Hand of Raziel (Daughter of Mars Book 1)

by Matthew S. Cox

  “It’s nice. Strictly tank-grown food, no OmniSoy. They’ve got lobster from the moon.”

  “Let me guess, ‘it’s out of this world.’” She rolled her eyes.

  Shiro blinked at her and sighed, shaking his head.

  Risa withdrew her hand. She slid her fingers over the gun and pulled a pair of violet wafers from the purse. Each resembled the sole of a shoe, a quarter-inch thick with a narrow strap at one end. Electronic surveillance people? Where did that come from? He either bought it or knows I’m an idiot. She dropped them on the carpet, stuck her toes in the straps, and stood.

  As soon as her weight pressed down, her NetMini lit up at the same moment the stylized word ‘Mems’ appeared in midair. A small pie shape rotated below it, labeled ‘syncing.’ She opted to link them to her implanted comm. The logo shrank into a small vertical line in the lower-left corner of her vision above the clock. An indicator slid upward a quarter of the way, nudged by mental command. The Mems changed shape, stretching into one-inch heels.

  “Interesting,” said Shiro. “Do they know any other tricks?”

  She laughed, nervousness sliding into giddiness. “No, just how tall they get. I don’t expect that Starlight place would care for my boo―”

  He crossed from the bathroom door to the wardrobe, wearing the smallest pair of black underwear Risa had ever seen on a man. She stood like a statue, staring at his glistening, newly showered Earth-dweller skin. He wasn’t as dark as people could get, not even halfway along the scale, but up here where so many people had bone-white skin, she found herself unable to look away. Osebi had caused a similar effect the first time she’d met him, but that had been pure curiosity at never having seen a human being such a dark shade of brown. Here, with Shiro, a definite undertone of something else nipped at her. Lust? No. Wariness? Yes. I feel like a fly dancing on a spider’s web.

  Shiro dressed once more all in white. Risa watched every motion. A part of her played with desire like a cat with a puffball, but the more she gazed at him, the more the whole situation struck her as wrong. Was he talking about the kids being happy on a colony, or me? She bit her lip. A life away from war?

  He tugged his suit jacket in place and slapped one hand on a gem at the lapel. The garment changed shape in a series of minute adjustments. He lifted his sheathed katana with one hand and tossed it in a shallow arc to his left hand, spun it over, and clipped it to his belt.

  “Shall we?” He asked, offering an elbow.

  She took his arm and followed him back along the corridor to the elevator. When he pushed the button for the roof, she tensed. He’s got a hovercar. A minute or two later, the doors opened, allowing a stiff breeze to gust through. The skirt of her dress flapped up with enough pressure for the micro-hooks adhering the fabric to her stomach to hurt as they pulled.

  “Aaah!” She yelped, and flattened her skirt down.

  Shiro pursed his lips. “I see you made an exception to your wardrobe policy.”

  She blushed. “Yeah, well. I’m not wearing my armor now.” No way am I wearing a dress without something on under it.

  Her teeth chattered by the time they reached a white Timmons-Orben Excelsior II. For the first time in her life, Risa looked around wanting to find an advert bot. It didn’t take long to catch one’s attention and it zoomed straight at her, bumping two others out of the way to get there first.

  “C-coat,” she said, when the spherical bot stopped nearby. “I need a coat.”

  It presented ten screens worth of coats. She picked a coat that while warm, looked fancy enough not to get her thrown out of a room full of rich bastards. Six hundred and ten credits for a piece of clothing seemed ridiculous, but the only thing she’d ever purchased with her stipend from the Front for the past six years had been noodle soup.

  The orb did a happy dance, shimmying side to side after it processed her order. It crept at a hesitant glide toward Shiro, who shook his head. After a dejected sulk, the robot zipped away off the side of the roof. Two minutes and fourteen seconds later, a footlocker-sized hover bot arrived with her order. Risa wasted no time putting on her new coat.

  Shiro opened the door for her, revealing a pale grey leather interior awash with the scent of sandalwood incense. She sat, feeling strange and a touch amused by a man closing the door for her. No one’s that nice unless they want something.

  He rounded the nose of the car with a brisk stride, and got in. Shamisen music faded into the background as he brought the car online and lifted off. Risa forgot about Shiro when the windscreen filled with the view of Arcadia City. A heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach at the sense of having nothing below her but air. The metropolis under this dome defied Mars by existing. The few holo-vids set on Earth she’d watched as a tween looked so similar to the sprawl below, it made her wonder if they’d teleported across the solar system.

  He nudged the car into a gradual dive and joined a sparse stream of hovercars. Faint yellow lines projected on the windscreen defined the hover lane. Three spots of color up ahead, a trio of hovercars too far away to discern make or model, disappeared around a high rise. Another car came up behind them, evidently irritated at Shiro’s conservative pace.

  “It’s a lot different from Earth,” said Shiro. “Even in the air, the traffic is so thick that driving is more frightening than fun. Someone sneezes and you could have a sixty car collision.”

  “Idiotic.” She blinked at him.

  He laughed. “I’m teasing. Collision avoidance would probably stop the crash, but it really is bumper to bumper. So many people. This is like being out in the weeds. It’s nice, in a rustic sort of way.”

  The car behind them pulled high and shot overhead, passing them in seconds. Shiro’s car shuddered in the ionic downblast for a second.

  “You think we’re simple?” She smirked.

  “Not simple.” He winked. “I wish Earth was more like this. Fewer people, more relaxed. Cleaner.”

  “You haven’t seen much of Mars.” She frowned at a passing onyx tower, a thin, twisted, needle-like structure bearing the logo of Intera Corporation. “Visit Secundus sometime. Nothing but gangs, prostitutes, and people too poor to be worth stealing from.”

  He sighed. “It will improve if this war ever ends.”

  She snuggled her face into the faux-fur collar of the coat. “It will end.”

  “It can end faster, you know.” He steered left and descended.

  The scenery of the city passing around them proved more interesting than the conversation. A moment later, she startled at the thump of the car touching down, though did not feel much in the way of an impact.

  “We’re here.” Shiro smiled.

  “Yeah, I got that.” She smirked.

  They exited the car at the same moment into a twentieth-story wind that seemed less cold than the gale at the top of his apartment building. At the center of the round roof parking area, a gleaming cobalt blue and silver arch shifted color in the glow of holographic fountains. He offered his arm again, and she walked with him to a clear egg-shaped elevator that slid down the wall of an open atrium that spanned the full height of the building.

  “You’re lucky I’m not afraid of heights.” She peered over the lip of the small patch of opaque floor at twenty stories of hotel rooms passing around them.

  He tilted his head, smiling. “I don’t mind if you hold on to me.”

  “My claws come out when I get scared.”

  Shiro opened his mouth and closed it without saying a word.

  The elevator stopped at the second floor and glided forward from its track to meet a docking ring ten feet away. She looked up as they walked out, trusting Shiro for the moment to lead her while she gawked at the space around the elevator column. So many moving parts. Who would waste this much money?

  A dark-blue carpeted hallway led from the balcony, filled with the presence of music too faint to recognize as anything more than background. The restaurant entrance took up the entire end, past two bars and
a lounge where a pair of inebriated men busied themselves at three-dimensional billiards.

  “Ahh, welcome Mr. Murasame. So nice to see you again,” said the host. He bowed, and gestured to another attendant.

  A woman emerged and collected her coat before the younger man showed them to a corner booth tucked into the wall with a wraparound quarter-circle white bench. Risa didn’t think anything of it at the time, but soon realized the size of the bench made it impossible to not be in contact with him. Sitting close enough to feel his body heat during twenty minutes of awkward silence made her regret it. At least when their food arrived, she had something to do other than stare at the table.

  Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Is something wrong?”

  She made a face, not quite a smile. “You keep asking me that. I’m okay.”

  “You have a look about you as though you expect to be killed at any moment.”

  “Maybe I will be.” Her fork slipped from her grasp and she folded her hands in her lap. “I don’t like being out in the open. If I’m recognized, I’ll be lucky to live long enough to see a formal execution.”

  “What happened to you is partially their fault. Your father was murdered when you were small. They may take that into consideration.”

  “I doubt it.” She tried to rub warmth into her arms.

  “So, why are we here then?”

  “I was hoping you’d see your way to helping us out with the orphans. Even if I have to―”

  Fingers on bare shoulder paralyzed her. In a second, she imagined the perfect angle for claws to the throat and the best path to exit. Sensing her fight-or-flight response, her Mems went flat.

  “Risa, I did not ask Garrison to send you as some kind of bribe. I am aware of your circumstances and was only hoping to offer you a few moments’ escape.”

  “You’re rich, why would you bother with a broken doll?” She shied away from him, whispering, “You can buy a new one.”

  Shiro pulled his hand back. “My finances are impressive in the economy of Mars. Where I live, I am a few degrees below comfortable. I do not want for basics, but York Private Sector is expensive. I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but I would not regard myself as wealthy.”

  “So, you wouldn’t want me? You don’t want the little rat in the tunnels?”

  The lack of emotion in her face and voice drew a sympathetic expression on his features. “Risa, I would not dare ask you to offer your body in trade for anything. I thought I saw another wounded soul adrift in the universe, and had a chance to offer her some peace.”

  Risa leaned against his shoulder. Inches from him, faint white lines shimmered in and out beneath the skin of his neck, as her eyes attempted a metallurgical scan. His smile turned her suspicion into guilt, but only for a moment.

  “Why can’t I see your cyberware?”

  He drew a breath to speak, but paused as a manager approached to ask if everything was okay with the food.

  Risa flashed an enthusiastic smile. “I’ve never had better…” What did I order?

  “Exquisite,” said Shiro.

  “Excellent. Please let me know if you have any concerns.” The woman bowed, and left.

  Shiro offered Risa his hand. “Idealists are often the first people exploited by those who wish to keep―or gain power.”

  She found sadness in his eyes, and confusion in her heart. Without thinking, she put her hand in his.

  “I was a young soldier with impressive scores. They approached me for ‘special projects’ teams they claimed would to go into Europe and help the resistance. Half of the ‘resistance’ wasn’t old enough to buy liquor in the UCF.” Shiro glanced away. “It’s as bad on Earth as it is here, at least for the ACC. Worse, because everyone hides it behind NewsNet smiles.”

  “You’re covert ops?” She went rigid.

  “No, not that dark.” He chuckled. “I was with a Special Forces unit, but my team was a far cry from what you’re thinking. That’s all black-bag intelligence operations. I wanted nothing to do with that when I was in, and I want to know about it even less now. I got out as soon as I could. After some success at business, I’ve come to Mars in an effort to deal with my guilt. We’ve both wound up in situations beyond our control, but it’s not inescapable.” He looked her in the eye. “I had hoped our arrangement might prove to be mutually beneficial, but by no means do I expect anything from you.”

  Risa picked at her… fish? How could he know? She kept her mood from being audible. “I’m not convinced more killing is the way to save Mars, but I will do what I have to in order to free her.”

  “Unfortunately, change such as you desire rarely comes without blood. It’s easier to sleep when your cause is just.”

  “There’s only one person I want to kill. Whoever gave the order.” She found her appetite. Her plate held a fillet of brown… something covered in sauce and tiny scallion rings. “What the hell did I get?”

  “Oh?” Shiro stifled a chuckle. “I believe you selected the pan-seared grouper in a black pepper sauce.”

  She nibbled at it. It tasted good, though the consistency seemed off. It wasn’t as tough as ‘beef,’ and it had more solidity to it than anything that ever came from OmniSoy. “This is fish, right?”

  “Yes. Well, genetically anyway. The order?” Shiro raised an eyebrow for three seconds. “Oh… your father.”

  “Yeah.” She took a larger bite, getting a bit of onion as well. “I keep telling myself that I’m not an assassin. For them, I’ll make an exception.”

  “One person.” Shiro sipped his wine. “What about the soldiers who did the deed?”

  Risa took her time chewing, trying to get used to the texture. “I wouldn’t lose sleep over killing them, but… there’s no point hating the sword for what the man wielding it does. If it wasn’t them, it would’ve been someone else.”

  Shiro set his glass down. “A rather enlightened viewpoint. Shall I assume that comes from your conversations with the divine?”

  Fish flew out of her nose and stuck in her throat as she coughed. Shiro patted her on the back twice, hard. Eyes watering, seeing spots, she hid her face in the blue silk napkin until the room stopped staring at her.

  “Sorry, I meant that as humorous.” He plucked a scrap of food from his sleeve.

  She glared at her plate. “You think I’m Cat-6 too.”

  He leaned back, stretching, and slid his arm behind her along the top of the seat. “Among people who flirt with death on a daily basis, one would be hard-pressed to find a soul who didn’t believe―or at least hope―something was ‘up there.’”

  Still coughing, she narrowed reddening eyes at him. “That’s not an answer.”

  “Aren’t we all just a little insane?” He brushed her hair aside with three fingers. “The answer is no. I don’t think you’re categorized.”

  He’s getting too close for comfort. So much for professional. Risa leaned forward enough to keep her back from touching his sleeve. “What’s so special about this job?”

  “A remote ACC defense outpost in the Panchaia region near the north pole presents an opportunity for your friends to expand their operations. It guards a narrow channel through which air transportation would allow an increased sphere of influence over enemy territory. It’s primarily an anti-aircraft camp with enough firepower to dent a mid-sized starship. The good news is that it’s out in the middle of nowhere, and the ACC won’t be able to reinforce the position before your people get out.”

  “What’s the bad news?”

  Shiro picked up a small potato. “It’s out in the middle of nowhere.” He tossed it in his mouth.

  Great.

  He took a moment to chew, swallow, and grin. “Don’t worry. I can arrange a ride.”

  arm clouds of steam carried the taste of metal over Risa’s face. Trails of water from her soaked hair traced down her back like the touch of spectral fingers. The plain, metal bench no longer felt cold to her bare skin. With the dangling LED bulb overhead off, the tiny wash
room at the end of Death Row offered a few moments of dark solitude. A line of glowing blue specks, digital keypads on a row of black lockers, shimmered in the periphery of her vision. Risa didn’t feel motivated enough to use a towel, and let time do the work.

  She slouched forward, elbows on knees, staring at droplets of water gathering at the tip of her nose. Each drip struck the metal floor in a starburst of clean that displaced the grit between her feet. Distant voices rattled in from the vent shaft: comm traffic, heavy objects moving, children yelling, Garrison having a meltdown about orphans in the safe house. She’d won though; everyone who wasn’t part of the command staff had taken to the new arrivals. They’d gone from being orphans to having fifty or so parents.

  Risa grinned at his ranting, leaning a little to the right to finish drawing a smiley face in the dust with the next drop. She sat up, rubbed her face, and peered through her fingers at the red plastic shipping box repurposed into a bathtub. The water is still warm. I could soak longer. She sighed and picked up an e-razor. No time. She stretched one leg out, running the silver wand a finger’s width away from her skin. A two-inch band of pale blue light followed the contour of her leg, disintegrating hairs along the way.

  Rubber soles squished to a halt outside the door. After ridding herself of all hair below the waist, she traced the device through her armpits.

  “Risa, are you decent?” asked Pavo.

  “I haven’t been that for a long time,” she said. “I won’t be in here much longer.”

  The door squeaked. Cold air and light washed over her back. “Oh, sorry.”

  “It’s all right. You’ve already seen every inch of me.” She lowered her arm. Heavy, damp hair dragged across her back as she looked over her shoulder.

  Pavo had turned oblique to the gap in the door, holding something.

  “It’s okay. Close the damn door, it’s freezing.”

  He slipped into the warm, humid room and set a dark-grey vest on the bench to her left. She picked at the delicate material divided into segmented pouches. Pinching it revealed thin tubing embedded within. Pavo folded his arms, not quite looking at her.