“Sir, if you’ll—”
Captain Serrano gestured at the aug. “Why is this son of a bitch just standing there?”
“I commanded him not to move. He’s a victim here, too. No different than if a hacker got into his NIU.”
“Except, hackers exist. If you weren’t a Zero, I’d have you sent for psych evaluation for talking nonsense.” Captain Serrano glowered at the Division 5 officers. “What are you three just standin’ around for? Aerate that sumbich.”
A glowing aura of shimmery spectral flames surrounded Dorian’s body as he faded transparent. “There’s a time for summary executions, and cop-killers are definitely one of them. This man is not the one responsible.”
One unarmored Division 1 officer fainted.
Everyone else, including Captain Serrano, stared at Dorian, their expressions ranging from ‘whoa’ to ‘holy shit.’
A few seconds later, Dorian’s vaporous aura ceased with an audible whump, leaving him once again looking solid to Kirsten. Visibly tired, he slouched.
The whole precinct fell silent, save for the occasional sparking buzz from shot-up terminals.
“This is related to an active Inquest. I’m already chasing the man responsible for this attack. It isn’t Dr. Kouri.” Kirsten looked over the stunned faces gawking at her. “I assure you, this man is a victim. I read his mind. If you shoot him, you’ll be committing murder.”
Captain Serrano pointed at her. “I don’t like this. But I can’t explain it. I expect to see a full report. Who’s your immediate superior?”
“Captain Jonathan Eze.”
Serrano frowned. “Look, lieutenant, you stopped this rampage and likely saved lives here. I don’t mean to diminish what you did. But then you go an’ take the side of the killer?”
“I’m not taking the side of the killer, sir. I’m taking the side of an innocent man the actual killer used as a proxy. UCF Criminal Code, section 0.18-00177, a person who is acting under the influence of a psionic against their own free will to commit crimes is not considered culpable for those crimes. Section 0.18-00178 defines legal culpability for crimes committed by a proxy under psionic duress as falling on the psionic responsible for controlling them. The actual cop-killer is still out there.”
Dorian golf-clapped.
“Never heard of section zero-point-one-eight.” Captain Serrano folded his arms.
“Sir, those sections were added roughly seventy years ago when Division 0 became official. Everything in the UCFCC starting with a 0 prefix is related to psionic crimes. You wouldn’t really have much reason to learn it.”
Captain Serrano huffed. “Well, lieutenant, what do you think we should do with this man who blew the piss outta my precinct?”
“Dr. Kouri is the gun in the hand of the suspect I’m pursuing. If this guy survives arrest when I find him, he’s most likely going to end up on an asteroid mine. He’d probably prefer SO Parson atomizes his brain with her cannon.”
Squad Officer Parson snarled.
“As far as Dr. Kouri is concerned, he is a victim. I need to check him for any residual psionic issues, latent trigger commands, or injuries. Once I’m done, as far as I’m concerned, he’s free to go. If you want to give him a hard time after I finish, I can’t stop you. But it’s unnecessary.”
“That monster’s a damn doctor? Are you being sarcastic?” asked Officer Gonzalez.
“Not being sarcastic.” Kirsten growled mentally at the time wasted tap dancing in front of a Division 1 captain when she should be out hunting the rogue astral. “He’s a doctor who barely survived his former employer trying to assassinate him for exposing something illegal.”
Serrano scowled.
“Pardon me, captain. Let me finish with him so I can go find the man responsible for this attack.” Kirsten sidestepped to stand in front of Dr. Kouri. There isn’t anything dangerous remaining in your head. I said it to buy a little time and let them cool off.
Dr. Kouri nodded.
Why the spiked green hair? Makes you look like a crazed cyberganger.
“Came with the body, but it helps me blend in out there. Easier not to get shot at when the locals think I’m one of them.”
“Okay.” Kirsten opened her armband terminal. “I’ll try to be as quick as I can, but a mess like this is going to take a while.”
“I understand.” Dr. Kouri looked at the cops half surrounding him. “The actions you observed my mechanical body performing were not a product of my conscious mind. I remained trapped in a prison of my own cerebellum, forced to watch as your brethren fell. Perhaps it was a mistake of me to choose this body, but my options at the time were limited. I have not tried to access my finances and purchase a more appealing shell for fear my former employers will realize they failed to kill me and try again. It had not occurred to me such an event as being possessed by a spirit even approached the realm of possible.”
The cops exchanged glances, evidently not the least bit prepared to hear an eight-foot hulking cyber-thug speak in such an educated tone.
Dorian stepped up beside Kirsten. “Spoke to the four victims. They all want you to talk to their families for them.”
Kirsten bowed her head. As the adrenaline of the moment wore off, tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. Four officers dead. I have to find this bastard fast. “Of course.”
28
Once More Below
Sector 4067 appeared unremarkable on the Navcon system but had quite a different story in the NPF database.
Though lacking in the blight of a grey or black zone, this particular five-mile-square slice of West City boasted a 400 percent increase in homicide rate compared to national average—which put it about on par with the northern third of East City. While letting the auto-drive run, Kirsten skimmed the stats. Most of the fatalities for the past few years in Sector 4067 involved known associates of street gangs. Namely, the Sixty Sevens, CR994 Crew, and the Sirens. The last one had a tag linking to a Division 0 record, so she clicked it.
The Sirens’ leader, Natalia Kuznetsov, was a registered psionic as well as an emigre from the ACC. Despite being involved in a street gang, the woman claimed to use her abilities purely for self-defense. The ramifications of a telempath being the madam of a sketchy brothel didn’t escape Kirsten. She’d declined to join Division 0 or even go in for help developing her powers. No surprise, an escapee from the Allied Corporate Council had a strong fear of the law.
I can’t even imagine living somewhere they kill psionics on sight… having to hide who you are from everyone…
The majority of homicide incidents connected to The Sirens involved low-level members, a startlingly high ratio of them being the killer rather than victim. With few exceptions, the incidents went into the system as justifiable self-defense. Kirsten had her suspicions. A little telempathic sympathy could go a long way in making a Division 1 cop take things a certain way. Considering the dead in all cases belonged to other gangs, the police wouldn’t have put a ton of effort into investigation.
She hated the ‘just a gang punk, they did our job for us’ attitude prevalent in Division 1.
However, in a sector like this where street gangs reenacted the Wild West on a thrice-a-week schedule, if people had to die, better it be the reckless idiots rather than innocent bystanders—which still happened, naturally.
It seemed almost crazy how this sector hadn’t descended into grey by now. She looked a little deeper for an explanation why people not involved with gangs would stick around such a violent location… and discovered the answer. The gangs fought over a highly lucrative trade in recreational chems. This single sector produced seventeen (rounded) percent of all chems used in West City. It also had a medical facility, Omni Community Care, providing services at no cost to anyone who could prove they lived inside Sector 4076. People from the adjacent sectors bordering 4076 enjoyed massive discounts. The UCF government required all medical facilities to provide care at no cost to minors under age eighteen, but this place wa
ived fees on adults, too—provided they had a permanent address in the sector.
“Wow, check this out.” Kirsten pointed. “No wonder people stay here.”
Dorian leaned left to read the holo-panel floating over the console. “Bet it started off as the big gangs throwing money at the hospital to keep it open for their people, and it evolved from there. Keeping the sector out of the grey makes life easier on the chem producers. They probably don’t really even notice the cost. One sector is responsible for seventeen percent of the entire chem profit in West City?” He whistled.
“Unreal,” muttered Kirsten.
“People will put up with living in a warzone if it means medical insurance doesn’t take everything they have—or sign their death warrant.”
Kirsten tapped her fingers on the control sticks, debating turning around and going back to get a suit of PSI armor. Sector 4076 looked dangerous, but she didn’t plan on being there too long. Also, the gangers mostly shot at each other. Civilian casualties happened primarily from stray bullets or the occasional crash when an advert bot strayed too close to a gunfight trying to sell ammo. Since Evan hadn’t panic-called her yet, she figured she wouldn’t have too much trouble.
A short while later, she dove out of the hover lane, descending to street level, landing on the road a little over a block from The Penis Merchant. Except for the name, nothing else about the cyberware shop stood out as inappropriate from the outside. Like most commercial properties in West City, it occupied the ground floor of a high rise, the outer walls a suggestive light brown skin color, as opposed to the shiny silver plastisteel-and-glass above the first level.
Pedestrians made their way along both sidewalks, a little over half of them appearing to be ordinary citizens, the rest fringers or off-gridders likely here to buy chems. She had an easy time recognizing the residents, as pretty much everyone wore body armor, even children. Being in a place where even five-year-olds ran around in tiny versions of combat infantry suits made her second guess not going back for her armor.
I should probably start keeping it in the trunk.
She parked on the side of the street and got out.
People going by on the near side stared at her. Most had helmets or face guards on, hiding their expressions, but she read worry, suspicion, or confusion in their eyes. A maybe seven-year-old girl in bright purple body armor bearing a faerie image on the chest waved at her while yelling, “Hiii!” in a cheerful voice.
Kirsten smiled back at her, returning the wave.
A boy about Evan’s age in body armor covered in cartoon animals saluted her.
She saluted him back, forcing a smile past the somber sight of children not even in double-digit ages wearing armor. At least the little ones didn’t carry handguns. Some adults wore armored vests, others full suits. Advert bots approached her in seconds, trying to sell body armor, medevac care plans—since she didn’t have a registered address in this sector—and stimpaks.
Ignoring them, Kirsten crossed the street and headed for The Penis Merchant, specifically the alley next to it. In case anyone happened to be watching her, she avoided looking at the place.
Dorian noted her blush, but kept his mouth shut.
Perhaps someday, the idea of sexuality wouldn’t remind her of the two worst moments in her life and she’d think only of Samuel Chang. At least Konstantin had been more or less a near miss; however, almost having sex with a man who’d mind-controlled her bothered her almost as much as the bastard who took advantage of her in the Beneath eleven years ago. Forcing those thoughts aside, Kirsten attempted to realign sexual thoughts entirely with Sam. Didn’t work terribly well, but she tried. Maybe if she kept trying, it would eventually work.
The alley behind the racy cyberware shop had an unusually low amount of random garbage. Then again, this place hadn’t become a grey zone, so the infrastructure didn’t ignore it. An alcove behind the building held six large trash compactors as well as a handful of twentysomethings in mismatched, cheap clothing. They all wore the numeral 76 somewhere, on patches, glowing NanoLED tattoos, giant T-shirt logos, and so on.
One woman in her early twenties attempted to swim on the ground, behaving as if the plastisteel surface was water. Two guys and another young woman lay in a heap, staring straight up at the sky, making faces like they watched a comet plummeting out of the heavens right at them.
“Remember kids, don’t do drugs,” said Dorian.
Kirsten stared aghast at the gangers out of their minds. “Seriously.”
“Old slogan. The government used to try to prevent drug use. Now they kind of encourage it. Keeps the fringers pacified.”
“They do not encourage it.”
“Not treating chems as illegal encourages it.”
She frowned, unable to dispute his point. Only a few—really awful—chems got police attention. Lace, because it was so damn addictive and killed everyone who used it in six months or so. Phindara because it took away free will, acted as an aphrodisiac from hell, and had an association with human trafficking. Nightcandy sat on the borderline between something the police would ignore and prosecute, depending on the situation.
The Seventy-Sixers largely ignored Kirsten as she walked by. A guy with cobalt blue hair and a glowing cyan NanoLED raccoon-mask tattoo waved at her in a casual ‘hey, what’s up’ manner. Not wanting to be rude—or provoke them—she waved back.
Hmm.
Kirsten stopped, considered a moment, then approached him.
Except for the swimmer and the comet-watchers, the rest of the group tensed up… though her small size and black uniform appeared to calm them enough not to run or go for weapons.
She peered up at the guy with the glowing raccoon mask. “Not here to mess with you guys. Looking for a psionic suspect. Have you seen a man in his late thirties, blond hair, dark skin, long black coat? Possibly had glowing purple eyes.”
The more coherent gang members’ surface thoughts varied from being impressed at her ‘balls’ for not wearing armor in this area to wondering why the police hired young teens. The blue-haired guy who waved at her thought her adorable and hoped she got out of here before anything hurt her. Two had seen the guy she described, though didn’t consciously remember him or know where he lived.
“Maybe,” said the blue-haired man. “Lot of people come by here looking for product. Hard to remember anyone who don’t do crazy stuff.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She waved, then headed deeper into the alley.
“Didn’t take much convincing.” Dorian chuckled.
“I cheated.”
“Ahh.”
She glanced at him. “If we find this guy, be careful. Don’t go charging in. He could affect you.”
“And you can snap me out of it.”
“I don’t want to hit you with the lash.” She squeezed her fist.
“No need to haul off and wallop me with it. Just a poke ought to do—if needed.”
The Monwyn theme erupted from her NetMini, Evan’s ringtone. While she would normally adore a chance to talk to him, receiving a sudden call from her mildly precognitive son in the middle of her duty shift while in a dangerous area scared her.
Kirsten grabbed the little device off her belt, swiping to answer. “Ev?”
His face appeared on the holo-panel, wide-eyed with fear. The boy seemed at the edge of crying, but within seconds of her answering, his emotions shifted to relief. Walter, Shawn, and another boy she didn’t recognize peered over his shoulder. Scenery of an empty classroom behind them told her the boys worked on citizenship points.
“Mom! The hatch is gonna blow up!”
“Hatch?” Kirsten looked around but saw nothing ‘hatch’ like.
“The ones in the ground to go down. I saw you opening one and it exploded.” He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to slow his breathing. “Scared me!”
The ghost said this guy had ‘the charge.’ He’s gotta be in the Beneath. If Ev saw me opening a hatch, it means I’m going to end up goin
g down there soon.
“I won’t let a hatch blow me up.” She wanted to hug the hologram, but it wouldn’t do much good. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”
“You didn’t scare me. My brain scared me.” Evan wiped tears. “You’re gonna be okay now, pretty sure.”
She bit her lip. “I’ll be careful. Call right away if anything else happens, okay?”
“Yeah, totally.” He nodded so hard his hair went everywhere, then made an earnest face at her like he really needed a hug.
“I’ll find you as soon as I’m at the PAC.”
He grinned. “Love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, Ev.”
It didn’t fully hit her the boy saved her life until after she hung up. Kirsten stood there a moment, too choked up to see or think. Eventually, she barked a tearful laugh.
“I’m missing the humor here.” Dorian rested a hand on her shoulder.
“Not funny. Just thinking it’s backwards. I’m the mom. I should be saving his life, not the other way around.”
“You already did, K. He’s just returning the favor.”
She sniffle-laughed and wiped her eyes. “Okay. There’s an access hatch to the Beneath around here somewhere.”
“Rigged with a bomb, no doubt. Probably this guy’s booby-trap.”
“My thoughts exactly. We’re in the right place. Can you kill the bomb?”
“As long as it has an electronic detonator. If it’s an old mechanical switch, I’d have to set it off.” He smiled. “I’ve always been curious what it would be like to stand in the middle of an explosion.”
“Hah. Sure you have.” Kirsten accessed her armband terminal, pulling up a detail map of her immediate area. “And setting it off might alert him someone’s coming. I’d rather be quiet.”
“Better loud and alive.”
The Shadow Fixer Page 38