by Jak Koke
Lethe's voice took on the cautious tone Burnout had noticed him using whenever he was beginning to fall behind Burnout's logic. "She would signal the car to pick her up?"
Burnout laughed. "Fragging right. And when that car stopped, what's the next thing she would have done?"
"I think I begin to see your reasoning. She would have notified the authorities of our activities."
"Score one for the spirit. I think you're getting it. You see, even if she hadn't been a smuggler, I'd still have had to geek her to keep Mercury from picking up our trail."
Another long pause. "That is, of course, where your reasoning goes astray."
Burnout grunted and slowed the Bison to maneuver around some deep potholes. "Astray? And what do you mean? My logic is rock-solid. I had to do what I had to do."
"Maybe I'm being a bit presumptive, and forgive me if I've not followed everything exactly, but if she was a smuggler, then…"
Burnout's supply of patience finally dried up. "Then what? Spit it out!'"
"If the woman was a smuggler, then, if I judge things correctly, the last people she would want to contact would be the authorities. So, by your reasoning, you could have left her alive and in no way jeopardized your agenda."
Burnout sat in the howling wind, realization drifting into his mind. He nearly missed the tight arc in the road way. He fought the Bison back into the curve, hearing the sound of branches snapping as the big tires caught and shredded some of the shrubs in the ditch.
In the long moments that followed, Burnout replayed everything in his mind. The squeal of the Bison's tires as it screeched to a halt in front of him, the stench of burned rubber and tar. The woman's shout, the feel of the door rending under his chrome fingers, the sight of the Predator as she pulled it from beneath the seat, and finally the sound of her neck snapping, dull and wet, her body going limp under him.
Now, Burnout had regained control of the big truck. He spoke in a soft voice, barely audible under the roar of the wind whipping in the open door. A normal person couldn't have heard him say, "You know, I hate it when you do that."
Lethe's voice was contrite. "My apologies. I did not mean to anger you. It is simply that I dislike death in all forms, and unnecessary death-"
"I've heard the speech. Frag, I hate this."
"Again, I apologize."
They came to a long stretch of straight road, just as the sun started to poke its head over the top of the eastern range. Burnout floored the accelerator, causing the big rig to jump forward like a live thing. "Well, I don't. I don't think I was wrong to nix her, even knowing that I could have left her alive. Even if she was a smuggler, Ryan has a pretty long arm. It might have taken him a bit longer, but he still would have found out what happened. But that's not the point, I guess. The point is that I made a split-second decision. When she pulled the Predator, I had two choices."
"Yes," Lethe said. "You have made your reasons clear. Even though, in hindsight, they may not have been as sound as you would have liked them to be, I understand that you did not make your decision lightly. I underestimated you, and you deserve better. Please accept, the apology."
A feeling ran through Burnout then, something he hadn't felt in years. In all his previous time under Slaver's command, he'd been treated as nothing more than a killing machine. Something to be pointed at the enemy and let go, and when there was no enemy present, Slaver had treated him as if he didn't exist, as if he was less than nothing.
He recognized the feeling. Respect. It felt better than any killing rush, or drug high. It was almost intoxicating.
He smiled. "Apology accepted."
They traveled for another twenty minutes in silence, because the road had deteriorated to such a level it took every ounce of Burnout's skill just to maintain speed.
Finally, Burnout's GPS indicated that this was the spot, and he pulled the Bison to the edge of the road.
In the early sunlight, a wide glen stretched off to either side of the highway. To his right, Burnout could see the charred remains of an old church in a far corner of the field. Across the narrow dirt road, an even older log cabin slumped toward the ground, years of neglect having finally taken their toll.
"This is it," said Burnout.
"This is what?"
"This is where the turn-off is supposed to be. That burnt building was still a little white church when I was a kid. The Kodiak once told me that old cabin belonged to his great-grandfather, way back before the Awakening."
Burnout turned his head to the left, and let the Bison roll slowly forward. "The old mail route used to be right here." On the left of the vehicle, there was nothing but dry, yellow wheat grass, stretching up to the tree line.
"There!" Burnout pointed to a break in the trees, which had been invisible from any angle but dead on. He turned the truck off the highway and coaxed it over the grassland. As they entered the forest, the overgrown road could only be made out as two separate ruts, too narrow for the Bison's big tires.
Burnout pushed the speed up as high as he dared, and for the next hour, they climbed. Higher and higher, taking switchbacks with deft, fishtail cranks of the wheel. The air grew thinner, and the soft breeze pushing in the doorway grew warmer as the sun heated up the afternoon.
The road, which had started out as a minimal thing, turned slowly worse, until even the Bison couldn't navigate the narrow, slippery track anymore. Finally, Burnout halted the vehicle.
"This is as far as the boat will go," he said as he shut off the engine. Actually he was surprised that they had made it this far up into the Montana Rocky Mountains. In the early morning sunlight, he could see the majestic, jagged rock face of Swan Mountain off to his right, and above, the rounded, pine-covered dome of Pony Mountain loomed. The scent of honeysuckle and huckleberries filled the air as a starling broke from cover and shot into the sky.
Burnout collected what remained of his gear. In the rear storage compartment, he found extra rounds for the twin Predators he now carried. Something about the rear space seemed wrong to him, the dimensions off by almost a meter.
He leaned forward, grabbed the carpeting off the rear wall of the compartment, and found the locked, hidden compartment. One swing of his fist and the heavy lock shattered.
Hundreds of BTL chips flew everywhere. Better-Than-Life were highly addictive simsense chips with sensory limits well beyond legal. Harder than drugs, and more addictive, these silicon babies burned users out, and many of them died.
Burnout shook his head. "Told you she was low-life. Now are you happy?"
"Luck."
It was a simple word, but it lodged deep inside Burnout's psyche and refused to be pushed away. He didn't respond, trying to concentrate on the tasks at hand. He shut the rear compartment, stuffed the extra clips into the duster's pockets. Checked the Heart to make sure it was secure at his side, then strode into the brush.
They climbed fast, Burnout's legs pistoning, his hands snatching for a hold on anything. Rocks and trees flashed by as he moved, his entire focus bent on covering ground. He disregarded the path they crossed after about ten minutes of climbing. "That's the way I went when I was a child. I'm pleased to see it's still in good shape, that means the Kodiak has been using it regularly."
The IMS kicked in. "What if it is being used by someone other than your friend? It is possible he has died and that someone a bit less helpful has taken up residence on the mountain top."
Burnout grunted and caught the lower limb of a tree to pull himself up a sharp incline. "Possible, but not likely. Besides, we'll know when we get there, and that shouldn't be much longer."
Despite his glib response, Burnout found that Lethe's comment brought more than a bit of doubt with it. If ^the Kodiak wasn't there, then Burnout's list of options dwindled considerably.
As he ran, he realized that he was nervous. Something he hadn't experienced since the day he discovered the full extent of his power at age seventeen.
He wasn't so much nervous that the Kodiak
would be dead, but more that the old man might just as well decide against helping them, or even worse, might tell Burnout that he was unable to help. That the Heart would remain forever just beyond his grasp.
What's happening to me? he wondered. Before Lethe, this kind of self-doubt was a dim feeling easily quashed or alleviated by action. Now, with an expanding awareness of the world around him came a deeper understanding of how dangerous this whole situation had become.
Lethe's comments about the smuggler still bothered him, but he didn't know why. Her death had been more than warranted. Maybe it was remorse. Maybe it was that he hadn't thought it through completely. That Lethe was right; Burnout had gotten lucky. In this game, against these odds, and with such high stakes, luck just didn't cut it.
He'd have to be more careful in the future, maybe even talk to Lethe when he made a plan.
The very idea of consulting someone before making a move caused an itch in a place he just couldn't scratch. But the truth of it was that the spirit looked at things from a whole different angle. And it was a viewpoint that could prove valuable.
Burnout was still considering this when they crested a nearly vertical rise and then stepped out onto the edge of a small lake. Almost four hundred meters across and ringed on three sides by dense forest, the placid green waters looked cool and clean. Just off shore, Burnout saw a fish jump, a huge salmon that he suspected had fought its way back up the streams to the lake to spawn and die.
"This is Cat Lake," he said. "The Kodiak ice-fishes here when the lean season makes hunting hard."
"It is beautiful."
Burnout said nothing, but simply circled the lake to where the rocky ground sloped up gently from the shore. As he scrambled up the rise, he looked out over the vast valley that fell away to his side, and for just an instant, he was a boy again, clinging to his mother's hand, frightened, tired, but filled with awe as he looked out into the vast wilderness.
His whole childhood had been spent within the confines of the sprawl, and even though he'd been told such wild places still existed, he'd never really been able to imagine just how awe-inspiring they could be. He had gripped his mother's hand tightly, laughing with a giddy, intoxicated humor.
His mother had just kept pulling him onward.
Now, his nervousness increased as they crested the small rise, and Burnout stopped.
Just a hundred meters ahead, across smooth granite, the tower rose into the sky, its rough-timber skeleton frame topped with a circular turret. At the base of the tower, a cabin had been built using the huge main struts as a support base.
From the small smokestack on the cabin's roof, a pale gray cloud puffed skyward until it was caught by the breeze and dispelled. Burnout's cybernetic sense of smell caught the scent, and for the first time since beginning his journey, a tremendous weight fell from his shoulders. He knew that musky scent, and it brought with it many memories, flooding him and leaving him with one feeling.
It smelled like home.
Suddenly, he heard a sound echo from deep within the tree line. Burnout readied himself and within a minute, a huge shambling form bearing an impossibly huge armload of firewood pushed through the trees, heading for the cabin. The form was that of a man, taller even than Burnout, though the cyberzombie remembered him as being much bigger.
The man wore loose-fitting linens and a dark fur coat. The clothing only added to the impression of vast size and power, though the man's clothing did nothing to hide the bulging gut. A snow-white beard rolled down his chest, joining in a glorious snarl with the salt and pepper locks coming from the man's head.
The man took two more steps before stopping. He tilted his head high. Wide nostrils flared, sniffing.
Then, with a move so fast it seemed impossible for so much mass to move so swiftly, the man dropped the wood and turned in Burnout's direction. The large double- headed axe, which had been hanging from the man's belt, seemed to materialize in his huge paws.
He sniffed again, his tiny eyes closed. Then, in a deep growl, the old man spoke. "I don't know your scent, and you don't belong here. Leave the way you came."
Burnout felt a strange tremor run though his body, something that told him not to disobey. He laughed.
"Old Kodiak, it's me. Burn… Billy Madson. It's been a long time since you first taught me the beginning ways of the path. My mother brought me, remember?"
The old man's defensive posture didn't falter. "I remember my own, creature. Billy Madson was very gifted, headstrong, and impatient. You are not him. Leave now."
Burnout took a step forward. "Old Kodiak, things have changed, more than I'd like to admit. But it is me, Billy Madson. I've returned to you because I need your help, and you are the last option I have. Please, you must help me."
The old man's eyes finally focused on Burnout. They seemed to grow bright, and Burnout knew he was looking into the astral. The Kodiak stared for a minute, then stepped back. "Billy, my son, what has been done to you?" The deep growl took on the slightest quail of despair. "There is so little of you left, and even that fractured bit of spirit is completely overwhelmed by something golden that is trapped inside you."
The old man stepped forward. "Have you come for me to free your spirit from this abomination? To set things right with you again?"
Burnout shook his head sadly, abruptly aware of his chrome body, suddenly more than a bit ashamed of what he'd become. "No, Kodiak. I've laid my bets, and I don't doubt that the end will come soon. But first I must talk to you."
The old man frowned. "My son, what could one who has forsaken everything the fates meant him to be have to say?"
Burnout felt those words like a blow, but still a smile came to his lips as his hands dipped into the cloth at his waist.
"What I have to say can wait. First, it's what I have to show you." Burnout held the Heart out toward the old man, the sunlight catching the perfection of its creation, sending out a dazzling wash of golden light that made the sun seem pale.
Under the sparkle of the Heart's light, the old man sank to his knees. "Oh, my son. I fear for you, for you hold the beginning, or possibly the end, of the world in your hands."
15
Ryan sank into the bottom of his seat as the Phoenix II LAV accelerated into the air. The wind had little effect on the heavy vehicle, and the ride was solid, if a little jerky as Dhin tried to keep them below local radar.
Dhin's voice came over the tacticom. "ETA forty-three minutes."
Ryan nodded. "Copy," he said. "Jane, you on-line?"
"I'm in my virtual steel box and ready to integrate everybody's feed," came her digital voice.
"Excellent, you'll be my clairvoyance for the others. What's the situation on site?"
"Well, Quicksilver, you're not going to like this. The whole place is crawling with local law. They're still freaked over Burnout, and they've got traffic closed off from all directions. Some local shaman is doing a lot of mumbo-jumbo, but he doesn't seem to be getting anywhere. If anything, that's spooking the local cops even more. You roll in there the wrong way and things could get ugly."
Axler cut in. "Ready for plan beta, Quicksilver?"
Plan Beta was a simple diversionary tactic, which would call for Dhin setting down somewhere outside the perimeter, then both he and Jane arranging for a distraction while the primary team got in and got out.
Ryan thought about it, then laughed. "No. Dhin, fly straight in. Land on an open stretch of pavement by the depot building."
Axler laughed. "What, you planning on just buzzing in and pushing all the law kids around like you were Daniel Howling Coyote jumped up from the burial ground?"
Ryan nodded. "That's exactly what I plan on doing. Jane, can you get me Nadja on a private channel?"
"Sure, Quicksilver. Connecting now."
Ryan waited in silence for a moment. Then Nadja's sleepy, concerned voice filled his ears. "Ryan? Is everything all right?"
A dull, empty ache filled Ryan's chest. "Yes, everything's fine.
I need a favor."
"Name it."
"We're headed into a hot situation near Kooskia in the Salish-Shidhe Council lands. We need some big official pull, because were short on time and long on jurisdiction. I don't want some second-rate cop telling us that we can't inspect the site. Think you can help us out?"
Nadja's voice was no longer concerned, it was all business now. "What's the time frame?"
"Twenty minutes, give or take."
Nadja sighed. "The Native American Nations loved Dunkelzahn, and Salish-Shidhe is no exception. You'll have the full cooperation of their entire government."
"Thanks. It'll save us valuable time."
"You're welcome," Nadja said. "And Ryan?" The concern was back in her voice.
"Yes?"
"Do you know what you're doing?"
Ryan smiled. "I'm taking care of business as fast as I can so I can get back to you."
Nadja laughed. "Good answer."
The line went dead.
Grind's voice filled his ears. "Frag, Ryan. You have to keep teaching us the basic rules of shadowrunning?"
Miranda looked across the small cabin of the Phoenix. "What basic rule?"
Axler's voice held a note of impatience. "Use all your talents, even if some of them are legal."
The rest of the trip went quickly, and as the team checked their equipment one last time, the LAV howled into hover position and descended. With a soft thump, they were down, and Dhin cut the engines. The doors hissed open, and the team hit dirt to find themselves staring into the barrels of more than twenty assault rifles.
A big man stepped forward into the still-blowing jet wash from the Phoenix. The dark skin of his face declared his Amerind heritage, and his tusked mouth showed his ork metatype. "Name and business, or we open fire."
Ryan didn't even slow his advance. "Check with your superiors. I have clearance to take charge of this crime scene." Ryan's magically enhanced senses were at full alert, and he felt confident. "I don't need you getting in the way. Now get these guns out of my face, or I'll have your badge."