Stranger Souls

by Jak Koke

  SHADOWRUN : 26

  STRANGER SOULS

  Book 1 of the Dragon Heart Saga

  Jak Koke

  For Mom and Dad ... who taught me how to learn, showed me how to live, and instilled in me the drive to realize my dreams.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many thanks to my wife, Seana Davidson, who is not only my constant support and companion, but also my collaborator in the generation of ideas, the first reader of my early drafts, and a sensitive critic. Every writer needs a critic who is sympathetic to his or her moods and emotions; Seana is perceptive and resolute without being excessively harsh or overly lenient.

  Credit should also go to Mike Mulvihill for his expert development of the Shadowrun universe, and especially for his help on the plots and characters in this trilogy. I'd also like to thank Jonathan Bond, Marsh Cassady, Jim Kitchen, Nicole Brown, and Tom Lindell for their insightful critiques of the manuscript. And finally, my appreciation goes to Donna Ippolito at FASA and to Jenni Smith at ROC for producing an excellent line of Shadowrun novels.

  Prologue

  The year is 2057.

  Magic has returned to the earth after an absence of many thousands of years. What the Mayan calendar called the Fifth World has given way to the Sixth, a new cycle of magic, marked by the waking of the great dragon Ryumyo in the year 2011. The Sixth World is an age of magic and technology. An Awakened age.

  The rising magic has caused the archaic races to re-emerge. Metahumanity. First came the elves, tall and slender with pointed ears and almond eyes. They were born to human parents just as were dwarfs shortly thereafter. Then later came the orks and the trolls, some born changed, like elves and dwarfs, but others goblinized—transformed from human form into their true nature as the rising magic activated their DNA. Manifesting as larger bodies, heavily muscled with tusked mouths and warty skin.

  Even the most ancient and intelligent of beings, the great dragons, have come out of their long hiding. Only a few of these creatures are known to exist, and most of them have chosen a life of isolation and secrecy. But some, able to assume human form, have integrated themselves into the affairs of metahumanity. They have used their ancient intellect, their powerful magic, and their innate cunning to ascend to positions of power. One is known to own and run Saeder-Krupp—the largest megacorporation in the world. Another—Dunkelzahn—claims to seek the improvement of the metahuman condition and has just been elected to the presidency of the United Canadian and American States.

  The Sixth World is a far cry from the mundane environment of the Fifth. It is exotic and strange, a paradoxical blend of the scientific and the arcane. The advance of technology has reached a feverish pace. The distinction between man and machine is becoming blurred by the advent of direct neural interfacing. Cyberware. Machine and computer implants are commonplace, making metal of flesh, pulsing electrons into neurons at the speed of thought. People of the Sixth World are a new breed—stronger, smarter, faster. Less human.

  The Matrix has grown like a phoenix out of the ashes of the old global computer network. A virtual world of computer-generated reality has emerged, a universe of electrons and CPU cycles controlled and manipulated by those with the fastest cyber decks, with the hottest new code.

  It is an era where information is power, where data and money are one and the same. Multinational megacorporations have replaced superpower governments as the true forces on the planet. In a world where cities have grown into huge sprawls of concrete and steel, walled-off corporate enclaves and massive arcologies have superseded two-car garages, vegetable gardens, and white picket fences. The megacorps exploit masses of wageslaves for the profit of a lucky and ruthless few.

  But in the shadows of the mammoth corporate arcologies, live the SINless. Those without System Identification Numbers are not recognized by the machinery of society, by the bureaucracy that has grown so massive and complex that nobody understands it completely. Among the SINless are the shadowrunners, traffickers in stolen data and hot information, mercenaries of the street—discreet, effective, and untraceable.

  The Sixth World is full of surprises, not the least of which is the recent election of the great, gregarious dragon, Dunkelzahn, to the presidency of the United Canadian and American States. Never before has a great dragon been elected to run a country. Never before have so many been so polarized about the results. Many people are ecstatic, enthusiastic, and optimistic about Dunkelzahn's ability to bring hope and faith back into their lives. But just as many are envious and resentful, full of hatred toward the wyrm.

  As the magic level continues its inexorable rise, Dunkelzahn has attracted a great many enemies with his high-profile campaign. Some think he has gained too much power. Some are afraid of what he might do next.

  9 August 2057

  1

  The ancient amusement park tower stuck into the Texas sky like a rusty needle, its tip piercing the sliver of the low-hanging moon. A presence climbed the scarred metal ladder of the long-dead tower in silence and darkness, a droplet of black ink moving against gravity. A shadow, unnoticed in the night.

  A hundred meters up, Ryan Mercury clipped his safety harness to a metal rung and took several deep breaths to center himself. Ryan was large for a human, just over two meters tall and weighing in at a dense 130 kilos, all of it well-conditioned muscle, magically enhanced and accelerated flesh. No cyber, no bio. Not so much as a datajack for this chummer.

  Ryan's coppery red hair was tucked into the skin-tight black hood of his plycra nightsuit. He was deep undercover behind the Aztlan border, and if discovered would be tortured and killed. His olive skin was painted in monochromatic black and white to hide the shadows of his face—the recognizable shape of his sharp nose, the hewn angle of his jawbone, the glint of his silver-flecked blue eyes. He leaned slightly against his harness, testing its strength.

  The heat of the night air baked around him, bringing a prickle of sweat to his brow. Trying to ignore it, he studied the scene down below through his night binoculars.

  Far beneath him, down the hill from the tower he had climbed, work crews excavated the bottom of the lake. Underwater lights glowed below the crystal clear water, twenty meters down. Crews in wetsuits and submarines dug and cleared away the limestone, vacuuming out the silt as it was stirred up by the trenchers.

  Where is it? he thought. Did they really find one?

  Then Ryan saw it, a smooth black surface, unmarred and perfect. The submarines cleaned the river dirt and blasted rock from the obsidian glass as he watched. The rock seemed to absorb the light from the flood lamps, leaving nothing to reflect. And, as the crews continued, Ryan saw the rock take shape. Its edge was perfectly flat, cut like a gemstone, and obviously created by man or some other sentience, before being buried here long ago. This was no naturally occurring rock. And it was huge, at least ten meters on a side, and seemed to be diamond-shaped, though Ryan had no idea what it would look like once they'd finished the excavation.

  Ryan's gut sank as he watched. I'd better tell Dunkelzahn, he thought. The dragon will want to know right away. Even if this is inauguration night.

  Dunkelzahn had sent Ryan here on the suspicion that Aztechnology—the corporation that owned the Aztlan government—was searching for a Locus. A Locus, as far as Ryan understood it, was an ancient and extremely powerful magical lens that channeled arcane energies through manalines.

  Ryan was Dunkelzahn's most trusted undercover operative. The dragon himself had orchestrated Ryan's instruction into the magic of body motion and the senses, teaching him the powers of a physical adept. Dunkelzahn had shown Ryan the Silent Way—the path of stealth and disguise. Of crucial action behind the scenes.

  Ryan's current mission was explicit, not subject to interpretation. "If you dis
cover that Darke has found a Locus," Dunkelzahn had said, "you must contact me immediately. Understand, Ryanthusar? Immediately."

  Ryan wasn't absolutely certain that this black stone was really a Locus, but it matched the description Dunkelzahn had given him. Close enough to give him the chills when he looked at it. And Ryan never questioned Dunkelzahn's instructions. Never.

  Which means I make contact now, he thought. Regardless of the fact that it puts me at great risk.

  Ryan put his binoculars back into his belt case, then he tipped his wrist toward him and punched up the private LTG number for Black Angel, also known as Carla Brooks—

  Dunkelzahn's head of security. She would know how to connect him with Dunkelzahn.

  After a moment Brooks answered, her voice hushed and urgent. "Quicksilver, is that you?"

  His wristphone would have transmitted his identity. "Yes."

  "Verify."

  Ryan punched an encryption code into his wristphone. "Thank you. Our decker reports this line is clean."

  "Good, Black Angel. Connect me with Dark Tooth, I must speak with him immediately."

  "This is a bad time. Dark Tooth is otherwise occupied."

  "It's urgent."

  "It better be."

  Ryan looked back down to the excavation site, to the encampment of security forces and military armament next to the river. "I'm in a vulnerable position, Black Angel," he said. His gaze tracked from the encampment up to the step-pyramid teocalli that overlooked the water. "I wouldn't have called if it wasn't extremely important."

  Brooks sighed. "Frag," she said. "All right, I'll connect you."

  Ryan understood her reluctance. Nobody wanted the task of interrupting a great dragon—regardless of what he was doing, regardless of the importance.

  The background hiss grew louder as Brooks patched him through. He could hear the white noise of loud conversation, music, and celebration. "Ryanthusar?" came the voice of a human male with a nondescript accent, but the overlay indicated that this human was speaking through Dunkelzahn's phone. For security purposes, the video was blanked.

  The dragon must be in human form for the inauguration ceremonies. "Master, I have to report. I think Darke has unearthed a Locus."

  The noise of conversation dulled, then subsided into the background as Ryan heard the click of a closing door. Dunkelzahn's voice was clearer now, "Where are you?"

  "San Marcos, forty klicks south of the CAS border in Austin."

  "That is a likely junction," Dunkelzahn said. "Describe the item to me."

  Ryan told him of the lake, emerging crystal clear from springs, water like liquid glass. He told the dragon of the work crews and the heavy security that surrounded the site, and he described what he could see of the huge rock. Its smooth surface like a geometric black hole, sucking in light.

  "Quickly look at its aura, Ryanthusar. Tell me what you see."

  Ryan stared down at the scene below. He focused for a second, concentrating on the shift of perception into the astral plane. Physical objects blurred, the black and gray of the night images giving way to the brilliantly colored landscape of the astral. Life force gave off light in the astral plane—auras that were unique to each creature and object. Magical creatures and items were the brightest, but everything had an aura of some sort.

  The aura of the Locus was distorted slightly by the living matter in the water above it, but still it was unmistakable. The rock glowed dully, a deep violet, and across its surface shone a tracery of gold lines. That was orichalcum, a massive quantity if those veins passed through the whole stone. The gold veins pulsed, glowing brightly before subsiding again. A moment later they pulsed once more, a very slow beat, like the heart of a sleeping giant. And as Ryan described the rock to Dunkelzahn, the dragon's questions grew more and more urgent.

  Ryan had never heard Dunkelzahn so obviously disturbed by anything. The dragon had always been inquisitive and calm, a concerned observer without being reactionary. Only lately had he shown genuine urgency. It was as though something seriously scared him, a notion that was preposterous to Ryan. What could he possibly be afraid of? Whatever it was must be extremely powerful.

  "The device as you describe it," Dunkelzahn said, "is not fully active, but it may soon be so." Ryan heard the dragon take a slow breath. "Here's what you will do," Dunkelzahn continued. "Return immediately and talk with Black Angel. Instructions from me will await you. I will not have time to meet with you personally, but this next assignment will be the most important of your life."

  Another voice cut in. "Excuse me, sir, but I've detected a delay glitch in the transmission." It was Jane-in-the-box, the decker who was monitoring the connection to ensure confidentiality. "We are no longer secure. Repeat, we are not secure."

  Dunkelzahn finished, "The fate of our world rides on this next mission of yours, Ryanthusar. Be careful and do not fail me."

  "Of course."

  "Faith and luck go with you, my child," Dunkelzahn said, and he disconnected.

  Ryan was stunned. The fate of the world? Frag me, Dunkelzahn, what does that mean ?

  Ryan might've chalked up what Dunkelzahn had said to the melodrama of the moment—the dragon was known to be melodramatic. But he had never been so with Ryan; Dunkelzahn had always been genuine with him.

  In the distance, Ryan heard the rhythmic beat of an approaching helicopter. He sucked in a breath and glanced around. There it was, off to his left, an insectlike machine sweeping the area with its floodlight feeler brushing the ground. Back and forth. Approaching rapidly.

  Time to fly.

  Ryan undipped his tether from the metal rung and placed his soft-booted feet on the outside of the ladder, holding himself in place with his hands. He slowly eased himself down, beginning a semi-controlled slide, using his feet to guide his fall. Using his magic to maintain perfect balance. He watched the ladder through his feet as his speed increased, growing and growing until the rungs sped past. His hands and feet grew hot from the friction as he plummeted, a controlled free fall. It was a hundred meters down and the wooded hillside below was pitch-black.

  Ryan dropped, sliding like a droplet of black oil down the side of the old rusty needle as the rhythmic thunder of the helo's blades grew louder and louder. The sweat on his neck grew chill as he fell, sending prickles over his skin. There was something pure about movement and magically enhanced physics. Something primal and ultimately satisfying, like sex.

  The thrill within Ryan stepped up a notch as the column of light from the helo's searchlight grazed the tower just above him. The helo's engines roared in his ears, its wind cool and fresh over his falling body. Ryan concentrated. Only a few more seconds and he would be down, amid the cover of trees and undergrowth. The world flashed bright around him for an instant as the helo's searchlight caught him. A freeze-frame microsecond. Then it went black again as he fell through the circle into the growing darkness.

  They're close, he thought. Too close.

  His ears caught shouts from the helo, and the light scanned along the tower above him as the insect-machine pivoted back around to his side. They would pin him down in seconds.

  Ryan concentrated as the concrete platform loomed up beneath him. He was going too fast to stop. Still, he increased the pressure of his feet and hands against the ladder to slow his descent. It wouldn't be enough, but it might prevent him from breaking his legs. His heart resonated through him like a palpable drumbeat. One, gloved fingers gripping flaking metal. Two, hot dry wind slapping him in the face as he looked down and knew he was going too fast.

  Three, they had him. Centered in the column of light.

  Gunshots sputtered, the sound sharp as bullets ricocheted off the tower. Luckily, none hit home.

  Got to get out of their slotting light.

  Ryan kicked off from the ladder, pushing himself away as hard as he could. He jumped away from the tower, trying to get enough outward momentum to clear the raised concrete platform and land in the trees. Lurching out of the h
elo's light, pivoting in the air in a desperate attempt, a last-ditch maneuver to escape. But he was falling too fast.

  Like a droplet of black rain against the dark sky. Waiting for the impact, but not knowing how far he had to fall. Not knowing whether or not he was about to splatter against the unyielding earth.

  Counting the beats of his heart before the end.

  2

  She stood tall and beautiful, a goddess of alabaster and emerald. An elegant evening dress clung to her slender form like a sequined glove. Its color was deep green, almost black, and it shimmered as she moved. Her raven hair hung straight and full to her waist, and her eyes glinted green like deep-set emeralds. She smiled demurely, her seductive lips a pale burgundy. The sculpted shadows of her face highlighted her elven features—high cheekbones, a narrow nose, and ears that rose to a delicate point. All of it one hundred percent natural, no cosmetic or technological enhancements. No artificial flavors or colors.

  Her name was Nadja Daviar, and she was the voice of the great dragon Dunkelzahn. When she spoke, the mostly male crowd around her became entranced. Her voice was deep and resonant, smooth and silky, utterly accentless. Her speech was mesmerizing and musical, befitting a great dragon who was ancient beyond reckoning, supremely intelligent and wise. Charisma radiated from her, casting a spell over the gathering of politicians and megacorporate executives around her.

  Nadja found herself feeling alone for the first time since before the inauguration. She wasn't truly alone, of course, considering the press of metahumanity in the Watergate Hotel's Grand Ballroom around her, most of whom wanted to get close to her and Dunkelzahn. No, Nadja felt alone because Dunkelzahn had excused himself a few minutes earlier, in the middle of a tango with her. They had moved so well together on the dance floor, the dragon superbly in command of his human form. The crowd had watched at first, awestruck. Then they had joined in.