Guardian

by Matthew S. Cox

“My first instinct is to cremate them and add them to the rest of his remains, but I haven’t found them yet. Give me a moment to finalize the paperwork. They’ll need to remain as evidence during the investigation into the illegal procurement. I’m not taking chances. If you have a more discreet container, I’m going to maintain custody of them until I can turn them in back west.”

  “No problem, Lieutenant.” Medtech Hernandez smiled. “I’ll grab a tote. Coffee?”

  “Sure. Mocha?”

  He nodded.

  Dorian poked his head out of the wall again. “No sign of him out here.”

  Five minutes or so later, Hernandez returned with a bioplastic cup in one hand and a white medical case in the other. “Coffee and kidneys to go.”

  “I’m hoping she’s no longer at risk from spectral attack since the source of the spirit’s anger isn’t inside her. Maybe if I get lucky, he’ll come after them right to me.” She shied away from the tank and took a sip. Not bad. Very not bad for a vending machine. “I need to get back… There are others at risk. I’d love to stay to be with her when she’s out of that tank, but… forty hours… the spirit might attack one of the other victims. Oh, please tell her if anything paranormal happens to say out loud that she didn’t know the kidneys were stolen and they’re no longer inside her.”

  “I’m sure she’ll understand and will be quite grateful for your assistance, as strange as this whole thing sounds.” Hernandez returned to a console and smiled at her. “I’ll make sure she knows you got pulled away because you had to assist someone else.”

  “I’ll call her at least… when she wakes up.” Kirsten hurried out, eager to be away from the nauseating spectacle going on in the tank.

  Riya looked up from the bench seat outside the room. “How’d it go?”

  “She’s having her kidneys re-grown. Going to be in there for almost two full days. The spirit’s after these.” She held up the cooler case. “I don’t think she’s in any danger now. If you don’t mind, I could use a ride back to the starport.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Riya leapt up and saluted her.

  Riya drove somewhat more gently with a box of body parts in the car. For the duration of the ride from Lindsey’s apartment to the starport, Kirsten kept her non-coffee-bearing hand on the case and tried to use the organs as a focus for a beacon, calling out to whatever spirit belonged to them.

  Nothing showed up by the time they landed.

  After yet another salute, Kirsten bade Cadet Shah farewell, and walked up the moving stairs into the starport. She dodged around a pair of young men trying to hand out plasfilm sheets bearing a religious message for some sect she’d never even heard of before, and hurried deep enough into the terminal for them not to bother following.

  “You must be in a good mood.” Dorian chuckled. “No sarcastic comments?”

  “It’s not my job to tell people what to believe. I just wish they’d stop trying to force it down my throat.” She grumbled.

  He squeezed chill into her left shoulder. “My little Kirsten has almost grown up. Lieutenant bars, now this.”

  She gave him a raspberry.

  After booking the soonest shuttle flight to West City she could, she started walking to a Cyberburger halfway between the main atrium and the terminal area.

  “You don’t want to do that,” said Dorian.

  “What? That fast food is unhealthy thing is a myth someone resurrected from the pre-war days. It’s all OmniSoy. No worse than anything else made from beige goo.”

  “Not that. You’re in a starport. The prices are like triple what they should be… taking advantage of convenience and tourists.”

  Kirsten grumbled.

  “Oh, come on. It’s a twenty-minute flight. You can wait.” He shrugged. “If you want to spend ninety credits for crap, go right ahead.”

  She walked into the place far enough to read the menu board. Sure enough, the prices looked more like a fancy hydroponic eatery that used chicken, beef, and pork grown in vats where specially trained caretakers read haikus over soothing music to the meat twenty-four hours a day. “Dammit.”

  “One of these days, you’ll believe me.”

  Kirsten tromped to the terminal. She skipped the security scanner with a flash of her ID and took a seat in the waiting area. Having about a half hour to kill before the flight, she set the white case between her feet and got to work updating the report on the file via her armband.

  Dorian’s hand chilled her shoulder. “Heads up. About forty yards left by the advertisement for the blue dress. Stay calm.”

  Kirsten peeled her attention off the endless scroll of text and images. Even though it had to get done, watching the crowd appealed far more than the damn reports, especially on such a small screen and typing one handed. Screw it. I’ll finish this at the office. What the fuck? She gawked.

  The boy who’d shot Nicole, and his bitch of a mother, strolled through the starport as casually as could be. The child spotted her, pointed, and got an eager look in his eye. Before his mother could do anything about it, he darted away and came running at Kirsten.

  She stood, barely suppressing a tremble of rage, her hand edging for her stunrod.

  “Hi, Officer,” said the boy. “I wanna be a cop when I grow up.”

  Kirsten narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you doing here?”

  His mother trotted over and grasped his shoulders. “I’m sorry. Cop this week, doctor last week…”

  You spat in my face a few days ago and now you’re smiling at me? Kirsten’s knuckles creaked. How the hell are they free? “It’s no bother…”

  The woman pulled on him. “Come on, Julián. She’s obviously busy.”

  “Are you mad?” asked Julián.

  Kirsten, in an effort to not scream, broke her rule and plunged into his thoughts. He had no memory of her at all; aside from a little confusion as to why she glared at them, he thought cops were cool. She flicked her gaze to the woman. Again, no active recollection of who she was existed… the woman interpreted her scowl at being annoyed at the boy bothering her.

  “Have we met?”

  The woman shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  Kirsten swallowed a twinge of queasiness. “What’s your opinion on people with psionic talents?”

  Julián’s eyes lit up. “They’re awesome! Like superheroes from the vids. I wanna be one of those when I grow up too.”

  “No different than someone with another skin color,” said the mother. “It’s a shame people are so prejudiced against them.”

  “Wow,” whispered Dorian. “I guess that’s one way to deal with an issue.”

  “How’s your husband doing, Vicki?”

  The woman blinked. “How did you know my name?” She stared. “Are you psionic?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Cool!” yelled Julián.

  “Oh, nice to meet you.” Vicki grinned. “I’ve never been married. Julián’s father… I worked on Mars for a while as a waitress. He came in one night on leave; we had a fling. He was off planet before I knew Julián was on the way. I never could find him.”

  Kirsten put a hand on her stomach to hold back the sick. “Do you have any other children?”

  “My brother Manuel is goin’ to school on Mars.” Julián beamed. “He’s gonna be twenty in a couple of weeks. We’re going up to visit him.”

  Vicki squeezed his shoulders. “He hasn’t been on Mars since he was an embryo. I don’t think he remembers it.” She winked.

  “Uhh. Sounds nice.” Kirsten glanced to her left at Dorian who raised his hands in a ‘not touching this’ gesture. “I need to catch a shuttle. Nice meeting you.”

  “You too.” Vicki started away, but paused as Julián snapped to attention and saluted Kirsten.

  She returned it feeling confused, and watched the two of them wander off with the crowd heading for the exit. “Dorian, what did I just witness?”

  “That, my dear Kirsten, is why people run the other way when Lieutenant C
ommander Ashford walks by.”

  “That’s… so wrong.” She shivered.

  “More wrong than executing her for attempted murder of an officer and orphaning that boy? More wrong than a ten year old hating psionics enough to want to kill them?”

  “Do you think the older boy’s really on Mars? Or did they sentence him and his dad to death?” She held her stomach, grateful Dorian had talked her out of eating.

  “I’m guessing they sent him to Mars. Otherwise, they wouldn’t remember him at all.”

  “Like the father…”

  Dorian looked away. “Yeah. Like him. Maybe they split them up to prevent the memory overlay from peeling. I don’t know.”

  “Attention passengers,” said a female voice over the PA. “PubTran shuttle to West City for 4:30 departure will be boarding in five minutes. Registered seat holders should proceed to Terminal 8A at this time.”

  Kirsten picked up the organ case and trudged toward the terminal. Someone had completely changed who those people were. The thought of it scared her in a way she’d never considered fear before, but some part of her couldn’t help but think it a better fate than execution.

  But not by much.

  irsten’s eyes popped open. Her bedroom hung still and silent, save for the muted hum of the occasional hovercar out at―she rolled onto her side and stared at the holographic clock―4:05 in the morning. Worry tickled at her gut. She shook off the reins of sleep and slipped out of bed, tugging her nightshirt down around her thighs as she tiptoed out into the corridor. The huge windowed wall behind her let in enough ambient city light to illuminate the corridor to Evan’s bedroom.

  Soft whimpers and grunts came from within.

  She pushed the door open, finding him curled up in the corner of the room in his boxers, cringing and shivering much the same way she’d found him in his birth mother’s apartment. An angry bruise wrapped around the left side of his ribcage.

  “Evan!” she ran over and fell on her knees next to him. “Ev!”

  He startled awake, stared at her in stunned silence with the same expression he’d given her when she’d burst into his old room. It took him a second to finish waking out of his nightmare. He calmed, and cradled his side. “Ow. Ow. Shit.”

  Kirsten scooped him up. His hard little body tensed; muscles swelled out of his shoulders and neck. She whirled about to follow his line of sight; the closet looked empty.

  “What?”

  “Monster. I thought I saw a shadow.”

  She set him on the Comforgel pad.

  “No.” He clung.

  “I’m going to look in the closet.”

  He seemed conflicted for a second, but kept clinging.

  Kirsten picked him up again and crept up to the closet, opening the door with her left foot. Only coats, toys, and games. She let off a psionic pulse, but the feeble sense of energy in the area could’ve been nothing more than the aftereffect of a days-old blockade.

  “If there was something here, it’s extremely weak.” She nuzzled the top of his head and kissed him.

  He gritted his teeth. “Is that why it’s giving me nightmares?” The bruise faded to a yellowish mark.

  She bit her lip. If something external was responsible, that made her feel better and pissed off all at the same time. “Maybe. Do you think it’s a ghost?”

  He nodded.

  “Have you seen it?” She carried him to the kitchen and shifted his weight to her left hip to free one arm. After dialing up a cheeseburger, she carried him and the food back to her bed. “Gotta pee. Be right back.”

  He devoured the late night snack before she returned, and cuddled up at her side when she climbed in. Kirsten wrapped her arms around him, glaring at the wall. Come on, whatever you are. Try something when I’m here.

  At 5:59 a.m., Kirsten reached out and hovered a finger over the alarm. Having remained awake, she killed the blare one second after it started. Evan had a hand up to his face as though sucking his thumb, but fell short of putting the digit in his mouth. She let him sleep another two minutes, watching him breathe and worrying that he’d started to get too skinny again.

  He’s healing himself too much. Dammit.

  Gentle tickling swipes of her fingernails over his bare belly roused him laughing. While he headed off to shower, she scoured his room for any traces of paranormal energy. Under his pillow, she found a sharp steak knife, with dried blood near the handle. It bore a weak imprint of energy, but no longer remained bound. She glared at it until the wave of anger gave way to worry. Against her better judgement, she put it on the little night table between a model castle and a dragon figurine. The idea of Evan cutting himself pained her, but not as much as him being helpless against a spectral force.

  He walked in surrounded by the steamy smell of autoshower soap and wearing clean briefs. At the sight of the knife, he froze, looking frightened and guilty. Kirsten held her arm up, inviting him into a hug.

  He ran over.

  “Evan. I’m disappointed that you didn’t tell me about it or ask.”

  “You would’ve said no.”

  “Maybe… but I need you to trust me.”

  He looked up, shocked. “I do!”

  “I don’t want you keeping a sharp knife under your pillow. You could hurt yourself in your sleep.”

  “Okay.” He looked down.

  “Until we figure out what’s going on, I’m going to trust you to keep it here… but not under your damn pillow.”

  He blinked. “Really?”

  She held him by the shoulders and nodded. “Yes. Really. But… I want you to come get me if something comes after you. Don’t attack it if you can get out of the room, okay? That knife is only if you have no other choice.”

  Evan nodded. “‘Kay.”

  “Get ready for school.”

  He ran to the wardrobe. She grumbled at the closet before getting up to go to grab a quick shower. Eleven minutes later and in uniform, she headed to the kitchen to make breakfast. Evan, dressed, sat at the table and checked his homework from the previous day. Over eggs and syn-bacon, he rambled about the testing. The Division 0 medical staff agreed with the theory that he’d caused the bruises himself, but as far as they could tell, he wasn’t able to do it on purpose with his conscious mind.

  “I think I was too scared. Whenever I thought about it, I didn’t wanna get hurt. In the dream, it’s my sleepy brain doing it.”

  Kirsten wanted to devote every waking minute to figuring out what was going on, but the harvester ghost was getting stronger. She couldn’t take days off now; if someone died, she’d never live down the guilt. “I’m going to ask Theodore to stay with you tonight, okay?”

  “No way, Mom. I’ll wake up with a wedgie so hard it’ll be over my head.”

  She laughed, spraying eggs.

  “Put an EM sensor in my closet.”

  “Those things are toys.” She considered it for the span of a few breaths. “I’m not sure if they even work.”

  “Ask Dorian to test one.” He leaned back in the chair, dangling an entire piece of bacon over his face with two fingers before dropping it into his mouth.

  “Well, I suppose we could try. If it doesn’t work, blockade your room.”

  “‘Kay.” He carried the empty plate to the dishwasher.

  Kirsten tended to her dishes, and they made their way to the roof, and the patrol craft.

  Dorian looked up from his desk when Kirsten walked back into the squad room. “What did you order?”

  “Aside from coffee and lunch… a gadget.” She handed sandwiches out to Nicole, Forrester, and Morelli before glancing at the six empty desks. “We’re short staffed.”

  “Just waiting on a few more to ripen out of Admin.” Dorian winked. “Unless you want to arm tweens.”

  “Tactical’s overstuffed.” Nicole mumbled past a mouthful of sausage-and-peppers sandwich. “That’s why we’re invading an I-Ops room.”

  Squad Corporal Forrester smiled, content not to talk over hi
s turkey club.

  “Ghost-tech EM pod.” Dorian laughed. “Seriously?”

  Kirsten unpacked a black box about the size of her fist with two collapsible antennas. “It’s supposed to make noise and lights if a ghost comes within a few feet of it. Something’s messing with Evan at night.” She glared. “He suggested this as an alarm. Can you test it?”

  She put it on her desk and turned it on.

  “How does it work?” asked Dorian.

  “Get close to it I guess.” She shrugged.

  Dorian, shaking his head, got up and approached it. Much to everyone’s surprise, the device lit up and made a buzzing alarm noise when his hand came within a few inches of the antenna. “How ‘bout that… it does work.”

  “Wow. I was not expecting that.” Kirsten shut it off and sat down. She unboxed her cayenne pepper chicken sandwich and held it up to her mouth. At almost the exact second her first bite closed, her terminal and NetMini lit up. She mumbled, “Omf, fmmk ooo.”

  The image of a Division 1 patrol officer appeared over her desk. “Good morning, Lieutenant.” The tag information on the right side of the comm window identified him as Senior Patrol Officer (E4) Warren Garber.

  She waved the sandwich at him as a halfhearted salute. “Mmmng.”

  “It’s not urgent, but… you’re the woman who deals with the weird shit, right?” asked SPO Garber.

  Kirsten nodded after taking another bite. Spice made her head sweat.

  “I got a CI who says he’s seeing all sorts of weird shit. Sounds like the kinda stuff from one of those ghost shows.” SPO Garber waved his hand around in a circle. “You know… Banging in the dark, stuff moving around on its own. Scratches, unexplained pain.”

  She almost choked as she sucked in air. “Pain?” Shit. Another organ case? “Who’s this CI?”

  “It’s confidential, so please don’t put it in your records. The guy’s name is Sanjay Rao, but he goes by Fizzle on the street. He’s a chem dealer who’s been feeding me info on some of the stuff we try to clamp a lid on… Nightcandy, Lace, Phindara… he keeps his own business strictly in the realm of tamer chems we couldn’t care less about, but his info’s good. He’s helped us shut down two Lace labs already.”