“And the girl?”
“She’s of full age, just. An orphan. I tried to pick up the old man first, but he saw me and dodged me. I had to go back after I got the others.”
“I didn’t know that could happen.”
“It’s rare. The second time, he was expecting me.”
“And the females?”
“No-one to mourn them, just as you asked. The weakest is the one who passed out; the strongest is the one you spoke to, Laurel, they look to her.”
“If there had been any alternative...”
Darlen jerked his head towards the loading operation taking place on his ship. “I’m glad there wasn’t. Now, I’ve picked up a couple of parasites, and I have a monumental headache. Can I see the medics before you blast me into space?”
Save for this single deed of securing whole souls, Commander Harry was a decent, caring and principled man. Even the prospect of sharing any quadrant of the universe with a Soul Monger brought a sense of contamination. But Darlen had primarily kept his part of the bargain, and Harry couldn’t refuse anyone medical help.
“Clear out as soon as you’re done.” Harry called over a guard to accompany Darlen to the medical facility.
Darlen ignored the escort and stepped closer to Commander Harry. The Commander didn’t flinch, just held the Soul Monger’s gaze; the two men almost matched in height.
“You think you’re better than me, Commander,” Darlen hissed in a low voice. “You think I don’t know that? I didn’t have your freedoms, your luxuries. I was born into this way of life, bred for Soul Mongering. Don’t presume I don’t have a conscience and…” he closed the gap between them, practically nose to nose. Harry felt Darlen’s spit land on his chin. “I’ll tell you something for nothing. I didn’t choose these whole souls; they chose me.”
Darlen stayed there for a second, searching Harry’s face for a response, but when none was forthcoming, he turned on his heel and casually sauntered away, the guard following two steps behind. Commander Harry didn’t move even after Darlen was out of sight, then he wiped his chin on his glove. He didn’t realise the taking of whole souls was a two-way affair. Most likely a lie, Soul Mongers weren’t known historically for their attachment to the truth, but Harry had to concede, Darlen was correct on one point, Harry did see himself as a better person. Before the war, if he’d ever had to think about it, he would have regarded himself more principled than any Soul Monger. Now, as part of that team who saw no other outcome for this war but chaos, and one who supported the use of whole souls, in truth, he was in no position to judge. As it stood, he was no better than a Soul Monger himself.
Chapter 6
Laurel knew, like her, none of the others at first believed the space story Darlen spun them on the journey here, not even the silent Eli, but now, she realised this was no strange shared dream between individuals who’d never met before. After seeing the outside of his tatty ship, in that hangar, nearly the size of a town, filled with other strange craft, and beyond them, the stars and that yellow planet; this was not a reality Laurel ever dreamed about. As she followed the hovering gurney, she took in as much of her surrounds as she could; one or two people in uniform passed by offering curious glances, but each smiling courteously. As they walked, the clean, metallic walls reflected light from a source Laurel couldn’t determine, imparting a kind of cold reassurance that wherever they were, behind it was a neat and organised brain. Ahead, Helen was fully awake, trying to make conversation with the female guard, undeterred by the woman’s lack of understanding. Laurel’s anger dimmed on this brief walk; taking its place, a sense of stillness, of expectancy. Without realising it, Laurel’s mouth curved up into a slight smile.
Although they were no longer manacled, they still walked in the same single file Darlen arranged them in. Chloe clung to the young uniformed man assigned to help her, and Eli meekly followed at the rear, eyes cast down. The women paused at an entrance, and with nothing more than a flutter of the hand, a door twisted open with an elaborate flourish, admitting the party into a tastefully furnished apartment. The window, occupying an entire wall, afforded an impressive view of the yellow planet. Fresh flowers sat in a bowl on a table. Colourful scenes were painted across each wall, and several large, comfy couches with bolster-style cushions were placed tidily around the room. The floor was carpeted with a soft, warm covering, and after the cold metal on Darlen’s ship and the hard floor in the hangar, it was a glorious relief to their bare feet. Laurel wiggled her toes, luxuriating in the silky fibres. A quick glance at Marta showed she was enjoying precisely the same thing.
Helen was helped from the gurney and gently settled on one of the couches. Although much recovered, the women seemed intent on carrying out one final check on her vital signs. Conferring in their own language, they consulted their instrumentation before stepping back to take their place at the young male guard’s side.
“This is our prison?” Helen said, wriggling herself into a sitting position. She looked around. “Looks more like a hotel.”
“Are we to be here together?” Laurel didn’t know which guard to address, the fact that the men in the hangar spoke English was beyond her, but perhaps it was time to stop being surprised and start expecting the unexpected. The female officers shook their heads and pointed to the young man propping up Chloe. His English was poor, as if he’d had a recent crash course for the purpose.
“Yes! All in,” he declared in a loud voice, startling Eli and causing him to look up. The guard smiled; a cheering, enormous, all-encompassing smile. “Fell safe and tight together!”
They understood. They were to share this room, and the young man’s inaccurate but cheerful delivery inspired trust. It would suffice for now.
The female officers gave each of them a pouch with a tube attached. The young man gently passed Chloe over to Marta and took a pouch from his colleague; he placed the tube in his mouth, lifted his eyebrows and nodded, inviting them to follow suit. He finished the contents without pausing for breath. Laurel, Xavier and Marta did the same; the fluid was bitter, but easy enough to swallow.
“Now you,” he said to Helen, trying to help her lift the tube to her lips. She turned her face aside and folded her arms in defiance.
“I’m not drinking any more alien space drinks.”
The young man, lost for understanding, turned to Laurel for help.
“I think it’s replacing electrolytes, Helen; we’re dehydrated.”
“There was something in that pink stuff on Darlen’s ship. It made me pass out.”
“I think you should drink it; I’m sure it won’t harm you.”
The young guard understood the word “harm”. “No! No harm. Good! Commander Harry say you need!”
Laurel lifted the tube to Helen’s lips; after a moment, she drank.
“If it kills me, it’ll be your fault,” she declared accusingly.
“If it kills you, Helen, it won’t matter because we all drank it.”
Eli tossed the bag onto one of the couches. The young soldier saw but turned his attention to the rest of the group while one of the female guards assisted Chloe in finishing the drink.
“Some person come and show you data. Asde,” he placed his fist on his chest by way of introduction, “and I see more of you.” He headed towards the exit, standing back as the two women left ahead of him, then with one last broad grin, he followed them through the door which closed behind them in a convoluted dance, affording a measure of entertainment to the rooms bemused occupants. A line of blue light surrounded the boundary of the exit. Laurel went to investigate. Two tiny lights on a panel glowed in invitation. She touched one and waited. Nothing. She touched the other one and the door unfolded with such astonishing rapidity, she stepped back. It remained open, so, approaching it once more, she peered out into the corridor; a man walking past smiled and nodded. She moved back inside and touched the other light again; in response, the door sorted itself out.
“This isn’t a prison,” sh
e said, turning to the others. They’d watched her with interest but did not attempt to go through the door. Eli lay sprawled on one of the couches. Chloe let go of Marta and bravely ventured towards a separate doorway.
“I think this is the toilet,” she said standing in the entrance; the women went to investigate the room—empty—save for a urinal thrusting its rubber-looking funnel proudly from the wall.
“I’d love a bath,” Helen said, as she returned to the couch.
“There doesn’t seem to be a bath; that young guard said someone is coming to show us, maybe there’s a bathroom along the passage,” Marta said as she sat beside Helen, making no move to go outside to confirm her theory.
Xavier eased himself onto one of the couches, only to discover it so soft, his slight frame sank right back, lifting his feet from the floor and more or less swallowing him up. Possibly not the funniest thing to happen, but the incident lightened their mood, and Xavier laughed along with the rest of them.
Chapter 7
Just as they began to think they’d been forgotten and fallen to debating the plausibility of the planet outside, Commander Harry arrived. He drew out a chair and sat where he could give each of them equal attention.
“We planned to ask Darlen to conduct a tour of the facilities in the accommodation,” he said, running his hand through his hair, Laurel guessed it was a gesture of exasperation at the behaviour of their captor. “But under the circumstances, we felt it better if his contact with you was limited. He’ll be leaving the ship soon,” Harry grinned. “Now, I rarely speak English, be prepared for mistakes.”
“You speak good English, Commander,” Xavier said, “better than mine. Where did you learn?”
“If I start that story,” Commander Harry laughed, “you’ll have more questions. It may need to wait for another time. Xavier, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Xavier Gulloti.”
“I’m pleased to meet you—all of you. And you are Eli?” Commander Harry shifted his attention to the sullen young man bundled up in the corner of a couch, his arms crossed over his abdomen, clearly suffering from his non-compliance with the supplements offered to ease discomfort. Eli ignored Harry’s greeting, but Harry’s gaze lingered for a moment, and Laurel didn’t miss the concern that registered on his face before he turned to Chloe. “And you are Chloe?” Chloe nodded and wriggled closer to Marta. “And Marta? Helen?” Marta and Helen both responded with a subdued, “yes”.
“And you are Laurel. So far the most talkative.”
“Well, we’re confused, Commander,” Laurel admitted.
“That’s understandable. I’m happy you didn’t say terrified,” he glanced at Chloe who plainly did still suffer a measure of anxiety.
“We’d like an explanation, Commander. I did ask you,” Laurel ventured, and several expectant pairs of eyes turned to Harry. He blinked a couple of times, considering his words. Laurel could tell he’d been instructed not to give too much away.
“Let me first explain how to use these facilities,” Harry stood up. “It’s crucial that you eat and drink. Your digestive system, oesophagus, stomach, bowel, all need to become properly patent again; they’ve been dormant for many weeks. Asde told me you drank the rehydration solution; you will be provided with another later.”
“Eli didn’t have his,” Laurel pointed to the bag lying on the couch.
“I can see that; it doesn’t look as though he had the enzyme activators either. Don’t worry; we’ll sort it out. Now,” he walked over to an appliance set into a hollow in the wall; the machine was surrounded by various lights and controls. They’d speculated on its possible function earlier. “This dispenses food,” Harry said. “According to Darlen, what it produces is not of the same quality that is available on your world, but I believe you will find it satisfactory. Darlen supplied approximations of the food ingested on Earth, and we have sought to replicate it. Of course, we only had his word,” Harry finished in a dismissive tone that suggested Darlen’s word meant very little.
“Probably just hamburgers and thick shakes,” Helen said to Laurel under her breath.
“The system is limited in what it can produce,” Harry continued. “I programmed it to respond to English, but there are only six meals available; porridge, which I can confirm is reasonably authentic; a milk-based dish called semolina, but as we don’t have the creatures called cows—we used a similar protein which comes from a different source, so you might find a difference in taste. In addition, there are four items Darlen calls ‘stews’, one which consists of animal protein, one a blend of plants, which you call vegetables, and two local dishes which I recommend. I understand these, or their equivalent, are commonly eaten on your world?”
No-one answered. Laurel would have preferred to know why she was here. Discussing cuisines seemed like delaying tactics. Helen murmured she was lactose intolerant and wondered if she should speak up. Marta had never heard of semolina, but Xavier’s smile suggested he liked the sound of them all.
When he didn’t get a response, Harry continued. “This second device,” he pointed to a smaller hollow, “dispenses water and various teas. Most of the star systems in the League drink tea in one form or other, perhaps similar to yours, combining herbs and floral essences. We also have a beverage made from a grain, which Darlen advises is comparable to a drink called coffee. You can dispense it from here. Do you have any questions?”
Surprisingly, it was Chloe who spoke. She raised her hand. “I have a question. Is the food composed of molecules that materialise when you ask for it? Or is it already prepared and kept in the machine?”
“Yes,” Helen chimed in, “there’s a TV series about space exploration that has things called replicators, that people go up to and ask for what they want, and it appears. They can get anything; clothes, food, weapons.”
Harry was incredulous. “I didn’t realise Earth was so advanced!” he replied in all seriousness.
“It’s not,” Helen said, not connecting his astonishment to the remark. “It’s make-believe.”
Harry frowned, this was unexpected. He understood Earth to be primitive, so Laurel decided to help him out.
“We have television, Commander. It’s an…” she looked for a word, “entertainment device where we can watch stories someone invents; the one they speak of is a science fiction program, it’s fantasy, not based in fact. It’s just a speculative reality.”
“I see,” he said, but the slight crease of his forehead told Laurel he didn’t. “I’m afraid this is not so impressive. The foodstuffs,” he went on to explain, “are compiled from organic sources and constituted for use on space-going vessels. When requested, the individual components are reconstituted and dispensed. Helen, would you care to try one of the dishes?”
Helen shrugged. “Okay, what do I do?”
“Choose a dish.”
“I suppose I could try a stew.”
“Would you prefer animal products or vegetable products in the stew?”
“You don’t make it sound very appealing. I’ll try the vegetable.”
“Just say, ‘vegetable stew’.”
Helen did. In response, the hollow lit, and in less than a minute, a small tray consisting of a dish of hot food, accompanied by a bapth-like bread, lifted onto the dispensing stand.
Helen was suitably impressed. “That’s unbelievable! Can I try the drinks?”
“Of course,”
“Does it do beer?”
“Umm, no. We don’t have beer.”
“But you sound like you know what it is?”
“I do,” Harry smiled. “Water and hot drinks only. Nothing that will impair your senses.”
Helen turned to the others and pulled a face, then picked up the dish of stew. Only one utensil was supplied; a hybrid fork/spoon. “It’s not bad,” she said between mouthfuls, not caring that she was the centre of attention. “Tastes like…I dunno, trees.”
Laurel saw Harry stifle a grin. Very likely, Helen was going to be an amusing
companion. She placed the bowl back on the tray and picked up the bapth, “Could’ve done with a bit more, though. Is there butter?”
“Er, no,” Harry replied. He could see he was about to begin a steep learning curve regarding Earth human’s culinary preferences. “But you can have more later,” he offered. “I expect you discovered the toilet?”
“Yes, there was something similar on Darlen’s ship,” Laurel said. “We’d like to wash, but we didn’t see water or a sink.”
“It’s fully equipped, I’ll show you.”
The slot, as Harry inelegantly referred to the bathroom, wasn’t substantial enough to allow them all in, and except for Eli, they crowded around the entrance. There was no door, so privacy could be an issue. Harry pressed against the wall, causing it to curve inward, revealing a recess with a mesh backdrop.
“You only need to stand in here, and the shower will do the rest,” he explained. “I’ve programmed it to understand you. Darlen informed me you cleanse your bodies only with water; planetside, so do we, but out here, we use a substitute. It will feel the same as water, but it is in fact oil-based. It cleanses and sanitises the skin thoroughly. When you wish to commence washing you say, ‘start’, and when you have finished cleaning, just say, ‘stop’. The mesh delivers both the cleanser and air to dry you when the cycle is complete.” Harry smiled as he pushed his way out through the four women who had somehow managed to squash themselves into the tiny room.
“Do we take off our clothes first?” Helen asked.
“Yes, they’ll get wet,” Harry answered, accepting her question as entirely reasonable. “There’s a place for hand-washing only,” a drawer appeared from the wall with just a wave of his hand, “and a mirror; one in here and a full-length one against the bulkhead near the food dispenser. Just direct your voice towards that bar on the wall and say, ‘image’.”
The Soul Monger Page 5