Find your own truth s-3

by Robert N. Charrette

  "She's gone," he announced in a woeful voice. "Who?"

  He turned stricken eyes on her, wetting his lips with a tentative tongue. When he spoke, his voice held a hint of something she thought was guilt. "Never mind."

  She gauged the time inappropriate for pushing her questions. He took the bottle she offered with a glum "thank you" and sank down into his chair. He drained the juice in long, slow pulls.

  "Well, Dodger, did you get anything useful?" In reply, he reached across to the deck and picked up the chip he had ejected just before she had thought it necessary to jack him out. He shrugged and tossed the chip to her.

  She frowned at his uncommunicativeness, unsure whether he was ignoring her open displeasure or was too lost in his own funk to notice. She slipped the chip into her data-reader and scanned it. Dodger's run had gathered scant information for Sam. Not much more than a few names. The record of Dodger's run made it clear that even those meager bits of data had been protected. It seemed nobody was to know anything about Howling Coyote. She hoped Sam would be more careful than was his wont.

  "Tough ice," Dodger said, startling her. She looked up to see that he was still staring at the cyberdeck. But something about his posture indicated that he was now wholly back in the real world. "Meaning it's not going to be easy for him."

  "Not at all." The decker shook his head sadly. "Think that will stop him?"

  "No." Hart knew Sam was far too stubborn. "Think it will do any good to tell him to be very careful?"

  "I doubt it." He turned bleak eyes to her. "He could use help."

  Better help than he was getting. "You're right. Want a ticket to Denver?"

  "No connections. I'll run the Matrix cleaner from here. What about you?"

  "He wanted me to watch your butt," she replied, letting her growing irritation slip into her voice. "And you would never go against his wishes." There was a challenge in that statement, which she ignored. She knew Dodger didn't trust her, but this was the closest he had come to bringing it into the open. With Sam alone in Denver and the mysterious hunter on their trail in Seattle, this was no time for dissention in the small circle Sam had remaining to help him. She might not feel able to join him yet, but she wouldn't cost him his support by quarreling with the decker.

  Dodger prodded again. "Unless, of course, the pay was better elsewhere."

  "You don't trust me, do you?" A sardonic half smile was his answer. "Well, the feeling's mutual. Neither of us did a lot to earn his trust in England, but at least I didn't send him in harm's way as somebody else's stalking horse."

  The smile was replaced by a frown, "I went myself as well."

  "Compounding your stupidity doesn't make you any less guilty."

  "I didn't sell him to the Shidhe. Is that what draws you now? Have they put another price on his head?"

  Heat burned her face. "You're in no position to judge. Not that you'll believe me, but I'm done with the Shidhe and they with me."

  His cockiness returned. "How could I doubt you? But you and I both know the answer to that question. Naetheless, I shall take you at your word. The Shidhe are not involved. So what then? What draws you away from aiding the man who thinks you love him, to go hating after something unconnected to his dilemma?"

  "Don't try second-guessing me, Dodger. If I knew this business was unconnected, I wouldn't give it a thought. I'd be in Denver right now. As it is, I think I'd better find out what I can and I don't think anybody can do the looking for me."

  Dodger sneered. "And should it come to pass that there is no one to return to, 'twould be a pity. The great shadowrunner would grieve for an appropriate period of time. One must put on a brave face if one is to survive in the shadows. How long before you make a new conquest and replace all thought of a foolishly trusting norm?"

  Hart suppressed the urge to slap the decker's face. "Listen, chiphead. I don't need your trust. You want to keep watching for me to slot him, you go ahead. But if you cost him anything, anything, because you're too busy watching me, you'll wish you'd stayed in the Tir where your important buddies could cover your ass. He wants me watching you while you deck. Think I like that? It's clearly a waste of my time. I save your brain from an overload when you freeze up, and all I get is complaints." "But you didn't…"

  "Case made. Bitching is all you do. He's counting on you, and all you want is to make trouble."

  A sly look crept onto Dodger's face. "Maybe I'm being useful enough to him by keeping you from making more trouble for him."

  She closed her eyes, hoping to short-circuit the frustration rising within her. He didn't understand. But then, how could she expect him to? If she told him her suspicions he might think more kindly of her, or he might not. His suspicion was deeply ingrained. She wasn't ready to tell anybody anything yet. If she were wrong, she'd be betraying confidences unnecessarily. Now, if Sam had asked her directly… But he hadn't. ~ And she didn't owe Dodger drek.

  The decker took her silence as a retreat from the conversation. For all she knew, he took it as a victory for himself. She held to her silence, and eventually he got up and fixed himself some food from the store in the kitchen. Very free with her hospitality, he was. When he was finished, he jacked in again. She watched for a while, but monitoring a working decker was inherently boring. She set the monitor to alarm mode and sacked out on the cot next to the table.

  Dodger was still haunting cyberspace when she awoke. She tapped his shoulder until he acknowledged her presence, then signaled him to jack out. He prepped a data chip while she toasted some wheat bread, set out some jam, and heated the kafc They ate a sullen breakfast together, and he jacked in again as soon as he finished. That set the pattern: deck and eat. For two days it went on, with the decking sessions becoming longer and the meals shorter.

  Through all the third night, she watched him. He seemed dedicated to Sam's cause. Or was he spending most of his time pursuing his own goals? There was no way to be sure. Jenny's attempt to tag along the second night had come to nothing. Hart didn't know of any other decker, certainly none she could reach in Seattle, who might be able to track Dodger.

  Time was dragging on, and her own concerns were becoming gnawing fears. Since the first night there had been no alarms. Maybe Dodger didn't need a watchdog. What, after all, did she owe him? Nothing, though he might think otherwise. Or maybe she, and Sam, owed the decker more than he expected. But she wouldn't know one way or the other while she was stuck here in the Salish-Shidhe. Certainty required the sort of information-gathering that needed the personal touch. With all the tools available to modern technology and magic, it was hard to guarantee that a conversation was not overheard. Keeping a telecommunications conference secret was harder.

  Right or wrong, trusting or not, Dodger was indirectly responsible for awakening her fears. He had been the one to order his Far East contact to dump all data on Grandmother's operations. The decker was looking for clues to his private obsession, but he had gotten more than he knew. The last data Noguchi had sent had raised an uncomfortable specter that, so far, only she had seen.

  She was torn. Sam would be in Denver now. They had gathered some data to help him in his search for Howling Coyote, but he had no one to help him carry out that search. She was here, stuck watching the decker when she wanted to be elsewhere doing something useful. The paucity of information, and the resistance Dodger had encountered on the first run, worried her. Dodger's results weren't all Sam had hoped for. If he decided he needed to check on Dodger's data he might jack in himself, and that would result in disaster. Sam was, at best, a novice decker. What chance would he have against something that stymied Dodger? Jenny wouldn't be much help. She was good, but, as much as Hart hated to admit it, not quite as good as Dodger. Sam might trust Jenny on Hart's recommendation, and he might not. It would be a gamble that she'd keep him out of the Matrix, but the only way to make sure Sam stayed safely out of cyberspace was to make sure that Sam had a decker he trusted running the Matrix for him. Unless she came up with an alt
ernative, that meant babysitting Dodger.

  If only she could be with Sam in Denver to keep an eye on him. She'd keep him out of the Matrix, and using his magical abilities like he should. But she needed to be elsewhere, and she was feeling the grip of time. Her babysitting the decker might cost them all more than they wanted to pay. But she didn't know for sure, and she wouldn't find out sitting around. The ^ investigation she wanted to make needed her personal touch. She couldn't leave it to an agent. But getting someone to watch over Sam was another matter. She thought about who she knew in Denver.

  If she covered that angle, maybe she could do something here that wouldn't betray Sam's trust. There had to be; she couldn't wait any longer. All she needed was to find someone suitable to babysit Dodger, someone of whom Sam might approve. It would help if Dodger trusted the person, too, but she didn't know enough about his friends. The decker seemed to trust Ghost, but the samurai was busy watching Janice out in the Council lands. The only one of the decker's associates still in town was Tsung, and she wouldn't do Hart a favor, even if it was really for Dodger. Stupid cow.

  There was one other possibility. She looked over at Dodger. From his activity level, she decided that he wasn't likely to come up against anything serious for a few minutes. Well, maybe he would, but how could she know? She had too damn little data, and time was passing. Sometimes one just had to gamble.

  She tossed her Scaratelli jacket over one shoulder and slipped on a pair of B amp;L mirrorshades. She took the stairs down to street level and walked a couple of blocks to the monorail. A few stops later she left the train and found a telecom. Slipping a certified cred-stick into the slot, she waited while the system pinpointed her location and acknowledged her credit. It meant the location of the call would be recorded, but she didn't worry. She'd be gone before anyone could arrive. She placed her call, hoping to remember the number correctly. She smiled in satisfaction when an elven woman's familiar face appeared on the screen.

  "Hello, Teresa. Friend of yours needs a little private counseling."

  Janice Verner was not very happy with herself. She didn't like to think she was stupid, but what other ex-planarion was there? Once more she had let herself believe in promises, had trusted someone else. How many betrayals did it take for her to learn?

  When her body changed the first time, she should have known that her life was changed forever. That was the first betrayal. Like a good little norm, her boyfriend Ken had pretended she no longer existed once he heard of her change. Where had his much-professed love gone? She was the same person inside. Had he only loved her body? If so, why had he lied and told her she was a beautiful soul?

  She should have let her heart die then, but she had been stupid again. Hugh Glass had come to her in that horrible place of exile. His elven features had been so beautiful, and she had been naive enough to believe he meant what he said. She had still wanted to believe she hadn't changed inside, that she was still a beautiful soul. He had let her believe that he saw through her lumpish exterior to that beauty. They had planned an escape from Yomi, laughing about how they would build a life away from the norms in the Yakkut, or Amazonia, or his native Ireland. He had laughed all right. Laughed at her, making his own plans to degrade and humiliate her. The moment they had weathered the harrowing escape from the island, he had abandoned her in Hong Kong.

  Then she had changed again. It had come so soon after Hugh's abandonment that she might have thought it punishment for her stupidity, atonement for her cupidity. She might have fallen into self-pity if not for Dan Shiroi. He had found and rescued her from that awful Hong Kong tenement. He had given her back a sense of worth. Of all the men in her life, only Dan had been true.

  So why did she resist becoming as he was? She didn't need to look at her talons and fangs to know. She could feel the beast and its terrible hunger within her. The hunger was there all the time now, an aching h^llowness. She felt it even in her dreams. Sometimes, when the craving was strongest, Hugh came to her. Smiling his perfect elven smile, he urged her to satisfy herself. He offered her a choice of bodies, but they all had Ken's face. At least at first. Just when she was ready to rip out his traitorous throat, Ken's face always changed into someone else's. Sometimes it was her father's, sometimes her mother's, and occasionally it was one of her brothers'. Most often, though, the face was unfamiliar, just the terrified visage of a harmless norm. The faces she recognized took longer and longer to change to strangers now. But so far, she had resisted. Maybe she hesitated because, in the dream, Hugh urged her so fervently to do it; she saw no reason to please him. Maybe she remembered Dan's last words. But each day, she grew closer to satisfying her hunger.

  Why had she left the fastness that had been Dan's shelter?

  For another empty promise, another broken dream. Her brother had come and told her that she could be changed yet again. Changed for the better, back to what she had been. Was that a worthy desire? Dan had been happy with what he was. Shouldn't she be as well?

  Or was she being stupid again? Stupid she might be, but dull she was not. The shifting breeze that carried the soft rustle also held a faint man scent that told her who approached. He had been following her for two days. She was too tired to hide from him again.

  "Go away, Ghost. I don't want to eat you." He abandoned his stealth, but his approach was only barely louder. He crouched down, just out of reach of her arm. He hadn't abandoned caution. For a man, he was honest.

  "Don't much like the idea," he said. "Then go."

  "He asked me to watch you for him." She laughed bitterly. "He's off learning new magic. What has that to do with me? Norms don't need fuzz-balls."

  Ghost turned his head and spat into the bushes. "He's Dog. He won't give up on you. Why are you giving up on yourself?"

  Why, indeed? Why did it matter? To anybody. She was what she had become, wasn't she? "Suppose he does care. Why are you here?"

  "Dog and Wolf have much in common." "Not really. Wolf is a predator." Ghost grinned raggedly at her. "Of course." "And predators have to eat." She let her fangs show, but he didn't move a muscle.

  "There is plenty of meat in the woods."

  She threw back her head and sighed. "Animals taste bad. Besides, they don't fill me up."

  He grunted in acknowledgement, and then was quiet for several minutes. "While undergoing their spirit quests, my ancestors would go for days without food. Their spirits were strong enough to bear the burden. And now we know the magic they sought in those days could not really be found. But that never stopped them. So what hardship is a fast when now there really is magic to be found? Or if it isn't found, you would face no more disappointment than the ancestors. Less, if your brother succeeds in his own quest. Are you strong, Wolf shaman?"

  She stared at him. He was human, a norm. For all his cybernetic enhancements, he was just a man. He had no insight into the half worlds of the spirit. He knew no magic. His body could never know the exquisite pangs of this hunger. Who was he to question her?

  Was she strong?

  She wished to God she knew.

  The Renraku arcology was a city under one roof, a giant pyramidal house that was home to forty thousand people and with visiting parlors of malls and businesses hosting thousands more. Like all houses, it had its neglected corners that went unnoticed by the bustling inhabitants. Using his special executive power as kansayaku, Hohiro Sato knew many of those forgotten corners very well. He had arranged for some of them.

  The Office of Localized Segment Augmentation: Oversight, Screening, and Actuarial Review Division was one. Normally Sato also ignored it, save to review its activities when his loyal watchdog reported something of potential interest. Today, the manager of OLSA: OSARD had requested an interview.

  As kansayaku, Sato was the living and local embodiment of the dictatorial power of Inazo Aneki, founder and patriarch of Renraku Corporation. In all the ways that counted, the position made Sato more powerful than Sherman Huang, president of Renraku America. Huang was king of t
he arcology, but Sato was the power behind the throne. The corporation's organizational structure gave such a lowly office manager the right to request an interview with the kansay-aku, but such a thing rarely, if ever, happened in practice. When it did, the lowly manager came as a suppliant to the office of his superior. But today, it was Sato who stood at the door to the Office of Localized Segment Augmentation: Oversight, Screening, and Actuarial Review Division. The interview request was, in reality, a summons. Sato stared at the small letters on the name plaque gracing the office door. Had the source of the summons been the person who operated from this office, he would not have come. But that individual was merely a mouth and an ear, a voice to issue orders and a conduit for information of the less delicate variety. For now, Sato would play along. He nodded permission to Akabo to open the door.

  Despite the multitude of desks and work stations the chamber was deserted, save for a single person seated at a computer console near the center. The room's lighting had been adjusted to illuminate only the area around the occupied seat. Hachiko leno looked up and smiled when Sato and his bodyguards entered. leno, director of the office, was short and slender. She might have been beautiful, if not for the repulsive condition of her skin, which was scabby and erupted with short dark hairs in unfortunate places. In Japan such an appearance would have banished her immediately to Yomi Island, where the changed lived in isolation, from the normal population. But this was not Japan. leno could walk the streets of Seattle or dine in almost any restaurant. There would be no official censure, only the harassment that anyone showing ork blood might encounter. leno, however, was not likely to suffer much persecution. All it took was one look into her eyes, those dark, monochromatic orbs. Despite the lack of an obvious pupil, the eyes left no doubt as to who they were gazing at; her predatory gaze could make one's skin crawl. As she must be one of the changed whose already superhuman capabilities were apparently augmented by cybernetic enhancement, only someone incautious, foolish, suicidal, or with his own finely honed edge would consider upsetting her.