Division Zero: Lex De Mortuis (25 page)

he patrol craft came in low over traffic, four or five feet above cars that had skewed into collisions with posts, vendomats, and parked vehicles. Kirsten drifted along just past a jogger’s pace, studying broken glass, skid marks, and blood.

On the primary windscreen, the computer inserted neon lines of green and yellow resolving the flight path of bullets it extrapolated to be responsible for several holes in the surrounding environment. The results of her scan corroborated the witness accounts of the unbelievable. Two cars, driverless, had raced down the street. Citizens heard gunshots and got showered with debris, but saw no guns―or people using them.

The citycam recording, open in a side panel display, showed the chase from an elevated view. A small green car weaved through traffic, empty, and sometimes using the sidewalks to get around logjams and red lights.

Behind it, an ordinary mid-sized passenger sedan fought its way through a river of cars, frantic to get away from the gunfire. Like the people, the citywide surveillance network had picked up the sound of automatic weapons fire. Commuters crashed into anything they could to get away as the backs of their cars disintegrated amid a hail of unseen bullets. She wondered if any of them even noticed at the time what shot at them.

According to the map, the chase had persisted a little over seven miles. She accelerated and climbed. Six miles later, the smoldering ruin of the sedan melted into the street. The Division 1 patrol craft that had lasered it in half was parked nearby. She slowed to a floating halt before dropping into a vertical landing next to the officers.

“Morning. Got anything on the car?”

They both saluted. A short woman with skin the color of creamed coffee lifted a gold-tinted visor. Early morning sunlight streaked parts of her blue armor with white glare as she moved up to the window. “It was reported stolen by its owner, but they had no description of the thief. We arrived on scene during the roving gunfight, the car ignored three warnings, so we hit it with the Starburst.”

Kirsten eyed the bulge on the roof of their car, just behind the passenger seat. “Nice shot, Sergeant, right in half.”

“I was driving; Simms took the shot.”

The other officer nodded.

“We found no one in it, but the car smelled of propellant. Someone was definitely firing weapons inside it. I have no idea how the hell we missed them, or how the frick they got away from this without being injured.”

“Uhh, Sarge?” Simms looked up from a datapad. “I’m going back over the scanner recordings during the pursuit.”

Both women looked at him with expectant faces.

“The car was empty the whole time.” He scratched his helmet. “Think a hacker got into the Navcomp?”

“I could answer that for you, but I don’t want you to take up heavy drinking.” Kirsten smiled.

“Hit me.” Sergeant Summers radiated confidence.

“Ghosts.”

To Kirsten’s surprise, the patrol sergeant did not seem rattled or even look at her as if she was crazy. “Ghosts?” She shook her head. “You don’t think it was a hacker?”

“Unless he could hack the stink of ballistic propellant into the car.”

Officer Simms went quietly back to his car.

Sgt. Summers pondered, and nodded. “That’s a good point. Well, go do what you Zeroes do then.” Sergeant Summers smiled as she looked off into space while the buzz of radio chatter filled her helmet.

A rush of camaraderie washed over Kirsten, and she returned the smile. It was amazing to feel like part of a team and not some freak on the outside.

“Agent. We’re getting reports of gunfire at Prospect Mall, just down the street where the other car crashed, they’re asking for you.”

“Crap, they’re still here. Sergeant, have them evac the mall.”

“Already―”

Kirsten twisted the sticks and accelerated, staying on the ground. The mall was only a few blocks away and Division 1 had it blocked off from traffic. It would take longer to transition between hover and ground mode than just drive, so she just gunned it. After weaving through the debris left in the wake of the chase, she hung a squealing left turn onto the approach ramp for Prospect Mall. Black streaks on the charcoal-hued traction coating led over the incline, stopped abruptly at the top, and resumed about twenty feet later. Ahead, the tiny green car lay in a crumpled, smoking ruin; smashed into the shopping plaza wall at the end of the squiggly trails.

Two dozen patrol officers milled around a row of blue-and-white patrol craft; the entire area was aglow with shimmering bar lights. A sizeable crowd, perhaps a hundred and a half people, pressed into the police line with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. Kirsten squawked the siren, parting the crowd, and pulled up to the barricade.

As soon as her door opened, gunfire erupted inside.

“Corporal.” Kirsten approached the closest man in blue. “Let whoever is in command of this squad know to keep their men out of the mall. There are paranormal entities involved, I don’t care if you believe me or not, no one goes in.”

Not waiting for the reply, she grasped the handle of her stunrod to keep it from bouncing into her leg and took the long stairway to the mall’s front entrance two steps at a time. Four capsule elevators flanked the door, continuing to glide up and down along their tracks despite being empty. Automatic glass doors slid out of her way as she ran inside, closing through Dorian. The entire inside area was devoid of people, lending eeriness to the building dread she felt at dealing with these beings.

Even Dorian had a look of concern; these things were strong enough to obliterate him.

She halted at a three-way intersection packed with stores and kiosks. “If you’re still feeling weak…”

Two dozen advert droids whirled to face her. Kirsten imagined yellow exclamation points above them a second before they all descended upon the only living person in the mall.

“No way in hell I’m leaving you alone in here.” He pointed northeast. “That way.”

“Gah!” she cried, swatting at the evasive floating nuisances. “Stupid bots.”

Kirsten, trailing a cloud of commercialism, jogged to the end of the concourse toward voices emanating from the other side. A silver-tiled column just outside a holovid shop provided some cover. One eye peeked around the edge as her E-90 leaned around the corner. Icarus and Seneschal stood with their backs facing her, about twenty paces from the corner. They flanked a fountain made of fiberoptic line and glass dolphins, frolicking in a rainbow of light and water. Two more passages packed with shops forked off on the far side of the glowing installation.

Icarus squinted into the distance. “I got nothin’, we lost him.”

Seneschal growled low in his throat. He swung a compact assault rifle past rows of shops. “I can still smell him. We wait here for Mariko to flush him out.”

Kirsten lifted her weapon, aiming at Seneschal’s back. Once the glowing sights lined up, blue dot inside blue ring, she called out. “Seneschal, Icarus, hold it right there.”

“Smooth. What do you intend to do, haul them downtown?” Dorian shook his head, and ran into the wall.

They turned. She fired. Ad-bots scattered in an eruption of shimmering plastisteel and glowing holograms.

The streak of azure energy passed through Seneschal’s back. His body collapsed inward at the point of contact, as if molded from wet sand. The brief pulse twisted through him as he whirled, leaving a narrow trench with the glow of embers along the edge. Black smoke exuded from both sides. For an instant, he reacted with alarm, which gave way to anger. Unlike bullets, the energy weapon could hurt him.

She lined up another shot, but aborted it as Icarus sprayed the corner, rolling behind cover with her back pressed into the wall. Kirsten suppressed the urge to scream as flakes of silvery tile shattered and popped around her, a rain of ceramic bits falling on her head. Bullet holes offered a weak view of the two abyssals; like any modern slug, their attack had gone right through the two-foot square column.

Oh, shit.

Kirsten edged to her left in case he fired again.

“Stay out of our way. This does not concern you,” growled Seneschal. “You are clueless. If I see you again, I
will
kill you.”

The E-90 rested warm against her shoulder as she clutched it with both hands. “It’s not so simple,” she yelled. “You don’t belong here, and I will not allow you to hurt the innocent on a demented mission of vengeance.”

“Innocent?” Icarus joined in, half chuckling. “There’s no such thing as innocent.”

“Look, I’m sorry you died.” She crouched, peering through the lowest bullet hole at them. “That doesn’t change the fact I have to send you back where you belong.”

“Oh, listen to this one, Ic.” Seneschal’s laugh raked down her spine, cold as a torrent of icicles. “She wants to play.” He whirled with a flare of his coat and strode toward the corner, unconcerned that she might shoot him.

Kirsten backed off and stuck the E-90 into its holster. When Seneschal rounded the holed column, his eyes shot as wide as his skull would allow. Half of Kirsten’s body glowed with the blue-white purity of the lash; her eyes flared the same hue. As soon as he was in view, she snapped the tendril through him.

Her face twisted with determination as she growled. The astral lash caught in his chest, plumes of ebon vapor boiling out from the point of contact. Seneschal howled, knocked to a knee by the pain of it. She leaned her weight into the ethereal cord and tore it loose. A great blast of heat and blackness poured through a fluttery, gaping hole in Seneschal’s chest.

The look of abject fear on his face was unmistakable.

“Tag. You’re it.” She winked.

Sounds of a fight came from the other side of the column. Icarus yelled in surprise, followed by the scuffing of boots and the dull thud of body blows. Dorian grunted, then a heavy slam. She imagined him judo flipping Icarus to the ground, or maybe it was Dorian going down. Punching noises continued amid growls of pain and anger from both sides. She could not worry about that right now. Before Seneschal could recover from the shock of the first hit, she swiped the whip across his chest a second time.

It hit him with the force of a truck, knocking him six feet airborne. He hit the ground on his chest, sliding, leaving a trail of black ichor over the polished white floor. Kirsten ran after him, winding the lash behind her for an overhead strike. As she brought it down, Seneschal dissipated into a cloud of dark fog, and her strike found no resistance.

The sheet of vapor sucked itself into a vertical column and coalesced behind her. Seneschal cracked her across the back of the head with the stock of his rifle before she could turn. It felt less than solid, as if made of inflexible rubber rather than metal. Dazed, she stumbled forward and fell to her knees. Behind her somewhere, Dorian gurgled.

“Man, pity they don’t teach pigs how to fight worth a da―”

Icarus’s taunt cut off with an “
oof
.” Kirsten rolled to her side, startled out of her daze by the rattle of a weapon as Seneschal aimed at her back. Her eyes focused past him for a split second; a fist in Icarus’s gut lifted him inches off the ground. The demonic mercenary fell on his back, Dorian pounced.

Kirsten rolled to the side. Seneschal’s weapon chattered. Floor coating stripped away to bare concrete in chunks. Sprawled on the ground, she had nowhere to hide. With no other option, she swallowed her fear and reached out with her mind, grasping at his essence. Her arms shook from the effort as she fought him. Seneschal roared as he strained to pivot the gun at her again. Psionic energy welled out of her with such intensity a shroud of luminous vapor burst out of her hand, a transparent firelike glow crawling up her arm to the elbow. She pushed him back, working her way to her feet as the battle of wills went back and forth.

“You…” Seneschal took a step back, grunting, struggling. Grey eyes dilated; fear and anger sparred within.

Icarus rolled out from the hold, sweeping Dorian’s legs and dropping him hard on his back. Dorian sprang up, his three quick punches deflected with ease. Kirsten screamed, face reddening with determination as the strange fire crept over her shoulders and down the other arm. Her hands flared as she thrust them forward at Seneschal, the phantom light vanished in an intense flash. He sailed airborne, flying backwards into the tile-covered column. He crunched into it, and slid to the ground in a fall of silver ceramic chips. She ran in, taking advantage of his disorientation to rake the astral lash through him again.

Seneschal’s roar broke all the windows within fifty yards.

Dorian attacked Icarus again; the former covert operative leaned to the side and caught him in the shoulder with a knife as he went by. Wisps of energy drifted from a slice that sealed within seconds. Icarus lunged, stabbing him twice more for three tries. Her partner was weakening.

Kirsten fixed her eyes on Seneschal, who appeared drained to the point of near-delirium. He looked less real; his eyes had taken on a soft crimson glow. Thick shadowy darkness leaked from his body, pooling around his legs where he knelt at the base of the smashed column.

She called them.