Guardian

by Matthew S. Cox

  Kirsten met him by the coffee table. “Sorry. This case is so frustrating. I have some good news and some not so good.”

  Charles folded his arms. Laney sat on the edge of the sofa, leaning forward, gaze off in a random direction as though she focused every ounce of her attention on hearing. She tapped the Nanochroma to one of her pink toenails, turning it green.

  “We got the three men who killed you as well as the ripper doc who processed your organs and ran the harvesting operation. The little guy with red hair didn’t survive his arrest. Citycams caught the entire thing. We’ve got video of your murder. It’s all but guaranteed those two will be convicted.” Kirsten studied the tips of her boots. “The senator… I can’t touch him. It’s like having a gun to my head. Command won’t support an investigation because he’s got enough influence to possibly disband Division 0… he’s already threatened to have my son taken away from me if he thinks I’m even trying to go after him.”

  Charles glared. “You can’t let him kill me and laugh it off.”

  Laney looked worried and a touch angry as well. “Charlie… maybe it’s not so bad? She got the men who actually killed you. You’re still here for me. What if she’s telling the truth? The man’s a senator. What’s one cop gonna do?”

  “Especially without any real evidence,” said Dorian. “The kind of foundation you need to take on someone that high up can’t be built on the backs of ghosts. The legal system won’t admit psionic evidence, and… ghosts, they’d laugh straight out of a courtroom.”

  “So you’re saying your kid’s more important than making him pay for a murder?” Charles leaned toward her. “You said taken away, not hurt.”

  Kirsten hardened her glare. “I’m sorry, Charles, but yes. My son is the most important thing in my life. If I thought I had a reasonable chance of nailing that bastard, I would, but all I’m going to do by going after him is get a lot of people drowning in a river of shit.” She stormed two steps to the left, growling. “I don’t like it either. Is there any way you can find peace with us getting those three men and the doctor? Will that let you move on?”

  “No,” whined Laney. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  Charles sighed. “She’s been like a different person with me here all the time. Even spoke to the woman in the adjacent apartment yesterday. I can’t be happy with you walking away, Wren. That girl, Seraphina, is tilting suicidal again. I don’t want you to give up. If she kills herself, my ass died for absolutely no reason whatsoever. You think I’m angry now, watch me if she dies.”

  Kirsten put her hands on her hips and shifted to face him. “I know… I know… I can’t kill the senator.”

  “I’m stuck here until he answers for what he did.” Charles scowled.

  “He eventually will when the Harbingers come for him.”

  Dorian glanced at Kirsten. “That’s assuming he’s got their attention. No offense, Charles, but one murder in this city might not stand out.”

  “He’s a damn senator,” spat Charles. “They should already be after him.”

  Dorian stifled a laugh. “I like this guy.”

  “You want me to wait around until he dies and hope they get him? I don’t know if I can contain myself that long. This… anger is pulling me to take what’s mine back from those who stole it. I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

  “That’s your anger or attachment, Charles.” Kirsten concentrated for a second to align her body with the astral world, and put her hand on his shoulder. “If you can focus on letting go of it, you could transcend.”

  “No,” whispered Laney. “Please don’t leave me alone.”

  “I can’t.” Charles stomped over to the window and grumbled. “I know it’s not their fault, but I am not a box of spare parts for some senator to help himself to.” He whirled around, pointing at her. “I’ll try. Maybe I can get over the want to pop Winchester’s head like a zit, but you can’t let me die for nothing. Do something about that girl and I’ll see how I feel.”

  Kirsten gazed at the ceiling and took a few meditative breaths. She tucked her trembling hands under her armpits to warm numb fingers and hugged herself. “I’ve got a backup plan. I was hoping I could find some compromise with what I’ve been able to do so far, so you could be at peace. It’s a giant risk, Charles.”

  “What are you going to do?” He drifted back toward her.

  Dorian shook his head. “I don’t see this working. He’s not the kind of man to be reasonable.”

  “Oh, this isn’t reasonable.” Kirsten narrowed her eyes. “The problem is that as a Division 0 I-Ops officer, I’m stuck operating within a set of rules that the senator, and people like him, make. I’m going to switch things up and play a different game, one Winchester doesn’t have the instruction manual for.” She looked at Charles. “If I do this, you might wind up owing a favor to some… people.”

  “People?” asked Charles.

  “Ghosts.” Kirsten fidgeted. “Old ones.”

  Dorian smiled. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and Winchester will drop dead of a heart attack.”

  “Oh, hell.” Kirsten shivered. “No. That wouldn’t be lucky. That would come back to bite me square on the ass.”

  “Will it make him go away?” asked Laney.

  “No, but it might involve some occasional extra house guests.” Kirsten chuckled. Okay, Winchester. No recording when you threatened Evan. No way to record my response either. Ghosts don’t exist at Inquests, asshole. “I’m not going in there expecting the senator to roll over and confess to murder, but I’m not going to let him have a total win.”

  Charles moved to stand near Laney. “Do what you have to.”

  “Okay, perhaps you aren’t as idealistic as I thought.” Dorian winked.

  Kirsten marched out into the hall. “It’s not the senator I’m worrying about. It’s his daughter.”

  Dorian leaned his head next to hers when she stopped to wait for the elevator. “There you are.” He smiled. “Promise me you won’t change.”

  ick with anxiety, Kirsten clenched the control sticks as the patrol craft breached a pocket of turbulence. Flying at 1490 feet afforded the opportunity to avoid both advert bots as well as buildings. Except for a twenty-mile swath around the starport where she had to stay under a thousand, she cruised high and straight at 510 MPH to Senator Winchester’s manor house.

  Speed wasn’t so much an urgency as getting there faster would reduce the chances of her chickening out and changing her mind. She didn’t know what she’d do if the situation deteriorated and the threat of losing Evan became more than theoretical. He’s going to want to meet off the record. Can I get away with suggestion? Her stomach protested with a loud warble. Captain Eze would be horrified. Division 9 might see me as a threat. I’d never know it was coming. She sighed. No, I can’t go that far… I’m not that person. I’m… going to do whatever I have to do to protect my son.

  “I’m not sure I want to know what’s rattling around in your head to result in a face like that.”

  She glanced at Dorian. “I don’t understand how some people can play chess and see the whole game unfold in their head after like four moves. I’m trying to think of an endgame and I can’t pick which pawn to move yet.”

  “That was more a ‘can I get away with killing him if he goes after Evan’ face.”

  Kirsten nudged the patrol craft into a descent and slowed. Snow-scattered forest filled the windscreen as the car tilted forward. Whirring came from numerous airbrakes flaring out to slow the vehicle. Thin corkscrew contrails spiraled off the corners of two large flaps on the hood. “Sometimes I don’t like how well you can read me.”

  “Well… Since he is aware that you know about his involvement, he is going to want to keep your meeting secret. If he threatens Evan, you could mind blast him into a guava and make up any story you wanted… that he threatened to dismantle Division 0 because you won’t destroy Charles.” Dorian shot her a grim stare. “Burckhardt would back you.”

&nbs
p; “I hope you’re not seriously suggesting that.” She levelled off and sank the last hundred or so feet straight down to land.

  “Why do you think everyone’s so afraid of us?”

  She gawked. “It happened already?”

  “Not that anyone’s proved. It could happen. Some people think it has. Burkhardt’s cut from the same cloth. He’d do whatever it took to keep Division 0 intact. She looks like your kindly grandmother, but even Director Carter is a ‘needs of the many’ pragmatist.”

  Kirsten’s lips thinned with anger. “I guess I’ll have to make sure he doesn’t think threatening Evan or Division 0 can help him.”

  Dorian grinned.

  She climbed out of the patrol craft and approached the door. Marguerite opened it the instant boot touched porch.

  “Bon après-midi, lieutenant.” Marguerite offered a slight bow. “Senator Winchester has asked for a few minutes before he can meet with you. He is wrapping up a policy meeting.”

  Her cheeks grew cold; she all but felt the blood drain from her face.

  “Do not fret, mademoiselle.” Marguerite smiled. “They talk of taxes on Earth-Mars shipping.”

  “I’d like to see Seraphina.” Kirsten walked in.

  “She is not well.” Marguerite shut the door and clasped her hands in front of her. “But, she has asked for you… so.”

  Kirsten followed the head housekeeper upstairs to the third floor, and the quiet bedroom where the willowy figure of Seraphina Winchester squirmed and wriggled against the same soft restraints she’d been strapped down in last time. “Theresa? Has she been tied down for days?”

  “Agent Wren!” Seraphina sobbed. “Please help me! I wanna file kidnapping charges against this awful woman.”

  Theresa, eyes downcast, muttered something.

  “Following orders my ass.” Seraphina stopped crying long enough to scowl at her live-in medtech. “Would you do it if he told you to rape me?”

  “No, Miss.” Theresa flinched.

  Kirsten ran over and took Seraphina’s hand. “Are you still going to hurt yourself?”

  “No.” Seraphina looked away.

  The young woman’s surface thoughts debated trying to get Kirsten’s E-90 and offing herself with it as soon as her hand was free.

  Kirsten shook her head. “Stop trying to lie to a telepath. I’m not going to let you kill yourself over what that man thinks of you.”

  Seraphina thrashed. “I can’t take this anymore. I’ve been tied down a week! He doesn’t even treat me like a person anymore. I’m a possession.”

  “As soon as you decide not to harm yourself, I will insist they release you.” Kirsten sat on the edge of the Comforgel pad. “The ghost of the man whose lungs you have said he’s worried about you. If you die, he was murdered for nothing.”

  Seraphina scowled at the wall. “I didn’t ask to be saved. I don’t want his lungs. He can come back and fuckin’ take them.” She looked around before attempting to thrust her chest upward in defiance of the padded strap around her armpits. “You hear me? Come take them back. Rip them right out if you can.” Grunts and squeaks came out of her as she pulled at her legs and twisted. “Argh! Kill me already!”

  “Seraphina, please calm down.” Kirsten squeezed her hand. “You don’t need his approval to have value. My mother wanted to kill me and my father didn’t have the balls to stop her. He kept running away. I took things into my own hands when I was ten. I missed my dad, but I didn’t need him to survive.”

  “If you don’t care, why do you look ready to cry?” Seraphina stopped struggling and stared at her.

  “He ran from ghosts, not me. They were as normal to me as living people are to you, and I couldn’t understand how they scared him for a long time. I was fifteen or so when he died, and I’d never seen him again since the night I ran away from home. Your father isn’t afraid of ghosts. I don’t know what his excuse is.”

  “Why does he hate me?” Seraphina convulsed with wracking sobs. The straps holding her by the wrists went tight as she tried to bury her face in her hands. Sorrowful bawling morphed into enraged shrieking, and she flung all of her slight weight back and forth in protest of being tied down.

  “What’s going on here?” bellowed the senator from the door. A band of metallic sheen ran down his black suit as he leaned in. “Seraphina! Calm yourself.”

  Kirsten glimpsed into the woman’s thoughts; blind panic at being immobilized had overcome all reason. She put a hand her cheek, pulling the girl’s head to make eye contact. “Calm.”

  Theresa gasped at the flicker of light in Kirsten’s eyes.

  Seraphina went still.

  Kirsten pointed at Theresa. “Undo the straps. Now. They’re making it worse.”

  Seraphina sniveled as the medtech unlocked her right wrist. “Daddy…”

  Kirsten held her by the cheeks. “I want you to give me a half hour. Can you do that? I’m trusting you not to hurt yourself for at least that long. You’ll be free in a minute. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Seraphina wiped at her face and nose as though she’d been itching for hours.

  A surface thought skim let Kirsten breathe. For a little while at least, elation at being set loose made the girl happy enough to forget wanting to die. Winchester stomped over. “Lieutenant? I trust you have some good news for me?”

  “Senator…we need to talk.” Kirsten slid off the bed and faced him, doing a masterful job of hiding her fear. Staring a challenge at a senator would’ve been difficult at eye level, much less his being a full head taller.

  He gave her a look as though preparing for an argument with a tween daughter. “Very well. Downstairs. My study.”

  Theresa opened the padded cuffs around Seraphina’s ankles and came around the bed to her left arm.

  Kirsten moved out of the way. “Please make sure she stays in this room.” She put a hand on the medtech’s shoulder to get her attention. Neither one of you is going to want to be downstairs.

  Theresa’s deep tan faded a few shades at the telepathic voice in her brain. “I understand.”

  Facing off against demons had been frightening, but at least in that battle she had the safety blanket of believing Division 0 had her back. Here in Senator Winchester’s manor, she dangled out on a thread, far past any legal authority or backup. What she planned on doing didn’t even exist in any policy documentation. She had no doubt Division 0 brass would let her hang herself rather than see the entire organization go down. This is the right thing to do. Hands clenched into fists, Kirsten composed herself with military bearing, and followed Marguerite down the stairs.

  arguerite glided along without a sound. Kirsten stared at the paper-white skin between the woman’s shoulder blades, half an inch above the lacy frill where her dress clung at the armpits. To distract herself from worry, she tried to deduce if the synthetic chose to dress in such fancy things or Winchester demanded it. Perhaps the man had a thing for delicate women who looked like someone lifted them out of a thousand years ago. For that matter, would the senator’s wife (who never set foot on Earth) consider it cheating if anything happened between them?

  By law it would be… sentient AIs were granted the same rights and privileges as the living.

  She glanced at Dorian, knowing what he’d say. He found dolls creepy as hell, inhuman, and if he dreamed, he probably had nightmares about them. Synthetics fell into the same group, perhaps even worse since no one could tell them apart from humans without telepathy, or a portable medical scanner.

  “This way, Mademoiselle.” Marguerite flashed a genuine smile with a trace of a giggle, as though she led a childhood friend into a place they’d been told not to go.

  Kirsten kept her hand close to the E-90 as Marguerite stopped by a bookshelf where one section had opened like a door. Raven hair framed an innocent face that could’ve been carved from snow; her dark blue eyes sparkled with mischief, but she had no surface thoughts to see. Innocent in appearance, but Kirsten couldn’t know for sure.


  The synthetic woman stood to the side, hands clasped at her waist, seeming to have no intention to enter the room beyond. “Can I bring you anything, Lieutenant?”

  “Thank you, Marguerite, but I don’t think I’ll be here long enough to impose. Hopefully, Senator Winchester will find my information agreeable.”

  “Very well.” The woman curtsied.

  Kirsten stepped into the narrow end of a rectangular room with blue carpet. Dark wood wainscoting covered half the walls, the rest a bright Washington blue. The senator stood behind a brick-shaped onyx desk, austere in comparison to the surroundings. Books, busts of former senators in white on Roman columns, and animated electronic paintings decorated the perimeter.

  “Come in, Lieutenant.” Senator Winchester gestured at a pair of dark grey wingback chairs facing his desk.

  “Your housekeeper had the strangest smile. I’m not walking into an ambush, am I?”

  His surface thoughts found it amusing, but alleviated her fears. The senator’s attention leapt to a prickle of pain spreading over his hand, and he gave her an intense stare. “Lieutenant, please explain what you just did.”

  Kirsten walked up to stand between the chairs, her knee almost touching a tiny wooden table bearing tea service. “Forgive me, Senator. I was just prodding you with a quick question to make sure I wasn’t walking into a dangerous situation. Would you like an explanation of surface thought skimming? No, I do not plan to continue… extenuating circumstances, concern for my life.”

  He held a deep breath for a second before releasing it. “I’ve got an implant capable of alerting me to psionics affecting my mind. Since you didn’t experience any pain, I’ll assume you are being truthful in that your ‘peek’ was limited to shallow foremind thoughts. Need I advise you that the use of invasive telepathy or suggestion on a sitting member―”

  “No, sir.” She smiled. “I’m well aware that touching your brain is a criminal offense, but then again, so is contract murder. I have no plans of that nature. I merely wanted to make sure you didn’t have a pair of large men with big guns waiting behind that bookshelf.”