by Mel Odom
“Cheshire Five,” he called over the commlink.
“Don’t believe what you’re seeing, chummer,” Trey said in a fatigued voice. “With the help I’m getting from my friend, you and they have very little choice about seeing exactly what I wish for you to see.” As Trey had explained, water elementals were one of the best resources in making and maintaining illusions. Their basic natures contributed to diffraction and misperception.
Skater’s gut clenched as he barreled down the home stretch. He kept the accelerator pinned to the floor as the barge swelled closer and closer into view. He wanted to scream but he didn’t dare, afraid that the effort might cause him to take his foot from the accelerator.
The barge wasn’t there, he told himself. It was really meters away and gaining distance. All he was seeing was the illusion Trey was projecting with the help of the water elemental. Then he noticed the absence of the UCAS federal crafts’ lights in the sky above. They hadn’t thought to include them in the image Trey would be projecting. Even the smallest details could be forgotten during a planning session and show up big-time during the execution of a run.
His fear that he would smash into the barge and the parked cars subsided, replaced immediately with one that Luppas would somehow see through the illusion. They’d counted on the man pursuing them, not bringing weapons to bear on them as they sailed along on the slow-moving barge.
Then there was no more time. The XE hit the end of the ramp and went flying out over the lake. Skater knew that at once from the way contact with the ground went away and the engine suddenly raced. Moving with the speed of his boosted reflexes, he switched the engine off, decreasing the chances of a ruptured gas line and an explosion when they hit.
Before he’d completed that, the illusion around him went to pieces, the magic weaving it together dispelled back into a dying shimmer because he’d gone through it. All around them were the black lake waters. Overhead, the search lights of the UCAS aircraft burned holes in the night.
The car’s trajectory fragmented. It wasn’t built to be aerodynamic. Caught in the wind, out of momentum, it turned nose down.
Skater hit the manual airbag deployment, wishing Archangel hadn’t been along for the ride. The plastimesh airbags swelled in front of them immediately, blotting out any view through the windshield of the water waiting to drink them down just beyond. The airbags were larger than normal by design, installed by the rigger who’d done the work on the car. Giant pillows that actually pressed them back into their seats. Still, the impact when they hit the water almost knocked Skater out.
Dazed, he barely felt the cold water streaming in the broken and open windows as the car sank. He made himself move, afraid the lethargy would keep him down. Every second he stayed in the XE drew him further down into the thirsty black of the lake.
He concentrated on Emma, on holding her again, on just taking time with her during a day that didn’t involve the imminent threat of death. For a moment he thought he was going to be trapped by the airbag, then he reached down and managed to slip his dagger from his boot.
He cut a large hole in the side of the bag. The air gurgled out in one long bubble that fractured and divided on its way up, somehow managing to turn silvery along the edges in spite of the darkness. The pull of the water lifted from him, but he could feel the car drifting further down.
Seeing Archangel still trapped by her airbag, he cut it open too, then grabbed her wrist because she was unconscious. It took him two tries to get the broken windshield out of the way. He pushed through, bringing her with him. He stroked for the surface, pulling Archangel along after him.
For a moment he was lost, not knowing if he had enough air in his lungs to reach the surface. Then his hand was through. A second later, he pulled Archangel into the air with him, holding her tight. He looked down at her face, checking for any injuries that might have been life-threatening.
Without warning, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. She grew stiff in his arms and pushed away.
Skater let her go, stroking only hard enough to keep himself afloat. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she replied.
Skater turned in the water, looking back where the illusion had been. Only the Brumby and the first vehicle after it had driven off the wharf into the lake. The Brumby floated, mostly, but it was being pulled down.
In an eyeblink, an incredible surge of twisting water jetted up from the lake surface, then slammed back down across the vehicles in its liquid embrace. They were engulfed at once, dragged under and disappearing completely. Skater knew it was the water elemental serving Cullen Trey. Still, the breakers that washed over him gave him chills. It wasn’t good to think about dying that way after they’d come so close to it themselves.
Mercs along the lakeside fired out into the water and at the barge almost eighty meters distant. Only a few of the rounds came near Skater and Archangel. But it was enough to let Skater know Luppas had planned on a water getaway as well. It was why the elf had been so willing to follow them to the lake, thinking all the time that the shadowrunners were going to fall into the trap he’d laid.
“Cheshire,” Quentin Strapp called over the commlink. Even with the sound relayed inside Skater’s head, the rotorwash almost drowned his voice out.
“Here,” Skater replied. He looked up, watching the tide of UCAS helicopters screaming toward the beaches. Autofire from heavy machine guns mounted to firmpoints under the bellies of the craft spiked into the mercs, knocking them down. The merc offensive held for as long as it took to draw a breath, then it buckled and broke.
The Fuchi helicopters broke off the pursuit immediately. Lone Star CityMaster units rolled in to secure the ground areas, their light bars splashing color across the streets and the warehouses.
“Thought maybe we’d lost you for a short time,” Strapp said. “What about the woman?”
Skater looked at the barge and saw his team standing behind cover. “She’s safe. What about you, Strapp? Is what they say about you true? Do you honor your agreements?”
“As long as this old heart beats, Jack,” Strapp said, “I’ll be the most bankable guy you’ll ever meet.” There was a smile in his voice. “And what the frag is it gonna matter that I let a handful of no-talent shadowrunners go free when I bring in the woman who can give the UCAS the ability—no matter how transitory—to take a peek at what the megacorps are doing? Hell, getting that feather in my cap may even erase some of my past sins.” And despite the tension surrounding the moment, Jack Skater had to smile.
Epilogue
Skater was sitting on the stairwell at the safehouse two days later when Duran found him. Emma was in Skater’s lap, asleep in the late afternoon breeze that was starting to turn a bit cool, her stomach finally full. He had her wrapped in a light blanket, holding her carefully.
Archangel’s hand-written note was between his feet, fluttering occasionally as the wind caught it, lying on top of the envelope that simply bore his name.
“How you doing, kid?” the big ork asked. He looked uncomfortable.
Skater supposed Duran was. “Okay. How long did you know?”
Duran shrugged, looking out over the sprawl. The early afternoon traffic noises clanged and honked and shrilled down in the street. “Awhile.”
“Did she tell you?”
Duran shook his head. “She didn’t even tell me at the end.”
“But you knew?”
“A blind man woulda known, kid.”
“I didn’t.”
Duran nodded. “You’re the only one that wouldn’t have. You had a lot on your plate.” He looked at Emma. “Have had for awhile, I guess.”
Skater looked down into his daughter’s face. The pain and bruises from the battle at the end of the run almost forty-eight hours ago had started to fade and retreat into memory. Quentin Strapp had been as good as his word that night, letting all of them go. Ripley Falkenhayne had quietly disappeared with the federal agent. Strapp was still follow
ing up on leads regarding Dunkelzahn’s assassination, according to Nina Barrett, who’d been properly hosed off about not being in on the kill.
Fuchi was running quietly, and evidently UCAS didn’t want the megacorp to release news of what Falkenhayne’s program could do to passcode-protected deltaware because they weren’t pressing their advantage. Obviously, Fuchi would try to cut down on any chances of key extractions by the UCAS government with whatever means they found.
Kylar Luppas’s body hadn’t been found, but it was possible the lake had claimed it as one of the secrets it would keep for years or decades. And there was the possibility that the elf merc had survived even the water elemental’s attack and escaped the dragnet of both UCAS and Lone Star forces. Neither of those entities, however, had been too interested in finding him. After all, Falkenhayne and her programming were the bottom line.
Strapp had even taken Norris Caber’s body and made it quietly disappear.
With the three degradable chips, the team would be all right with cash flow for the next few months doing extraction work. The rumor of Coleman January’s magic passcode program was still circling. It already had a name on the street: Absolution. Anyone who had a utility that would erase the passcode protection without requiring all the cyberware replacements could still demand and get a large bounty.
Skater stared at the folded note at his feet. Even though it was closed, folded in the simple, neat tri-fold Archangel had left it in, he could still see the elegant handwriting and read what it said.
Jack—
It wasn’t you, it was me. Things changed, my feelings toward you changed. I didn’t know how to tell you. I couldn’t tell you.
The truth is, I don’t think I’m ready for something nearly as heavy as a relationship. With you, or with anyone else. And I don’t think you’re ready, either. Someday, I think you will be. You can reach out to people when you let yourself. And you should. You’re not as jaded as you think, nor as jaded as so many runners in this biz are.
You’re a good man, Jack, and no matter how you see yourself, you’re going to be a good father to Emma. Take care of her, because she’ll make you take care of yourself. You’ve been given a wonderful gift, Jack, and in time you’ll see that.
Archangel
Skater looked up at Duran. “You knew her before I did.”
Duran nodded. “I knew her before a lot of people.”
“Did she leave any kind of note with you?”
“No. She knew I knew, we just didn’t talk about it.”
Skater stared out over the sprawl. “I’m really confused, Quint. I didn’t do anything or say anything to encourage any—”
“I know.” The ork shifted, pulling at an adhesive bandage that covered one of the severe lacerations he’d gotten when the rocket exploded so close to the elevator cage. “Can I ask you a question?”
Skater smiled crookedly. “Not like you to ask permission.”
“No, but this ain’t exactly my biz either, kid. If I didn’t like you, didn’t like Archangel, I wouldn’t even consider asking. Much less put it into words.”
“Sure.”
“Do you know how you feel about her?” Duran hurried on before Skater could speak. “Now, kid, I want you to notice I didn’t ask you how you felt. I asked you if you knew.”
Skater shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m slotted when it comes to relationships, Quint. I always seem to do the wrong thing.”
Duran gestured toward Emma. “Looks to me like you’re doing okay now.”
“It’s a lot of work, a lot of responsibility.” Skater tightened his hold on Emma, drawing her a little closer. “I don’t know if I would have picked this for myself.”
“Because you didn’t want her, Jack?” Quint asked softly. “Or because you didn’t trust yourself?”
Skater’s throat grew tight as he considered the implications of the ork’s words. “There was never a time,” he said, “from the moment I saw her, saw Larisa in her, that I didn’t want her. Not where it mattered.”
“Then maybe that’s how you ought to look at it.”
The silence stretched out between them for a time, and Skater knew they were both letting it. Finally, he broke it. “Archangel didn’t have to leave.”
“She was losing herself, Jack,” Duran said. “And the one true thing I know about Archangel is that she has got to have herself.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“No. I’ve got a drop where I can leave her messages, but she’ll only answer if she wants to.”
Skater thought about that, feeling the nameless void inside that had been there since he’d read the elven decker’s letter. For three years, the team had been all he really had. There’d also been Larisa, for a time, but at the center of everything it had been the team. Even when he didn’t admit it to himself. Now Archangel was gone, and perhaps things would never be the same again. “Maybe if I left a message for her.”
“Can’t give the drop up to you, kid. Part of the deal I made with Archangel a long time ago. What I can do, though, is leave her a message myself.” Duran looked at him, his gaze softening. “Anything you want to pass along, you just let me know.”
“I appreciate that.” Skater shifted, growing cold in the breeze despite Emma’s warmth cuddled inside his. He could only stay outside a few moments longer. And true dark was reaching out into the sprawl, taking everything down into that no-man’s land that lasted till dawn.
“I know this ain’t the time, kid,” Duran said, “but there ain’t gonna be no good time. We’re gonna have to find another decker to replace Archangel. We’d be flying blind if we don’t have one, and I don’t want to just take anybody.”
“Give me a week or two,” Skater said, “then we’ll shop around.”
“No prob.” Duran turned and started to walk away.
Skater tried to keep the question to himself, but it was too big and he knew it would only prey on his mind. “Do you think we’ll see her again?”
Duran hesitated long enough that Skater wasn’t sure if the ork chose to lie or just not voice all of the truth. “We run in the shadows, kid, and anything can happen there. Frag, it usually does when you least expect it.”
And Skater knew that was all the answer he was going to get.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mel Odom is the author of over fifty books in the SF, action-adventure, horror, and gaming fields and makes his home in Moore, Oklahoma. He writes books, watches his kids play baseball, cheering them on with his wife Sherry, spends time with friends, and traveling whenever he can. His books have been published in Russia and Germany. In 1996, he was inducted into the Oklahoma Professional Writer’s Hall of Fame. He can be reached on-line at Denim [email protected].
Dedication
For Keith Birdsong.
Thanks for the friendship over these last years, buddyro. You’re always there with a smile and a positive outlook on things, and some of the worst jokes that have ever been inflicted on mankind. Being with you is always a trip. Cruising the wild streets of Dallas during Fourth of July with madman David Cherry at the wheel. Playing transporter in the elevator cage (my son has never quite forgiven you). The way you incited the Klingons to go two-stepping in the redneck bar here in Oklahoma, leaving me certain we were all going to get killed. And I even let you beat my ass at the Addams Family pinball machine. Of course, any time you’re ready for a rematch...
Life can sometimes be one really big stressful knot, and I have to thank Donna Ippolito for support during the writing of this book and for helping me keep it together when I got pulled in about fourteen million directions at one time. Donna, I really appreciate the time you took to talk and stick in there with me. This is a tough business, and can be impersonal. I’m glad I’ve gotten to know you, and it’s nice being part of your team.
Also, thanks go out to Lou Prospero, Mike Mulvihill, Stephen Kenson, and Jak Koke for the time they spent during the preparation of this novel. They helpe
d it be both fun and accurate.
And I’d like to thank Annalise Raziq for all the help and insight through the copy-editing phase of this book. And for giving me the term ADDer which I’d never heard before.
And to all you fans of Shadowrun, the ones I’ve gotten to meet at GenCon, and the ones who took time to fill out the questionnaire about my writing. Beware of the shadows, chummers, they’ve only gotten deeper and darker and decidedly deadlier!
Copyright
ROC
Published by the Penguin Group Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.
Penguin Books Ltd, 27 Wrights Lane,
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First published by Roc, an imprint of Dutton Signet, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc.
First Printing, October, 1997 1098765432 I
Copyright © FAS A Corporation, 1997 All rights reserved
Series Editor Donna Ippolito Cover: Les Dorschide
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