Never Deal with a Dragon

by Robert N. Charrette

  As he watched the recording, the sight of his own image was a puzzle, though unimportant at the moment. He was seeing men die. Some died trying to do good; others died trying to do their duty. Shadowrunner or corporate, they were just as dead. He watched himself double-cross and abandon Sally and the others, realizing suddenly that the Sam Verner he was seeing must be some kind of disguise for Jacqueline. What should have been a lightning snatch, leaving the Renraku guards too surprised and outgunned to react, had been twisted into an orgy of death, destruction, and betrayal. Everything connected to Haesslich’s plans, his petty attempts to increase his power, wealth, and influence, ended in death. But the only thing the Dragon saw was that he had been thwarted.

  Haesslich’s bitterness crackled in the air. Watching the beast scream its rage, Sam knew it would not suffer him to live much longer. The Dragon could not know that Sam had been betrayed by agents of yet another Dragon, nor would it care.

  The Dragon arched its neck back and bellowed, flames flickering about its teeth in promise of a firestorm to come. Just as Sam was praying it wouldn’t hurt too much, a song began to run through his head. The singer had the quavering voice of Dog. He must have come to join Sam at the moment of death. It was sheer madness, but now the song was coming from Sam, too.

  Haesslich tilted his head down, lips curling back from his teeth.

  “Come on, wizworm,” Sam shouted giddily, his words seeming to keep time with the song. “Come and get me if you can.”

  As the Dragon unleashed his fiery breath, Sam staggered back, the blast wreathing him in flames. Sweat poured off, to be instantly evaporated away. Beneath his feet, the asphalt softened and bubbled. Within the fire, cocooned by the spell song, he was untouched.

  With the Dragon’s violence as their cue, Ghost and his tribesmen opened fire from their concealed positions. Haesslich roared, more in surprise than pain, venting flame into the sky. Uncoiling his powerful hind limbs, he launched himself into the night, giant wings spread and beating the air.

  The Dragon rapidly gained altitude, escaping the tracers that sought him. Then, with a sudden wing over and a bellow, he dove toward the largest group of attackers.

  The sight drove some of Ghost’s tribesmen to flight, but the samurai leader remained steady, standing braced against the parapet. Even his loader fled, leaving the pack of belt-fed ammunition to lie at the Ghost’s feet. The light metal box leapt from its cloth carry sack and danced on the roof-top as the belt uncoiled to feed the voracious appetite of the Vindicator minigun.

  The Dragon dodged and rolled to avoid the stream of tracers seeking his hide, but each maneuver only forced him to spend more time trying to reach his attackers. Ghost swiveled the gyro-mount to follow each slip and jink, always pumping more slugs into the beast, who could not completely avoid the Indian’s fire. Crisscrossed with wounds, chunks torn from his flesh, Haesslich pulled up into a stall, throwing off the deadly aim of the man on the roof.

  Then Haesslich rolled into another dive, again surprising Ghost, whose tracers cut the night a full twenty meters from the beast. Wounded beyond endurance, the Dragon suddenly dropped from the air like a rock, straight into the dark waters of Puget Sound. The waters closed over him and Haesslich was gone.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Sam knelt in the asphalt, the heat spreading through the komex fabric of his jumpsuit. Spread around him, the tails of his long coat were scorched and blackened. By his side, the trideo unit was a slag heap.

  Death for death, Lofwyr had said. And the great golden Dragon’s sentence had come to pass. Haesslich’s death had paid for Hanae’s, but that had not been what Sam had set out to do. He had wanted proper justice, but got revenge instead. Any attack on his person was the signal for Ghost and his tribesmen to open fire, springing an ambush Haesslich couldn’t escape. The Dragon had brought death on himself by trying to kill Sam. Death for death. Sam had expected to die tonight, trading his own life so that the Dragon could be caught in one of his crimes. Wasn’t it justice that a murderer be killed in an attempt at murder?

  Sam was very tired, but there was no time to rest. He’d settled with Haesslich, but the people who’d laid their lives on the line to help him were not yet safe. Jaq had abandoned Sally on the arcology. If Sally had been taken alive, he’d have to find a way to free her. He wondered if Ghost had seen the replay of the fight on Landing Pad 23; it would have been a difficult angle. If he hadn’t seen, he would have to be told.

  Sam had to leave the UniOil grounds before anyone showed up to ask embarrassing questions. The Dragon’s roars and the gunfire would have United Oil security on its way right now. He scanned the roof from which Ghost had downed the Dragon. It was empty. Ghost would be withdrawing the men to the rendezvous point; he knew better than to dawdle. All Sam had to do was board the copter and have Jaq’s rigger fly him out the way he had come in. Wearily, he hauled himself to his feet and trudged to the aircraft. Once inside, he threw himself down in the seat.

  “Time to go home, Indramin.”

  There was no response. No voice. No engine.

  Out in the compound a siren began to wail.

  Lights were coming on across the compound as the siren screamed mournfully. Hart looked down the alley that gave her a view of the security field office and saw heavily armed guards pouring out. In their midst, she made out the personal combat armor of Major Fuhito. The dockyard wasn’t his normal turf; he only came here when he had to. The ambitious bastard must have been keeping an eye on his boss’s doings and played a hunch to be here tonight. It was probably Haesslich’s own order to stay clear that had tipped him off. He was obviously expecting trouble, too, for he was already armored up.

  Hart watched Verner pelt out of the helo and look around for which way to go. His chummers had already melted into the night. He was on his own.

  She could show him the way out, but why should she? What did she owe him? Tessien’s death. Haesslich’s too, by the look of things. That thought disturbed her a little. Didn’t the law call a life for a life an even balance?

  The guard would corner Verner if he didn’t take the right path. A rat like Fuhito wouldn’t treat him kindly, especially when he realized that Verner was a corporate runaway. Did she hate Verner enough to let Fuhito get him? He’d shown himself a canny and resourceful runner. Or maybe he was just a lucky one. Either way, Hart had seen enough death tonight. She didn’t have the heart to watch him go down.

  She ran to the edge of the roof, and saw him hug the wall and check the shadows ahead before taking the corner. Her whistle snagged his attention. His head snapped up and his hand pulled back his long coat to let him grip the handle of his gun. She held her hands in his sight, away from her body. “No hard feelings, Verner. It was just business, but the contract’s over now.”

  He didn’t answer, but seemed to relax a little.

  She gave him a smile and reached down slowly to ripple the rope that dangled to the road below. “Come on, let me show you the back door.”

  She watched the struggle on his face as he realized he was trapped without her help. Hart could also see he didn’t trust her, for which she couldn’t blame him.

  A hissing like mad tea kettles rose from beyond the next building. The cockatrices were out as well as the guards.

  Verner dashed across the roadway and started up the rope.

  Sam watched Hart walk away. Ever since he had learned her name, Sam had thought of her as a hard-hearted, mercenary killer. Hadn’t she tried to kill him before? But instead of leaving him to the guards and the cockatrices, she’d saved him. To think that he’d hoped she would run afoul of the Red Samurai at the airport. For more than the sake of his own hide, Sam was strangely relieved that she hadn’t met up with the Samurai.

  Hart clearly had her own concerns and agenda. Had Haesslich double-crossed her the way Lofwyr had him? What were her motives? When he had questioned her, she had snapped at him, telling him to shut up .

  Alone now, he looked up at t
he sky. Clouds had come in to cover the stars. It would rain soon.

  All he needed now was...

  Barking came from the direction Hart had taken. When Sam turned his gaze back that way, he saw a dog come loping from the darkness of an alley. The animal was scrawnier and dirtier from living and scrounging on the street, but Sam immediately recognized him as Inu. The dog must have escaped from the arcology, but after the events of this night, Sam barely paused to wonder how the animal should suddenly appear here and now.

  Inu was alone, so perhaps Kiniru remained behind in the arcology. That was just as well. The Akita had never learned to make her own way; she was as dependent on people as he had once been on his corporation. But Inu was a street being and would never forget it.

  Sam crouched, grinning, then let the animal bowl him over with its enthusiastic greeting. After a few minutes of getting reacquainted, the two were trotting down the street again on their way to rescue the fair Lady Tsung.

  Jaq watched her team mask the windows of the Commuter. In minutes, the golden sun would be replaced with the green and silver MCT of Mitsuhama Computer Technologies. Without checking the craft’s registration number, no observer would be able to tell the Commuter from a legitimate member of the Mitsuhama fleet. Her team was very good at this sort of thing.

  The mercs had been paid off, with a handsome tip thrown in. They had performed well enough that she would use them again in the future.

  While the Commuter was being readied, a pair of laborers were building a crate to house the stabilization unit. A freight container would be a lot less conspicuous and easier to bribe past customs than an active stabilization unit holding a deceased doppelganger. When the sound of their hammers stopped abruptly, Jaq turned to find them staring at Mr. Enterich.

  “That’s enough for now, boys,” she said, stepping up. “Coffee break.”

  The workers dropped their tools and vanished.

  Enterich stepped onto the base of the crate from the side that was still open. He stared at the displays. “Dead?”

  “Cold and stiff, courtesy of Sally Tsung.”

  “I was looking forward to acquiring whatever Haesslich had sent it in to get.”

  “Well, he didn’t get it either,” she offered nervously. “We did get a set of three skillsofts that were embedded in a custom subdermal chip mount. Preliminary scans showed them to be compendiums of computer architecture parameters. No doubt they allowed the construct to simulate the real Konrad Hutten’s expertise.”

  Enterich showed no interest.

  “The chips are very well designed. They’re not unique, but I’m sure I can find a market. The sale should offset some of the operation’s expenses.”

  Enterich stared at her with cold, flat eyes. “The doppelganger was the goal of this operation. You were to bring it to me alive.”

  “It wasn’t my fault. Tsung hit it with a spell when I thought she was going after the aircraft. I couldn’t protect it.” She hoped he wouldn’t get too angry. “Maybe there’s something to be learned from the corpse. The stabilization unit should hold the cells intact enough to do DNA assays. The Genomics research labs are good at that.”

  “Let us hope you’re right,” he said, leaning over to gaze into the unit.

  Jaq also crowded in for a look. She frowned, realizing that something about it wasn’t quite right. Then she noticed a mist on the inner surface of the viewing plates. She checked the monitors; the unit was functioning well within operational parameters. The fragging thing should have been stable, but instead the body was starting to decompose.

  Enterich’s fist slammed down on the unit, sending a tracery of cracks through the Transparex. Jaq backed away. Her master was very unhappy.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  When Sam rejoined Ghost and his tribesmen at the rendezvous point, he found that the fair Lady Tsung didn’t need rescuing after all. She was on the radio.

  “Where are you?” Sam asked, not caring who heard the concern in his voice.

  “Riding high,” she answered with a laugh. “Dodger rented us a chopper with a very cooperative pilot. We’ll be putting down near Hillary’s in about twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll see that Cog has a car waiting,” Ghost cut in. “You’re all well?”

  “Willy, Roadrunner, and Eagle Eyes have joined their ancestors.” Sally’s voice was sober now. “The rest of us are still walking. Wouldn’t hurt to have Cog put some med supplies in the car, though.”

  “They’ll be waiting,” Ghost assured her.

  “Wiz! See everyone soon.” She cut the connection.

  Sam threw back his head and sighed. Sally’s safety lifted his worry about having to deal with Renraku again. The trideo Dodger had boosted from the arcology’s security cameras clearly showed Sam leading the raiders. He had no idea how Jaq had managed that trick, but what did it matter?. As far as Renraku was concerned, it was Sam who had led the attack against Pad 23. Thanks to Jaq’s betrayal, his bridges had been well and truly burned behind him.

  His status as an enemy of the corporation was now guaranteed, which meant he’d have been unable to negotiate Sally’s release. Freeing her would have required staging another raid and Sam thanked god it hadn’t been necessary. There’d already been too much damage done and too many lives lost.

  Whatever the price, Sam knew they would have paid it, though. Sally and the others were his family now; his first loyalty was to them. He had left the corporate cocoon behind forever. When he opened his eyes, Ghost was staring at him.

  “How did you manage to get out of the dockyards, Paleface?”

  “Hart helped me. I don’t know why, but she did.”

  “Then Haesslich must be dead.”

  “We both saw him go down into the Sound. I didn’t see him come up. Did you?”

  “We were too busy dodging UniOil heat to see much of anything beyond the way out.”

  Sam was concerned by Ghost’s reserved tone. “Did you have trouble?”

  “No.”

  Ghost’s denial was refuted by the shouts of his tribals. Each vied with the others to recount the most hair-raising encounter of their escape, but all acknowledged that Ghost had been vital to their success. The uproar continued until Dodger showed up.

  The Elf looked haggard, but was still smiling. He and Ghost gripped arms, patting each other on the shoulder. Pleasure lit their faces, but they said not a word. Then Dodger turned to Sam, gripping him by the shoulders and shaking him. Inu barked defensively until Sam shushed him.

  “Sir Twist, I am pleased to see you still with us. Circumstances conspired to make a shambles of your plan, but ‘twould seem that things have turned out well in the end. I prithee, though, ask me not to trespass in Renraku’s Matrix ever again.”

  “I thought you would dare any system. What’s the matter? Your skills slipping?”

  “‘Tis not the loss of my prowess that I fear. ‘Tis what lurks within that icy blue pyramid.”

  “And just what is that?”

  “An artificial intelligence that is beyond their control.”

  “What? Dodger, what are you talking about?”

  Dodger told of his capture and the room of mirrors, his voice becoming hushed as he described the persona construct that echoed his own. Listening to the story of the Elf’s flight and escape, Sam would probably have dismissed the tale if it had come from anyone else. It sounded like another Ghost in the Machine story.

  “Are you sure it was real?” he asked.

  “As real as anything is under the electron skies,” Dodger confirmed gravely.

  “Well, it wasn’t good enough to hold the Dodger. You got out, didn’t you?”

  “In that, you speak true.” The Elf’s mood shifted away from gloom, turning to positive pleasure when Sally led the surviving raiders into the room.

  Sam caught her up in a whirling embrace while Inu danced around them barking. He kissed her, delighting in the warmth of her body. She returned his kiss as though it might be the
last one she’d ever receive. When they broke their embrace, the tribesmen crowded around, eager to hear her tale. While she told it, Sam looked around for Ghost, but he had vanished like his namesake.

  The raiders exchanged tales of their heroism, their shouted boasts and congratulations more an expression of relief that they had lived through another run in the shadows.

  “Party’s on me,” Sally announced suddenly.

  Amid the cheers, Dodger leaned over and whispered to Sam, “The lady’s victory parties are legend.”

  “What victory? Death is no payment for death. It just extends the cycle.”

  “Naetheless, Sir Twist, the sword of justice smote the guilty. The shades of Hanae, Josh Begay, and those benighted runners who worked for Hart understand the rightness of what has been done.”

  “And that’s the victory?”

  “Oh, no,” the Elf laughed, dragging Sam after the departing shadowrunners. “Our victory is the only real one. We survived.”

  At the door of the building, Sam stopped, watching as Sally led the runners down the street in a ragged, rowdy parade. They were dirty and bloodied and had lost good friends, but they laughed. They were exuberant, elated at having defied death and won.

  When several of the tribesmen started a chant, the sound echoed in his head, bringing back snatches of Dog’s song. He realized that the words were a hymn to life, a celebration of possibilities. The song filled him with a joy that he had been denying. Hours ago, he had stared into the jaws of death, yet he had not been dragged down into that darkness. He had survived to return to the shadows, where life poised on a razor edge.

  He understood the runners’ exhilaration now. He was alive! Death and darkness hadn’t claimed him today, and that was more than enough cause for celebration. He felt free. His blood raced and he could no longer hold back. Capering away from Dodger, he spun up the street in a wild dance whose steps he invented as he went along. Inu raced around him, yapping his own excitement.