Guardian

by Matthew S. Cox

  “Covering fire,” yelled the driver. “Go!”

  Forrester jumped out from behind the retractable flange, sprinted to the front of the building, and aimed in the broken window. He pivoted and fired a short laser pulse at a downward angle.

  Kirsten ran up to the other side of the door, followed a second later by Nila. They both aimed at the cyborg, who’d ceased screaming and had fallen into a tic-like twitching fit accompanied by nguh sounds every few seconds.

  “I don’t think he’s going to be getting back up,” said Dorian. “You turned his brain into OmniSoy.”

  Kirsten frowned. His surface-thought reaction to her warning was a panicky ‘shit, psionic, kill it’ desire of wanting all four missiles to fire at her. She wouldn’t let herself feel guilty about it. A ping overhead made her duck as a bullet ricocheted out into the city. Nila put a laser pulse into a metal shoulder, but the aug ducked before she could take a fatal follow-up shot.

  “Dammit.” Nila growled and stared.

  Four seconds later, the mountain of trash by where the augs hid burst into a burning conflagration. When two of the men jumped up to flee, Nila and Forrester mowed them down in a barrage of bright violet laser streaks. Kirsten aimed, but decided not to fire as their ghosts already seeped away from their remains.

  Kirsten jumped in the window, letting some psionic energy leak into the armor. Matte grey trim glowed purple as the armor’s bizarre electronics somehow converted mental energy into a force field. No one ever talked about how that worked or where they got the technology from. Rumors abounded, most of which pointed at devices discovered on Mars. Fewer people believed in aliens than ghosts. Demons are real… why not aliens? She took an abbreviated breath of air reeking of carrion and chemicals.

  Kirsten aimed at a moving shadow. “Drop it!”

  A stocky man with coffee-colored skin and long, shaggy hair stood with his hands raised, assault rifle dangling on a strap from his left elbow. His surface thoughts contained an image of Kirsten’s helmet superimposed over a targeting crosshair, and the inclination to fire the laser weapon installed in his cybernetic right eye.

  “Stop.” Kirsten’s suggestion hit him hard enough to make him drool. “Come outside. Surrender.”

  The man shuffled like a zombie toward the front door.

  She pulled the rifle away from his arm as he went past her, and tossed it to the side. “One exiting, compelled. Watch him; he’s got a laser embedded in his eye.”

  Cortez tackled the guy as soon as he left the building, putting him in binders and plugging a Medusa into his M3 port before the compulsion wore off. “Secure.” He dragged the suspect out of sight behind the A3HV.

  Nicole and Morelli rushed in, taking up cover behind a shelf on the right. Trash shifted, and a man with four arms, two made of flesh and an extra pair of metal limbs sprouting from his shoulder blades, popped up holding four submachine guns. A hail of bullets peppered Kirsten, Morelli, and Nicole. Kirsten screamed, but more from fear. With the Psi Armor charged, the attack hit her with a force like a disorienting barrage of fists from an ancient warrior monk.

  Nicole and Morelli shouted and hit the ground. Uncharged Psi Armor had weak spots, and from the sound of the screams, bullets had found them.

  Kirsten slumped back into the shelves, gasping for air. Dorian ran at the four-armed gunman, drawing the power from his weapons’ firing circuits as well as the mechanical limbs.

  “Son of a bitch!” screamed Nicole. She picked herself up a second before the Nano greatsword levitated. The six-foot weapon whirled like a thrown dagger sailing across the room. It seemed to pass the man without effect; a second later, blood exploded in a sheet out of a hair-thin line that ran from the top of his head down through his left eye to his groin. Two pieces of body with glass-smooth edges slid apart and fell.

  “Nikki!” yelled Kirsten. She ran across the aisle, taking two rounds in the left side when she broke cover. Based on the tremendous boom of the shot, plus finding herself lying on the ground, she guessed Class 6 pistol and at least a cracked rib. Her voice went from scream to croaky rasp. “You okay?”

  “Two hits. Stimsuit’s got it.” Nicole growled while pivoting to fire at the man who’d shot Kirsten.

  More laser streaks, as well as a stream of orange tracer bullets passed over her.

  The driver reached the front door and looked at the cyborg. After two seconds of watching the man-machine twitch and emit nrk sounds, he fired a long burst into the metal skull, denting it and sending a scattering of tiny parts dancing across the floor. The ‘borg kept twitching and making sub-vocal noises. “Damn. That ain’t right.”

  Metallic clunking came from the rear hallway, filling her mind with visions of another huge cyborg. Kirsten crawled back to her knees before standing, and pointed her rifle down a dingy corridor lined with thick, ribbed hoses and electrical cables. Morelli and Nila hit the shelf on either side of her, also aiming toward the approaching monster.

  Nicole busied herself cursing and further mauling the four-armed man’s corpse with the floating Nano sword.

  A pair of robotic walkers, spindly and covered with exposed actuators and wires, emerged from the darkness, each holding a large assault rifle. The tactical computer in her armor provided helpful HUD tags, indicating Class 6 assault rifles chambered in 12.5mm, a weapon capable of punching holes in Psi Armor with ease if she didn’t charge the field.

  Doctor Mardrake walked behind them, wearing a surprisingly clean powder-blue jumpsuit and white lab coat. A surgical mask hung loose below his chin, exposing an irritated sneer. He brandished a two-pack over-the-shoulder missile launcher. “I’m not unreasonable.” Seven fourteen-inch diameter orb bots dropped into view out front. Iris doors on their front faces opened, revealing solid glass transparent barrels―laser weapons. “I understand you are police and suffer from a unique brand of idiocy borne of a perceived sense of power you do not possess here. For this, I shall forgive you the deaths of these fools, and not demand one of your number as spare parts.”

  “He’s worried,” said Dorian. “Bluffing.”

  “Mardrake,” yelled Kirsten. “I’m willing to offer you a deal in exchange for testimony against Winchester?”

  “Who?” asked Mardrake.

  Forrester crawled over to one of the inert tracked bots and put his hand on it while using its mass as cover.

  Shit, those cyborgs don’t have thoughts. She whispered, “Dorian… those ‘borgs don’t have brains. All yours.”

  He nodded. “Technically, they’re ‘bots, not ‘borgs. No biological tissue.”

  She scowled and shouted, “The person who hired you to kill Charles Prentice?”

  Mardrake’s expression looked pained. “Who? Why would I remember the name of a meat sack?”

  Kirsten grumbled. “The lungs that Senator Preston Winchester hired you to find?”

  “Oh, dear girl…” Mardrake laughed.

  “He’s thinking proxies,” said Nicole. “He never knew a senator was involved. Holy shit, a senator’s involved?”

  Mardrake’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Now he’s thinking, ‘oh shit, psionics’.” Nicole giggled for an instant before she looked worried. “And now ‘eek, psionics, die!’ He’s triggering the orbs!”

  Nila dropped in place, spinning to put her back to the shelf and aim at the floating spheres. Morelli did likewise. Dorian seemed torn between the orbs and the two androids.

  Mardrake raised the missile tube at Kirsten.

  Nicole let off a war cry.

  All at once, Mardrake’s weapon reoriented downward, releasing a missile at the ground between his shoes. Nila and Morelli opened fire on the orbs, the orbs shot back, both androids took aim, and the minigun on the tracked bot Forrester touched sprang to life, spewing bullets at the orbs.

  An explosion flooded the interior hallway with smoke, metal fragments, and gore; two mangled androids lurched forward, falling as their massive assault rifles chugged at a laborious rate of fi
re into the floor and walls.

  Kirsten whirled around, ducking behind a shelf away from the onrush of exploding debris while firing her laser rifle at the orbs. Sparks sprayed from one then the next as Forrester’s minigun tracked and spat bursts with the accuracy of a computer. Three spears of burning agony ripped into her, one in the left bicep, one an inch below her left breast, and one about a hand’s width above her left knee. She staggered to the right, her left arm more of a brace to lean the rifle against than a useful limb, and kept firing at orbs until she fell on her side. Though she fed mental energy to her armor, the lasers from the orbs didn’t seem to care.

  Heavy thuds outside signaled the driver opening up again with the huge machinegun. One orb bot after the next burst into clouds of metal shrapnel and the flashes of dying ion thrusters.

  The stimsuit went off, pumping her bloodstream full of synthetic adrenaline and nanobots. Within a second, she felt wired and pain free. The chemicals made time seem to slow around her, and all sound hit her ears as though she’d slipped underwater. Individual bullets streamed from the minigun like a solid rope of lead cutting apart one orb after the next. When it ran dry, Forrester leapt and crawled to the other tracked bot.

  Fragments of Doctor Mardrake sailed overhead, the most recognizable piece a hand on the pistol grip formerly attached to a missile launcher. Heavy cannon fire continued outside, and the last two orbs disintegrated like clay pigeons. More shots came from deeper within the building, followed seconds later by a billowy cloud of dust.

  Silence.

  Kirsten took three breaths before she dragged herself out of the open aisle running along the center of the old Nippy Nom and leaned against the twisted ruin of a display shelf. Men laughed outside amid the clap of a handshake. Figures in bright blue Division 5 armor approached the front of the store, most carrying ABR20 rifles―weapons that resembled antiquated pump-action shotguns, but far larger.

  A man with silver sergeant’s stripes on his shoulders walked in, glanced around at everyone, and headed over to Kirsten.

  “Lieutenant.” He eyed the man cut in six pieces by a giant sword, the twitching, babbling cyborg, and finally at the corridor painted with Mardrake. He whistled. “I thought you raced us here to be subtle.”

  Kirsten stared past the fog on her visor, not quite sure why she no longer had red hot needles piercing her body. It didn’t seem likely the stimsuit shots could completely fix three laser hits, but she didn’t feel a damn thing. Nicole kept muttering curses, a sure sign she’d been shot again. Morelli huffed and whined, cradling his right arm. Nila lay motionless, her chestplate slick with blood. “Nila! Nila!” She struggled to get up, but neither her left arm nor leg obeyed.

  She’d made Shani an orphan.

  Kirsten slumped forward, sobbing in silence.

  “Aw, shit.” Nicole grunted in pain and dragged herself over to Nila.

  Morelli stared at the floor.

  The idea of having to look Shani in the eye and tell her that her mother died for nothing drained any willpower to move. “I’m sorry, Nila. This is―”

  “I’m good,” said Nila over the comm. “At least I will be after a dip in the tank. Shit this hurts.”

  “You looked dead!” Kirsten leaned forward as she screamed, more anger than she intended in her voice. The breath she sucked in afterward chattered, her tears not quite done.

  Nila groaned. “Don’t kill me, but I was praying. I know you hate that.”

  Morelli limped over and offered Kirsten a hand up. A scrap of light brown matter clung to the left pectoral region of his armor.

  “Something on your chest.” Kirsten let off a fluttering whimper when she tried to put weight on her left leg, and almost blacked out from a sudden, blinding pain.

  “I believe that’s a piece of Mardrake,” said Dorian.

  Kirsten gagged. Morelli flicked the scrap of skin away.

  Mardrake’s hollow voice emanated from the left, asking no one in particular what had happened. Dorian pounced on the ghost of the former ripper doc, and dragged him over to Kirsten.

  “Any more questions for the suspect?” Dorian cocked an eyebrow.

  She grumbled. “Ops, need a MedVan.”

  Dorian blinked. “I think he’s a bit beyond that.”

  She frowned at him.

  The operations dispatcher replied with a long “ummmm.”

  “They’re not coming here,” said the driver. “Black zone remember? Can you walk, Officer Assad?”

  “Fuck no.” Nila groaned. “Feels like my hip’s in three pieces and my right lung’s half full of blood.”

  “I got her.” Nicole wobbled upright and levitated Nila, keeping her as flat as possible.

  Darkness settled over the area. Kirsten sensed it first; about four seconds later, Dorian glanced at the north wall.

  Nicole looked around, pausing in her effort to carry Nila out. “Uhh, anyone else feel that?”

  “Yeah.” Morelli looked at Kirsten as though she were about to sacrifice them all to the Devil. “What are you doing?”

  Billowy black vapor melted out of the plain wall, accompanied by thin trails of ichor running to the floor. The eight-foot tall apparition of a Harbinger exuded forth, head tilted back and arms wide. Its body tapered to a wispy point at the bottom rather than legs, and glinting onyx talons glinted from its outstretched hands. Sparkling silver flecks of eyes amid the impenetrable void approximating its head regarded Mardrake with cool detachment.

  “Oooh,” muttered Nicole. “I think one of her shadow fluffies is here.”

  Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Shadow fluffies?”

  “Me? What am I doing?” asked Kirsten. “Nothing except feeling like shit for getting everyone hurt. We’re not the worst thing to happen to Mardrake today. Oh, Doctor, your ride’s here.” Wow, he must be dark… I didn’t even beckon them.

  Dorian faced the approaching Harbinger, standing his ground with a resolute expression while containing the flailing Mardrake in a headlock. When the Harbinger stopped at arm’s distance away, he flung the ghostly ripper doc into its waiting embrace.

  “What’s going on? Psionic freaks! What are you doing to my mind?” Mardrake’s ghost wailed, frothing at the mouth as a shadowy hand covered his face.

  The vaporous specter engulfed the screaming Mardrake, and sank into the floor. Astral screams faded to silence a few seconds later.

  Boom.

  One of the Division 5 men stood over the cyborg out front, white smoke peeling from the barrel of his gargantuan rifle. Nothing remained of the ‘borg’s head but a sparking stump of neck and a burning hole in the ground. “Sorry, that nygh, nygh, nygh shit was getting annoying.”

  A ghostly brain zipped around in a panic before racing out through the back wall, trailed by about two feet of spinal nerve.

  Kirsten closed her eyes. “Ugh. Now that is going to haunt my dreams for a while.”

  Nila gasped over the comm. “Thanks, Nikki.”

  “Got her loaded,” said Nicole. “Can we get out of here now?”

  “Yeah.” Kirsten flailed at the air and clung to a shelf to keep from falling over when she tried to walk. She winced as a searing rod of agony flared in the laser wound, all her weight on her fingertips. “Damn. My leg’s all torn up. I… don’t think I can walk.”

  A Division 5 man hurried over and picked her up like a child. “Gotcha, Ell-Tee.” He carried her outside and up the ramp of the A3HV. Once inside, he eased her onto the bench seat before securing her harness and planting her laser rifle next to her. Kirsten clamped her mouth shut, crying from the pain, but refusing to scream.

  “Not calling in a crime scene team?” Dorian phased out of the wall at her right.

  “Don’t rub it in,” she muttered, off comms. “Okay, everyone. Let’s go home. Five, would you guys mind grabbing that Nano sword before some crazy fringer finds it? If there’s a terminal back there somewhere, bring that too please?”

  “Got it,” said a female voice. “Holy sh
it… someone really objected to this man’s existence. Looks like someone ran him through a food processor.”

  “He shot me,” said Nicole, in the voice of an annoyed child.

  The ramp whirred closed. Kirsten couldn’t reach Nila to hold her hand and lacked the energy or the willpower to undo her harness.

  Sorry, Nila. I’m so, so sorry.

  Nila held a thumbs-up, and let her arm drop limp.

  Kirsten closed her eyes. “Ops, this is Lieutenant Wren. We’re coming back with multiple wounded. Please have medical standing by.”

  “Copy Lieutenant,” said a male voice.

  Her head rolled back against the armor plating, leaving her staring at the digital windows on the far wall above where Nila lay. Passing buildings blurred as the A3HV picked up speed and altitude; muzzle flare flickered in the darkened spaces within crumbling buildings. One or two clanks sounded on the hull. Soon, the condition of buildings improved and the natives stopped firing at them. The adrenaline from the stim shot wore off, leaving her short of breath and acutely aware of the laser that hit her under the left breast. Ragged breaths took on a metallic flavor.

  I fucked up. The continuous grunts and groans of her wounded friends made her cry. That was too close. That wasn’t Division 0’s job. That was stupid.

  Nicole gave her shoulder a telekinetic squeeze. Hey. You didn’t know he had a missile.

  She jostled in the harness as the A3HV climbed higher. Pain and exhaustion left her trembling. Yeah, I guess, but I should’ve known better than to think Winchester dealt with him directly. I’m such an idiot.

  Nicole lifted her faceplate and stuck her tongue out. Maybe, but you’re a righteous idiot.

  I’m hoping you didn’t mean that like it sounded. Kirsten furrowed her eyebrows for a second before smiling; she would’ve laughed if not for tasting her own blood.

  irsten sat on the edge of the Comforgel pad in the treatment room, not having bothered to dress or even wipe the powdery white residue of dried gel off. Elbows on her knees, she cradled her head in her hands and stared at the floor. Her mind swam with frozen instants of a decaying Nippy Nom lit in reds, greens, and blue-violet smears of laser. She’d been hit five times, but hadn’t noticed the grazing burn on her hip or the hole two millimeters under her left collarbone.