Division Zero: Lex De Mortuis Read online

  Her father tilted his head. “But he’s a spirit.”

  “Please, can I get these wrapped, I have to leave.”

  The waiter nodded.

  “No, not with Dorian… about him.” She thumbed her NetMini and glared at the hateful shoes.

  Ten minutes later, Kirsten waited at the curb with three hundred credits worth of high-end Italian take-out under one arm, and a hundred credits worth of cheap shoes below the other. Her father stood with her until the PubTran cab squeaked to a halt.

  he driverless taxi rolled to a halt under a covered walkway. The main door of an apartment building, identical to a thousand others around it in almost every way except for the people inside, waited at the far end. She darted across a floor of cold plastisteel into the lobby, a somewhat-warmer arrangement of resin tiles decorated in an off-putting shade of pale maroon verging on puke.

  From a distant hallway, small children yelled. The sounds of play brought a smile to her face and made her forget all about what’s-his-name. A Class 1 doll jerked upright in the only chair behind the reception desk, ready to interact with Kirsten should she approach. Cast in the image of a twenty-something brunette in a neat uniform, it pivoted to face her. Its rigid face molded in a permanent smile, mechanical eyes whirred wider in an effort to appear welcoming. Traces of light from the AI core in its skull leaked through seams behind the ears and gaps around the mouth. She found it creepy. The smoldering fragrance of dust baking off electrical contacts surrounded it.

  Kirsten went to the elevator door, fumbling to keep her shoes under her arm as she hit the call button. The faint pat-pat-pat of her impatient foot drew the attention of a brown-furred dog from a back hallway. Lime green numbers ticked down in front of her. A handful of people trickled in from the street: commuters arriving home from work. The curious animal darted out of sight at the arrivals. She sent a pout at the vomit-colored tiles, feeling extra stupid for wasting a day off on Brian/Armando. The crowd distributed itself among the six elevators. When the doors at last opened, an older Chinese man, a woman who appeared to be his wife, and a young black man joined her in the cab.

  The Asian couple offered her a pleasant nod, and continued talking about their daughter’s impending wedding. The young man checked Kirsten out with chivalrous subtlety, but she still noticed. She smiled at him, for a moment considering giving up on her intended destination to split the food with him instead.

  The door chimed and closed, the cab shuddered into motion.

  “Hi.”

  “Hello yourself.” A slight bow. “Lawrence.” He made a humorous gesture of an impossible handshake, noticing her arms were full.

  Hmm. Surface thoughts check out, thinks I’m cute in a barefoot-waif kind of way. “Kirsten.”

  Lawrence leaned against the railing. “You live here?”

  “No, visiting someone.”

  “You’re gonna break my heart, aren’t you?” He winked. “A guy?”

  “No, my partner’s ex-partner.”

  His face froze in a look of confusion for a moment. She couldn’t help herself, still eavesdropping. “No, partner as in cops, I don’t have a girlfriend.” Shit. Play it off his face. “Couldn’t help but notice that look on your face.” She loosed an impish giggle. Dammit, don’t lie.

  His cologne wrapped around as he leaned in. “Heh, so you’re a cop? You don’t look like one.”

  “I’m more of an investigator.” Get it over with. “Division 0.”

  “You one of those psionics?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Lawrence edged to the corner; a wary look stiffening his features. She closed her eyes into a sigh. The older couple glanced at him, at her, back to him, and then started chuckling. The cab stopped, the older couple got out. He eyed the hallway, debating.

  “Just because I’m psionic doesn’t mean I’m going to attack you.” She looked up at him.

  He cleared his throat and tried to act casual. Lawrence needed acting lessons.

  Kirsten got off on the thirty-ninth floor, scowling at the sigh of relief behind her that fell short of being silent. Not worth it to make a scene, just let it go. When she reached apartment 3918, she had almost stopped grumbling.

  A tiny speck of chromatic light appeared at the center of the door, at head level, a moment after she toed the doorbell.

  “Umm… I think you have the wrong door.”

  “Nila Assad?”

  A transparent holographic bust with coffee-colored skin faded in above the speck. “Yes, do I know you?”

  “I’m Kirsten Wren, umm. Agent Kirsten Wren, Div 0 I-Ops.”

  The ethereal eyes looked down then up. “Did they alter the uniform since I’ve been on leave?”

  “No.” She grinned. “I just had a bad date. Can we talk?”

  Darkness washed over the door in the absence of the projected face; a second later, it opened with a puff of air. Nila was taller than Kirsten expected, forcing a bit of an upward tilt in her neck to maintain eye contact. Tank top with no bra, sweat pants, barefoot on thick carpeting―just looking at her made Kirsten jealous of the comfort. The apartment was full of the smell of child, a presence in the air she had come to find soothing. On the way to a plain white table, they shared complaints of high heels and wished ill fortune upon whoever had invented them.

  Kirsten offered a plastic carton, the mass of red sauce, pasta, and squid sloshed to the side. “Do you like seafood? The idiot got this, he left before it ever showed up.”

  “Never had it before… Is it any good?” She sat and flipped the lid open, sniffing at it. “I could ̓sem something for Shani; she’ll probably be mad at me, but this smells wonderful. Wow, there’s so much of it, I’ll split it with her.”

  “It should be. It was a hundred and thirty nine credits.”

  Nila coughed. “Jerk.”

  Kirsten leaned on the table, propping her head on her arm. “Yeah. I’m getting used to it.”

  “So what brings you here with expensive charity seafood?” Nila chuckled, and retrieved a couple of plates and some forks from the kitchen.

  “It’s about Dorian.”

  Smash.

  One plate dead, one clamped in an awkward stance to her thigh. Forks bounced onto the rug. A little girl of about seven ran out from a back hallway, gaping at the broken plate. Silver sensgoggles clung to a thick mass of dark brown hair; cheeks flickered in light cast off from a paused video.

  “I’m sorry.” Kirsten fell to her knees, gathering bits of broken flatware.

  “No, please… I’ll get it. You’re a guest.”

  Shaking, Nila set the remaining plates on the table, cleaned up the mess, and returned with new forks. The girl clung to the corner of the hallway, trying to bore a hole in Kirsten’s chest with her eyes.

  Nila sat. “What about him?”

  “I’m an astral sensate and―”

  “Oh, God. Is he still here? Has he come to see me?”

  Kirsten leaned against the chair. “Uhh. Okay, that was easier than I expected. Usually people don’t believe me.”

  “I’m not a civilian.” She tasted the food, curiosity became confusion, and then her eyes narrowed as she chewed.

  She must like it. “Yeah, but even a lot of Zeroes seem to draw the line at ghosts.” She stabbed a forkful of pasta. “I don’t know if he’s come here; I’m pretty sure he hasn’t, he doesn’t want to bother you.” This is pretty good. Kirsten nibbled. “I don’t want to upset you, but he’s beating himself up because of guilt. He’s taken the blame for messing you up.”

  The child squinted at Kirsten, darting out of sight as soon as she tried to look at her. Nila pulled one foot underneath her on the chair and nudged closer to the table.

  “Shani’s afraid they will send someone to make me go back to work and get killed.” Nila doled some food onto a plate for her daughter. “Are you here to talk me into going back?”

  “No, I just wanted to see how you were doing. Dorian’s kind of become my partner now… in an
odd sort of way. He’s attached himself to the car.”

  “Shani, come, eat.” Nila held the second plate out. In a moment, a little face peered around the corner once again, locked in a terrified stare at Kirsten.

  Kirsten averted her eyes; she could not handle a child looking at her that way. Afraid. She poked at her pasta. Shadows crept across the floor as Shani risked getting close only long enough to grab the plate and run into the back hallway.

  “She’s not afraid of you. She knows you’re with the department.” Nila’s fork poked into the food twice, twirled, and then rose an inch. A tiny C’thulu balanced atop linguini for an instant before slipping back to the plate. She impaled it. “I cheated death, I know. I don’t want to get killed. I know it’ll happen if I go back.” The fork twisted, tiny tentacles mesmerizing. “I should have died with him.”

  “He thinks it’s his fault for pulling into the front lot so fast, as if it was just another warrant run on some low-grade suggestive con man.”

  “Neither one of us expected laser rifles. He had a handful of former ACC mercenaries from Mexico. Rene was up to his neck in some crap for them, working for some heavy equipment corp. He turned his bodyguards into fanatic servants.”

  Kirsten held a hand up, trying to chew faster. “Mmf. No, it was organized. Exotech was a front. Rene had syndicate connections… I should say he was using them, too.”

  Nila blinked. “Do they know that?”

  “Not as far as I could find out, but it probably wouldn’t be too healthy for Rene if they did.”

  “D-Nine should already be looking for him; he killed a cop,” said Nila.

  “You sure you’re okay? He’s worried about you, even though he won’t admit it.”

  Nila leaned her head back and stretched to exhale. “I don’t want to die. I’m happy here at home with Shani, where we are safe.”

  Kirsten studied the remnants of her food. Don’t tell her he had feelings for her, that will hurt more. “He thinks your nerve broke.”

  “I’m fine. I’m still on psych leave, still getting paid. I could do some consulting I guess, but I can’t go back out there…” Nila gazed through the vertical blinds at a stream of hovercars; bands of light crawled across her face.

  The thousand-mile stare.

  Kirsten sulked at her lap. “I shouldn’t have come here, this was a bad idea. I’m sorry if I got you upset.”

  Nila shook it off, flashing a nervous smile. “I’m not angry at Dorian. Like I said, we had no idea Rene had laser rifles, or soldiers. The armored windscreen didn’t do a damn thing. All I remember was orange light, smoke, flying bits of glass… Then I woke up in a gel tube.”

  “I’m not fond of those tubes. So embarrassing.” Kirsten reached across the table to grab Nila’s hand. “Even if they are doctors.”

  “It’s not too bad after a while. Compared to the academy, it was no big deal.” Sensing Kirsten’s confusion, Nila laughed. “Tactical goes through military boot camp. Co-ed showers, co-ed bathrooms.”

  Kirsten blushed at the thought.

  “Trust me, hon. No one is thinking about sex for thirteen weeks. Even if they are, they’d be too tired to do a damn thing about it.”

  Kirsten offered an uneasy laugh and finished the pasta, pondering the unusual fear in Nila’s face.

  “My mother used to rip my dress off and spank me in front of her friends. They all found it hilarious. I don’t know if it’s that or not knowing how many pervy ghosts stare at me when I sleep.” Give a little, maybe I’ll get a little. “I’m really uncomfortable with the whole lack of clothing thing.”

  “I’m sorry…”

  “Don’t be. She was a psychotic bitch, thought I was the spawn of the Devil. Do you really think there’s a grim reaper waiting for you at the squad room, checking his watch?”

  Nila shifted in the chair and put her leg down, fidgeted, flashed a false smile, and then broke out in a cold sweat.

  “Mommy…” The little girl ran over and clamped onto her mother’s arm, glaring at Kirsten.

  “It’s okay sweetie, she isn’t going to make me go back. She’s just a friend of a friend.”

  The girl continued her glare, standing in front of Nila as if to guard her from death. The best disarming smile Kirsten could muster did little to dent the overt hostility in the tiny dark eyes pointed at her.

  “Look, Nila, forget I even brought it up. I was just trying to help Dorian feel better and get over some of his guilt. I didn’t want to hurt you or your daughter. If you ever need any help at all from me, here.” She swiped at her NetMini, sharing her PID. Across the room, Nila’s device chimed. “Just call, okay?”

  As she went to stand, the girl bolted, running away as if about to be hit. Kirsten frowned, offering an apologetic look.

  “Don’t take it personally. She’s like that with anyone from the department, thinks they’re going to drag me out of here to my death.” Nila walked her to the door. “Thanks for the food. Tell Dorian it’s not his fault, and I’m fine.”

  isps of steam carried the beautiful fragrance of coffee through the car and around Kirsten’s face. She adored it; at the same time, she hated it for overpowering the scent of Evan’s just-washed hair. Dorian shot her a longing glance as she sipped it, shifting to gaze with boredom at the pedestrians outside. Whenever someone noticed the black patrol craft and aborted jaywalking, he laughed.

  “If you want a taste you can jump in for a moment.” She sipped again.

  He waved her off. “That’s okay. It would feel too awkward having boobs. I wouldn’t even notice the coffee.”

  She snorted it.

  While she rummaged for napkins in the Nippy-Nom bag, the comm crackled to life. Captain Eze’s holographic head appeared.

  “Agent Wren, I see you are having little success with your endeavor to learn how to breathe coffee.”

  Kirsten tried to laugh; it just made her choke more. Dorian laughed enough for both of them.

  “There’s a 21-11 in progress at the Hoyt Towers in Sector 204.”

  Head tilted back, she gasped a few breaths and blinked the tears out of her eyes. “Think it’s a telekinetic or an actual?”

  “I’m hoping you will answer that.”

  “Understood, sir. I’m on my way.”

  His bright smile gleamed for seconds before his head vanished.

  “The man has exquisite timing.” Dorian settled into the seat.

  A rearward tug on the left control stick caused the patrol craft to rise straight up. Right stick twisted right, the car’s nose followed suit.

  “Interesting,” said Dorian.

  “What?”

  “You have the lateral control on the twist and the roll on the stick. Most people do it the other way around.”

  Kirsten shrugged. “I never played video games. Was too busy digging through trash bins for food.”

  Dorian gazed at the roof. “What’s got you in a mood?”

  Foot forward, the car lurched up to two hundred. She hit the lights. “I spoke to Nila last night.”

  He snapped around to look at her. “What? Why? I asked you to leave her alone. She’s delicate.”

  Left stick left, the car slid sideways, right stick right; it rolled into a banking turn around a building. The overall effect resembled skidding through a corner. “I had a bad date.”

  “Do you ever have good ones?”

  Three hundred miles per hour.

  “You drive like you’re in a video game,” he grumbled, clinging to the seat. “Okay, sorry. Please slow down.”

  “What do you care, you’re already dead.”

  An ad-bot whizzed by so close the car passed through the hologram.

  “Whoa! Dammit woman, slow the hell down. I may be dead, but you are not.”

  She let off on the pedal. “Nila’s not delicate. She’s guilty. She thinks she’s next, thinks she cheated death somehow, and he’s waiting for her.”

  Dorian grunted through a hard left. “That shouldn’t have
pissed you off like this. Or upset you. Who did what to a kid?”

  Kirsten’s grip eased off on the sticks. “Shani. Nila’s daughter. She stared at me as if I was some kind of killer there to take her mother away.”

  She hung a sudden right into an uncharted tunnel. Horizontal blocks of steel and glass joined numerous buildings along a two-block area, creating a three-dimensional maze ordinarily off limits to hovercar traffic. The route plot arc, a yellow ribbon on the NavMap, twisted and unkinked into a straight line as she came out the other side, back into mapped area. Dorian emitted uneasy noises as she leveled off and pushed forward on the left stick, causing the car to drop like a stone.

  “Oh, come on. You don’t have a stomach to get sick with.”

  That wry grin she loved/hated so much curled his lower lip. “You seem more confident since you’ve been going through the hand-to-hand training.”

  “I won’t crash. You should have thought of something else for a focus than a patrol car. Bit less risky.”

  “I tried.” Dorian gestured with a dismissive wave. “Rene’s mercs didn’t seem too inclined to laser me to death at home on my couch. I think there’s some bits of me in your chair still.”

  The car swung through the aperture of an enclosed roof parking deck aiming for a landing in the emergency lane. Kirsten tugged up on the stick, buying just enough time for unfolding wheels to accept the car’s weight. A gasp of coolant fogged out from beneath as the hover unit powered off, drowning out the sigh sliding through her teeth.

  “Sorry. I’m being shitty.” She turned to face him. “Something’s bothering me about Nila, and I’m―”

  “Really pissed off, yeah I got that part.” He shook his head before dissipating into a cloud of mist that reformed standing outside. “Question is, at what?”

  Kirsten took a breath, let it out, and shoved the door upward. Motionless until the soft hiss of its ascension ended with a thunk, she climbed out and stared at his belt. “I’m pissed Rene got away with killing you and turning Nila into a civilian afraid of her own shadow; never mind the effect it had on Shani.”