Division Zero: Thrall (10 page)

Hollings offered a dumbfounded nod and a deep breath.

“I don’t think I can do anything here. Aside from the blackened eyeballs, I can’t find any evidence to support paranormal events. Unless something else comes up, handle this like a normal case.”

Dorian fell in step at Kirsten’s side as she made her way back to the patrol craft. “There is something unusual there.”

“What?” She paused, a few meters from the car.

“I haven’t exactly had a lot of practice jumping in bodies, but the one time I did try it, I had to overcome the bond between the corpse and the spirit who used to own it. Remember how you tracked Albert? The same link.”

She pursed her lips.

“Well, Mr. Arris over there had no link. In fact, the damn body pulled me in the instant I touched it. I did not
want
to jump in. He’s been dead too long anyway, right in the midst of rigor, I couldn’t move much. Even making the eyes slide around was tiring.”

“It could mean he did transcend. If the soul moves on to the next place, wouldn’t the link break?” She took another step toward the car.

“I believe so, yes. But, it still doesn’t explain the”―he made a double-fisted pulling gesture into his body, that would have thumped if his chest was solid― “yank.”

“I don’t like it either.” She drew the last word out into a sigh. “To claim jurisdiction on this murder, I need more than a little tuggy feeling on a ‘partner’ command doesn’t even believe I have.”

“What about that?” Dorian asked, pointing up.

Her gaze followed the line of his finger left and into the sky to a large NewsNet bot. In the peculiar way the human mind tends to do, as soon as she looked at it and recognized the face of Kimberly Brightman, she picked the reporter’s words out of the ambient din of advert jingles. In the background, a prim, grey-haired woman with dark skin stood behind a podium of microphones. Kirsten had the feeling she was familiar, the two guards in military armor in the background made her think government official.

“…has announced that she is open to discussions regarding the abolishment of trade embargoes with certain regions affiliated with the Allied Corporate Council. As you know, for years now, Commissioner Vernon has adamantly refused to consider open trade agreements with the ACC, citing numerous human rights violations. This morning’s announcement comes as quite a shock to parties on both sides of the debate. Let’s go now to our Lunar Correspondent, Amy Gordon at Copernicus, with the latest reaction from the Senate.”

The image shifted to a young, fair-skinned woman with short orange-blonde hair and hazel eyes, caught off guard by the sudden shift of feed. Grey and black dominated the scene behind her, with most of the upper reaches of the video a clear view through the Copernicus dome into space. The city behind her, like most of the moon, appeared in black and white―with the exception of full-color advert bots flying around. She stood at the base of a long staircase into an elaborate stadium-like building, with a dozen soldiers in white-on-grey camouflage armor at the top. The gold and blue banner of the United Coalition Front hung on either side of a row of doors.

Her ‘do I have to deal with these people’ scowl down the street was obvious, sending Dorian into a fit of chuckling. The Lunar reporter startled, went wide-eyed in the direction of the camera, and put on a false smile.

“Thanks, Kimberly. I’m here at the Senate chambers, where reaction to Commissioner Vernon’s announcement has been mixed. Former allies immediately decried her change of stance, and leveled accusations of bribery or coercion. I had a chance to speak with Senator Garr a few minutes ago. If you recall, he was in favor of opening trade with the ACC.”

The video cut to an older white man in a suit so expensive it shined. He blathered on about the plight of the lower classes in ACC society, drawing justification for a trade agreement by how it could only benefit poor people who had no influence on what their government did.

“That’s such a load of horseshit I can smell it from the moon,” said Dorian. “If he thinks for one second the ruling class over there will let one credit get to the people, he’s dangerously deluded. It would be like paying them to keep shooting at us.”

“But…”

Dorian held up a hand. “Not on Earth. On Mars. You’ve spoken to some of those vets. The ACC keeps a pleasant face on down here, but up there it’s a whole other story. We have enough trouble holding on to our piece of Mars with the Martian Liberation Front bombing everything they can; giving the ACC
more
resources is insanity.”

Kirsten felt like a ten-year-old watching elders discuss things she neither cared about nor understood. With a lamenting smirk at the car, she muttered “yeah.” Her awkwardness at having no political knowledge waned at a sudden spark of worry. “Dorian, do you think it’s a little odd Vernon changes her mind on something so significant like this?” She glanced back at the Division 2 crew loading William Arris’s body into a van.

“That man had nothing to do with her office.”

“He worked at the West City Archives, didn’t he? That’s still government work. All it takes is access to a computer terminal on the hard net. Maybe we missed an abyssal and it possessed him, used him to get into the government building, and somehow got to Vernon?”

“That’s kind of a reach. Why would a demon care about politics?” Dorian tapped his chin with a finger for a few minutes. “I don’t know. I didn’t get the feeling the body had been in contact with an abyssal, but I’m hardly a scholar on the subject.”

“Maybe I should go check, just a quick meeting. Won’t take long.” She ducked under the rising gull-wing door before it was all the way open.

The flight to Sector 2408 took forty minutes, over two-thirds of the city. The West City Administrative Complex consumed an entire sector square, as well as infiltrated the adjacent ones. Unlike most of the surrounding construction, the main building of the WCAC was only four stories above ground. Most of it went down, protected. Rumor claimed it extended into the earth, more than fifty meters below the surface of the elevated city plates.

She glided to a landing just outside the perimeter wall and drove through the checkpoint gate after a show of ID and a two-minute verification wait. Military personnel clad in generic-green camouflage armor with gold visors littered the area around the stairs. The silhouette of the body armor made it difficult to tell which ones were women; height proved the most reliable means.

Kirsten ignored them all watching her as she went up the stairs. The lobby was a grandiose affair consisting of chrome and black marble. Clusters of benches and plants ringed ornate columns, and the cavernous space held many glass tube elevators. Open to the ceiling, the reception area occupied the bottom of a shaft that offered a view into all four above ground floors through glass walls.

Most surprising of all, the two men and one woman behind the onyx desk all had surface thoughts, and all of them were concerned at the presence of a psionic in this building. She frowned, paying them no heed, and walked up to a large obelisk bearing a directory hologram. Her reflection stared back at her from the shiny ebon glass just behind a five-foot tapestry of light inscribed with names and titles. Commissioner Claire Vernon’s office was listed on the third floor.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the woman receptionist muttering while keeping a worried gaze on her. Kirsten almost punched the elevator button, emitting a heavy sigh.

“That didn’t take long.” Dorian looked around. “What’s got you in a mood so fast?”

She slid through the opening doors, spinning in time to meet the receptionist’s glare before they closed. “Three idiots at the front desk scared shitless of a psionic.”

“I wouldn’t take it personally here, K. This is a place where there are more secrets than people. There’s no security protocol on a brain.”

Her burning glower lifted to the floor counter. “I guess.”

Six figures in Marine Assault armor formed a horseshoe around the elevator as she emerged on the third floor. One close to the center lacked a helmet, seeming to be in his later forties, all-white hair in a neat military brush cut. He raised a hand at her approach.

“This is a restricted section, miss. Visitors are required to go through the receiving area downstairs.”

“I’m not a visitor; I’m here on official police business. I need to see Commissioner Vernon.”

He regarded her for a quiet moment, almost as if he had expected someone like her to show up. “Under what inquest number?”

As Kirsten’s mouth opened to speak, the other five Marines twitched, itching to raise their weapons. She lost her voice at the sight.

“Miss?”

Her eyes flicked back to him, noting the word ‘Gerard’ stenciled on his chest by a stack of chevrons. “I don’t appreciate being threatened, Sergeant. You do realize Division Zero is every bit as legitimate as One or Nine.”

“I’m sorry, Agent. It is a matter of national security. Your jurisdiction does not extend to military installations. Do you have an inquest number?”

“I am investigating a suspicious death that may be related to the Commissioner’s sudden change of heart. My purpose here is to determine if she is under any paranormal influence.”

“Agent Wren, it is only due to your credentials checking out that you’re not being detained already. I can’t let you inside without an official inquest and an order from CENTCOM.” He advanced, taking hold of her right forearm in a grip far less than comfortable. She tensed―old instincts die hard. “Tell us who sent you and we’ll go easy on you.”

She tried to jerk her arm away, but scarcely moved him. Dorian bristled, though his angry glare went unnoticed. Sergeant Gerard smirked at the terror seeping through her eyes and let go. It took her a few seconds to recover any sense of confidence.

“You think someone sent me to
reprogram
the Commissioner?” She blinked. “I’m a damn astral, not a mind-wiper. If you think I’m someone’s tool, sent here to do some political dirty work, do you really believe I’d just walk in through the front door?”

Gerard crossed his arms. “I don’t know what to think when Psios are involved, so I don’t. I follow orders. The only way you’re gettin’ in there to see Vernon is if my commanding officer tells me to let you in.”

She glowered, furious at her public reaction to being grabbed, furious at their disregard of her authority, and furious at not being trusted.

Dorian put a hand on her back. “Come on, K. If you push it, you are going to wind up in a C-Branch detention center where no one will ever find you. Anything you say will just make it look more suspicious. Evan needs you.”

The name washed over her shoulders like ice water. “I have reason to think she might be under an external influence. If you see anything unexplained going on here, please call us.” Kirsten backpedaled into the elevator, not taking her eyes off Gerard until the doors closed. Alone with Dorian, her face softened. “I hope I’m wrong about this.”

He seemed to gaze through the wall at the Marines. “I’m sure we’ll find out.”

ind whistled through the trees of Sanctuary Park. Kirsten shivered more from the sound than from feeling cold. The dancing pattern of moonlight, interspersed between leaf-shaped shadows, lent a foreboding solitude to the night. A young woman in glowing makeup with brown hair came around a bend in the false bricks, leading a man twice her age. Silver material wrapped about her; a garment just tall enough to cover her breasts with a narrow strip of cloth. Her skirt was transparent, offering a plain view of lacy violet undergarments.