Division Zero: Thrall (5 page)

“The way I see it, the company is at least fifty percent complicit in his death, as well as the deaths of six or seven security personnel. I’m well aware Ancora strives to maintain a reputation as a squeaky-clean corporation that cares. I’m sure the NewsNet will devour a story about a fatal compulsory camping trip.”

The CEO reeled as if slapped. “You’re dangerously close to libel, Miss”―he peered at her chest― “Wren.”

“Oh, I’m not going to talk to the press. I’m not permitted to discuss specific cases with them. However, I will be filing a request with CIB, that’s Corporate Investigations Bureau by the way, to begin an inquest regarding the deaths. Those investigations are a matter of public record and any reporter digging for dirt on corporations might―”

“Alright.” He held his hand up. “What is it you want?”

“I was thinking you provide one and a half times Mr. Alvarez’s salary to his wife until the day his youngest daughter turns eighteen or until his wife obtains employment sufficient to provide for her family without needing a stipend. Do that, and I might lose my report to CIB.” She started to walk away, but paused. “Oh, by the way, I’d recommend against any more camping trips out there… or at least make it genuinely optional.”

Freeh’s rapid mental math seemed to factor her request far less damaging than a potential media scandal. “Done.”

“What now?” asked Dave.

Kirsten shook hands with Freeh and walked back to her car. “Go home, be with them. When the stipend starts, you might feel a release from this world. Trust the light.”

“Thank you.” He tried to hold her hand.

She made herself solid to spirits and let him. “Behave yourself. Don’t make me regret being a softie.”

“I won’t. Thank you!” David floated off.

“Damn shame,” said a Division 1 officer near the row of cars. “Waste of such a pretty girl.”

Kirsten whirled, her building snarl fading when she realized they weren’t talking about her being psionic.

“Yeah.” His partner let out a long, slow sigh with a weak shake of his head. “Who the hell does a thing like that?”

“What happened?” she asked, moving closer.

They looked up.

“Squad mate just found a dead woman a few sectors south. Just listening to the comm. chatter go by.” He held up his forearm guard, projecting an image of an alley filled with crime scene techs and patrol officers. A nude body lay half under a police blanket. The victim appeared to be in her mid-twenties.

Kirsten cringed. “She doesn’t look like a prostitute. Too healthy. Well, except for being dead. Any weird stuff going on?”

“Nothing anyone reported. We’ll call you if something happens.”

“Great, thanks.”

The squad room was dim when she walked in, lit only by excess light from Captain Eze’s office. She knocked at the door, earning a wave-in once he saw her.

“That took longer than expected.” He smiled, nodding at the couch where Evan slept.

“Sorry, there were so many witnesses to interview. Their tech people grilled me like a slab of salmon. Thanks for watching him.”

“You are most welcome. He was no trouble at all, though he’s been trying to talk to you in his sleep.”

Kirsten smiled. “He’s one of a kind, though I’m sure he’ll have a bratty moment eventually.”

She tossed his backpack over one shoulder before scooping him up. He whined in his sleep, cuddling into her at the disturbance of being moved.

“You don’t have to wake up.” She kissed him on the forehead.

“Mom?” He mumbled, somewhere between asleep and not. “You should break Konstantin’s heart.”

She blinked, staring at him for a moment. The statement, mean as it sounded, came with no malice in his voice or on his cherubic face. Kirsten shot Eze a look of bewilderment. Evan’s hint of consciousness faded as fast as it manifested, leaving him deep asleep once more.

“He’s probably feeling jealous.” Eze winked. “Talk it over with him when he wakes up. Heck, the kind of money that man has… I’m almost jealous.”

She chuckled and cradled Evan close enough to whisper into his ear. “I don’t care how rich he is, kiddo. You are the most important person in my life.”

A trace of a smile curled his lip.

mid the din of a hundred and change sugared-up children, Evan all but dragged Shani by the arm. In his left hand, a flashing plastic box attempted to make the sound of a thunderstorm. The miniature cacophony was lost to the abject chaos of Sector D, originally a chain of kid-tainment places known as Funzones until they got bought out. Evan, being nine, ducked around the crowd, taking advantage of any spaces or gaps.

Be careful!

He spun as Kirsten’s voice entered his mind. She was a few paces behind him in the crowd, alarmed at his sudden departure from the table.

My turn’s up.
He waved the flashing box.

Soon the two kids squeezed between bored adults watching a hopelessly uncoordinated boy fail at a gripper claw game. Evan approached an attendant manning the Monwyn the Magnificent sim and stood on tiptoe to hand back the flashing pager. He looked over his shoulder, bouncing, waiting for Kirsten to catch up. Catching sight of the miserable older boy, Evan nudged Shani and pointed.

She gave him a confused look for a second, and grinned. As soon as the boy turned away in defeat, the toy cyborg figure he had been going for flipped out of the pile, seemingly of its own volition, and fell into the exit chute. At the sound of the
thunk
, the boy whirled to find the toy in arm’s reach, and cheered.

“Okay, kid. You got a half hour.”

Evan looked up at the high school-aged attendant in an ill-fitting uniform, and smirked. He wanted to protest the meager time ration, but it would only waste what he had. “Okay.”

“You know how to work the―”

“Duh.” Evan raced past the operator’s station to a cluster of four pods.

Only one was empty. Inside, two bench seats faced each other, with a pair of wire-laden helmets on each side. Evan took one and sat where it had been. Shani followed, sitting next to him. She frowned at the giant helmet, before giving him an unenthused look.

“Never used a helmet before?”

“No.” Shani put it on. “Just the visor at home.”

“This is different than just watching.” Evan leaned over and slid the apparatus down over her head. “It talks to your brain. It’s like we’re really there.”

“Is it gonna hurt?”

“I fell out of a chair once,” he said, donning his own helmet. “It was pretty cool. Just close your eyes and let it sync.”

Evan settled into the uncomfortable plastic seat, letting the weight of the Senshelmet drag his head against the pad behind it. A tingle of energy spread through his mind. A digitized female voice spoke the word “synchronizing.”

When he felt cold stone under his bare feet, he opened his eyes. The vision was disorienting, he appeared not to have a body at all, and stood at the center of a ring of figures from the Monwyn movies. Faint theme music played in the background. Without a second’s hesitation, he pointed at the man himself. As soon as the subsequent flare of brightness faded, Evan found himself on a dirt path deep within the mythical forest of Cymril. The thick blue robes, black boots, and fiery staff of Monwyn the Magnificent replaced his ordinary clothes.

Monwyn the Small, as he was still no bigger than Evan normally was, tapped his foot. Within a minute, a flare of radiance glimmered in at his side. Shani, now in the garb of Asara the Huntress, faded in. She leaned forward to appraise the leather skirt, knee-high sandals, and longbow in her left hand. The girl spent a minute making odd faces as she felt her pointed ears.

“This sucks.” She tried to swing it like a bat. “You get a flaming dragon-staff and I get a twig?”

“Really? You don’t know what a bow is?”

“It doesn’t have a string,” she said, adopting an exasperated stance with the bow draped over her hand.

“Asara has a magic bow. When you go to shoot something, it makes arrows out of nothing.”

She held it as if to fire and, sure enough, an arrow appeared.

“Wow, this is scary. It’s so real.” Shani spun in place, holding her hand out in the breeze. “If we get hurt, does it hurt?”

He shook his head. “Monwyn feels no pain. The fangs of darkness shall not dissuade him from―”

The look on her face stalled him.

“It tingles a little, and you’ll see numbers that tell you how much damage you took, but it doesn’t hurt.”

Evan started down the road, with Shani wandering after him. Her curious gazing affected her speed, and he stopped every so often to let her catch up. Not quite ten minutes later, a loud twig snap came from the foliage.

“What was that?” Shani ran up to him. “Did you hear that?”

“Random encou”―he coughed― “Most likely the foul beasts that taint this forest with their unclean presence seek to stop our quest!”

Shani gave him another unimpressed look. Two creatures shambled out of the trees, both about six feet tall and covered in black fur. Their faces were somewhere between canine and ape, with glowing yellow eyes and sharpened fangs. Elongated arms carried a pair of wicked-looking blades spattered with old, dried blood. The beast-men leaned forward, roaring at them.

She screamed.

Evan broke character. “Hey, relax… It’s a video game.”

Her terrified look lingered for another second before she glared.

“We can stop if you want. Maybe you’re too little for this game.”

Her cheeks reddened. “No, it’s okay.”

Shani swiped her hand through the air behind the bow, groping for a nonexistent string. When she released it, a glimmering magic arrow flew into the chest of the creature on the right. Above its head, the number “44” appeared, large and red.

“Nice critical!” cheered Evan.

The creature she shot ran at her while the other went for him. Evan chanted, holding the staff sideways with both hands. Lightning crackled off the end, lapping at the one going for Shani. A waterfall of small blue numbers sprinkled into the air ranging from eleven through eighteen. His damage fell short of killing it before it got close enough to swing. The size of the creature scared the girl despite her knowledge it wasn’t real. She cringed, screaming with closed eyes.