Guardian

by Matthew S. Cox

  Adrenaline’s a bitch.

  Nila had taken seven, Morelli three, but all in his right arm. Forrester managed to evade the laser fire from the bots, walking away with only a couple of bruises from the four-armed machine gunner; the small caliber rounds hadn’t penetrated his armor. Any of a hundred tiny things happening differently could’ve killed any of them. Of course the senator would’ve had proxies do his dirty work for him. Men like that don’t leave trails. Stupid people don’t make it to the senate in the first place.

  No, stupid was reserved for idealists.

  She frowned at the boots and fresh uniform waiting on the end of the bed, next to her armband computer.

  The door opened with a soft pneumatic hiss. A dark-skinned medtech with hot pink hair approached, bearing a cup of honey-lemon tea. “Is something wrong, Lieutenant? You’ve been sitting there for an hour.”

  Kirsten sat up straight and accepted the tea. “I almost got people killed and the whole thing was a waste of time.” She stared for a few seconds at bands of glare from overhead lights undulating across the dark brown surface. “I guess Division 5’s protocol of walking in shooting really is better sometimes.”

  “There’s a Captain Eze looking for you. I bought you a couple minutes saying you’re going through some last tests to make sure you suffered no complications re-inflating your lung.”

  “Thanks.” She sipped the tea; lemon-honey-warm slid down her throat. People mess up. Deal with it. They sent me out there at sixteen; I’m surprised it took me this long to pull off a major error. “Suppose I should clean up then.”

  “Do you need any assistance?”

  Kirsten stretched her legs, admiring a tiny pink spot where the laser hit her. Dried breathable gel had formed a second-skin layer that wrinkled and peeled away as she moved. “Pain’s stopped, but I still feel like an idiot. Suppose I shouldn’t make him wait.”

  The medtech nodded. “If you do require assistance, just tap the call button.”

  “‘Kay. Thanks for the tea.” Kirsten set the mug on the table near the bed and crossed the room to the autoshower.

  “You’re welcome. I know you like it.” The medtech let herself out.

  Kirsten walked straight to Captain Eze’s office upon returning to the squad room. Dorian materialized in his usual seat and jumped up to follow her in. She knocked at the doorjamb. Captain Eze looked up with a neutral expression and waved her in before going back to whatever he’d been reading on his terminal screen.

  She entered with her head bowed and hands clasped in front of her. Lieutenant Wren should’ve known better. Agent Wren wasn’t really an officer… Agent Wren was a child given a pay grade; no one expected much from the teenagers assigned to Investigative Operations based on rare abilities or unusual power. As a lieutenant, she was supposed to be trusted… and she’d blown it the first time out.

  Captain Eze looked up a little over a minute later after tapping the terminal in such a way as to make her think he’d fired off an annoyed email. “You’re still standing and you look like you’re expecting a beheading.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I should’ve known Senator Winchester wouldn’t have dealt directly with Mardrake. It was dumb, and I rushed in there before thinking.”

  He pondered, fingers steepled in front of his face. “Well… I suppose I should shoulder some portion of that, since I mentioned Division 5 was on the way. Going after a sitting senator is a project unto itself, something best left to Division 9. It takes them months, years sometimes, to gather enough information to act.”

  “Have they investigated senators before?” Kirsten lowered herself into one of the chairs facing his desk. Still unable to look him in the eye, she stared at the collection of four-inch African tribal masks along the edge.

  “A few times, but they’ve only acted once.”

  Dorian made a quiet gunshot noise.

  He leaned back, hands on the desk, and exhaled. “There’s an audit coming down the pipe. Procedures, personnel, policies. I’m sure it’s Winchester sending us a warning.”

  She picked at her nails. “He arranged for Charles to die so they could steal his lungs. Seraphina Winchester tried to commit suicide with heavy Icewhisper abuse. The senator can afford the best care. He could’ve taken her to Amaranth Medical… even Ancora if he wanted to spend a little less. There was no need to have the man killed. I’m not sure how Charles will react if I tell him Winchester’s out of reach. He hasn’t done anything worthy of obliterating him. I don’t want him to kill people who received his organs.”

  “If a person threatens the life of another, and you believe they are about to do so, you are perfectly justified in using whatever force necessary to safeguard life.” Captain Eze looked around. “Is Dorian here? I’m sure he’ll say the same.”

  “He’s right, K. If you think Prentice represents an imminent threat to an innocent life, you’re obligated to stop him.”

  A wave of resolve lifted her spirits, and her chin. She looked Eze in the eye. “What if he’s only venting off steam in a rage? I’d have to be there at the moment he’s trying to harm someone. I can’t stay with them constantly, wondering if he’ll show up to kill someone.”

  “It seems likely the two men Division 1 has in custody will face charges in connection with his murder. Senator Winchester is, as you put it, out of reach for now. You don’t even have enough evidence to justify looking for more evidence.” Captain Eze laced his fingers together, hands against his gut. “At least, nothing anyone outside of Division 0 would be open to hearing.”

  Dorian shook his head. “He’s initiated an audit as a warning. The Captain’s right, K. I think you’re better off letting this one go. Pick your battles and all that. Forget the senator and focus on convincing Prentice you got the men who killed him. Maybe he’ll see reason.”

  “But…” She leaned up in her seat, wide-eyed at Dorian. “Walk away? I can’t―”

  “Kirsten…” Eze’s tone sounded less like Captain and more like big brother. “You’re treading into thick mud. The kind of thick mud you don’t have the temperament to get involved with. Crossing horns with people at that level requires lowering yourself into a pit of corruption.”

  “Not every senator’s corrupt.” She looked back and forth between Dorian and Captain Eze. “They can’t be.”

  “The honest ones never get past district governors.” Dorian chuckled. “They might be honest when they get to the Moon, but ideals never last long once they settle in. It’s like dropping an ice cube in boiling soup and expecting it to stay frozen.”

  “But…” She clenched her hands into fists.

  “Wren, your raid on Mardrake was hasty, but all things considered, probably went about as well as could be expected. I’m not advising any disciplinary action. The whole team, even Morelli, said you handled yourself like an officer out there.”

  She bowed her head. “Thank you, sir. I won’t rush in like that again.”

  “Sometimes rushing in is the only way to get something done.” Captain Eze’s smile stood out stark white against the deep brown of his face. “You’ll have to trust yourself.”

  Kirsten exhaled out her nose.

  “Now, in regards to this audit… You’ve got about eighteen Inquest reports that need some cleaning up. Perhaps you should reconsider your habit of working on them at two in the morning.”

  “I’ll hop on that right away.” Again, she found herself staring downcast. Despite his words, the meeting had the mood of a scolding. Perhaps the others’ praise had kept it to an off-the-record warning, or maybe Eze felt he should’ve told her to stand down before they went in.

  “That look in your eye.” Dorian tilted his head closer to her face. “I see it. You’re not planning to give up. If you push, the fallout is going to land on more than just you. He’ll come down on all of Division 0. He’ll make life as miserable as possible for as many of us as possible until you back off.”

  “That’s such bullshit!” Kirsten whirled to
face Dorian. “So a senator can do whatever the heck he wants and get away with it? What’s to stop him from killing random people next? Or… or…”

  “Turning the tide of public opinion against psionics,” said Dorian. “You’ve read how it is in the United Kingdom. Mandatory government registration and implanted cerebral detonators.”

  “… what about Division 9?” She looked around as if some answer might be sitting on one of the shelves. “And that detonator thing stopped like a few years ago.”

  “Detonator thing?” asked Captain Eze.

  Kirsten rubbed her brow. “Dorian mentioned the UK.”

  “Oh. Yes. That policy was suspended. Something about an attempt on the life of one of their Parliament people five years ago.”

  “I… don’t know. Can’t Division 9 take this over then? Are they afraid of the senator too?”

  Captain Eze’s eyebrows drooped. “They’ll need more than you have to ‘remove’ a senator from office. You know Nine doesn’t arrest people. I know it’s infuriating, and I’m frustrated right there with you, but… how many people are you willing to hurt to make a point.”

  She cringed.

  Captain Eze held up a hand. “I wasn’t referring to the raid. There are a shade under four thousand people affiliated in one capacity or another with Division 0, and every one of them could potentially suffer the consequences of an angry senator.”

  Kirsten fumed. “That’s so… wrong.”

  “That’s politics.” Dorian grumbled. “Those who write the rules, by definition, can’t cheat.”

  “It’s not ‘making a point.’ He killed a man.” Kirsten glared at him for an instant before directing her fury at the wall. “Uhh, sir.”

  “Kirsten, they want me to order you to back off on the senator.”

  She deflated.

  “I won’t… yet.” Captain Eze held up one finger. “But… I’m asking you not to cause trouble until and unless you find enough tangible, non-paranormal evidence to survive an Inquest at the highest levels. Officially, Senator Preston Winchester is no longer considered to have any involvement with the murder of Mr. Prentice. As far as Command is concerned, you are not investigating him.”

  She stared at her boots. “Yes, sir.”

  “Please, Kirsten.” Dorian put a hand on her shoulder. “One ghost isn’t worth losing Evan. It isn’t worth who knows how much damage he’ll do to us all.”

  Bastard. Her hands shook from anger, her stomach churned. He can’t win… that’s just not right.

  “I won’t tell you not to collect evidence in secret, but if the senator complains, they will ask why you disobeyed a direct order… that I haven’t given yet. If you’re sloppy, you’ll take us both down.”

  “I understand, sir.” She lifted her head and made eye contact. Guilt worked better than any order could have. “It’s disheartening to hear Command takes his word over ours, but I won’t do anything to get you in trouble. You’ve always been there for me.”

  “Oh, I’m sure Command believes you. But when you’re armed with a table knife and the other guy’s holding an E-90, the man with the E-90’s right.”

  Kirsten nodded.

  “Well, if you’ve got nothing else…”

  “No, sir.”

  Captain Eze gave her an apologetic look. “Dismissed.”

  “Sir.” She saluted him and walked out.

  Once out of eyesight of the captain, her walk became a trudge until she fell into the chair at her desk. Simultaneous wanting to kick something, burst into tears, scream her throat hoarse, and kill someone crashed together and left her staring mute into space with a non-expression.

  Nicole swiveled around in her chair to Kirsten’s left. “That went well.”

  Kirsten stared at her hands, limp in her lap. “Yeah. Got slapped on the knuckles.”

  “That wasn’t your fault. I thought you did great out there.”

  “Not about the raid. I’m not allowed to go after the senator.” Kirsten glanced at her. “Not unless I―”

  “Wanna come over tonight and marathon Galaxy Chronicles?”

  “―have enough evidence to―”

  “We haven’t stayed up all night watching that since we were fifteen.” Nicole beamed.

  “―convince all the brass he’s guilty. I’ve got a―”

  “Better idea. Weekend!” Nicole giggled. “We can sit around all day in our underwear and drink.”

  “―son to look after. Galaxy Chronicles will bore him to death.” Kirsten sighed.

  “But it’s got spaceships and aliens!” Nicole flailed.

  Kirsten laughed. “It’s about romance triangles and who’s scheming against who in the Terran Council. In two hundred and fourteen episodes―”

  “I need coffee. Mocha or strawberry? Wanna Jalapeño Om?”

  “―they get into two space battles. And we are not lazing around in our undies with Evan in the apartment.” Kirsten massaged the bridge of her nose. “Sure. Mocha.”

  Nicole whirled to face her desk and grabbed her NetMini.

  The rest of the day promised only the ‘tantalizing exhilaration’ of editing old reports. Busy work. Kirsten leaned back in her chair and covered her face. Had that been Eze’s call or was this a ‘sit down and behave yourself’ from higher up? Charles Prentice would probably wait a little longer before getting restless. Waiting would give the Division 1 case time to percolate against the two remaining men who did the actual killing. I hope it’s enough. “It’s gonna have to be.”

  “Hmm?” asked Nicole.

  “Nothing, just whining to myself.” Kirsten swatted at her terminal to open the Inquest database. Eighteen of her old case records had amber gems glowing from the left side of the dim green row, flagged by Captain Eze for additional attention. “Ugh. I hate reports.”

  irsten leaned against the doorjamb of Evan’s bedroom, arms folded, watching him sleep. After hours of tedium spent reading and filling in small details of old reports, the Monwyn game had proved to be wonderful stress relief. They’d finally taken down the ogre boss, and she’d come out ten thousand and change damage points ahead of Evan on the end-of-battle report. She’d braced for him to freak, but wasn’t prepared for the awestruck look he’d given her.

  “My mom’s a Monwyn badass” would echo in her brain for years, and bring a smile every time.

  Grinning, she crept in to kiss him on the forehead. He looked angelic, and she couldn’t help but hover for another few minutes. Back off the senator or he’ll get taken away. She closed her eyes and let off a silent sigh before walking out. I can play along, Captain. Winchester won’t see it coming until I can nail him to the wall. She walked to her bedroom and glanced at the nightstand. Though it had no bottle of SynVod in it, the day she’d had made her want some in a bad way. She gnawed on her finger while pacing. Am I an alcoholic already? The first two years on the job had been rough. Some of those spirits were not meant for the eyes of a sixteen-year-old. Somehow, she’d wound up reaching for a bottle… the same way Mother had when she couldn’t cope with her Devil-sent daughter.

  Kirsten pondered ordering a small one, not enough to get drunk but enough to maybe find sleep without staring at the ceiling for hours. Evan… The look he’d given her when he saw the bottle in her hand… She flopped on the Comforgel pad, back against the wall with her NetMini in her hand. For some time, she stared at the blank, black screen and the weak reflection it cast of her face. She smoothed her oversized pink nightshirt over her thighs, frowning at her lack of hips. The designers had created the Monwyn character Princess Asara as an exaggerated depiction of a super-thin female, a high-elf… but aside from Kirsten actually having breasts, their shapes weren’t too different.

  The warmth of blush in her cheeks, she swiped down her contacts list and called Sam.

  His holographic bust appeared a few rings later, in a blue tee shirt with dual white stripes along the arms. A Division 2 tech logo adorned the area where breast pocket would’ve been. “Hey.”
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  “Hey yourself.” She bit her lip.

  “It’s nice to see you.” He smiled. “You look beautiful, if not a little sad.”

  “Rough case. I wanted something too bad and rushed in. We got shot up pretty good, but no one died.” She rubbed her neck to massage a lump out of her throat. “I thought Nila got killed, but…”

  “Sorry.” His gaze flicked from eye contact to his lap and back. “Want me to come over?”

  She looked down. I dunno. Evan’s here; we both have to be in early. “If you had like a two percent chance of finding concrete evidence of something, but attempting to get it and failing would cause a lot of people to get hurt, including people you care about… would it be wrong to let a murderer get away with it?”

  Sam’s eyebrows crawled together. “Well… that whole ‘needs of the many’ thing. How many people died? How many could be hurt? If the murderer gets away with it, will he kill again?”

  Guilt refused to go away. “One dead. I don’t think they’d kill again since it wasn’t a random act, but… we swore to uphold the law. Besides, it’s wrong. If we give in to powerful people only because they’re powerful… they win.”

  Sam clasped his hands together in the posture of a Shaolin monk. “A wise warrior strikes at the moment of greatest success.” He dropped his arms out of frame. “I’d say never stop looking, but don’t do anything stupid. Everyone’s bound to mess up sooner or later, no matter who they are. When they do, you’ll be there.”

  Kirsten traced a finger back and forth over the empty queen-sized Comforgel pad at her side. Whenever she looked at Sam, the urge to hold him reared its head. Also, revulsion at the memory of what Konstantin did to her. Maybe she didn’t need SynVod to cope with her day after all. “So what does Samuel Chang do when he’s not at the RTC?”