Ghost Black

by Matthew S. Cox

  She screamed and ran to the box, sliding to a halt on her knees. As soon as she grabbed the bomb, it melted into a wad of sticky, black goo. Risa pulled her hands apart, but the tarlike mass stuck to her skin. It crept up her arms, swimming over her shoulders and down her body, solidifying into a sinister version of her stealth suit that tried to squeeze the air out of her. Unable to breathe, Risa rolled over backward and stared up at the ceiling. False Kree kept on singing, oblivious to her.

  “Risa?” yelled Chaia. The too-cute-to-be-real tween with the piercing blue eyes and platinum blonde bob had appeared at the top of the second escalator, waving. “This way.”

  The armored suit ceased crushing her. Air flowed into her lungs and she tumbled to her feet. A mass of hovering eyeballs hung like a curtain behind her, every one of them watching, every one of them judging.

  Despite knowing she dreamed, Risa couldn’t walk away and leave the grimy not-Kree busking for food. After Chaia called for her again, she forced herself to walk away. The curtain of eyes pivoted to follow her, radiating scorn that she’d dare think of taking Kree. Those people thought themselves better than her, thought Kree should die on the street rather than be with Risa. Their toxic derision made something snap inside her.

  “No!” shouted Risa at the eyes, sprouting claws. “She’s mine!”

  The eyes scattered, swarming around each other in their haste to get away and fly down the first escalator. Relieved, Risa spun toward the children, but only empty instruments remained.

  “Come on, Risa!” shouted Chaia from the top of the second escalator.

  Bewildered, Risa turned in place for a few seconds before stepping onto the moving steps. Chaia still at the top of the stairs, giggled and ran out of sight. Risa stood still, riding the escalator up to a plain steel cube of a room. It had no furniture, doors, or windows. The only way out appeared to be a small square opening centered on the far wall at ground level. She glanced over her shoulder, but the escalator to the tram terminal had vanished, replaced by a solid wall. With nowhere else to go, she crept across toward the hole.

  A sudden breeze over bare skin startled her. Her armor had vanished. She gazed down at her nine-year-old body clad in only a set of child’s underpants ―the same pair she’d worn the night Andriy Voronin died, and for months after. As if on autopilot, she padded across the room and squatted to peer into the vent opening.

  “No. This isn’t right.” Her childish voice echoed in the metal chamber. She placed a hand over her flat chest. “I don’t want this anymore. There’s no going home.” Risa stared at her reflection, a blurry smear of white on the burnished plastisteel over the vent tunnel. “I know what’s waiting at the other end…”

  Fire.

  She shivered at the remembered smell of a man’s flesh burning, and curled in a ball.

  “That one will do,” said Raziel.

  Risa’s head snapped up. The robe-clad figure of her pseudo-angel had appeared near the middle of the room, white-feathered wings resplendent in an otherworldly glow. General Maris stood at his side, a manic look in his eyes. He raised a three-pronged pincer attached to a pistol grip.

  “Hello, sweetie,” said Maris. “You have such beautiful eyes.”

  Risa leapt to her feet and tried to run, but black snake-like tendrils shot out of the walls and wrapped about her arms and legs. General Maris loomed over her as the cords tightened about her little body, holding her immobile against the freezing metal wall. He placed a hand on the top of her head, thumbed her left eyelid open, and held the evil pistol-shaped machine up to her face. The blade-tipped prongs edged closer and closer to her eyeball. She struggled, but couldn’t escape the black cords tying her down.

  “Trust me, child. You’ll thank us for this.”

  “No!” Risa screamed as she snapped awake.

  Covered in sweat, she curled on her side in bed, her arms crossed defensively over her face. It took her brain a few seconds to accept that a giant General Maris wasn’t towering over her with eye-gouging claws. Shaking, she gasped for air.

  One thing the dream had gotten correct: naked. She clasped her hands to her chest and tried to rein in her breathing. Her surroundings appeared to be a middle-of-the-road hotel suite. A short distance to her right, tall vertical blinds blocked off what she assumed to be an outdoor patio. A long, low cabinet beyond the foot of the bed held a holo-bar, food reassembler, and her neatly folded clothes wrapped in plastic.

  The large Comforgel pad had enough room for two, and the other side looked slept in.

  “Pavo?” She glanced left, at the short hallway leading to the exit door. Halfway between the room and the exit, a bathroom sat dark and empty. “Pavo?”

  She listened to silence for a little while before sliding her legs out from under the blankets. At her motion, a palm-sized, round black device on the night table chirped and projected a holographic version of Pavo’s face. Next to it, two-inch holographic numbers floated over a tiny silver bar: 10:08 a.m.

  She’d slept thirteen hours

  “Hey, beautiful,” said the recorded message. “I’m really sorry I’m not there. Captain Vasquez didn’t give me much choice. I had to report in to the Defense Force office in Elysium. I… didn’t want to cause any uncomfortable questions for you, so I figured it would be best if I not put up a fight. I sent your clothes out to ReadyKleen. Call me when you wake up. Don’t panic if I can’t answer, it’s work.” Holo-Pavo winked. “I love you, Risa.”

  The message playback stopped with Pavo’s holographic face frozen on a permanent smile. Flecks of dust in the air shimmered as they glided through his face. She set her elbows on her knees and braced her head in her hands. The headache had faded to a painful memory, though whenever she moved her eyes, a trace of soreness in the muscles remained.

  She stood, stretched, and walked around the bed to the cabinet. As soon as she stopped looking at the emitter, Holo-Pavo disappeared with a flicker. Her NetMini sat next to the wrapped clothes, boots on the floor nearby. Two taps of a finger unlocked it, and she selected Pavo’s contact information.

  Connecting…

  “Hi, this is Pavo Aram. I’m unable to answer at the moment. Please leave a message. If this is an emergency, tap this link”―a holographic finger entered the frame, pointing at a spot where a bright red button appeared―“to contact the MDF.”

  Beep.

  “Hey, it’s me. I’m awake. Gonna grab a shower. I’ll try again in a few minutes.”

  Risa set the NetMini down and wandered into the dark bathroom. The lights came on automatically, the room flashing blinding white in an instant. Risa caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and froze, hands over her mouth to stifle the gasp. Deep jade-green eyes stared back at her. She’d gone from some terrifying steel-eyed specter to a vision of near-innocence. Faint bruising circled both eyes in a raccoon mask.

  She leaned close, the tip of her nose an inch from the glass, and stared into her reflection. Any hesitance or regret she’d had at having them put back in evaporated. I did it. I’m really free… Once the magic waned, the sticky sweat from an awful dream pulled her into the shower tube.

  As the water started, pop-ups on the in-tube console offered additional perfume or hair conditioning options (at an extra fee, billable to the room). She surrendered to a bit of whimsy, and opted for a honeysuckle and coconut body wash for Ͼ35.

  Fifteen minutes later, a dry and relaxed Risa stretched out on the bed, NetMini in hand. She dialed Pavo again. This time he answered. His bust appeared hovering over the device in hologram, red MDF armor on his shoulders.

  “You look amazing.” He winked. “I was in the middle of a medical evaluation when you called last time.”

  “Guess you passed if you’re in uniform.” She smiled, and tilted the NetMini enough so he could tell she didn’t have anything on. “Is everything okay?”

  The background scenery blurred as he twisted in a rapid turn. “I’m out in public. They’ve got us on a ‘low-impact’ securit
y detail for a little while. Aurelia insisted on returning to active duty. Says she’s fine despite what happened to her. With both of us being targeted, Captain’s being cautious for the time being.”

  “You didn’t tell me if you’re okay or not.” Risa found the look on his face amusing. “I haven’t unwrapped my clothes yet.”

  He gave her a longing stare. “I’ll be off by 16:00. Another perk of the readjustment period―normal hours. Where can I find you?”

  She stretched. “I’m going to try and pick Kree up and bring her to your place if that’s okay.”

  “That’s not okay.” He shook his head.

  Risa blinked. “What?”

  “Calling it my place. Consider it ours.” He grinned for a second before glancing to his left. “Crap. Shoplifter. Gotta go.”

  “Ass.” She muttered, after he ended the call.

  She let her arm flop on the pillow over her head, NetMini still in hand. Bringing her outside the safehouse is going to be a project. Eyes closed, Risa idly scratched at her stomach as the last traces of shower dampness faded into the air. The longer I cave in and let her stay there, the harder it’s going to be to get her out.

  The door hissed open. Risa suppressed the urge to yelp and scrambled under the blankets as a figure in a long, white coat walked in. Shiro halted at where the short corridor ended, and glanced to the side until she’d covered herself. He approached the edge of the bed, eyes hidden behind dark glasses, a trace of a smile on his lips. She couldn’t help but notice the distortion in the lay of his coat that gave away the presence of a katana.

  “I was not expecting you to be so… comfortable.”

  Her cheeks warmed. “Do you always just walk into random hotel rooms, or should I feel special?”

  “You weren’t answering. I wasn’t sure where they’d sent you off to. I’ve been worried.”

  She pressed herself into the Comforgel pad, hands together holding the blanket at her chin. Everett was going to deal with him… Worried my ass. Shit, he’s evaded them and come to kill me. An attempt to call Pavo with her implanted comm ended with his ‘busy at work’ message. He’d never make it here in time. She stared down at her blanket-covered hands wondering when she’d become so small and terrified, wanting Pavo to come rescue her. The same man only months before she could’ve killed without a second thought. Indignation stirred deep down, but if Shiro possessed anywhere near the same skills as the operator from Arden settlement, even her old self wouldn’t be able to take him without ambushing him unaware.

  She felt naked in every sense of the word.

  “I… uhh… It was a rescue op. UCF Military holding facility. Sneak in and out. Pretty easy really… almost like they wanted us to get away.”

  Shiro chuckled and clasped his hands behind his back. “I’d heard you’d gone to Bliss. Garrison didn’t seem to think you planned on coming back. You can understand my concern.”

  “A-at the time, I… guess I didn’t.” Random images of the man from Arden came and went, along with remembered bruises. When she’d been armed and armored, he’d made her feel defenseless, as well as inept at hand to hand combat. A sour malaise settled in her stomach. I’ve gotta get him off his guard. She forced herself to lower her arms and sat up, hoping he didn’t notice the stiffness of her motions. “It’s been hard coping with everything.”

  Shiro glanced at the carpet for a few seconds before reaching up to remove his glasses. He folded them with one hand and slipped them into a breast pocket on his faux-leather coat. “What have you done to yourself?”

  Risa drew her legs underneath her, keeping her body hidden from the waist down by the blanket. That’s it. Stare at my tits. Get closer. “What do you mean?”

  “You upgraded your eyes?” He smiled, and reached across the bed to caress her cheek. “They’re so close to the same color you were born with. Stunning.”

  His touch sent a tingle across her jawline and down her spine, but not the same warm tingle she got from Pavo. She suppressed the need to squirm. “I found them.” Shit, he knows. Play his ego. “You were right, Shiro. Raziel is a load of dustblow… he’s not an angel; he’s a synthetic. I feel so stupid for listening to him. He found my real eyes, and took them off the market.”

  “You look so innocent. You could pass for eighteen again. Such a pity.” He let his arm fall.

  She thought of Pavo, bored at work and desperate for his shift to end so they could be together. Picturing what this room would look like when Pavo found her body, she clutched her fingers into the bedding. Every muscle locked with fear. He’s toying with me. Air rushed in and out of her lungs, breasts heaving. She had Pavo back… she had Kree… she had a father again. No! not now. The urge to end him where he stood battled with the hope he might not have shown up to start a fight she couldn’t win. If she made a move, and failed, she’d be killing herself. They made this sound so easy… show some skin, get in bed, kill. Why isn’t it working? She couldn’t suppress a tremble. “I’m out, Shiro. I quit. I can’t do it anymore.”

  “You look so innocent.” He caressed her face again, slid his hand under her chin, and traced the back of his knuckles up the other cheek.

  She lifted her head, trying to act interested in having him touch her.

  “Risa…” Shiro sighed. “Innocent girls don’t lie.”

  Her heart almost stopped, feeling like a lead weight in her chest. She couldn’t tell if he had armor on under the coat, not that it would matter… her Nano claws would tear through almost anything shy of hardened plastisteel, and that would stop them only due to her lack of physical strength. His stance gave away his tension; he expected a strike. As soon as she moved, it would be a duel of speedware.

  “The worst part about having someone to care for…” Shiro lowered his arm and took a half step back. “…is being afraid to die.”

  She flattened her fingers―a gesture he took note of. The sides of his coat opened, powered MolWeave strips splitting to reveal the grips of a pair of handguns on his belt, though he made no attempt to grab for them.

  “I know what your mission was.” She locked stares with him. Her tactical computer presented only two paths for attack. All the gleaming golden graphics appeared like glass threads, mesmerizing and beautiful. With each inch further away he edged, her odds of survival dropped by eight or nine percent. Risa worked her right foot into the bedding, trying to find a solid brace she could use to kick off into a leap.

  Shiro rendered a slight bow, the kind a superior gives an underling. “It seems we both have our secrets. If you wish to dress, I will not stop you.”

  Risa tensed. “I’ve got a thirty-one-percent chance of survival right now. If I walk across the room to my clothes, that drops to nothing. I’m more comfortable naked. Hope you don’t mind.”

  He smiled. “Not at all.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Ral Narim… the man Walsh sent me to kill. You did it.”

  “Yes. I am aware of how you feel about assassinations. When I saw an opportunity to resolve your obligation to the Syndicate and spare you guilt, I took it.” He sighed out his nose. “You may not believe this, but I do care for you.”

  Risa kept eye contact and pulled the blanket away. Last thing I need is this thing tangling me up. He showed no outward reaction as she extended her left leg forward, hooked her heel on the edge of the Comforgel pad, and pulled herself over. She faced him, left foot on the bed, knee beside her head. A solid foundation to spring from. Shiro’s blasé demeanor softened; the full-frontal view must have worked.

  “Got an ‘elf’ a few years ago.” Risa winked, hoping her calling attention to permanent nanosurgery to remove all body hair below the waist would cause a fatal distraction. She shifted, lowering her right leg while leaving it wide enough to give him a good look. “Life’s too short to waste time shaving, especially in my line of work.”

  “Risa. Do you want to kill me?” His gaze seemed to take her in entirely, not zeroed on any one part.

  His qu
estion stalled her. The breath she’d taken and held in preparation to leap at him leaked between her teeth. At a hint he might not be there to give her ‘two to the head,’ she thought back to his bringing her blind ass to the hospital. It had felt different from when Pavo carried her. Shiro thought her a delicate flower in need of protection. Everything he did hinged on obtaining her. It didn’t feel like love. Or at least, not the way Pavo loved her, a companion and equal.

  “You tried to kill the man I love.” Her tone came out sad, rather than angry. “I’ve wasted so much of my life on revenge. So many years, all that drove me was the need to find the person who’d killed my father. Then I discovered he wasn’t who I thought him to be. The UCF hadn’t killed one of their own. As soon as I came to terms with that, as soon as I hoped this world might allow me to be happy, I thought Pavo dead. And I started right back down that road.” She stared at the wall for a few seconds. “Maybe it’s twisted of me or maybe I’m afraid, but I don’t really feel like killing you.”

  Shiro drifted to the left, turning his back as he approached her clothing. He gathered the packets, and threw them one by one, like Frisbees, onto the bed. Thinking them a distraction for a bullet in the head if she broke eye contact, she ignored them.

  He held the last packet, staring down at it, flicking at the corner of the plastic. “Your body language says you want to.”

  “What I want right now is not to die.”

  He tossed the packet onto the bed next to her, still with his back to her.

  Maybe he can’t do it if I’m looking at him. “I guess I’m not feeling suicidal. The operator at Arden would have killed me if not for Raziel. You got what you came for. I’m out of the MLF. A non-threat. You tried to have Pavo killed. I don’t want revenge; I want the life I never got to have.” She glanced at the square of periwinkle-blue fabric beneath a transparent plastic veil. A frosted watermark of a smiling delivery bot with a ReadyKleen logo adorned the center of the package. “If anything happens to Kree, there―”