What could they want with the galaxy’s most violent, incorrigible criminals who were beyond any possibility of rehabilitation? Rumors abounded about torture, bionic engineering and hideous experiments that were performed upon the living and the dead. Andersonville had acquired a reputation as a chamber of horrors designed to test the limits not only of human psychic endurance, but human genetic material as well. However, rumor was rumor and nothing more. The fact was no-one knew precisely what the Gorgons did on their prison planet because no humans had ever been permitted to either enter or leave Andersonville. Besides, such gossip had all the ear marks of space opera cliché. Certainly, it only reflected racist human attitudes towards their reptilian overlords. Vicious, sadistic criminals were themselves hardly human; the Federation was best rid of them.

All of this flashed through Sam’s mind as he confronted the small, mad man with the metal hand before him. Was he truly the first escapee from Andersonville? His shuttle craft’s black box named Andersonville as the place of embarkation. No coordinates were given, the location of the prison planet remained unknown. Had the compu-log been altered? Was better evidence of the reality of Andersonville the man's madness? Or, his metal claw?

“I won’t talk to her. I ... can’t... I’m mad, you know.”

“So is she.”

The man lifted his face to the Tygor giant.

“Next, you’ll tell me she also escaped from Andersonville.”

“No, I won’t. This girl is not human. She is the only Soul Healer known in our entire universe and she herself claims to be unique. She might, possibly, be able to help you, to calm the whirlwind in your head. She might give you hope for the possibility of life after so much pain. Possibly. Possibly ...”

To Sam's surprise, he heard himself muttering.

“Such noble motives, tall green one.” The man’s metallic voice should have been dripping with contempt but was completely lifeless, without any inflection. “What you want is information, all I can give you about the Gorgon’s dark side.”

“True.” Odd, thought Sam. The eyes are mad, but the words are not.

“Those other possibilities are real.”

“False hope, I neither need nor want. I simply wish to die.”

The man’s voice was now monotonic and flat; no inflection or emotion infused his words. He might have been - perhaps was? - a robot so deficient in programming that it could not even imitate human feelings. Now, there is a thought, mused Sam. I’m dealing with a defective android, possibly one of those trained killers - a replicant.

“I’ve told you repeatedly, I can’t give you any information. I don’t remember Andersonville. I’m speaking the truth.”

“And your metal claw?”

“That is also a mystery to me.”

“Sometime events too horrible to encompass are blocked out from the brain’s recall process but remain deep within it's memory banks. This selective, unconscious amnesia is a common process. Many people do it with childhood trauma. The Soul Healer can help you penetrate that fear and remember.”

“I don’t wish to remember. I don’t wish anything except to be left alone."

“Now considering where you’ve been, the Federation can hardly do that.”

Sam chuckled audibly, but was again the reply was stony silence. He sighed. Very well then, he thought, without your permission.

“Come in, please.”

The Soul Healer entered. She walked slowly, glancing neither to the right or left but straight ahead into the future of her dreams. Tiny, petite, and voluptuous, the girl exuded surprisingly little sexuality considering her appearance. Rather, she gave off an aura of great sadness mixed with hints of awesome power. Magic truly transcended sex. Her curly brown hair glistened, ringlets cascaded to her shoulders. A pugnacious, upturned nose was singularly out of place. Her mouth was fine, hard and tight lipped.

Her eyes, however, transfixed all who could look at her for they did not exist. No iris or pupil greeted the onlooker. Where human eyes reside, featureless ellipses of grayish almond looked out upon the world and the gods know what else. Soul Healers were more than blind. Although they could not see visible light, they were mutants who could see through the window of the soul.

The small man with the metal claw and dead voice looked up.

“It won’t do any good, you know. No good, at all.”

Sam started and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Was that sadness in the man's voice?

The Soul Healer unerringly took the seat Sam held for her and faced the prisoner. She could easily sense objects with precision.

“I'll be back in an hour.” Sam coughed and left the room by the side door. If the Soul Healer could not probe the man’s mind, his secrets would likely lie buried forever.

The prisoner and the Soul Healer stared wordlessly at one another.

But not for long.

“If you don’t cooperate with me, they’ll turn you over to Father Adler." The Soul Healer’s voice was sweet and warm, although deep and husky.

“Who is he?” The man with the dead voice sat motionless on his metal stool staring at the Soul Healer.

“Father Adler is the Federation’s Chief Assassin and he is also a Master Interrogator. When he gets through with people, they are never the same.”

Silence.

“I've been told,” said the Soul Healer, “that you do not refuse food and drink. If you want to die, why don’t you starve yourself to death?”

“I don't know.”

“You seem surprisingly ignorant of yourself.”

“Yes.”

“Well, not quite dead are we? Sex, pity and remorse. Not bad, not bad.” The Soul Healer’s tone contained just a trace of sarcasm.

“I'm sorry,” said the prisoner.

“Don’t be,” said the Soul Healer. “May I touch you, hold your hands in mine? That is how I do my work.”

“No, you may not! No one touches me! No one! I’ll kill you if you try.” The man’s tone reflected terrible, invisible demons.

“I won't hurt you,” said the Soul Healer.

“Yes, you will,” said the prisoner softly. “You wont mean to but you will.”

“What is your name?”

“I don't know.”

“May I call you Anderson, then?”

“If you wish.”

Silence.

“If I touch you, why will it hurt?”

“I don't know, but it will, unbearably.”

Silence.

“I can’t help you, if I cannot hold your hands.”

“It doesn’t matter, nothing can help me.”

Silence.

In a movement so quick and assured that it caught the prisoner completely off guard, the Soul Healer grabbed and briefly held both his hands, the one made of flesh and the metal claw.

But only for a second.

The man screamed and ripped his hands away from the Soul Healer. A gaping wound opened up in her left palm. He then stood up and threw the metal stool at her head, striking a glancing blow. The Soul Healer slumped to the floor.

Sam burst in through the side door to find the prisoner holding his head and screaming and the Soul Healer on the floor, her left hand bleeding profusely.

“You animal!” bellowed Sam. “The Soul Healer is the gentlest creature in the entire galaxy. They do Dream Repair, you idiot!

Sam picked up the prisoner and flung him against the opposite wall of the room. He crumpled up and lay silent.

Sam bent over to look at the injured Soul Healer. He watched in amazement as the deep gash in her palm healed itself. Coagulated blood was absorbed, new tissue flowed into the wound and not the tiniest scar remained. There was also no visible mark on her head where the stool had struck her.

In less than two minutes, the Soul Healer opened her sightless, almond non-eyes, shook herself and with grace and lightness stood up.

“I have your answer, Sam, at least as complete an answer as I can provide.”

The Tygor giant nodded.

“The Gorgons have gone into his brain and altered it in an extraordinary manner. The center where dreams originate, the locus coerulus in the brain stem, has been surgically removed or destroyed, and replaced with a bio-copy. This new locus coerulus is composed of cells cloned from non-nervous system tissue. They have been grown so as to mimic neurons. These fake nerve cells are called phenocopies and have been used to construct copies of synaptic connections and neural circuitry that do not function, have no function. This new locus coerulus is active biochemically but is not nervous tissue. In plain language, this man cannot dream and has no fantasies!”

“Why would the Gorgons want to produce such despair?”

The Soul Healer did not hesitate. “I wonder if they cannot dream and wished to study the process precisely because it is alien to them. In effect, this poor man has no soul, for that is impossible without dreams and fantasies.”

“So that is our glimpse into Andersonville,” whispered Sam.

“Yes.” Tears trickled slowly down the face of the Soul Healer from her almond not-eyes.

“That is not all. This man is not without feeling, in spite of the bio-engineering experiment performed upon him. He... He was overcome with sorrow and compassion at the sight of me. He...even wanted to hold and kiss me. Almost everyone just stares at me and is afraid, like you Sam. You all think I’m a deity, supremely gifted, essential to holding the fabric of space time together and repairing cosmic strings but alien, ugly and repulsive as well..”

The seven foot tall Tygor stared down at his feet.

“I can't help him or us. I deeply wish that I could, but I cannot. Dream Repair is impossible if someone cannot dream at all.”

With a strangely distracted gesture, the Soul Healer wiped the tears from her cheeks and disappeared in a misty, iridescent cloud of purple haze.

Jared Colfax, who was also known in much of the galaxy’s underworld as Father Adler, sat opposite the shimmering purple haze that had just appeared in his study. He had been thinking of Tamar whom he couldn’t love and who was now dead, perhaps because of him. Relationships were a mess, he thought and several centuries of practice didn’t seem to make his own any easier. After obtaining his promise to help in the forthcoming war, Oriana had promptly disappeared. She wasn’t on Kushanah with Astreus, her whereabouts were truly unknown. “This is one woman I truly love”, he mused. “But what kind of love is it? I’m lucky to see and touch the immortal Dacian once every decade. Hardly fulfilling. I’m lonely, he realized. Everybody is afraid of me once again, and I'm alone.”

The purple haze in front of Father Adler took form, coalesced and became, to all appearances, the flesh and blood of the Soul Healer.

By the gods, she is beautiful, he thought. But then all the women I’ve cared for seem to be, even scarred Oriana. He looked into the Soul Healer’s almond not-eyes and she felt beautiful. She loved him for that.

“Feeling sorry for yourself, Jared?” Her voice was soft and sad.

“Oh briefly, yes.”

“You don't known what loneliness is, my friend. I'm the only one of my kind in this entire universe and I cannot return to mine. The Penrose Tunnel through which I emerged seems to have disappeared. I ... I cannot find it.”

To Jared’s amazement, she hung her head.

“Help us while you’re here, Soul Healer. Evil is about to be set loose upon this galaxy. Oriana says so and that is enough for me. My guess is that Evil follows the Gorgons because they have no souls and cannot dream. They dilute the Good and the True, weaken the positive fields in the space time matrix, unravel cosmic strings and Evil flows towards the newly created stress points. Frankly, I’m rather glad you can’t get home.”

"The Hell with you, whispered the Soul Healer. I want to go home.” The Soul Healer sounded infinitely sad, almost like a child. “I've had it with humans in all their endless variety, but infinite sameness. Such schizophrenic force, such love, such cruelty.”

“There are other beings in the universe, Soul Healer.”

“Make love to me, Dacian Lord.” She faced him directly, her not-eyes in line with his. “I can hold this form for as long as I wish. Make love to me, Jared. Part of me will be less lonely for a little while and I will give you exquisite pleasure. Part of me is flesh.”

They went to Jared’s stateroom on the flagship and made love in the opulent bedroom on top of green velvet blankets. Slowly, gently, longingly they made love. The Soul Healer did give Father Adler exquisite pleasure and somewhat to her surprise, he did likewise to her. Most importantly, he held her hands and wrapped her in gentle hugs.

Much later the same day, they were in love.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Evil appeared on a Monday afternoon in the outer arm of a rather large spiral galaxy that was the second largest member of a galactic cluster quixotically named the Local Group. Evil materialized near an old forgotten, now uninhabited, almost mythical planet called Earth, the same planet that provided the soil Father Adler carried in the leather pouch around his neck. Earth was a particularly appropriate place for such an event, for it was sterile due to the hominid nuclear wars of ages past. Had humankind not evolved elsewhere in the galaxy, as well as on this backwater Terran rock, hominid history as we play it might have ended then.