Never Deal with a Dragon

by Robert N. Charrette

  Greta and Black Dog went right to work putting the man on the collapsible gurney that came out of the Ork’s case. Sloan stood to one side, glancing back and forth between the doppelganger and its victim.

  “Pretty good make-up job,” he said to the thing in the bed. “Hardly tell you is an albino.”

  “I have some special advantages,” it replied casually. Already its voice sounded more like its victim’s normal tones.

  Sloan chuckled. “Yeah, I bet. Hope you pull it off, chummer.”

  “Come on, Sloan. Give the others a hand,” Hart snapped. She ignored his scowl and addressed Jenny. “Any traffic in the area?”

  “A few private blips, but Lone Star patrols are all elsewhere. All ‘Wagons down or already got passengers.”

  “Put out the call. Kurt can move as soon as he gets it. Full sirens. He’s on a mission of mercy, after all.” Hart smiled grimly as she watched them strap the man’s limp body onto the gurney. Operation Turncoat had just made a major milestone.

  With Sloan’s help, she bound her hair quickly and snugged it beneath a soft green cap. After fastening the front of her uniform, she shrugged the strap of the satchel over her shoulder. She, of course, was the doctor.

  “All set.”

  “Yuh,” Greta replied as she slid the last tongue into the last buckle. “Baby’s ready for his ride.”

  “Jenny, lock up here as soon as we’re out. Then you’re riding cover for us.” Hart checked the trideo feed that Jenny had set up to ensure that the hall outside was empty. “All right. Let’s roll.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Some kind of turmoil was brewing in the back of the main room. The flash of pale green uniforms amid the varicolored finery of the club’s clientele gave him a moment’s warning of what to expect before the crowd was split by a bellowing Ork nurse. She was using her size to cut a path for the gurney that followed her. Two attendants wheeled the cart and its passenger under the direction of a woman in a DocWagon physician’s coverall. Between the oxygen mask and the blankets swathing the patient, Sam had no clue to the person’s identity or condition.

  The doctor was a different matter. A cloth mask obscured most of her face, but her bronze eyes told him what he needed to know. She winked at him.

  “That’s them, Hanae. Time to go.”

  With most of the crowd gathering around to see the impromptu show, he and Hanae had little trouble slipping into the mostly vacated area near the doorway to the landing pad. Through the glass, Sam could see a Federated Boeing Commuter with DocWagon markings come in for a landing. The tilt-wing’s great rotors kicked up dust as the VTOL craft settled dead center on the landing circle.

  The medical team cleared the crowd and dashed for the doors. Sam pulled one open to ease their way. The Ork shouldered the other open and the gurney slid through. The runners raced across the pad, leaving Sam and Hanae at the door. Roe was the first on board, guiding the cart through the hatchway.

  Sam and Hanae ran for the plane.

  The throaty roar of the craft’s engines could not drown the high-pitched whine as the screamer on Sam’s wrist went off. Floodlights winked on, filling the pad with light. Through the glare, Sam looked for Roe in the VTOL, but she had disappeared.

  Inside the club, red-uniformed guards were struggling to get through the crowd around the door. Along the strings of pads, armored Renraku security men pelted toward the club’s landing pad.

  The leading guards called for them to halt. Hanae did so, almost instinctively obedient. Sam shoved her back in motion. There was no stopping now.

  They reached the aircraft just as the the first squad reached the edge of the landing pad. The sound from the Commuter changed its pitch as the engines increased power for takeoff. Hanae scrambled up, but her bag caught on the edge of the hatch. Sam ripped the strap from her shoulder and let the satchel tumble to the concrete. Hanae started to grab for it, but Sam gave her a hard push forward. She fell in a heap inside the passenger compartment, and he leaped in after her. Behind them, Hanae’s mementoes spilled out across the landing pad, scattered and lost to the night by the wash of the aircraft’s props.

  “This is your last warning,” boomed the amplified voice of the helmeted guard captain. “Shut down your motors.”

  The female Ork swung into the hatchway. The Ares Predator looked almost small in her huge fist. “Frag off!”

  Her gun boomed, sending guards scattering in all directions. One sprawled flat on his back.

  The guards returned fire. Their automatic weapons spattered gel slugs across the hull of the VTOL. One had swapped the standard duty magazine for another that carried lethal ammunition. His slugs chipped at the aircraft’s hull, stitching a path that ended at the Ork. She grunted with the impact, but remained standing in the hatchway.

  “Gotta do better than that to take old Greta down, you bloody breeders.”

  One guard took her at her word, placing his shot between her eyes. She tumbled from the plane as it lifted from the pavement. Wind howled through the open hatchway as the VTOL headed up and away from the arcology.

  “What went wrong?” Sam shouted to Roe.

  She shrugged. “My decker wasn’t as good as he thought. Sorry.”

  Sam reached out and grabbed the knife hilt he saw protruding from Roe’s boot. She watched quietly as he slid the blade under the band on his wrist. With a grunt and a twist, he sliced through the tough plastic. He threw the band across the compartment, where it caught in the slipstream and whisked out the door. Sam tossed the knife to Roe, who caught its hilt.

  “Thanks,” he said, turning to comfort Hanae. She sat kneading the remains of her bag, clutching tearfully at the few remaining items that fell from it.

  Roe slipped the knife back into its sheath. “Black Dog, get that hatch closed.”

  The man she addressed rose and tugged the panel across the opening. As he latched it, the noise level dropped dramatically. The other runner took advantage to lean across to Roe.

  “What about Greta?”

  “What about her, Sloan?” Roe stripped off the doctor’s cap and shook out her hair. “She knew the odds.”

  “She was one tough lady. Real wiz in a fight,” Sloan eulogized. “Gonna miss her.”

  “Enough to pass up the extra share you get?” Black Dog asked.

  Sloan sent him an evil look. “I’ll take the share, but I’ll miss her.”

  “Till you’re into your next chip,” Black Dog muttered.

  “You shuddup.”

  “Take more than you to do it, chiphead.”

  Sloan reached under his tunic. The gun he pulled was small and black, but Roe kicked it out of his hand.

  “Save it, you two. When this run is over, you can tear each other’s throats out. Until then, you work for me. We’re all pals and it’s business as usual. Got it?”

  “Yuh. Just business,” Black Dog agreed with a grin. Sloan nodded sullenly.

  They flew on without further conversation until the Commuter tilted suddenly. Hanae was thrown from her own seat into Sam’s lap and Sloan crashed to the deck. The others barely managed to keep their seats and the gurney tugged at its moorings, threatening to slip them.

  “What’re you fragging doing up fragging there, Kurt?” Black Dog howled.

  “Company on our tail,” came the shrill reply from the cockpit. “Raku hot air.”

  “How bad?” Roe asked tensely.

  “Computer pegs it as a hopper jet. A little less maneuverable than we are, but more than enough firepower to burn our tail. They’re offering to do just that if we don’t put down right away.”

  “Drek!” Sloan exclaimed as he scrambled back to his seat. “Roe, we gonna get fried. This crate can’t go up against anything with armor or guns.”

  “On ice, Sloan,” Roe ordered. “Kurt, keep close to the buildings. They won’t shoot if it risks hitting one of their corporate bedmates’ towers. And turn off the radio. You don’t need them distracting you.”

  �
��Gotcha,” he shouted back as he banked the VTOL. “I’ll head for the Mitsuhama Tower. Hellfire, those nuts might take down the Raku ship on general principles.”

  “Sure,” Black Dog moaned. “So they can haul us in themselves.”

  “No plan’s perfect,” Roe observed. “Do it, Kurt.”

  The flight became a roller coaster ride as Kurt took the Commuter through a series of maneuvers not intended by the craft’s designers. Through it all, he always managed to keep some valuable piece of real estate between them and their pursuers, preventing the latter from opening fire. The people clinging to stanchions and seats in the passenger compartment could do nothing but rely on the pilot. Sam prayed, but he knew that their luck, or their fuel, would run out sooner or later.

  Hanae huddled against Sam, clinging to him rather than her seat. He felt her shaking and smelled the sweat of her fear. Suddenly she gripped him tighter. He looked down to see her staring out the window into the darkness.

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “I thought I saw…There! There it is again.”

  At first all he saw was darkness and the lights of the metroplex. The he saw the shadowy, serpentine shape briefly eclipsing the neon demon shapes adorning the Aztechnology pyramid. Sam didn’t want to credit his eyes.

  The winged form flashed through the lights of the Commuter and cut back behind it. As the VTOL banked again, Sam saw the creature breathe a short burst of flame. The backflash shone on the beast, highlighting its rainbow feathers, scaly snout, and ivory dagger teeth. He could deny his eyes no longer. That was a Dragon in the skies of Seattle.

  The beast was not much longer than the aircraft, but the breadth of its wings made it seem much larger. But then any Dragon was too large. Was it here to destroy them? Renraku used black ice against computer intruders. Did it unleash Dragons against those who ran from the company?

  Sam watched in fascination as the Dragon cut around the Commuter and rushed toward their pursuers. The Renraku pilot reacted instantly, skittering his jet sideways in a burst of directed thrust before banking up and away.

  “They’re running,” Kurt screeched triumphantly from the cockpit. “Something spooked them.”

  “A Dragon,” Sam said in a voice suddenly hoarse. He looked directly at Roe.

  “Tessien,” she said. “We work together.”

  Sam waited for her to say more, but she merely stood up and made her way forward to the cockpit. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

  Lord, you send strange salvations.

  Once again, Sam was flying off into the Seattle night, involved in somebody else’s plots. The first time was bad enough, but now there was a Dragon involved. What else had Roe neglected to tell them? What had he and Hanae gotten into?

  Part 2

  It’s A Different World

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  All night long they were shunted from place to place in an assortment of vehicles. Roe told him that all the shuffling was supposed to throw off any pursuit, but Sam realized it was also to confuse him and Hanae so that they could never expose any facilities or people that were part of the runners’ network. Despite it all, Sam knew they were somewhere in the Redmond Barrens. He could smell the infamous “Tacoma aroma.” Not even the best shadowrunner trick could hide that.

  The Redmond Barrens was not a nice place. Covering most of the old city of Tacoma, the Redmond District was officially part of the Seattle metroplex, but it was a slum mostly neglected by the government. That was even more true for Lone Star Security Services, who held the police contract for the plex. From what Sam had glimpsed during the transfers between vehicles, some parts of the district looked as though they had been through a war. The rest looked like the war was still going on.

  The building where the van finally stopped was an old automobile sales facility, full of hollow echoes and old grease. The vehicle sat in a repair bay. When the bleary-eyed passengers rolled up the back door to debark, they found the feathered serpent coiled and waiting for them.

  Hanae shrank back at the sight, gripping Sam as though he could protect her should the beast attack. Even the hardened runners seemed reluctant to exit the van near the serpent. Shouldering past them all, Roe walked up to the beast and ruffled the feathered mane at the back of its head.

  To Sam’s amazement, he felt a hint of the dracoform’s pleasure from Roe’s caress. In some uncanny fashion, it was broadcasting its emotional state. He wondered if the others felt it, too, then decided they must be. Everyone in the group had visibly relaxed. Even Hanae looked less tense. It was as though the Dragon had reassured them that it meant no harm.

  “Hey, Roe,” Chin Lee called out. “This mean we gonna be here for awhile?”

  “Till dark anyway. Make yourself at home,” she answered without looking at them. “Sack if you want to.”

  Sloan and Black Dog jostled past Sam and Hanae. Digging into a pile of sleeping pads heaped among some crates near the van, each appropriated a prize and dragged them to a separate corner. The rivalry that had flared occasionally during the ride continued as the two men watched each other warily through sleepy eyes. Kurt, who had spent the night in a variety of driving seats, never left the vehicle. He simply put his head back against the rest and started snoring.

  “Well, I’m hungry,” Chin Lee announced to no one in particular. Ever since emerging from the Commuter’s cockpit with Kurt, the Ork had been stuffing things into his mouth—krill wafers, soycakes, and a seemingly endless supply of Krak-L-Snaps. Now he rummaged around in a crate next to the one that had yielded the sleeping pads until he found a zip-heat package meal. Pulling the tab, he tossed it on a nearby oil drum to heat and rummaged some more. By the time his meal was hot, he had restocked the satchel at his side and tossed a half-dozen more meal packs on the drum. He opened his packet, breaking out the eating utensil on his way back to the vehicle. Flopping down on the van’s tail, he stirred the contents of the packet and began shoveling the gooey mess into his mouth.

  “You two help yerselfs,” he mumbled around a mouthful.

  Hanae looked a little green, but Sam thanked the Ork. He led Hanae around to the side of the van, careful to stay between her and the dracoform. The runners were ignoring them, though Sam felt sure someone would get plenty interested if they attempted to leave.

  After settling Hanae in a relatively clean spot between the boxes, he fetched a pad and blanket from those the other runners had rejected. He made another trip to gather a pair of the least awful-looking food packs and a a six-pack of Fizzygoo; the jugged water looked even less drinkable than the Fizzygoo. As expected, Hanae wouldn’t even look at the stuff, but she would be hungry later. He lay down next to her and held her until she fell into a fitful, exhausted sleep.

  Sam was tired, too, but sleep was fugitive, vanishing from his grasp as had his former dreams of a happy corporate life. Carefully disengaging from Hanae, he sat up. He wasn’t really hungry, but had nothing better to do, so he set a meal pack to heating. As he leaned back to wait, Roe appeared at the outer edge of their crate-walled sanctuary.

  “Better get some sleep, chummer.”

  “Too much to think about.”

  “Oh, ho. Tough work, thinking.”

  “Sometimes,” he agreed. Roe seemed relaxed, as exhausted as the rest of them. Perhaps her tiredness would lower her guard enough to let slip some clue to what he had gotten Hanae into. “I’ve been thinking about that fellow in the van.”

  Roe gave a tired chuckle. “Kurt sleeps like that all the time. He’ll be fine when it’s time to roll.”

  Was she deliberately misunderstanding him? “Not him. The Renraku executive whose name no one seems to know.”

  “Names can be dangerous,” she warned. “I thought you understood that.”

  “I do understand. I’m not asking because you’ve made it clear you don’t want me to know.” Sam didn’t have to pretend concern. “I’m just worried about him. He’s been unconscious all ni
ght.”

  “And it looks like he’ll stay that way a while longer.” She reached out and snagged one of the ration packs. With a deft flick of the wrist, she opened it and snapped the eating tool free of the cover. “Don’t get the wrong idea, Sam. We’re not sedating him or subjecting him to mind-control drugs or anything like that. It’s a side effect.

  “Simulating an ‘illness’ was a good way to get him out of the arcology, and he agreed. He came up with the idea for his own ailment, and even got the drug that would fake it. From his med file, we knew that the injection might induce a temporary catatonia, so we brought along what we needed to make sure he’d come out all right. He was very anxious to leave and thought it was a reasonable risk.

  “Paid off, too. His vital signs are stable, so don’t you worry. Trust us,” she cajoled, offering the tray from which she’d been eating. “He trusts us.”

  Sam took the offered food, but said nothing. They traded the packet back and forth until it was all gone, then he opened a Fizzygoo for her. She accepted it with a look of distaste, then lifted it in a toast and downed half the container.

  “What happened to the albino?”

  She eyed him for a moment, but he couldn’t read her expression. She shrugged. “Got sloppy and got caught while we were getting your compatriot out.”

  “His loss just a part of the marginal costs of business, like Greta?”

  Roe carefully placed the Fizzygoo packet on top of one of the crates before speaking. “Look, Sam. We all know the risks when we take on a job like this. Renraku is in the big leagues. They play rough. We runners live on the edge, betting our lives that our skills, knowledge, and luck are enough to keep our butts from being boiled. Sometimes we lose.”

  “Why didn’t you do something to recover her? Why did you leave her behind?”

  Roe closed her eyes and hung her head. “Didn’t you see? She was head-shot. Medicine’s real good these days and magic can do quite a bit, too, if the mage knows the right spells. But she didn’t have a hope in hell.”