Shadowrun: Spells & Chrome

by John Helfers

  His eyebrows arched up.

  Something started banging loudly on the door. I jumped, not expecting it.

  “They’ve started hacking the door,” he said.

  It sounded more like they were banging on it.

  He wasn’t going to answer me. And if it was true, and Kazuma Tetsu was a Technomancer, could I blame him for being quiet? Given the current climate? He worked for a powerful mega-corps, for crying out loud. If they even had a slight bug up their butt that someone in their security department could do what he could, he’d vanish from the registry of the living so fast even Naomi wouldn’t remember him.

  The banging continued as I did what Kazuma suggested. Two pushes on the panel by his head and the bag and gear fit just inside. I replaced the panel and watched as Kazuma’s physical left hand came up and typed again on an invisible keyboard.

  I heard the click. I also heard the whine from the door as well.

  Shit.

  I placed the commlink in his hand and he held onto it. And I knew if I still had his sister’s ‘link on I’d see his ID flash up in an AR window. I removed the hidden holster from Kazuma and placed it on my own waist—it barely fit. I was a bit wider than my elven friend. The Fichetti fit easily into the hidden seam of my coat as I slipped it back on.

  “I found their IDs,” Kazuma said softly as I put his coat back on him as well. “The ork’s name is Harold Burton—limited enhancements; cyber-eyes, right arm, and an artificial heart. He’s blind in his right eye—has a down payment on a new eye.”

  I was impressed—this guy was hacking into their actual records—not spoofed ones.

  “The human is Sylvester Van. He’s had a half-replacement of a cyber-brain. His left eye is equipped with a target laser that is connected wirelessly to the firearm. He carries a katana—but isn’t as skilled at using it yet. He has a blog—and his third lesson is tomorrow at noon. He has aspirations of being a samurai.”

  With that I had to laugh as I braced for the door to open.

  “The one hacking is called...” Kazuma frowned. “I can’t—” he winced and suddenly put his hand to his ears.

  The door opened with an ear-shattering bang.

  Sylvester—Chromedome—was the first one in and he pointed his katana directly into Kazuma’s chest. I couldn’t tell from my angle if it slid in or not. I hoped like hell it hadn’t. “Found him! He’s in here!” He moved the blade’s end to the pin on this lapel. “And he’s Knight Errant.”

  Seeing me, he moved the blade into my face and I held up the Colt in one of my hands. “Don’t kill us—this man was wounded. Just let us leave and no will—”

  “Shut the hell up!” Sylvester yelled. He jabbed me with the end of the blade, right into my chest. Luckily it only pierced the leather of my coat and not my skin—but he didn’t have to know that. I made the appropriate noise and allowed him to grab the Colt from me.

  “Get out of here,” he said as he pulled on my collar and yanked me to my feet. He might be stupid—but was definitely strong. Pulling me out of the room, he pretty much tossed me to the right and into the arms of the ork, Harold.

  I really had to squelch a laugh at that one. And that wasn’t hard seeing as how his fist made contact with my face.

  His cyber-enhanced fist.

  I saw stars before I even hit the ground. I’d also managed to fly over the coffee bar at the same time. The force of the blow was supposed to incapacitate me.

  And it almost did.

  Almost.

  I landed against the far wall—close to where Kazuma was originally shot—and just lay there, waiting for the room to stop spinning. I watched as they yanked Kazuma out of the room as well—and he half-stumbled, half-walked as he was presented to the Hacker behind the counter by Sylvester.

  The hacker narrowed his eyes at Kazuma, and I suspected he had smart lenses on, reading the ID tag from the now active commlink. “Well, a Knight Errant boy,” he said in a voice full of phlegm.

  I took that moment and tried to focus on the cameras. They were moving independently, zeroing in on me, on the front door and on the scene at the bar. Was that Kazuma?

  A cry from that side of the room caught my attention and I looked back in time to see Harold using his huge cyber arm to squeeze Kazuma’s wounded shoulder.

  Damn—if they kept that up he was going to pass out. I wasn’t sure what the rules were for Technomancers, but I was pretty confident if he went unconscious, whatever he was doing in the PAN would stop. And then the doors would be open and these shit-heads could go free.

  The hacker grabbed Kazuma’s chin and turned his face to look at him. “You realize what you just did? How much nuyen you just lost us? All I had to do was retrieve one file, one damned file—and you destroyed my gateway.” He leaned in close. “Your ID doesn’t say it—but that accomplishment tells me you’re pretty rich with the KE cred—which means you have codes. And I want those codes,” he removed his hand and then produced one hell of a rifle and pointed it at me where I half-lay, half-sat in a dazed heap on the other side of the room. “Or I shoot the old guy.”

  Old guy?

  Kazuma’s eyelids flickered and he slumped forward. The Hacker cursed again and then moved the rifle over Kazuma’s shoulder to point at Sylvester’s head. “You overdid it!”

  Harold came from the back, a scowl on his face, his tusks grinding back and forth. “Jarod—the main server is back there. I found an access jack—but I can’t even start to hack in. Everytime I try to I get bounced back.”

  Jarod nodded. “No, but this kid can. And he will—” he looked at Sylvester. “Get that juice—the stuff you got off that kid you geeked last week.”

  Sylvester looked crestfallen. “Aw, man. That’s my stash—besides, if you give it to the dandelion eater, he might die.”

  “I don’t give a shit as long as he’s awake enough to give me the codes,” he pursed his lips.

  “Can’t you just hack his ‘link?”

  “The codes aren’t in his ‘link, drek-head,” Jarod said. “Knight Errant security keeps the codes closely monitored—they’re changed out during sporadic intervals and each Errant Agent is given the secure location for those codes. He’ll have to give them to me himself.”

  As I lay there, watching and listening—feigning being wounded but not feigning that much—I was amazed at how much this drek-head knew about Knight Errant protocols. Either his Johnson had given him the information or he’d actually worked for KE as an Agent at some point.

  Either way, I needed a distraction. As Kazuma anticipated, they didn’t frisk me for any more weapons—taking the most obvious. I still had access to the Fichetti—but I would need some sort of distraction to draw it. Any movement on my part might compromise whatever Kazuma had in mind.

  Though at the moment I wasn’t sure how any of this was gonna work, since he was out cold. And from the blood pooling on the floor—I didn’t give the elf much more time in this world.

  “Wake him up,” Jarod said. “If nothing else, we need him to release the doors. We’ll take him with us and find a good shaman to take the information from his brain.”

  Uh oh. I honestly didn’t know if that was possible—but the image of Naomi furious at me—that was very possible.

  As if on cue, the side soy steamer came on, sending a hot, steaming blast against the counter. This caused the machine to wrench and fall forward.

  It was funny, but it wasn’t. All three of the shit-heads turned and fired on the poor steamer, riddling it full of holes. Kazuma fell to the floor in a dark heap on his right side, his face turned away from me. He was still.

  A little too still.

  “Stopstopstopstop...” Jarod called out. The shooting ceased. The steamer, dead.

  And the Fichetti was in my hand, concealed and fully loaded. Thirty rounds of ammo—and the bastards weren’t even paying attention.

  The blender abruptly came on as well. Full of something the barista had been making before the ork barge
d in, now slurped and spewed into the air, splattering the three amigos.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Jarod called out.

  “Otaku!” Sylvester shouted and ran to the front door. He banged on it repeatedly and tried to wrench it open. “There’s a ghost in this system—”

  I was up on my knees, tugging at the downed shelf I’d used earlier for cover and used it again as I filled Sylvester with a good dozen holes, then without letting go of the trigger I moved the gun to the bar and nailed Harold when Jarod ducked.

  With a grunt I released the trigger. Damn. I got to get me one of these!

  Silence was golden in the room and I could hear Jarod breathing. I was sure he was trying his damnedest to open the doors through the PAN—I could hear the circuitry vibrating. But he wasn’t breaking through Kazuma’s security.

  And that’s when I’d made my mistake—glancing back at the doors as they moved on their own. Jarod was up and moving around the bar, his weapon trained on my head. Idiot!

  “You’re a Technomancer...aren’t you? You’re the one messing with everything. I can’t hack in or out of anything—there’s something in there—in the door to Horizon. It was some monster you put in there, wasn’t it? You can’t—” and he was looking around at something I sure as hell couldn’t see. “What is that?”

  I tried to bring my gun up, and his attention was on me again.

  “Damned freak—” he started to scream and I saw his finger tightening on the trigger. I pulled my pistol up, knowing I’d be too late—

  And then a hole abruptly appeared in the center of his forehead. Bone, flesh and gray matter flew out and he lowered his gun, and fell backward.

  I looked past him to see Kazuma standing by the bar, his left hand holding my Colt, a half-smile on his pale face. I was still half laying on the ground behind the shelf as he straightened and very calmly walked over the broken glass, ceramic, and blood to me as he pocketed my gun, then held his hand out to me.

  I stared at it as if it had nine fingers, but I took it and he sort of helped me to a standing position. My head ached, and I was thinking maybe I should throw back one of those pills he kept in his bag.

  The doors suddenly released, opening just a tad and I noticed the cameras moving back to their original positions. I could see men in uniforms moving in from their hidden positions in the streets around us.

  Then he had my gun in his left hand again, spun it around and handed it back to me, hilt first.

  I took it and offered him his. He shook his head. “Not...yet.”

  “You weren’t as badly hit as I thought,” I said as I re-holstered the Colt. “Were you?”

  “Sukoshi,” he nodded. “I am. But I at least had to make sure you survived this little venture.” He gave me a half smile. “Or Auntie Naomi would never forgive me.”

  “Auntie?”

  His smile faded. “Uh oh—”

  “What is it?”

  “If you’d be so kind as to keep my gun, holster and the bag hidden back there,” he started to lean at a weird angle. “I’m going to politely...pass out.”

  I caught him as he fell forward into my arms.

  • • •

  Three days later, I found myself actually inside one of the dormitory complexes for Knight Errant. It was located in the Bunker Hills area, and it took three levels of security, as well as the presence of a bandaged but healthier looking Kazuma Tetsu to escort me to his apartment.

  It was a nice place. Spacious and completely automated. There was an ambient light change as I stepped in front of the sensors.

  “It’s looking for your ‘link,” Kazuma said as he moved to one of the white, cushioned couches in front of a roaring fire. It was close to nine and my transport back to Seattle left at midnight. Flanking the fireplace were floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking greater Los Angeles. “If you had one, you’d be given a choice of decor preferences.”

  I shook my head as I stepped down to the living area. Kazuma moved to a bar and pointed to the well-stocked shelf. I nodded and he poured me a scotch, wet. He knew his stuff. And when I tasted it—it was the real thing. Not synthohol. It burned all the way down.

  He sat on one of the sofas and I sat on the other. His right arm was still in a sling—fixed to his chest to restrict movement. Apparently he was allergic to several of the latest muscle mending medications and had to let it heal naturally. He had a ceramic, green cup in his hand. Tea, I assumed.

  I set the glass on the coffee table between us and retrieved his bag from my jacket. Kazuma immediately dug into it and pulled out the prescription. To my amazement the kid took two of those pills out, popped them into is mouth and took a swig of tea.

  “You get headaches a lot?”

  He nodded and put his left hand to his forehead. “Since the Crash.”

  I chewed on my lower lip. I hated delicate situations—especially since there was nothing delicate about me. “Is that when it happened?”

  He sighed as he looked at me. “I was online, yes. With Hitori, my sister. We were both caught at the same time. When I came to, I was in a KE facility. My grandfather and Hitori were with me. Knight Errant had treated me, as they treated all their employees who were caught. Many died—they said I was lucky.”

  I looked at him. “About your sister—”

  He put up a hand. “As I said in my message. I’m going to step back for the moment. It’s been three weeks. She said when she went to work for Ares that she would be gone a month. As you saw her ‘link was still active, and her apartment is still open.”

  “But don’t you find that a bit strange?” I said. “Why didn’t she take her ‘link with her? Why leave it at her apartment for you to find?”

  Kazuma looked at me. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if the Crash affected her in the same way it affected me. What the other day taught me is that I’m not as prepared for those kinds of surprises as I need to be. I’m not—there’s more I have to learn before I can face what I think is ahead of me. I have to do better at defending myself.”

  “You seem pretty good with a gun.”

  “That doesn’t make me prepared,” Kazuma said. “That makes me lucky. I have a lot to learn, and I have some ideas. But what I’m most concerned about right now is that my secret—what I am—remain a secret. Naomi trusts you. Should I?”

  “Does Noami know...about what you are?”

  Shaking his head, he looked crestfallen. “No. And she can’t. It could compromise her job. They’re on the alert to look for Technomancers—even suspected ones. I can’t,” he winced and put his left hand to his forehead.

  “Headache?”

  He nodded. “There is a song...a sound...that I can’t escape from. It’s in my dreams...and in my thoughts all the time. It’s lulling me into the Matrix...and I’m not sure I can fight it off much longer. There’s no assurance that little things like the coffee shop—that one day they won’t point their fingers at me.”

  “Which is why you keep an active ‘link.”

  “Yes.”

  Sighing, I sat back. “You want me to keep looking for Hitori—in case something happens to you.”

  Kazuma nodded. “I’m going to give you the information. You’ll find it encrypted in your inbox sometimes. Always look for Dancer. That’s my online handle.”

  “So-ka. Is that the icon I saw?”

  He smiled. “It was a drawing my sister made once. She always wanted to be a cartoonist. Hitori would be the only one to recognize it.” Kazuma looked at me. His face was flawless, and his ears hidden artfully beneath his hair. At a glance no one would suspect what he was capable of. “Will you do it? Will you help me and keep my secret?”

  “You’re an idiot, you know that, right? Taking this all on yourself.”

  He smiled. “Baka.”

  “Aho.”

  His eyebrows arched.

  I nodded to him. “You call me the minute you hear anything, and I’ll do the same.” I stood then and moved to the do
or. He was beside me. A good half-centimeter taller, wiry, and lean, the old chummer faces the new.

  “Arigato, Mr. Montgomery.”

  “Chummers call me Dirk.”

  He made a face. “Chummer?”

  “Omae,” I said. “Oyasumi, Tetsu Kazuma,” I used the correct form of his name and bowed.

  Kazuma bowed from the waist as well and nodded. “Oyasumi, Dirk Montgomery, omae.”

  With a nod, I left the apartment and stood just outside the door before strolling down the drive to where a car waited for me, compliments of Kazuma. Tonight was cooler than the previous night when I heard back from my own contacts.

  The hit on the coffee shop was pointless—it’d been nothing more than one of a dozen false hits within a sixty-meter radius that Tuesday—hits on Horizon owned establishments. All of them coordinated with Knight Errant. Code; Caliban.

  That would explain that punk hacker knowing so much. He’d been a plant, a KE mole. Why? I didn’t know.

  Yet.

  I decided to do a bit of digging into Caliban myself—give Kazuma a break. If something snagged, I’d be back in Los Angeles before the sun was up.

  They could count on that.

  No Such Luck

  By Matt Forbeck

  Matt Forbeck has worked full-time on games and fiction since 1989. He has designed collectible card games, roleplaying games, miniatures games, and board games, and written short fiction, comic books, novels, nonfiction, magazine articles, and computer game scripts and stories for companies including Atari, ArenaNet, DK Publishing, High Voltage Software, Turbine, Ubisoft, Del Rey, Wizards of the Coast, Games Workshop, WizKids, Mattel, IDW, Image Comics and Playmates Toys. His first original novels, Amortals and Vegas Knights, hit shelves in the summer of 2010. For more information, visit Forbeck.com.

  “Deal me in,” the dwarf said as he limped along the sumptuous Sioux carpet that sprawled across the wide, polished parquet of rare Yucatan woods. He snickered as he watched the gazes of the men drift inward toward their commlinks, silently demanding that their high-paid security forces earn their exorbitant wages by showing up to take out the trash.