Guardian

by Matthew S. Cox

  “Maybe you can do something.” He shifted his jaw side to side. “Don’t let Nila throw her happiness away over me. I’d rather she find someone alive than wallow in what could have been.”

  Kirsten nodded.

  “So.” He slid off the desk and studied the screens. “Anything?”

  “Just a big fat wad of nope.” She melted back into her chair.

  Captain Eze rushed out of his office, heading for her desk.

  “Oh shit. That’s not good,” said Dorian.

  Kirsten sat up straight, then stood when the captain made eye contact. “Sir?”

  “We received a report of a 21-04 in progress.”

  “Are you sure?” Attempted murder by manifested spirit visible to normal people was so rare she’d only seen it once before. “That’s…” She checked her utility belt. “I’m on the way, sir. Send the nav to the pat-vee.”

  “Wait.” Captain Eze put a hand on her shoulder. “You can’t drive there.”

  She blinked at him.

  “It’s on the Moon.” He looked as apologetic as he did worried. “Well, technically it’s near the moon. An unexplained phenomena manifested on a lunar orbital platform operated by Gravion Interstellar.”

  Kirsten slid her NetMini off her belt. He knew. “Guess I’m spending the night. How dangerous is it? What’s been reported?”

  Captain Eze walked with her to the elevator. “As far as we know, there is one employee out on a berth who refuses to come inside and only screams over comm. I don’t have time to give you a full briefing right now. They’ll bring you up to speed on the DS2. This is as Code 3 as things get in space. I’ll fill you in on the details over comms once you’re airborne.”

  Kirsten flipped the NetMini over and over in her hand. “Is it even worth it? I mean, I hate to sound like that, but… It’s going to take hours to get there.”

  His expression went grim. “We’re not expecting the woman to survive. Primarily, you’re going there to deal with the spirit so it doesn’t kill anyone else. The DS2 is already on the roof waiting for you.”

  They stopped by a pair of armored gloss-white doors, which slid open with a faint hiss, revealing a large elevator. She entered, turned to face the doors, and dialed Nila Assad.

  The woman’s head appeared in hologram, black hair and olive skin stark compared to the bright area around her. “Hey, K.”

  Bands of light slid down the walls as the chamber flooded with the background thrum of machinery.

  “Nils… I don’t have a lot of time. Got a situation in Lunar orbit. I won’t be back for at least a day. Can you please watch Evan? He’s… expecting it, so he shouldn’t be too upset.”

  “Oh, sure. He’s no trouble at all.” Nila stared up at her. “Don’t do anything stupid out there.”

  “I’ll try.” Now for the hard part. She hung up and called Evan.

  The classroom murmured. Almost everyone had tuned out of Mr. Vasquez’s boring lecture on the Battle of Laredo in the later stages of the Corporate War. Vast numbers of impoverished Mexican citizens as well as poverty-stricken Texans succumbed to promises of a better world run by privatization rather than a government concerned only with the enrichment of politicians and the elite. A conglomerate of multiple corporations―what would become the Allied Corporate Council―threw money at the people. The old United States government had appealed to patriotism, but cold, hard cash proved the victor. For people who had been under the boot of ‘the Man’ for so long, the wages (tax free of course) promised by the corporations called a siren song.

  “Of course,” said Mr. Vasquez, “the ACC could not sustain that business model for long, but they knew they wouldn’t have to. Most of the men and women involved in the Laredo battle wouldn’t survive to get paid more than once or twice.” The classroom’s giant holographic screen displayed a map behind him, where a mass of maroon dots converged on a much smaller group of green ones over a basic geometric hint of a city’s buildings. “Nine hundred and forty thousand or so people who had no training and no experience in combat hurled themselves at three Coalition units, two US and one Canadian. About eleven thousand.”

  Evan winced, but not from Mr. Vasquez’s story of how almost all of the million civilians-turned-corporates got slaughtered. He reached into his backpack and pulled out the NetMini. This felt like the dream. The classroom, the map, Mr. Vasquez’s voice saying nine hundred thousand…

  It vibrated, and the word ‘Mom’ appeared on the screen.

  He held his hand over it long enough for it to read his prints. Kirsten’s head appeared in front of a white wall where a thin strip of white glow passed from ceiling to floor in a rhythmic pulse.

  “Ev…”

  “I know, Mom. You gotta go, and won’t be home tonight. Am I gonna go to Nila’s?”

  “Wren,” said Mr. Vasquez. “Why are you on a vid call in the middle of class?”

  “Yeah, she’s going to pick you up.” Kirsten’s head swiveled to look at the teacher. “Specialist. Sorry for interrupting. I’ll only be a moment.”

  “Agent.” Mr. Vasquez saluted her.

  “Be good to Nila and I’ll see you as soon as I can get back. Probably tomorrow. There’s a spirit trying to hurt people on a platform where they build starships.”

  “Okay, Mom. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Ev.”

  Despite expecting the call, heaviness settled in his gut as he put the NetMini away. Much to his surprise, no one in the class snickered or made fun of the mushy exchange. Four other kids whose parents were active duty Division 0 looked at him with that knowing, somber stare.

  After a moment of silence, Mr. Vasquez resumed talking about how, despite their training and experience, the sheer numbers of citizens eventually overwhelmed the military detachment, forcing them to call in an airstrike.

  “And that was the first use of tactical nuclear weapons in the corporate war. The old government woefully underestimated the threat, and by the time they understood, the situation had escalated beyond repair.”

  Evan huddled down in his seat, hoping his sense of trepidation at his mother’s absence came from not wanting to be in his room alone instead of her being in danger. Something had been there last night. Something or someone that definitely did not like him. His mind filled with the image of Seneschal, the corporate guy in the long black coat staring at him in the parking lot in front of the 500th Street church.

  Naw… Mom blew him up.

  Mr. Vasquez’s lecture swallowed time. The beeper made half the class jump when it announced lunch period. Evan shut down his desk terminal and slung his backpack over one shoulder as he stood. He caught sight of Abernathy at the far end of the hallway, standing near the wall with his hands clasped behind his back like a principal observing his students.

  His worry vanished to a sense of mission and opportunity, and he ran to the cafeteria. It took almost ten minutes to get to the end of the lunch line, after four of the school staff stopped him to ask about his glowing eyes. Three believed him, but one needed a surface thought scan to make sure he wasn’t ‘up to no good.’

  Evan bounced on his toes, impatient to get up to the serving station. As the line inched forward, child by child, he scanned the tables for Shani. He spotted her sitting with Ruby as she always did, at a little round table by one of the windows overlooking the garden. He frowned through the transparent barrier at the offerings up for lunch: a hamburger-like substance rendered in a frightening shade of bright green, cauliflower-crust pizza, and pink-grey fish pretending to be salmon. That looked the most natural in terms of color, so he pointed at it.

  With tray in hand, he hurried over to the girls’ table and sat next to Shani.

  “Hey,” said Ruby. “Whoa, your eyes are burning.”

  Shani nibbled on her greenburger. “He’s looking at ghosts. Hey.”

  “Your mom’s on a later shift, right?”

  “Yeah.” Shani lifted the top bun with her hand; salt and pepper shakers whirled a
bout in a telekinetic dance for a second, dusting the patty before she set the bun down.

  Evan scrunched up his face at it. “Does it taste as bad as it looks?”

  “It doesn’t taste like anything.” Shani tried another bite. “She’s off duty at seven.”

  “What is it?” asked Ruby with a suspicious stare.

  Shani shrugged. “Veggie burger.”

  “I’m sleeping over tonight. Mom’s going to the Moon.”

  The girls looked up.

  Ruby whined. “Oh, that’s so cool. I wanna go to the Moon.”

  “Are there ghosts on the Moon?” whispered Shani.

  Evan shrugged. “Gotta be. Mom’s going. I wanna help Abernathy tonight. We’ll have time after school before your mom takes us home since she works later than my mom.”

  Shani shivered. “I dunno.”

  “You promised.” Evan tried the fish. Much to his shock, it tasted okay. “I’ll tell them we’re hunting for ghosts. It’s not a total lie. I’m looking for a part of a ghost.”

  “Mrs. Han quit,” said Ruby. “We got this new teacher, Miss Heath, who’s like so annoying.”

  Shani rolled her eyes. “Yeah, she’s too happy. Keeps talking.”

  Ruby laughed. “Guess it’s better than havin’ a teacher who hates kids.”

  “Okay.” Shani looked down. “I’ll help.”

  “Uhh.” Ruby’s gaze shifted back and forth between them. “No way. I ain’t gettin’ in trouble like that. I won’t tell on you, but I’m not gonna do it.”

  Evan nodded. “‘Kay. It’s just the archives anyway.”

  After the last class period ended, Evan walked down the main school corridor, head ducked, ignoring everyone racing over to waiting parents. Maybe one in fifteen kids only showed up for school and still lived at home with parents who had no problems with psionics. He shuffled along with the majority heading for the elevator down to the dormitory. Two older cadets from the high school accompanied the children on their walk. A few minutes later, Evan left his backpack on the couch in the dorm’s rec area and ducked into the bathroom for some much needed relief.

  Not two seconds after he sidled up to a wall urinal and let fly, the sound of breathing behind him made things slow down. He glanced over his shoulder, twisting to see behind him, and failed to stifle a yelp. Near the wall, a mangled mass of flesh in the approximate shape of a man paced back and forth. He looked way older than Mom, but not white-haired, and like he’d taken a dive off the top of a high-rise building. Bits of his insides hung out, dangling around his knees, and bright red bloodstains saturated his clothes.

  Catching himself peeing on the floor, Evan reoriented himself at the urinal. After finishing up, he approached the spirit, not quite looking at him. A flat, silver disc-shaped bot zipped out of a slot in the wall, heading for the mess.

  “Hi. I’m Evan. Are you trapped here?”

  A gurgling noise emanated from the figure. He grumbled in Spanish and took a swing, but the fist had no substance. Evan shook off a mild case of brain freeze and stepped back. The ghost pointed at him and moaned. A series of unintelligible syllables followed before an icy whisper of “die” sent a chill down his spine.

  “Uhh, no thanks. What’s your problem?” The apparition tried to grab him by the throat. At the beginning of pressure closing off his windpipe, Evan jumped back and glared up at the spirit. “Why are you mad at me?”

  The mangled visage pointed at his head. “Abomination.”

  Evan scowled. “You hate psionics.”

  A long moan accompanied a nod.

  “Did a psionic kill you?”

  The ghost nodded. Again, the whispery voice chilled the room. “Daughter.”

  “Oh no way…” Evan blinked. “Are you that guy from the video… Hernandez?”

  He growl-gurgled.

  I gotta tell Mom about this guy. Evan ran out of the bathroom, annoyed at himself for not having any way to threaten ghosts. He raced down the long hospital-white corridor, sneakers squeaking as he slalomed around teachers on the way to the recreation room. Shani sat on the edge of the couch, more leaning on it, next to his backpack. He ran over to her.

  “Are you sure we won’t get in trouble?” Shani fidgeted with her beige dress, looking down.

  “No. But if we do, I’ll take all the punishment.” He grabbed his NetMini from the backpack and sent a text to Mom: ‹Bad spirit here. Wants 2 hurt kids. Weak. Bathroom B8.›

  “We’ve got like four hours. What do we do?” She exhaled past a hint of a frown.

  Evan slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Let’s go check out the door. I’m pretty sure it’s gonna be locked, but I might be able to get a vision of the code.”

  “What if it’s a swipe?” Shani fell in step at his left.

  “Can you TK-borrow a NetMini from one of the history teachers?”

  Shani glared at him. “I don’ wanna.”

  “But, we’re saving Abernathy from being stuck here forever. If that was your brain in there, wouldn’t you want someone to help?”

  Shani grabbed the sides of her head. “I don’t want anyone takin’ my brain out. My head doesn’t open.”

  He sighed. “Okay, forget it. Hope it’s a keypad.”

  Acting casual, he led the way to the school section and out the back end through the gymnasium to the Admin section. It would’ve been faster to take the hallway via the dorms to where they connected to the other end of the Admin section, but an hour of staring at maps told him the archives were on the west side, closer to the school. No one would bother kids walking around the school, but in the Admin section, they’d get caught.

  “Oh, my!” said a woman’s voice, high and chirpy.

  “Uh, oh,” mumbled Shani.

  A spritely blonde woman in a standard uniform, sans utility belt, taller than Mom with longer hair and fuller cheeks, ran up to them. “You’re so cute! Why are your eyes lit up?” The woman put her hand on Evan’s shoulder. “Is it okay if I hug you?”

  “Hi, Miss Heath,” said Shani.

  “Uhh, okay.” Evan weathered an enthusiastic embrace, and explained about his astral seeing. “We’re looking for ghosts.”

  “Be careful you two.” Miss Heath patted him on the head, grinning. “Stay safe.”

  The over-energetic woman hurried off.

  Beep. Evan fished out his NetMini.

  ‹Mom: Dorian isn’t going to the moon. He’ll check on it. Are you okay?›

  He typed: ‹Yeah. Ghost is too weak to touch people, but he’s super gross. Went splat. He tried to hit me, but it didn’t hurt.›

  Evan let the device slip out of his hand into the pack. “C’mon.”

  They made their way to the end of the school and snuck past the teacher’s lounge area, from which the voices of several adults murmured. An open archway connected the school to the Admin section library, a too-quiet place full of brown carpet and shelves laden with holodisk cases. Twenty or thirty small tables and chairs littered the area around the shelves, each bedecked with terminals. High-school aged cadets occupied some of the chairs, though none paid any attention to the intrusion by a nine and seven-year-old.

  Evan headed right for an alcove past the seventh shelf on the left, where an old-style push bar door led to a stairway. Three floors down, they emerged in a dusty corridor painted pale hospital green. Aside from five dinner-plate sized disc bots polishing the teal-and-white checkered floor tiles, it looked deserted.

  “It’s scary down here,” whispered Shani.

  “I don’t see any spirits.” Evan held her hand and walked in. “The archives are up ahead on the right side.” He pointed at a slab of glass sticking out of the wall with arrows pointing different directions. One, labeled ‘archive,’ pointed right down an offshoot corridor. “See?”

  “We shouldn’t be here,” whispered Shani.

  “Correct,” said another girl, behind them. “What are you doing down here?”

  Evan froze. Shani clamped her hands over her m
outh to mute a shriek.

  He turned around. The girl behind him looked like a tiny version of an I-Ops detective: her close-fitting black Division 0 uniform would’ve been appropriate for field duty if not for her lack of weapons. Long, black hair hung in a single ponytail behind her; hands the color of caramel perched imperiously on her slender hips. He pegged her for a fifth or sixth grader. The girl’s nametag read Peña.

  “What are you doing down here?” asked Evan.

  Shani made doe-eyes at the older girl.

  “Following you two miscreants.” Cadet Peña’s head bobbed up with an air of superiority. “I saw you go into the stairway. I’m on watch, so I count as an officer right now. You two are kinda little to be up to no good. Are you lost?”

  Evan shook his head. “No. I need to go to the archives to help a trapped spirit.”

  Cadet Peña looked at him like he’d spoken some ancient lost language. “Are you serious or are you pretending?”

  “Yes. His name is Abernathy. He’s the first person ever killed by a mind blast… and they’re keeping his brain in a jar down here. He can’t move on ‘cause of it, so I wanna help him.”

  “If his brain is in the archives, it’s the property of Division 0.” Cadet Peña folded her arms. “You’re planning to steal official property. I’m sorry, but I have to log this and report you.”

  “Are people property?” Evan stared at her. “They haven’t even looked at the brain in like thirty years. It’s been sitting in there forgotten. If you wanna ‘rest me for stealing it, okay, but let me take it to Father Villera first. I’m just trying to help him.”

  Cadet Peña stared at him for a painfully long moment. “You’re not lying to me…”

  “She’s a empath,” said Shani.

  “I dunno.” Cadet Peña’s boots echoed as she tapped her foot. “You should just submit a request for funerary processing.”

  “What?” asked Evan.

  “That means ask if they’ll dispose of the brain properly.” Cadet Peña shook her head. “You don’t know what a funeral is?”

  Evan gestured down the hall. “What if they say no? They don’t think of him as a person, and they don’t believe in spirits. They don’t need his brain anymore. Come on, please? You can’t let them treat a person like that. What’s more important to you? Doing what’s right or following the rules?”