Hand of Raziel (Daughter of Mars Book 1)

by Matthew S. Cox

  After the third mouthful, Risa looked up. “Was that directed at me or him?”

  “I don’t know.” Sergeant Imari drummed her fingers on the table. “I’ve been back and forth through MarsNet looking for any trace of Pavo. There’s nothing. I can’t figure out why anyone would bother with him. I’d never have believed the man was that… clean if I hadn’t researched it myself. It has to be the PVM angle.”

  “Pueri Verum Martis,” said Risa in a half-whisper. “I shouldn’t be so casual about this but… What does it matter anymore?”

  “Could it help find him?”

  Risa shrugged. “Have any other MDF officers gone missing recently?”

  “Nothing but the usual sick callouts and stress cases.”

  “Then probably not. I don’t know exact numbers, but supposedly, a lot of people belong to the PVM. It’s a secret society that’s older than the MLF by at least thirty years.” Risa held up a lump of ‘meat’ to the light, trying to figure out if she’d gotten beef or square nuggets of OmniSoy shrimp flesh saturated with some binding agent to keep them from degenerating. “They’re in the military, civilian sector, the MDF, even the corporation-controlled cities. At first, they were more like a political movement, but now they view Earth’s senate as a FOG.”

  “Fog?” Sergeant Imari showed some interest in her soup, watching Risa eat.

  “Foreign Oppressive Government. The PVM has decided to help the MLF free Mars, especially since we seem to hit the ACC more than the UCF.”

  “Did you do that on purpose?” Imari broke up laughing, sputtering soup and noodle fragments. “You need more acronyms.”

  “The Defense Force is basically the military with police powers instead of assault weapons.” Risa smirked. “You should be used to acronyms. I don’t think Pavo was very high up in the command structure of the PVM… or even if they have a command structure. When I first met him, he seemed like a clumsy rookie.” A stone of sadness settled in her gut at the memory of him walking headfirst into the pipe. “He did such an awful job of faking an Icewhisper high, I’m surprised Denmark didn’t shoot us both.” She wiped her eyes and gazed at the broth. “He couldn’t be important enough to grab.”

  “Aurelia,” said Sergeant Imari.

  “What?” Risa blinked.

  “My name.”

  “Oh… pretty.”

  The armored woman stabbed a chopstick through a hunk of egg floating in her soup. “Thanks. Who do you think did it?”

  Risa twitched as debating gave way to screaming. All six holo-panels erupted with an explosion of sound and light, armored men flying in a three-dimensional arena, chasing a metal sphere with three bright-cyan ion thrust trails coming out of it. She whispered silent thanks in her mind to whatever person in whatever small, dark office hit the switch to change the station. Gee-ball might be mindless and violent, but she preferred it to listening to those people discuss dead civilians like pieces on a game board. The most galling part of it was how they were more upset over the disruption in trade than the lives lost.

  “The way you described the attack makes it sound like either Syndicate, C-Branch, or some expensive mercenaries are involved.”

  Aurelia grumbled. “I hope you can suggest more than things I’ve already considered.”

  Both women remained quiet as a crowd of bored-looking teens meandered past. They whined about social atrocities like the next installment of the Colony Commando series game being pushed back two months or some musician Risa had never heard of going on ‘hiatus’ instead of releasing another album. One girl had gotten so wound up over rumors of his new album, she couldn’t stop crying while complaining how unfair it was the band was making her wait.

  “Tragedies of modern youth,” whispered Aurelia, once they’d gone out of earshot.

  “Yeah.” Risa kept her bitter stare aimed at the table. It wasn’t those teens’ fault they had a comfortable existence. She couldn’t blame them for what happened to the mineshaft kids… or her. “I’m going to check the Syndicate angle.”

  “Where to?” Aurelia grabbed her helmet, as if to stand. “How?”

  “I’m going to walk right in and ask them.” Risa pondered her soup. “I should probably finish this. It might be my last meal.”

  n aisle seat close to the rear of a RedLink intercity shuttle left Risa feeling exposed, but it gave her a good vantage point. Crisp purified air laden with ‘freshness’ chemicals blew in her eyes from a broken overhead vent she couldn’t close. The scent of coffee drifted in and out of notice among random wafts of cologne and body odor. After twenty minutes of looking down, the repeating pattern of red spots in the strip of grey rug seemed to float and move. No amount of staring at the indentations of footprints made the shuttle fly faster. A sub-sentient doll dressed in the uniform of a flight attendant walked back and forth, passing Risa’s seat every two minutes. She―rather, it―would step in the exact same place on each trip. After the tenth time watching the glossy Mars-red kitten heel land in the same indentation, she looked away. Two breaths later, she glanced left past a thin man huddled close to the window. He cowered against the wall in such a way that his loose-fitting silvery business suit made him seem like a melting wax figure.

  Two empty seats separated them. He hid most of his face behind a datapad as if that would protect him. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her since noticing the pair of laser pistols, one tucked under each of her arms.

  She ignored him, impatient for their arrival at Elysium Starport. It wasn’t that she had any problems with flying in and of itself… that mode of travel left her too open, too recorded. Too many eyes on her, too many checkpoints, and too much risk. Of course, it was also far faster than going overland. Pavo might not have the time to spare. For another four minutes, the man stared at her, barely breathing.

  At the sight of the red, rocky ground outside getting closer, she clenched her fists.

  Better I get killed trying to do something than lose him to caution.

  An over-cheerful voice emanated from a tiny speaker in the cushion behind her head.

  “Attention passengers. We will be landing at Elysium City Starport in one-point-six minutes. Please wait for the shuttle to come to a full stop before moving around the cabin. At this time, RedLink Local asks everyone to remain in their seats until we touch down. RedLink Corporation is not responsible for injuries or death sustained as a result of disregarding this warning. Thank you for choosing RedLink Intercity.”

  Flares of reflected sunlight danced along the window. From her seat at the aisle, she couldn’t see much outside. The man’s gaze flicked up and down.

  “I think they complement the outfit, don’t you?” Risa cast an appraising glance down at her guns. “They take the focus off my breasts.”

  His lips twitched.

  A nervous rat. “You’re from Earth, aren’t you?”

  “Y-yes.” He seemed to devolve further into a molten puddle of humanity, as if one loud noise from her would give him a heart attack.

  She settled in her seat, facing forward. “It’s not illegal to carry energy weapons on Mars. Just because I’m armed doesn’t mean I’m going to kill everyone I see.”

  “T-those things are legal?”

  A deep vibrating thrum emanated from the floor. The ghost of a pilot in Risa’s head knew the sound meant the landing pads had deployed. Random thoughts of windage, airspeed, and autonav systems painting a path to a shuttle pad made her reflexively reach for controls that didn’t exist. Shit, I gotta take that chip out.

  “Yeah… the last idiot politician who tried to enact firearm registration laws died to a gunshot.”

  “Uhh…” He let off a nervous titter. “That’s―”

  “Ironic?” Risa looked at him. “Hardly. The idiot shot himself.”

  “Oh.” He appeared to calm down, sitting upright. “Suicide?”

  He does have bones. “No, idiocy. He was trying to show off for the NewsNet, demonstrating how ‘evil’ firearms are while giving
a speech about some registration law he wanted to pass, and the weapon he was using as a prop went off in his face.”

  “Oh,” said the man.

  A mild lurch forward announced the shuttle coming to a halt in midair. The command sequence necessary to initiate a landing in a large commercial vessel formed at the tip of her brain.

  She didn’t wait for the ‘all clear’ announcement and bolted from her seat to the door, ignoring the impotent gesticulations of the sub-sent in a flight attendant uniform asking her to remain seated. As soon as the door light went green, she opened it herself and ran down the docking tube to the terminal. Another ‘woman’ in a RedLink uniform approached once Risa got to the end. No doubt, the doll wanted to scold her for not letting an employee open the hatch. Of course, the company wasn’t as worried about passenger health as they were about legal action if someone got hurt. Not wanting to deal with the delay or the nattering, Risa sprinted around the artificial woman and down the hallway. She passed nine other terminals on her way to the starport’s central hub.

  The facility sat outside Elysium’s dome, north of the city by approximately ten miles as a safeguard against crashes. She followed the arrivals corridor to its end at a sixth-story deck full of benches and a sparse arrangement of travelers, false plants, and head-sized advert bots. Most of the structure remained unpainted. Gunmetal-blue plastisteel plates, girders, and reinforcing spurs glinted in the weak light of a fading sun. Overhead, a maze of tubes crisscrossed the space between the room and a transparent ceiling, bedecked with living vines.

  If not for her worry about Pavo, she might’ve stayed to stare at the stars.

  The south end of the platform offered an elevator to the ground level, past four inner stories full of hotels, restaurants, stores, and offices for various airlines. Four teens with neon-blue light emanating from the inside lenses of opaque metal glasses stood in a group, talking to each other as though conducting a military raid. One girl wiggled her fingers as if manipulating a holo-panel that didn’t exist. None were armed, and none moved.

  “Forty percent on the node, we got incoming… cover me. It’s almost blue,” said the girl.

  They’re just playing that stupid Red Dominion game. She hurried past them, shaking her head. Some company had the bright idea to map a shooter game to the real world, forcing its players to travel to real locations using their NetMinis as guns in ‘augmented reality.’ It had caused a stir when it came out that several virtual ‘battles’ drew the attention of the Mars Defense Force. She’d been about fifteen or so then, and remembered hearing the NewsNet drone on and on about how dangerous it was… the latest reckless trend sweeping through society, threatening the lives of your children, as the talking heads claimed. Dead teens made for excellent paranoia news. Of course, once the ratings died down, so did the furor. These days, the planet forgot three boys died over a video game.

  I wonder if the military is watching it for recruits. She walked as fast as she could without breaking into a trot, heading for the door and her best shot at finding Pavo.

  Elysium City and the Syndicate weren’t far away.

  Risa hopped a PubTran car to the Orbital Hotel, arriving seventeen minutes after exiting the shuttle. This time, she went right in the front door. Gold and red wallpaper lent an ancient aesthetic to the lobby. No one local ever tried to rent a room here, and the few out-of-towners who did seldom stayed long. Risa cast a sideways glance at five men in black suits seated around a marble oval coffee table. Three on an antique couch while two had pulled up padded chairs on the facing side. All stared at their NetMinis. Holographic poker cards shimmered amid clouds of Nicohaler vapor.

  “Guess they don’t pay you guys to be subtle,” muttered Risa on her way across the room. She ignored the desk and headed right for the thick, burgundy curtain to its left. “Where’s Walsh?”

  “You can’t just stroll in there,” yelled a pretty man dressed like a hotel employee. He tossed his curly hair out of his face with a jerk of his head. “Miss…?”

  “I think I just did.” Risa walked faster.

  He ducked out from behind the counter and followed her into a short hallway with an L-curve after ten steps, reaching for a handgun under his left arm. “Miss…”

  “I’m surprised they make you wear that silly uniform.”

  “Security breach,” said the man, in a lower tone.

  Risa ducked around the corner and jogged past two bathrooms, a utility closet, and evaded a huge man emerging from a small office full of holo-panels displaying every hallway and staircase in the building. She flung open a second set of curtains at the end, revealing a smaller version of the lobby with pricier décor. Rings of cushioned seats the color of port wine adored the base of eight faux-marble columns. The faint scent of cigar lingered in the air, as well as a trace of fruity perfume. She hoped whatever girl had been wearing it was at least seventeen.

  On the far side of the inner sanctum, a vague shadow moved behind a lattice of decorative bronze metal. She scooted away from the giant hand reaching for her back and darted across the room, stopping in front of the partition. Through the whorls of decorative metal, Mr. Walsh glanced up from his desk with a mixture of annoyance and respect.

  “Walsh… I need information.” Her breath fogged the partition. The scent of dusty metal teased at her nostrils.

  She clutched the edge of the desk and shot an icy look to the rear as an enforcer grabbed her shoulder. As soon as he saw her glowing violet eyes, all the menace fled from his face and he let go.

  “It must be truly important for you to barge in unannounced, Miss Black.” Walsh took a long pull on a cigar-shaped Nicohaler. “That or you’ve lost all regard for personal safety.” The flavor of peppermint and chocolate slipped past his teeth on pale vapor.

  “Both.” She refused to meet his gaze, staring instead at the buttons of his black silk vest, wondering how long they would contain his belly before popping off.

  “Information…” Walsh twirled the false cigar around his thick fingers. Pewter-colored hair remained motionless despite a stiff breeze from a portable fan at his left. “Information isn’t free.”

  “I wasn’t expecting free.” She squinted, flexing the part of her brain that should trigger her somatic detection system. No wavy lines appeared; the system did nothing. Shit. Damn, it worked at the hospital… or did it? Was Imari lying? Guess I got banged around harder than I thought. “How much?”

  “That, my dear girl, depends on exactly what you are looking for.” A deep, creaking groan of protesting metal came from Walsh’s leather chair as he leaned back.

  No, she… I don’t need a hunk of silicon to tell me she was worried.

  “A Defense Force officer went missing two days ago. The description makes it sound like a professional grab. I need to find him.”

  “Oh, something small.” Walsh wheezed into a chuckle that threatened to become a cough. “I’d love to be able to help you, Miss Black, but you know we have rules about direct confrontation with the law. The arrangement is mutual.”

  She closed her eyes and spoke in a drone. “How much?”

  An atomizer sizzled in the darkness for several seconds before minty chocolate breath blew over her face. “Miss Black, you verge on insulting me.”

  “What is that?” She waved at the cloud of vapor around her face.

  “To imply I am trying to extort you―”

  “No, that smell.”

  Walsh grinned. “Mocha peppermint. New shipment came in from Earth.”

  He’s like an overgrown boy with a candy cigar. “Any money in it?”

  “Not much, but it’s good to have some profitable enterprises going on the side.” He winked.

  “Are you being evasive or are you saying the Syndicate had nothing to do with it?” She leaned on the small lip in front of the partition.

  “Wasn’t us.” He exhaled again, puffing a plume of vapor straight up.

  Shit. Now what? “I’d like to see Tamashī again. I
s she still here?” Or did you sell her already?

  “Now that”―Walsh leaned forward, lips parting to a predatory smile―“I can help you with. However, as I said before…”

  “Info isn’t free. Yeah, I got that. What do you want?”

  “Easy. I’ll throw you one you’re good at.” Walsh leaned back while taking another drag. The fake ember on the tip flickered at the edges, wavering between bright red and orange. He blew the vapor out of the side of his mouth. “We need a man killed.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you need information and we want him dead.” Walsh poked a finger at something out of sight. The right side of his face lit up from an unseen holo-pane. Harsh shadows spread over the other half, exaggerating his features into a potbellied version of the Devil. “A gun doesn’t ask why. It spits out a bullet when the trigger is pulled.”

  I’m sorry Pavo. Risa let the air out of her lungs in a slow, controlled breath. “Fine. Deal.”

  Walsh gestured five sausage-fingers to the side. “You know where the elevator is. She’s in the same room. Just follow the sounds of explosions and giggling.” He smiled. “I’ll have the information waiting for you at the front desk on your way out.”

  “Fine.”

  She took two steps away before Walsh cleared his throat. “Oh, Risa… no special requests on this one.”

  “What?” Her hands clenched into fists. She stopped, but didn’t look back. “Special requests?”

  “We don’t care how you do it or how long it takes him to die. Instant and painless is fine.” Walsh winked.

  She stormed down a corridor lined with alcoves bearing tiny white statues of Greek nudes and doors to private rooms for the Syndicate’s higher-ups. The mere thought of what might go on in there kept her gaze pinned to the floor.

  Even after the elevator doors closed, Walsh’s dry chuckle echoed in her head.

  isa glared at the console display of a capsule elevator not much larger than a coffin. Four levels below the city surface, the doors parted with a wash of air touched by the scent of oil and the taste of old metal. Lights embedded in the corner where the corridor wall met the ceiling flickered. The whirr of actuators at the far end got louder as the ebon cyborg shifted to get a better look at her. He’d ditched the fedora, and the adjustment left the skeletal figure looking far more menacing.