Ghost Black

by Matthew S. Cox

  A small hand on Risa’s shoulder nudged her awake. The weight of a child pressed into her chest. She opened her eyes to find Kree nose to nose, laying on top of her. She suppressed a yawn, blinked, and noted the time display floating in her vision: 08:18.

  “I’m hungry,” said Kree.

  Risa grinned. “When did you become a cat?”

  Kree scrunched her nose. “Huh? I’m not a cat.”

  “Never mind.” She threaded a hand up out from under the blankets and brushed the hair from Kree’s face. She needs to eat. I shouldn’t make her wait. “Food. Right.”

  The partition in Garrison’s office provided a little privacy, but she’d still gone back to the private room on Death Row to claim a long shirt to sleep in. Of everyone in the safehouse, she’d always felt uncomfortable undressing around Garrison. He’d never been her commander as much as Dad, even when she felt like an adopted stray. Knowing the truth made the awkwardness more acute.

  Kree leapt from the cot as Risa sat up. The girl stepped into her boots and tromped for the hall in her underpants. Risa swung her legs over the side and sat for a moment holding her face, trying to force consciousness into her brain after only five hours of sleep. A squeak from the door startled her upright; the clock had jumped six minutes forward.

  Garrison entered, Kree over his left shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “She’s hungry.”

  “Yeah.” Risa stood, ignoring the frigid floor underfoot, and collected the girl as he passed on the way to his desk. “Thanks for intercepting.”

  She ducked behind the partition and changed into her armor, pulled Kree into her clingy long-sleeved shirt and fluffy purple skirt, and led her by the hand to the dining area. If she inhaled deep enough, her nose found the scent of vindaloo lurking in the background. Kree waited patiently at the table while Risa dialed up two plates of the machine’s interpretation of pancakes, plus one milk and one coffee.

  The child disregarded the plastic fork and attacked her food with her fingers. Risa propped her cheek up in one hand, alternating between eating and slurping coffee with the other. I’ve got to get her out of here.

  “Do you remember Pavo?” Risa smiled.

  Kree nodded.

  “You liked him?”

  “He’s okay.” Kree made an appraising face. “Smells funny.”

  Risa leaned close to the table, and lowered her voice. “How would you like for us to live with him? Like a family?”

  Kree shrugged. “Okay.”

  That was too easy.

  The girl used a scrap of pancake like a rag to mop up syrup from the plastic plate, and packed it into her mouth. Risa couldn’t help but grin at the puffy hamster cheeks. They ate without another word for a few more minutes. After clearing her plate, the child drained her milk in one long chug, and gasped for breath.

  “Is Pavo gonna be like a daddy?” Kree set the glass down.

  Risa bit her lip. “Something like that. If you want to think of him that way.”

  Kree squinted. “If he hits you, are you gonna shoot him?”

  “Uhh.” Shit. I guess I know what happened to her father… “Pavo’s not like that. He wouldn’t hit me.”

  “She said that too.” Kree stared at her plate. “But she lied.”

  Risa waved at Kree to come closer. The girl ducked under the table and climbed into her lap. “Most men don’t do that. Some do. And it’s not right.” I can’t believe I’m talking about this with a six-year-old. “Pavo is not the type of guy that would ever hurt me… or you.”

  Kree fidgeted, looking nervous.

  “I don’t want you to think he’s capable of anything like that, but if he ever did, it would be the last day we stayed with him.”

  “Okay.” Kree smiled, seeming calmer.

  “Let’s grab some stuff and we’ll go see his apartment.”

  Kree went rigid. “O-outside?”

  “Of course.” Risa kissed her atop the head. “He’s got a big apartment. You can have your very own room, and you won’t have to deal with Osebi’s gas.”

  “I don’t wanna go outside!” Kree yelled, clamped on, and trembled. “Please don’t make me go outside.”

  The sudden change in the girl’s demeanor shocked Risa mute. She held her for a few minutes until the wailing faded to soft sobs. When Risa tried to stand, Kree struggled to get away, erupting in a new barrage, shrieking “no” repeatedly.

  Risa held her firm. “Okay, okay. I’m only going to Garrison’s room.”

  Kree ceased thrashing, but continued shaking.

  “Shh. It’s all right. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

  Risa patted her on the back while carrying her down the hall and the curved stairway to the third level. Everyone in the safehouse seemed to be looking at her as if wondering what awful thing she’d done to the child. Risa couldn’t get into the hallway past the command room fast enough, away from accusing stares. Once inside her new sanctuary, she shot Garrison a helpless look and carried Kree to the cot. As soon as she put her down, the child dove to the floor and crawled under the bed, curling up against the wall as far back out of reach as she could get. Risa stood straight and pressed the heel of her right hand into the headache forming over her eye.

  “Ugh.”

  Garrison hurried over. “What happened?”

  Risa took his arm and walked him to the back of the room, hopefully far enough for Kree not to hear a controlled mumble. “I asked her about going to live with Pavo. She seemed okay at first, but panicked when I told her he lived in the city.”

  He offered a comforting expression. “She’s a lot like you were at first. It’s going to take time.”

  “Yeah…” She glanced back at the partition. “Can you watch her for a little while? I need to deal with something.”

  “Deal with something? Who’s the target?” He chuckled.

  She punched him in the side, a hair harder than playful. “I’m not an assassin, and I’m not going on a ‘mission.’ I want to see Pavo, and… I have something I need to do. No bombs, no guns, and no blood involved.” Risa shivered. “Okay, maybe a little blood.”

  “That’s got me curious.”

  “Don’t worry about me.” She smiled for a second before leaning up to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “I’ll be okay, Dad.”

  Risa crept over to the cot. “Sweetie?”

  “I don’ wanna go,” whined Kree.

  “I’m not going to make you. I need to go do some things, okay?” Risa peered under the blanket. The girl looked like a terrified porcelain doll with fluffed-out black hair, huddled in the corner. “I’m not going away.”

  Kree sniffled. “No bombs.”

  “Promise. I’m only going to talk to Pavo. I love him too and I’d like to see him. You can come if you want.”

  “No.” Kree shook her head hard, and pressed herself against the wall.

  Risa sighed. “Okay. I’ll be back soon. If you get scared, you find Garrison and he’ll call me.”

  Kree stared at her.

  “Back soon.” Risa stood. It’s not supposed to be this difficult. I can’t choose between them… She gazed up at the dingy ceiling of dented plastisteel tiles and dangling wires. So, Raziel turned out to be software. Guess I’m a fool for hoping there’s something up there.

  She moped on the way out past the command room, eyes downcast. Plain grey floor, interrupted every few feet by a ribbed cable sheath or an unidentifiable bit of metal junk, passed in silence. Risa counted her steps, taking a left at the top of the stairs and a right sixty-four steps later into the corridor that would lead her to the safehouse main entrance.

  “Risa.” General Maris blocked her path. “A minute.”

  She stopped and looked up at him with a weary expression.

  Confusion lingered in his eyes for a few seconds; evidently, he’d expected her usual acerbic response to his presence. “I have to ask. Is there anything I can do to change your mind about going inactive? We’ve got two-hundred-and-forty-nine op
erations personnel, only eight of whom possess any skill with demolitions. And precisely one operative with enough augmentation to do what you can do.”

  Risa looked down and to the right, tapped her foot, and brought her stare back up to meet his. “If C-Branch is willing to pay for me to visit Reinventions every few years to keep me in my early twenties, I’ll consider going active again once Kree’s eighteen and on her own.”

  Maris set his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Doubtful. That would cost more than a new set of implants, even with your neuralware upgrade… and the Japanese don’t sell that part you’ve got.”

  She cocked an eyebrow. “You’re telling me they’ve got better tech than C-Branch? If this operation becomes official, there’ll be no need to pull the barely-hanging-on ragtag group of fugitives thing.”

  “We’ve got similar tech, but the Japanese version you’re using is a little smaller. Uses a little less juice, and lasts longer before wire burn sets in. We’re talking a couple of seconds here, but what you’re asking for… millions of credits for a maybe.”

  She winked, and brushed past him. “I know.”

  Maris’s subdued laughter echoed off the walls behind her. “A simple ‘no’ would’ve worked.”

  “Nothing here is ever simple.” She paused and glanced back at him. “I’ve got someone to live for now. Two someones. And I’m not so sure we’re doing the right thing anymore. A war on two fronts…”

  “I know.” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I’m well aware of the tactical idiocy of that. It’s coming down from on high. I suppose they got tired of me telling them to stuff it.” Maris approached. “You’ve got a reputation. They might think you’re either too dangerous to let go or too valuable to lose.”

  Risa stared at her boots. “If anything happens to my family, I will rip the guts out of whoever is responsible… or die trying. There is no forcing me back into ‘the life’ by killing them. That starts the nuclear option.”

  General Maris raised his hands. “Whatever you may think of me, that’s not how I operate. Don’t think I’m unaware that message was for me.”

  She exhaled. “Sorry. I’ve had a rough week.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Thanks.” She started to walk away.

  “Oh, Risa?”

  She froze, but didn’t look back. “What?”

  General Maris raised both eyebrows. “I have to ask you to give up the private room if you’re not going to be doing demo work.”

  Risa threw her head back and laughed.

  6

  The Last Day on Mars

  The line of passengers waiting to board the Elysium-bound shuttle queued at a gleaming white door set in a recessed alcove carved of Mars rock. To the right, a fifteen-yard-long ‘window’ offered a digital recreation of the surface tarmac two stories up. Wisps of fog drifted among the landing gear of four large RedLink shuttles, lined up like massive piglets suckling from the building.

  Risa kept her head down, feeling trapped in a wall of bodies with too many people behind her for comfort. She counted the alternating dark-grey and navy threads in the coat of the woman in front of her up to four-hundred-and-sixty-two before a chime sounded overhead and made her lose track. A sleepy-looking man emerged from a curtain on the right side of the window.

  His bright-crimson jumpsuit bore the logo of RedLink Corporation on a patch over his left breast. Wild white hair in a short bob gave him the look of an electrocuted dandelion. He put on an expression of happiness and flashed a plastic grin as he trotted over to a podium by the large door. A holo-terminal appeared over it, and after a few taps, the boarding tunnel opened. He continued to smile while an automated female voice took over.

  “Good morning. Shuttle 907C departing for Elysium City is ready for boarding at terminal R. The gate is now open. Please form a single-file line and await confirmation of your boarding scan before proceeding.”

  One by one, people ahead of her walked into the opening, each person accompanied by a beep from the wall as a sensor scanned their NetMini to verify their ticket. A man close behind her and to the left made faces at thin air and wobbled his head, likely having an agitated conversation with someone via an implanted link. As the line thinned, he shouldered Risa out of his way and cut ahead. His daughter, perhaps three or four, looked up at her with an apologetic expression.

  Once the girl made eye contact, she screamed and pointed. “Daddy!”

  Risa cringed, hiding her face and staring down. That was the reaction she’d expected from Kree, or any child for that matter. For two months after the surgery, she avoided mirrors.

  The man glanced at the girl, at Risa, then back to the child. “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s scary!” The little one hid behind her father.

  “Uhh, sorry.” He offered a weak smile, picked the kid up, and hurried down the tube.

  Violet light from her artificial eyes reflected on a thin metal strip where the boarding tunnel door sealed into the wall when closed. She cringed at the distancing sound of the little girl sniffling and crying. The people behind her managed to wait six whole seconds before the throat clearing started. By ten, a woman yelled, “Get on, or get outta the way.”

  Risa hurried forward; a vibration and beep from her left hip startled a yelp out of her as her NetMini linked to the RedLink service. At the end of an air-conditioned tunnel with silvery paneled walls, a mechanical stairway offered an easy passage up a spiral into a round-walled surface building. Glowing blue hologram arrows with black text bearing her flight number pointed the way across the huge space to the correct docking tube.

  A pair of circular bots zipped about cleaning the floor, like a game of air hockey playing itself with pucks the size of dinner plates. They came close enough to spook passengers into flinching, but never made contact. Risa trudged over the polished white tiles to a plastic-walled flexible tunnel, lit brown-orange from sunlight beating on it. Reddish dust caked the few inches of shuttle hull visible inside the air seal on the far end. Eventually, she emerged from the press of bodies and slipped into a window seat in the third row from the back. All the while, she hid her face behind her hair, not wanting anyone to see her demonic eyes.

  Twenty-seven minutes after landing at the Elysium shuttleport, Risa approached the door to Pavo’s apartment. It chirped and slid into the wall as soon as she got close enough for the reader to pick up her NetMini signal. The reminder Pavo had added her to the security settings teased a smile out of the oubliette into which her mood had fallen. She sucked in a breath, which lifted her spirits further, and strode inside.

  Aurelia and Genevieve jumped, disentangling themselves with as much speed as possible without falling off Pavo’s couch. One look at their mussed hair and near-lack of clothes told Risa all she needed to know. She winked at Genevieve, made a ‘carry on’ gesture, and headed for the inner hallway leading to the master bedroom. She approached the bedroom door, but slowed at the sound of Pavo emitting repetitive grunting sounds. Her eyebrows climbed.

  She pushed the frosted plastic door aside and peeked in, dreading the sight awaiting her. “Got started without me?”

  Pavo, head engulfed in a Senshelmet, punched, kicked, and grappled at thin air. Relieved that she had misinterpreted the sounds, Risa leaned on the doorjamb, admiring his body. Clingy black boxers didn’t leave much to the imagination. Muscles swelled in his shoulders and upper chest when he moved as if catching someone leaping at him and hurling them to the floor. He dropped to a knee, delivering a rapid downward punch, his fist stopping short of the carpet by less than an inch.

  “You know a plug-in would be safer. Or at least get a non-cheap helmet so you don’t move around. You almost broke your hand.”

  He didn’t react, likely unable to hear her over the soundtrack of whatever game he’d plunged into. Not wanting to catch an accidental foot to the nose, she stayed at the door. Pavo twisted right before grabbing and pulling in a gesture that let her imagine a wrist lock. He dr
ove his knee up into the phantom’s gut, and finished the attacker off with a downward elbow―likely to the back.

  Risa ached to touch him. Behind her, the sounds of Aurelia and Gen’s kissing grew fervent, bringing heat to her cheeks, and elsewhere. She tugged open the MolWeave fastener on her armor to let in some air. Gen needed that. I hope they work out. Over the next ten minutes, Risa’s eyes drank in Pavo’s figure. He was quite a few synthetic hormone shots away from the physique of a Gee-ball player, but then again, those guys looked like inflatable caricatures of humanity. Pavo had an athletic build, to the point every muscle showed clear definition beneath his skin. Besides, she didn’t feel attracted to anyone so bulky he couldn’t reach to scratch his own chest.

  When she couldn’t take the wait anymore, she kicked on her speedware long enough to blur into the room and hit the power switch on his helmet. He flailed about in a startled windmill; she caught his arm to keep him from falling over.

  “Dammit.” Pavo pulled the helmet off and looked at the controls on the right side. “I just charged this damn thing.”

  “Intense game?”

  He whirled, raising his arms in a defensive posture for two seconds before recognition set in. “Fuck’s sake…” He relaxed, and sighed. “Don’t sneak up on me. Please. Not after…”

  She stopped smiling. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think. Watching you was… distracting.”

  Pavo crossed to his desk, where he placed the helmet on a charging stand. A spray of blue light lit the wall behind it. He returned and wrapped his arms around her.

  She stood in silence for a few minutes. The knowledge he’d been ‘kept safe’ by a supposedly friendly faction of the military didn’t make her feel less guilty. What did they do to him? Is he going to have flashbacks? PTSD? She clung to him and sniffled.

  “Hey, stop it,” said Pavo. “I’m not upset. It’s okay.”

  “Is it?” She took a meditative breath, and calmed herself. “What they did to you…”

  He leaned back enough to look at her, and smiled. “I’m more pissed at myself than anything.”