Shadowrun: Burning Bright

by Tom Dowd

  "Help her," he told the spirit, pointing at Hanna. "Gather the rest of the Truman family inside. Then do anything and everything Seeks-the-Moon tells you."

  If air spirits could scowl, Charlotte did so, but all she said was, "I will do as you say."

  "You'll need my help at the hospital," said Seeks-the-Moon.

  "No, it could be a trick," Kyle said, quickly sitting down in one of the pool chairs. "Excuse me. I need to get over there."

  Working as fast as he could, Kyle turned his perception inward and allowed his spirit freedom from its physical body. He separated, then looked over the quiet area of astral space around the pool, the mundanes Dan Truman and Hanna Uljaken, though she still wore her scintillating earring, and the spirits Seeks-the-Moon and Charlotte. The mundanes stared at his body while the two spirits watched where Kyle floated a meter or so above the ground. Only Hanna seemed to catch on that Seeks-the-Moon was looking somewhere else than she was.

  Kyle nodded at the spirits, turned, and shot outward over the city. The Handlemann Institute was not far, about twenty blocks north of the Truman Tower. He was there even before his physical body had collapsed fully in the chair.

  A sense of despair filled him as he entered the hospital—emotional overflow from the sick and the dying. But there was something else he could feel as he dropped quickly through the man-made floors, taking as straight a path toward Mitchell Truman's room as he could. There was pain, active and sharp, echoing upward at him, and some odd metaphysical aroma, pungent, cold, and alien.

  He dropped into the Truman boy's room, and almost leaped out again in revulsion. The room was splattered in blood and gore, the bed torn and twisted, slammed against one wall. But Mitchell Truman was not in it. The blood, Kyle saw, came from the bodies of a disemboweled guard—Knight Errant by the tattered shards of his uniform—and what seemed to be only the torso of a small woman in a doctor's coat Parts of her were lodged between the blinds on the window.

  Kyle cursed, and felt another twinge—his other elemental. Its cry came from below him again, deeper in the bowels of the building. He willed himself down toward it, and felt the reverberations of a powerful spell echo through astral space. He homed in on it.

  He emerged in a corridor as the final wisps of unleashed mystic energy washed through it, illuminating it in shifting astral colors of green and blue. There were four beings pres­ent. Two of them human and two of them spirits.

  The two humans were probably from Knight Errant, but from astral space Kyle could not read the markings or colors of their uniforms. Their clothing was a simple, non-living dull gray. One, however, was a mage, and his aura sparkled with the residual energy of the powerful spell he'd just tossed at one of the spirits. The mage stumbled backward, pained by the force of that spell, while his companion, by his size and form apparently an ork, opened fire on the larger of the two spirits with his assault rifle.

  The dark spirit, twice man-sized, barely noticed as the rounds of gunfire passed through its shadowy body and tore up the wall behind it

  Kyle stared, unable to suppress a gasp. The thing before him was huge, with six sharp legs and a long, flattened body of a shiny leathery brown. A terrible scent, horribly pungent and one that could only be described as an odor, reached Kyle in astral space. The spirit lashed out with one of those legs, a smaller front one, and caught the mage across the upper part of his right arm. Blood jutted from the wound, spraying the other guard and the spirit.

  The second spirit, Kyle's elemental, sputtered near the floor, dim and weakened from an obvious clash with this many-legged thing. Oblivious to Kyle's arrival, the dark spirit moved in on the collapsing mage.

  Kyle acted quickly, thinking to attack the spirit while it was distracted. His choices were simple—attack it directly with the raw energy of his own form or through a spell. Both were dangerous.

  He enacted the spell, pulling the energies of astral space together with blinding speed. The spirit looked up at him, though its form seemed to have no true eyes. Kyle had no doubt it could sense him quite clearly. It began to hiss.

  The energy flowed, violet, white, and blue, into him as the final pieces of the spell came together in his mind, and the spirit leaped, spreading its short, apparently vestigial wings, as he released the spell.

  The spell caught the spirit square on, a bolt of astral power that impacted against the creature's head and splashed backward along nearly the whole length of its dark, shiny body. It squealed, the sound of its cry alien and painful in astral space, then seemed to shake its form as though to try­ing throw off the remaining energies of the spell tearing at it As it thrashed, its legs flashed about, ripping tears in the walls and threatening to dismember the others in the hall. Its long feelers slapped against Kyle.

  He reeled. The pain from casting the powerful spell in astral space, raw and unanchored to the physical world, was tremendous. He was also nearly suffocated by a putrid, nearly overpowering odor. He fought off the red mist that filled his mind as the spirit steadied itself. Tendrils of astral smoke rose from its hideous form as it leaped at him again. Kyle barely had time to react. As an FBI man he'd learned quick and dirty hand-to-hand combat from a UCAS Marine Corps specialist, and that training came back to him now. He turned his body aside violently as the spirit shot forward. The lead claws missed, and then Kyle was inside them, close to the spirit's head. Grappling at the thing for leverage with his left hand, he focused as much raw energy as possible into his right as he brought it up under what he thought was the spirit's head.

  The energy of his astral body clashed with that of the spirit's in a flash of gold and black power. Kyle felt resistance, the spirit's form seeming armored even in astral space. He forced his hand upward. Pain raked across his back as one of the second set of legs struck him.

  The spirit reared, uttering another of its awful shrieks, and Kyle saw his injured water elemental stab upward into the creature's underside. The thing bucked and spun, slamming against the wall and dragging Kyle off his feet. It squealed hideously again, and Kyle struck down with his own feet against its distended belly, pushing with all his might while grabbing what he could of the spirit's head with his right hand.

  The spirit curled up all its legs when the head finally gave way. The head, such as it was, tore free of the body. The force of the separation, induced by Kyle's own will, threw him to the side, past the striking legs and on to the floor.

  The spirit writhed, its body tossing about uncontrolled, the stench even stronger now, until its movement began to lessen and its form dissolve, streaming and floating off through astral space. In agony, Kyle looked at the head-thing in his hand as it too dispersed, its coherency lost with its life. Suddenly, he realized what he was looking at, and what he'd just fought.

  His mind fought against the truth. The legs, the head, the short wings, the long, twitching antennae, the strange shape of the body. Here in the bowels of the hospital, Kyle had just done combat with a vicious, magically powerful spirit. And that spirit had the form of an enormous, hideous, stinking brown cockroach.

  13

  Kyle lay there in astral space, his back wracked with pain from the slashing by the cockroach spirit's legs. The pain was severe, but the injuries didn't feel life-threatening. His body, back in the Truman condoplex, had manifested the physical effects of the spirit's astral attack, but Kyle had the pain all to himself. The spirit itself was gone, destroyed. He turned his head to look at the two Knight Errant troopers.

  The ork had applied a trauma patch to the mage's shoulder in an attempt to stop the heavy bleeding. Kyle could see the man's aura flickering; he was unconscious and unable to help heal his own body. Kyle didn't know if he himself had enough energy merely to try and stabilize him. If he'd been physically present and this injured, he wouldn't give it a sec­ond thought. Being present only in astral space was another matter, for he risked injury to himself if he tried to heal another.

  But Kyle didn't have to heal the man, only stop him from d
ying. He willed himself to float toward the injured mage to examine him more closely.

  There. A power focus in the form of a bracelet on the ma­gician's left hand. Without that link from the astral world to the physical one—the circuit of power from astral space, through the focus, into the mage—Kyle wouldn't have been able to help him. But the active focus made all the difference.

  Kyle reached out and placed one hand on the man's heart, the other on his left hand at the focus. He would have to slow the man's metabolism, slow his respiration and heart beat, slow his body down to where critical seconds became critical minutes. Kyle picked a rhythm in astral space, the slow beat of ambient energy, and slowed his to match it.

  The ork realized something was happening, and stepped back, pulling his sidearm clear as a dull halo of green energy began to surround the injured man. The ork's eyes searched the area, but he could see no target, nothing against which to protect his friend. Then, as the energy flowed around the mage, the ork's radio crackled to life.

  Kyle couldn't make out the words that came over it; they were an electronic signal, cold, lifeless, and meaningless to his perceptions in astral space. But the ork's reply was clear.

  "Roger, roger!" he shouted into his throat mike. "Officer down, ground floor near the loading dock. I need a trauma alert and another mage. Something's happening down here!"

  Kyle felt the injured man respond, his body sliding into synchrony with the rhythm Kyle was providing it. The blood flow slowed, nearly stopping. If Knight Errant could get a medic or another magician with healing spells here in time, he would survive.

  "Roger that!" said me ork trooper. "One bug down here. Repeat one bug down!" The radio crackled in reply, and the ork returned his attention to his companion. Kyle backed away. There was little chance the ork would notice him. The emotions and lingering energy from the fight with the spirit were dampening any of Kyle's own aura that might have leaked into the physical world, but he still didn't relish the sensation of being pushed aside by the trooper's Signifi­cantly greater mass.

  He looked around. There were no physical signs of the magical battle that had just taken place, only the physical ef­fects of the weapons fire and sprayed blood. He heard foot­steps running toward him from where the cockroach spirit had been standing. Kyle shot in that direction, wincing at the pain that coursed through him. He quickly passed a field medic and another trooper. Far beyond them, way down the hall, he could see another trooper covering their movement.

  Kyle willed himself in that direction, and found the trooper also guarding an injured hospital guard who sat in a small pool of blood. Continuing on, he passed through a pair of swinging doors, and into the what seemed to be the hospital's shipping and receiving area.

  There had been a fight here, a pitched battle, from the look of it. Kyle saw six bodies, two were Knight Errant and two seemed to be hospital employees probably caught in the crossfire. The last two looked human at first glance, but even though they were dead and their auras long vanished, Kyle could sense something wrong about them.

  "Secure the site!" a familiar voice yelled, "Cover the bodies!"

  Kyle turned and saw Lieutenant Facile in full combat gear, one arm bandaged and bloody, leaning against a pile of boxes. A doctor or nurse—Kyle couldn't tell which—tended him. Despite his injury, Facile's aura seemed strong. Kyle quickly floated over to him and slowly made himself visible.

  Across me room, a half-dozen weapons instantly turned on him. None fired as he held his hands in a submissive raised position.

  "Facile," Kyle said, as the lieutenant stepped in front of the woman assisting him and used his good arm to draw his heavy pistol. "It's Kyle Teller."

  "Son of a bitch!" Facile said. "What the frag are you doing—"

  "I killed one of the roach spirits down the hall from here." Kyle pointed back in the direction he'd come. "One of your mages got torn up pretty bad, but I was able to stabilize him." He paused to let those words sink in. "Mind telling me what's going on?"

  Facile had turned to look in the direction Kyle had pointed, then relaxed and reholstered the weapon. It was another few moments before the frightened nurse resumed work on his arm. "Fraggin' bugs attacked the hospital in force," he told Kyle, gesturing at me two strange bodies now being covered. "At least four true forms and a half-dozen or so of these clean flesh forms."

  "Flesh forms? True forms?" Kyle asked him. "What's the difference?"

  Facile gestured again at the pair of now covered bodies. "We call these pieces of trash flesh forms. They're possessed by bug spirits, but they look human. Most that get possessed aren't this lucky. True forms just look like fraggin' big versions of the real bug."

  "Where's the boy?" Kyle asked.

  Facile pointed toward where Kyle took me loading dock door to be. The physical details of me concrete and metal room were nearly indistinguishable to him. “Took him away in a car waiting out there.”

  Kyle was about to head in that direction, but Facile stopped him. "Don't bother! I don't even have a make on the car." He pointed at the dead troopers. "They're the only ones who saw it."

  “No idea which way it went?”

  "None."

  "Security tapes?" Kyle looked around the room to see whether it contained any dull machinery that might be a camera.

  Facile shook his head as the woman administering to him stepped away. “They hit the security room first after eating our sentry spirits. Trashed all the digital storage. Backups were in the same room.”

  Kyle nodded. "I'm at the Truman condoplex. Let me know right away if anything else turns up."

  Facile almost seemed to laugh. "I'm sure Captain Ravenheart will call you once she's done chewing us up here."

  Kyle shifted out of his physical manifestation and acceler­ated at maximum speed across the short space of city.

  * * * *

  Back at the Truman house the patio area around his body was quite a mess. Apparently the roach spirit had hit Kyle hard, not only on the back but on his left leg as well. His body had apparently thrashed, sending blood pouring from the sudden wounds. Hanna was seated across the patio being assisted by one of the other staff members. Kyle also noticed that Dan Truman was standing watch over his physical body, along with Seeks-the-Moon and two of Truman's personal— not Knight Errant—guards. Someone had already administered emergency first aid to his body. In spirit form, he'd barely felt it.

  Kyle called out mentally, "Moon!"

  "Yes!" came the clear reply as the spirit looked up at him. "Are you well?'

  "Well enough. How bad do I look?"

  "You've been worse," Moon said. "You've made quite a mess of the patio, though, and I'm afraid your friend Ms. Uljaken was a little unprepared for your spontaneous wounding."

  Kyle laughed, and then commanded Charlotte, who immediately appeared in astral space.

  "The two are dead?" she asked him. Kyle nodded, recognizing the empty spaces within himself for both spirits, the second apparently destroyed when it moved to help him against the roach spirit.

  "We're fighting what seem to be some kind of insect spirits." With those words, Kyle saw Seeks-the-Moon's face blanch and his powerful aura waver, for just a fraction of an instant. Even the air elemental, normally supremely detached, seemed to shudder. Kyle was surprised; he'd never heard of such spirits before either.

  "I understand," said Charlotte. "I will try to serve you well."

  Again, Kyle was surprised by the tone of near finality in the spirit's words. "Good," he said, "Stay alert."

  "They will not pass me," Charlotte assured him, then van­ished.

  Kyle willed himself back into his body, re-forming flesh and spirit into one, but instantly regretted the decision. The pain was terrible, and he felt his body spasm as he reacted to it.

  Dan Truman started to speak, probably wanting to know what had happened at the hospital, but Kyle held up his hand. Seeks-the-Moon also reached out and placed a hand on Truman's arm to still him. His body wa
nted to sleep, but Kyle knew he couldn't.

  He sat up slowly and felt Seeks-the-Moon's strong hands under him, helping him into a chair. "Thank you," Kyle said.

  "What's happening?" Truman asked, unable to restrain himself any longer. "Your spirit here wouldn't tell me a thing."

  "I'm afraid your son's been kidnapped."

  "Oh my god . . ." said Truman.

  Looking pale and shaky, Hanna had also joined them. "Why?" she said. "Why would they take him now?"

  "All I know is that they did. Knight Errant couldn't stop them. It's a real mess over there."

  "How did it happen?" she asked.

  "Remember Ares was looking for information on 'aber­rant spirits'?"

  Hanna nodded.

  "Well, they found some," Kyle told her.

  "What do you mean?"

  “I fought one. A powerful thing. I'm lucky there was only one. Fraggin' thing looked like a huge insect. You won't be­lieve this—like a giant cockroach."

  Seeks-the-Moon paled, and his existence seemed to flicker in the physical world for the briefest instant. Both Truman and Hanna also drew back in silent revulsion.

  “That's all I know," Kyle said. "It was bigger than I am, and looked just like an enormous roach. The Knight Errant troopers seemed to know what they were and referred to them as 'bugs'."

  Truman's eyes were fire-bright. "I don't really know what you're talking about, Mr. Teller, but it scares me cold. I'm going to call Damien Knight about this. Let's see just how good a pair of friends he and I really are."

  Kyle held up his hand. "If I could suggest something . . ."

  Truman stopped and turned back. "Yes?"

  "Knight Errant now knows that I know at least something about these 'bugs'," Kyle said, "and that I've probably told you. Let's see what they do. Let's see what they decide to tell us."

  Truman nodded. "All right. I see your logic. Their hand's shown. Let's see if they still insist on bluffing. Fair enough." His gaze turned back toward the interior of the plex. Beyond the dark plastiglass of the patio door Kyle could see a couple of vague shapes waiting impatiently.