Makeda watched Pongolyn manipulate her commlink and curse at her booster. She climbed to the top of a boulder and lifted a collapsible pole into the air. Watching the hacker balance the device in one hand and the pole with the other was amusing. Pongolyn cursed aloud. Makeda caught the phrases, “…drek signal…” and “… stupid wireless world…” before she focused on the other two runners. Imre stared at them as well.
“How’s your man?”
Richter was being patched up by Ollietronic. The troll’s skin purpled in bruises on his face, neck, and biceps. Ollietronic had sewn up and bandaged the troll’s neck. He worked on the claw marks across Richter’s shoulder.
“He’ll live. He’s taken worse. Soon as we get to Bern, we’ll get him healed.” Imre shook his head. “We’re lucky that’s all that happened.”
“Yeah. Vasti said Gregor had a hate on for other trolls.” Imre looked like he wanted to ask questions, but he kept his mouth shut. They stood there in an uncomfortable silence until Makeda couldn’t stand it. “So, now what?”
A large raindrop splatted to the ground next to them, followed by another and another. Imre muttered in German under his breath. “It looks like we stay put until the rain passes.”
As he spoke, Pongolyn, Ollietronic, and Richter came inside the barn. A couple moments later, Fatima, moving at double time, reappeared and entered. Imre gestured for Makeda to go toward the unoccupied corner before he followed. She waited for him. “And after the rain?”
“We walk until we find a decent signal and call for a cab.” He smiled at her. “Or until we find a major road. We’ve got a plane waiting for us at the airport.”
Makeda wondered how big the Bern airport was if the city was, as Vasti said, only a “tarted-up jenny.” She’d look it up when she got a signal. But only when she was sure Pongolyn was distracted. She didn’t want another hacking attempt on her. “We’ve got the same.”
It wasn’t a complete lie. Still, she wanted him to know that she wasn’t alone, that she had people waiting for her. Makeda watched his expression. Imre had a good poker face when he wanted it. She could tell he added the detail to his plans, but not much more.
They both settled to the ground, sitting cross-legged, at the same time. Makeda tilted her head. “Can I ask you a question?”
Imre smiled. “You just did.”
Makeda rolled her eyes. “A bunch of questions?”
“Yeah.”
“What did you think of me when you first saw me in the Party Train lounge?” She watched his face carefully, looking for reactions and clues. Now that she knew for sure that he was a shadowrunner, she wanted to know how much he thought like her—or didn’t.
Imre tilted his head, a smile playing about his lips. “I thought, ‘There’s my perfect cover for getting on the train. She’s so beautiful, no one will look at me twice.’ It was true, too. Everyone watched you.”
“And when the alarm went off?”
He didn’t say anything for a couple of moments, just picked at the fabric of his duster. “You always wonder if you’ve been made on a run, but I didn’t think it was me. It was the first time I wondered if you were who you said you were. An heiress who helps orphanages? Not really that believable.”
Makeda nodded. “Based on a true story of an heiress from about five years ago.” She leaned against the barn wall and listened to the rain come down in buckets. “But you weren’t really scared about your cover? Was any of the casino story you told Tojo true?”
They both looked across the barn to where Tojo sat propped up against a support beam. He had his eyes closed and looked like he was asleep. Makeda was sure he wasn’t.
“Yes. It was. In my much younger years. It’s what prompted me to leave the life of a gilded cage for one made of shadows. It’s easy to keep a SIN running when it was once real.”
The answer came out quick and smooth. That made it suspicious. Makeda wasn’t certain Imre told her the exact truth, but it was enough for now.
The mini-storm was short and fierce. It left the clean smell of rain and wet grass behind as the sun peeked out of the leftover clouds. Most of the mountain was still in shadow, but the afternoon was mild and pleasant. The group of them walked with an eager step, each of them looking forward to their separate destinations.
Richter scouted ahead. Fatima took the rearguard position. The rest walked together in a clump. Ollietronic and Pongolyn in front of Tojo. Makeda and Imre behind. This appeared to be the general travel order they did; street samurais in guard positions, hacker, fixer, and face in the middle.
Makeda took the time to watch the other team in action. Most of their communication was silent, comm chatter or hand signals she didn’t understand but noticed. It was very much like her and her team on a run. A mixture of communication styles that kept everyone on the inside informed and everyone on the outside in the dark.
It was clear that Ollietronic and Pongolyn were a couple. They even looked a bit like each other despite their different races: pale skin, green eyes, brown hair. None of the rest of Imre’s team were romantically involved with each other. Though all of them deferred to him. Imre ran the op from start to finish, with each of the rest fixed in their team roles.
“How long have you been running with this crew?” Makeda kept her voice low but not secretive.
“Long enough to know we’re a good team.” Imre kept his head on a swivel.
It was the same thing she’d done when she was escorting them. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, it was interesting to watch Imre take on the mantle of responsibility. “I understand that.”
“You been in Europe long?”
Makeda recognized the heading-off of runner questions at the pass and shook her head. She didn’t blame him. She wouldn’t tell a client anything important about her team, either. “A few weeks. Had the right background for this one, and I wanted a vacation from…home.” This, of course, was a complete lie. She’d spent the last couple of years in France and Belgium under various names.
This last year had been the hardest, after losing her lover and partner in Belgium. She grimaced and shoved thoughts of Zaria—that laughing, beautiful elf—away. She’d thought too much of the woman these past couple of days. The reminder of a paradise lost drained her of her curiosity about Imre and his team.
“How do you like it?”
“Other than the train wreck, running, screaming, and mutant trolls? Just fine.” She gestured to the land. “Beautiful countryside I never really wanted to stroll through.” Especially not in fashion boots. They’d been fine for a short hike, but now were shifting over into painful territory.
“Ah.”
They lapsed into silence. Makeda forced herself out of her head. She refused to think about Zaria or the mission gone wrong or the elf’s disappearance. Instead, she focused on the features around her. The dirt path that was more goat trail than road. Flowering fields. Random boulders. Small groups of trees. Green flashes in the sky.
Makeda blinked a couple of times and looked up. The clouds weren’t any thicker, but the sun hid its face, and a chill had crept into the air. She stopped walking. At the same time, Imre and the rest of his team did, too. Tojo was the only one who stuttered to a stop a couple of moments after everyone else.
“Richter’s spotted a house.” Imre tilted his head. “It seems occupied.” He lapsed into silence.
* * *
Makeda didn’t respond. She stared hard at the sky and hill behind Fatima as the samurai caught up to them. Green flashes winked in and out of existence, and a green fog rolled out of the hills. “Maybe it’s the city girl in me talking, but I’m really sure that fog isn’t supposed to be green. Also, isn’t the aurora borealis only at night?”
Imre and Fatima turned to see what Makeda was looking at. “Oh, frag me,” Fatima muttered. “What’s that?”
Makeda touched Imre’s arm. “Mana storm? Is that what a mana storm looks like?” She zoomed in on it with her cybereyes. Things cha
nged as the fog touched them. Foliage curled in on itself before opening up again, twisted and wrong. As far away as the fog was, it seemed to have weight and moved far too fast. She backed up on instinct. “The fog is changing things. I don’t want that touching me.”
“Whatever it is, we don’t want it touching any of us. Move!” Imre didn’t need to tell anyone twice. As one, they ran in the direction Richter had taken. Makeda stuck next to Tojo. If there was a house, it might be a safe place. She wasn’t sure. A quick glance over her shoulder made her grab Tojo’s arm and run faster. The fog seemed to chase them like a thing possessed. It would be on them in minutes.
As soon as Makeda crested the hill, she saw the house Richter found. It was a strange thing, twice the size of Vasti’s cabin, and laid out like a long house. It had two chimneys—one in the middle and one at the end—a row of small windows with two of them lit, and the whole thing was covered in vines that looked like evenly spaced out ivy. The plants were too regular to be anything other than cultivated. Rain barrels sat below the two back corners of the roof.
Surrounding the house was a neat, groomed lawn about thirty meters in diameter. There was a wind turbine to the south and solar panels to the east. All of this was enclosed by a high, white picket fence about two meters tall. Those same evenly spaced vines covered the fence. A stone path traveled from the front door of the house to where Richter stood at a high archway in the fence.
Once he saw his team sprinting toward him and the fast-moving green fog beyond, he stepped through the arch to get to the house, only to have the vines come alive and wrap themselves about him. Makeda heard his curse from where she was. Guardian vines. What the hell were guardian vines doing out here in the middle of the alps? Ollietronic got to Richter first with a knife out to free him.
Pongolyn, Makeda, and Tojo sprinted past him into the yard, with Fatima and Imre stopping to help. There was no time for polite knocking. Pongolyn threw open the door. Makeda yanked her out of the way of an expected shotgun blast. Behind them, the group at the gate gave a collective sound of pain.
Inside the doorway stood the two oldest people Makeda had ever seen. The short man waved the rifle at her while the tiny woman readied another arcane blast. Makeda did the only thing she could do: She jumped on them.
The three of them crashed to the ground. Makeda yanked the shotgun from the old man and shouted, “Mana storm!” She slapped at the woman’s hands as they began to glow again, then pointed out the door, “Mana storm!”
Pongolyn appeared in the doorway. “Magie sturm. Wir werden alle sterben.”
Her words and calm voice had an immediate effect on them. The woman struggled to her feet and shoved her way to the door. She looked out and waved a wrinkled hand at the vines. They stopped trying to kill everyone and returned to their place. “Schnell rennen. Schnell!”
As Makeda helped the little old man up, keeping the rifle in hand, Pongolyn yelled, “Run!” She moved out of the way as her team pounded up the stone walkway. She shifted the old woman out of the way as well. Once everyone was inside, the old woman untied the vines from either side of the doorway and let them hang free. She closed the door and turned back to the mob milling in her house. Makeda stepped forward with her hands raised in a calming gesture. She smile what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Before she could say anything, though, Imre touched her shoulder and shook his head. “Let Ollie do his job.”
He drew her away from the woman as Ollietronic stepped up and spoke in German and offered a hand to her. She dimpled at him as he bowed over her hand, then escorted her to her husband’s side.
Imre herded everyone except Ollietronic and the old couple into the sitting room. Makeda acquiesced enough to stand in the wide doorway of the room and watched the trio sit in the kitchen. Imre stood next to her. “Ollie is very good at talking to everyone. He’ll fix things.”
Makeda nodded. The sitting room was a lovely throwback to an age where acquaintances were invited into the parlor and not the home. Roomy and pleasant with stylized cityscapes on the walls, it had plenty of places to sit with small tables next to the couch, loveseat, and overstuffed chairs. This was a room for temporary visitors.
Tojo took off his hiking spikes and put them in his shoulder bag. He leaned back against the softness of the chair and closed his eyes with a sigh. For a moment, Makeda envied him his innocence. The ability to relax in a stranger’s home was a skill she’d lost a long time ago.
Raised voices in the kitchen drew her attention back to Ollietronic and the couple. Imre shifted next to her and smiled. “What is it?” she asked,
He tilted his head close to hers. “They’re bickering about whose turn it was to feed the plants and who was supposed to keep up on when the mana storm was supposed to come. She, Nora, says that it was Nils turn. He is sure that she’s right, but that she always looks after him. So he’s not to blame for forgetting.”
Ignoring the sudden pain of remembered arguments that pierced her heart, Makeda nodded. “So, we’re all right?”
“Yes, I believe so. The Zumthors think we’re a rescue party for people from the train. The fact that Tojo’s already asleep is going to help with that.” Imre glanced at the sleeping man and then returned his attention to the kitchen. “They’re going to get a small reward for helping us evade the mana storm, and they forgive us for barging in like we did. The fact that Richter waited outside the yard for so long, waiting for us, convinced them we aren’t brigands.”
“Brigands?” Makeda smiled at the word. “Brigands,” she repeated, letting it roll around in her mouth. “I haven’t heard that word used in conversation ever.”
Imre winked at her. “Loose translation.” He straightened as the trio stood and Ollietronic led the old couple to the sitting room. Pongolyn woke Tojo as they entered.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce you to our hosts, Nora and Nils Zumthor.” Ollietronic gestured to the old human couple. “Long time retirees from Celltec Bioengineering, they apologize for reacting so badly. It isn’t everyday a heavily armed group bursts through their door.”
There was a choir of greetings. Then Ollietronic went around the room, introducing everyone by name. Everyone stood and either shook hands or bowed as they were introduced.
“Celltec Bioengineering. That explains the guardian vines. Wonder what else they’ve got here.” Makeda made a mental note not to touch anything growing in or around the house.
“Don’t know, but I do know they are very old school. No Matrix connection except for a computer, and that only works when it’s sunny. At least, that’s what Nils said.”
Makeda gave him a look. “No Matrix? How do they survive?” “That has yet to be determined. Though they seem very happy
here.”
The mana storm lasted well into the night. Nils checked the glowing moss that edged the fence. As long as it glowed, there was magic out there, and it wasn’t safe to leave. During that time, Nora cooked a simple dinner of sausages and potatoes for everyone and refused help of any kind—not with the cooking, serving, clearing, or cleaning. Aged or not, this was her home and she could manage it, thankyouverymuch.
It was a fine meal. Ollietronic kept a pleasant conversation going with Imre chiming in from time to time. Though Makeda got the impression a lot was being said over the comms. It made her miss her own team all the more. She needed to get in contact with them—especially since circumstances had changed so drastically.
After the meal, Nora showed the women the guest room and told them that the men could sleep in the parlor room. There was a certain grandmotherly quality in the way she wished them a good night and shut the door with a firm click.
They looked at each other with big grins that faded into silence. The guest room had a couch, a bed, two end tables, a dresser, and a closet stuffed with boxes.
Makeda sat on the couch. “I know where I’m sleeping. You two get the bed.”
Fatima and Pongolyn looked at each other and nodded. Fatima took
off the weapons she still had on her and placed them on the dresser. Pongolyn dropped her backpack next to the bed and pulled out her commlink and the booster. She gazed at Makeda for a long, frank moment as her hands set up augmented reality overlays… AROs…that only she could see, in an automatic fashion.
“I never did thank you for keeping me from being shot. Especially after me hacking your PAN.”
Fatima looked up, surprised. She didn’t say anything. She just listened.
Makeda shrugged. “We’re on the same side. We weren’t then. We are now. Circumstances change.”
Pongolyn and Fatima exchanged a glance. The elf nodded. “Yes. Circumstances change, and thank you for keeping me from getting shot.”
“You’re welcome.”
Silence descended again, broken up by Pongolyn’s almost silent movements and Fatima’s restless checking and rechecking of her guns. Fatima dropped to the floor and opened up a cleaning kit. She picked up the smallest of her weapons and examined it.
Makeda watched Fatima’s automatic movement of stripping the pistol down to its parts and examining each one before cleaning it. “What happened out by the fence? I heard you all get hit with something.”
“Stun spell. Hit us all at once. Reminds me of a concussive grenade. No shrapnel. All pain.” Fatima set the Fichetti Security 600 to the side. “It weakened the vines a little. Gave the rest of us a headache.”
Pongolyn jumped with a small whoop. “I did it. It’s not much, but I’ve got a signal. And I got word to the rest that we’ll be coming in tomorrow.” She paused. “You want to contact your team? I’ll give you a temp password to the booster. No funny business. Promise. You’re paying us for protection. That means from us, too.”
Fatima smiled, tight-lipped, into the pistol she was cleaning. Makeda hesitated. She wanted to. She needed to. With the Zumthors willing to ferry them to Bern, the timeline was shifted. Either they needed a pick up tomorrow, or they needed to find a place to stay. Makeda had to get a message out to Galen and to Vasti. She eyed Pongolyn. Trust was in short supply. Still, she nodded. “Let me get a couple of messages ready.”
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