Guardian

by Matthew S. Cox

  “Wren.” Captain Eze’s four-inch head appeared over her left arm. “Your ride is waiting by the main entrance. Tactical Officer Shah.”

  Crap. I totally forgot about what I’d do once we landed. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Since you didn’t ask, I figured you were too wound up to think about the details.” He chuckled. “Stay alert.”

  Kirsten smiled at him. “Will do, Captain.”

  The shuttle landed without incident three minutes later, and as soon as the docking collar clamped on over the door, she sprinted from her seat and rushed out into a terminal. An assault of food filled the air: hot pretzels, something sugary, frying chicken, and a good twenty yards of concourse filled with Indian and Middle Eastern food. People milled around the shops making it seem more like a mall than a busy shuttle terminal. Despite her growling stomach, she didn’t slow down until reaching the front entrance. A sudden change from appetizing to fetid air made the breath catch in her throat. This part of East City carried the stench of industrial waste mixed with the rotting diaper-pail aroma of low tide. Kirsten took small sips of air while she rode the moving stairs to the street level. A skinny armored figure with long black hair leaned against a conspicuous black patrol craft, with a helmet under her left arm.

  The girl looked like she belonged in eighth grade.

  “For the love of…” Dorian sighed. “That kid looks so fragile she probably needs that armor not to break bones riding in a hovercar.”

  For once, Kirsten felt large… it wasn’t often she had a height advantage, even a half-inch.

  “Lieutenant Wren.” The small woman saluted. “Tactical Officer Riya Shah. I’m honored to accompany you. I read over some of your old Inquests. Amazing stuff.”

  Kirsten returned the salute. “Uhh, thanks.”

  Shah grinned. “I’m seventeen, and yes I’m still in Admin, but I’m training for a tactical squad.”

  Dorian shrugged. “Older than I thought. Still, she’s young. Maybe you should drive?”

  “Hi.” Kirsten reluctantly got in the passenger side.

  Riya yanked the door open with surprising ease and leapt in. “I’ve already got your case on the Nav.”

  Kirsten grabbed the ‘oh shit’ handle as the car shot straight up into a turn so hard they rolled beyond sideways for a few seconds. Fearless, Riya threaded the needle between a pair of billboard-sized advert bots and slalomed up and down to dodge a series of street-spanning walkways linking buildings.

  Someone beeped; the horn lasted under a second. Riya flipped the bird over her shoulder, but didn’t bother looking. “I swear… people can’t drive here.”

  Kirsten glanced at Dorian. “Right…”

  “Can I ask you something, Lieutenant?” Riya jammed forward on the left stick, causing the car to drop four stories in a split second to evade a crossing stream of traffic.

  Kirsten’s ass left the seat until gravity returned, and she slammed down. “Ow. Shit. Uhh sure.”

  “Why’s everyone freaked out about mind blasters?” The tiny woman looked at her for an instant. “I mean… we’re on the same side right? I don’t understand. When I asked ‘what’s the big deal?’ I got the assignment to drive you around.”

  Kirsten frowned at the digital window. “Hypocrites. Every psionic grumbles about normal people being afraid of us because of what we ‘might’ do. The same idiots expect mind blasters to be dangerous because of what we might be able to do to them if we got angry. Best way to resist a psionic ability is to have that ability.” She made fists and tapped her knuckles together. “Fighting it with itself. It’s so rare they think we can wipe their mind out if they piss us off.”

  “Oh. Yeah, you’re right. That’s hypocritical.” She shook her head, making her thick hair fluff about. “They used to tease me for not being a ‘real’ psionic since I’m a bio-kinetic. I got a little telepathy… but I guess being able to bench 1760 pounds isn’t all that impressive.”

  Dorian coughed.

  “Damn.” Kirsten laughed. “You’re so small. I, uhh, really thought you were like twelve.”

  “You look like you’re fourteen.” Riya grinned and gave her a fist-bump. “Perps never expect us.”

  The cadet steered into a torturous right turn that climbed forty stories in the span of about a second. The patrol craft cleared the edge of a roof parking deck with inches to spare, plummeted to within five feet of the ground, and skidded sideways down a lane between parked cars before slamming to a halt and sinking onto its wheels as gentle as a landing feather.

  “Was that necessary?” Kirsten couldn’t quite will her fingers to release the handle above the door.

  “What?”

  “Landing this thing like a fighter craft.”

  Riya shrugged. “Guess you drive different on the West Coast. This is tame. I didn’t want anyone stealing the spot before we landed.”

  “But this is a police car.” Kirsten pushed the door open.

  “Yeah, and?” Riya blinked. “They’ll take the ticket… it’s like paying to park. Plus they know if we’re in a hurry, we probably don’t have the time to cite them.”

  Dorian gestured at the elevator some fifty yards away. “Lindsey?”

  Kirsten leapt out. “Shit. Come on.”

  She sprinted down the row of vehicles, entered a small glass-walled outbuilding on the roof, and raced to the nearest elevator. Two minutes nineteen seconds later, she pounded on the door to Lindsey Park’s apartment.

  A tiny light came on at about eye level (to a normal person) on the door. Kirsten looked up at it.

  “Who is it?” asked Lindsey’s voice from a tinny speaker.

  Dorian walked through the wall. “She sounds exhausted.”

  “Lieutenant Wren. We met on the Gravion platform. I need to speak to you.”

  “Oh.” The woman coughed. “Come in.”

  When the door opened via remote, Kirsten hurried in. Clothes scattered all over the living room floor and sofa made the place look like a teenager’s bedroom had expanded to fill an entire residence. The air hung thick, overly warm and laced with the smell of cheap Ramen. Kirsten checked an empty kitchen and small laundry nook before heading to the right down a narrow hallway where a bathroom and bedroom door faced each other at the end.

  Lindsey lay on the bed under a blanket, her shoulders and arms covered by white long-sleeved pajamas with a repeating pattern of grinning cartoon kittens. Half-closed eyes regarded Kirsten; she looked pale.

  “What’s wrong?” Kirsten rushed over, leaned one hand on the bed and put the other on the woman’s forehead. “You’re burning.”

  “Haven’t been sleeping well. Lotta pain and I feel achy and shitty.” Lindsey shrugged. “I’d say I had a flu, but my head’s not stuffy at all.”

  Relief that the woman hadn’t died lessened the tension gripping Kirsten’s muscles. She sat on the edge of the Comforgel pad, but leapt up as though her butt settled on a hibachi grill. “Damn… you got that thing cranked.”

  “Hundred and two.” Dorian pointed at the climate control panel.

  “It’s been so damn cold in here.” She squirmed to sit up a little straighter. “Starting to get warm now. If you wanna turn it down, you can.”

  Dorian obliged by sticking his hand into the wall panel. Large green numbers shifted from 105 to 75.

  “Whoa… how’d you do that?” asked Lindsey.

  Kirsten took her hand. “Long story. Look… I need to tell you something that’s going to be hard to hear.”

  Lindsey sniffled. “I got fired didn’t I?”

  “Oh, no… I, uhh, at least I don’t think so. That’s not why I’m here.” Kirsten held eye contact. “Your kidneys were damaged as a result of your injury.”

  “Yeah. I know. They had to regenerate them. I was shocked. Gravion didn’t even try to weasel out of covering it.”

  “Uhh. Lindsey… You didn’t have a regeneration performed. You received transplant organs.”

  “What?” The little c
olor remaining in her cheeks faded. “Transplants? Oh, no… is that why I’m sick? Are they rejecting?” Tears ran down her cheeks. “Am I gonna die?”

  “No. You’re not going to die… at least not if I have anything to say about it. The kidneys you received were illegally obtained from a murder victim. Do you believe there are ghosts?”

  Lindsey shivered. “Uhh… before that thing happened on the platform, I would’ve laughed at you… but yeah. I think they’re real now.”

  “That man you saw is the victim. He’s angry that he was killed for parts, and he’s trying to hurt you because you have his kidneys.”

  Lindsey convulsed, grabbing her face.

  “Get a bucket,” said Dorian.

  Riya stood at Kirsten’s side, fidgeting and looking awkward.

  Kirsten put an arm around Lindsey and rubbed her back. “I’m trying to find the ghost. I won’t let him hurt you.”

  “The pain’s been… yeah. The kidneys. Those stingy sons of bitches.” Crying shifted to snarling. “I thought they were being good to me, but they went cheap. They said they paid for regens.” She dry heaved again. “I got a dead guy’s kidneys in me?”

  “A corporation took a shortcut? Gasp.” Dorian shook his head.

  Lindsey crawled to the edge of the bed and jumped down. Her pajama pants fell around her ankles as she landed, changing her attempt to run into a pratfall. Dorian looked away. Lindsey pulled them up, rolled onto her back, and tied the string at the waist before crawling to the desk. On her knees, she pounded a hand into the terminal until a login screen came up and she opened a Vidphone app.

  Kirsten walked over and stood behind her.

  Lindsey scratched the terminal like an angry housecat, tearing at an enormous contacts list until she hit the Gs. She punched her fist into the smiling round face of a heavyset looking woman with auburn hair.

  Thirty-six seconds later, the same woman appeared in hologram. “Miss Park. Oh, my. Are you okay?”

  “You lied to me.” Lindsey started to cry, but wound up growling. She pulled herself up to her feet with both hands on the desk, grunting as though it took great effort to stand or hurt quite a bit. “You said Gravion would cover regeneration… I got fucking transplants! Not only transplants, illegal ones. I’m dying!”

  The woman put a hand over her mouth and gasped. “Lindsey… are you sure? We… Hold on.”

  “Don’t put me on hold!” screamed Lindsey.

  “I’m not.” The woman held her hand up in a placating gesture. “I’m checking records. Just give me a few seconds okay?”

  Lindsey glared.

  Green lit the woman’s face from the side.

  “Who’s that?” whispered Kirsten.

  Lindsey glanced back, whispering, “Trisha Breem. She’s the HR/benefits administrator. She’s a VP, but she’s got an open door policy and she’s… well I thought she was nice.”

  “Lindsey,” said Trisha. “Your record shows we paid out on a regeneration process. Two million four hundred thousand. I’m sending the file over to you now. Are you certain about this?”

  “Miss Breem? I’m Lieutenant Wren with Division 0. I’m afraid it is true. Miss Park was given illegal organs.”

  “Someone at the hospital pocketed the difference I bet.” Dorian paced. “That part of it isn’t your problem, but you should flag the Div 2 corporate crimes task force in the Inquest when you file it.”

  Trisha’s mouth hung open. “Oh, my God, Lindsey… I had no idea. I’m so sorry. Don’t worry, hon. You get yourself to…” Patterns of light on her cheeks shifted; she glanced to the side as if reading something. “Go right to the nearest Amaranth Corporation facility. Give them my contact info. Umm, Lieutenant, would you be able to help her there? She looks too sick to even make it to a PubTran on her own.”

  Dorian stared, stunned.

  Lindsey sniffled. “Really? You’re serious? Amaranth?”

  “Damn right I’m serious.” Trisha scowled. “I’m going to send this down to legal as soon as we’re off the phone. I hope you decide to stay with us here at Gravion, Lindsey, but after this lawsuit settles, you might not need to work.”

  “I like my job. It’s fun.” Lindsey slumped back to her knees, crying. “I don’t wanna die. It hurts so much.”

  Trisha looked pained.

  “I’ll call in a MedVan.” Riya tapped on a small holo-panel over her left forearm.

  “K, look.” Dorian squatted and pointed at a strip of bare skin between Lindsey’s top and pants.

  Kirsten took a knee and pulled the woman’s shirt up. Two bruises on the small of her back approximated the shape of hands over the kidneys. “Shit. She could be bleeding internally.” She pulled out two stimpaks and applied them one after the next, creating a small raised patch of skin where the nanobot-laced fluid collected.

  Lindsey squealed. “That’s cold!” Her body went limp; Kirsten caught her and eased her to the floor. “Oh… that’s… nice.” She passed out.

  “I’ve never seen someone fall asleep after being shot full of synthetic adrenaline before.” Dorian blinked. “She had to have been awake for days… pain preventing her from sleeping.”

  “Should we move her?” asked Kirsten.

  Riya started for the door. “I dunno. Ask the medtechs when they get here. I’ll go meet them outside and lead them down.”

  Kirsten rolled Lindsey onto her back. While waiting, she reached out with her mind. A supernatural trace lingered, strong enough to recognize as the same entity she’d seen with his hand in Julia’s chest. She let her power ebb and opened her eyes. “Same guy.”

  “There’s ethereal smears in the Comforgel. I think he was on top of her… no discrete ‘prints,’ the residual contact has diffused in the gel.” Dorian looked around at the floor. “Doesn’t feel like he’s here anymore. This guy’s new. It’s taking a lot out of him to affect the living, even ones with his body parts.”

  Kirsten looked down at Lindsey’s belly, rising and falling with her breathing. “Dorian… could he be ‘sleeping’ inside his old kidneys?”

  “They might function like ‘remains.’ I’ve heard some spirits return to their bodies to recharge. Un-cremated remains are supposed to restore energy far better than ashes. Probably do in hours what it takes me days to do with the car.”

  “Why don’t you go sleep in your urn?” Kirsten glanced over at him as he wandered into the bathroom.

  “Too damn loud at that mausoleum. Imagine thousands of people living in apartments one cubic foot in size. Plus all the damn mourners.”

  There can’t be that many spirits there… he’s afraid of seeing his family. “Sounds annoying.”

  “You have no idea.” He sighed.

  Riya ran in a few minutes later, followed by two women and a man in white jumpsuits. The women guided a hover-stretcher between them; bright ion thrusters sent long shadows pivoting over the walls from the furniture as it moved.

  Kirsten gestured at the medics to wait. She pulled Lindsey’s pajama jacket up to expose her stomach and rested a hand over where a kidney should be. A second’s worth of concentration revealed a paranormal energy swirling around inside. She tried to force her will around it and draw it out. The spirit struggled, though its resistance felt weak―like she tried to pull a small child away from something they clung to. Annoyed, Kirsten concentrated, pouring more energy into her power. Lindsey’s eyes shot open and she screamed in agony.

  The spirit’s ‘grip’ came loose, and Kirsten lurched away as though a tug-of-war rope had snapped. The same hollowed-out man rocketed up out of Lindsey and passed through Kirsten with the chill of a torrent of ice water, knocking her over backwards. She shrieked from temperature shock and rolled onto her stomach, but the ghost raced into the wall before she could summon the presence of mind to oppose it.

  Dorian sprinted off.

  Two of the medtechs rushed to Lindsey while a dark-skinned woman with belt-length dreadlocks helped Kirsten sit up.

  “You okay, O
fficer?”

  She forced the word “Lieutenant” out past chattering teeth. “I hate it when they do that.”

  Lindsey passed out again.

  “Ruptured kidney,” said the other woman. “We gotta move her now!”

  “I’m good.” Kirsten waved the medtech off. “She needs you more than I do. Damn ghosts.”

  The medtech nodded. “Awright.”

  By the time they got Lindsey on the stretcher and out of the room, the paralytic chill had faded. Kirsten paced around, unsure if she should wait here in case Dorian caught the guy and dragged him back, or run around aimlessly searching for wherever a ghostly fistfight might be taking place.

  “Are we going with them?” asked Riya.

  Kirsten halted and looked at her. If he gets away from Dorian, he’s going to go after her again. “Yeah. Good idea.”

  Six feet away from a medical tank, Kirsten fidgeted and tried not to watch the gory events occurring within. Amaranth Medical Corporation pumped pleasant music throughout the facility, and the procedure room even had a coffee machine. The staff hadn’t protested her presence, though they did remain skeptical about spirits.

  An hour and forty minutes after the tank flooded to the top, Lindsey Park’s borrowed kidneys detached from all connections and floated free from her body. Nodules of developing tissue formed around the blood vessels in the region, lumps of grey-maroon proto-kidney that would―over the course of the next thirty to forty hours―grow into new organs made with her own DNA. For all intents and purposes, they would be her kidneys. She thought about using the removed organs as some kind of ritual object to force the spirit to show up, but the thought proved too grotesque to consider beyond a few seconds.

  She forced herself to watch them swim to the top of the tank, propelled within the peach-colored gel by millions of microscopic robots. Minutes later, a medtech removed them from a hatch on the wall next to the tank, in a small canister of the same gel.

  “What should we do with these, Lieutenant?” asked a young man with the name ‘Hernandez’ on his coat.