Universe of the Soul (20 page)

The only thing I remember with clarity was the noise. It was overwhelming; all the people rushing to and fro, shouting, clamoring, and arguing. All the spacecraft shuttles roaring as they idled or ascended. The thunderous beating of my own heart as I clutched my brother's hand.

The smell I can also remember. It assaulted my nose with a cacophony of exotic mixtures I had never experienced before. Fuel and fumes, rotting organics, sweating humanoids, and the distinctive, sour scent of panic. I recall all this now and am only grateful I didn't really understand at the time just how precarious my continued existence was. Or how fragile a hold I had on life, even after we left our homeworld.

The Blairs, my family of which I had a mother, father, and older brother, were refugees fleeing the oncoming invasion of the Commonwealth army. Our planet sat on the contended border between the warring governments of the Commonwealth and the Coalition of Planets, resulting in a battleground. We left before either force had a chance to blockade, and headed out into space looking for a new home and a new life. All I understood was the excitement of my first space voyage, and took in the cramped quarters, the bland food and the lack of any real convenience with a sense of boyish adventure. It didn't last, however.

One day, I began to feel very sick. It was like I had swallowed a snake, and it was writhing and twisting around in my gut, biting me relentlessly. Quickly following that was a headache of amazing proportions; like someone was sitting on my skull, trying to crack it. Within hours, I could barely talk, and was fading in and out of consciousness. I only have impressions after that, of my family tending to me, whispering and arguing. When they argued it was worse, like their fear and anger was translating as pain, increasing my own.

One day I woke up in a wide bed in a strange room. I was as weak as a baby gigo, being tended to by one of the large, avian Junusarians. He told me that I had been very sick, but was on the mend. I was lucky, most of the others on board my craft had died of this sickness, and the survivors had fled weeks ago, never to return. When I asked after my family, he shook his head. Dead or alive, my family was gone.

A
weapon! A weapon! Anything!
Adri's mind screamed as the Guardian rushed towards her, his roar echoing in the soundless world. As the creature swung his weapon – something along the lines of a mace from antiquity, she reflexively raised her hand to shield herself. There was a surge of heat as the mace swung, only to bounce away before it made contact. Adri didn't have time to think how strange that was, she was already moving in, trying to wrest the weapon from the creature's claws. Contact with the Guardian's oily black skin (or whatever it was) burned like dry ice, forcing her to let go.

The creature howled again. It appeared her touch had been painful for it as well. Adri ducked the next blow, and leaped agilely away from the third. Her mind was quickly processing the odds of the fight; her mind had reached its tranquil state as her adrenaline rushed, heightening her senses. Despite the oddness of the situation, this was something she understood. Kill or be killed. The Guardian fought well with his weapon. While Adri had little practical experience with the type of combat which focused on bludgeoning instead of shooting, she knew enough to see her opponent was skilled, and would kill her if she didn't get a weapon of her own, and fast.

A weapon, Blair!
She called, dodging another blow.

Blair's voice came from nearby.
You have one, just use it.

Where?
Adri hissed as the mace grazed her cheek before she could duck. The Guardian grunted and pounced, knocking her off balance. She fell into the gray mist, whirling around just as the creature raised his mace for a killing blow. Once again, she reflexively shot her hand out to ward off the blow – and found herself holding a long pole, the pointy end of which was now sticking out of the Guardian's now evaporating back. Before Adri had time to blink (if she even needed to blink in the Spirit Realm) the creature had dissolved into the mist with an agonized wail.

Willing herself to her feet, Adri turned to confront the second Guardian who had hung back during the fight. The Guardian slowly backed away until it disappeared in the mist. She could barely make out the blur of it fleeing at top speed before it disappeared. Feeling revved from the sudden outcome of the fight, Adri scoffed,
Coward.

You underestimate your intimidation factor in your present state, Rael.
Blair commented from behind her.

Adri turned to see him next to her, as calm and unruffled as usual.
How is a pointy stick intimidating? A good blaster or ATF, now, that can be intimidating.
She looked down at the weapon in her hand. She was holding a long wood shaft that supported a blade about a foot in length. The weapon reached Adri's shoulder, and was surprisingly well balanced and easy to handle. Still, Adri would have preferred her ATF.

It's not just the lance that is intimidating, Rael,
Blair replied.
They know that weapon as the one used by Veranda. Few would want to fight an Adept, especially you in your current state.

Current state? What do I look like?
Adri hastily checked herself over, noted that the tattoos were still present, but also…
okay, where did the wings come from?

The wings are not for flying,
Blair gestured for Adri to follow him.
It's merely an outward expression of who you are.

Adri suddenly felt cold.
And who am I?

You are the heir of Veranda, empowered Adept.

***

“The enemy ship has made no attempts to close the distance between it and the
Damacene
,” Analysis Officer Wede-Uctan announced at yet another senior staff meeting the following morning. Gray was becoming quite at home in the War Room. “The best analysis that the drones have come up with is that they are waiting to see when or if the
Damacene
will engage on its own. The probability of outcomes suggests - ”

“I don't want to hear the list,” Captain Heedman cried in agitation from his seat at the head of the table. “What's the bottom line?”

For once, Gray was glad that Heedman was a sniveling coward.

Wede-Uctan swallowed. “The drones have analyzed a fifty percent chance of the enemy ship engaging either one of us. Taking in their ability to…well…teleport themselves, the statistics are useless. We have no idea how close they need to be to appear on our ships. Lacking that information, it is an eighty percent chance that they will avoid a confrontation with the
Damacene
completely and target the
Oreallus
as the weaker vessel.”

While Operations Officer Susan Janag argued about probable outcomes, Gray sat and considered the situation. When Carter leaned forward and asked what he thought, he replied frankly, “Given the circumstances, I would have to say its fight or flight. Commander Solson just stated that the engines are functioning at normal speed, and Lieutenant Xe from Maintenance announced that repairs have progressed enough to allow us to either turn and fight with the
Damacene
or move into Flight Frequency. We have options, but by far the best would be - ”

“To let the
Damacene
handle it!” Heedman exclaimed, having obviously been listening to Carter and Gray's conversation. “What could be better? Since the
Oreallus
still needs to finish repairs, but is effectively repaired enough to continue on to Halieth alone, the
Damacene
can deal with this nuisance.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Gray gritted out, “The
Damacene
has even less of an idea how to deal with these people than we do. It would be far better for us to lend our support and take on the Belligerent ship two to one for an easier victory than allowing our comrades to face them alone.”

“Nonsense,” the captain sputtered. “The
Damacene
can handle this well enough. And who are you to wager the outcome of a fight?”

“I'm the security officer. Sir. I faced the Belligerents when they boarded, and can say with certainty that standard security measures won't be enough. The
Damacene
would be less prepared than we were. We can't just leave and let them fend for themselves.”

Something distantly akin to cunning came into Heedman's eyes. “Field Lieutenant Grayson has a point,”

“He does?” Carter repeated in surprise. Apart from asking Gray his opinion, it appeared as though Carter had dozed through the entire meeting. Gray couldn't tell if his sudden surprise was because he had had a point, or because Heedman had acknowledged it. He assumed the latter, although the tone suggested the former. Carter was tricky that way.

“Absolutely,” Heedman nodded to Carter as though he were a bright student and Heedman a wise old scholar revealing a difficult concept. “And the solution is obvious. Lieutenant Grayson will board the
Damacene
, and advise on the security measures there. The
Damacene
will have every advantage, while the
Oreallus
continues on to Halieth. That way we won't be a liability to them when they engage with the enemy.”

“But sir,” Vice Captain Lowell stuttered, his eyes popping. “We won't have a security officer!”

The captain waved his hand. “I'm sure Grayson's second in command can handle the assignment. After all, we are nearly in Commonwealth Space, aren't we? With the
Damacene
watching our backs, what could go wrong?”

Captain Heedman beamed merrily into the horrified silence.

***

“Why me? Was I picked? Did I somehow choose it? What?” Adri was sitting on the medical bed, dressed in a long colorful robe provided by one of the silent Junusarians. She toyed with a cup of some sort of fruit drink laced with a vitamin cocktail Blair had concocted. Her right arm was sore, but it no longer burned. The rest of her felt achy, like she had gone a violent round with the flu and had not come out the winner. Her mind, however, was calm. She had decided that this whole bizarre episode could be dealt with once she knew all the facts. Handily, it appeared Mr. tranquil magical Doctor Blair had them.

Blair sat across from her in a chair, drinking some other mixture that smelt a bit like boiled flowers. “Scientists can whittle it down to genes. The official theory is that there is a Talented gene, for lack of a better term, which is carried by a small percentage of the female humanoid population in the universe. ”

“How small?”

“Less than one percent. Considering the population, however, the numbers are in the tens of millions. Of those that carry the Talented gene, most live out their lives with the gene remaining dormant, passing it on to the next generation without even knowing of its existence. The only indication of something extra will generally be felt like a vibe, or extra attuned senses. These people are termed Sensitives. On occasion, this dormant gene will become dominant. This usually occurs during a period of extreme physical or emotional stress. Something about the excess influx of adrenaline, brain chemicals and the abnormally heightened senses triggers the gene. No one really understands it completely. After this, the person will display such abilities as telepathy, telekinesis, psychomentry, and so on.”

“So I'm one of those people? My mother gave me a paranormal gene that switched on when I nearly died?”

“No. These people only have the gene from one parent. The usual term for them is a Talented. You are an empowered Adept, with exponentially more power than a Talented.”

Adri took a deep breath and tried to silence the voice in her head that was laughing at the idea that she had some sort of magic power. “Okay, so what's an Adept?”

“An Adept is someone who carries the Talented gene from both parents, and whose said genes become dominant. This almost never happens. In fact, there is only about three in every generation. These three particular beings have distinctive characteristics, and the inheritors are generally named after the first three who showed these powers.”

“How do
these
gene become dominant?”

“The same way, as far as I know.”

“But I've nearly died dozens of times. Why now?”

Blair shrugged delicately. “Coincidence?”

“Meaning?”

“Who can really say?”

“So you're saying that I happen to be an Adept because of a genetic fluke?” Adri asked, incredulously. “And it happed now for no particular reason?”

“Pretty much. Being religious, I would look at it as Divine intervention. You were chosen to become an Adept. You were chosen now because you will need those powers in the future. Look at the situation: you are a soldier who inherited the power of Veranda, who's abilities are said to lean towards physical might. That appears to be more than coincidental to me. You may have some sort of great destiny ahead of you.

“Destiny?” Adri rubbed her forehead. “Wait, wait, don't even go there! I can sort of accept the fact that my parents gave me some weird gene that allows me to have special powers, but I do
not
have a preordained destiny. Is that clear? There is to be no talk whatsoever about such things as destiny, or prophecy, or fate. And I had better not hear any phrases from you that contains the term ‘chosen one.' If these banned words and phrases are uttered within my earshot, I will personally decapitate you with my…I think it's a lance. Understood?”

Blair was silent for several seconds. “I believe so. You must have been a very effective soldier.”

“Right about that.” Adri took a swallow from her cup. She cocked her head. “Out of curiosity, why is it you know all this Talented and Adept and magic stuff?”

The young man smiled a little. “The Junusarians are both very religious and very studious. There are several among those in this monastery that are Sensitive. I spent many years studying with them. I myself am a Talented, after all.”

Adri made a humming noise and sipped again. The contents weren't too bad to someone who had lived on military food over nine years. “All right. Now that I know all that brilliant stuff, when can I leave?”

“Leave?”

“Yeah. You saved my life, I'm grateful, but now I have to get back to, well, my life. I have responsibilities. And duties. And possibly a boyfriend who thinks I'm dead that I really would like to get back to. So…?”

Her companion opened his mouth and closed it several times without speaking.

“Well?”

“I hesitate to speak. All my arguments would involve the usage of words that have been stricken from my vocabulary.”

“Good, then I'll be off as soon as my body reaches a hundred percent. How soon will that be?”

Blair blinked. “Not long, considering the rapidity of your recovery thus far. Perhaps another week. But don't you wish to learn more about… your gifts?”

“Not really. I got by just fine without them, so I think I can continue on just as fine.” Adri scowled. “And don't think you can hook me in by engaging my curiosity. That's how cats die, and I am not so stupid as… what?”

Blair pointed at her cup, which was bubbling angrily.

Adri dropped the cup, spilling green liquid across the floor. “What the hell was that?”

“You might have lived your whole life without your gifts thus far, but recent happenings will not allow you to continue to do so. Once you start, you have to learn how to stop, or at least to control.”

Still staring down at the bright green puddle, Adri muttered, “Control, huh? How do I know you didn't do that yourself?”

“I'm a mystic.” Blair replied in his usual stoic voice. “My gifts are limited to empathy, healing, and entering the Spirit Realm. Besides, didn't you feel the heat of your anger when the cup began to boil?”

Because she had, Adri only shrugged. “So, how long will control take to learn?”

Fetching a cloth from a shelf across the room, Blair answered, “Control is a life long pursuit, Rael.”

“I am NOT staying here longer than it takes to get my body back in shape,” Adri snapped.