Ragnarock

by Stephen Kenson

  Part of Goronay was sickened by what he'd done. He wanted to find some way to wake Gregor up, to fix what had gone wrong. But it was too late for that. He returned to the tablet and brushed away fragments to reveal its contents, then wrapped it in plastic and cloth to protect it. The doctor placed his precious bundle inside his briefcase, then pulled his hat down over his eyes and went to the trailer door. For the first time, he was grateful for the rain and the darkness.

  As he opened the door and slipped out into the night, he realized that the gods had not sent the rain as a sign of their displeasure. They had sent it as a sign of their favor, to help their new servant fulfill his task. It was time, time for Ragnarok to come.

  1

  "We're a go, Talon. They're moving out."

  The voice sounded from the subdermal induction speakers implanted in Talon's inner ear. He subvocalized through implanted pickups.

  "Roger that." he said. "Here we go, team. Get ready."

  Talon sat in a darkened alleyway astride a sleek red, black, and silver Yamaha Rapier, its engine humming quietly, the lights off. He wore a dark motorcycle helmet with a visor that concealed his face. The visor was equipped with electronics that lit up the alleyway as bright as twilight. A close-fitting leather jacket would protect him in a spill, and the ballistic cloth lining would do the same against small-caliber rounds. He also wore wrist-length black gloves and battered-looking jeans over black biker boots. All that kept him from looking like any other street biker were the ornate dagger at his hip, the sheath tied down to his left thigh, and the design on the side of the Rapier. Not the familiar Yamaha logo, but a complex Celtic knot in chrome next to the name "Aracos" written in graceful lettering.

  Talon twisted the accelerator, and the engine revved with a whine.

  "Would you please stop doing that?" said another voice in his head. This one didn't come through his headware speakers. It spoke directly into his mind.

  "It relaxes me." Talon thought in reply. "We've got to be ready to go as soon as they get here."

  "Well, it's annoying me," the voice said tartly, "and it's completely unnecessary, anyway."

  Talon smiled and patted the side of the motorcycle's gas tank, releasing his grip on the accelerator.

  "Okay, okay." he said quietly, out loud. "Have it your way."

  "Thank you, I will." the voice said with a note of smug satisfaction. "Isn't it nearly time?"

  Talon nodded and focused on extending his mystical senses outward, through the brick and concrete walls, through all the physical obstacles in his way, allowing him to see the nearby intersection as if he were hovering a short distance above it, with a clear view of all the approaching traffic. Even this late at night, there were a fair number of vehicles on the road. Cambridge was part of the Greater Boston metroplex, and Boston was a city that rarely slept. Most of the cars were electric models following the city's GridGuide system, which provided them with power and kept them moving along at a safe, sedate speed. The car Talon was looking for was one of the rarer intemal-combustion models, a sign of conspicuous consumption on the part of the owner, but no more than he expected from a man like Nicholas Grace.

  He spotted it about a block from the intersection. A black Phaeton limousine with polarized windows, cutting its way through the traffic like a moving shadow. Only the bluish-halogen headlights gave it any color or depth whatsoever. It matched the image Trouble had forwarded to Talon's headware memory. That was the target, all right.

  Talon mentally keyed open Channel One of his headcom system.

  "Target sighted." he said. "I'm on it."

  As the limo turned the corner, Talon dropped his clairvoyance spell and gripped the handlebars of the Rapier. A few seconds later, the Phaeton cruised past the alleyway. Talon pulled smoothly out onto the street and began to follow.

  As he wove through the late-night traffic, he recalled planning for this run and Hammer asking him why he didn't just make himself invisible to follow their target. Talon reminded the ork mercenary how hard it was to drive in Boston even under normal conditions, to say nothing of dealing with traffic that couldn't even see you. No, when it came to running a tail, sometimes the old-fashioned methods worked best. Not that Talon's magic wouldn't come in handy on this caper. On the contrary, Talon was counting on it—just not yet.

  As he followed the limo, he glanced up into the night sky. The streetlights and the background neon glow of the city lights made it difficult to make out much of anything, even with the digital-enhancers in his helmet. But he knew that somewhere up there hovered a small surveillance drone, providing a realtime video feed of the area, including the limo and Talon not far behind. Val and Trouble were monitoring the feed, each deep into her respective virtual world. Valkyrie was jacked in to remotely control the drones needed for this operation, while Trouble navigated cyberspace to handle the informational side of things, keeping everyone coordinated.

  Using his headcom system, he called up a window in his field of vision. It was projected onto the retinas of his eyes by tiny lasers, using data fed to his headware by Val's drone. The head's up display showed a graphic overview of the streets and the traffic, with the target limo and Talon highlighted in red. The locations of the rest of the team also glowed on the display. Everyone was in place.

  He keyed open another comm channel with a thought. "Boom ol' buddy," he subvocalized through the link, "we ready to go?"

  "All set." came a Cockney-accented rumble. "Val's got our bird at less than a kilometer from rendezvous. Let's just hope Gracie doesn't decide to pull out the major mojo."

  "I can handle him." Talon said. "Not to worry."

  "Who, me?" Boom replied. "Worry? Not at all. The day you can't take some academic magic-geek is the day we should give up this business. The only concern I've got is what he might have going for him that we don't know about. I mean, we've never had a shadowrun not go down exactly as planned, right?"

  Talon ignored the sarcasm; it was just pre-run nerves. He had them, too, even after all his years as a shadowrunner. Their plan was good, but plenty of things could still go wrong. Talon understood Boom's concern, but there wasn't anything he could do about it now.

  The limo was headed for the airport, where Dr. Nicholas Grace, professor of applied thaumaturgy, would be boarding a UCASAir commuter flight t Washington D.C., the home town of Grace's associates, the Illuminates of the New Dawn. The IOND was a big-league magical association, a kind of "mages union" that included plenty of famed academics and corporate magicians from all over the world. Grace was a senior member of the organization, on his way home from a very important meeting with IOND members in the Boston area. Talon and the rest of his team were being paid to ensure that Dr. Grace's trip didn't go entirely as planned.

  As they made their way toward the city, Talon could see the flashing yellow lights in the street ahead. Orange-and white-striped plastic sawhorses stretched across the road, and a hulking troll wearing a black jacket and pants with reflective white stripes along the sleeves and legs stood, directing traffic. The Knight Errant corporate logo gleamed on his shoulder and chest. Cars were already starting to back up, even at this late hour, as the big troll officer slowly waved them through, one by one.

  The limo pulled up to the roadblock, and the troll raised one massive hand. The car slowed to a stop and the officer made his way over to the driver's side window, tapping on it with one blunt finger. Talon pulled in close behind the car as the troll leaned over and exchanged words with the driver, gesturing toward the side of the road. The driver said something Talon couldn't quite make out, and the troll gestured toward the side of the road again, this time more forcefully. The limo slowly pulled over as Talon glanced back over his shoulder to see an ork dressed in overalls and a hard hat pull a "ROAD CLOSED" sign across the end of the road about two hundred meters back, blocking off any more incoming traffic, and making sure there wouldn't be any witnesses for the next few minutes.

  Talon smiled and pulled his bike
up behind the limo.

  "Keep an eye out for any astral trouble, Aracos." he thought.

  "Don't I always?" the voice in his mind responded, with a touch of reproach. Talon patted the motorcycle as he dismounted behind the car, drawing a gun made of flat black plastic from under his jacket. The troll officer removed a massive pistol from under his jacket and leveled it at the driver's side of the car.

  "Don't move." he said flatly. The driver's side window was still down, and Talon could see the limo driver put his hands on the steering wheel, keeping them in sight. He was hired muscle. According to the profile Trouble had put together, he was pretty good, too, and smart enough not to try anything stupid. Not until he got some sort of opportunity.

  The passenger in the back of the limo nearly gave it to him. The car's windows were tinted and nearly impossible to see into, but it was quite possible to see out. That was all Dr. Grace needed to try and use magic against the troll leveling a gun at his driver.

  Talon felt more than saw a surge of magical power as Grace cast a spell intended to reduce Boom's brain to slag. Fortunately, although Talon couldn't see Grace, he could see Boom, and he'd already extended his own magical shielding to protect the big troll. Grace's manabolt splattered against the shield like water striking a dam. Boom barely felt a thing.

  As Boom moved to secure the driver, Talon was already in action. He stepped around to the rear door of the limo and drew a blade from under his jacket. Not the golden, rune-etched dagger at his hip, but a modern combat knife, edged with a monofilament cord. The blade sliced right through the lock on the door, sending small parts scattering to the pavement. Talon felt another surge of mystic power gathering in the air above the limo.

  "Aracos!" he called out.

  "I'm on it, boss!" came the response. Suddenly, Talon's motorcycle dissolved like mist, replaced by a shimmering falcon with golden feathers that soared above the limousine as a misty shape materialized there. It looked like a dark thundercloud with faintly humanoid features and glowing pits of electric blue light for eyes. An air elemental, and a fairly powerful one at that.

  The falcon tore into it with a piercing shriek, razor talons rending the misty form as the elemental buffeted the bird with its powerful winds. The falcon flapped its wings and remained steady against the onslaught.

  Talon yanked open the back door of the limo. There was a bang and something struck him squarely in the chest. His jacket's ballistic armor lining protected him, but the impact nearly knocked him down. It was like getting hit in the chest by a baseball bat. Nicholas Grace sat huddled in the back of the limo, leveling a slim pistol at Talon. It looked almost comical in the hands of the small, bookish mage, with his gold-rimmed glasses and his immaculate charcoal gray suit. Talon was prepared for some additional magical assault, but he hadn't been expecting someone like Grace to use a gun.

  Talon leveled his own gun at Grace and fired. The dart struck an invisible wall a few centimeters away from the mage, deflecting harmlessly. Damn! Talon thought. A barrier spell. He should have expected it.

  The doctor held the gun in his right hand and pointed his left at Talon, rolling out harsh words in what sounded like ancient Hebrew to Talon's trained ear. A crackling bluish bolt of lightning shot out and Talon held out one hand to deflect it, his magical shields barely holding against the force of the spell. He concentrated his own effort on breaking down Grace's barrier, throwing the force of his will against the enchantment to dispel it. Fortunately the barrier was hastily cast. It broke quickly under the force of Talon's magic and vanished. Before Grace could reassemble it or cast another spell, Talon brought up his Narcoject pistol and fired again.

  There was a chuff of compressed air, and the small dart caught the mage just below the clavicle, easily penetrating the cloth of his suit. Grace slumped back against the other door as the fast-acting neurostun started to work its way into his system. In seconds, he would be paralyzed, then unconscious. Talon kept him covered for a few seconds, to be sure the drug did its work, while Boom covered the driver. Grace's eyes quickly glazed over and rolled back in his head as the golden raptor slashed through the hovering air elemental one final time. The spirit dissolved like smoke on the wind, and the falcon settled onto the roof of the limo with a caw of pride. Good thing, Talon thought. With Grace out of commission, the elemental was free from his control. The elemental might have gone berserk if Aracos hadn't dealt with it.

  "Talon, what's going on?" came a concerned voice over his commlink.

  "Our target put up a bit of a fight," Talon replied, "but it's under control. How are we doing?"

  "Smooth as silk." Trouble's voice came back. "The driver tried to radio in a message when he saw the road block, like we figured, but Val's got the airwaves over you jammed up good. No reaction from Knight Errant dispatch or the traffic grid yet, but you haven't got too much longer before the GridGuide system starts to notice the hold-up or some irate motorist decides to put a call in to traffic control. I'll keep things busy as long as I can."

  "Roger that, we're almost done." Talon responded. All that remained was to get what they came for and clear out.

  He opened up his senses to the astral plane, his vision expanding beyond the mundane to take in the glowing auras around himself, Boom, and the others present. He could see the dormant glimmering of magical items on Dr. Grace's person, and he carefully examined them for any signs of booby traps or magical fail-safes. He also checked the car to make sure there weren't any dangerous spells or enchantments, but he detected none. The car was a rental, and it was unlikely that Grace would expend the time or effort to place any dangerous spells on it, but it paid to be careful.

  On the floor of the back seat was Dr. Grace's briefcase. Talon pulled it out and checked it over, then neatly sliced open the locks with his monoblade. Inside was a small, wooden box that glimmered with magical power. It was protected with a spell of some kind.

  Talon set the briefcase down on the car's trunk without touching the box, then held his hands out over it. The golden falcon dropped from the roof of the car to settle on his shoulder as he worked.

  "What do you think?" Talon asked his familiar.

  "Looks pretty tricky," the spirit responded, "but I think we can take care of it."

  "All right then, let's do it."

  Talon focused his will on the glowing aura around the box and felt Aracos do the same. Together they pulled at the pattern of the spell around the box, unraveling its structure, breaking down the energies that bound it together, until the spell began to dissolve and the glow slowly faded into nothing. Talon was sweating a bit from the effort when they were done, and he could tell Aracos felt it, too. The spell was tough.

  Without the protective spell, the box's lock was easily dealt with by mundane means. Talon opened it up and looked inside. On a cushion of wine-dark velvet there rested an old-fashioned key, made of a rich golden metal that gleamed faintly in the street lights. The aura that glowed around it was almost painfully bright, filled with barely restrained power. Talon snapped the lid of the box shut and stood up, turning toward Boom and opening his commlink as he did so.

  "This is it, let's go." he said to Boom and the rest of the team. He moved up to where the troll was covering the limo driver and raised his Narcoject pistol. In one easy motion, he shot the driver in the neck, quickly sending him into dreamland. He closed the back door of the limo as a dark panel van came down the street towards them and stopped. Boom slid the back door open and started tossing the sawhorses in the back. In moments, all traces of the roadblock were gone. Talon and the troll climbed into the back of the van and the golden falcon on Talon's shoulder took wing, then vanished into thin air, returning to his home in the astral plane. Talon could feel the spirit's smug sense of satisfaction lingering like a faint perfume. Although he would never admit it, Aracos loved being a shadowrunner just as much as his master.

  In the front seat of the van sat two figures. Valkyrie, the team's rigger, was in the passenger se
at, for a change. She was jacked into the remote control deck in her lap, its cables trailing up to the jack behind her left ear. Her head lolled to the side; her mind was far away, her attention focused on controlling the surveillance drone hovering overhead that kept watch on the entire operation.

  In the driver's seat sat Harlan Hammarand, or Hammer, as he was generally known. The burly ork mercenary looked over his shoulder to offer a tusky grin to Talon and Boom. Hammer had seen action in some of the roughest spots in the world, but nobody was happier than him when things went smoothly. "All set?" he asked.

  Talon nodded. "We've got the goods. Let's get out of here and set up delivery to Mr. Johnson."

  "Fine by me." Hammer said. He pulled the van back out and headed for the city.

  2

  Mr. Brackhaus set the meeting for two hours later, in front of the Dunkelzahn Institute. Talon wasn't crazy about the location, but his employer was insistent, so he agreed, reluctantly. A few hours before dawn, Talon found himself waiting in the cold outside the Institute's headquarters in Cambridge, feeling more than a little bit exposed.

  With his leather jacket, short haircut, silver earring, and backpack, someone could almost mistake Talon for a graduate student from nearby MIT&T or Harvard. If not for the extremely early hour, he could probably get away with it. The identification he carried would support it. Talon looked younger than his thirty-one years—even without the help of twenty-first-century cosmetic surgery or body-sculpting techniques. Magicians tended to avoid such procedures, since changes in the body's delicate balance could often affect their ability to use magic. Talon had gone in for a few body modifications—most people did sooner or later—but all his extras were inside: cellular headlink, crypto-circuit, and data storage. The only one visible, however, was the gleam of a datajack port behind his right ear, common enough in this day and age.