Ghost Ranger

by Dayne Edmondson

  I gaped, flabbergasted. This was the headmaster of a school, a supposedly educated man, and he believed I was less than human because of a circumstance beyond my control? “I respectfully disagree, and again request admittance to your school.”

  “Request denied,” the headmaster replied immediately. “You have one minute to leave the premises or the National Guard will have no choice but to forcefully remove you.”

  “Over our dead bodies,” Terrence growled.

  The headmaster paid him no mind. “You can end this conflict.”

  The words reverberated in my head. If I just walked back down the steps, walked away, there would be no more chance of bloodshed. No more people would die, the hostilities would die down. But then the bigots win, my inner voice said. Which was true. They would proclaim victory from the rooftops. It would present a precedent whereby bigots could justify denying people like me services, entry to buildings and more, backed by the history of this day. “No,” I declared. “I will not back down.”

  The headmaster glared daggers at me but shrugged. “Very well. Commander, remove her please.”

  “With pleasure,” the commander said, motioning to me.

  Four of the guards standing behind him approached, moving past the headmaster to stand in front of him and their commander.

  My own guards stepped forward, forming a wall of flesh. “Back the frack down before you get hurt,” Terrence said. Behind us, I could hear weapons being readied. I looked behind and found the rangers raising their weapons to point at the police forces facing off against them. What would it take to get them to back down?

  The answer to that came a moment later as thunder boomed in the distance. Only it wasn’t thunder. My eyes tracked skyward toward the cause.

  There, descending through the clouds, supplementing the one already there, were a dozen or more ships of that size. Clouds of ships, looking like gnats from afar, swarmed toward the surface...toward me.

  A shadowy cloud materialized behind the ranger lines, materializing into two people. The first looked remarkably like Isabelle, who, along with her ability to shift, suggested this was Bridgette Thorpe, Isabelle’s mother and my aunt. For her part, she returned to shadowy mist and disappeared. Who knew where she was off to.

  The other person was my father. I wasn’t one to weep, I swear, but again tears formed in my eyes. He’d come for me.

  The National Guards had stopped at the sound of thunder and stood tensed across from my guard detail. Uncertainty had finally caught up with them.

  My father looked around, at the assembled rangers and the counter-acting police forces, then up at the National Guards and finally settling his eyes on me. He smiled and ascended the stairs, giving me a hug. “Rachel, I’m so glad you’re all right.”

  “You have impeccable timing,” I remarked. “Things were just about to blow up, possibly literally.” I chuckled at my own grim humor.

  “I came as quick as I could,” he replied. “I brought the Nightblade and the rest of the fleet.”

  I pointed to the sky. “Yeah, it’s pretty impressive.”

  “Now, who’s in charge of the idiots keeping you from entering this school?”

  “I’m glad everyone agrees they’re idiots,” I responded. “The headmaster is right there,” I gestured over my shoulder with a thumb. “But the governor is the one who authorized them being sent out.”

  “Yes, the governor,” he said, in a ponderous tone. “I’ll be dealing with him later.” He stepped past me and approached the National Guard line. “Headmaster?”

  The plump man, barely visible behind the line of guards, spoke, “Who are you?”

  If I’d been drinking something, I would have spit it out. I guess he hadn’t seen who shifted in. Or maybe he’d missed the new ships in orbit. Either way, he was proving the idiot title fit.

  “I am your worst nightmare,” my father began. “I am Dawyn Darklance, supreme commander of the Federation, Sword of Justice and a dozen other titles I don’t care to recite right now. What matters is an entire fleet is at my command in orbit and you facilitated the circumstances in which my daughter almost died. So, you will understand if I am angry.” Despite saying he was angry, he’d said everything in a deadly cold tone that could have frozen fire and sent a chill up my spine despite the heat of the morning sun.

  “I...I...didn’t know,” the headmaster stuttered, still hiding behind the guards. “Your daughter...I didn’t...of course she can enter. Get out of the way!” he shouted, presumably at the National Guardsmen in front of him. “Let her through, let her through!”

  The guards moved out of the way, with only their commander standing in the way. He looked from my father to me and back, face pale. It was as if he hadn’t realized I was someone important before that point. He stepped back, turned crisply and marched away. He must have given a silent order to the remaining guards, for they fell in and soon the entire company forming a perimeter around the high school were marching away from the grounds.

  With the guards gone, the headmaster stood there, alone.

  I glared at him, the reality of what just happened crashing into me like a wave. He was the reason for the violent mob. It was his fault Orin died, senselessly. My hands balled into fists and red encroached on my vision. I let out a guttural growl. A vision flashed in my mind’s eye of me lifting the headmaster up by the throat and crushing it.

  A hand on my chest returned me to reality. “There’s been enough blood shed today,” my father said. He stepped in front of me and stared into my eyes. If he feared what I would do to him, he didn’t show it. Then again, the history books said my father could slow or even stop time. If I did reach for him, he would just stop my motion and move out of the way. Probably. I hoped I would never find out which of us was faster.

  I shook my head to clear it and held his gaze. “You’re right.”

  “Now, if you’re ready, I’ll walk you into the school.”

  “No.”

  “No?” he asked, perplexed.

  “I’ve decided I don’t want to go in. There’s been enough drama for one day, and there’s no way the students and teachers will accept me after what just happened. And...” I looked back to the rangers forming a perimeter and the transports even now landing companies of Marines around the campus as the police retreated. “...I’ve decided I want to help people in a different way.”

  My father nodded slowly. “I take it you’ve decided to change your career choice.”

  “Are you upset?”

  “If you’re referring to joining the military then no, I’m not upset. In fact, I’m proud.”

  “I figured you’d want to keep me safe.”

  “Sweetheart, I do. But there comes a time when parents must let their children leave the nest. They have to admit their children are ready to face the world and then watch them fly away. In your case, I will quite literally watch you fly away in a shuttle.”

  I smiled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence in me.” I cringed as my implant informed me the temporary injected nanites had run their course. Pain flooded me an instant later. It was less than before, thankfully, but still caused me to yelp in pain. “But I’d really like that med-evac right about now.”

  Chapter 13

  I awoke an indeterminable time later and flinched at the bright white lights overhead while my mind struggled to banish my dreams and remember my past. “Can someone turn those down,” I said aloud, pointing toward the ceiling.

  The lights dimmed a few seconds later. “Glad to see you’re awake.” Terrence’s voice. I turned and saw him, standing by the door. The other three members of his squad were present as well. None of them wore armor, instead wearing tight black synthetic fiber suits like what Isabelle wore.

  “Is...” I stopped, my memories returning in a flood. I was about to say Orin, I realized with a wave of sadness. The boy who’d died protecting me. If not for him, I could have died before help arrived. “Is my father around?” I asked instead as I
sat up and fussed with the hospital gown.

  “He’s still talking to the governor,” Terrence said. “He said to notify him when you woke and he would return soon.”

  “I’d be doing a hell of a lot more than talking,” Phillip put in. “I’d be kicking ass and taking names.”

  “And that is why he’s the supreme commander and you’re a grunt,” Delenn pointed out. “There’s a time for force and a time for diplomacy. Women know that, and some men do too.”

  “That’s only because women are the weaker sex,” Phillip replied. “They have no choice but to...oof...” he grunted as Delenn punched him in the gut. He found himself on the floor as Eleanor swept his legs out from under him.

  “Wanna revisit that statement?” Delenn asked.

  “That’s not fair,” Phillip mumbled. “It was two on one.”

  Delenn snorted. “Keep telling yourself that.”

  “Why aren’t you wearing your armor?” I asked.

  Terrence shrugged. “It gets uncomfortable, sometimes. Yes, it’s more comfortable than rigid Marine armor, but it still traps heat and moisture. And, since there’s no danger right now, we can afford to not be armored up.”

  “Yeah, it chafes,” Phillip said as he rose to his feet, unaided by the women.

  Not wanting to picture Phillip scratching himself, I changed the subject. “We’re on the Nightblade again?” I asked.

  “You got it,” Terrence replied. “Don’t you recognize it?”

  I chuckled. “You got me there. I’ve spent more time in a hospital room in the last three weeks than I have in my entire life.” I sobered. “Was there any more bloodshed after I evacuated? How long was I out?” The last thing I remembered was loading into the transport and being injected with a sedative they warned would knock me out. They’d explained I had to tell my implant to allow the sedation to proceed. Speaking of. Are you there?

  Yes, miss, I am always at the ready. How may I assist you today?

  Why did I only just hear from you when I was dying?

  A failsafe, miss. I was dormant in your brain. However, emergency protocols dictate that in the event of life-threatening wounds, I activate the appropriate alerts.

  How did you know I had life-threatening wounds? I’m dead.

  There are still signs of life present in you. Your infected blood still pumps, only it does not require breathing, and hence no oxygen. The synapses still fire in your brain, and the pain receptors still activate in much the same way as they did when you were alive. There are many other signs if you’d like a comprehensive list.

  No, that’s all right. I hesitated, feeling awkward. Thanks for saving my life.

  No thanks are necessary. I was doing what I am programmed to do.

  “No, the police forces cleared out after your father’s show of force and Federation personnel made their way back to the fleet a few minutes after you evacced. You’ve been out for a couple hours now.”

  Terrence’s voice surprised me. I’d had a relatively lengthy conversation with my implant in the second or two before Terrence replied. Interesting.

  “Orin,” I began, clearing my throat and continuing. Don’t cry, don’t cry.

  If you’d like, I can cease tear production and halt tear distribution temporarily, my implant offered.

  Not right now, thanks, I said.

  “...was his body recovered?”

  Terrence nodded. “It was recovered, but we recommend a closed casket funeral. Your father was going to speak to you about making arrangements.”

  “He had no family,” I said. “None living anyway.”

  “As the records indicated. You can bury him tomorrow, most likely.”

  I fell silent then, images of Orin filling my mind. Guilt welled up, choking me. If I hadn’t gone down there, he wouldn’t have walked with me. If he hadn’t walked with me, he wouldn’t have died defending me. I was the reason Orin was dead. Now tears did well up. Let them fall, I ordered my implant. I still don’t know your name, I pointed out.

  I did explain my designation is IM-8-LNT.

  Yes, but I can’t call you that. I need an easier name.

  I am quite responsive. Even calling me “implant” is an acceptable input.

  Well, I want a more human-sounding name. A name floated to the top of my consciousness. A name I’d heard in many holos growing up. How about Jarvis?

  I am amenable to any name you assign. I do not have an opinion either way.

  Tone down the enthusiasm. That’s a joke, I hurried to add, before he actually turned down an enthusiasm setting. Not that I thought one existed, but just in case. Fine, Jarvis it is.

  A fine name, miss.

  Before I could ask my implant, Jarvis, any other questions, like what his full capabilities were, the door to the room slid open and my father entered. I smiled widely at him. “Hey.”

  “Hi, sweetheart,” my father said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Well, they said it’s only been a few hours, but I’m not feeling any pain. The doctors must have given me some insane treatments.”

  “They did, actually,” he replied. “I don’t know all the details, as medicine always bored me, but from what I understand the amount of nanites they dumped into your system while you were sleeping would kill a normal person. It’s only when a patient is sedated that that volume of nanites can be used.”

  I can confirm your father’s words, Jarvis chimed in. I counted ten billion one hundred million and...

  That’s enough, Jarvis. I don’t need an exact count.

  Of course, miss. I’ll return to standby mode until you require my assistance again.

  Thanks. “Thank goodness for modern medicine,” I said aloud.

  “And thank goodness for your unique physiology,” my father said. “Without the virus working together with the nanites natively in your blood since you were cured, you wouldn’t have survived until help came.” He clenched his fists. “Which reminds me. I had a nice long talk with the governor and made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that any mistreatment of the undead on his planet will have me knocking on his door to hold him personally accountable. I think I put the fear of God into him.”

  I chuckled. “Now to get the rest of the galaxy to fall into line. You can’t believe it will only be one planet that is bigoted, can you?” My father wasn’t that naive, was he?

  “No, of course not. But we set an example today and drew a line in the sand. You set an example. The video of your actions today has already gone galactic and I’ve received messages from countless senators indicating their support for civil rights legislation protecting the rights of those infected by the virus. Change is coming.”

  “That’s good,” I said, sobering up as my thoughts turned darker. “Dad...do you ever feel guilty?”

  “Guilty about what?”

  “About people who died at your command, or under your command, or because of an action you took or a decision you made.”

  He nodded slowly. “I’m guessing this is about Orin. Am I right?”

  I nodded. “Yes.” It wasn’t worth denying. “I’m feeling a lot of guilt right now over his death. I keep replaying it in my head, over and over, thinking about what I could have done differently.”

  Several long moments passed as my father studied the floor. “To answer your question, I did feel guilty, long ago. Can you guess when?”

  He’d said long ago, so I guessed he didn’t mean my mother. Further back? “No,” I said at last, not trusting myself to elaborate and berate him for not saying he felt guilt over my mother’s death. It hadn’t technically been his fault, even indirectly, but still.

  “Two thousand and some years ago, at the Battle of Pelinor Field. The woman I loved died, Anwyn, cut down by the Krai’kesh during their final assault on Tar Ebon.”

  I remembered the history lesson now. Anwyn had been a druid, but her powers were nullified by the Krai’kesh crystal and she’d died protecting my father. “That’s when you went into a rage, isn�
��t it?”

  “Yes. The only time I can recall stopping time completely. I became so angry that my power exploded outward and all time, or as far as I could see, stopped. That momentary freezing of time allowed me the time, literally, to destroy the magic nullification crystal the Krai’kesh hauled along with them. Destroying that crystal allowed the mages of Tar Ebon, including your uncle Jason, along with John and Ashley, to finally use their magic to turn the tide of battle. Her one sacrificial act won the day.”

  “But you still felt guilty,” I prompted.

  “Yes. For years, centuries, I blamed myself. Intellectually I knew it wasn’t my fault - her blood was on the hands of the Krai’kesh. But emotionally, I continued to ache.”

  “What changed?”

  “I met your mother,” he said, smiling wanly. “For centuries I’d avoided love, attachment and relationships. When I met your mother, I felt an irresistible pull. For the first time since Anwyn’s death I didn’t feel that twang of guilt when I looked at her. Then the impossible happened.”

  “What?” I asked. I hadn’t heard this story before. Not surprising, considering my father had led a secret life right under my nose.

  “I was on Icarus Station with you mother when, and I know it sounds insane, but I saw Anwyn.”

  My eyes widened. “You saw her?” He was right, it did sound insane. “Like a ghost or spirit or something?”

  “No. In the flesh. I touched her. Hugged her. She was as real to me as you are.”

  “Did anyone else see her?” I asked, skepticism creeping in.

  “No. I saw a flash out of the corner of my eye and there she was. I pointed to her, but your mother couldn’t see her.”

  “Was it a hallucination?”

  He shook his head. “No. It was real. Security footage afterward showed a distortion of some sort. But your uncle was able to filter it and it showed Anwyn, as clear as day.”

  “Wow,” I said, impressed. “What did she say?”

  “She didn’t know she was deceased. To her, she had just fallen asleep in the tavern we were staying at on the way back up to Tar Ebon to fight the Krai’kesh.”