Shadowrun: Burning Bright

by Tom Dowd

  Surprised, Kyle said, "Wait, the UCAS government knew about the Brotherhood, about the bugs, before this happened."

  She nodded. "Chip-truth. Did they do anything except argue about what they should do? No. Were they working under a deadline now that the Brotherhood knew their secret was out? You bet your fraggin' hide they were. The best the government could agree to do was shut the Brotherhood down as a fiscal entity. Sure, they staged some raids, but they couldn't be convinced this wasn't a small, easily manageable problem."

  "But if you people at Ares knew, why didn't you brief them earlier?" Kyle could barely control his anger.

  Ravenheart's eyes hardened. "Do you really think their response would have been different? Please. With a wonderfully blind eye to its own history, the UCAS government barely acknowledges the fact that there's magic in the world, let alone that it's a real threat to national security on this kind of scale. Plus, if we'd told them, they'd have probably started taking steps to prevent us from dealing with the problem. You know how touchy they are about multinational strike teams hitting civilian targets."

  "So now it's all gone to slot," Kyle said. "The bugs have torn this city apart and in less than two days everything in it is going to die. Why the frag didn't you at least tell them when you found the nest? And why the frag didn't you just roll in a couple trillion liters of that nerve agent instead of going in guns blazing?"

  Ravenheart paused, visibly trying to calm herself. Kyle knew he was provoking her, but he didn't care. The bulldrek and the games that her company had been playing for years had cost untold thousands of lives, two of which were potentially more important to him than anything else in this world.

  "I didn't know about the effectiveness of the pesticides until a few hours ago," she said in measured tones. "I pre­sume our people were thinking like you had been, that chemicals wouldn't be a direct against spirits. As for why we didn't alert the government about the presence of a huge nest in a major urban center . . ." Ravenheart stopped, seeming to reflect for a moment. "I couldn't say. I've wondered myself, but you'd have to ask Roger Soaring Owl or Damien Knight. All I know is I had my orders then, and god help us all, I have my orders now."

  Kyle glanced at Seeks-the-Moon, who returned the look with a tilt of me head. "And those orders are?"

  She looked away and said nothing, but Kyle could see she was thinking. Her orders were probably confidential and she was debating whether to reveal them.

  "Look," he said. "Something has to be done. If we're going to—"

  She nodded vigorously and waved her hand at him. "I know. I know. I agree." She sighed and shook her head. "The pleasures of field command," she said half under her breath, and then shifted in her seat to more directly face Kyle.

  "Soaring Owl believes, as we've discussed, that if this was the main nest, it will re-form for the same reasons that brought it into being in the first place. He wants us to find it and do something about it before the deadline."

  "How the frag are we supposed to find it?" Kyle asked her, and then the answer hit him. “The garnering spots,” he said slowly.

  She nodded. "We've been disrupting them as we find them, but if we watch them instead, we can follow a group as they're taken for investiture. That should lead us to the main hive."

  "You're betting a lot on the hope that one of the spots you're watching will be tapped before time runs out."

  She nodded again. "Yes, we are. But while you were gone we added two more sites to our list, and one of those is pretty much overloaded. I think that one will go next."

  "Then what?"

  "Then," she said, "then we deal with the fraggin' nest."

  "How?" Kyle asked. "You had a small army before, and failed. How can you expect to take them on again with less man two dozen people?"

  She tensed slightly. "We have a weapon . . ."

  "Damocles?" Kyle asked, a numbness beginning in his stomach.

  Her eyes widened and he saw her arm flinch toward her pistol. "How the frag do you know—"

  "I was in the command van, remember?" he said. "Soar­ing Owl activated it just before the van got torn apart."

  She looked away, nodding. "I thought it looked like it had been prepping for launch."

  "I take it the drone was in a truck a few blocks away from the main trucks?"

  She nodded again. "Yes. We recovered it and the launch system when we moved to the first safehouse."

  "It's operational?"

  "The payload is, and I've been ordered to use it," Ravenheart said. "I've been ordered to find the new main hive and nuke the thing straight to hell."

  28

  "Give me some other choice," Anne Ravenheart said. "Any­thing at all—I'll take it. By all the gods I swear I'll take it." She was agitated, pacing before the gathered troopers. Kyle and Seeks-the-Moon had convinced her that this was a situ­ation that went beyond corporate loyalty, beyond chains of command and "eyes-only" orders. Reluctantly, she'd agreed.

  Kyle had been startled by the reaction of the group once the full situation, in all its terrible details, was presented to them. Most of the Ares troopers seemed not to question the need to use a nuclear weapon against the main hive.

  A few seemed nervous and not so sure after Kyle pointed out that a nuclear weapon had been detonated only five times in anger since its invention over a century ago—the two dropped on Japan in 1945 and the three on Libya by the Israelis in 2004. Then the ork trooper, Douglas, brought up another disturbing point. Ever since the Great Ghost Dance that had broken the back of the old United States and forced the return of most of western North America to Native American control, there was no guarantee a nuclear weapon would detonate at all.

  "What about, what was it, the Lone Eagle?” the ork asked, looking about the group for confirmation. "Those Indian terrorists launched a nuclear missile at Russia, but it didn't go off. How do we know this one will?"

  Kyle turned toward Ravenheart. "I heard other rumors too when I was with the government. More recent stuff. Any ideas?"

  She shrugged, but didn't answer right away. "Not really. All I can say for sure is that test nuclear weapons have been successfully detonated since the Ghost Dance, and I can only presume that Ares wouldn't have built a last-ditch defense around an untried weapon."

  "It'll blow," said the Asian trooper, Lim. "I don't mink even magic can selectively dampen a subatomic reaction based on whether or not it came from a weapon."

  "But we don't know for sure," said Douglas, looking directly at Ravenheart. Kyle could see that the thought of using a nuke frightened the ork as much as it did him. They seemed to be in the minority, however, which was not too surprising, considering the nature of the group.

  "How much damage are we talking about?" he asked Ravenheart.

  She sighed. "It's just about the smallest yield you can achieve, half a kiloton. Significantly smaller than what was dropped on Hiroshima, fourteen kilotons, or what the Israelis used on Libya, about a hundred kilotons per warhead."

  "How much damage?" he asked again.

  Ravenheart scowled, obviously trying to remember facts learned long ago. She started to speak, but Vathoss cut in.

  "Everyone exposed to the unimpeded blast, out to about one to two hundred meters, will be killed instantly. The full blast itself will carry to about twelve hundred meters or so—breaking windows, starting fires, tossing light debris, and immediately killing about a third of the people exposed. Roughly a third of that number will die later."

  He paused for a moment and let that settle in. "Since we're talking about a ground burst, there will be long-term radiation effects within about a five-hundred meter area around the blast. The ground burst may lessen immediate ca­sualties, but it will increase long-term fatalities. There's also the problem of ground-water contamination and prolonged fallout."

  "How many dead?" Kyle asked.

  Vathoss shrugged. "Thousands. Tens of thousands. De­pends on where it detonates."

  Ravenheart, hands on hi
ps, had been looking down at the ground while her subordinate was speaking. Finally, she looked up. "Thank you, Sergeant," she said coldly. "I didn't know you were such an expert."

  Vathoss matched her stare. "I know what I need to know."

  "Then it depends on where the nest is, doesn't it?" said Douglas, ignoring the stare-down. "If it's in a populated area, we've got to find some other way."

  "It's too late," Ravenheart said, turning toward him. "We're out of time and we're out of options. The nest may be closer to opening its cocoons then we think. All our num­bers are just guesses. Even if we knew where the nest was and went directly there from here, we could still be too late."

  Kyle shook his head. "But we can't be the ones to decide this. It affects too many people."

  "Then who?" asked Ravenheart.

  "The government."

  "They have decided—they're going to spray the city."

  "Then we have to advise them of the alternatives," Kyle said. "Has your boss told them that the hive might regroup? That you're in position to do something?"

  Ravenheart shook her head and smiled lightly. "And said what? Mr. President, we have an elite strike team in position in Chicago prepared to detonate a nuclear weapon. All you have to do is give the word." She shook her head again. "Pardon me, but I don't think Thomas Steele is going to give a megacorp permission to nuke one of his cities."

  Ravenheart let her gaze take in the whole group. "Like I said, show me another alternative and I'll take it."

  Kyle nodded. "Believe me. If I can think of something, you'll know in a tick. Meanwhile we should probably be preparing as if we were going to use the drone." He looked around and saw resignation in the eyes of everyone gathered around him. Seeks-the-Moon stood silently off to one side. Kyle regarded him for a moment "What about you? Do you have an opinion on this?"

  The spirit blinked and laughed lightly. "I do, but it is of no matter."

  "Why not?"

  "Because this is your land, your city, your people," he said. "Not mine. Regardless of what happens, I can leave."

  “True enough," Kyle said. "But I'd still like to know what you think."

  The spirit stared at him for a few moments, then finally said, "I think your people have often chosen one terrible so­lution to combat another. It is your way of things, something you understand."

  "So then you think this is a bad idea."

  "I didn't say that. If the birthing is not interrupted, it may be unstoppable. Already there are thousands dead in the city. What is the price of a few thousand more against what you fear?”

  "Will you help us?"

  Seeks-the-Moon paused again before turning away to stare at nothing.

  "Will you help us?" Kyle repeated.

  "I don't know."

  "While you're deciding, will you at least help me find my wife and daughter?"

  The spirit looked back at him. "That I will do."

  * * * *

  The walk out to Ellen Shaw's apartment would have been a long one, so Kyle and Seeks-the-Moon borrowed the talents of one of the Knight Errant troopers and commandeered a dirty, beat-up Chrysler-Nissan Jackrabbit that was sitting in the building's parking lot. The car's battery charge was three-quarters full, so it took almost another half hour to top it off using the building's still-active power system. Kyle had heard of power outages occurring in parts of the city where power lines or poles had fallen, but so far most of the containment area still enjoyed basic utilities. Natural gas service, though, had been discontinued to much of the area, presumably for fear of fires and explosions.

  Kyle and Seeks-the-Moon took the car quickly along Addison to Western, not wanting a repeat of the gang confrontation on Ashland. There, they turned south. The traffic lights still worked, for the most part, but Kyle ignored them. Down the length of the major north-south artery, they saw only four other cars in use. Each, packed with youths, eyed them suspiciously but otherwise left them alone.

  "How long before they think of raising barricades to control their land?" Seeks-the-Moon asked.

  Kyle had no answer, though he'd been wondering exactly same thing.

  They continued south, past a stretch of streets near Chicago Avenue that was just charred rubble. It reminded Kyle of pictures he'd seen from wartime. Not a single soul was in sight

  Without any warning, the car suddenly lurched as the sloped rear of the Jackrabbit buckled and shattered. Kyle slammed on the brakes, and turned to look as a sickly sweet odor reached him and the insect spirit began to chitter at a terrible pitch. Metal shrieked and tore as the back of the car peeled away easily, one of the ant's long, gleaming black legs kicking it in. The braking car had thrown the creature off balance, and its sharp leg cut between Kyle and Seeks-the-Moon, ripping the seat and shattering the windshield.

  The ant spirit thrust its head forward, tearing more of the car and itself in an attempt to get its mandibles near its prey. Neither Kyle nor Seeks-the-Moon could get a spell off as the car skidded to a halt, turning and sliding to the left. The ant, beginning to spit some glossy, semi-liquid spume, surged forward again, bending the top of the car. Both Kyle and Moon dove from the car.

  Cluttering and frenzied, the black ant pulled back, free of the car, a piece of the rear seat dangling from one of its mandibles. Its head moved side to side, looking from Kyle to Seeks-the-Moon, then it backed up slightly as it saw the power gathering around both of them.

  Twin bolts of crimson energy, one slightly darker than the other, struck the ant simultaneously. It stepped back again, screeching and twisting its head and spraying drops of the greenish fluid that now oozed from it. Then it seemed to recover and rushed directly at Kyle.

  But Kyle was ready. His foci were all active, and none of his attention was diverted to their masking. The spirit lunged, and Kyle released a different spell—a simple, focused dart of power backed by everything he had. It caught the charging ant head-on, penetrating deep in a flash of power. In the same instant, the rear of the ant's form was engulfed in a sickly green substance that pulled it to the ground, stopping its rush and slamming its head down onto the pavement. Kyle stepped back as the creature thrashed, its big head cracked and oozing. He readied another spell, felt Seeks-the-Moon doing the same, and then watched as the ant spirit thrust itself upward in a final act of defiance before suddenly losing cohesion, its form drifting apart and streaming away in an unfelt breeze.

  Kyle and Seeks-the-Moon stared at the creature until its form was completely gone. "Come on!" Kyle shouted, rushing back to the still running car. He threw himself behind the wheel and had the vehicle gunned and accelerating away even before Moon had shut the door behind him. When they were clear and saw no other signs of insect spirits, Kyle turned to Seeks-the-Moon. "Why didn't you just slip into astral space?" he asked.

  "What?"

  "When the ant attacked, why did you wait until the car had stopped and you could use the door."

  The spirit stared at him blankly and then Kyle saw quick realization dawn on the spirit's face. His eyes widening, Seeks-the-Moon laughed. Very loudly.

  “I think you are a bad influence on me," he said, continuing to laugh as they drove on.

  * * * *

  Turning at the intersection of Ogden with Western, they headed southwest into the township of Cicero, which was not part of the city of Chicago, but was still within the Containment Zone. Kyle knew the area fairly well and was able to find his sister-in-law's apartment quickly. The street was as quiet as the last time, but now he could see signs of abandonment. Only one house, a structure across the street from Ellen Shaw's apartment building, still looked inhabited, and now resembled a fortress.

  Kyle pulled up onto the curb and into the courtyard of the building, scraping the passenger side of the car against part of the iron fence that used to stand there. Then he turned the car off and let the engine wind down. He considered leaving it running in case they needed a fast getaway, but decided that the risk of theft was potentially greater than t
he likelihood of quick flight.

  "Do you wish me to check inside?" Seeks-the-Moon asked Kyle as they studied the section of the building where Ellen Shaw had her apartment.

  "Wait one second," Kyle said as he stepped forward and pushed against the front door. It swung open easily, both lock and frame smashed.

  "Drek," Kyle said, looking up toward the apartment

  "Looters?" asked Seeks-the-Moon.

  "Maybe. Do you want to check ahead?"

  The spirit grinned slightly. "It was you who reminded me of my abilities, remember?"

  Kyle nodded. "Go ahead, but step into me foyer so that anyone watching won't see you disappear. Ellen's apartment is on this side"—he pointed south—"two floors up."

  The spirit nodded and stepped through the door, with Kyle close behind. Even before completely entering the trash-strewn entranceway, Seeks-the-Moon faded from view. Kyle pulled his gun, an Ares Predator II heavy pistol Ravenheart had given him, and waited. But the gun was only clear of the holster a moment before the spirit returned.

  Seeks-the-Moon was shaking his head. "The apartment is empty and looks like it's been ransacked."

  "Looters."

  Kyle and the spirit climbed the old staircase to the first door on the second landing. Here too the lock and frame had been shattered, and then Kyle remembered that he'd done the damage himself with one of his own spells the last time. It didn't look like anyone had tried to repair the damage, even temporarily, in the interim.

  Kyle pushed the door open, holstering his pistol as he en­tered. The apartment had indeed been looted, with little of value left behind. Most of the appliances were gone, as were the electronics and the food from the kitchen. In the bed­room, Kyle saw that clothes had been pulled from the closets and dresser. He couldn't tell if any of their contents were missing, but the bedclothes were gone.

  Then, in one corner of the dining room, where random trash and debris had apparently been pushed, Kyle found a small padded chip-book carrier. It was identical to the one he'd given Natalie two years ago for Christmas, and the more he stared at it and turned it over in his hands, the more certain he was that it was hers.