Fallen Angels

by Stephen Kenson

  The newcomers were a man and a woman. He wore a tailor-made suit with a silk tie and a forest green shirt. The tie’s neo-Celtic pattern was popular in Tir Tairngire. Everything about him, from his clothes to his neatly trimmed and styled blond hair to his controlled smile said he was a man of power and influence.

  The woman wore a crisp, tailored skirt and blouse, but instead of a blazer she sported a deep blue robe, its edges and hem stitched with complex, intertwining elven script. A magician, Orion thought, a corporate wagemage.

  Orion felt a chill come over him. The run was compromised, and he was a prisoner. All shadowrunners knew they risked death, but that was the least of the things that could go wrong. The worst nightmare for a shadowrunner was capture, because shadowrunners were nonentities. Their employers wouldn’t acknowledge their existence, and society didn’t care what happened to them. A captured shadowrunner could be interrogated, killed or worse, and there would be no hope of respite or rescue, unless he had friends who were willing to put their own lives on the line, or who were in high enough places. Please, Orion thought, please don’t let Kellan be foolish enough to come after me.

  "There’s no need to make our guest uncomfortable," the other man said to Javin, "unless he proves uncooperative. Please"—he gestured to a table in the midst of the room, flanked by two chairs—"sit down." Javin practically tossed Orion into the chair, but he slumped there gratefully as he tried to get his bearings. The other man sat across the table from him, like they were meeting for an ordinary business discussion.

  "Do you know who I am?" he asked, and Orion looked closer at him, thinking back on the briefing documents he’d gone over with Kellan and Midnight, the background data on the run.

  "Telestrian," he muttered. "James Telestrian."

  "Very good," the elf answered with a slight nod. "So if you know that, you also know why you are here. Who hired you?"

  "I don’t know what you’re talking about," Orion replied.

  When Javin jammed the stun baton into his ribs, he was caught completely by surprise. Orion involuntarily cried out and fell off the chair, doubling up on the floor as the electrical charge burned through his nerves, setting them on fire with pain. He gasped for air as the initial surge of pain passed, leaving a dull, burning ache in its place.

  Telestrian shook his head sadly. "I told you," he said, "there’s no need for you to be uncomfortable, unless you choose to remain uncooperative." He nodded toward Javin, and the elf grabbed Orion and roughly hauled him up, dropping him back in the chair.

  Telestrian glanced at the bored-looking elf woman standing behind him, nearer to the door.

  "Well?" he asked, and she shrugged.

  "He’s an adept," she pronounced, "but I don’t see any etheric connections to anything apart from that sword, or any significant mystic defenses."

  Telestrian turned back to Orion. "Do you understand what that means?" he asked, and Orion mutely shook his head.

  "Ms. Othorien here is a mage of no small skill. If I ask her to, she can take what I want to know directly from your mind." Orion felt a cramp of fear that dampened the aftershock of the stun baton, but he forced himself to remain outwardly calm.

  "Why don’t you, then?" he asked.

  "Because the process is . . . not pleasant," Telestrian replied. "In fact, it’s difficult, and can do some permanent damage. I also needed Ms. Othorien to evaluate you and make sure you didn’t have any magical defenses that would complicate things. I’d prefer to handle this the easy way, but it’s up to you."

  Orion’s head slumped forward, his arms hugged across his chest. He bit his lower lip. He didn’t know much about magic, but he figured Telestrian was telling the truth. Even he couldn’t hold out against a mage forever; sooner or later, she would break down his defenses, and just take whatever she needed to know. There would be nothing Orion could do about it. He slowly raised his eyes to meet Telestrian’s cool, even gaze.

  "Go to hell," he said.

  Javin stepped in with the stun baton again and Orion tensed, ready to move. If he put up a fight, maybe Telestrian’s hired muscle would be forced to kill him, or would at least do enough damage that the wagemage wouldn’t be able to get anything out of him.

  Before Javin could bring the stun baton into contact with Orion a second time, a trilling musical tone sounded from the inside of Telestrian’s jacket, and he held up a hand to stall Javin’s attack. Orion remained poised, watching for a better opening. Telestrian took a phone from his pocket and answered it, eyes narrowing in annoyance.

  "What is it? I said no interruptions." He listened for a moment. Orion couldn’t make out what the other party was saying, but it seemed to catch the elfs interest.

  "Does he, indeed?" Telestrian replied, sounding bemused. "All right, arrange it. I’ll be there in a moment." He put the phone away and stood, straightening his jacket and glancing at Orion.

  "I’m afraid we’ll need to postpone our chat for a little while," he said. "But it will give you time to consider your answers, and your attitude, for when we resume." He turned, closely followed by Ms. Othorien, then Javin. The elven bodyguard gave Orion a backward glance as he headed out the door, and his lips curled into a predatory smile. Orion had no doubt that Javin would kill him at the earliest opportunity, and enjoy it, which actually gave him a strange measure of hope. If he could provoke Javin, he had a chance to end his captivity. The door closed and locked behind them, and Orion was left alone.

  He returned to the cot and collapsed, his side still aching from the stun baton hit. He did his best to try to rest, since he would need his strength to deal with what came next.

  Please, he thought again, please just let Midnight get Kellan out of here and back to Seattle.

  * * *

  "What if they don’t come?" Kellan asked.

  "They will," Midnight replied calmly. "Don’t worry."

  Kellan lapsed back into silence. The comment struck her as funny in a horrible way. Don’t worry? Of course not, what was there to worry about? They were only stuck in a foreign country with one of the most powerful local corporations on their tails and no sure way of getting out of the city and back to Seattle, where they might still have to deal with an angry fixer, and Orion . . .

  Kellan took a deep, shuddery breath. Not now, she thought. No crying. She couldn’t start thinking about Orion or she wasn’t going to be of any use to anyone. But her mind and her heart refused to cooperate. Midnight had been right—they had to leave him behind. If Telestrian Industries had raided their safe house, there was nothing they could have done to help him by going back. Even though their decision made good, logical sense, she still felt like they’d abandoned him, left him to his fate so that they could get away. Now he was in the corp’s hands, assuming they didn’t just . . .

  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."
<
br />   "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 Telestrian’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 Telestrian’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."

  Chapter 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 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 fine 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 tirelessly 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.