Universe of the Soul (3 page)

I asked my father what it was; it had moved too slowly to be a shooting star, and it hadn't passed through the atmosphere. Was it an asade scout ship, come to note our activities? Was it some new monster come to terrorize us?

“Oh, no, Desmumhnach'tos,” he replied, all calm and stoic. My father was always pretty cool and stoic. I wish I had inherited his constant calm. Nothing ever razzed him. “Its just an abandoned exploration craft from the Blue planet.”

That was the other thing about my father. He always seemed to know everything. The day's weather, politics in a neighboring orhan, the naughty things I did in school.

I remember being in awe. “That came from the Blue planet? I thought they didn't know about us out here,”

“They don't, son. The council elders and I watched it and analyzed it from the observatory. It was unmanned, and had no power. Just more space junk.”

“So they were maybe trying to find us?” I persisted. I was really fascinated with humans, as most young paranthians were. “Maybe the Blue planet is trying to like, make contact or something!”

“Perhaps.” My father was also pretty noncommittal. “But they have not advanced yet to find us, so we must not interfere with them.”

The doctrine of inaction is never a big winner with young paranthians. “But why can't we see the humans?” I whined. I liked to whine then. Well, I still do.

“The Alana galaxy has humans as well, my son,” my father replied. “I am sure they are much the same as the ones here.”

I huffed. “You mean they'll be terran-bound and never make contact?”

“I suppose we shall see. Pick up that crate now.”

And that was that. We left Paranth behind and forged our way into a new galaxy. I still wonder about the Blue planet, but I don't wonder about humans anymore.

They're too much like us.

F
loyd Tarkubunji had a grinding headache. His ears were buzzing painfully, as though a swarm of insects were hovering around him. His eyes burned and his glasses felt too heavy for his head. Every nerve in his body seemed to be withering with fatigue.

The lab was deathly silent, without even the droning of the equipment or the humming of the monitors set up in banks along the room to add background noise. The lights were on full bright, showing the room in stark whites and silvers. Floyd knew the room so well that he could have worked flawlessly with each instrument blindfolded without making a mess.

West Cellutary Research and Technical Laboratories was his workplace, his vocation, and his semi-permanent home.

It was also his prison.

The beeping of the door lock's disengagement system roused Floyd enough to sit up in his chair. He watched with curious detachment as Colonel Reidmen Stroff, head of the facility's military branch and chairman of the board, stepped into the room. His normally imposing figure seemed somehow more ominous than normal. He towered over Floyd, his gray military uniform impeccable, his boots highly polished. His face was perfectly composed; only his dark eyes hinted at a disturbing aura of superiority. Just outside the door Floyd could make out Stroff's two security humacoms standing outside the door before it slid shut.

Both humacoms – or androids with more computer-like functions – had been heavily armed for a simple early morning visit to the lab. Floyd noted that the door had also been locked from the outside.
To keep others out, or to keep him in?
He wondered vaguely if Stroff had found him a liability in the case and was sentencing him to some horrible fate, like a life sentence in the mines or as a test subject for the bio-warfare department. On the tail end of that thought came one of curiosity over why he didn't seem to care. He did, but in his present state, it was hard to feel anything. He was emotionally numb. The pain in his body was the only proof of life he could detect.

“Dr. Tarkubunji,” Stroff began, breaking the silence in which he had been studying Floyd. Floyd wondered what he saw; his hair in need of trimming, sticking out like an overgrown field of wheat? Two day's worth of stubble? The rumpled suit under the equally rumpled lab coat, which he'd been wearing for the past two days? His disheveled appearance didn't alarm him. Strange, because it usually would. “I came here with the verdict on your father.”

“What happened?” Floyd asked. Even his own voice sounded tinny in his ears.

“The detectives from the Department of the Interior have ruled his death a suicide. It appears that he was bent on tearing apart his entire lab, destroying all his notes and most of his equipment before blasting his head off.”

“I see.” He couldn't see at all; his mind was fuzzily blank, unable to compute the idea of his father taking his own life.

“There are necessary steps to be taken,” Stroff continued. “Dr. Harriman Tarkubunji willfully, for whatever reason, destroyed vast amounts of government property and deleted most of his research notes and other information from the mainframe computer. That has led us to assume that he was planning this for some time.”

“You are saying that my father was a traitor,” Floyd said, still eerily detached from the conversation. He wanted to scream with his denial, but he couldn't find the energy to do so.

Stroff huffed a breath, wrinkling his silver brows. “We are not openly declaring that he was, but his actions speak of some kind of motivation. The matter will be under strict investigation. A recall of all his surviving materials will be made, including all his personal databases and humacoms. If we find incriminating evidence against him, the government shall respond accordingly.”

Floyd's headache increased, but his body seemed to be soaked with a surreal lethargy, incapable of reacting. “What about the humacoms here at the base, the ones that he designed? Are they under suspicion as well?”

Stroff coughed into his gloved fist. The man always wore gloves. Why? Floyd was momentarily distracted by that question and only slowly became aware of the colonel speaking again. “We shall have some of the technicians run a scan on all his humacoms here, to see if there is any reason for a recall of all of those. You understand that we shall desire your assistance on this end.”

“Yes of course.”

“In the meantime, my superiors have decided that you are to continue with project C. G. P. 00297 on your own.”

“I understand.”

“Due to your relationship with Dr. Harriman Tarkubunji, your credentials shall be reviewed, and some surveillance of your activities will be set up for the foreseeable future.”

“I see.”

“Good. Do you have any other questions at this time, doctor?”

Questions? Of course he had questions.
He just couldn't remember what they were; his mind was floating in a sea of unreality, his aching body his only connection to the rest of the world. “May I see his body?” he asked, at last connecting his question with his tongue.

“His body has already been cleared by forensics. They've taken him to the morgue, where his will stated he wished to be cremated.”

Something about that statement didn't make sense to Floyd, but he couldn't distinguish what it was. “A notification of his death needs to be sent to my sister.”

Stroff was already heading for the door. “That seems to be a personal matter, doctor. I will assume you can send your own message to relatives and such.” He tapped on the door in a complex sequence, and it was immediately unlocked by one of the securicoms on the other side. Stepping through the door, he turned to regard Floyd briefly. “The Commonwealth will expect you to keep up your workload, doctor. You have inherited your father's position as Chief Humacom Designer and Technician. Congratulations.”

Floyd continued to stare at the door long after the colonel had departed, his body in pain, his heart aching, and his mind in turmoil. Through it all, only one thought came clear.

He was trapped.

***

In the midst of chaos, Adri was a calm, tranquil pool. She had once tried to describe her mental state to Duane, but it had been very difficult. In her mind, like a distant echo, there played a beautiful elegy, both sorrowful and fierce; a fighting elegy. Behind the song was the hum of her adrenaline. When they were in harmony, she knew she was in peak performance. Duane hadn't understood.

Tonight was the same. She paid half an ear to her communicator, listening for calls for help (most likely) or orders from her captain (most unlikely). There was never much emotion in combat, apart from that rush of adrenaline and the beauty of that distant song.

[Sergeant Loaks! What is the situation?] She demanded over her communicator.

Her rear guard officer replied immediately. [It was like they were waiting for us! I count three waves; with wave one hitting us now. There may be others, but I can't see far enough to be sure!]

[Sounds like they planned this carefully,] came Gray's voice. He had moved to join the rear guard and assess the situation himself. [Shall we continue as planned, Lieutenant Commander?]

One second was all the deciding time Adri had. [Change the plan. Forward group, proceed to the shield as planned! Lieutenant Grayson, lead the group down the ridge and guard their backs with Piontek, Jones, and Knowell. Once they are through, return to me! Now move out!]

[Yes ma'am!] Came the reply.

Adri took a deep breath. [Rear group! Back into defensive positions at the forward side of the ridge! Prepare for enemy engagement!]

[Yes ma'am!]

[They'll be within spitting distance in less that one minute! Fight for your homeworlds!]

Soldiers scrambled to reposition themselves into a defensive front as ATF and blaster fire crisscrossed around them. Already Adri could see casualties.

As the seconds counted down in her head, Adri was at last able to see the bare outlines of their clever enemies, racing towards them while they had the initiative. She steadied her arm, aimed and fired.

Grayson ran behind the forward group as they hurried to reach the camp. Eyes alert for any sign of movement, he breathed a sigh of relief as he and his three men reached the cutoff and waited as the forward group passed safely. The Belligerent Coalition had not been fast enough.

Just as he was ready to turn and race back up the ridge to rejoin Adri, he caught sight of a stealthy movement on the west side of the ridge. Adri's forces were concentrated on the assault on the north side, leaving their west and east sides only lightly defended. Waving to his men, he ordered them to follow before moving silently around the ridge to cut off the enemy before they reached Adri's position.

[Grayson to Rael,]

Adri blinked at the sound of Gray's voice. Crouched down, she was waiting for another Belligerent to foolishly get into her range. [Rael here,]

[There's a squad of five or six Belligerents that tried to climb up the west side of the ridge.]

Adri couldn't help smiling. [Tried?]

[Yes ma'am. But it doesn't seem likely that they'd only try it on the west side. You might want to check it out. I'm too far away to cut them off before they reach the top, but I'll swing around and keep them from retreating.]

[Good plan. Rael out.] Finally, a field lieutenant with a brain. Adri scooted along the ridge as low to the ground as possible to avoid enemy fire. So far the Belligerents had done a good job keeping them penned in – far better than usual.

Reaching the east side of the ridge, she motioned her two sentries to follow her as she made her way slowly down to a better position. She hadn't quite made it before a violent flash of color from an outdated blaster rifle temporarily broke the blackness further down the ridge. She dodged the blast, returning fire in the general direction it had come from automatically. There was a hard thump, and something began to roll down the side of the ridge. More fire erupted, coming from the left. Adri ducked behind a tall boulder and squinted in an effort to make out the number of assailants. There were at least two, and from the count Gray had given her, that left at least three others unaccounted for.

A sharp cry over her communicator alerted her to the fact that some of the enemy had made their way behind her, taking out one of her troops. She whirled around and opened fire, just as a burst of concentrated firepower broke out behind her.

[Your back's covered,] Gray announced.

[Thanks.] With no threat behind her, Adri raced ahead, catching sight of one of the enemy, mostly obscured behind a rocky outcropping. She fired, grateful for Gray's backup as a Belligerent popped up less than a foot from her target and was immediately blown away.

Just the barest sound of movement had both of them turning and firing at the last soldier as he attempted to escape. Gray saluted her with his weapon. [We work well together,]

Adri nodded but didn't reply. She motioned to Gray and her remaining soldier to follow her back up to the ridge just as Gray's three troops clambered up over the rocks to reach them. [Uhm, sorry we're late, sir. Ma'am.] Piontek muttered.

Gray turned to Adri and spoke over the officer's frequency. [We're going to have a talk about giving me green troops when we get back to camp.]

Adri smiled, knowing he couldn't see it behind her helmet. [Let's make sure we get back to camp first, Lieutenant.]

[Speaking of getting back to camp,] Gray said as they both ducked behind a shallow outcropping to avoid more blaster fire coming from below them, [We do have a backup plan, don't we?]

Pulling a fragmentation grenade from her utility belt, Adri released the safety and tossed it over the outcropping. [Of course.]

[Oduran to Rael,] the communicator squawked just as the pitch blackness of the night was starting to hint at a lighter shade of dark gray. [White squadron in position, waiting for your signal.]

About time
, Adri thought with relief. Her squadron had been successfully pinned by the Belligerent forces for several hours, with dawn only a scant ninety minutes away. For the safety of the camp, Adri had ordered that the shields be raised and defended from within. They would wait while any Belligerents that might have made their way in to the camp were discovered and eradicated, and the counter attack aligned. In the meantime, it had left her squadron pinned on the ridge with no reinforcements and no retreat. [Rael here, black squadron is ready. Prepare for engagement on my signal.]

Beside her, Gray methodically raked the opposite outcropping, which concealed a pair of very tenacious Belligerents, with ATF fire. The four of them had been in a standoff for the past hour and a half, leaving him with a hint of admiration for both the Belligerent pair and for his companion. [We'd better make a move before those two over there realize that we're out of grenades,] he commented.

[Roger that,] Adri replied. [I'm just waiting for the signal from Duane.]

They ducked in tandem as a handheld plasma grenade sailed over their heads and clattered down the hill before exploding. [They're getting closer; whoever's aiming those things is pretty good.]

[You're not so bad at chucking those things yourself,] Adri said, surprising herself. It was oddly easy to chat with her new field lieutenant in the midst of the chaos of battle. And it was no hardship at all to listen to his voice.

[Duane to Rael,]

[Rael here,]

[I'm resigned to lowering my shields again. Make it quick, will you?]

[You can't rush these things. It's like art,] Adri smiled as she heard Gray snort with laughter at her comment. Then she took a deep breath, refocused her mind, and gave her command. [White squadron, engage! Black squadron, advance!]

They say writing things down soothes a troubled mind. Not that my mind is particularly troubled, and maybe that's my problem. So many things have been battering at my head lately that it seems as though I've somehow placed an opaque barrier between myself and my memories – I can see enough to know that something is wrong, but I won't allow myself to see it clearly enough to identify it. That idea in of itself is troubling. Even this line of inquiry is hurting my head.