Division Zero: Lex De Mortuis (22 page)

“So, Nila placed a call to a dump phone? That does not make any sense. Maybe I missed something in her head. I put in a request for Lt. Cmdr. Ashford to do a deep dive, make sure I cleaned everything up.”

With fog on the tube, she felt comfortable enough to lean close to look at them. These two Division 9 agents appeared unsettled at the mention of Cmdr. Ashford’s name. Even the high and mighty Nine feared someone noted for mental abilities that strong. The spray ring descended, hitting her from all sides with, hot soapy water. She straightened away from the side, running her hands over herself in rapid swipes to get rid of the sticky residue of dried B-gel. Thankful, for once, there was someone out there scarier than her. Compared to Ashford, she was a fluffy white bunny rabbit everyone wanted to hug.

At the end of the dry cycle, she pushed the tube open without hesitation and walked straight at Operative Castillo. Brushing past him, she retrieved her clothes from the table and got back into uniform. Humiliation was there, but exasperation at their imposition held it down while her infatuation with Operative Castillo punched it in the head. By the time she clicked her belt in place and secured the E-90, she felt calm.

“Dorian wants to kill him. I don’t think he needs that stain on his soul. I’m going to try and find this guy. Ghosts can go places even Division 9 can’t. I
will
bring him in.”

“We cannot guarantee official support on a one-officer manhunt, Agent Wren. Consider sharing any information you obtain.”

“As if you’ll believe me?” She scoffed. “By the time I convince one of you I’ve found him, he’ll have moved. I appreciate you trying to help, but you guys aren’t equipped to deal with someone rated as high as he is in psionic suggestion. Your operatives will be masturbating in the street while he walks away laughing.”

Operative Castillo opened the door for her. “I am sure we can be of more assistance than you think.”

Kirsten halted in the doorway, inches away from him, one eyebrow raised with half a smile.
Maybe you can show me what you mean?
“Thanks. I’ll, let you know if I find anything.”

She walked over to Nicole, the only one there. “What, no party this time?”

“They only throw parties for the first time, and if you almost die.”

“Lucky for me I qualified for both last time.” Kirsten shivered.

“Aww, you just got a little nick on the arm.” She glanced at the two operatives, muttering. “Walking dead man and… oh, hello hotness. Hey, he’s cute.”

The Division 9 operatives went down the hall, in lock step, not glancing back. Kirsten stared after him until they vanished behind the corner of a white wall. “Yeah, but they aren’t going to be much help.”

“With the shooting or with your sex life?” Nicole rubbed her chin.

Kirsten blushed. “Both.”

ot water cascaded in waves over Kirsten’s back. Arm braced against the autoshower wall, she leaned her head against it and sighed as the heat melted the tension out of her body. Her left hand slid up and down the small of her back over where that
thing
had scratched her. Smooth, unhurt skin met her touch. Somehow, the memory of the scratch lingered. She had to keep rubbing the spot to prove to herself it had gone away.

She turned into the spray, squeegeeing the soap out of her hair with her fingers. The spots where bullets hit her had all but vanished. A dark shadow of bruise circled her left bicep, and it hurt to touch it even though it was repaired. The doctor said something about the body not realizing the nanobots had already repaired the tissue, but the discomfort should fade before the bruise.

“Call for you.” Evan’s voice, just outside the tube.

Kirsten whirled, grateful for the fog, gawking at the pajama-colored blur drawing closer to the autoshower.

“Evan! I’m in the tube, tell them I’ll call back.”

Her NetMini hit the outside with a sharp click, and Captain Eze’s holographic head appeared inside the shower after a brief fit of rainbow static. His eyebrows lifted for a fraction of a second, and he turned away, loosing a hearty laugh at the result of a child’s sense of urgency.

Kirsten wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

“Call me when you are done, Wren. I need you to check out a site. There is some urgency, but the event is over.”

“Yes, sir.” Her voice shook more than her hands.

He hung up.

The Evan blur moved away to the door, closing it.

Shit, he broke the blockade.
She pounded the dry cycle button, hoping Theodore did not notice the opportunity.

After donning a new pair of undies from the white box on the wall, she gathered a towel about herself and walked to the main room. Evan sat on the edge of her comforgel pad, kicking his feet in lazy swishes, his face lit blue by the datapad absorbing his attention.

She sat next to him. “Evan?”

He looked up, grinning. Upset as she was, she could not stay mad at that face.

“If someone calls for me, next time can you please just yell through the door?”

“Why?”

Kirsten explained the indelicacies of just walking in on someone in the shower. “Your”―she exhaled, pausing―“mother might have walked around the house with no clothes on all the time, but I’m not like that. It’s not right.”

“She’s not my mom.” He swung his pout back to the datapad, legs still.

“I’m sorry.” She pulled him into a hug that brought his mood back to normal. “You embarrassed the Captain. It’s not proper for him to see me in the shower.”

His arms threaded around her. “He said it was police stuff. Sounded important.”

“Your turn.” She stood, shooing him at the bathroom.

As soon as the whirr of the autoshower kicked in, she finished getting dressed. By the time Evan was out of the bathroom, she pointed at the tiny table where a plate of ̓sem eggs and toast waited.

It felt so strange having more in her cabinets than a dusty, ten-month-old packet of NinNin Instant Noodles.

Dorian stood at the edge of the roof, arms folded, as if he had been watching the sunrise and just kept staring in the same direction after it had come up. The wind howled, though his hair did not move. At the sound of the door opening, he turned. Kirsten staggered as soon as the wind hit her, gathering her hair into a clip as she forced her way through the gale to the car.

When the door whumped shut, she gasped, enjoying the stillness. “Feeling better?”

He materialized out of the passenger seat. “Quite. The thing with the stunrod was rather enjoyable, aside from the problem of you having to bleed to make it work.”

Kirsten shivered and brought the car online. “Well, I seem to be getting a lot of practice lately.”

“You should have shot the man aiming a weapon at you.” He shook his head. “I understand what you wanted to do, but a dead cop can’t save anyone. Prioritize threats, react tactically.”

The car leapt into the air, making her grunt. “There was a little girl in the car behind them, I didn’t even think about the guy shooting at me.”

“Careful, K. Thinking you’d rather die than live with the guilt of wondering if you could have reacted faster, done something different”―he looked her in the eye―“might turn into a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Kirsten picked at the comm panel for a moment in silence.

Dorian held a hand over her arm. “Evan’s different. Every mother should be willing to die for their child.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped. She wanted to say she could not value one child’s life more than another’s, but could not verbalize it when she thought about Evan’s face.

“Wren?” Captain Eze’s head shimmered in over the console. “Am I interrupting?”

“No, sir.” She shook off her emotion and straightened up. “Sorry, I meant to call in… was just caught in a conversation.”

Eze glanced at the empty passenger seat, then back to her. “Spirit?”

She nodded.

“There was an attack at the Lyris Corporation building last night, several fatalities.” Two panels opened, one on either side of his head, with security video. “The attackers walked through gunfire as though it wasn’t there.”

“Combat synthetics?” She blinked as Seneschal and Icarus walked into view on the left screen. “How… They’re on camera, how is that possible?”

“There’s been photographic evidence of spirits for centuries,” said Dorian.

She leaned close to the screen. “Yeah, but they
look real
, not like ghosts.”

“You know them?” Eze’s right eyebrow crept upward.

“It’s related to the blackout trail, I think. Abyssals. Those men are dead.”

Captain Eze glanced about as if searching the archives of his memory for meaning. His face took on a grim stare after a few seconds. “You had better get over there soon.”

“On my way, sir.”

Kirsten punched in a NavMap pin for the Lyris building and spent the ride peeking at the security vids on loop. The two abyssals had, it seemed, taken on solid form and marched straight into the lobby. When security attempted to stop them, Seneschal shot them. She cringed at the confirmation of her fear from the PubTran platform; their bullets
could
hurt living people. Other camera views spliced in as they moved deeper into the facility. Seneschal took the lead, shooting anyone who dared show themselves in the hallway. Icarus watched the rear, firing on a few security guards attempting to chase.

Bullets passed through them, dots of light winking as the slugs hit without effect. A second after the shot, their clothing mended as if nothing happened. Halfway through the feed, the Lyris guards got the hint and disengaged, fleeing in terror. Lights flickered and died as the abyssals went past, employees cowered under desks and in closets. Finally, they arrived at an office that appeared to be their objective. Seneschal kicked in the door, vanishing out of sight of any cam. Kirsten stopped play, backed up a dozen frames, and traced a square with her finger through the terminal. A tug at the corners of the glowing box magnified the image of a nameplate.

Greyson Kendrick

Director, Issue Resolution and Problem Management.

Kirsten leaned back, wiped her face with both hands, and resumed active control of the patrol craft. “I guess he had a labor dispute with his boss.”