Rebirth (Cross Book 1)

by Hildred Billings

  “Don’t get up so quickly.” Miranda handed her a small bottle of water. This time, it actually was Miranda, and not that conjured figment of Danielle’s regressing imagination. “Jesus. I heard you having a fit on my way out of the locker room. Wanna tell me about this epilepsy of yours, Cromwell?”

  Danielle took the water bottle. How on Earth could she explain a flashback from a past life to her captain? If that’s what it even was? “No, I… never mind. I’m fine. Thank you.”

  Miranda lowered her arms. “All right. Maybe you should think about taking the rest of the afternoon off. I can get it cleared within half an hour.”

  “I’m fine. I promise.” “You promised. You promised you would stay with me.”

  For a second, Miranda’s tanned face lightened. Perhaps, Danielle thought, her captain caught on that there was more going on than mere work issues.

  She was right. While Miranda couldn’t read Danielle’s mind, she certainly knew what had happened. A regression. A short, soon-to-be-forgotten regression that would shake Miranda more than it affected Danielle.

  “Take care of yourself.” Miranda braved leaving her hand on Danielle’s shoulder before walking away, unable to look back.

  Danielle pushed her fingers against her temples and closed her eyes. As much as she hated to admit it, she probably needed to pay another visit to Marlow to find out what the fuck was going on.

  ***

  By dusk, fog returned, coating the southern part of the city with a misty gloom that made it look like a copper canyon. On top of an old and abandoned skyline, a single woman trudged up a fire escape and onto the roof of an old warehouse. Two other figures dotted the far edge.

  “At least you’re punctual.” Syrfila Tograten, the second most wanted criminal in the universe, said to the new arrival. “I can always count on you being on time, sweetie.”

  The arrival pulled out a new cigarette. While Syrfila considered the setting sunlight with a quiet reverence, Miranda leaned against the railing that prevented her from falling to another death. She pulled up the red hood of her sweatshirt, ignoring the man standing between her and Syrfila.

  “So what is it?” she asked the man meditating by the edge of the building. “What do you have to say to me now?”

  He stood up, his grungy clothing hardly out of place in a city like that, but far, far below the station he used to claim. “I’m departing Earth for safety’s sake. I’m leaving it up to you and Syrfila now to see the plan through.”

  “Can’t be assed to get caught, huh?”

  He chuckled. “The vision can’t be seen through if I’m dead.”

  “And fuck us both. I get it.” Miranda flicked her cigarette over the railing. Down, down the spent cigarette spiraled, the fire blinking out in the descent. “We’re expendable.”

  “Maybe you are,” Syrfila mumbled. “But I’m getting out as soon as the world ends around here.”

  “There’s also the matter of those mercenaries. You swear you know the identity of the female one?”

  Miranda turned toward Nerilis Dunsman, the evening breeze attempting to knock her hood back. “I do. I know it like all of my names.”

  “Then dispose of her. Quickly. Whatever means necessary, although I appreciate it if you can keep out of sight.”

  “What is death without any pain?” Miranda coughed. “Whatever. If that’s all you had to tell me, I’m out of here.” She lowered her sunglasses so she could find her way back to the fire escape. A flick of brown hair snapped in and out of her red hood.

  “Where are you going?” Syrfila called. “Don’t you care about what’s going on here?”

  “Going for a drive. Fuck off. You can handle the rest of this crap.” Miranda jingled the keys to the motorcycle she rode into that part of town. To think, she used to enjoy going for bike rides after work.

  “Shit,” Syrfila said with only minor disbelief. “Has she always been this flaky?”

  “Afraid it’s in her nature.” Nerilis waved off Miranda’s indiscretions as if they were nothing. “It’s you I’m more worried about?”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. I need to know that you’re going to see this the whole way through. Otherwise, what am I paying you for?”

  “I ain’t dying for you, that’s for sure.” Syrfila shrugged. “One of us has to stay alive. The whole staying until death thing is more her bag.”

  Nerilis didn’t argue with that.

  ELEVEN

  “What do you mean, ‘Am I seeing lives?’” Marlow lowered his book and regarded Danielle with bemusement. “I say it’s about time. How long were you going to remain dormant?”

  Danielle crossed her arms in bitter defiance. “I used to have visions when I was a kid, but I never realized that they might have been part of this ‘past life’ shit. Now I’m relapsing, I guess. Today I passed out and had some weird flashback. I heard a woman’s voice. Does that mean anything to you?” Danielle turned toward the files lining the shelves of the library. She grabbed the first translated file her hands touched.

  Marlow removed his headset. “You’re not going to find your first life. I keep that locked up.”

  Danielle lowered her hand after trailing the edge of the precious file. “Why?” she asked.

  The old man leaned forward. “Because your first life is the most delicate information you could possibly access. It is the one you were meant to have before you were put into the Process. Every connection you had in that life is something you must remember on your own. That life was a massive failure. There is nothing there for you.”

  “A massive failure?”

  “Yes. I contacted you two too late to make much of a difference. But by putting you into the Process, I guaranteed that the other astral bodies targeted at least had a chance.”

  Danielle shuffled toward the doorway. “That woman I heard was there, wasn’t she? You know who she is.”

  Marlow shook his head. “You have kept your own secrets from me. I have kept mine. Your focus should be on locating the Relics with your partner. Everything else is excess.”

  “Then what about the thing I saw the other night?”

  Exasperated, Marlow slapped his hand on his book. “What thing?”

  “I’m not sure.” The creeping sensation of something preying upon her returned to her mind. Strange that she hadn’t thought about it again until she was in Marlow’s presence. Almost as if the shadowy figure was meant to be forgotten the moment she looked away again. “It was in the shadows. Out of the corner of my eye. I don’t know what happened. I just knew that if I moved, I would die.”

  Marlow gritted his teeth. “It was probably a…” He struggled to think of a proper translation into English. Bad enough it was barely spoken of in his native julah tongue and almost never in the Federation’s lingua franca of Basic. “A shadow. Or a husk. Yes, let’s call it a black husk.” He would confer with Evan about a good translation later.

  “What was it, though?”

  “Doomed souls, I suppose you could say.” This was another conversation Marlow had with his mercenaries every time they were reincarnated. Although the first time they encountered them, it had been almost too much even for the sorcerer who had spent half his academic career studying hafah julahkin, or the spiritual mysteries of his people and the universe around them. “When someone dies, their soul departs their body with the intent of making it back to the Void. Sometimes they don’t make it. If a soul doesn’t make it back to the Void in time, it will wither away into nonexistence. It’s rare, though.” He considered Danielle’s perplexed countenance and continued. “Souls need sustenance to survive, just like the bodies they inhabit. The Void gives them all the energy they need, but it’s limited between death and returning Home. Souls become desperate to recharge. Those facing desperation will start to band together to feed off one another, but this depletes their charges at a faster rate. Then they sense someone like you…”

  “Like me?”

  “You are in the
Process. As you are right now, you have endless potential for infinite lives. You’re like a ticking time bomb of spiritual power. Black husks form when doomed souls use the last of their collective energy to band together into one entity. That’s what you probably sensed the other night. They sensed your innate spiritual power and intended to suck your soul dry to replenish themselves.”

  “You say that like it’s not the most horrifying thing in the world!”

  “You did the right thing by staying still. They eventually deplete their reserves and disappear. Honestly, they’ve probably sniffed you out plenty of times over your life, but…” Marlow glanced at her tattoo. “When I put that on you, it amplified the energy surrounding you. They will be more frequent – and more desperate – now. Please be wary.”

  What she intended as a huffed exit turned into a swerving tirade as Danielle shot Marlow the most hateful glare she could muster from the depths of her blackening heart. “Fuck you!”

  Marlow cleared his throat. “Terse, huh?”

  “Fuck you and your assistant, your dog, whatever.”

  “I heard that,” Evan said from the other room. “And no, you’re not getting the file from me.”

  Dejected, Danielle rushed out, but not before flipping Marlow’s assistant a bird.

  “You don’t wanna know what that means, Boss.”

  Marlow waited until Danielle was gone. “I know what it means. Can’t say I blame her.”

  He sank farther into his seat with a sigh that rattled his body. The book before him had been written thousands of years ago, by an ex-High Priest of the Void about the spiritual implications of a simple butterfly. This edition contained a foreword by the then-High Priest at the time of its printing, and Marlow considered reading it again – but it was not because he wanted to study the basic truths he learned in his youth as an eager acolyte, but because he loved the way Nerilis Dunsman described the beauty of bouncing butterflies, as if they represented nothing more than two souls making love.

  What was it like to have been like that, only to be ripped from the cosmos again and again? Danielle didn’t need to remember that horror. Not if anyone could help it.

  ***

  Protocol was law when it came to working in the military. However, that same protocol was often forgotten when not used in the forgotten offices of data entry.

  Two buzzers existed throughout the building, not counting the disaster alarms that went off every time construction crews brought their rigs a little too close. The first buzzer announced when civilians were admitted into the building. This happened perhaps once every other week, when electricians, janitorial crews, or other civilian consultants were brought in for an hour or two to do their jobs. When that buzzer sounded in Danielle’s office, everyone was expected to either log out of their computers or cover their screens with black cards assigned to every cubicle. It was a pain in the ass, but the brass really didn’t want civilians chancing a glance at personnel files.

  The other buzzer announced when high-ranking officers of another branch entered the building.

  That buzzer went off a lot less often. When it did, everyone jumped out of their seats. Like that afternoon when someone decided to pay a visit.

  A horrible chain reaction began once the officer closest to the entrance stood to attention for the indifferent individual making her presence known. Soon, every lieutenant was outside of his or her cubicle making sure the major from the Marines felt welcomed.

  A major. From the Marines. For some reason, a woman of such caliber was expected. While neither the Marines nor Danielle’s branch expected indoor saluting, the urge was there to smack one’s head against their forehead and hope they didn’t get reprimanded for disrespecting a higher-ranking officer. Especially one from the Marines.

  The woman in the pristine white uniform did not look any of the other officers in the eye. She did, however, bark a low and gruff “As you were,” as if she were perturbed by the lonely lieutenants paying special attention to her.

  Everyone hurried to sit back down and return to their work. Except for Danielle, whose mind and body stagnated once she caught a glance of the major’s face beneath the short bill of her headcover. Wasn’t it also curious that she didn’t deem it protocol to remove her headcover when indoors? What the hell was going on? Either this major was a fake or had such little regard for the rules… oh, perhaps it was a test. Sometimes the different branches liked to prank each other in M-Town.

  Danielle finally sat at her desk. That face. Had she seen it before? At least she wasn’t the only one whose eyes were transfixed on the woman sauntering down the aisle toward the captain’s office.

  “G-good morning, ma’am!” Shelley leaped up from her desk, her short heels hobbling her ankles. She went to salute before remembering they were indoors. In her defense, the major was wearing her headcover.

  “I request to see your captain immediately,” the major said without telling the poor secretary to return at ease.

  “Captain Hotchner is currently in a phone conference, ma’am.”

  “It’s all right, Lieutenant.” Miranda appeared in her office doorway, face sinking far into a sullen countenance. “Hold my other calls until further notice.”

  The two commanding officers disappeared into the other room.

  Without the major looming in their midst, the other lieutenants slowly returned to work. Some were too gossipy to get any real work done, although being caught gossiping would get their hides tanned. Danielle was likewise distracted, but not because of gossip. The long, lean face of the woman in Miranda’s office was too familiar to ignore.

  Almost as if she knew her in another life.

  Another hour went by. The major never reappeared. Even Shelley showed signs of animosity by constantly answering the phone to say, “I’m sorry, but Captain Hotchner is in a meeting right now. May she call you back later?” The more people she put on hold, the more other commanding officers would yell at Miranda in due time… and that would trickle down to the rest of the department.

  Danielle would deal with that when it came around. Until then, perhaps it was best to get back to work.

  But why would anyone allow her to move merrily along toward lunch?

  Shelley’s voice blurted into everyone’s headsets. “Lieutenant Cromwell, report to the captain’s office. Lieutenant Cromwell, captain’s office.”

  “Goddamnit,” Danielle muttered. She shoved back in her chair, dropped her headset, and wondered why she was summoned. She had no affiliation with the Marines, and furthermore, could not think of a reason for Miranda to need her right now. The more Danielle dwelled on it, the more ridiculous it became.

  She trudged to Shelley’s desk, where she was met with a sour glance that informed the room nothing made sense anymore.

  “Is it okay to go in?”

  Shelley shrugged. “Beats me. I’m just the messenger.”

  Danielle approached the office door with trepidation. She knocked once, expecting the familiar grunt telling her to enter. She never heard it, though. Nor did she hear much of anything. Not one to intrude even outside of the military, Danielle waited another minute before knocking again. This time she thought she heard some sort of affirmation coming from the other side. Whether or not she did? Whatever. She grabbed the handle and swung the door open as if she were bestowed with every God-given right to do so.

  The air in the office was tenuous, as if the order to proceed with an invasion was about to go through at any moment. But that was preposterous. Miranda was practically a bottom feeder on that hierarchal totem pole, and a Marine major would not be the one to deliver the order to the department. Even so, Danielle had interrupted some altercation meant to bypass whatever bugs were cleverly installed in Miranda’s office by her commanders or whoever the hell felt like listening in on Fags and Freaks.

  Miranda sat behind her desk, her khaki top disheveled while she straightened out her hair and attempted to not blush in front of Danielle. The major sat c
asually in her seat, one long leg thrown over the other with her headcover nestled between the chair and her arm.

  If Danielle had concluded that Miranda and the major were up to absolutely no good, then she wouldn’t be far off the mark. Nothing “good” had happened in that office before Danielle’s arrival. Nothing that Miranda wasn’t used to, but still nothing good. Wherever this Marine went, innuendo and insinuation followed. It was no coincidence that Miranda was found with her clothing tousled.

  Danielle politely turned away in embarrassment. Behind her came a curt, “For the love of God, Cromwell, shut the door before we’re all discharged.”

  Without thinking about the implications of anyone catching these two commanding officers in a compromising position, Danielle closed the door and turned her attention to the major sitting to her left. It was almost impossible to look into those whirling brown eyes already sizing her up and dressing her down. What was this? A new lesbian’s club, and Danielle was the third member?

  “Lieutenant Cromwell,” Miranda began, flustered, “this is Major Kobayashi. She commands a training unit for the Marines out of the bay.”

  “Major.” Danielle nodded her head in reverence. She wouldn’t sit down until someone told her she could. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “No, Lieutenant.” Major Kobayashi extended her hand for a shake, still sitting in her chair. “The pleasure is all mine, I assure you.” Their handshake was so one-sided that Danielle worried her hand was about to break in half.

  “The major has been anxious to meet you, Cromwell,” Miranda said. “I couldn’t tell you about what, though.”

  “There is something I would like to discuss with you, Lieutenant. Would it be possible for us to have some privacy, Capt. Hotchner?”

  Miranda’s brows furrowed into a dark scowl. “I’m afraid that would break my assigned protocol, unless you have a direct order from one of my own commanding officers. After all, this is my office, and with all due respect, you are the one out of your zone, Major.”