The Shadow Fixer

by Matthew S. Cox

  She stepped out into a large room containing storage shelves holding various things like air filters, fuses, and mechanical parts she didn’t recognize, likely replacement components for larger machines. Lockers and worktables lined the wall on the right, more storage cabinets to the left. Two corridors led away from the storage room, one going straight ahead from the elevator, the other to the left.

  Kirsten crossed the room, heading for the corridor straight ahead.

  A man in dark blue coveralls came wandering around the end of the shelf. He gasped, jumping back at the sight of her. When he sucked in a breath to yell, a metal component the size of a shoebox flew from the shelf beside him and bounced off his face. He staggered backward, grabbing his nose. The component floated in the air next to him as if waiting for the hand to get out of its way so it could bonk him again.

  Kirsten gestured at Nicole to wait. The instant the man looked at her again, she said, “Quiet.”

  He opened his mouth in a mime of shouting, not making a sound… then paused, seeming confused.

  “Do you know what’s going on down here?” asked Kirsten.

  While the guy silently talked, she scanned his surface thoughts, finding no knowledge his employer arranged the kidnapping of a teenage girl, merely an ordinary maintenance worker with clearance to work down here in the secure lab area. She concentrated on his mind, attempting a deeper-than-usual Suggestion implant. Usually, she employed short, verbal commands. More complicated compulsions, she’d only done a few times in a test setting at the PAC. Instead of speaking the command, she concentrated on the notion he should forget seeing them and go take his lunch break. She held the thought at the tip of her brain, pressing it into his consciousness until she sensed it take hold.

  Of course, in an hour or two, he’d totally realize he’d been compelled. By then, it wouldn’t matter.

  The man walked off to the elevator.

  A tingle spread over her brain from Nicole’s telepathy. Wow, nice. It worked! You really go out of your way not to hurt people. I like that about you. Me? I’d have knocked him out. She levitated the component back to the shelf.

  Trying to be quiet. Kirsten started toward the hall, waving at her in a ‘c’mon, follow me’ gesture.

  They rushed down a plain plastisteel corridor to the first intersection. Kirsten slid to a stop against the wall on the right side, peering around the corner at an empty hallway. She eyed the next intersection where she needed to turn left.

  Once she felt reasonably safe no one was coming, she scooted around the corner and fast-walked. Three steps later, she paused at the sudden appearance of a woman in black body armor coming out of a doorway on the right side about thirty feet ahead. The corporate soldier appeared not to have noticed Kirsten and Nicole, as she smoothly cornered out of the door and strolled away from them, no hesitation.

  Kirsten glanced at Nicole. Cover the room. I’ll get her.

  Nicole gave a thumbs-up.

  Kirsten attempted to sneak up behind the armored woman.

  Unfortunately, the clicking of Nicole’s ‘cute boots’ on the plastisteel floor made the issue resolution woman pause to peer behind her—right at them.

  “Drat,” whispered Nicole. She reached both hands forward in a grabbing gesture.

  Feeling stuck with no time to think of anything else, Kirsten fixated on the sense of the woman’s consciousness and hammered it with a barrage of random, erratic sensory information. The Mind Blast knocked the woman senseless the same instant she flew forward, crashing to the floor as though she’d been tackled from behind. Hard body armor slid easily on bare plastisteel as Nicole dragged her up to them.

  “Ngh,” moaned the woman. “Baa… tru… larm.”

  “Ooh, you hit her over the head with the giant squeaky hammer, didn’t you?” whispered Nicole.

  Kirsten blinked at her, stunned anyone would refer to Mind Blast as a ‘giant squeaky hammer.’

  As practiced as any Division 1 patrol officer, Nicole disarmed the woman of a combat rifle, handgun, and two knives—both vibro-blades. Since the corporate soldier obligingly carried a small pack of plastic riot binders, Nicole hogtied her.

  “How long is she going to be out of her head?”

  Kirsten bit her lip. The quick spur-of-the-moment Mind Blast amounted to the mental equivalent of a rabbit punch. While it most likely wouldn’t leave any lasting effects, the disorientation would only pacify the woman for about five minutes. “Not long. Three to ten minutes.”

  “Can you hit her again?”

  “I could, but it could mess her up for a while if I hit her too hard.”

  “She kidnapped an innocent kid,” deadpanned Nicole. “Does it really bother you if she has a headache for two weeks? Better than shooting her.”

  “Well, when you put it like that…” Kirsten shrugged.

  Nicole made a silly face. “Better than me knocking her out. A hard enough hit to the head from Telekinesis will cause a concussion.”

  Another, slightly more forceful Mind Blast stopped the woman’s babbling and left her drooling. Nicole and Kirsten grabbed her by the arms and dragged her into the room she came from. They entered a squad room style area with two cafeteria-style tables, six bunk beds, and a row of vendomats along the opposite wall. Two men and another woman in the same black body armor sat at one of the tables, playing some manner of holographic board game.

  They all looked up at Kirsten and Nicole dragging their drooling, hog-tied associate in.

  “So much for quiet,” whispered Nicole. “I think we got noticed.”

  Kirsten stared at the man on the left. “Hug the floor!”

  The other two gasped in fear.

  While one man dove to the floor, the other two scrambled to collect combat rifles off the table in front of them and get up.

  Both rifles leapt out of their hands, flew a couple feet, and hit the floor, sliding over to Nicole.

  “Damn. I don’t have a body cam on. Can’t put them on my Wall of Derp.”

  “What the fuck?” the woman went for her handgun, staring at Kirsten in terror.

  The remaining man sprouted a pair of twelve-inch metal blades from each hand, cybernetic claws concealed in his forearms. Nicole grunted. The woman drew the handgun, aiming at Kirsten.

  “Drop it!” Kirsten’s eyes flared white.

  Like a horrible glitch in a video game, the man’s legs blurred rapidly, but he didn’t go anywhere.

  The woman’s fingers snapped open, releasing the handgun, which fell straight to the floor beside her.

  “Problem!” said Nicole. “He’s got speedware and vibro-claws.”

  At the mention of vibro-claws, all the muscles in Kirsten’s back tensed in fear. The only thing she dreaded more than Evan getting hurt was losing limbs to extremely sharp blades. More technically correct, she irrationally dreaded the idea of cybernetic replacements, even though as an active-duty officer, Division 0 would have no problem covering the cost of tissue regeneration.

  Still, vibro-claws tweaked her panic button.

  Kirsten clenched her jaw to contain a scream part war cry part fear, and unloaded a Mind Blast on the augmented corporate soldier. The amount of energy she put into it felt as though her brain squeezed out one eye socket and went flying like a bullet, leaving her with a dull headache. He lapsed into a convulsing, twitching fit, held upright in midair by Nicole’s telekinetic grip. His speedware went crazy, struggling to interpret the scrambled signals coming from his brain, making his arms and legs flail about too rapidly to see them. When he at last went still four seconds later, Nicole dropped him in a heap, scrunching her nose.

  “I think he shit himself.”

  Kirsten cringed, feeling a touch guilty. “Probably did. Brain loses all control of everything with a slam that hard.” She pulled her E-90 out and pointed it generally at the two remaining corporate soldiers. “Don’t move.”

  The woman stared at her, thinking various things like ‘oh, shit, a fucking psio. I’m
dead.’ Or ‘I hate psio freaks.’

  Kirsten frowned at her. “Get down.”

  Dorian and Wilbert sank into the room from the ceiling.

  “Perfect timing.” Kirsten wagged her E-90 at the man. “Mind killing their weapons’ battery packs.”

  “On it.” Dorian raised a hand.

  Faint beeps came from all three corporate soldiers.

  Nicole ran over and secured the woman in zip ties. Kirsten couldn’t hogtie the man since his legs refused to bend up enough, so she merely secured his ankles together.

  “How long’s the aug gonna be out?” asked Nicole.

  “Couple hours. I’m a little phobic of vibro-blades. Might have hit him slightly too hard.”

  Wilbert pointed at the wall. “There are two men in a small area in front of the last corridor. I’m a bit drained, but I can try to possess one of them.”

  “If you’re feeling weak, don’t worry about it.” Kirsten walked out of the IGT’s squad room. “Let me guess, those two guys ahead of us have the button to fry the room?”

  “Yes. It’s on the desk.”

  “Dead man switch?” asked Dorian.

  “Dead teen girl switch more like.” Wilbert looked down, guilt all over his face.

  “No, I mean if it loses power, will it activate?”

  Wilbert shrugged at Dorian. “I don’t know.”

  “Nope,” called Nicole. “This woman doesn’t think so. And thank your ghost friend for messing up their communications. She’s trying to warn the other two guys, but her headware isn’t working.”

  “I shut off the comm channel,” said Wilbert. “As soon as she figures it out, she’ll call them on a personal line.”

  Kirsten ran back into the squad room, grabbed the woman by the hair, and forced her to make eye contact. “Do nothing.”

  The woman stared vacantly into nowhere.

  “Okay. Let’s go!” Kirsten dropped the woman’s head—her cheek hit the metal floor with a smack—and ran out into the corridor.

  She zoomed to the intersection and went left, continuing past doors marked only with numeric codes. When she reached a four-way intersection, she ignored it, continuing straight. Another sixty meters later, she slowed to a silent creep, approaching a leftward corner and leaning against the wall, E-90 held up in both hands. Nicole scooted up behind her.

  Dorian walked around the corner. “Two guys up ahead playing video games on their ’Minis. I’d have no trouble just shooting them since they’re ready to murder an innocent kid as soon as someone tells them to push a button, but I know you are squeamish about it. So… give me a moment to kill their weapons.”

  “Thanks,” whispered Kirsten.

  “What?” asked Nicole.

  “Who’s there?” called a man.

  Nicole leapt past Kirsten, whirling around the corner, her E-86 raised. “Police, Division 0. Drop your weapons.”

  “Fuck!” yelled a guy.

  A dark green laser beam flickered from Nicole’s weapon. A male voice screamed in pain.

  “What the f—?”

  Nicole fired again. Another man screamed.

  Kirsten leaned past the corner, aiming her E-90 down the corridor at a small, square security checkpoint where the hallway widened into a tiny room for a short span. One guy in black body armor rolled around on the floor, clutching his right thigh. Another man staggered, left hand clamped over a smoking hole in his right shoulder.

  “It seems these two fine gentleman had a weapons malfunction.” Dorian smiled.

  Kirsten Mind Blasted them one after the next, knocking them senseless. The beginning of a headache swirled around the back of her brain.

  “I really don’t get it.” Nicole jogged toward the men.

  Kirsten followed. “Get what?”

  “Why so many people are so afraid of mind blasters. You’re like the soft and fuzzy version of combat psionics. Knock people out of commission without hurting them. I’d be way more afraid of a pyro than a mind blaster.” Nicole got started putting zip ties on one guy.

  Kirsten took a knee by the other man and secured his wrists behind his back. “It’s because of people like Commander Ashford. If someone develops Mind Blast powerful enough, they can permanently wipe out a brain. Throws someone mentally back to infancy, every trace of who they were, gone.”

  “Okay, that’s kinda scary.”

  “But it’s rare. Very few people with Mind Blast can do it… but no one stops to think about it. They just hear the two bad words and think we’ll erase them if they spill coffee on us or something. Also, Mind Blast doesn’t care about body armor. Pyros still have to burn through it.”

  “Idiots.” Nicole stood, looking around. “Okay, where’s the kid? I don’t see any doors here.”

  “Down there.” Wilbert pointed at another hallway leading away from the small room.

  Kirsten rushed into a corridor lined with red, green, and black pipes. Dozens of electrical cables hung from mounts on the ceiling. This didn’t look like a place people generally went to unless they had to fix something smelly, wet, or full of high voltage. The passageway ran maybe forty meters to a dead end of metal cabinets loaded with buttons, meters, and valves.

  “There’s nothing here. No doors.”

  Wilbert strode past her. “Little bit down on the left. She’s in a chamber. The door is partially hidden behind all the pipes.”

  He stopped a little less than halfway down and phased through the wall. Kirsten walked over to the spot, examining the plastisteel. It took her a moment, but she spotted a likely seam for a door easily mistaken for a simple gap between different metal plates.

  “Electric motors in the walls.” Dorian stuck his arm into the door. “Should be able to open it bypassing the circuitry and giving the motor itself some power.”

  Wilbert’s head stuck out of the wall. “Bomb’s safe. I killed the battery.”

  A rectangular section of wall sank inward an inch, then slid to the left, revealing a doorway. The various pipes running the length of the corridor obscured the upper third of the opening. Kirsten ducked under them, peering into a tiny chamber. Kena Carlin sat on a cot tucked into the distant left corner, wearing a man’s white T-shirt as a dress, her left arm stretched out to the side, dangling from a pair of metal binders, the other end locked around a vertical pipe against the wall. A small food reassembler sat on a shelf by the pipe. The opposite corner from the cot held a metal sink-toilet combo. An autoshower tube stood in the near corner on Kirsten’s right.

  The teen didn’t appear hurt, though she mostly hid her face behind her knees, trembling visibly. The restraint allowed her just enough freedom of motion to reach the toilet and food reassembler, but not the autoshower or the door out of the room.

  Overjoyed to find the girl unhurt, Kirsten scooted into the cramped chamber. “Kena?”

  The girl pressed herself back into the wall. “Go away! Leave me alone!”

  “My name is Kirsten. The woman behind me is Nicole. We’re the police, Division 0. We’re here to take you home.”

  Kena glanced at Nicole, then back to Kirsten. “You guys don’t look like cops, and there’s no way the police would even know where I am. Nice try.”

  “We needed to go undercover because we didn’t want the people who took you to see us coming and hurt you.” Kirsten examined the binders. Standard electronic ones, military grade, but not from the same manufacturer the NPF used. The girl had such a delicate wrist her captors had closed it all the way. She frowned at them and gave Dorian a ‘would you please?’ look.

  He squinted. Tiny sparks crackled over the metal. A faint whirr came from the motor and the end around her wrist popped open; the binders fell off her, clattering against the pipe.

  “Holy crap!” Kena yanked her arm back against her chest, rubbing the red mark the binders left. “How did you do that?”

  “I’m surprised you aren’t asking how we found you.” Nicole ducked in under the pipes. “What kind of idiot designs a door h
alf covered by water and sewer lines?”

  Dorian smiled at her. “One who doesn’t want anyone to think there’s a room here.”

  “What he said.” Kirsten gestured at him.

  “Huh?” Nicole blinked. “Whatever. Wow. Tiny room. Why the hell does a corporation have a hidden prison cell in their sub-basement?”

  “I believe it’s more of a panic room intended for VIPs to hide in.” Wilbert gestured at a button on the wall. “She could have easily opened the door if she wasn’t chained to the pipe.”

  Kirsten repeated what the ghost said.

  Nicole twisted to her right, peering at the shower and obvious red ‘open’ button. “Oh. Yeah. Okay. Panic room.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. I’ve pretty much been panicking the whole time I’ve been in here.” Kena shifted her legs to one side and sat up. “You guys are seriously cops?”

  Kirsten pulled out her NetMini, brought up her ID—which had a photo of her in uniform—and held it up so the girl could see it. “Yes. Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?”

  “My wrist is sore and I feel dizzy. I remember like sleepwalking or something outside. Men grabbed me. One guy stuck me in the neck and I woke up here.”

  The girl’s surface thoughts didn’t contain memories of anything worse than someone pressing a stimpak-like autoinjector into the side of her neck.

  “Comm.” Kirsten held her NetMini up. “Captain Eze.”

  Ten seconds later, he appeared on the holo-panel. His dark, bald head bore a sheen of nervous sweat.

  “We found her. She’s secure. Go ahead and kick down the doors,” said Kirsten.

  “Cry havoc and let loose the hounds of war,” shouted Nicole. “Or at least Division 1.”

  Captain Eze leaned back in his chair and grinned broadly. “With pleasure. Are you all right?”

  “Little bit of a headache, otherwise fine. We’re in the second sub-basement level in what appears to be a panic room.”

  This kid is sitting on top of a firebomb, said Nicole telepathically. She doesn’t know. Distract her while I get it out of here. We can use this room as a defensive position in case the shit hits the fan.