Division Zero: Lex De Mortuis

by Matthew S. Cox

  “About ten minutes.”

  “Where’s Nila?”

  “In the bedroom. Div 2 is going over the kitchen.”

  Kirsten gathered the girl and stood up, carrying her down the hall to the main bedroom. Dorian stood by the edge of the bed, straining to speak to Nila while a medtech busied herself removing a portable nanogel sleeve from a now-intact thigh. Shani squirmed until Kirsten set her down, and ran into her mother’s arms, sobbing.

  “Agent?” A woman’s voice.

  She turned, finding one of the tactical officers offering her E-90. Kirsten took it, exchanging a salute, and set it back on her belt. I wonder if I made a face like those people on Nicole’s wall.

  Kirsten sent her telepathic voice into Nila’s head. We need to have Lt. Commander Ashford look at Shani.

  Nila shivered, squeezing her daughter close. “Why?” What, he’s a mind-blaster, why?

  Rene put a hypnotic suggestion in your daughter’s head and turned her into a sleeper agent. I don’t trust myself to have gotten it all. Ashford is also one of the best telepaths we have.

  Nila looked at the door, the medtech, Kirsten, and then buried her face in Shani’s hair. He wipes memory. I don’t want him to erase my daughter.

  Kirsten put a hand on Nila’s arm. He won’t. It’s not worth taking the chance he programmed her to do something else. Keep a close eye on her until you can see him. He’s not as bad as people say. What would it do to your personality having the entire world scared shitless of you?

  Nila cradled her daughter, attempting to soothe the sobs away. “Thank you for not…”

  Her stomach did a backflip, she knew Nila could not bring herself to say shooting my daughter; Kirsten forced the thought out of her mind, she just squeezed Nila’s hand and smiled in the mutuality of words unspeakable.

  By the time they reached the elevator, Kirsten could not take it anymore and shot a stare at Dorian. “Why are you giving me that look?”

  “I’m just thanking whatever it is on the other side of the silver light she missed.” His gaze softened. “You could’ve died, hesitating like that.”

  “I…” The opening doors startled her. “I couldn’t live with the guilt of shooting a kid… Those idiots from the Nippy-Nom were fourteen, and that would have been horrible. Shani’s only seven. Never mind she’s the daughter of someone I sort of know.”

  “It’s one of the hardest things any cop has to deal with. Some of those gangers are pretty damn young.” Dorian exhaled his non-air; a wisp of fog formed in front of him as he searched for meaning in the rug.

  “Did you…”

  “I didn’t kill him. Damn hard to leg an eleven-year-old with an E-90; he’s got a prosthetic now.” Dorian’s jaw stiffened. “I killed the leader of his so-called gang, even after he surrendered.”

  “You shot an eleven-year-old boy?” Kirsten gasped.

  “He’d already drilled Nila in the gut with a rifle, was aiming to finish her off. What choice did I have? By department policy, I should have killed him. You’re more bothered that I shot a kid in the leg than you are that I murdered the man responsible for arming him?”

  She folded her arms across her gut, gurgling. “I dunno, you could have killed the boy, but took a risk trying to wound him.”

  “Youth isn’t a guarantee of innocence,” said Vikram, bringing up the rear. “In the ACC, many of the resistance fighters have dozens of kills before they’re able to grow beards.”

  Kirsten put a hand on the door to the pool deck, and turned to Dorian. “I…” She hung her head. “I almost died back there, and I was just gonna let her do it.” A trickle of bile ran out of her mouth. The idea she came so close to death made her breakfast want to come up.

  “Hey.” His finger passed through her chin.

  She raised her head as if he had moved it.

  “You could have compelled her to drop it.”

  Shit. I’m such a dumbass. Too emotional. “Yeah.”

  “Everyone being safe includes you.” Dorian ran a hand over her hair.

  Vikram gazed at the ceiling.

  aptain Eze looked up from behind his desk as Kirsten stormed in. She waved her hand at the silver panel and the door closed. Vikram and Dorian oozed through the wall behind her. Eze sat up, and then leaned back into his chair.

  “Kirsten, I just saw your report on the incident at Officer Assad’s home. I’d like you to take an hour or two today and have some time with Doctor Loring.”

  The shrink? Oh, dammit. “I’m fine, I just hesitated shooting a seven-year-old. I’m”―he’s not buying it―“fine. I’ll go see her, but I am going after Rene.”

  “You know how I feel about that, Kirsten. You went right from the dormitory cadet program to Investigative Operations. Your astral sense ability is rare enough that they skipped you through the academy to get you out there.”

  “Hank was causing too much damage at the shipyard. They needed a ghost dealt with faster.” Kirsten smirked. “So you think I’m helpless because I didn’t do tactical first?”

  He laughed. “No, I’m not saying you are helpless. You are far from helpless in situations that fit your talents.”

  Kirsten approached the desk, leaning on it with both hands. “So I’m fine to go chase wraiths, but the bastard that killed Dorian and almost made me shoot a goddamn little girl is too much?”

  “You are talking about the oldest, most severe disavowed zone of the lot. Even if the military were to go in there, they’d take fifty men in assault armor with mechanized support.”

  “Shouldn’t you be worrying about the three demons running about?” asked Vikram.

  “I wouldn’t…” Dorian held a hand up to Vikram. “Just let her vent.”

  “A platoon going in with heavy equipment will attract everything out there to come play. One person and a couple of ghosts won’t be noticed. They don’t have any defense against psionics; how do you think Rene is still alive? Sector 187 is teeming with augs; they don’t have a lot of brain left.” She shoved off the desk and paced. “I could make them do whatever I need. What’s Rene going to do next time? What if he learns about Evan?”

  Dorian cringed. Vikram paced about, shaking his head and muttering.

  Eze frowned. “What good will it do the boy to get attached to you only to have you go get yourself killed? I don’t want to see that, either.” He leaned forward, putting a hand on hers atop the desk. “I don’t care for official funerals. Wren, I’ve seen you go from a scared little girl to a strong woman.” He sighed. “I’m not sure I could take that kind of bad news.”

  Nausea bubbled out of the pit of her stomach, churning anger and worry into syrup sliding up her throat. In her mind, Evan had a gun at her. She smiled at Eze’s hand, dark against her pale skin. He was somewhere between a father figure and the protective older brother.

  She glanced through the large office window at the squad room. Would he give Morelli the same treatment? I’m too cute.

  “If you’re wondering if I would give the men the same opinion, I would.”

  Her head turned back to him, eyebrow up.

  He smiled. “No, you’re staring at Morelli. I guessed.”

  Eze’s terminal beeped. He shifted, reading something on the screen. The pleasantness of his smile faded way. The skin of his cheeks hung like those of a dead man. He pursed his lips, sighing through his nose.

  “What? What is it?” Kirsten straightened up, biting at her lower lip.

  “Kirsten. I strongly urge you not to pursue Rene Bollard into Sector 187.” The glower he shot into the terminal screen moved to her, and softened. “However, if you are insistent upon it, I will not stand in your way.”

  Dorian yelled. “You won’t? Dammit man, don’t let her do this!”

  “He is right,” added Vikram. “This is taking away from the time you could be spending destroying the demons before they kill me.”

  “You’re already dead, Vik.” Kirsten whirled, hands shaking. She felt like a kid denied th
e ability to stay out late finally getting her wish, and then being terrified of being outside after dark.

  Who was on the terminal? What did they tell him?

  “Right after I ran away, when I was below the city, I sometimes felt as if I wasn’t alone. I had a feeling that something was there watching out for me, leading me to food, leading me away from danger.”

  “I’ve heard nothing converts an atheist like getting caught in a war,” said Dorian through a wry grin.

  Captain Eze lifted an eyebrow. “A ghost?”

  She frowned at Dorian. “I don’t know. I felt it again at the parking deck. Eleven stories up, two seconds away from a dozen hand grenades, I got this sense it was safe to jump. Somehow, I just knew I’d hit the advert droid and not die. It was almost as if something helped me.”

  “An angel?” Dorian grinned. “That Theodore fellow seemed pretty convinced the Harbingers have a counterpart.”

  “I don’t know.” She folded her arms.

  Both Eze and Dorian took her answer as directed at them.

  “Harbingers I’ve seen, often. If there is such a thing as their opposite, why don’t I ever see them?”

  “Maybe they’re afraid of the dark,” offered Vikram, sarcasm obvious.

  Dorian shot him a glance. “I’m starting to see why Lyris wanted to kill him.”

  “Kirsten.” Captain Eze got up, walking around the desk to put both hands on her shoulders. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, or what hope you think you have out there. I would advise you to leave chasing Rene to people who have combat training and experience.”

  “But…” She looked up at him.

  “I won’t stop you.” His teeth creaked.

  She hugged him. “I’ll be fine, sir.”

  He eased her to arm’s length, grinning. “Careful, Agent, that’s how rumors start. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  Don’t say ‘so do I,’ don’t do it. “I do.” She thought of the horror in Shani’s memory at almost killing her mother. “I’m going to get the bastard.”

  A knock came from the door, turning two live heads as well as two dead ones.

  “Enter,” said Eze, returning to his chair.

  Tall and wiry, a man in an I-Ops uniform slid through the door. Dense wavy hair, as black as the government-issue coat he had added to his attire, clung tight to his scalp. His skin, pallid and corpselike, his eyes surrounded by sunken shadows. A matte-black oak leaf pin adorned the right breast of his coat, above a silver nameplate.

  Eze shot to his feet, rendering a sharp salute. Kirsten followed suit, as did Dorian. Vikram rolled his eyes.

  “Commander Ashford,” said Eze, snapping his arm back to his side.

  The living phantom returned the gesture casually. Kirsten could not tell if his expression was caused by fatigue, boredom, or annoyance. Wherever this man went, conversations stalled and people scurried away. He endured a harsher form of the worry her small rating in mind blast earned her; in a way, she felt bad for him. Not only was he a mind-blaster of no small degree, he was part of Division 0’s internal affairs corps. She made it a point to project camaraderie at him, even edging closer as if she wanted to be near him.

  He noticed, almost even smiled. “I’ve just finished meeting with the Assad girl, and her mother. The child should not remember most of the incident yesterday.” His lips curled just a little more as he shifted gaze to Kirsten. “You were pretty thorough. I could not find any further latent commands.”

  “Should ask him to make you forget about Rene,” said Dorian, folding his arms.

  “Thank you, sir.” Kirsten nodded once.

  “I need a few minutes with the Captain if you don’t mind, Agent.”

  “Yes, sir.” She scurried out, making no effort to give him a wide berth like everyone else did. The gratifying feeling faded when she saw the office, and two connecting squad rooms, empty.

  Kirsten sprawled on the cold tiles, one arm draped over the toilet. Trails of OmniSoy ran down her lip from her nose, pooling on her chin in droplets before they fell. Once an omelet, it had returned to the base from which it had been reassembled. Any second now, she felt another wave coming.

  I almost died.

  Stomach muscles contracting, she bent over the toilet. Just a dry heave.

  The image of little Shani behind the glowing blue ring/dot gunsight stood in the dark of her memory.

  Another dry heave.

  She imagined an azure streak from the E-90 tearing the diminutive threat in half.

  Bile flew out of her mouth, several subsequent convulsions became bawling. Kirsten clung to the toilet like a well-meaning friend, sobbing against the plastic seat.

  The familiar fragrance of her father’s ambiance surrounded her; she sniffled her tears under control. Trembling, however, was another matter.

  “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, sweetie.”

  She closed her eyes and smiled at the cool presence of his hand on her back; a mental flex, and she became solid to him. “It’s not that, Dad. I came close to being killed today, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. It was a little kid with a gun.”

  Heave.

  He crouched alongside her, frowning. “What has society come to? Couldn’t you just shoot the gun out of the kid’s hand?”

  “It doesn’t work, Dad. E-90’s the biggest laser they can cram into a handgun. At that angle it would’ve gone right through her gun, through her, through the house…”

  Another dry heave shook her. Crying flooded her nose, sending dribbles down her chin.

  Her father patted her on the back, rubbing up and down like any parent with a sick daughter.

  “I couldn’t do it. I just froze up. I knew it wasn’t her fault. That made it so much harder. That son of a bitch programmed her to do it. If I shot her, I’d have been killing an innocent.”

  More bile.

  “I think you more than anyone should know not to dwell on what-ifs.” His hand passed through the paper, causing him to grumble. “Wipe your face, hon.”

  She gathered a few feet of paper and dabbed at her chin.

  “After what your mother put you through, after what you put yourself through below the city, you should be better apt to cope with this kind of―”

  “Dorian was right. I could have just suggested her to drop it.” She squeezed herself tight to her spectral father, burying her face in his chest. “Dad… I don’t wanna die.”

  He held her for a moment in silence until she sobbed herself quiet. “You’re still young, sweetie. You haven’t gotten jaded like Dorian. You survived, no one got hurt, and you learned.”

  The kiss he planted atop her head made her feel six years old; she adored it and hated it in equal parts. She wiped her face again and stood, flushing the toilet with her boot. Her father was gone when she reached for the stall door, a wisp of his old-man scent teased at her nostrils. She adjusted her belt, checked her uniform for spots, and took a deep breath.

  Okay, Rene. It’s just you and me.

  og rolled over the street a distance ahead from where the patrol craft had landed. Kirsten gazed at the shattered faces of long-abandoned buildings, a miles-long tunnel into the heart of a world abandoned by civilized man. Some shiny, some black, most devoid of intact windows, all of them wrapped in the misery of blight. Despite it being early afternoon, a pervasive gloom enveloped the area a few blocks distant. Kirsten, leaning against the center of the hood, steeled herself in an effort not to let the foreboding sense of apocalyptic dread cloud her resolve. She fidgeted, tugging at the tactical armor she found quite uncomfortable.

  Black panels of DuraFib composite molded to her body on a flexible bodysuit. She shifted, trying to breathe in the chest plate and stop the crotch guard from digging into her thighs.

  Dorian and Vikram approached on either side around the car. Vikram glanced over his shoulder at the intact city, swiveling back to the decay with an amused grin. Kirsten held up a hand at the glare Doria
n leveled at Vikram and tucked her hair up to put on the helmet. As soon as the rigid armor surrounded her skull, a strange presence caressed her brain.

  Psi Armor, a recent addition to the Division 0 arsenal, could use the mental energy of its wearer to power a deflection field that increased its protection. Some even maintained that it could, when charged, protect against paranormal attacks. She held her arms out in front, made fists, and twisted them to examine the lay of the plates. Sized for a woman two inches taller, it was the only one available for loan on short notice.

  I hope Nila won’t mind I borrowed it.

  “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for Shani and Nila.” She fixed her eyes on Dorian. “You know he’ll kill them.”

  Hands on his hips, he cast a stare into the mist. “If you had just left her alone like I’d asked you to, they wouldn’t be in danger.” He softened. “But I did see a little bit of the old Nila peek out.”

  Kirsten pushed off the hood. “I know. You don’t have to remind me, I’m beating myself up enough. They’re in danger because of me; that’s why I’m here now.”

  Vikram jogged alongside. “Maybe it would be safer to wait until the three demonic assassins coming after me are dealt with first? It would be somewhat inconvenient if they were to ambush us in this place.”

  She kept walking. “They will come when they come. The things that live out here won’t stick around if weird crap comes out of the walls. They’re as superstitious as priests.”

  A half-block later, Dorian caught up to her, moving with renewed purpose in his stride. His lip curled into a determined frown, fists clenching and relaxing.

  “Dorian, we’re not going in there to kill him. I don’t want you to make yourself any more appealing to a Harbinger then you already think you are. Don’t give them more of an excuse.”

  His eyebrows drew close. “What exactly do you think we’re going to do to him? The only chance you have is to catch him from a blind angle without him seeing you. If you knock him senseless, he can’t tell you to shoot yourself.” He stopped. “That is, assuming of course, you can somehow get through the dozen punks he’s enthralled.”