Guardian

by Matthew S. Cox

  Kirsten shivered. “It’s a bit cold out here… if you’d like to vid him to make sure it’s okay, would you mind if I waited inside?”

  “Come in. My apologies.” Marguerite stepped back, waited for her to pass, and closed the door behind her―through Dorian. She stared into space.

  The idea of an implanted NetMini made Kirsten squirm, even if the woman in front of her was a synthetic, made entirely of plastic, metal, and silicon. She lost herself in wondering if bio-implants existed, would they bother her. Cyberware in a synth was like putting living organisms into a person.

  “Mademoiselle?” asked Marguerite. “The senator is pleased you’ve come to call. This way.”

  “Thanks.”

  Kirsten followed her up a long, ornate staircase to the second floor, rounded a banister post, and up another set of stairs to the third. Marguerite stopped at a door and knocked twice with a light touch.

  The medtech, Theresa, answered the door. “Yes?”

  A weak female voice whimpered and grunted from behind her.

  “I’d like to see Seraphina for a few minutes. I’m following up on some new evidence in the investigation.”

  “She is sleeping, officer.” Theresa moved to push the door closed, but Kirsten blocked it.

  “It doesn’t matter if she’s awake.”

  Theresa looked at Marguerite as if asking for support.

  “Senator Winchester is aware. He would like the matter resolved as soon as possible.”

  The in-home medtech backed off, grumbling.

  Kirsten watched her move back to the sofa near the bed, bracing for a sudden attack. The woman seemed to have something to hide… or at least an innate distrust of the police… or perhaps psionics. Theresa sat, picked up a datapad, and resumed playing some game.

  Seraphina remained in bed as she had been the last time, though she tossed her head from side to side, muttering.

  “Has anything else unusual happened here?”

  “No,” said Theresa, not looking up.

  “Hmm.” Kirsten circled the bed, opening her thoughts to the ambient energy in the room. The latent presence felt stronger than the last time she’d been here, but not as powerful as what she’d found in Lamb’s office. Her hand wound up on the waist-high obelisk containing all the medical scanning equipment hooked up to Seraphina. The charge of paranormal energy within it worried her. Not only did it feel strong, it had the same sense of identity.

  She approached the bed and concentrated enough to establish a telepathic link to the woman. Seraphina dreamed of being adrift in churning water, slipping under in progressively longer periods of drowning. Stark moonlight made her arm and ancient-looking dress glow against an ink-black sky. The pale figure of Senator Winchester stood less than ten feet away, safe on shore. He stared down at his daughter with a mixture of guilt and hesitance. Seraphina’s voice, screaming as if from a great distance overhead, pleaded with him to save her, but he paced as if afraid to get too close.

  Ugh. Major daddy issues. Kirsten forced her way past the dream, sending her thoughts deep into the recesses of the girl’s mind in a search for psionic ability. She shied away from peeking at full-formed memories, but caught glimpses of teenagers laughing in an alley, a child’s vision bouncing down a dilapidated hallway strewn with toy dolls and trash, happily calling out for her mother, and an older teen voice sobbing on a Vidphone call, begging her father for help. The girl felt about as psionic as a packet of OmniSoy. When she let the mental connection fade, a cool minty flavor hit her in the mouth like a metal fist.

  “Damn.” Kirsten coughed and smacked her lips. “Not psionic at all.”

  “I could’ve told you that,” muttered the medtech.

  “Are you sure that nothing has happened here that you can’t explain?”

  “No.” Theresa answered too fast.

  Kirsten pondered for a second, and decided to peek. The medtech’s thoughts betrayed three separate incidents where Seraphina had medical alarms, one where she nearly suffered a coronary, and one where Theresa spotted a shadowy figure in the room seconds before the health monitors went berserk.

  She stomped over to the medic and swatted the datapad out of her hands, knocking it clattering to the floor. “Do I have your attention now?”

  The medtech glared up at her.

  “Three times, Theresa. You were supposed to notify us if anything strange happened. Like seeing a dark figure in the room? Or unexplained failures of medical equipment. Deliberately lying to an officer of the National Police Force is grounds for detention.”

  “Prove it.” Theresa narrowed her eyes. “Isn’t your mindreading voodoo illegal too?”

  “Inadmissible, not illegal.” Okay, unethical, but not illegal. Kirsten folded her arms. “All right. We can play that game too. Marguerite, please notify the senator that this medtech ignored his directions, possibly risked the life of his daughter, and he might consider utilizing a different service entirely. It’s well within his rights to pursue a civil lawsuit against her for negligence. I’m sure this equipment has logs that can be reviewed to prove Seraphina has had ‘episodes’ no one has been told about.”

  Theresa lunged to her feet, glaring.

  “Oh, please take that swing.” Kirsten loomed, as much as a short girl can loom. “You could’ve killed that woman.”

  “What happened?” asked Marguerite.

  Kirsten kept staring at Theresa. “Her attitude bothered me, so I looked into her thoughts. There’ve been three attacks, one of which was definitely caused by the spirit the senator is concerned about, and she’s kept it quiet. No wonder I haven’t gotten a call yet.”

  “Please, don’t.” Theresa’s bravado collapsed. She sank into her seat. “He will make such trouble for Expert-Kare, they will sue me for the contract, and I will not be able to pay. You must understand… I didn’t believe it. I still don’t believe it. If I speak of such things, they become real.”

  “I hate to break it to you, Theresa, but they are real.” Kirsten let the venom out of her voice. “Seraphina’s life is in danger. I need to know what happened.”

  Theresa kneaded her uniform in her lap. “She awoke screaming and gasping for the breath. The machine goes crazy, but none of the alarms make sense. It say she has too much oxygen in her blood, but she cannot breathe so she should be hypoxic. Then it show her heart rate at nothing, but she is still moving.”

  “Could something attacking the machine have triggered her physical symptoms?”

  “No.” Theresa shook her head. “Is just a monitor. It can dispense pain medicine and antibiotics, but it cannot cause the heart attack or make her stop breathing. One time, I use the bathroom and come back here… there is a man standing by the window. I yell at him, and he rush at me.” She raised her arms to shield her face. “I do like this, but he no hit me. When I look again, he is gone. Seraphina has recovering from a severe illness. The drugs to help her are giving her bad dreams. I think the attacks are normal for her condition, so I did not call you.”

  “What about the shadow man?”

  “I no believe him.” Theresa hid her face in her hands. “I no believe.”

  “You know what I ‘no believe?’” Dorian glanced at Kirsten. “How she all of a sudden sounds like she’s learned English a month ago. It’s an act to seem less threatening.”

  Kirsten paced back and forth. “Well, so much for that theory. It’s not her.”

  “I can take a look around the grounds again.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Might as well.” She glanced back to Theresa. “What was the nature of her ‘severe illness?’”

  Theresa looked down. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to say. It is privileged information. I could be sued or dismissed for breaking confidentiality. The senator can tell you.”

  Kirsten gestured at the bed. “Medical confidentiality doesn’t apply to law enforcement.”

  “I believe you, but please… ask Senator Winchester. I no want to be caught between this.”
/>
  “What about Seraphina?” Kirsten wandered over to the bed again, watching the white-haired woman sleep. “Can’t she tell me?”

  “She is on medication to make her sleep until she is well enough to move around.” Theresa made a few adjustments to the monitor device. “She is doing well, but must rest for another few days.”

  “Senator Winchester is in session.” Marguerite shook her head. “I’m unable to reach him.”

  Kirsten glanced at Seraphina. So tempting… I shouldn’t. Damn, I hate politics. “Can you leave him a message to contact me about it please? It may be vital to know for the investigation.”

  “I will.” Marguerite smiled. “Do you need anything else?”

  “Only for whoever’s watching Seraphina to let me know if anything paranormal happens again.”

  Theresa nodded.

  After a sweep of the manor house found no traces of malevolent spirits, Kirsten followed Marguerite down the hallway and two flights of stairs to the front door. The woman opened it for her, but stepped out onto the porch as well.

  “Seraphina had been keeping bad company in the last few months prior to her becoming sick. Most of her ‘friends’ associate with wild gangs deep in the city. I think she may have been poisoned for stealing, perhaps even killing someone.” Marguerite looked down. “I was nearby when Theresa saw what you called a shadow man. I heard a whispery voice say ‘mine’ or ‘that’s mine’ before she screamed.”

  “Maybe her pimp got killed and he’s coming for her?” asked Dorian.

  “Thanks.” Kirsten rubbed her hands up and down her arms; the supposed all-weather uniform didn’t do too well in bitter cold. “Is there any chance you can tell me what happened to her, medically?”

  “I’ve already said too much. The senator would not like it known that his daughter associated with street criminals. Bad enough he had her from an affair.”

  “The senator was married?” Kirsten blinked.

  “Is.” Marguerite smiled with a touch of victory in her eyes. “Melody does not leave Paramount city on the Moon. I will ask him about the medical information. As soon as he gives me an answer, I will call you.”

  “Okay.” Kirsten hurried to the patrol craft and cranked the heat. When Dorian coalesced in the passenger seat, she sighed at him. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this whole thing now.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  She rubbed her hands up and down her thighs, savoring the little bit of warmth coming in from the vents. “Powerful guy has a daughter he doesn’t acknowledge. I got the feeling she’s desperate for his love or at least acceptance. Who knows what dirty shit he might’ve had her do or she decided to do in hopes of winning him over. Maybe she got messed up trying to infiltrate some place. Could be she’s got some off-the-grid implants, murderware.”

  “Blood augs?” Dorian rubbed his chin. “She didn’t look like the type. Too frail.”

  “Not all augs are juiced for combat. Maybe she’s a spy. Her body’s rejecting the implant so they’re keeping her on meds.” She drummed her fingers on the sticks. “I’m running in enough circles already. I’m curious how the senator reacts to me wanting to know what happened to her.” She sat for a few minutes typing notes in to the case file. After updating everything she could think of, she plotted a course for Sector 4491. “Lamb?”

  Dorian held up his hand. “No thanks. I’m considering going vegetarian.”

  She sighed.

  leven a.m. sunlight made looking at the sprawling mass of polished plastisteel below painful. Kirsten guided the patrol craft down an intermediary lane at 300 feet over the city surface. Civilian hovercar traffic rocketed by twenty stories overhead, individual cars melding to a stream of pulsating color and light. The occasional bright comet of an advert bot keeping pace with a car streaked along the edges of the blurry torrent.

  Patches of green broke up the silver on the ground, park-like spots within the Ancora Medical facility up ahead, used for rehabilitation and relaxation. Her console lit up with a warning as a MedVan approached from behind. She slid sideways out of its path and hovered. Nine seconds later, a white brick-shaped vehicle festooned with flashing red lights on top and four cyan ion plumes beneath raced by.

  Kirsten headed for the main building roof and took one of the spots reserved for emergency vehicles. She fanned herself after getting out; the car had grown too warm on the long flight south from the senator’s estate. She approached the roof access building, which resembled a Japanese pagoda done in white and brown with silver accents. Two security officers, a man and a woman in pure white jumpsuits, looked up from a desk inside a small receiving area.

  She braced for the ‘not a real cop’ bullshit.

  “Good morning, Officer,” said the man. “How can we help you?”

  “Agent.” She smiled. “I’m following up on an investigation. I need to speak to the attending physician for a Mr. Robert Lamb. Inquest 24181108A1.”

  “Hang on a tick.” The woman’s chirpy voice made her seem younger than she looked. “Right, there ‘e is. Mr. Lamb is under the care of Doctor Gerhardt. Take the lift to the twenty-second, and hook right at the care station. You’ll find him in section 22-0C. I’ll let him know you’ll be there in a jiff.”

  “Thanks.” She hesitated a moment, waiting for the snide remark but all she got were smiles.

  Kirsten headed for the elevator at the back of the room.

  “You look shocked.” Dorian grinned. “This is not a cheap hospital you know. Those two probably get paid as much as you do for warming a seat with their asses.”

  “Well at least they’re polite.”

  The elevator dropped to the 22nd floor, paused, and slid sideways for a short distance before pivoting ninety degrees to the right and opening. Kirsten stumbled out into an immaculate hallway with soft blue-gel padded benches on both sides. Okay. Was not expecting that. She shook off the disorientation and walked about fifty yards to a nurse’s station where six obvious dolls sat behind a curved desk in royal blue.

  “Excuse me. I’m trying to find Doctor Gerhardt?”

  “One moment.” The nearest doll gave her a vacant stare while her violet glowing eyes flickered. The same voice echoed over the PA system. “Doctor Gerhardt, please come to the care station at 22-0C.” She/it smiled. “He should be here soon.”

  Kirsten picked at her utility belt, glancing around. A heavyset older man with a few stalwart strands of grey still stuck to an otherwise bald head made eye contact from the bench about halfway up the next section of hallway. She offered a nod of acknowledgement, to which he leapt to his feet and ran over.

  “You can see me?” He blinked.

  “I can.” She grasped for his hand, but her fingers passed through him. “Are you aware you’ve died?”

  The man grumbled. “Yeah… Yeah. I know. I need you to help me.”

  She smiled. “If I can.”

  “Damn timing.” He waved a trembling arm to the side. “I never got the apple pie they promised me. Kept saying they’d bring it Thursday. I waited all damn week for it.”

  “They never brought you pie?” Kirsten cringed.

  “No. I kicked the bucket Wednesday. Can you believe that?”

  Dorian covered his face with a hand.

  “So… you want pie?”

  “Yes, dammit! I waited for it.”

  Kirsten tilted her head, and tried to sound as pleasant as possible. “How do you plan to eat it?”

  He blinked. “I… Uhh.” The old man hung his head. “Dammit. Now I’m dead and stupid.”

  “Oh.” Kirsten concentrated and made herself solid to the astral realm. She rubbed his shoulder. “It’s not stupid. Odd things happen to people when they die. It was the last thing you were focused on with great meaning.”

  “Hmmf.” He shook his head. “Thanks, but I still feel stupid.” After a momentary pause, he squinted at her. “No way for me to have the pie, eh?”

  “Well, I suppose you could wait fifty or six
ty years until you figure out how to possess someone… then slip in when they’re having apple pie.”

  “That there sounds like a damn lot of work for a slice of pie.” He wiped at his face.

  A silver shimmer stretched out of one of the patient rooms, near where he’d been sitting. The old man glanced at it. “Story of my life, young lady. Always seemed to wait for stuff and then bad shit happened.”

  Kirsten covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. What was so funny about old people cursing?

  “Welp.” He waddled off toward the light. “Thanks for slappin’ me upside the head. Damn pie.”

  A few seconds after he disappeared past the doorway, the glimmering silver bands intensified and vanished.

  Dorian grinned. “Well that was easy.”

  “Agent?” asked a male voice.

  Kirsten whirled around, eye-to-chest to a tall man with salt and pepper hair. She stared up at him, stunned by holovid-star good looks. If he was twenty years younger…

  “Are you all right Agent?”

  She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Oh… I’m just happy for that old guy. I don’t suppose you believe in ghosts?”

  “Not really. I understand this is about an Inquest?”

  “Yes, Doctor.” Her brief fantasy of him dressed like a pirate disintegrated as her daydreamed virile sea bandit peeled off his face to reveal a withered old man. She coughed and put on ‘cop voice.’ “I’m investigating a paranormal event regarding a patient of yours. Robert Lamb. I need to know what happened to him last night.”

  “Why don’t we adjourn to a conference room?” He gestured to the corridor opposite where the old spirit had been. “I’ve got rounds to attend, but I can spare you a few minutes.”

  “I’ll try to be as quick as possible.” She hurried after him, almost jogging to keep up with his lengthy stride.

  He entered a room with peach-colored walls where four beige chairs surrounded a table. She gawked at the plush cushions, feeling like she didn’t have enough money to touch one. After they sat, the doctor pulled up a holo-panel with some medical charts.

  “Mr. Lamb suffered a severely bruised liver. To be honest with you, Agent, I’ve never quite seen an injury like this. Tissue compression occurred with ridge patterns indicative of human fingers. Almost as though someone had reached inside him and squeezed the organ with their bare hands.” He tapped the screen and a high-res scan appeared where the liver showed in color while the body and tissues around it rendered in grey tones.