Dorian glided in the door, which opened a few seconds after he passed. Morelli startled, staring at the empty hallway. He glanced at Kirsten, shivered, and buried his attention in his terminal. Dorian snickered and took his seat at the desk behind her.
“Good morning. You certainly slept in.” Kirsten grumbled at the rapid flashing contents of three holo-panels over her desk. “You’d think they’d be able to make a computer search faster with all this tech.”
Dorian grinned. “The faster computers get, the more data we force them to chew on. Hardware gains speed, software gains size and complexity. It’s like running uphill in mud. As long as computers exist and as long as computers will exist, the people who use them will call them slow.”
“I finally got a look at him last night.”
“Oh?” Nicole perked up. “Who?”
Dorian grumbled. “Damn. Sorry I wasn’t there. Burned a lot of energy with those idiots.”
Kirsten inhaled her lungs full of coffee-scented air. “What did you do to that guy anyway?”
“Tried to scare him catatonic.” I have no idea what he wound up seeing, but I tried to go over the top… skeleton, bloody wounds, and so on.”
“The ghost wasn’t interested in talking. I walked in on him trying to crush the heart of one of the vics. He ran like hell. I’m sure he’s quite pissed off and taking it out on anyone who has his parts. I’ve gotta find that damn ripper doc.”
“And do what?” asked Dorian. “You’ll never be able to get official charges to stick based on a ghost’s testimony.”
She sighed, looking around at the walls for answers. “Maybe the ghost can lead us to physical evidence… If I can get him to talk. We have to try to do something. I’m so sick of waiting around for him to attack someone and hoping I can get there fast enough.”
“Well you’ve got a number of people who’ve been attacked… they’ve all had organ replacements?”
“Two don’t fit the pattern, but I’m not sure about Seraphina. The girl from the orbital construction platform was injured, but only had her legs broken. That doesn’t seem like it should require organ replacement. All the damage happened below the hips.”
Nicole lost interest and opened a Net crawler while munching on an egg sandwich.
“Maybe you can trace the heart from that Dominguez woman?” asked Dorian.
“That’s what I’m trying to do.” She scowled at the computer, and looked back at Dorian. It stopped. She whipped back around to face her terminal screens. “Hit!”
According to the records from the Easley Military Medical Center, one Dominguez, Julia R. was approved for a transplant heart received from a donor by the name of Darius Cook. Kirsten put a finger on that name and flung it at a holo-panel to the right of the one displaying the medical file. Within four seconds, a mugshot of a young black man appeared. Glowing blue NanoLED tattoos circled above both eyebrows and ran down the sides of his head in what appeared to be ancient runes.
“Pantheon,” said Dorian.
“What?” Kirsten glanced back at him for a second.
“It’s a street gang. Started on Mars, came down here about nine years ago give or take… or at least we noticed them nine years ago. They adopt a lot of affectations of very ancient pagan religions, but it’s all for show and intimidation―no actual belief.”
Kirsten swallowed. “I don’t like this…”
“I’m ninety-nine percent sure this is not another Konstantin situation. There’s no ancient mysticism going on here… just a lot of drugs and people who think that stuff is cool.”
“Hmm.” She swiped at the screen. “Darius… Age twenty-four. Died three months ago to ‘gang violence.’ No listed next of kin. Also no record of him being a donor… looks like the hospital helped themselves to his parts. The spirit I saw didn’t look anything like him.” Kirsten narrowed her eyes at the face of a dead man, tapping a finger to her lips. Darius, you weren’t trying to crush Julia’s heart… so what happened to you? Did you even exist? She turned to the left-most screen and the chat system, and poked Sam Chang’s entry.
His face appeared in under a second, grinning. “Hey. Morning.”
“Sam, can you―”
Nicole landed on her shoulder with one arm across her back, heads touching. “Oh, he is so in love with you.”
Sam blushed.
Kirsten shoved her off, red-faced herself and giggling from nerves. “Nikki! Do you mind?”
“Nope,” chirped Nicole. She took four steps backward and fell into her chair.
“Ugh. Sorry.” Kirsten couldn’t look at either of them.
“She’s right.” Sam cleared his throat. “What’cha need?”
Kirsten dragged Darius onto the chat window. “Can you tell me if this guy is real?”
“Oh, I thought you were going to ask me for something hard.”
Nicole almost fell off her chair laughing.
Kirsten wanted to crawl under the desk.
Dorian coughed.
“Not you, too!” rasped Kirsten.
Her spectral partner raised his hands. “He said it.”
“And you thought it!” She grumbled.
Sam looked down with the face of a scolded schoolboy. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault my squad room is full of twelve-year-olds.” Kirsten fumed from embarrassment.
“Got it.” Sam glanced at something off to his right. “Darius Cook appears to be real, or at least was. Youngest son of Lawrence and Davina Cook. Guess he came along late. His next closest sibling is… oh, was, forty-three. Parents are listed deceased, natural causes. Oldest brother was killed in action on Mars, UCF Marines. Sister is apparently still alive. Her listing says she moved to a colony world, but doesn’t specify which one. The middle brother died two years ago, also gang related.”
Kirsten fidgeted. “Can you find any record of donating his organs? What facility processed his remains?”
“Easley got him… and no. No donor record.”
She stood. “Can you go deep? I’m coming.”
Nicole fell out of her chair, crimson-faced and gasping for air between laughs.
Kirsten glared at the ceiling. “I am on my way to where you are located.”
Dorian battled a smile off his face, lost his composure, and snickered.
“You’re both impossible.” Kirsten stomped toward the door, shaking her head.
irsten glared at the windscreen for the entire ten-minute ride to the Regional Tech Center. She landed the patrol craft and stormed across the roof to the entrance. As the doors slid open with a hiss, she pivoted toward Dorian.
“Thanks for not asking why I didn’t just stay on the vid with him.”
Dorian followed her in, smiling. “Well, I figured you were either putting some space between you and Nicole before you got seriously angry with her… or you wanted to see Sam. Shall I wait in the car?”
Kirsten smiled. “It’s okay. Not like we’re going to get cute in the middle of the network room. Besides, I think your friend misses you. Sam said he’s taken down all the ofuda and incense sticks.”
Dorian snickered.
After a short walk to another elevator, and a longer corridor to a Division 2 network room, Kirsten resisted the urge to bounce down three steps into the sunken room. Fourteen workstations sat by spider-like arrangements of arms holding up holo-bars. Raised floor tiles clicked and shifted under her boots; gaps revealed a rat’s nest of wires in the six-inch space between walking surface and actual floor. Five other men slumped over in their chairs, their consciousness lost via wires to the virtual world.
Sam grinned at her from his desk while the fuchsia-haired woman near the middle of the room shot Kirsten her usual territorial glare.
Kirsten glanced at her. What’s your problem? Not like you were interested in him.
The woman jumped as if startled, and grabbed her neck. Once the initial shock wore off, she gave Kirsten a beckoning look and wandered down a narrow interior ha
ll toward the ladies’ room.
“One sec, Sam.” Kirsten headed after her.
Dorian sauntered up behind the arrogant tech who’d assumed Kirsten clueless about computers. He cracked his knuckles, wiggled his fingers with anticipation, and stuck his hand into the terminal.
Kirsten entered the bathroom, treating it like an unsecured crime scene. Once she noted the pink-haired techie woman sat on a counter bearing a row of sinks a good fifteen feet from the door, (and didn’t appear about to attack her) she relaxed.
“I don’t trust blondes.” The girl folded her arms. “Sam’s a good friend, almost like my kid brother.”
“He said you never spoke to him.”
The girl sighed. “He’s not great with soft skills. Some part of his brain was likely afraid he’d blow his chances with you if he acknowledged me in any way.”
“Do you normally flash your tits in your brother’s face?” Kirsten set her hands on her hips.
“Can we skip the catty shit please?” The tech let her arms drop. “I just don’t want him to get hurt. You seemed so… out of it and snobby… like you were messing with him. You practically had this ‘oh, gawd, the nerd is looking at me’ thing going. They said you were an arm-hanger of this dude like richer than the whole UCF.”
Kirsten slouched and walked over to lean her butt against the counter next to the girl. “That ‘dude’ is dead. I killed him, and the demon he turned into after he got back up.” She traced a finger around her bare right wrist. “I wasn’t myself. I don’t know if you believe in supernatural things, but I had a demon forcing me to idolize that man. When I was near Sam, I got sick… The real part of me felt an attraction to him, but the thing in the bracelet hurt me.”
“Is that why you threw up on his desk?” The girl covered her mouth to mute a gasp. “I thought you were like disgusted that a techie was into you.”
“No.” She smiled. “Sam’s way more my speed than that old bastard.”
“I’m Piper.” She offered a hand. “Truce?”
Kirsten accepted. “Truce.”
Piper pulled her closer, nose-to-nose, smiling. “Okay. But if you hurt him, I will motherfucking rule your life from the net. You won’t be rid of me unless you’re living in the Badlands, forty miles from anything plugged in. Got me?”
“I understand you, but you should know my partner’s a ghost, and very protective. I imagine his response to that would be draining the power out of everything technological you tried to use, and leaving you stranded in a veritable Badlands of nonfunctioning hardware.”
“Harsh.” Piper shivered. “Look, just don’t hurt him. He’s brittle.”
Kirsten shot a sad smile at the floor. “Maybe I’m taking things a bit too slow.” I should have that apple pie before it’s too late.
“Hey.” Piper clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Sort your baggage, but be honest with him. ‘Kay?”
“I will.” Kirsten pushed off the sink. “Kinda in a hurry. Maybe we can talk more later? This case is kicking my ass.”
“We’ll see.” Piper winked.
Kirsten left the bathroom, and stopped dead in her tracks at the entrance to the tech room floor. The arrogant guy sat cross-legged on his office chair in the pose of a Buddhist monk with a large wireframe pyramid over his head and dozens of crystals arranged around his workstation, which displayed a series of crash dump screens.
Dorian had flopped in the chair next to Sam’s desk, in tears from laughter.
Kirsten, shaking her head, hurried over. “Sam?”
He whirled about and looked up at her. “Hey. You two didn’t kill each other.”
“Nope.” She leaned down and kissed him. When their lips pulled apart a minute later, she stared into his eyes. “I’m sorry I don’t have more time.”
“Yeah, it’s cool. I found something.” He gestured at the holo-panel. “Darius Cook was killed in a shootout with Diablos. I have the autopsy scans here.” A fifteen-inch long holographic apparition of Darius’s body floated over the desk, rotating to show wounds. “As you can see, he took three slugs center mass. Coroner’s report listed them as 13mm hollow points. Class 5 pistol rounds. There wouldn’t have been enough left of his heart to transplant into a mouse.”
“They couldn’t have repaired it?” asked Kirsten.
Sam shrugged. “I’m not a doctor, but look at it.” A fist-sized mass of fleshy ribbons levitated away from the virtual Darius. “If they can remake that into a heart for transplant, it’s probably as expensive as regenerating the patient’s own tissue. There’s no benefit.”
“Looks like I’m going to Easley.” Kirsten gave his hand a squeeze. “The first time I have a sane minute, I’d like you to come over.”
Sam grinned. “I’d like that.”
“Sane minute?” Dorian shook his head. “Poor boy’s going to be waiting awhile.”
Kirsten laughed.
“Uhh…” Sam looked terrified.
“Dorian said something funny. It’s not you.” She leaned down to kiss him. “You’ll have to get used to me sometimes reacting to spirits.”
Sam melted into his chair; the way his clothes flattened conjured the image of a deflated person. “Sorry. I understand. See you soon?”
“I hope so… Wish me luck.” She walked backward two steps. I’m as scared as you are about it, but I might be falling in love.
His face reddened, though he grinned.
Dorian approached the meditating tech, holding his hand as if about to knock several crystals over.
“Stop,” whispered Kirsten. “You’re going to break him.” She waved for him to follow. “We’ve gotta go.”
He caught up to her by the door. “You know, Theodore might have something. There is a certain degree of amusement to be had in messing with idiots.”
“That one’s wound too tight.” Kirsten jogged for the elevator. “If this turns out to be another dead end, I’m going to need Doctor Loring to talk me down from doing something stupid.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.” Dorian walked through the closed doors into the elevator.
Neither do I.
asley Military Medical Center sat within visual range of the Edmonson Memorial Starport. Bright lights from the ground cast three massive ships in a wash of harsh shadows, except for tiny dots of glowing windows. Kirsten shuddered at the memory of her last visit to the place; a man crushed under the landing gear of a Mars-Earth passenger shuttle. She looked away from the distant ‘hole’ in the city structure, where a safety-standoff prevented construction of anything too tall within a certain distance deemed necessary in case of an accident. It seemed ludicrous given the sizes of some of the vessels that landed there as well as the population density of the surroundings… plus the elevated city. If something went seriously wrong with a starship coming in to land, the death toll would be astronomical.
She landed in a spot labeled ‘visitors’ a decent walk from the main entrance, surrounded by warning signs indicating MedVan lanes were not to be blocked off. Within seconds of opening the door, the acrid burn of Cryomil fumes from the distant starport scorched the inside of her nostrils and throat. Kirsten coughed, sneezed, and spat twice on the textured plasticrete before getting out.
“Damn, it’s stronger up here than it was on the tarmac.” Dorian made a snorting noise. “Must be riding the wind up… I can taste it and I’m dead.”
Her attempt to laugh caused her eyes to water. She jogged for the facility doors, eager to get out of the foul-smelling air.
A few two-foot wide orb bots, painted dark blue and white, glided around the parking area. Both had a single rotating yellow flasher on top of them, and the word ‘Security’ stenciled on their sides. Each carried a tiny version of a minigun canted upward at a safed angle on the front of the bottom half. It looked sized for pistol rounds, but the mere sight of it hurt.
Well, this is technically a military installation.
Unease gripped her. The last time she got too close to sold
iers, she wound up shot three times. I wonder how Commissioner Vernon is doing…
A pair of doors opened at the western edge of the roof deck, allowing her entry to a corridor that descended at a gentle angle for at least fifty yards. The logo of the medical center―EMMC―interrupted a thick green stripe along both walls at about chest level.
Kirsten hurried past a few offices and another door marked security, jogging until the ground levelled out. Holograms floated near the ceiling, indicating ‘emergency arrivals’ were to go left, ‘admitting’ straight ahead, and ‘gift shop,’ ‘cafeteria,’ ‘information,’ ‘physical therapy,’ ‘cybernetic services,’ and ‘other’ all pointed right. She headed right, moving past a few skinny female dolls in white scrubs who stood motionless by hover-chairs, waiting to be needed. An antiseptic chemical fragrance finally displaced the memory of starship fuel from her nose.
“That is so damn creepy,” said Dorian. “Why do they need to make machines look so much like people when they have them function like machines? Those ‘women’ standing around with vacant stares is just… wrong.”
“I don’t know.” She diverted to an information desk staffed by two women and a man in camouflage uniforms. A petite woman with a cute face, dark skin, and cornrows was closest, so she approached her. “Excuse me, Sergeant.”
The attendant looked up. Her expression betrayed momentary shock, presumably taking Kirsten for a young teenager before she spotted the badge, stood, and saluted. “Lieutenant. What can I do for you?”
“I need to see whoever is in charge of overseeing organ transplants. I’m here in an official capacity pursuant to an active Inquest.”
“Umm… I’ve no idea who that could be.” She sat behind her terminal. “Bear with me a moment.”
Kirsten waited while the woman tapped away at her terminal for a few minutes.
“Okay, you’ll want to talk with Doctor Drew Samuels. He’s in the other tower, sixtieth floor at the offices. Looks like he’s in now. Do you want me to let him know you’re on the way up?”
“No rank?”
The young sergeant smiled. “Most of the medical staff is privatized. Some of the medtechs and a handful of doctors rotate in from active duty, but we need them out in the field where the civilian doctors don’t want to be.”
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