Shadowrun 01 - Never Deal With A Dragon (27 page)

Fingers flew across the keyboard, improvising programs to analyze the nature of the hardware in which their programs were operating.

Somewhere in the depths of the mirrors, Dodger saw something move. It was distant and furtive. There was nothing in the apparent chamber to account for the fleeting glimmer.

Analysis programs received abort signals and new instructions were entered at a frantic pace: Cut and Run, Stand by for Execution.

He reached across the room, battling Sam's hands away from their poised position above the Allegiance cyberdeck. He keyed in the run code and punched "Execute".

The chromed mannikins in distant reflections winked out. The vanishing images continued through closer and closer planes of reflection at an ever-accelerating pace. The last images vanished, and with a pop, Sam's icon dematerialized from the node.

Dodger was alone with what moved in the mirrors.

How he knew he wasn't sure, but he was certain that it was coming closer.

His finger stabbed the "Execute" key.

His own reflections began the fugue of vanishing. The presence reacted, moving closer as well, racing the disappearing Dodgers. Its masking chrome dropped, the ebon boy raced around the room as though moving the icon itself might give his reflections the speed they needed to escape the presence. He felt the other nearing, but dared not look back. It was almost upon him as the last reflection vanished.

Pop.

He was panting and bathed in sweat, but he was safely back in the real world. He jerked the datacord from his jack. Sam was looking at him, bewildered. He didn't know enough to be scared.

"What was that?"

"I don't know. I've never seen anything like it before. In fact, from everything I do know, it was impossible."

"But you got us out, anyway." Sam pulled out his jack and tossed it on the counter. "I guess it doesn't matter what it was. We got what I wanted, and now that we're out safely, they can't trace us."

"So it would seem."

"The headache is worth it. I'm sure now that Renraku didn't order the killings. If the feathered serpent had been working for them, its medical data would have been in that file."

"They could have hired it for the occasion."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think so. Not if they wanted to stay legal."

"Pray tell, why not? The contract courts would have let them invoke a termination clause on Hanae and yourself. The villains who rule there rarely check too deeply into whether said employee was really sufficiently valuable to warrant such a clause. Renraku could easily create the fiction that you were both important enough."

Sam looked discomforted by the idea that his former corporation might do such a thing. "No. They wouldn't do that. Even if they did, wouldn't the Dragon have to be part of the corporation? Everyone knows that the courts are scrupulous about proper form during the invocation and execution of such clauses. The law states that any actions taken against the renegade must be taken by bona fide corporate officers."

"The beast could have been a bounty hunter."

"The law also says that bounties must be set and registered in court. You yourself found out that there was none."

"Alas, Sir Corp. The legal record does not always match reality."

"I won't believe there was an unrecorded bounty," Sam said, shaking his head vigorously. "Renraku wouldn't dare risk the sanctions for disregarding the regulations, especially since I didn't take anything. The cost would be far too high."

"You seem well-informed on the law concerning these matters."

"Let's say that I recently had a sudden awakening of interest in the legal status of corporate runaways. I thought the knowledge might have a bearing on my future."

"As it has." Dodger shifted his chair back and stood. Placing a hand on Sam's shoulder, he said, "With this run against Renraku, you have stepped fully into the shadows. You are now divorced from the corporations. I strip thee of the name Corp and formally dub thee Twist."

"Thanks, I think." Sam looked taken aback. "I guess we did O.K., huh? At least I no longer have to worry that Renraku is after me and I don't feel guilty that the other guy took something out, making me an accessory to his theft. Like you said before we decked, if there had been a theft, the whole system would have been on alert."

"Be not so sure that it wasn't."

Sam frowned, then offered a tentative smile. "Why not? I used to work there. Remember? There was no alert."

"Then you can tell me what those mirrors were all about."

"No, but I can tell that there were some glitches in the system. Stuff like the fuzziness in the medical datastore. You know, resolution problems. The mirrors were probably some kind of diagnostic subroutine."

Dodger didn't buy it, but there was no point in saying so. The phenomenon was obviously well beyond Sam's appreciation as a decker. Sam also didn't appreciate Dodger's concern.

"Whatever was going on there won't matter. I don't think we'll have to go back. What we learned tells me that the murderers are somewhere outside Renraku. That's where we'll have to do the rest of our looking."

"First," Dodger said firmly, "we get some sleep. You may take the first shift in the bed, Sir Twist, for I have some thinking to do."

Actually, he had some worrying to do. Not just about the puzzle of the mirrors or the riddle of the murderers. Sam's reaction to the Matrix wasn't normal. Dodger had gotten a look at his datajack when he was checking Sam out on the Allegiance. The port cover had the maker's signature: Soriyama. That name proclaimed it as one of the most expensive pieces of tech Dodger had ever seen. No street doc or hack corporate implanter had done that job. It had been put in by the best, a real cutting-edge cybertechie and there should have been a flawless man-machine interface. Sam's headaches were anomalous, strange enough even without the limping icon. Could the two be connected?

There was more to Samuel Verner than met the eye, cyber or otherwise.

"Sherman, take a look at this!"

Cliber's shout brought Huang running to stare at her console screen. His eyes widened with excitement.

"Signal conductivity and virtual memory increases simultaneous with multi-tasking crashes," Huang muttered. "Where were the crashes?"

Cliber touched a key and highlighted the locales on the architecture construct.

"Hmmm. Intrusions in progress?"

"None on report. I'll run a check," said Cliber, even as she applied herself to the keyboard.

Hutten crowded in to view the display.

"What do you make of it, Konrad?"

The systems engineer looked perplexed. "OMDRs operating beyond spec. A full three banks of 77206 chips at maximum capacity, but the Haas biochip's barely above maintenance cycle activity." He shook his head. "I don't know. It doesn't match any of the expected parameters."

"Exactly." Huang beamed. His infectious grin spread to the other two. "We'll need to confirm it."

"I'll start a full diagnostic." Hutten returned to his own station and jacked in.

From her position at the door of the research lab, Crenshaw watched and heard all. The technical details meant nothing to her, but the excitement of the researchers communicated quite a bit. She had picked a lucky time to pass through the lab on her daily observation tour. If something significant had happened, she would report it to Sato immediately. Perhaps she could claim that her intervention had motivated the laggard team, thereby improving her standing with the
Kansayaku
.

"A breakthrough, doctors?"

Huang and Cliber looked up, seeming stunned by her presence. "No," Huang said tentatively, in accompaniment to Cliber's head shake. More forcefully, he added, "Just a glitch. A hardware problem in one of the nodes."

Crenshaw nodded and said nothing. Their suddenly sober faces told her that they were lying, that they obviously wished she were not present. She decided to accept their explanation until she knew not only what had really happened but just how to use the information to her own advantage.

Sam awoke to find Dodger seated at the foot of the bed, staring at him. The Elf's eyes were bloodshot and the unkempt appearance of his clothes was the result of extended wear more than an artful fashion sense. He had obviously been awake for a long time, which meant that Sam had been sleeping a long time.

"You were supposed to wake me."

The Elf shrugged. "You needed the sleep."

That had been true enough, but Sam felt rested now. "How long?"

"All night and most of the day."

"What about you?"

"I needed the time."

"You needed the sleep. You look like you've ridden a nightmare. I thought you Elves were supposed to be bundles of energy, day after day."

"Guess I'm not old enough," Dodger said flatly.

The Elf's mood was too serious for Sam's feeble jocularity to shake it. Dodger had even abandoned the archaic speaking patterns that he favored. Sam had only noticed that before when the Elf was seriously stressed or deep in technical details.

"Has something gone wrong?"

Dodger shook his head. "I want you to see a certain person."

"Why? What's happened?"

"I think he can be of help."

"Dodger, you're not answering my questions."

The Elf tilted his head back, eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling. He sighed. "I do not have any answers. Only questions."

"What are you talking about?"

"You."

Sam was already confused and now the Elf was making him more so. "You're giving me a headache."

"Your headaches are part of the issue." Dodger leaned forward and stared directly into Sam's eyes. "The pain and disorientation you feel when decking are not normal. Your implant is the best. The cyberware you've been using is flawless. Your thought processes are ordered and logical. In short, you have all the makings of a superb Matrix dancer, but for some reason your icon limps. I suspect the answer lies within your psyche, but I am not qualified to deal with that. You need help with this problem, and I know someone who might be willing.

"You have set yourself a daunting task. Your enemies are ruthless, as you have already seen. To succeed, you must be able to rely without question on your own abilities. Therefore, you cannot afford to be less than perfect in mind."

Did Dodger think he was crazy? Unhinged by his trials? "So you want me to see some friend of yours. He's a doctor?"

"Among other things."

"Another shadow." Sam rubbed at the itchy stubble that was beginning to sprout on his chin. "You urge me to rely on myself while shoving me at strangers and suggesting that I put my head in their hands."

"Enemies may come unbidden, but you must search for allies."

"Platitudes, Dodger? What are you hiding behind them?"

Dodger said nothing for a moment, his Elven face still and suddenly alien. "I think you should see this person."

Sam considered the Elf's statement. Once more Dodger was avoiding a direct answer. He was surely hiding something. Whatever was behind Dodger's mysterious manner, Sam sensed what he wanted to believe was a genuine concern. It might be mere wishful thinking, but, adrift in a sea of shadows, he needed such an anchor. Platitudes or not, it was true he needed allies. Could he afford to offend this one? "If I agree, what's in it for your friend? And why are you, a shadowrunner, helping a corporate refugee? I've got a lot of questions, but I haven't any credit."

"We are not all as mercenary as Lady Tsung." A slight hint of humor had crept in behind the stern mask, as though grimness were no longer necessary. Had Dodger divined that Sam had capitulated to his suggestion?

"But aren't you part of her gang? I thought she was your boss."

" 'Tis true that the fair lady and I have worked together, but I am an independent operator. I have my own interests."

Of course he did. No one who lived the shadow life ever seemed to be pursuing anything but his own interests. "And what are those interests here?"

"You are most persistent, Sir Corp. 'Tis a sterling quality . . . sometimes."

"I thought you changed my name, Dodger. And comments on the virtues, or vice, if you prefer, of my persistence won't distract me."

"Very well then, Sir Twist." Dodger said, with a slight bow of his head. "Shall we say then that this circumstance offers me a way to discharge an old obligation to another?

"Your acceptance benefits others as well. The person whom I would have you meet will find your case of interest, and for him, that will likely be reward enough. You yourself gain. With this trip, you get out of the city and move onward to your goal. All this whilst your humble servant reduces an onerous burden.

"Everyone wins," Dodger concluded, smiling.

"And the alternative?"

"Dost not bear thinking about."

"What choice do I have?"

"Always your own choice, of course."

The Elf's grin was beguiling, mischievous but friendly. Sam shook his head in bemusement and laughed. Once more events were tugging him forward, but this time the direction was positive. He would be going forward of his own will, toward his own goals. That was more control over his life than he'd had in a long time.

Despite Dodger's flip comment, Sam had thought about the alternatives. Otherwise, a choice would be no choice. Though it was true that his need was forcing him toward it, he was armoring himself with his trust in Dodger's sincerity and good will. If Dodger's friend could make it easier to deck, then it would be easier for Sam to track down the murderers and bring them to justice. New as he was to shadowrunning, Sam knew that one did not throw away an advantage, however slim. Dealing with Dodger's friend was a gamble, but it was a gamble that he would accept of his own free will. He stood up.

"Let's go."

Their destination proved to be a private compound at the western edge of the Portland city limits. From the gate, Sam could see that the estate's enclosure extended out past the city's barrier walls, expanding the owner's turf beyond the city's boundary. How far he could not tell; the mansion and groves of trees flanking it screened his view. Such a territory was in violation of the Tir Tairngire ordinances requiring all city properties to be completely within the series of concrete, wire, and electronic fences that separated the enclave city from the Tir proper. That the mansion's grounds existed in such blatant disregard of those laws was an indication of the owner's power in the Tir.