Universe of the Soul

by Jennifer Mandelas

  “Do all creatures?”

  Gray hesitated. He could see where this conversation was heading, and so answered carefully. “Not all. The tsabetians value equality and unity to such an extreme that none of them have their own names, and the success or failure of one is echoed though the whole species. Their greatest desire is to not be remembered as an individual. But they are an extreme. All humanoids want to be remembered.”

  “And humacoms?”

  Gray smiled a little. “You have a name, don't you? You act out in ways beyond your necessary duties. I'd say you want to be remembered.”

  Jericho opened his mouth to reply when Gray's communicator squawked. [Engineering to Lieutenant Grayson,]

  Gray brushed his earpiece. [Grayson here,]

  [We have a situation down here. Could you send someone down?]

  [I'm coming myself. Grayson out.] Gray looked over at Jericho. “We're in luck. Something to do.”

  The situation turned out to be a small riot between a group of “day” shift engineers and a group of the newly arrived “night” shift engineers. True to the strange code that Gray knew all engineers abided by, they were fighting over the welfare of their beloved engine. He had no idea what they were arguing about, or who started it, but was obvious that the fight had to stop before it got out of hand. The two hulking factions were having their physical disagreement dangerously close to a fragile distribution shaft, which diverted power to different levels of the ship.

  Gray stepped in and raised his voice in a vain attempt to settle the conflict without more violence. “Everyone step back!”

  Of course, as Gray had expected, no one listened to him. With an exasperated sigh, Gray pulled out his stunner, said “Jericho, watch my back,” and stepped into the fray.

  He tried to cease hostilities with his presence and a few well-aimed jabs alone; the stunner, while effective, was painful, leaving the body numb for a few hours, and throbbing for a great deal more. The fighters, however, were not to be discouraged from their brawl. They took one look at Gray, stunner in hand, and surged against him. He tried to avoid most of the punches, but took satisfaction in doling out his own. There really was nothing better than a good fight when one was bored and lonely.

  But it was not to end pleasantly.

  One of the engineers, more aggressive and less intelligent than his companions, managed to knock the stunner out of Gray's hand and scooped it out of the air. He began shooting his adversaries with abandon, causing a mass panic as people fell over each other to avoid the blast. Scowling at the turn of events, Gray whirled around to deal with the idiot when several things happened at once.

  The massively muscled brute who had taken Gray's stunner turned the weapon on Gray, firing blindly. With a shouted, “watch out, sir!” Jericho rammed into Gray's back, knocking him to the floor, allowing him to avoid the blast. The stunner beam flashed over his shoulder, hitting the distribution shaft, causing an explosion to rip through the air with a thunderous howl. And then, silence.

  Gray opened his eyes and saw more darkness. For one panicked moment, he thought he had gone blind, before a flashing red strobe light cut through the black like a blaster beam, followed by the emergency siren. He could already hear the emergency technician team galloping down the corridor, and the high whine of the cracked distribution shaft. He tried to sit up, knowing that the gases and other noxious materials currently escaping through the shaft were dangerous if inhaled, but he was stuck. Something was pinning him to the floor. When Gray tried to shove it off, he realized that it was the limp (and very heavy) body of Jericho. No amount of shaking would make Jericho budge, and the humacom was too heavy for him to move on his own.

  It was too dark for him to see the emergency technicians as they rushed into the room. They were wearing their biohazard suits, complete with a night-vision facemask in their helmets. Gray felt hands pulling him out from under Jericho, dragging him quickly out of the room and handing him to the equally competent E-Med nurse who was attached to their team. He tried not to gag as the light in the corridor spun and wavered crazily above the nurse's head. There was a quick buzz of the nurse's tranquilizer, and everything faded back to dark and silence.

  “Well, Lieutenant. Bad luck all around, yes?”

  Gray squinted up at the ship's doctor, who was studying his holoboard at the foot of Gray's bed. “Terrible luck.” He croaked. His throat was sore. “Everyone make it?”

  “No deaths,” the doctor replied, scribbling a notation. “Some bad injuries. The fool who damaged the shaft is going to need some cyborization before he can hope to walk again. Some others have some serious lacerations, but no permanent damage. You are fortunate that your humacom fell on top of you. Apart from some gas inhalation which has left you a little sore in the throat, I think, and some scrapes and bruises, you are good to go.”

  The statement had Gray sitting up faster than was wise. “Jericho?”

  The doctor frowned. “What?”

  “The humacom, where is he?”

  “Oh,” the doctor shook his head. “Scrap, from what I've heard.”

  Gray swore.

  The doctor made a soothing hum in his throat. “I wouldn't worry about it, Lieutenant. I'm certain Requisitions will replace it with a new one.”

  Shoving the blanket aside, Gray pushed himself to his feet and staggered out of the infirmary as fast as his aching body would let him. His mind whirled furiously all the way down to the Humacom Mechanics Lab. Carter had warned him about the attitudes that most people aboard the Damacene held about humacoms, but he hadn't realized how deep it went. He had only worked with Jericho for a few weeks, and already he had ceased to think of the humacom as an expendable commodity. Gray didn't feel as though he had lost an expensive piece of equipment. He felt like he had lost a friend.

  No, he corrected himself. He had lost a friend.

  Gray hobbled into the lab, and was met by a surprised-looking mechanic in a white lab coat. He wondered for a moment how he looked,

  singed uniform, hair on end, eyes bloodshot and gritty from the smoke and gas. He shoved that aside and demanded, “Where is my humacom?”

  “Er….Lieutenant Grayson?” the mechanic stuttered, eyes bugging.

  “Yes. Now answer my question!”

  The mechanic backed away warily. “Er…let me get the chief technician.”

  Gray grunted as his left knee, already burning, began to throb. The main lab room was crammed with gear stacked shoulder high, packed between rows of diagnostics tables that resembled infirmary operation tables. Dumped on one table near the door was a badly wrecked humacom. Gray recognized the uniform, and stumbled over to Jericho. The humacom looked as though he had been tossed in front of a firing squad. There were burn marks on most of his body, and the back of his skull had been pulverized. Eerily, what Gray could see of Jericho's face looked serene, as if he were sleeping.

  “A real shame,” the chief technician said behind him. “There's not much I can do for this one. The chassis is in tolerable condition, apart from some external damage. All the main functions in the chest cavity are damaged, but repairable, but there is nothing I can do about the cranium. The OS is damaged beyond what I can fix.”

  “So what happens now?” Gray asked dully.

  The chief technician shrugged. “Scrap. A lot of these models are already expired anyway, and with the recall of all personality programs, it really isn't worth the effort of trying to fix it, even if I could. In short, Lieutenant, I'll send in an order to Requisitions for you.”

  Gray shook his head, burying his anger and grief for later. “No, I don't want another humacom. What happens to Jericho's body? Scraps?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “How much for it?”

  “Pardon?” the chief technician frowned.

  “I'll buy the humacom from the ship. How much?”

  This appeared to really baffle the other man. “I would have to inquire. But why would you want a broken humacom, sir?”
/>
  Gray shook his head. It was impossible to explain that he wanted to do what he hadn't been able to for Adri. Even if it was simply burying a friend without letting him be torn apart like the leftovers of a cannibal meal. He had to put up a marker somewhere.

  He had to ensure that Jericho was remembered.

  “Hey, Grayson, I heard you bought a pile of scrap metal today,”

  Gray squinted over at Carter, who lounged against the opposite chair from his own in the nearly empty mess hall. “Guess so.”

  Taking that as an invitation to chat, Carter flopped down in the seat. “Why?”

  “Long story.”

  Carter rolled his coffee mug between his hands. “I'm sorry. I know how you feel about humacoms.”

  Gray shrugged. “Another casualty.”

  “Is it irreparable?”

  “The tech said so. Too much cranial damage for him to deal with.”

  Carter frowned thoughtfully. “I know a guy…”

  “What?” Gray cocked his head, suddenly interested in the conversation.

  “Actually, I only know him in a superficial way. Our families roam in the same circle. Anyway, this guy I know is a real humacom genius. Works for the government on their humacoms, type of smart. You know, one of those horrible geeky guys who ruin the grade curve for everyone. He could probably fix your humacom for you.”

  “Why would he even let me in the door? Remember, I'm socially invisible.”

  Carter smiled winningly. “I'll give you an introduction. Besides, this guy's really nuts about them. He'd probably even do it for free.”

  “What's the guy's name?”

  “Tarkubunji. He lives just outside of Corinthe.”

  Gray smiled, a little grimly. Corinthe, the place where he would settle the score for Adri, and now possibly resurrect a friend. “Give me the address.”

  The road of life is never straight. It twists and it turns, intersecting with the paths of others. You may look at their road, and envy. But remember, all you see is a small portion of their path. Who knows what lies beyond the bend?

  Palerian Proverb

  No one is a stranger. Everyone you meet plays a role in your life that you may not ever decipher. Tread cautiously therefore, for the foe of yesterday may be your friend tomorrow.

  Junusarian Proverb

  Bad things happen. Deal with them or be buried by them.

  Human Proverb

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Adri had never been to Kieve's capital city before, but after twenty minutes of navigating Barja's clogged streets in its smoggy air, she decided she hadn't missed much. If anything. Barja covered an impressive seventy square miles of the planet's surface, edging dangerously into the red zone set up by the Commonwealth Eco-Habitat Commission for the boundaries of city/wilderness proportionality. In those seventy square miles, the leadership of Kieve had done its best to cram everything of vital importance for a core planet in as little space as possible, leaving the rest for what the planet was known for: auction houses.

  Kieve was, apart from the capital planet Halieth, the wealthiest planet in the Galactic Commonwealth. The reason behind it was simple. It was the business heart of the nation. One could buy virtually anything in Kieve, Barja especially. Here was where military surplus was dumped, where new entertainment devices of all kinds were first marketed, and where the Galactic Commonwealth Navy dropped its prize ships and prisoners of war. All could be bought and sold if the price was right.

  Adri hated it. Too many humanoids crushed together within too confined a space felt more claustrophobic than the unending transport ride from the Space Mission. Everyone was rushing, no one was going in the same direction, and everyone was yelling. She felt ready to blast a path through the teeming mass of life just so that she could take three steps without having to elbow someone out of her way. Beside her, Blair winced at every deafening shout or crash, overwhelmed by the cacophony of noise. He didn't even bother to look around like he had at the mission. Adri guessed that his judgment of the city was the same as her own.

  “Are all cities in the Commonwealth like this?” he asked when they had shoved themselves onto a Public Transit Craft. The doors of the PTC blocked out enough of the noise that Adri could hear him when he shouted.

  “No,” Adri shouted back. “But a lot of them are.”

  A x'zaru shuffled its massive bulk, crushing Blair painfully into Adri's side. “Tell me again, Rael, what we are doing here?” For once the young man's voice hinted at exasperated frustration, and of something darker.

  Adri twisted her neck to look at her companion. Their faces were inches apart. She could see her own reflection in Blair's eyes. “We have to pass on the package from Bathus. He got us on the transport, so we have to pull through on our end. Unless you want him sending bounty hunters after us.”

  “I thought we were doing him a favor?”

  “It's a favor if we do it,” Adri replied, a little amused at his naivety. “It's much different if we don't.”

  Blair's eyebrows dipped into a near-frown. “I don't think I shall bother to ask what that means. But I pray your plan is to depart from this demon pit as soon as this task is complete?”

  “Yeah, that's the plan.” Now Adri frowned, puzzled over Blair's unusual show of emotion. “Blair, is something wrong?”

  The young man did not act surprised as the question. “It's the city.”

  The city? Granted, it was dirty and crowded with more beings that Blair had probably seen in his entire lifetime, but Adri didn't understand the forceful negativity that rolled off Blair in near-palpable waves. “What's wrong with the city?” she asked.

  Blair somehow managed to pull an arm up to rub his face. “My gift. If someone's emotions are strong enough, I can feel them without touching. It's an aspect of healing. Normally I focus and allow someone's body to tell me where there is pain, but this is different. There are a lot of despairing people here, Rael. It's choking me.”

  Adri could see sweat beading on Blair's forehead under his blond hair. She reached out and put a supporting arm around his shoulders. “Guess there's a reason you guys stay in monasteries, huh?” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

  A small smile whispered around Blair's lips. “Afraid so,”

  “So what about me? Why aren't my…gifts…acting up?”

  Blair sighed thoughtfully. They were close enough that his breath ruffled the ends of Adri's hair. “Interesting. I would assume that you have always had natural barriers, no doubt amplified by your life as a soldier. Also, your abilities tend towards a more militant side than an empathic one. Then again, you've tested your abilities so little, who knows what your potential is?”

  Adri grinned. “Trust you to add that in,”

  Blair smiled back, a real smile. It was a bonding moment, where both were aware of the other at a higher level than just a companion.

  The PTC swayed to a halt, jerking its passengers.

  Adri and Blair got off.

  “The address Bathus wrote down is for the main auction house, here. The Sales.” Adri gestured to the giant stone building in front of them. “The name of the person we need to meet is Viara Karkeldel.”

  “What species?” Blair asked, gazing up at the high peaked roof of the building.

  “Don't know. We'll ask around; maybe we'll get lucky.”

  Blair sighed a little as they walked up the massive steps into the foyer, being swept along by a throng of beings going in the same direction. “I haven't noticed much luck thus far.”

  “We're still alive,” Adri replied, with a soldier's optimism. “That's lucky enough.”

  The foyer was a large, splendid space well lit by antique chandeliers. A giant viewscreen in a far wall displayed various pieces that were soon to be auctioned off. The noise from the streets had softened to the gentler rumble of low conversations taking place throughout the room. The air smelled fresher, with a hint of green. To Adri, the atmosphere felt less welcoming than the uthrib bar.
It reminded her too keenly of the social divide that marked all Commonwealth planets. It stank of Rich.

  The two of them walked up to the main counter, a long, luscious sweep of what looked like genuine etari brownwood, and addressed the kievian attendant there. “We're looking for a Viara Karkeldel,” Adri said.

  The kievian squinted one pair of eyes at Adri while the other pair gazed interestedly at Blair. “Ahk, her. Yez, she ist here. In main room, for the aukshon. You want, I will paige, but she ist not come until over. Bezt wait.”

  Adri nodded. “How long until then?”

  The kievian shrugged, a very sinuous movement. “Hour. Two. Gut tingz on sale today. Prize ship come in; lots ohv tings. Prizners the best. They saved for last, for now. Aukshon ‘most over. Now for prizners. Karkeldel like prizners.” Now both sets of eyes focused on Blair. “Someting you look for, holy man? Find you someting you want?”

  Blair blinked. “Er, I don't think so,”

  “Thanks,” Adri nudged the dazed Blair away from the counter.

  “Gut tings!” the attendant called out. “Maybe you want, eh?”

  “Right,” Adri muttered, steering Blair towards the set of double doors that led to the main action hall.

  “I think she was flirting with me.” Blair stated in a bewildered tone.

  “Get your brain back on function, ‘holy man.’” Adri muttered. “We have an auction to sit through, and the people that come to POW auctions are not the best circle in society.”

  “POW auctions?” Blair repeated, but at that moment, they stepped through the doors and entered the auction hall. The noise was louder, like a room full of giant bees that buzzed and hummed over the wide podium at the opposite end of the room, manned by a sleek kievian in a dark suite. Adri and Blair shuffled along the back wall until they found an empty space with a good view of the room.

  Adri bent close to Blair's ear to explain. “Prisoners of War. It's a tradition on several Commonwealth planets to take one's captured enemies and sell them into slavery. The Commonwealth government allows the practice to continue, mostly to save room in our prisons and to add to the manual labor force. Other traditions dictated the gathering of prisoners together for ritual executions, but that is frowned upon now.”