Shadowrun: Steel Rain Part 4

"We know now that all five of the attacks on members of the Guard were initiated at approximately five minutes past the hour of one a.m. All five members were attacked at locations they have frequented regularly. Sukayo-san, Mitsuharu-san, and Ryokai-san at their condos, Jiksumi-san at the residence of a friend. Machiko-san at her parents' home. In each case, the attackers utilized automatic weapons. In the case of Sukayo-san and Mitsuharu-san, explosives, possibly grenades, were also used."

Zoge-san politely coughs. This man, seated nearest the Chairman on the left, is thin enough to seem gaunt and sufficiently tall that he could be an elf. Yet he is not an elf. He is in fact of Korean lineage. He goes by the name Zoge, "ivory," for it is said the Chairman considers him as valuable as ivory. He is a lifelong friend of the Chairman and one of the Chairman's most devoted servants. He is also an authority on matters of finance and corporation law.

Honjowara-sama acknowledges him with a glance.

"How did these attackers gain entrance to the various sites where the GSG were attacked?" Zoge-san asks.

Bessho-san replies, "Moments before the physical a.s.saults began, all five sites were invaded via the Matrix. Physical security systems were thereby neutralized."

"You say these attacks occurred simultaneously."

"That appears to be correct."

Coordinating the efforts of five individual a.s.sa.s.sins is not a small task. Further coordinating five individual Matrix runs adds yet another layer of complexity. The point does not seem lost on the clan leaders. Several expressions turn particularly grim. Machiko's own regard for the people behind the attacks goes up several notches, and she feels absolutely corroborated on one point of disagreement with Gongoro. Whoever these people are, whatever their strengths and weaknesses, they are anything but amateurs.

"How many of the attackers were taken?" asks Ohana Toyonari, another of the Chairman's close advisors.

"The ones who attacked Sukayo-san, Machiko-san, and Ryokai-razz were killed," Bessho-san replies. "There is evidence to suggest that the ones who attacked Mitshuhari Krai and Jiksumi-san were perhaps wounded before making their escape."

"How did Sukayo-san, who is now near death, manage to kill his attacker?" Ohana-san asks.

Bessho-san says, "It would be premature to attempt to describe this in detail. An autopsy is being performed on the killers as we speak, and we have hopes of learning more from Sukayo-san, should he regain consciousness. However, it is clear from the damage to Sukayo-san's condo that a brief but intense battle occurred. It appears that Sukayo-san was able to inflict a number of wounds on his attacker, perhaps using improvised weapons. His attacker was found a short distance from Sukayo-san's condo. This attacker was apparently fitted with some form of cranial explosive, like the other two attackers we have recovered. A preliminary examination indicates that the one who attacked Sukayo-san would likely have succ.u.mbed to blood loss had the cranial device not detonated."

Ohana asks, "What form of cranial device did the attackers carry?"

Bessho-san looks to his deputy, Colonel Satomi, who bows and says, "The exact nature of the device has not yet been determined. But it is clear from the extent of injury inflicted, that the devices used were of a type generally known as microbombs. A small quant.i.ty of high-energy explosive, often in gel form, combined with a detonator. The detonator itself may be linked to various bioware such as a pain editor or damage compensator, which monitor pain and injury to the body. The microbombs utilized here were sufficiently powerful to fracture the skull and deform the bones of the face, thus complicating the process of identifying the attackers."

Ohana-san says, "Surely the attackers may be identified by fingerprints."

"We are pursuing this avenue, of course," says Colonel Satomi. "However, the means of identification presents less a problem than the location of the appropriate database. If the attackers have been arrested or otherwise registered within the UCAS, the Confederate American States, Cal-Free, the Kingdom of Hawaii, or j.a.pan, we will shortly know who they were. If they are from other territories, we may have to negotiate to obtain the desired information."

"Negotiations may cost us valuable time," Honjowara-sama says with decision. "What can we determine from the information available to us now?"

For some moments, no one responds. Machiko recalls Gongoro's speculations about anti-metahuman sentiment in the Yos.h.i.+da-kai, but hesitates to say anything here, before the leaders of the clan, before Honjowara-sama himself, for it is all just speculation. Guesses. Perhaps nothing but baseless fantasy.

Bessho-san bows, and says, "The equipment, weapons, cyberware used by the attackers appear to be of military quality, but this by itself is not sufficient for us to draw an inference as to the attacker's origins or organizers. Cranial bombs, for example, are sometimes used to ensure that couriers with implanted data systems are not subjected to interrogation. Such devices have been used by terrorist organizations worldwide, also to prevent capture and interrogation. They have also been utilized by the covert operations teams of various multinational corporations, by Triads, by NAN groups, and by certain clans of Philippine and j.a.panese specializing in terror and a.s.sa.s.sination."

Colonel Satomi bows and says, "I would add that the simplest forms of cranial bombs can be implanted for a price within the reach of almost any individual. Perhaps less than one hundred thousand nuyen. However, I have arranged for these devices to be examined by an explosives expert. The specific mechanisms used will almost certainly provide clues as to the manufacturer of the devices. This may aid in identifying the origins of the attackers."

Honjowara-sama's grim expression turns dark with discontent. He looks to Adachi Dosan, chief of the Nagato Corp Directorate of Intelligence.

Adachi-san bows, and says, "It is apparent, Chairman-sama, that the attacks on the GSG were planned and coordinated with considerable skill. Minor troublemakers such as exist throughout the New York megaplex would lack the resources to conduct these attacks. I would therefore speculate that we are facing a substantial threat. However, the motive for the attacks and their desired effects are troublesome issues. At this juncture, there can be no definitive answers to the questions we are all asking."

"You have some conjecture?" the Chairman demands.

Adachi-san bows, and says, "In theory, an attack on the Green Serpent Guard may be considered an attack against the Honjowara-gumi, or Nagato Corp, its Chairman, or the entire Nagato Combine. The Guard is one of our foremost symbols. Its members are recognized throughout the plex. They are generally considered to be not merely the guardians of the Chairman, but representatives of the Chairman and all he controls."

Honjowara-sama nods, seeming slightly less discontent, but by no means satisfied. "You say then that these attacks presage greater offensive actions directed against Nagato Combine and its Chairman?"

Adachi-san bows. "Indeed, Chairman-san. I strongly suspect that these attacks may be the first tentative steps in a campaign intended to embarra.s.s the Honjowara-gumi, to make us seem weak. The Triad organization known as the Large Circle League has for many months been engaged in a campaign of hara.s.sment against our great ally, the Toki-gumi. We believe the League responsible for the beatings and kidnappings of a number of hospitality girls, the burning of the Bronx pac.h.i.n.ko parlor, the abuse of patrons of several simsense theaters, and, most seriously, the unexpected sweeps of certain BTL labs by the Winter Systems police service."

The Chairman's features darken again. Machiko understands why. It is not the Triads or the difficulties of the Toki-gumi. This is old news. It is Adachi-san's mention of BTL. Better Than Life simsense chips are a thorn that strikes personally at the Chairman's ribs. The Honjowara-gumi maintains no BTL labs and does no traffic in the chips. Machiko has heard the Chairman declare more than once that the dreamchips turn people into useless slaves of direct brain stimulation. He has forbidden any member or employee of the Nagato Combine to make personal use of BTL. It is his expressed intention to one day persuade all the clans of Nagato Combine to forego any involvement in BTL trafficking or production.

"The Large Circle League," Adachi-san continues, "is thus succeeding in making the Toki-gumi appear weak to their Bronx compet.i.tors. Minor troublemakers have been encouraged to make bold moves. All the more so because the Toki-gumi is part of Nagato Combine and Nagato Combine has done nothing to support the Toki-gumi."

"Yos.h.i.+da-kai offered to send support," says Ohana-san. "The offer was refused. Toki-gumi is determined to cure these problems himself."

Adachi-san bows. "This fact is unknown to the Large Circle League. It is unimportant. The leaders.h.i.+p of the League knows the Toki-gumi appear weak. They know we have done nothing. They are encouraged. Perhaps they begin to suspect that we are also weak. Perhaps they antic.i.p.ate that if the Toki-gumi are threatened with extinction then the other clans of Nagato will have no choice but to step in. Whatever the case, I am led inevitably to the suspicion, Chairman-satt, that tonight the League has struck the first blow, with the sole intention of proving that they do not fear even our most redoubtable warriors."

Zoge-san politely coughs, and says, "How pale will the forces of the Toki-gumi appear once it is known that members of the Green Serpent Guard have been murdered in their own beds?"

Adachi-san bows. "Indeed. Precisely."

Machiko feels her cheeks begin to burn. She feels shame over what Zoge-san has so succinctly put into words. But even more than this, she feels appalled over her own great failure, that until this moment she had not imagined that tonight's attack on the GSG could be directly related to the troubles of the Toki-gumi. Now that Adachi-san has explained it, now that Zoge-san has summed it up, it all seems so simple, so obvious that only a fool could fail to see the truth. How could she be so great a fool? so blind? She has gazed upon the world with too narrow a spirit for too long. She has been a fool to ignore the greater issues affecting the future of Nagato Combine! Hour after hour she has spent in training with Sukayo-san and others of the Guard: sword training, weapons training, strength and endurance training. She should have been training her mind, inquiring into Sukayo-san's grasp of strategy and all that he knows of Nagato Combine's enemies.

Now it is too late for preparations. The crisis is upon her and the entire Nagato Combine. And she feels ill-prepared to face this new challenge.

Yet, somehow, she must meet it.

That is her duty.

Honjowara-sama gazes with a stern eye at Adachi-san for many moments, then broadens his gaze to include the entire gathering of leaders. "The Triads have long been our adversaries," he says in a voice almost hoa.r.s.e with defiant anger. "The Large Circle League is a large and powerful organization, the dominate Triad faction in the megaplex. They are ruthless hoodlums, but their leaders are not to be underestimated. How should we respond to their growing menace?

How should Nagato Combine respond to support the Toki-gumi! Do we make reprisals for these attacks on the Guard? Do we go to war? What are your recommendations?"

Adachi-san bows, and says, "For the moment, Chairman-san, I believe that we must gather information. Our top priority must be to confirm that the League is indeed behind these attacks on the GSG. I propose to convey this need to my intelligence operatives. Bessho-san should be availed of every resource that will a.s.sist in gathering and evaluating evidence from the scenes of tonight's attacks, particularly in regard to the corpses of the attackers. Once we are a.s.sured of our enemy's ident.i.ty we will be able to plan how we may gain the offensive."

Honjowara-sama moves his eyes slowly from one leader to the next. With a nod, each signals agreement with Adachi-san's recommendation. Honjowara-sama then gives his own nod. "Very well," he says in a low tone. "Transmit hourly reports to my aide. We will meet again in twelve hours' time to review the situation. Until then, our forces will remain on alert."

The meeting is at an end. Honjowara-sama's expression seems full of ruthless determination. The leaders bow deeply, showing great respect. They get to their feet and turn to go.

"Machiko."

She looks to see Honjowara-sama briefly extend a hand toward the cus.h.i.+on beside her feet. She bows and again lowers herself to one knee. The leaders of the clan file out.

The door to the room slides shut.

The GSG of the body detail are silent and still, seeming hardly to breathe. Machiko feels as though she shares the s.p.a.ce with the Chairman alone. It gives rise to a pang of uncertainty. What does the Chairman want of her? Will he remind her of the shame she feels for her brothers of the Guard, who allowed themselves to be murdered? Will he speak of her personal shame, her failure to see what others have seen? Will he command her to kill herself? This would be merciful.

Honjowara-sama claps his hands. A servant brings tea, places the black lacquered tray at Honjowara-sama's side, then fills Honjowara-sama's cup. As the servant leaves, Honjowara-sama looks to the senior member of the body detail, and says, "You and your other members may withdraw."

The senior of the detail bows. "Please excuse me, Chairman-sama, but this is forbidden."

Honjowara-sama sternly says, "I am defended by Machiko-san, senior member of the Guard. Do not argue." The senior of the detail bows. The eight withdraw. The door to the room slides closed. Honjowara-sama sips his tea. He extends a hand to the cus.h.i.+on located nearest his left and waits until Machiko has moved there, then says, "We have many enemies, Machiko. And there is much we do not know. The modern conflict is fought in small rooms by men and women with many questions and too few answers. We must seek to clarify the situation. Always, we must seek clarity." Machiko bows. "Yes, Chairman-sama."

Honjowara-sama sips again from his tea. "There are many who would say that the members of the Guard are like statues, that they show no emotion. Yet, I have spent many hours with Sukayo-san in kendo training. I live my life surrounded by the Guard. I am used to your stark white faces. I have learned to see beyond the impa.s.sive masks you maintain. Thus I know that you, Machiko, your spirit is large and full of turmoil. You know what it is to feel the conflict between duty and compa.s.sion, between that which must absolutely be done, and that which our finer emotions yearn to see made real."

Machiko bows. Honjowara-sama's words only confirm the depths of his insight. "I have often felt this conflict, Chairman-sama."

"And tonight, neh! There is something on your mind. Something you have not said."

Machiko bows. "It is true, Chairman-sama."

"Perhaps this involves matters you do not deem worthy of the attention of the leaders of the Nagato Combine."

Again, she bows. "This is so, Chairman-sama." Honjowara-sama gazes at her sternly, then says, "We must seek clarity, Machiko. Clarity as concerns our compet.i.tion. Such clarity is born of knowledge, and such knowledge cannot be elicited from G.o.ds, or by a.n.a.logy with the past, or by mere calculations. It must be obtained from those who know. When people talk, we must listen. Even the idle gossip of fools may be pertinent."

"It is perhaps a matter of gossip, Chairman-sama." Honjowara-sama gazes at her and waits.

It is embarra.s.sing, the prospect of relating Gongoro's wild speculations, especially in the wake of Adachi-san's explication of what must surely be the truth. She does not wish to seem a fool. Yet, even the talk of fools may have value, Honjowara-sama says. Perhaps a value she cannot discern. "I have heard it said, Chairman-sama, that Yos.h.i.+da-kai is full of hatred for metahumans, that they regard the elves of the GSG as an affront to their honor. I have heard it said that Yos.h.i.+da-kai are traitors and that they plot to destroy our clan."

"Who speaks thus?"

"An elf."

"A member of the Guard?"

"Yes."

"What do you believe?"

Machiko breathes, settles her spirit. She says, "I believe that the Yos.h.i.+da-kai are our allies, and that the Triads, the Large Circle League in particular, have long been a most dangerous enemy. I believe that Adachi-san is correct in his evaluation."

"Should we make war on the League?"

Machiko bows. "I will make war on any enemy that the Chairman should select."

Honjowara-sama pauses to take another sip of tea. Machiko feels his unrelenting gaze even though she averts her eyes, looking to the corners of the room, watching for enemies who do not show themselves. "You have heard the leaders of Nagato Combine," Honjowara-sama says. "They have long experience dealing with uncertain circ.u.mstances such as we now face. But you, Machiko, you are the warrior among us. What do your warrior instincts tell you now? What course of action do you recommend?"

Machiko considers this at length. She feels certain that Chairman will be as much judging the quality of her intellect, her insight, as any course of action she may suggest. She does not want to misplace her step. She has felt such shame already this night, she would rather die than fail to meet the Chairman's expectations, what must surely be expected of the senior member of the GSG.

Deeply, she breathes. She says, "I recall the words of the ancient masters, Chairman-sama."

"Explain."

Machiko bows. "The Chairman has said that we face many enemies. The ancient masters have written that, in such cases, the warrior must draw both sword and companion sword and a.s.sume a wide-stretched att.i.tude. The warrior should sweep the eyes around broadly and attack. To wait is bad. Cut to the left and to the right. Drive the enemy together, and when they are piled up like fish on a string, cut them down without giving them room to move."

The Chairman seems to spend several moments considering this. "And how may this strategy be applied?"

"Chairman-sama," Machiko says. She bows deeply. "Draw the companion sword. While Nagato Combine's regular forces utilize routine channels of investigation, allow the GSG to utilize other resources."

"You propose to investigate?"

"To seek the truth, Chairman-sama. The truth of our enemy's sword."

"Do you propose to make use of gangster tactics?" Machiko breathes. She breathes twice deeply, and determines to hurl herself upon the sword of the Chairman's question as though she were already dead. "Chairman-sama," she says. "I propose that we are already at war. Our enemy makes war on us. We must find and defeat this enemy or face destruction."

"You speak as a warrior."

"I do."

The Chairman gazes at her with an expression like adamantine steel: hard and wholly unyielding.

It is many long moments before he gives his reply.

10.

The interior of the building is like a maze, and it's dark. Neona's mirrored Porsche shades turn the black of night into twilight, but that's all. There's no lights, no jazz in the sockets. She finds a bank of public telecoms on one dusty, graffiti-layered wall, but the vidscreens are dead and the datajacks are red and brown with corrosion.

She nearly shrieks when she sees a c.o.c.kroach almost half the size of her foot crawling onto her sneak. But instead she merely jumps half a meter into the air, trips, falls, then goes scrambling, gasping, fighting the fear, back the way she came.

She's safe here. Safe as it gets. The corridors are strewn with every kind of litter and devil rats rustle everywhere-but there's no people! No cutters, no freaks. No jackboys or razor-punks to give her a ha.s.sle. No slags trying to s.h.a.g her and no trogs wanting to tweak her condition a little nearer slab city.

She finds a stairway of steel rising to an elevated gangway. The rusted steel creaks and sings with every step, but the gangway holds. Both sides of the gangway are lined by narrow doors like locker doors, and abruptly she realizes where she is: a coffin hotel. Abandoned, derelict. Left for dead in the devastated wastes of the Zone. The Slag Heap. Somewhere in Long Island's County of Suffolk. It's buff perfect. Absolutely jewel. She pushes and kicks at doors till one slides open. The s.p.a.ce beyond is a black pit, probably big enough to lie in and not a millimeter more, but that's all she needs. Exactly what she needs. She pulls the rickety metal door shut to keep the bugs out and feels her way around. There's a small tridscreen, a thin mattress, a couple of blankets, all the comforts of home and all she'd dare ask.

She sits, pulls the blankets up over her knees, and leans back into a corner. She's hungry, but she'll survive. Once she gets to the city she'll figure a way to sleaze some nuyen. The gray nylon carrypack she holds clenched to her stomach contains a macroplast-s.h.i.+elded Fairlight invader, and with tech like that she's sure to find work slurping data or busting code red or some fragging thing. She just needs some sleep. A minute to breathe. Stumbling through the Zone half-crazy with terror and buzzing on adrenaline wears a body out. She feels like she's been running for days. Probably running around in circles. Give her the trons of the local telecommunications grid and she'll find her way home in a flash, like the 'Lectron Angel she is, but throw her meat body into the Zone and she'll freak. She ain't meant for this kinda squat.

She closes her eyes and suddenly she's in a dream, the nightmare that's been looping through her head ever since she met this slag called Gamma. As real as simsense and as chilling as roaches climbing her spine. Someone's got her tied down on a bed of cables writhing like snakes and he's prying open her skull. Microtonic tools clack and clatter and whiz and the air smells of solder and burning skin and she feels the truth turning her stomach and churning through her bowels. He's putting a deck in her head-a cranial cyberdeck! Now it opens a plate in her skull every time she needs an upgrade, new memory, more processing power. Now it's risking frying her brain every time she test-drives a new component. No way, no fragging way!

She wakes up shrieking.

And abruptly cuts it short.

The gangway outside is rattling. The door to her little cranny crashes open and there bathed in a pale shade of moonlight is one of Gamma's cutters, a big mother-reaming razorpunk like out of a combat biker trid. Neona squeezes back into her corner and looks frantically around, but there's only one way out. She searches the dark, her mind, her pockets for any kind of a weapon, but she already knows she's got nothing.

"Kept me up all effing night," says the cutter. "Let's go, jackhead."

"Don't... don't hurt me," Neona whimpers.

"Move it, slitch!"

She's shaking so hard she can't hardly stand up. The cutter reaches through the doorway and catches the back of her neck and jerks her ahead, through the doorway and onto the gangway. She stumbles and gasps and snivels so loud it echoes, and then turns and rams the hard macroplast corner of the Invader's casing into the cutter's groin. Terror makes her strong and quick.

The cutter shouts in pain, and he roars "Fraggin BIFF! " but her feet are slapping the gangway to match the pace of her hammering heart and she's down the stairs to ground level before she has time to think about breathing.

She hears other shouts, rattling equipment, pounding boots. Which way? Which way out? She runs and runs, tearing down pa.s.sageways, scrambling around corners, banging through doors, tripping and sprawling over mountains of litter and junk. Moonlight glares into her eyes. She scrambles through a jagged hole in a concrete wall and then tumbles down a pile of debris.

When she wakes, she's lying on her back. Her breath is rasping and her nose feels broken. She can't move. Her head's pounding like it's under a fifty-ton pile driver. The crescent moon fills her eyes, burning like a white phosphorus incendiary charge. She can't see the hands holding her wrists and ankles, but through the burning glare of the moon she can just make out the slim figure towering over her, leaning on his mage's wand like a cane.

"Why did you run?" Gamma asks.

She struggles, tries to break free, tries twisting her head around to catch sight of her Fairlight Invader, but it's no use. The hands are too strong, the moon too bright. Already, she can feel Gamma's fingers walking up her spine like a thousand little roaches, forming into a glove, a glove that gives a little tug and makes her straighten her head, a glove that squeezes down slowly, slowly, slowly, till she's sure her skull's going to split under pressure, and the pressure builds and builds, till it's too much, too much to withstand.