by Nyx Smith
Even Sukayo's "guesses" tend to prove out.
17
The street in Brooklyn is a river of flashing, flaring light squeezed between storefront shops and small plazas of stores, clogged by vehicle traffic and swarming with early evening shift-change crowds. From above comes the roaring of an express on an elevated subway line, from curbside the incessant babble of trideo and laserdis adstands. The crowds packing the sidewalks, surging across the roadway in sudden tides, include everything from suits and salarymen to chrome dogs and squatters: human, elf, ork, of every color, shape, and size. None pay lasting attention to the pair of silver-gray Infiniti E9 heavy sedans easing along the curb lane at walking speed. None give more than a glance at the pair of male norms in blue-trimmed black sports coats threading their way through the crowds on the sidewalk.
Then, abruptly, a man in brown cargo-utilities turns and breaks into a run.
Brake lights flare. Kobun of the Yoshida-kai pour from the Infiniti sedans. Lieutenant Enotori of Nagato Security Service starts out the passenger door of the second sedan, but then hesitates, looking into the rear of the car. Machiko gives no sign of noticing the lieutenant's hesitance. She switches off her handcomp, pushes out through her door, then mounts the sidewalk and follows the pursuit at a determined stride.
People who merely stepped aside to avoid the charging kobun draw back to form a wide swath around her.
It is not unexpected.
The pursuit ends just up the block in the confines of an alleyway lit by brilliant spotlights. The alley ends at a wall of macrolinked fencing topped by razor wire. Two vicious mongrels snarl and snap from the other side of the fence. The norm male with his back to the fence, hemmed in by a semicircle of kobun is known as Yakei, "Watchman." He brandishes a butterfly knife and menaces the kobun, but as the datajack in his temple implies, his specialty is information.
The kobun draw back as Machiko advances. Yakei abruptly shifts his focus to her. He bares his teeth and, grunting, growling, slashes at the air between them with the knife. His desperation is clear.
"Enough," says Machiko.
The desperation lingers a moment more, then dismay blossoms full. The inevitability of what he must do is by then apparent. The knife drops to the ground. As Machiko advances nearer, Yakei withdraws to the corner formed of macrolink fencing and the rough concrete wall of the building on the left. Then there is no place else to go, nowhere to turn.
Machiko extends a hand to Yakei's shoulder. He winces. He feels something on the order of a gentle prickling of pinpoints as she tickles the nerves at the crook of shoulder and neck. "It is a dangerous time to be an enemy of Nagato," she says softly, leaning close. "Swords have been drawn. Serpents walk the streets. Are you a friend or enemy? Tell me now."
Yakei licks his lips. "A friend. I—I'm a friend."
Machiko shifts nearer, near enough to feel the heat of the man's quick, deep breaths. "Enemies will be destroyed," she says softly as before. "Cut down ruthlessly and ground into dust. You understand this. You know the truth of what I say."
Abruptly, Yakei nods.
"You say you are a friend. Yet two months ago you issued threats against Nagato's Chairman. Is that not the Way of an enemy?"
Yakei swallows a huge breath. He seems to shudder. Seems to be struggling against a new rise of desperation, mingled with fear. "Hey, I was just jinked off. One of you, you Serpents jacked me around." Another large breath. "I didn't mean nothing."
"You have friends among the Triads."
"No—"
A pained expression suddenly grips his features as Machiko gives stronger stimulus to pressure points. "Do not lie," Machiko says. "Lies will not be tolerated."
"I didn't do . . . didn't do nothing!"
"Your friends. What do they tell you?"
"Nothing! They told me nothing!"
"What do you hear!"
Yakei begins shaking visibly. He wipes spittle from his lips with a trembling hand. "Somebody's buying heavy chrome. Freelance cutters. At bargain prices."
"Heavy chrome does not come cheaply."
"It does if a mage makes it that way."
"You suggest that a mage would use sorcery to influence chromed killers? You speak madness."
"It's what I heard. This slag. He heard it. He was at some trash bowl by Kennedy Airport. He said this chrome capper started jowling like he was blown on Talking Head BTL. The capper said he was running hits almost for free, for charity. Gonna make the world safe for crazies. Kill the fragging corps. Kill everybody. Till there's nobody but chrome-jobs left."
This could mean nothing. Yakei refers of course to the cybernetically enhanced. Those with the greatest amount of enhancements walk a fine line between sanity and madness. The use of mind-altering BTL has been known to push such metal maniacs over the edge, or deeper into psychosis. "This slag who heard this talk. He is a friend of yours?"
"It's a she. Just a chummer."
"She is Triad?"
"I don't know. Maybe one of their pillow biffs."
"What of the mage?"
"This capper said he had a mage for a Johnson. Called him the brain-buster."
The what? "Explain."
"I don't know any more!"
Machiko squeezes pressure points. A look of agony grips Yakei's features. He slips from his knees to sit in the filth gathered against the building wall and begins quaking violently. "What is the meaning of 'brain buster?' "
"I don't know I don't know! "
"What does it tell you?"
"Maybe he's a kick in the ass!"
Or perhaps this mage equips his chromed killers with cranial bombs. "The biff? What is her name?"
Yakei grunts harshly, panting rapidly.
Machiko rises, gestures to the headman of the Yoshida-kai kobun. "Escort Yakei-san to my car."
The headman bows. "At once, Machiko-sama."
18
Evening settles into night. The Infiniti E9 sedans criss-cross Brooklyn county, rolling through Flatbush to Canarsie and Starrett City, then across the line into Queens and Howard Beach, in sight of the airport, then back to Brownsville and finally Bedford-Stuy. It is like a brief excursion around the globe. The signs rising over the streets wink and gleam with the languages of eastern Europe, the Middle East, Asia, the Americas. They pass corporate enclaves and coffin hotels. They ride past blocks at least nominally controlled by Triad gangs and the Maf, and everyone's third-rater, Seoulpa rings. Crowds change color and clothes with the passing blocks. People in the cold dark places trail fiery halos of heat. Humans and metas under the brilliant lights of stores and the strobes of nightclubs and bars gleam faintly with warmth.
The night grows chill, and Yakei-san, seated between Machiko and Lieutenant Enotori in the rear of the second sedan, begins looking forlorn. It is good, in Machiko's view, if he feels that way. It is wise. It will encourage him to be mindful of his friends and to assume a cooperative spirit.
The hunt, of course, is for Yakei-san's biff friend, a woman politely described as kayabasuke, a "red light district woman." A particularly vile variety that has as much in common with the dreamqueens of simsense celebrity as the average pay-toilet. Yakei-san appears to believe that his hope for a long and prosperous life depends on finding this biff, finding her tonight. This, too, is wise.
While they drive, Machiko takes two calls via commlink. The first is from Ryokai, reporting that he has made many contacts and heard much talk about Triads, but nothing of a definite nature. The second call is from Gongoro.
"This is a waste of time!" Gongoro declares. "We should be questioning informants in the Yoshida-kai!"
Fortunately, Machiko uses the ear piece from her commlink. She replies. "You have your instructions," and breaks the link.
Tonight, Serpents walk. A number of senior GSG, Ryokai and Gongoro included, lead teams of kobun and selected Nagato Security officers on sorties throughout the plex. They are prepared to turn these sorties into armed assaults if necessary, but
bloodshed is not the objective. Their true objective is twofold. First, they seek persons identified in the shared Nagato Security-GSG database, persons known to be hostile to Nagato Combine, or those who have committed hostile acts. Such persons are to be questioned and any relevant leads should be pursued. What will come of this remains to be seen. Their second objective, Machiko's objective, is more strategic in nature, and affects her with far more uncertainty. Tonight's operation will be noticed. One member of the Guard stopping people in Brooklyn and asking questions would likely be noticed. Numerous GSG moving throughout the megaplex, accompanied by plainclothes Nagato Security officers and kobun of the three clans will almost certainly cause concern and perhaps stimulate a response. Machiko can only guess at what effect this will have on the enemy she seeks, but she hopes it will incite an impetuous response, anything that will prove revealing, and thus better enable her to prepare the Guard for war.
And war is the point. It is in expectation of war that Machiko utilizes the threat of violence to intimidate Yakei-san. It is with this same expectation that she will use whatever means necessary to make the unwilling talk and convey the information she needs. Those who refuse to willingly aid Nagato Combine prove themselves aligned deliberately or by default with the enemies of Nagato Combine. If such persons are not responsive to mere words, then they will be intimidated, even brutalized, till possessed of a more cooperative spirit. Gangsters may utilize such tactics, but that is coincidental and of no importance. The objective of gangsters is to eliminate competitors and improve market position. Gangsters want nuyen, profit. If they cannot have what they covet in a civilized manner, they resort to physical violence. This bears no relation whatsoever to the violence and brutality of war, or the need for warriors to commit acts of utter savagery.
The warrior's Way is death. The warrior's function is to serve as a weapon, to meet the enemy, to attack and to kill, to be prepared to wage war and to kill the enemy in all places, at all times, under any circumstances, whether facing a single enemy or an army of ten thousand. If, instead of killing, Machiko must intimidate, torture, or maim to defeat the enemies of Nagato Combine, she will utilize all her resources to do the deed and do it with success. The essence of all strategy is founded on the necessity of overcoming opponents and defeating enemies. The means is incidental, a question of spirit and technique. Machiko will do whatever she must to defeat Nagato Combine's enemies, defend the life of the Chairman and the people and property of Nagato Combine. How she does it is of little importance. Whether she lives to see the result of her efforts, the final defeat of Nagato Combine's enemies, is of no importance whatsoever.
They come to a twilit street beneath the rust-plated pillars of an elevated subway line. The buildings rise like soot-blackened sepulchers into the pall of night. The pavement is scattered with litter and anonymous bits of metal. The few people in sight lurk in dark doorways and on the fringes of the twisted wreckage and piles of debris clogging the ends of alleyways. The Infinitis slow to a halt before a gleaming red marquee of a bar advertising "Sliffs! Sips! Simsense!"
"Yeah," says Yakei-san. "This is it."
The kobun behind the Infiniti's wheel glances aside at his headman, and says, "Trouble coming."
The headman looks ahead, then to the rear.
A deep resonant rumbling rises suddenly to banshee screams. A pair of cycles, blurring with speed, flash past on the left. They are followed by three, then a pack numbering as many as eight, all moving at speed. The riders appear like go-gangers, brilliant reflective helmets, gleaming wet-look jackets and boots, vambraces and gauntlets, some perhaps studded and spiked. The cycles have the mercurial streamlined forms of Rapiers, Auroras, and Scorpions, all of them high-powered street machines.
The pack slows and bunches up at the end of the block. The headman of kobun cranes his neck and then grunts. "Duelists," he says, glancing back at Machiko. "A thrill gang, Machiko-sama. Streetscag. They have been causing Brooklyn a lot of trouble."
"Trouble directed at Nagato Combine?"
"No, they make trouble for everyone."
Machiko nods, and looks aside to Lieutenant Enotori. "You may proceed."
Enotori directs a quick glance up the block. The Duelists fill the street, some circling through the intersection, others taking pause. "Perhaps, until the situation clarifies—"
"The situation will be handled," Machiko says, softening her tone to balance the brevity of her words. "Please proceed."
Enotori affects a polite bow and heads into the bar. He is an investigative officer with the Nagato Security Service and has much experience, not in warfare, but in undercover operations. Tonight, he wears an antiqued brown synth-leather duster and the twin cams of his eyes relay everything he sees to Machiko's handcomp. As he enters the bar, Machiko directs Yakei-san's attention to the changing images on the handcomp's screen.
The interior of the bar is stroboscopic. Everywhere trid screens flicker and flash with spectral images, most of them portraying hard-core sex. The tables of booths running down the left burn with the fast-paced action. The bar along the right winks and flashes with adverts for private dances and other services available on the second floor.
"Machiko-sama," says the headman of kobun.
Machiko looks up, looks to the end of the block. Beneath the gleaming red disks of traffic signals the go-gangers now circle like scavenging birds. The thudding and whining of their cycles carries across the night like the murmuring of a distant storm.
"Put one man outside," Machiko says. "Show steel."
The headman speaks into his commlink. The rear door of the lead Infiniti swings open, and a large, powerful-looking male stands up on the street-side of the sedan. An Ingram SuperMach SMG fitted with a high-density 60-round clip hangs casually from his hand.
This is a warning, a sign even gangers should understand. Do not involve yourselves in matters that do not concern you. Be wary of where you tread. You may step under the iron boot heel of a giant.
The view through Machiko's handcomp pans across the booths at the rear of the bar. Machiko catches glimpses of faces and bodies briefly lit by the stroboscopic flarings of the tridscreens; orks and norms and at least a few elves, wearing synthleather and chrome and studded neon-spandex, dreamchippers and slots and party packers. And then Yakei-san blurting, "That's her! That's the biff!"
Her name is Choca. For a dwarf she is not unattractive, voluptuous in form, covered with glinting, winking techno trinkets, crowned by masses of yellow-striped sable hair that cascade about her head and shoulders. Standing on spike-heeled boots that add much to her height, and now taking a seat, joining a husky ork on the cushions of a narrow booth.
"They're forming up," says the headman of kobun.
Engines roaring and whining, the go-gangers move their cycles into a battle line that crosses the end of the block. They have seen the warning of the kobun and they answer it with the threat of combat. They leave Machiko no choice. She cannot summon police, nor merely turn and leave. The threat of the gangers must be met. Nagato Combine must stand firm in the face of battle or it will be perceived as weak, and all manner of violent elements will be encouraged to strike.
"Prepare to fight."
The headman barks orders into the commlink on his arm. Kobun scramble from the sedans. Machiko strides up the sidewalk to the front of the lead Infiniti and the roaring of the cycles rises to a cyclone wail. Two of the gangers start forward, raising a churning cloud to their rear. Their intention is plain. Machiko unlimbers her SCK M-100 submachine gun, clears the safety, and opens fire.
The fusillade that erupts immediately around her is deafening, full of the stammering of Yoshida-kai's SMGs and the rapid thumping of clan automags. The first of the gangers to start forward veers suddenly to the left and careens over the curb. The cycle flattens itself against a grim-faced wall of brick. The rider, going airborne, smashes against the metal slats of a security shutter at the front of a shop and falls out of sight behind the burn
t-out husk of an automobile. The second of the gangers to start forward, front wheel rising high, topples over backward and sprawls skidding onto the pavement.
The rest lift weapons as if to fire, but thunder is already raging. A third bike falls over sideways. Its rider staggers around and drops. Two more gangers are clearly hit, swaying as if struck by bats, but manage to keep to their saddles. The man at Machiko's right stumbles to his knees on the curb. Then the cycles are roaring as never before and bunching into a phalanx of macroplas and metal and hurtling up the block.
Gunfire rises to a crescendo. Machiko draws her Beretta 200ST and empties both automag and SMG into the swiftly advancing pack. Two more of the howling cycles crash. Machiko draws her katana, chooses her opponent, and strides into the roadway to meet him. The ganger hunches low behind the windscreen of his machine and wrenches at the throttle, setting the engine to screaming.
In the final instant, Machiko steps sideways and cuts. She cuts with all the power of will and spirit. Her sword cleaves through macroplas cowling, through chromed steel and synthleather and flesh and bone and casts a foaming wave of gore and blood across the breadth of the street. A bisected corpse tumbles to the pavement, trailing a broad smear of red. A riderless Scorpion flips over its front fork and crashes tumbling down the asphalt.
A fuel tank explodes. Two bikes collide and crash to the pavement. Another smashes through a barricade of metal drums and trash and slides into an alleyway. The three surviving machines hurtle to the end of the block, and turning, skidding, shrieking, round the corner and vanish from sight.
Machiko sheaths her sword, retrieves her guns and reloads. A Nagato SDF combat medical team soon arrives to tend the wounded. Three kobun require assistance, one is serious. The fallen gangers are all dead. The headman of kobun calls for additional men and turns to Machiko like a victorious general, his spirit huge and full of pride. The sharp nod he gives Machiko erases any questions she may have entertained concerning the loyalty of the Yoshida-kai, or the views of the clan's rank and file on metas.