New Moon Rising

by J. R. Rain

  Kirsten’s smile gave way to a guilty glance down the street at the moaning pile of limbs. She set her food on the roof of the car. “That was mean, and I’m not sure. I’m gonna check him out to make sure you didn’t hurt him.”

  Nicole rolled her eyes and hopped into the driver’s seat, getting started on her food. A few minutes later, Kirsten returned, looking relieved.

  “Well at least you don’t still look like your cat died.” Nicole offered a sympathetic glance while she slurped her coffee. “Careful, the eggs are spicy.”

  Kirsten managed a shrug as she got in and opened her coffee. “I’m just nervous about this warrant run.” The gull-wing door on her side sank closed with a soft pneumatic hiss.

  Nicole paused, mouth open an inch from her food. Eyes shot to the right. “You’re not a precog, are you?”

  “No. I deal with ghosts.” The harsh synthetic coffee choked the last traces of sleep from her taste buds.

  Nicole’s contagious cheer returned. “And beat the snot out of them! Is it true that all the power went out in a three block area when you took out that Wharf Killer one?”

  “Actually, he sucked the power out of the area before I obliterated him; he was winding up for something big.” The memory came with a shiver.

  Nicole gasped like a wide-eyed kid. “Ooo, I wish I could see it.”

  “No, really you don’t.” Kirsten tried to force the images out of her thoughts. “Not all ghosts are pretty. I’m just glad I never met him when he was alive.”

  “It’s cool you can whip ghosts like that―hey, isn’t that pretty rare for an astral?”

  Kirsten hesitated. She hated talking about her other gift. Most people, even other psionics, feared anyone with it. “I… um… I can do the mind blast thing too.” She looked down, picking at her uniform. “It somehow works together.”

  Much to her relief, Nicole’s jovial smile did not weaken. “Neat.”

  Nicole’s fingers danced over the controls, bringing the car to life and flooding the cabin with dim azure light cast by holographic displays as they winked on one after the next. With a tap of the control stick, they rolled away from the sidewalk and got underway. At first, Nicole tried to drive on the ground so they could eat, but after rounding the corner into standstill traffic, she decided to switch to hover mode.

  “What’s the point of having a police car if we don’t fly?”

  More than a mouthful of coffee scorched its way down Kirsten’s jalapeño-tenderized throat as the car lurched upward. Once the tears and coughing stopped and she could breathe again, Kirsten glared. She knew how Nicole liked to fly and stopped trying to enjoy her food, inhaling the rest before she wore it. The patrol craft picked up speed and altitude, drifting through the layer of advert droids as it plowed a twisting whorl through the smog. Nicole banked corners hard, making the windows on the sixtieth story of several buildings shudder. Kirsten looked behind them, grumbling.

  “If this thing didn’t have police lights on it, we’d have a Division 1 patrol car behind us already. Do you have to drive like you’re fifteen?” Kirsten rubbed her neck and coughed. “This isn’t cyberspace, you could kill someone.”

  Her friend flashed a wicked little grin. “It got your mind off of whatever really killed your cat, didn’t it? Ooo, mind blast, really?” Nicole flashed a mock-accusing squint, then giggled. “That’s cool. No wonder Morelli avoids you.” Then came the sincere pout. “You could have told me, it doesn’t bother me. I think it’s cool.”

  “Sorry, it’s just, you know how people get about mind blasters. I’m nowhere near strong enough to erase an entire brain permanently.” Kirsten examined her nails. “I never had a cat. Look, it’s not a big deal. Just a bad dream is all. Really, I’m fine.”

  Nicole had known her for a few years and accepted she did not like to talk about that dream. “Suit yourself. Say, how’d your date go?”

  Kirsten’s head slumped forward. “Horrible, he―”

  “Oh, I’m thinking of going blonde like you, does it help with―”

  Kirsten blinked at the scatterbrain next to her. “…ran screaming out the door…”

  “…attracting guys? Oh.” Nicole offered her a sheepish look. “Another runner, huh?”

  “Yeah.” Kirsten fidgeted with her cup. “The second I told him.”

  “Trail of flames leading to his car?” Nicole shook her head. “Why did you tell him on the first date? You know they always run.” She looked away for a second before her brain switched gears again. “Oh, hey, did you get carded again or did they believe you were over twenty-one?”

  Kirsten’s face turned red. “I tell them up front because I don’t want to get attached and then have him freak out on me. I have to be honest.”

  “Someone got carded!” Nicole giggled.

  Kirsten glared out the right side window. “Well, now I know why Eze put us together. I look like I’m thirteen and you act like it.”

  Nicole gave her a raspberry. “You’re tall for thirteen.”

  Staring into the endless black of her uniform, Kirsten searched for answers that did not dwell there. A warped version of her face sulked back from her silver belt, and she turned to the window with a sigh, looking through her reflection at the passing century towers. Hundred-story monoliths; each was a variation of the same standard pre-fab design like most of the city. Full of happy people, or at least people happy enough to fake being happy. Kirsten frowned.

  Is there a man in any of those buildings that isn’t a shallow jerk?

  “Probably not,” replied Nicole.

  “Dammit.” Kirsten gave her friend a light slap on the back of the head. “Get outta my mind.”

  The car swerved as Nicole ducked, causing Kirsten to grab the oh-shit handle.

  Oh, come on, you know you do it all the time. Nicole’s telepathic voice pierced her consciousness.

  “Seriously, no, I don’t. Just because we can doesn’t give us the right to just pick through people’s thoughts without probable cause. Didn’t you pay attention at all in class?”

  “You are such a downer.” Nicole frowned. “Besides it’s just you, not some citizen.”

  Kirsten stared in silence at the NavMap, watching a small yellow triangle creep along a blue line. Sometimes having friends that did not run away in fear at the sight of a psionic could be as much a curse as a benefit. Several minutes of silence passed and Kirsten sensed something. She turned her head, looking through the intermittent flashes of sunlight gleaming off the ad-bots below. A feeling pulled her stare down into the darkness that clung to the narrow alleys below.

  “You haven’t seen them, but they’re out there.”

  Nicole made a sarcastic look of fear. “Ooo…your little shadow-men?”

  “Look in my head now if you have the proverbial balls.” Kirsten dared her with a gaze, recalling the memory of her last meeting with a Harbinger. She steeled herself against the memory of the mass of darkness gliding out of the shadows, piercing silver eyes locked upon the malevolent spirit it had come to claim. “Just please don’t have an accident; in your pants or with the car.”

  Nicole accepted her challenge and locked eyes. Her amused grin shattered to a half-open mouth, taking with it all the color in her face. When her body went limp, the car’s safety system brought them to a hovering standstill. Kirsten gave her an ‘I told you so’ smirk.

  “Wow…well…” Nicole stared at the hover lane in front of them. “Okay then. Consider me glad I can’t see that shit.” A visible tremble settled into her hands as she clutched the control sticks.

  Kirsten rubbed her friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that to you.”

  Nicole’s voice faltered as she coped with the images and sounds, and worst of all, the inherited feeling from reading a memory. “You see that stuff all the time? How are you not sucking your thumb under your bed every night?”

  “I had a scarier demon to practice on.”

  Nicole’s eyes closed, her han
ds stopped shaking. “I don’t even want to know.”

  “It’s weird.” Kirsten folded her arms. “Ghosts don’t bother me. The Harbingers make me a little nervous, but I know they’ll leave me alone. They only go after evil souls. Some living punk with a gun, though―that scares me to death. I don’t know what to do.” Kirsten turned toward the window. I don’t want to be responsible for sending people into that world.

  Nicole went into a well-rehearsed recital of standard Division 0 combat doctrine, trying to explain to her ‘what to do’ in those situations. Her friend’s telekinesis and temperament suited field work with a tactical team, not to mention she lacked the patience or finesse demanded by I-Ops. One of her favorite tricks involved telekinetically yanking the guns out of a suspect’s hand. She had started printing still images of the faces they made, caught by her helmet cam, and hanging them above her desk.

  Kirsten’s role came with much less glory. She arrived well after the shooting stopped to do the figuring out, not to mention all the typing. Ghosts on the other hand, she did not mind fighting. With them, she had the upper hand.

  Nicole stopped hard at a red traffic control node when her attempt to beat the yellow failed. Kirsten shot down her suggestion about hitting the bar lights and zipping through, not wanting a reprimand. Their argument stalled with the appearance of a newsbot trailing a billboard-sized hologram of a mutilated body. Reporter Kimberly Brightman’s voice emanated from the coasting droid, with details about the latest in a series of attacks by out-of-control dolls. As always, the Newsnet worked it up, stirring the stew of paranoia. Where would the next attack be? Could your doll go crazy too? Does death lurk in your own kitchen?

  “How can they air that crap?” Kirsten gestured at the monolithic screen. “Children could see those.”

  “I dunno…dolls creep me out, don’t you think?”

  Kirsten shrugged. “Not really. Though if I ever got run over by a PubTran, I’d rather just die than have my brain stuffed in one.”

  “No.” Nicole shook her head. “I mean the AI ones, the fake people. Not the real-brain ones… and those sub-sents are even creepier.”

  Kirsten pointed out the signal had changed. “What do you mean?”

  Nicole muttered as she formed her ideas. “I mean it’s like, what if all the AI’s in the world talked to each other and no one knew it? What if they were all part of this network that like, hated humans? And what if one day―”

  You could carry the same thought for longer than twenty seconds. “You’ve been watching too many Holovids, Nikki. Self-aware AI’s are considered citizens under the law.”

  “Oh, that’s just the first part of their plan.” She held up her finger in triumph, and then lost her train of thought. “By the way, I heard Samir finished fixing your car.”

  ADD sucks. Kirsten smiled at the expected topic flip. “Oh, that’s good.”

  Nicole grinned. “Hey, isn’t that the car everyone hates? Don’t you have problems with it?”

  Kirsten gave her a dismissive wave. “No, not at all.”

  “I heard it almost killed the last like dozen people that drove it. Why was it in the shop anyway? Is it true Morelli borrowed it and wound up putting it through a fortieth-floor window of an office building?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. It’s been fine for me. I didn’t think it’d be a problem to let him use it.”

  The comm flashed, and a six-inch holographic rendition of Captain Jonathan Eze’s shaved head appeared in the center of the console. He glanced back and forth between the two women and gave a curt nod.

  “Field Agent Logan, I need you to drop Agent Wren off back here as soon as possible. I’ll have Forester go with you on that warrant pickup.”

  “Understood, sir.” Nicole saluted her intangible Captain. “Whee! Code three time,” Nicole shouted.

  Eze nodded again, and faded out.

  Kirsten glared. “Command actually lets you carry a weapon… in public?”

  Nicole wrenched the car around with a laugh, in a hard about-face that smacked Kirsten into the door. Revving the throttle control almost all the way forward, she flicked on the bar lights and streaked at three hundred miles per hour back to the command building.

  Ten minutes later, they came to rest in front of the parking deck. Squad Corporal Forrester walked through the large cloud of cryonic mist and debris kicked up by their arrival, and saluted Kirsten as she got out. Unprepared, she fumbled to return it.

  I’ll never get used to that.

  She still felt like a newbie even though she had been on active duty since the age of sixteen, and Forrester’s enlisted rank took longer to attain. With the rank of Agent, she held the status of officer―now all she had to do was feel like one.

  The hot ion rush of liftoff left Kirsten’s legs wrapped in tingly sparks as the hovercar peeled up and away from the building, leaving a trail of wobbling windows. Kirsten shook her head and went down into the garage where Captain Eze waited by her patrol craft. His reflection, framed in glare from the overhead lights, shone clear within the just-washed gleam of the hood. A twinge of alarm in his voice overshadowed his usual comforting mannerism.

  “Kirsten, we’ve got a situation. Two Division 1 patrol officers have gotten themselves trapped by a possible category four manifestation.”

  She gulped. The Wharf Stalker rated only three. “How much do we know?”

  Eze’s hand on her shoulder stalled her ever-widening sapphire eyes. “Some mechanic took a few pot shots at a passing Div 1 unit. They pursued him into an abandoned building, and at some point thereafter hit their panic buttons. By the time backup arrived, they were gone. There are also reports of strange sights, screams, and to use the technical term they did: ‘weird shit’.”

  “What sector?”

  Eze shook his head. “No sector, it’s off the map. Southwest of where the city plates stop, a pre-war building right on the surface.”

  She bit her lip, never having been that far south before. “Who’s the mechanic?”

  “I’ll relay the details while you’re en route. No criminal record, no idea why he fired. Their sergeant wants someone out there ASAP. His people are refusing to go inside.”

  Refusing? With fellow officers in danger? What the hell is this thing?

  “On it, sir.” She leapt into the waiting car.

  Kirsten tapped at the control sticks urging the car to power on faster. Any trepidation she had at tangling with something that might be worse than the Wharf Stalker evaporated under her sense of duty. She thought only of other cops in danger.

  Twenty minutes of blurred buildings later, the patrol craft shot out over the edge of the city. The exposed Earth fifty meters below looked desolate and brown; dotted here and there with scrub-brush and cacti. The car descended into the shadow of the endless urbanity behind her. The rearview monitor filled with the vast network of pipes and support struts between the great city plates and the ground, a place known as The Beneath. She had been down there before, many years ago, but now was not the time to dwell on old memories.

  Not with lives at risk.

  Chapter 2

  Nutcracker

  Shattered plaster rained down everywhere as unseen gunfire tore chunks out of the wall above her head. Kirsten raised her arms to shield her face from the fall of debris and closed her eyes. After the shooting stopped, the wall rocked with a powerful impact that knocked her forward into a squatting wobble. With a flail of her arms, she recovered her balance enough to fall back against the crumbling cinderblocks. Sinister laughter, touched with insanity, echoed from around the corner before fading to silence. Soon, only the sounds of her rapid breaths and the crunch of her boots upon the debris broke the stillness.

  Kirsten kept her back against the wall, crouched with her service weapon held to her chest. Dampness hung in the musty air and the smell of rotting wood teased at her nostrils. Two spots of azure light traced along the sides of the pistol in an endless march, tinting the dingy walls with undulati
ng light. Police outside had no idea what went on in the building, their sensors unable to read anything but static. The same sort of static shimmered above her left arm guard where a tactical holographic display struggled to appear. Since she had entered this old asylum, it managed only to make a panel of scintillating black and white dots that saturated the area around her with an otherworldly glow.

  He has to be alive. Ghosts don’t use guns, and he sure isn’t having any trouble projecting his voice into the mortal world.

  She held her weapon out to the left, using its mirror-like housing to peek around the corner. Seeing nothing, she sprang to her feet. With her E90 leveled off at the darkness, she swatted dust and scraps off her uniform while she tried to sort out the situation. Her comm-link proved unreliable as well; she forced the unending hiss in her right ear out of her conscious mind. Her psionics could not pinpoint any specific source, the entire building vibrated with paranormal energy.

  What are you doing? Those cops need you. The urgency dispelled her worry about the malfunctioning gadgetry.

  Not only had two Division 1 patrol officers been trapped in here by who-knows-what, the living suspect had just shot at her. She had made it only ten feet in from the door when the slugs started flying, and the shooter vanished before she could return fire.

  I’m being an idiot. I see half a man walking around… no sweat. She trembled, wondering where the next bullet would come from―an attack she could not stop with her mind. At least I got farther than Div 1. A distant scream drew her eyes to the ceiling.

  They’re counting on me. I can’t let them down.

  She swallowed her fear and forced herself to continue deeper into the old building, pausing by a small window overlooking the front yard. Blue bodies, blurred through a century of grime upon the glass, huddled outside, clinging to their guns a few yards from the stairs. Whatever they had seen had been enough to keep them out of the building. Kirsten placed her boots with caution around the scattering of debris that filled the halls, mindful to prevent her gear from snagging on anything. Distant cackles and screams laced through the air, punctuated by shouts and banging metal. At least some of the noises came from the dead trapped here. From the appearance of the place, this old hospital had been out of commission for a long time.