Shadowrun 45 - Aftershock

by Jean Rabe, John Helfers (v1. 0) (epub)

  “Yeah, turn a couple of cartwheels in the aisle, why don’t you?” Sindje staggered up, bent double under the weight of a four-pack of large potted plants. Hood and Khase each leapt forward and grabbed a pot.

  “This isn’t a race, woman.” Hood carefully set his orange and yellow-hued flower down and picked up his bow from where it had been leaning against the wall.

  Sindje set the other two pots down and wiped her brow.

  “Really? Tell that to the goon squad looking to smear us into wet red paste if they get a chance.”

  “I’ve got the door!” Max let out a long sigh of relief, just as the elevator chimed at the end of the hall.

  “Max, open it and duck.” Hood aimed at the elevator doors at the far end of the hall as the main greenhouse exit began to open. A red light glowed about twenty meters away in the darkness. As soon as he saw the light flash, the troll released his arrow, the tip piercing the metal elevator frame with a thunk. All four of them heard a muffled curse from inside. The door opened a few inches, hit the arrow shaft, and began to close again.

  “Wiz, very wiz.” Khase whistled in admiration.

  “It won’t hold them long. Max, get those carts in here and start loading. Khase, Sindje, take care of the squad, and remember—no geeking.”

  “Yes, tad.” Sindje’s eyes glowed with mystical power. “Y’all might want to stay away from the doors for a bit— some overzealous sec goon might put a bullet or two in here while they ‘arrest’ us.” She glanced at her brother. “What’s the plan—go out, or let them come in?”

  “One who takes position first at the battleground and awaits the enemy is at ease,” the elven adept replied.

  “You know, you could have just said ‘let them come to us.’ ” The mage touched her brother on the shoulder and he faded from sight. “Take them in the hallway.”

  “Aw, sis, that’s not even fair.” The sound of his monowhip sliding free rasped from where Khase stood unseen.

  Sindje’s reply was clipped. “Maybe not, but they have guns, and you ain’t bulletproof yet, brawd.”

  With a screech of rending metal, the elevator doors finally opened, and a squad of helmeted and body-armored sec men spilled into the hallway, each one covering the next as they leapfrogged up the corridor, firearms at the ready.

  “Hmm, not your standard wage slaves. These boys have a modicum of talent.” Khase’s voice came out of thin air. “Ready when you are, Sindje.”

  The elven mage ducked under a table, her voice distant due to her concentration on the men in the corridor. “Just—one second.” From her vantage point in front of the glass-paned double doors, Sindje had an unobstructed view of the five guards taking the hallway. “Eeek, they’ve got a troll on payroll. Khase, watch out for him. He’ll spot you first.” Scanning them quickly, she found what she needed. “Ahh, there you are.”

  “INTRUDERS IN THE GREENHOUSE! THIS IS PLANTECH SECURITY! YOU ARE SURROUNDED!” blared a voice from a speaker mounted somewhere above.

  “All that noise can’t be good for the plants,” Hood said, frowning. He squinted and searched the glass ceiling.

  “Or good for my focus.” Sindje held out her hands and cast, her fingers curling as if she were holding something. In the hallway, a guard’s sidearm extracted itself from his unsecured thigh holster and floated in front of the elevator. Frowning, Sindje concentrated on the mana, pantomiming with her hands. In response, the handgun’s slide pulled back, chambering a round, then slid forward. Mana, the very essence of magic, flowed from the metaplanes to this world, surrounding everything with an invisible field of energy. Those who could tap into that energy, like Sindje, could intuitively manipulate it into all kinds of useful spells.

  “PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND EXIT THE ROOM ONE AT A TIME, HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD, LYING DOWN IN THE HALL!—”

  There was a whir, and as if by magic an arrow shaft protruded from a speaker grill. A brief spray of sparks popped from the housing, and the commanding voice was cut off midword.

  “Much better.” Hood ducked down, looking for Sindje. “Ready?”

  A pair of lambent green eyes blazed in the darkness under the table. Sindje’s eerie voice wafted forth as she held her imaginary pistol and squeezed the air trigger. ‘‘Showtime ...”

  A flurry of gunshots sounded in the hallway behind the security squad. The unexpected attack threw the five guards into confusion:

  “—Who’s firing? Cease fire! Cease fire, frag it!—” “—Unknown hostiles behind us—”

  “—Get down! Cover, take cover!—”

  “—Is anyone hit?—”

  Nothing happened for a second, then the members of the squad began to behave very oddly indeed. The lead member, who was lying on the floor still trying to draw a bead on anyone in the greenhouse, found his HK 227X submachine gun wrenched up toward the ceiling. The stock and barrel of his gun split in half, accompanied by a high-pitched screech of monofilament on metal and plastic.

  “Hostile is here—” was all he said before his face ricocheted off the floor tile as he was punched into it, rendering him unconscious.

  The second man, who had been kneeling behind his partner, did a decent job of trying to cover the unseen enemy with his weapon, but also to no avail. His helmet popped off, and before he could react, his head slammed into the wall. Without a sound, he slumped down to the floor, also out cold.

  “Target is invisible,” the troll grunted.

  “Go to ultrasound!” the lone guard nearest the elevator ordered. Two of the remaining three guards flipped lenses down on their visors, and the troll started to bring his modified Mossberg CM-AMDT short-barreled auto shotgun back around from where he had been covering the elevator.

  But Khase was already moving.

  “I’ve got him!” one of the second pair of guards said, tracking the elf’s movement with his subgun. “He’s on the wall!” In his excitement he triggered his weapon, sending three rounds into the ceiling.

  Sindje’s heart leapt into her throat fearing for her brother, but her concern was unwarranted. The guard reeled from an unseen blow, the visor on his helmet shattering as he sailed down the hall, impacting the elevator with a crash and dropping to the floor. The guard’s weapon hovered in midair for a second while the troll guard stepped forward, blocking half of the hallway as he leveled his shotgun.

  “Drop it!” The troll’s guttural voice echoed in the passageway. “Now!”

  The submachine gun flew through the air at the troll’s head, but he instinctively ducked out of the way. His shotgun swiveled right, for all appearances tracking nothing, but then his eyes bulged and he collapsed to his knees, one massive hand clutching his privates. The shotgun clattered to the floor, forgotten. Globs of vomit spewed as he hunched over in agony.

  Still, the troll had delayed Khase just long enough to let the fifth member of the sec team get the drop on him. Sindje saw the human cover seemingly empty air with his subgun. “Freeze! Twitch, and I’ll paint the wall with your brains. K-Tog, you all right?”

  “I’ll be—fine—just get the cuffs on this—drekhead,” the troll wheezed, looking for his shotgun while gingerly trying to get to his feet.

  “Hood!” Sindje was already casting, curling her fingers into a fist and cocking her arm.

  “I’m on it.” Hood loosed an arrow that hit the guard’s weapon, distracting him and knocking it off target. Sindje followed that up with what she called her “mage-slap,” a kinetic spell that knocked the human backward. He fell to the floor and didn’t move. Meanwhile, the troll guard had just gotten his hands on his Mossberg and was about to get up when his head was rocked back and forth by a rapid series of hard blows. He swayed, blood dripping from his bulbous mouth.

  “This is gonna hurt,” Sindje said, dropping the invisibility spell in time to see Khase execute a flying front kick to the troll’s face, snapping the monstrous head back and sending the huge guard crashing to the floor. The impact made the entire hallway quiver. The elven adept
scanned the rest of the motionless sec team, making sure no one else was a threat. Grinning back at the others, he flashed a thumbs-up.

  “Time to go!” Khase was already dragging the bodies of two sec men over to the door. Hood, you grab your own, bad enough I almost broke my foot on his face. Max, you got those elevator cameras derezzed?”

  “Done, but I don’t know how long my prog will hold, so let’s get our hoops gone.” She bent over the squad leader, holding his face close to her own while she thumbed an eyelid back. “Say cheese, sweetmeat. Got it. Now, how you gettin’ us out of here?”

  Hood began stripping the troll of his uniform. “I figured we’ll stroll right past the guards in the lobby and drive out of the garage, if that’s okay with you.”

  Two minutes later the four-man squad pushed a pair of tall racks and a cart full of plants into the elevator, the troll carrying one of the unconscious sec guards over his shoulder. With the plants all inside, it was a tight fit. Only the troll went visorless; his horns made it impossible to fit any kind of helmet over his head.

  “Going down.” Khase hit the lobby floor button, while Hood tossed the broken shaft of an arrow out into the hallway before the doors closed.

  “Squad Four to lobby, we are evacing with injured, please have Crashcart standing by for removal,” Hood said into his exterior mike.

  There was a hiss of static, then a reply: “We copy, Squad Four, personnel standing by.”

  The ride took less than thirty seconds to the lobby floor. The door opened to blinding halogen spotlights, and the squad filed out, towing the racks behind them.

  “K-Tog, Squad Four,” the troll said, shielding his eyes. “Our lead took a powerbolt to the chest, might have fractures. Fragging mages.” The troll handed over the unconscious man, then looked back to the lobby leader.

  “Report, officer,” the human guard in charge said. “Estimate at least five hostiles trapped in the greenhouse. We managed to retrieve the more valuable plants it looked like they were trying to steal, but then Morgan took that shot and we evaced out just as Squad Two came up— Shouts and the sounds of a - heavy firefight suddenly erupted on every commlink among the sec forces. “Main level, main level, this is Squad Two requesting immediate backup! Have engaged hostiles and are taking heavy fire, repeat heavy fire—” the low roar of what sounded like a burst of flame was heard over the channel, and the transmission cut off.

  The lobby leader snapped his fingers and grabbed his subgun, pinning the troll with his eyes. “You four, come back up with us—”

  “SOP states that we must secure any at-risk flora outside the greenhouse before it is contaminated by contact with an unfiltered environment.” The troll glanced at the two racks and cart of plants. “We’ll get these stowed and join you back on thirty ASAP.”

  The lobby leader gave a resigned huff. “Affirmative. Squad Three, you’re with me. Squad One, secure the perimeter. No one leaves.” The leader took off for the elevator, and the troll and his three companions headed for the shaft that led to the underground levels and the garage, pushing the racks and cart ahead of them.

  Inside the elevator, Max handed off her rack to Hood and her fingers began dancing again. “How much time we got?”

  “Figure less than a minute for them to get up there and notice that there isn’t any fight going on, and another thirty seconds to clear the greenhouse and realize they’ve been had. We’ll have some seriously fragged sec hot on our tail in about two minutes tops.” Hood slid his bow and quiver out from in between two rows of bushy plants on the cart. He kept them in front of him as he moved to block the camera mounted in the back of the elevator, hiding the fact that they were going to the garage.

  “No problem.” Max keyed in one last command. “I love maintenance progs. Love ’em, love ’em, love ’em. Okay, it’s ready.”

  “We’re here. Keep your helmets on until we’re clear, and get that eyeball ready.” Hood led the three other “guards” to a nondescript, battered, gunmetal-gray Ares Roadmaster.

  “Mmm, plascrete and gasoline, my favorite smells,” Sindje said, wrinkling her nose as she and Khase opened the back doors and unloaded plants into the cargo area. Max jumped into the driver’s seat. Hood handed off the last of the plants and stepped inside, his bulk causing the van to tilt back a few inches before settling down.

  “Frag, Hood, you’re so big I oughta make you jog back.” Max stabbed a finger at the elevator doors, causing every light on the level to wink out. The sound of activating mag-locks echoed across the garage. “Good thing I had these seats reinforced. Still can’t believe you talked me into using my own ride.”

  “I promised we wouldn’t put a scratch on it. Now go!” Hood made his way through the miniature jungle in the back of the van to the passenger seat and rolled down the window, listening and watching for any sign of pursuit. Max backed up the Ares and headed for the steel exit gate.

  “This eyespy program that drek hacker sold me better work—” She let the rest of her sentence trail off as she readied her AR gloves.

  “It will.” Hood leaned back in his seat, making it creak in protest under his weight.

  The van rolled up to the security checkpoint, and three pairs of eyes riveted on the ork. Max’s index finger twitched. “Downloading the retina image now . . . hacking into the scanner program to overlay it . . . eventually.”

  A light blue beam of light shot out from a scanner, playing over Max’s eyes. She sat stone still, letting the beam read her retina. Seconds ticked away, yet nothing happened.

  “Should it take—” The troll’s question was answered by (he security gate rolling up, and a pleasant automated voice saying, “Good night, Mr. Touchstone. Security level three has been engaged. There is a matter on floor thirty that requires your attention. Shall I open a channel to the guards on scene?”

  Max stabbed the air with her gloves and spluttered in a voice that sounded exactly like the head of the squad that had been taken out, “No!—uh, no. That’s unnecessary, I’ll contact them myself. Uh—thank you.”

  “Very well. Have a good evening, Mr. Touchstone.” Although the Roadmaster was built for power rather than speed, Max nearly laid rubber as she squealed out of the garage.

  “Hey, careful! Our Johnson said nothing about payment for dead plants.” Hood checked their cargo, seeing Khase and Sindje contorted in strange postures as they each held two pots upright. “Good work, everyone, I think we just scored a clean run.”

  “Clean?” Max snorted in derision. “Clean? Who’s your maid. Hood?”

  Bright halogen headlights speared through the dark streets and lit up the Roadmaster’s mirrors, causing Max and Hood to shield their eyes from the glare. Two pairs of Nissan Stealth motorcycles flanked the Roadmaster, engines screaming as they accelerated. All four riders drew compact machine pistols and aimed at the van’s sides.

  “Frag it, Hood, this run’s been anything but clean.” Sindje glared at him from her position on the floor. “And it ain’t getting better, either!”

  Max gunned the engine and cut across a deserted intersection, tires squawking on the pavement as she caught the cycles by surprise. “Whatever you’re gonna do, make it fast. They’ll be back on our hoops in a sec!”

  3

  3:13:35 a.m.

  " 'Just drive straight!” Hood growled. “The Johnson’ll shove an empty credstick ...”

  “Yeah, I know,” Max shot back. “If these plants don’t arrive in perfect shape, no nuyen. That is the least of my worries at the moment.”

  She rolled up the window as a squeal cut through the air. Two of the pursuing cycles took the lead, while the other two held position a short way back. One of the closer pair of Stealths gained on her Roadmaster, its front wheel popping up and sparks flying as the rear fender scraped against the street. She floored the accelerator, tapped her left turn signal and then cranked the wheel hard right, leaving the highway. Her simple ploy didn’t work this time, the cycles stuck hard on her tail. Max wove
from one side of the road to the other, trying to keep them from pulling alongside. The cycles’ halogen headlights flashed white in her rearview mirror as they wove in and out behind her.

  “Many of these will bruise easily, Max. Please try to take care.” Hood had squeezed into the cargo area and managed to position himself so his back was to the driver’s seat. His legs were curled, heels meeting, so his legs formed a large “O” that he’d nested some of the more valuable plants in. His right hand gripped a panel of the van, and his left arm was stretched to support some delicate-looking vegetation in a tray. Khase braced his back against another tray to keep the plants in it from tipping over.

  The ork snorted and glanced at her side mirror. “Bruise, Hood? If those sec goons catch us we'll be more than bruised. We’ll be mulch.” She swore under her breath, a string of rasping words in a language she was certain the troll and the elves didn’t know. Both hands tight on the wheel, she bit her lip, her fangs sinking into the skin as the Roadmaster’s engine wheezed with the sudden strain. She saw the second cycle catch up to the first, and she stomped the accelerator a little harder, clicking her teeth together. The engine made a popping sound and she raised her voice. “This van’s as close to new as I’ll ever own, Hood. You promised—”

  “If you just drive straight you’ll keep your van—and the plants—from getting hurt!” The troll snarled when they hit a pothole, sending everyone into the air for a moment. His horns thumped against the roof of the van, denting it. A plant in an oval-shaped pot tipped over, spilling dirt on Khase.

  “Dammit, Hood! If you’ve—Incoming!” Max whipped the wheel to the right again, just as bullets ripped into the van’s left side, punching through the stamped metal door and the driver’s window, spraying safety glass across the front seats. Max howled and kept going right, brushing the Roadmaster against the cycle coming up on her right side and sending it up on the sidewalk.

  “Watch it!” This came from Sindje. The elf was crouched at the rear of the van, her head raised just enough so she could peek out the back window. “Can’t kill anyone, Max. Can’t afford that heat.”