Shadowrun 42 - Poison Agendas Read online

  "Attack!" Orion said, and Kellan lunged forward.

  Orion twisted his torso to present less of his body as a target, bringing his sword around in an arc to deflect hers by the narrow margin needed to make her miss him entirely. Kellan swept her own sword around in a wide arc, catching Orion's blade as he came in slow, and pushing it aside.

  "Good!" he said, coming around and blocking Kel-lan's swing at his upper body. Then he made a jab at her leg. Kellan dropped her sword down to block it, but Orion only feinted. His sword blazed up and struck Kellan's shoulder with a loud slap.

  "Ow! Fraggit!" Kellan yelled at the sharp sting from the rattan practice blade.

  "Focus," Orion said. Kellan gritted her teeth and massaged her shoulder as the elf stepped back into ready position, with no indication their sparring was leaving him even the slightest bit winded.

  "Again," he said with a nod.

  Kellan took a deep breath. She reached up to brush a few strands of sweat-soaked hair out of her face, then returned Orion's salute.

  "Attack!" he proclaimed, and Kellan lunged forward. This time, Orion sidestepped her attack and came in with an upward thrust of his blade. Kellan tried to backpedal to get out of the way, but lost her balance. The elf knocked her sword from her grasp, sending it clattering to the floor as Kellan toppled over backward, landing with a thump on the unforgiving wood.

  "What the frag was that for?" Kellan yelled, glar-

  ing at Orion as she massaged her shoulder, still stinging from his previous hit.

  "For not paying attention," he said. "If you want me to teach you how to use a sword, the least you can do is try."

  "I am trying!"

  He shook his head. "You can do better than that." He offered Kellan his hand to help her up, but she ignored it, struggling to her feet on her own.

  "Do you have to hit so hard?" Kellan protested.

  "It doesn't hurt nearly as much as a real sword would," Orion said without a trace of sympathy. "If this were a real sword fight, you'd be dead."

  "But it's not a real fight. It's supposed to be practice."

  "It's also not supposed to be easy."

  "Fraggit," Kellan said. "Maybe I just shouldn't bother."

  She turned toward the door.

  "Hold on!" Orion said. "What's really going on, Kel? Are you still hacked off about that drek with Lothan?"

  Kellan remained quiet for a moment, but went to pick up her fallen sword. Taking her silence as an affirmative, Orion continued.

  "Don't let him get to you," he said. "You know better than anybody what a blowhard Lothan is. He's fragging older than God's parents and he doesn't think anyone can handle anything as well as he can." Orion and Lothan had had their share of disagreements. The elven adept was quick acting and quick

  tempered compared to Lothan's cool and calculating approach, which took in every possible variable before arriving at a decision.

  "I didn't notice you saying he was wrong," Kellan muttered, looking down at the sword in her hand.

  "What, about you not being ready to set up business on your own?"

  Kellan raised her blue eyes to meet Orion's leaf-green ones.

  "So? Do you agree with him?" There was a long pause as the question hung in the air. "You do, don't you?"

  "I didn't say that!" Orion shot back.

  "But you were thinking it!"

  "Oh, the master of the arts arcane has taught you how to reads minds now, has he?"

  Kellan started to reply, but Orion cut her off.

  "I didn't say anything then because it wasn't the place or time for it." Kellan felt a hot flush rise to her cheeks. He was right about that. She shouldn't have gone off on Lothan in public like that, especially when it came to biz.

  "But," Orion continued, raising a hand for emphasis. "I don't necessarily agree with Lothan's attitude. I think he underestimates you, but Lothan underestimates everyone, Kellan. He probably can't remember the last time he was involved in a run where he wasn't in charge."

  Kellan sighed. "You're probably right. It's just that it's so frustrating."

  "I bet. I don't know how you put up with having him as a teacher."

  "I have a high tolerance for hardcase instructors," Kellan said with a smile, and Orion glanced down at the sword in his hand, a sheepish expression coming over his face as Kellan laughed.

  "It's really not that bad," she explained. "Lothan does know his stuff, and he's taught me a lot. It's just that I don't think he sees I'm already capable of doing more—a lot more. I mean, you've only been working the shadows for a while. You know what I mean."

  Orion nodded. "Yeah, it's hard at first when everybody assumes you're going to frag things up. But I think we've both proven we can handle ourselves."

  "I want to do more than that. I'm not going to be Lothan's apprentice forever."

  "You want to be the one calling the shots," Orion said flatly.

  "What's wrong with that?"

  "Probably nothing, but you're asking the wrong guy. I'm totally okay with being the hired muscle," he said. "It's what I know how to do. As long as I get paid, I'm better off not worrying about everything else."

  "Not me," Kellan said. "I mean, I can follow orders and do what needs to be done, but I don't think I want to do that forever."

  "So, what are you going to do about it?"

  Kellan sighed again. "I don't know. There's no way Lothan is going to change his mind. ..."

  "Frag Lothan!" Orion shot back. "He's not the only shadowrunner in Seattle. He's not even the only mage, even if he acts like it. You don't need his permission to do some business on your own, right?"

  "That's right. I don't."

  "So when you see a chance, I say take it."

  "Will you back me up if I do?" she asked.

  "Assuming you can afford me." Then his serious face split into a grin. "Yeah, of course I'll back you up."

  "Thanks."

  "Null sheen," the elven adept replied. "So, you ready to go a few more rounds?"

  Kellan raised her sword with a nod and assumed a ready pose.

  "Let's go," she said. "This time, I'm gonna whip your skinny elf butt."

  As it turned out, Orion did most of the butt-whipping, though Kellan managed to get in a few good attacks during their sparring match. She even scored a hit on Orion, and the elf declared himself impressed. He said Kellan was definitely improving. She left the gym bruised, sore and sweaty, but feeling a little better about her altercation with Lothan. It was good to know someone thought she had what it took to do things on her own.

  the door, as always keeping an eye out for anyone unfamiliar in the hallway. She dropped her bag inside and flicked on the light before closing the door and locking it again.

  She needed to take a shower and get something to eat, then she'd log on to Shadowland and check out some job possibilities. Shadowland was the Matrix host for shadowrunners to exchange information and post leads for biz. Jackie Ozone had set Kellan up with access, and it was the best first step to take in her plan to do something on her own for a change.

  First things first, though. She took out her phone and checked her messages. There was only one. Probably Lothan with more "homework" for me, she thought as she hit the button to play the message.

  "Um, hey, Kellan," a vaguely familiar voice said. "This is Squeak. You probably don't remember me, but I . . . um, I've got something I want to talk to you about, something big. Buzz me back, 'kay?" A local telecom grid number appeared at the end of the message. Kellan looked at it thoughtfully as it flashed on the tiny screen.

  She actually did remember Squeak. He was a decker, a "warez dood," he called himself. His specialty was hunting through other people's cast-offs, both data and hardware, looking for little nuggets of gold he could turn into cred. Sometimes it was an account number, an old passcode or bits of a deleted file, sometimes it was a piece of tech that could be fixed up and sold. Jackie Ozone bought from him occasionally, and Kellan had met him through Jackie,
when the decker was picking up some data for a run not long after Kellan arrived in Seattle. The shy, awkward deckhead had taken a shine to Kellan the moment she'd walked into his squat.

  More importantly, from Kellan's perspective, she had made Squeak a standing offer to pay him for any information he might dig up about her mother. Someone had sent Kellan a package from Seattle containing some gear useful for running the shadows, and the dragon-shaped amulet she always wore. The enclosed note said only that the things belonged to her mother. One of the reasons Kellan came to Seattle was to track down the source of the package and find out more about her mother, including whether she was even still alive. Maybe Squeak had a lead.

  Kellan punched the button for the phone to dial the highlighted LTG number. It only rang twice before someone answered.

  "Hey, Kellan, you get my message?" Squeak asked. Kellan refrained from asking how he knew it was her. She thought the caller ID on her phone was blocked, but apparently not to everyone. That, or the number he gave her was unique, so he would know it was her.

  "Yeah, I got it," she replied. "So what's up?"

  "Not over the phone," Squeak replied mysteriously. "Can you meet me?" Kellan paused for only a moment. What could Squeak consider to be so important?

  "Sure—where and when?"

  "How about Syberspace in like ... an hour?" Squeak was trying to not sound too eager. He wasn't succeeding.

  "An hour?" Kellan paused, as if thinking it over. She knew how to avoid sounding too eager, even though she was willing to admit that she was very curious. "All right."

  "Wizard! Trust me, Kellan, you won't regret this."

  "Okay, Squeak. I'll see you in an hour."

  "And Kellan? Come alone," Squeak added before hanging up.

  Kellan looked at the phone for a moment, and then hit the end button. Come alone? Squeak had been slotting too many simsense chips. She wondered again what Squeak had found. Well, there's only one way to find out. With an hour to get to Syberspace, she had just enough time to catch a quick shower and change into her working clothes.

  4

  Syberspace, as the name implied, was a club catering to deckers, warez doods, and other tech-heads like Squeak, who were more comfortable in the virtual world of the Matrix than in real life (RL, as the deckers called it). The interior of the club was styled to look like the inside of a Matrix host system, using the widely accepted Universal Matrix Standards. The walls and floor were polished black macroplast, reflecting lights and images in their inky depths. The furniture was all chrome and pure white plastic in simple geometric shapes: tables and chairs cube-shaped or cylindrical, with some white-and-chrome spheres and pyramids scattered around the room as decorations. The pyramids served double duty as terminals for ordering drinks and paying for services via credstick. Multicolored neolux tubing ran along the ceiling and accented the walls, and edged the rails around the main dance floor, where it strobed and flashed in time to the music. Syberspace, as the name implied, was a club catering to deckers, warez doods, and other tech-heads like Squeak, who were more comfortable in the virtual world of the Matrix than in real life (RL, as the deckers called it). The interior of the club was styled to look like the inside of a Matrix host system, using the widely accepted Universal Matrix Standards. The walls and floor were polished black macroplast, reflecting lights and images in their inky depths. The furniture was all chrome and pure white plastic in simple geometric shapes: tables and chairs cube-shaped or cylindrical, with some white-and-chrome spheres and pyramids scattered around the room as decorations. The pyramids served double duty as terminals for ordering drinks and paying for services via credstick. Multicolored neolux tubing ran along the ceiling and accented the walls, and edged the rails around the main dance floor, where it strobed and flashed in time to the music.

  The dance floor itself was the centerpiece of the club. The floor was made up of blocks of translucent plastic, and multicolored lights flashed from below. Supposedly, the lights were programmed in sequences linked to the music. Rumor had it that the flashing lights sometimes transmitted subliminal messages, or caused people to have seizures or hallucinations, but Kellan had never seen evidence of either one.

  The club wasn't too busy when she got there. Things wouldn't pick up for at least an hour or two, and that suited Kellan just fine. She was there on business, and the fewer people who noticed, the better. Syberspace wasn't one of her regular hangouts, but she'd been there often enough to know the lay of the land. Her credstick informed the bouncer she was twenty-two rather than nineteen, and he chose not to question her. G-Dogg had made sure Kellan's ID was good enough to pass casual inspection—it was sort of his specialty.

  She glanced casually around the club and saw Squeak sitting by himself in a booth near the back, looking a little nervous. He noticed her at the same time, but didn't acknowledge her presence. Well, at least he's not standing up and waving, Kellan thought as she made her way over to the table. She slid into the opposite side of the booth.

  Squeak probably earned his street name from his

  unfortunate resemblance to a nervous rodent. He was small and slightly built, with a pasty complexion that was rarely exposed to the sun. His hair was dirty blond and already beginning to recede from a high forehead, despite the fact he wasn't much older than Kellan. His blue eyes weren't original equipment. They were cybernetic implants, with faint silvery circuit patterns visible in the irises. Unfortunately, getting cybereyes hadn't eliminated Squeak's nervous tendency to glance from side to side, and his implants gave a slight click every time he did, a sound that set Kellan's nerves on edge.

  "Hey, Squeak," she said.

  "Hoi, Kellan," the warez dood replied with a shy smile and a click of his eyes. "Thanks for coming."

  "Null sheen. I hope this is something worth my time."

  "Oh, it is," Squeak replied. "It is." The eyes clicked rapidly from side to side as he leaned closer across the table.

  "I've got a proposal for a run," he said.

  So, it wasn't information about her mother. Kellan was a little disappointed. Still. . . .

  "What kind of run?" she asked, keeping her tone carefully neutral.

  "A very profitable one," Squeak said. He glanced past her at the club again. Click-click. "I was going through some datadumps I collected, you know, mostly trash files and drek like that, seeing if there was anything worth selling off. I found some encrypted files on some old storage media—I'm talking like older than you or me—so I transferred them to my system to see if I could work with them."

  "I broke the encryption and recovered some partial e-mail files. The headers said they were United States military communiques from around the time of the Ghost Dance War."

  That piqued Kellan's interest. "Are you sure?" she asked, and Squeak nodded enthusiastically.

  "Positive. I triple-checked, and I'm convinced the files are for real."

  "What were they about?" Kellan asked. Squeak grinned.

  "That's the good part," he said. "The e-mails concerned a United States military stockpile in what is now Salish-Shidhe territory. They were top secret orders to destroy the stockpile before pulling out of the area. From the dates, the orders went out right after the Treaty of Denver was signed and the United States started withdrawing from the Native American Nations."

  "So?" Kellan asked. "Where's the run? Those orders went out, what, forty years ago or more. The U.S. troops must have destroyed the stockpile and gotten the frag out of there."

  "Yeah, but what if they didn't?" Squeak asked. "What if they never got the orders, or they weren't able to carry them out? There are no confirmations in the files, no evidence the orders were actually carried out. There was a lot of drek going down in the

  Ghost Dance War, and that part of the country was under NAN control by then. Maybe the U.S. forces didn't get a chance to dispose of all the weapons. What if they're still there?"

  "That's a fragging big 'if,' Squeak."

  "Yeah, yeah, I know,
" he said, "but think about it, Kellan!"

  "I am," she said. "But even if there are still weapons there, who says they're any good after all this time? They're probably corroded, and besides, they're like forty or fifty years out of date."

  "I don't think so," the warez dood replied, his cy-bereyes clicking in excitement. "This drek was top secret, Kellan. It wasn't just racks of assault rifles or grenades or drek like that. We're talking some serious weapons."

  "How serious?"

  "I don't know," he said. "I couldn't find out from the files, but I'd say something more . . . strategic."

  "Stra—" Kellan paused to absorb the implications. "You mean . . . ? Nah. . . ."

  Squeak shrugged and shook his head, cutting her off.

  "Like I said, I dunno, but think about the

  possibilities."

  Kellan's mind was racing with possibilities at that very moment. Squeak was implying the weapons stockpile could contain military grade weapons of mass destruction, most likely chemical or biological, or even tactical nuclear weapons. The old U.S. gov-

  ernment certainly had such weapons during that time period, but never deployed them, being unwilling to target the Native American guerrilla forces fighting on their own soil. They were also unwilling to suffer the kind of civilian casualties those weapons would cause.

  Though multiple corporate and governmental agreements prohibited the stockpiling of such weapons, it was an open secret in the shadows that governments and megacorporations both had them, in case they were ever needed. If Squeak's information about the weapons cache was good, and there were old U.S. military weapons there, the information— and the weapons—would be worth a fortune to the right parties. It would easily net her more nuyen than all the other shadowruns Kellan had done put together, including her runs for Lothan.

  "Okay," Kellan said, gathering her thoughts. "Even if there is something there after all this time, why me? I mean, if you've got this data, why not just go after those weapons yourself?"

  Squeak gave a short, mocking snort. "C'mon, Kellan! I'm a warez dood, not a shadowrunner! My biz is putting together data, writing programs and building hardware, not going on runs. I wouldn't even know how to get into the NAN to check this place out."