, but she was too weak. Instead, she rolled herself off the bed, collapsing on the floor in a tangled heap with the blanket wrapped around her like a burial shroud. Moaning a little, she waited for the room to stop spinning before forcing her weight to her feet. Using her left shoulder as her anchor, she leaned against the bed and rose, clutching the blanket with her good hand.

  The footsteps were getting closer. Sucking in a breath to focus, Adri looked around for anything she could use as a weapon. There was a tray of medical instruments on the other side of the bed. Staggering like a drunk, she made her way around to it. Grasping a tool that looked vaguely like a giant fork, she used all her momentum to run across the room, collapsing against the wall by the door. Miraculously managing to stay upright, she stuck the fork between her teeth, knotted the blanket so it would stay around her shoulder, and retrieved her pitiful weapon.

  Despite the pain radiating through her useless right arm and the spinning room, she was hyperaware of the footsteps stopping outside the door. Taking another ragged breath, she gripped the fork tightly and waited, her fighting elegy humming. She heard the soft beep of the lock disengaging, and the rush of air as the door slid opened and disappeared into the wall. She waited one second for the newcomer to step through the doorway before striking.