Shadowrun 43 - Fallen Angels

by Stephen Kenson

  Stop it, Kellan told herself again. Just stop it. She blinked and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Midnight kept her gaze focused out the window of the small, abandoned Soya-King where they waited.

  "They're here," she said quietly, tapping Kellan on the arm. Kellan quickly gathered her composure and her belongings as Midnight slipped out of the booth, Kellan following close behind.

  The woman who'd met them north of the river was waiting in the parking lot, apparently making a call from a public Matrix terminal. She glanced up as Midnight and Kellan passed by, but didn't acknowledge them in any way. Midnight led Kellan away from the pools of light around the parking lot to the darkened corner of a building down the street. It wasn't long before the elven woman followed them.

  "I see our cred was good," Midnight observed quietly, and the woman smiled, though the expression didn't touch her eyes.

  "Good enough," she said.

  "There's more where that came from."

  "This way," the Rinelle said, and she started walking down the street. Midnight followed without comment, Kellan at her side.

  "Where will you get us out?" Midnight asked. "I just need to know the drop-off outside."

  "Near 84. We have made all the arrangements," the woman replied, and Midnight nodded, apparently satisfied.

  Kellan glanced up at the wall, which was looming closer as they headed east, and was now only a few short blocks away. The rebel brought them to an abandoned lot between two darkened buildings. It looked to Kellan like whatever had been there had been demolished fairly recently, leaving only a scattering of brick and broken glass. Two dark figures stepped from the deeper shadows.

  "You know the routine," the woman said, holding out a strip of dark cloth to Kellan, who took it and began tying it over her eyes. There was nothing to do now but trust her fate to strangers, and hope to make it through the night.

  Orion sat up quickly at the sound of someone outside the door, the twinge in his side making him regret it. The lock clicked and the door swung open to admit Javin the leg-breaker, who gave him the same contemptuous sneer as before. Orion expected Telestri-an's pet wagemage to be with him, but Javin was alone. He was also leveling a snub-nosed automatic pistol in Orion's direction.

  "Get up," he said flatly, and Orion slowly rose to his feet. Javin sidestepped out of the doorway and gestured toward it with his gun, never taking his eyes off Orion, who hesitated for a moment. Was Telestri-an's muscle here to escort him to another interrogation, or had the corporate suit decided Orion simply wasn't worth the trouble? He measured the distance to Javin with his eyes for a moment, calculating how quickly he could cross it.

  "Go ahead," the other elf challenged him. "Try it."

  Orion looked Javin full in the face and saw a tight smile. He saw that the barrel of the gun was held steady. Clearly, Javin meant it. He was hoping Orion would try something, give him an excuse to kill him. Orion considered that reason enough to wait for a better opening.

  He walked through the door and into the hall. It was nondescript enough to be any corporate facility anywhere in the world, but Orion assumed he was in the Telestrian Habitat. That assumption didn't tell him much, since the habitat was itself the size of a small town. Javin escorted him down the hall to an elevator, which he opened by slotting something that looked like a credstick. The interior didn't have the usual panel of buttons, just another port, where the elf slotted the stick, causing the elevator to ascend.

  At least we're not headed down, Orion thought. If Javin was sent to finish him off, he wouldn't take him upstairs to do it, but down to a basement or outside. Orion glanced at the digital numbers counting off the floors, and decided for sure that they were in the habitat, and near the top floors, too. Not many buildings in Portland could have more than one hundred and twenty floors.

  The elevator doors opened onto a hall paneled in what appeared to be beautifully stained and polished oak. Though Orion had very little basis for comparison, having seen mostly synthwood and plastics his whole life, he felt sure it was all real. The carpet was a deep forest green, and the air carried a faint scent that Orion found comfortable and familiar, despite having never smelled it before. He thought it smelled like the forest, but the aroma was richer and more complex in a way he couldn't describe.

  Javin gestured with his pistol, and Orion preceded him out of the elevator and down the hall, where they stopped in front of a set of double doors. Javin knocked.

  "Enter," came Telestrian's voice from the far side. Javin opened the door, motioning for Orion to go in, then following him into the room.

  The office had a spectacular view, not of the city of

  Portland, but of the private estates of the elven nobility toward the west. From the tall windows, Orion could see out over the Portland Wall toward the distant sparkling lights of Royal Hill. Looking at that view, with the silhouettes of castles and estates cloaked in primeval forest beneath a silvery moon and a sky filled with stars, he could almost believe in the faerie tales about the elven Land of Promise. Out there was the Tir Tairngire people imagined, outside the wall, protected from the incursion of the city that was not meant to be a part of their world.

  Telestrian was sitting behind a finely carved desk decorated with an oak-tree-and-ivy motif, looking calm and composed. But Orion barely noticed him; his attention was immediately drawn to the other people in the room, one of whom towered above the rest.

  "Lothan?" Orion said, in spite of himself. "What the frag—?"

  "Orion," the troll mage interrupted. "I'm glad to find you alive. There is little time for explanations, so you must trust me." He nodded toward the Asian man in dark clothes standing next to him. "This is Toshiro Akimura. He has something to tell you, but first, we need to know everything that you know about what Midnight has been doing."

  Orion looked from Akimura to Telestrian and back to Lothan. G-Dogg was standing just behind Lothan, and he nodded encouragingly to Orion. He tried to process what Lothan was saying. Was this for real? Was it some sort of interrogation technique—a trick to get him to tell them what he knew?

  "Javin," Telestrian said, "wait outside." With a curt nod, the security man withdrew. Now there was no gun trained on his back, but Orion still felt confused.

  "Orion," Lothan repeated insistently, "where is Midnight?"

  "I don't know," he said, abruptly deciding to trust Lothan. "She got away with Kellan." He saw from their faces that it had been the answer they feared.

  "We have to find them," Akimura declared. "Midnight set you up. Now she's trying to finish what she started twenty years ago, when she betrayed me and Kellan's parents."

  16

  The Cross Applied Technologies main system was in the independent nation of Quebec, but distance was no factor in the virtual world of the Matrix. While Eve was still on a plane to the Cross main offices, Jackie Ozone was outside the company's host system in the blink of an eye. The Cross Applied Technologies main system was in the independent nation of Quebec, but distance was no factor in the virtual world of the Matrix. While Eve was still on a plane to the Cross main offices, Jackie Ozone was outside the company's host system in the blink of an eye.

  The blocky white towers of the system soared high overhead in the virtual world, topped with lights like shining beacons. A near-constant flow of traffic came and went through the massive double doors situated at the base of the largest tower, the gateway into the Cross system.

  Over the doorway, carved from the marble of the tower wall, was a fantastic, life-sized relief of an angel, head bowed in humility, feathered wings furled around his body. His hands rested on the pommel of a sword, its point at his feet, and white robes flowed around his body. Though it looked like nothing more than a line piece of graphic design, to Jackie's trained eye, the relief was a representation of the first hurdle to overcome: a sentinel program set to watch the system's gateway for intruders. Though the stone angel appeared lifeless, its eyes closed, she knew full well it was carefully and tire
lessly examining everything and everyone entering the system.

  The decker withdrew a shimmering cloak from one pocket. Its silvery material seemed to flow and reflect the surfaces around it in a way that made it difficult to look at directly. Draping it around the shoulders of her persona, Jackie drew up the hood, causing her Matrix-self to vanish from view, blending perfectly into the background of the surrounding system. Thus concealed, she headed for the Cross gateway, keeping a careful eye on its watcher program.

  Traffic moved at a brisk pace in and out of the system, and Jackie merged with it, planning for the system traffic to help conceal her presence. She remained ready to take action at the first sign of trouble from the system's security, but the stone angel did not stir as she passed through the doorway and into the Cross Corp host.

  That's step one, Jackie thought with a sigh of relief. She knew there were plenty more opportunities for her to get caught, and that the longer she remained inside the system, the greater the chances it would notice her unauthorized access, and react. She needed not only to work subtly, but quickly.

  Beyond the main doors was a great rotunda. Columns supported layer upon layer of balconies, soaring high overhead to the massive dome capping it off. The inside surface was covered in a fantastic mural, a reproduction of a Michelangelo, Jackie believed, or a Da Vinci, maybe—she couldn't quite place it. All around the circular balconies, figures moved from place to place. There were honeycombs of shelves and cubbyholes, storage nodes for information, and access to different parts of the system.

  The floor was designed in the corporation's circled-cross logo using different colors of marble inlaid with gold. Corridors led off in all directions into other parts of the system. Jackie broke off from the streams of traffic moving toward one or another of the passages, and approached a rectangular brass plaque attached to the wall. It displayed an index of system nodes: a directory for visitors.

  In the real world, Jackie's fingers flew over the keys of her cyberdeck, its interface translating her thoughts and macro commands into action in the virtual world. Her persona waved a hand in front of the plaque like a magician, and the fine lettering "engraved" upon it changed, as she executed a search program to find the file directory she sought.

  It came as little surprise when no match appeared in small block letters in the center of the plaque for a moment before it reverted to its former appearance. The directory provided information for the top-level, public part of the system, and what Jackie needed had to be deeper, beneath additional layers of security. Or higher, actually, she thought, glancing up at the levels rising above the rotunda floor. She turned away from the directory and headed for a set of stairs off to the side of the entrance.

  At each landing of the stairway spiraling around the central core, Jackie passed an alcove containing another statue, each gazing out over the stairs, standing composed in positions of meditation or prayer, but she could feel virtual eyes following her progress, watching her as she passed by. As she went up through each level of the system, their eyes were upon her. She huddled in the cloak drawn over her persona, relying on the masking software to conceal her presence just a while longer.

  On the fourth level of the system, she headed down a long corridor lined with what looked like the work cubicles of monks and scribes, some of them occupied by robed figures carefully illuminating manuscripts— representations of the data management and storage subsystems. She paused at a heavy book placed on a reading stand, and waved a slim wand over it. In a glittering sparkle of faerie dust, the book flipped open of its own accord. Pages fluttered past, as if blown by a nonexistent breeze, then stopped on a particular page. Jackie ran a finger down the page until she found the right spot.

  She immediately turned and headed down the hall, nearly running into the figure that stepped out to bar her way. He was heavily robed and cowled, leaving his features entirely in shadow, but the tabard he wore over his robe bore the circled-cross logo. Jackie came to a stop just in front of him.

  "Password," the figure said in a deep and emotionless tone; more security ice, limiting access to the personnel and executive files. There was no way she could pass without responding. Jackie's persona reached underneath her cloak, producing a scroll that she handed to the sentinel. The hand that took it was flat black, like a living shadow. It unrolled the scroll and a tiny point of red-orange light appeared at the center of the parchment. It quickly spread outward, eating away at the paper and leaving only charred black ash in its wake. In an instant, the scroll was consumed and vanished.

  "Password," the figure repeated, lowering its arms.

  Damn! Jackie thought. Her spoof program hadn't managed to fool the password protection on the directory. Cross Corp probably had some new upgrades, so now she would need to take a more direct hand in getting past this thing. Quickly calling up the spoof program, Jackie's fingers flew over the keys, tapping commands into the cyberdeck like a musician expertly taking well-worn chords to improvise a new tune. She adjusted the program's parameters, compensating for the reactions of the security to her first attempt, aware that the ice was awaiting a response.

  In a moment, her persona handed another scroll to the sentinel, this one inscribed with fine calligraphy. He unrolled it without comment, and Jackie held her breath as the robed figure paused.

  Damn! There was another puff of virtual fire and the scroll was consumed into ashes, then nothingness. The robed figure was unmoved.

  "Password," it said again. Jackie knew she had already heightened the security program's scrutiny, and it was only a matter of time before it decided to take more stringent measures to ensure her credentials. She was running out of time.

  Kellan floated, surrounded by light. It was the most peaceful, calm sensation she could remember, like a memory of being safe and warm in her mother's arms.

  My mother, she thought. Who was she?

  A beautiful woman, a voice whispered in her mind, so fierce and passionate, so unsuspecting of the power of love.

  Who's there? Kellan wondered.

  I am here, the voice said. I have always been here, Kellan.

  Who are you?

  Kellan suddenly felt as if she was falling. Gravity seemed to reassert itself with a vengeance, and she screamed as she fell into a dark void. The warm, comforting glow of the light gave way to darkness—cold, hard and unforgiving. The light shining around her was a mere glimmer of what she had known, providing just enough radiance to cast dark shadows against walls of stone.

  The light illuminated the face and figure of a man, an elf. He stood in front of her, dressed in jeans, hiking boots and a dark sweater. Over it all he wore an open robe, like the one Lothan wore, its edges embroidered with graceful elven script in silver thread. His hair was honey-auburn and worn long, like Orion and other elves she'd met wore theirs, and his face seemed strangely familiar to her, though she was certain she'd never seen him before. He held out a hand, fingers spread wide in a gesture of forbidding.

  "Hold," he intoned. "By the power of this circle you are bound, by the power of your name do I compel you, by the rites and powers of the elements, I bid you now be manifest to do my will."

  Kellan felt like a weight was pressing down upon her. She tried to move, to speak, but it was as if invisible hands held her fast, clamped over her mouth, muffling her and resisting her struggles. She saw shadows move in the darkness behind the elf as he reached into the pocket of his robe with one hand, and withdrew something he clutched in his fist.

  "As a sign of your obedience," he said, "place your life within this stone." He opened his hand to allow a familiar amulet to spill out, dangling from its chain, which gleamed in the light. The jade stone seemed to glimmer from within, and Kellan recognized the amulet she wore, the one that belonged to her mother.

  It was as if the green stone pulled at her heart and soul, and Kellan could feel them drawn away, a glowing mist swirling, spiraling through the air. Her life was pulled into the stone like smoke, and th
e jade glowed faintly from within.

  "By this token you are bound," the elf intoned, "and so you shall remain, until by it you are freed."

  Kellan felt cold and tired, her struggles weakening. Then she saw the shadows move again in the edge of the light. Something stepped forward, a dark shape emerging. She was clad in form-fitting dark leathers, and a slim hand raised a small pistol, its surface flat black in the dimness, the cylinder of a silencer attached to the barrel.

  Look out! Kellan thought, but she couldn't speak, and a part of her wondered if she should call out a warning at all. The gun chuffed: once, twice, and the elf jerked spasmodically as bullets tore through his chest. He didn't even have time to turn, instead pitching face-first onto the floor. The black-clad figure didn't hesitate, crouching by his side to scoop up the jade amulet that fell from his nerveless fingers. As she did, she glanced up at Kellan, face revealed in the light.

  Midnight.

  The look was only for an instant. Then she turned and ran from the light, disappearing into the shadows.

  "Aerwin!" Kellan heard a distant voice call out, followed by, "Marc!"

  A woman emerged from the darkness, dressed in sturdy street clothes and a close-fitting jacket of black synthleather. Her hair was cut short, her face a mask of concern and fear. She clutched an automatic pistol in one hand. Instantly, she dropped to her knees, fingers searching for a pulse at the elf's neck.

  "Marc . . ." she whispered, rolling him over. "Oh, my God ..." Blood had already begun to pool on the stone floor, soaking into the dark material of his sweater and robe, and the woman bit back a sob. She cradled his head, her free hand brushing gently along his neck. She felt for any signs of life, looking into his eyes, still wide open with shock and surprise. Tears began rolling unheeded down her cheeks, dropping gently onto his face.

  Then she bent down and gently kissed his lips, lowered him to the stone, and closed his eyes. With a look of grim determination, she rose and turned back the way she had come.