The initial deploynt of the fire-team structure has been a success, resulting in a twenty-three percent increase in intra-team soul retention. The post-deploynt review committee found no major errors, but wishes to propagate the following clarifications to further-increase the effect of the change:
That inter-team competition as a mode of bond reinforcent should be encouraged, as antagonistic affinity provides additional resilience against unexpected high-mortality events.That handler-driven bond reinforcent should be discouraged past the priming stage. Externally-imposed links remain a useful tool but do not significantly impact affinity until adopted and reinforced by the recipients.That the rotation for fire-teams which have sustained casualties be lowered to one week. With sufficient priming and the training regin as outlined in Circular #3361, the point of diminishing returns occurs at six days. The full two weeks of training may still provide benefits to combat skill and cohesion if local circumstances permit, but these are secondary priorities and should be evaluated as such by the local handler.
As always, we appreciate the hard work of our field teams in this important and large-scale revision to soul resource managent procedure. The next scheduled review will release its findings at the end of Bounty.
- Institute Circular #3405, 47 Swelter 693.
There had been a boy nad Stefan near the port of Stahm once. He was unremarkable, with an unremarkable life. His father was a fisherman, and so Stefans lot was with the sea. He would fish, and haul fish, and gut fish. He did not wish for a soul. Such things happened to other people, and Stefan was only Stefan.
One day a storm sweeping in from the Cauldron Sea naced the fishing fleet back toward the harbor, as often happened, but on that day the wind leapt into the sail before his father could make fast the boom. The sun-weathered wood swept across the deck and cracked his father in the head. He went overboard, and Stefan never saw him again.
The wind raged, the waves heaved. The boat was not ant for any weather to speak of, and before the storm had reached its peak Stefan knew he would die. He was swept from the deck by a surge of cold brine, tossed into the sea with a half-lungful of air and rope-burn from his futile attempt to cling to the rigging.
He could swim, but it did him little good when he could not tell which way was up. Human limbs were not ant to contest such a sea, and he knew imdiately that he was inadequate to the task.
The realization had scarcely entered his mind before a soul rendered it incorrect. New life surged through his limbs, the burning in his lungs and muscles ceased. Stefan had a soul, and it rendered him tireless, indefatigable. Not able to swim in the chaos of the storm, but able to endure - for he was a durens, and that is what such souls confer.
It was night by the ti he stepped shivering and ragged to the shore. The docks were full of somber n cleaning wreckage, and nobody noticed him limping through the alleys toward ho.
His mother was inconsolable over the loss of her husband. Nevertheless, she stumbled out sleepless and disheveled to take Stefan to the soul registrar the next day, that their good fortune might not be squandered. Stefan was tested and logged as the law required, thereafter gently advised that his soul was good for only manual labor or the army - the sole material difference being that the latter paid better.
Faced with the loss of their sole source of inco, he chose the military. His career was uneventful and short; a burst of shrapnel tore through the side of his face and sent him to a long-term recovery ward outside of Leik. A doctor there spoke of a new deploynt opportunity, one that ca with a real anatons that could fix his face-
Michael winced. He had been following the paths of Stefans life, and here was where they stopped making sense. Stefan loved the sea, Stefan was afraid of the shore. Stefan was stubborn, Stefan did everything the guards asked without question. Two contradictory people inhabited his life, and one had been given primacy through the weight of Sparks soul.
He could see it, now that he had the proper perspective. Sparks soul constrained the way forward so that one could not help but follow the path he laid out. There was no question of deviation, no working past his power. Whichever direction they walked, it was forward as Spark has defined it.
So Michael went backward, to look at the man who had arrived broken and desperate to this island a year ago. The tapestry of his life had been truncated, replaced with simpler cloth that stretched forward to the present. Slowly, Michael found the threads of Stefan as he had been and extended them forward.
It was not perfect. Much had been lost in his year of confinent and control. Like Michael himself, Stefan could not return to the person he had been before Sparks ddling. The scale of the change that had been wrought upon him was humbling, terrifying - Michael felt as if he were censoring a painting made by a master, even if the content and purpose of that art were too horrible to leave uncovered. Sparks power shone from every brush-stroke of Stefans mind.
In the end all Michael was able to do was what he had done for himself - to return the reins of Stefans mind and give him mastery of his own path. To fix the damage Spark had done was beyond him, perhaps beyond Spark himself. More and more, Michael was certain that Sparks power was inherently evil in how it trampled through minds and disrupted the agency of the self. What had been done to Stefan and Beni was certainly so.
He opened his eyes and stepped back. Stefan did not move. His breathing was ragged, and tears traced their way down his cheeks in their slow march. A pang of doubt intruded into Michaels contemplation. Reaching out to Stefan had been an impulsive act, born of the exultation he felt in gaining so form of mastery over his own soul. It was undoubtedly right, but as he watched Stefan struggle to regain his equilibrium Michael wondered whether it might not have been more prudent to wait. If Luc and Claude erged, and the anatons questioned Stefans state
Michael laid a hand on Stefans shoulder and mulled over his words for a mont. How are you feeling? he asked. Any better?
Stefan gave a short, jerking nod and sank to the ground, his hand coming up to grip Michaels with painful force. He drew a shuddering breath before opening his eyes and looking up. He did not say anything, but Michael saw a depth to his eyes that had not been there before. This was a man in possession of his own will once more. This was Stefan.
A noise from the house sent a spike of panic through Michaels chest, and he gripped Stefans shoulder tightly. Dont say anything, he muttered, taking a step back from the other man. Not in front of the others.
He looked up to see Luc and Claude erge from within, a thin volu in Lucs hands. Claude paused to smile once more at Michael before closing the door, and Michael let out his breath; the anatons had not noticed anything amiss.
All set, Luc said cheerfully, brandishing the book so that Michael could see. A treatise on the structure of skin and muscle. I had never really given it much thought, but apparently if you look under a microscope- He broke off, noting the odd atmosphere between the others. Whats wrong?
Michael shook his head. Nothing, he said. Like I said before, its been a long day. I may go back to the barracks for so rest.
Didnt the doctor tell you? Luc said. Youve been assigned better rooms at the main hall, as have the rest of us. No room for these two back at the barracks, yes? I can show you, if youd like.
Ah, perhaps later, Michael demurred. He did not want to go back into that hall unless he had no other choice. Ive just realized Im also quite hungry.
Luc gave him an odd look. You sure youre feeling all right? he asked. I suppose it is close to alti. He shrugged and turned down the road toward the ss hall, opening the book to leaf through the initial pages and making an appreciative noise at one of the illustrations.
Michael followed, keeping an eye on Stefan. He shuffled along in Lucs footsteps much as he always had - but there was an energy to his motions that had been absent before, the ineffable look of a man who was directing his motion rather than simply allowing his legs to carry him forward. Michael adjusted his stride so that he was walking close beside the other man.
We have to hide what I can do, Michael whispered. If they find out, Spark will reassert himself and keep under observation. His thoughts went to an unpleasant place. Or worse, he added with a wince. Best to keep quiet for now.
You have to help Beni, Stefan replied hoarsely, his voice rcifully quiet. Please, if you can do what you did for -
Michael made a hushing motion, nodding. Ill try, he said. We have to be careful, the more I do the more likely it is that soone will notice and report to Spark. Maybe this evening-
What are you two gossiping about? Luc asked, turning and raising his eyebrow.
Once again, Michael felt an absurd feeling of gratitude towards his father; it was thanks to him that Michaels reflexive reaction to shock was to do nothing whatsoever. He smiled at Luc and tried to pretend like his heart wasnt pounding. Just idle talk, he replied.
Oh? Luc said, frowning. He stopped and turned to face them fully. Interesting. I dont think Ive ever t a white-shirt that was interested in conversation, at least not anything past their work.
It occurred to Michael that they were on a deserted street, walking through a stretch of the ramshackle town that saw little traffic. He stepped closer to Luc. Why do you think that is? he asked.
Luc blinked. Ive - never given it that much thought, he said. But theyre injured, yes? From the front? Isnt it normal for soldiers to be taciturn?
There was a curiosity in his voice, an earnest inquiry that froze the next words Michael ant to say. He had considered a few options for breaking free from Lucs unwanted supervision; he had not considered that Luc might be a victim of Sparks as well. His dismissive attitude toward the white-shirts made sense if he was callous or cynical, but also if his thoughts had been made to linger elsewhere by Sparks will.
It was a risk, but if he could release Luc from Sparks control
Luc, Michael said slowly. Can I see that book for a mont?
The other mans frown returned. I suppose, he said, extending it. Be careful, Claude protects his books like the children he never had. If its damaged Ill never get another one, yes?
Michael nodded absently and reached his hand out to grab the book - letting his fingers brush Lucs own hand as he did.
A crying child trying to staunch the flow of blood from a head wound, holding a grease-stained rag to his scalp. Hunger, sickness. The ever-present threat of violence from anyone taller than him. Luc lived as a mouse, scurrying in the corners and taking scraps where they were offered or neglected.
And then one day a man had co and taken him to paradise. He had talked of things that Luc could not understand, treated him with a warmth and enthusiasm that made him suspicious - but also gave him ample food such as he had never eaten before. Not just gruel, but real at, dishes cooked with salt and spices, little sweet cookies sared with marmalade. Leisure, learning - freedom. It was beyond Lucs dreams, beyond anything he believed would ever be possible for his life.
Michael traced the exultant paths of Lucs adolescence with a sinking feeling. There was no trickery here. Spark had left his mind untouched, unconstrained - and had earned his love in the way that any man might do, by showing kindness and care when nobody else would. He could not free him from a compulsion that did not exist.
The mont ended as the transient contact was broken. Luc did not let go of the book, instead pulling it back to give Michael a glare. What did you do? he asked. I know the feeling of a soul being used.
I was checking sothing, Michael said. Lucs glare sharpened, and Michael realized that he wasnt going to get by with such a vague answer. This was not the way he had wanted to proceed, but- I was trying to make sure you were here of your own volition.
My own - I told you why I was here, Luc retorted. You think I was lying?
You might not have been able to say. I thought that- He broke off. You do realize that most of the people on this island arent here by choice? Not the control group, but the white-shirts?
Thats absurd, Luc said. The doctor said they agreed to help him, every one of them.
Stefan raised his head. I agreed to let them fix my face, he said quietly. I agreed to redeploy away from the front. His fists clenched, and Michael took a hasty step to stand between him and Luc. I did not agree for so madman to rob of my will, of my life! To work like an ox, to use in his, his- He made a frustrated gesture, his composure vanishing.
Michael made a frantic hushing motion, but Stefans words had already failed him; the other man stood trembling with anger and grief under Lucs glare.
Then leave, if you dont like it, Luc said.
Spark wont allow it. Michael took a step toward him. How do you think I ca here, Luc? Spark killed my friend and boarded my boat, made forget about my life and freedom away from the island. He wont let any of us leave.
Absurd, Luc repeated. His eyes drifted towards Beni. And what about him? Ive seen his face, hes been here for years. Is he suddenly discontent too, now that youve showed up?
Hes under a compulsion, Michael said quietly. We all were. Beni has been under it for longer than most. He reached out and took one of Benis unresisting hands in his own.
Watch, he said. Ill- Michael choked. Benis mind was desolate, a trackless wasteland. He had existed under the stifling control of Sparks will for so long that there was little left underneath. Michael cast back further, further, trying to find any piece of the man who had been.
He saw Peters face, heard Sofias numb whisper on the docks. Theres no one inside. Then Isoldes hand reached out-
Michael grit his teeth, rejecting the idea. It was not an option. Instead he pushed further into the depths of the ruined canvas that was Beni until he found one shining, solitary thread - a boy with an unlined face perched on a ships mast, laughing in the breeze as his vision soared among the birds, seeing the world as they did.
It wasnt much, but - it was sothing of Benis. It was freedom, joy, the exultation in being alive that had been absent from his existence for too long. Carefully, the urged the tiny thread of Benis being to reassert itself against the wasteland. A small change. Sotis that was all that was needed.
He stepped back and saw Benis face contort with emotion. Misery, sadness, rage - and then only the fury, white-hot and roiling. Anger filled his eyes as they snapped up to focus on Luc.
Beni, wait, Michael said, moving to interpose himself once more. Take a mont-
The other man hurled himself forward, bowling Michael aside to attack Luc. A wordless, animal howl ripped from his throat as the other man danced backward in surprise.
What did you do? Luc shouted. Hes trying to kill !
Thats not what I ant to happen! Michael replied, scrambling to try and grab Beni. The other man twisted like an eel in his hands and charged toward Luc.
Luc ran, yelling for help, and Beni followed. Dread coalesced in Michaels gut as he realized what he had done.
What did you do to Beni? Stefan asked. It wasnt the sa thing you did to .
It was, Michael replied. There was just - less to give back. Ultimately I think all that I did was to show him what had been stolen from him. I didnt think about it. Once I removed Sparks control, he didnt have any left of his own.
Hes not wrong, Stefan said quietly. To be angry.
Michael pursed his lips. No, not wrong. But this does put us in so trouble. Weve got to go.
Stefan shot him an incredulous look. Go where? The only boats are at the harbor, theres guards there. They have guns. Not to ntion the - Spark. We cant stand against him. Hes one of the Eight.
Yes, well, Michael said. So am I.
Reviews
All reviews (0)