"Mickey!" Owen yelled in the aftermath of Briar's abrupt disappearance. "Mickey, target Seattle. We just got directed to the council of Princes."
"No sweat, boss." The decker yelled back from across the warehouse. "Already in the works."
The phys ad turned to the curious looks from the assembled team and said, "First of all, thank you Bardo, for coming on such short notice. We appreciate your help. We'll get you back home."
"No problem, Owen." Bardo said as he held up a hand. "I'll make my own way back." With a self conscious smile the rotund Gator shaman admitted, "I really can use the exercise. Best of luck with your latest adventure, my friends. Let me know how it works out." With a friendly wave the heavy set magic user departed.
Owen expected to be inundated with questions, but the lost boys waited patiently as he prepared his proposal. "Gentlemen," he began, "Mouse and I have spent some time considering our options and......Yes Itami?"
"Uh, sorry to interrupt, boss, but if we're headed for Seattle, shouldn't we get packed?" the rigger asked.
"Yes, old man." Doc agreed, "I hope you plan on allowing me to pack the artifact. I, at least, will be able to insure some magical privacy for......"
"And what good is dat gonna do if somebody steals da fraggin bag, Doc?" Lug demanded. "Yer gonna haveta let Itami an me put together some sorta boobytrapped lock on da thing and a locator so........"
"Gentlemen!" Owen exclaimed, "Uh, excuse me, I was about to explain that Mouse and I have worked out a number of possible scenarios and the best option seems to be....."
"Do what the Rat said" the laconic Hamon interrupted. "First get to Seattle."
"But, don't you want to hear....." the phys ad began.
"It's like dis, kid" Mouse interrupted as he returned to the team meeting area. "We let da best qualified person make da decision. Dat person is da leader. We rely on da leader and pull together behind him. See," after a brief pause 5 voices chorused out "Nothing with 6 heads lives."
"What, what are you sayin?" Owen demanded as he began advancing on the decker in deadly earnest. "Dat I'm funny? Dat I amuse you, dat I'm here to fuckin amuse you? How? What is so fuckin funny about me, HOW AM I FUNNY?"
"Tommy.........getdafuckouttahere." Doc responded. The phys ad and the spell worm afforded each other a nod of recognition that another movie challenge (Goodfellahs) had been successfully answered as a very relieved young decker suddenly found himself able to breathe again.
"Hey, not bad, Mouse" Lug admitted in an undertone, as the ork regained his composure. "but if your gonna play wit da grownups, ya don't get treated like a kid no more. Breaks of da game. You know, if ya can't run wit da big dogs ya better stay on da porch."
"Mr. Cranston? What can I get you this evening?"
The slurred "Nuh-thing" informed Flight Steward Gloria LaCap that the hideous industrial accident which had left seat 2A's face and hands swathed in gauze and dark glasses had affected his throat and palette as well. Acid or fire she thought, Really a shame too. Looks like he kept himself in great shape. Well, they do wonders with vat grown tissue these days, maybe he's going to a clinic or something in Seattle. Hmmm.... nothing on the manifest for special handling other than he bought the seat next to him for his crutches....I suppose I should just let him sleep. As the call button sounded again from 5D she sighed and thought, Why can't all first class be as easy as poor Lamont.
Seeing that the bustling Flight Steward was otherwise engaged, Owen sat back and closed his eyes. The scar tissue under the gauze was realistic enough to cause people to avert their eyes but the synthetic texture which bonded to his skin made for an annoying itch. Since the scarring was only a backup against the gauze somehow coming off, Doc had questioned the logic behind something so elaborate as to make one uncomfortable for an entire flight. I bet that was for Mouse's benefit, the phys ad thought, letting the kid know by forcing Itami to explain that for a disguise to work, one had to be able to handle the unforeseen. I know right afterwards Mickey went back to his deck. Probably fleshing out more details for our cover identities. I wonder how he decided on names...... "The Shadow Knows"......mwahahahahahaha.
The Shadorat and shapcano. Together again for the first time! This serial continues at Winterhawk's Virtual Magespace. To read Chapter 12 click here.
This story is copyright of the author. Shadowrun is a Registered Trademark of FASA Corporation. All Rights Reserved. Used without permission. Any use of FASA Corporation's copyrighted material or trademarks in this file should not be viewed as a challenge to those copyrights or trademarks.
"No sweat, boss." The decker yelled back from across the warehouse. "Already in the works."
The phys ad turned to the curious looks from the assembled team and said, "First of all, thank you Bardo, for coming on such short notice. We appreciate your help. We'll get you back home."
"No problem, Owen." Bardo said as he held up a hand. "I'll make my own way back." With a self conscious smile the rotund Gator shaman admitted, "I really can use the exercise. Best of luck with your latest adventure, my friends. Let me know how it works out." With a friendly wave the heavy set magic user departed.
Owen expected to be inundated with questions, but the lost boys waited patiently as he prepared his proposal. "Gentlemen," he began, "Mouse and I have spent some time considering our options and......Yes Itami?"
"Uh, sorry to interrupt, boss, but if we're headed for Seattle, shouldn't we get packed?" the rigger asked.
"Yes, old man." Doc agreed, "I hope you plan on allowing me to pack the artifact. I, at least, will be able to insure some magical privacy for......"
"And what good is dat gonna do if somebody steals da fraggin bag, Doc?" Lug demanded. "Yer gonna haveta let Itami an me put together some sorta boobytrapped lock on da thing and a locator so........"
"Gentlemen!" Owen exclaimed, "Uh, excuse me, I was about to explain that Mouse and I have worked out a number of possible scenarios and the best option seems to be....."
"Do what the Rat said" the laconic Hamon interrupted. "First get to Seattle."
"But, don't you want to hear....." the phys ad began.
"It's like dis, kid" Mouse interrupted as he returned to the team meeting area. "We let da best qualified person make da decision. Dat person is da leader. We rely on da leader and pull together behind him. See," after a brief pause 5 voices chorused out "Nothing with 6 heads lives."
"What, what are you sayin?" Owen demanded as he began advancing on the decker in deadly earnest. "Dat I'm funny? Dat I amuse you, dat I'm here to fuckin amuse you? How? What is so fuckin funny about me, HOW AM I FUNNY?"
"Tommy.........getdafuckouttahere." Doc responded. The phys ad and the spell worm afforded each other a nod of recognition that another movie challenge (Goodfellahs) had been successfully answered as a very relieved young decker suddenly found himself able to breathe again.
"Hey, not bad, Mouse" Lug admitted in an undertone, as the ork regained his composure. "but if your gonna play wit da grownups, ya don't get treated like a kid no more. Breaks of da game. You know, if ya can't run wit da big dogs ya better stay on da porch."
********
Maynard Fitzhue sat behind his ancient mahogany desk lost in thought. The Wind Master of the Council of Elements could easily have dispatched a Mystic Crusaders recovery team to secure the item that Pietr was investigating. Certainly it was his first instinct on hearing some of the tantalizing details of the small man's discovery, but the political situation was just too tenuous. Despite Pietr's preposterous affectations, Fitzhue knew him to be far too competent and careful an Atlantean Foundation Associate and much too good an investigative mage to disturb him with such grand unsubstantiated claims. No, Fitzhue thought, he definitely has something of value, the question is, how great is the value and what is the best way to acquire it.
That hideous elf, Enchanis, is the logical choice to attempt recovery in that part of the country. He recently brought back that fascinating ward-breaking artifact called........oh, yes, the Bajang Jitte, from the very same sprawl. Hmmm....An interesting piece, that, Maynard thought, but since Carmichael made him a captain, Enchanis is such a toady for the Fire Master that anything he brings in will be handed over directly to Gregory who will naturally enhance his prestige with the find.
No, no. Mr. Gregory cock-of-the-walk Carmichael, I don't think I'll be feeding your fire circle anytime soon. I need a more complete report from Pietr and then..... perhaps I'll send Quillum......yes, Quillum understands opportunities of this sort, and he's certainly capable...... yes. As soon as Pietr gives me more details, I'll send Quillum in to retrieve the item and Old Greg and the rest of the council can learn about itafter MY agents bring it in.
With his plan clear in his mind, the Wind Master began consulting his vast library of ancient tomes for more clues on what precisely Pietr had unearthed.
"Mr. Cranston? What can I get you this evening?"
The slurred "Nuh-thing" informed Flight Steward Gloria LaCap that the hideous industrial accident which had left seat 2A's face and hands swathed in gauze and dark glasses had affected his throat and palette as well. Acid or fire she thought, Really a shame too. Looks like he kept himself in great shape. Well, they do wonders with vat grown tissue these days, maybe he's going to a clinic or something in Seattle. Hmmm.... nothing on the manifest for special handling other than he bought the seat next to him for his crutches....I suppose I should just let him sleep. As the call button sounded again from 5D she sighed and thought, Why can't all first class be as easy as poor Lamont.
Seeing that the bustling Flight Steward was otherwise engaged, Owen sat back and closed his eyes. The scar tissue under the gauze was realistic enough to cause people to avert their eyes but the synthetic texture which bonded to his skin made for an annoying itch. Since the scarring was only a backup against the gauze somehow coming off, Doc had questioned the logic behind something so elaborate as to make one uncomfortable for an entire flight. I bet that was for Mouse's benefit, the phys ad thought, letting the kid know by forcing Itami to explain that for a disguise to work, one had to be able to handle the unforeseen. I know right afterwards Mickey went back to his deck. Probably fleshing out more details for our cover identities. I wonder how he decided on names...... "The Shadow Knows"......mwahahahahahaha.
**********
Doc was not even thinking about laughter as he sat in the cramped seat of the turbo-prop "puddle jumper". Although he'd left an hour before Owen had boarded his flight, the elf mage's itinerary insured that he would still be traveling several hours after the disguised phys ad had arrived. He glanced over at where Mouse sat next to a woman with a screaming child. The mother's obvious distaste for her orkish seat companion did nothing to reassure the squalling infant as the small plane again hit a pocket of turbulence. As the child began vomiting on the decker, Doc recognized that his complaints about being selected for this particular escape route out of town were going to fall on deaf ears as the team's "travel agent" was having the worst time of all.
**********
Although Itami's cover identity, as a deadheading pilot rigger from another airline, should have, he theorized, subjected him to much more thorough scrutiny from airport security, he had breezed by all of the checkpoints. Either Mouse is extra wiz with this false identity stuff, Itami thought, or there's a major exploitable security gap for this carrier. Sitting in the flight crew's extra jump seat, the rigger divided his time between worrying about his boss' safety with the replica artifact and glancing at the suit bag hanging in the jumbo jet's crew closet. Man, I hope there's no magical screening at the Seattle airport, he thought.
**********
Hamon and Lug, traveling together with minimal disguise were the last of the team to leave town. Flying non-stop to Los Angeles, on a 6:00 AM "early bird" flight, the pair were unencumbered by the elaborate false identities and complicated travel plans that their team mates had used. After a good night's sleep and an early morning lock down of the warehouse/HQ known as neverland, the pair of street sams had joined the throng of sleepy corpers jetting out to the coast. Because the proper coded messages had appeared in a number of previously agreed upon chat rooms, the last lost boys left town knowing that the rest of their team had arrived at their destination safely. After reaching LA, the dwarf and his partner would also split up, lose themselves in the crowds, shift identities and grab different flights to Seattle.
9:10? 9:10! By the everlasting! Where is that damned elf? Pietr thought as he nervously paced back and forth in his workroom. For the eighth time that morning he smashed down on the com button.
"Yes, sir?" The rich tones of the butler/bodyguards' voice asked.
"No sign, Andreas?"
"I have nothing on any of the monitors, sir." The huge troll answered patiently. "I will notify you instantly of any change, sir"
"Hmmmm? Oh, yes, yes. Of course. But none of the homers are working?"
"I'm afraid not, sir." Andreas said, repressing a sigh. "Apparently your guest had help waiting, or a good deal more technical ability than we anticipated, sir. None of the locational devices are functioning and your guest has not returned. Will there be anything else, sir?"
"No..........no. But let me know as soon as anything happens." Pietr said as he nervously bit at the end of his manicured nails.
"Yes, sir" The troll responded as he returned his complete attention to the screens of the multiple monitors in his security office.
Damn, Damn, Damn, Damn! Fitzhue thought furiously. His research had given him some idea of the potential of the artifact that Pietr had called about. He'd spent the entire night pouring through the Foundation's most ancient texts and, if he was right, the artifact in question was more powerful than he dared hope. An item beyond antiquity, half of a pair whose power was so great that....... well, it's beyond imagining. But who could have been in those tomes ahead of me? Clearly the ancient texts had been consulted recently. The dust alone was enough to tell that someone had been looking at the exact same passages, even if I hadn't set up my hidden watcher. The Wind master's face broke for a second in a small self-congratulatory smile over his foresight in establishing a watcher in the Library which could reveal which parts of what books had been consulted. Twice before the spirit had tipped him to plots by other factions within the foundation's Byzantine power structure. But the damned thing couldn't tell me who it was looking at those tomes. He thought with frustration. They must have been masked, but why would anyone disguise themselves to do research? Could they have tumbled to the fact that I have an observer? Isn't he too well hidden for that? Before his paranoia could completely take hold, the mage abruptly returned focus on the more immediate problem. STOP! Too many questions are unproductive. Basics. Who was looking and why were they looking? If they consulted the library before I got there it couldn't have been a result of Pietr's call. It must have been even earlier. Damn! That means that I'm in a race with someone to recover this piece of history. Well, if that's the case then I certainly cannot afford to rest on my laurels.
Suiting actions to thoughts Maynard immediately put in a call to his favorite captain of the Mystic Crusaders. "Quillum", he said by way of acknowledging the face on the com screen. Quillum dipped his head in acknowledgment as he slid the dark glasses over his red eyes. Although Maynard surmised from his captain's wildly disheveled hair that the warrior had just been awakened, the wind master knew that the red eyes were not a result of interrupted sleep. They, like the long white hair and pale skin were evidence of this deadly human male's albinism.
"I have an assignment for you, Captain." Maynard said, "I need you to be ready to move within the hour. I will put together the standard briefing data and have it waiting for you on the plane. I don't have any idea yet about opposition.......external or internal", he said after a dramatic pause, but then looking directly into the pick-up said intensely,"so I trust you will be ready for anything."
Quillum's head again dipped in acknowledgment.
"Excellent."
*********
Within minutes of his call to Quillum, Maynard answered the chirp of an incoming call.
"Yes?"
"Brother Maynard, I ...... uhm....... I have a..... complication to report." Pietr nervously stammered.
The sinking sensation was palpable as the Wind Master said, "Yes?"
"The artifact....... well, it hasn't....... come back and its overdue......"
"Comeback? COMEBACK?! Comeback from where?! Where did you send it?"
"I didn't precisely 'send' it anywhere. The owner's agent received instructions to return to the owner with it. I.... uhm..... attempted to get him to stay but................ I, uhm, did get a promise that he would return with the item at 9:00am......"
"And what time is it now in your location?"
"10:00 am" Pietr replied softly.
"Well, thank goodness you wrung that oath out of them." Fitzhue said with biting sarcasm. Over the next several minutes the Wind Master conducted an unpleasantly direct inquisition into Pietr's thoughts and actions, interspersing his questions with a blistering fusillade of invective over the small scholar's lack of planning. Eventually releasing his squirming victim, Maynard assembled his data packet and summoned a courier to take the package to the airfield.
*********
Some eight minutes after departing with the packet, the courier, following the familiar route to the airfield, handed off the package to Quillum at the door to the Foundation's private jet. He got the signature from the silent albino, checked it against the one on record in his computer pad and got back on his bike to ride away. Ooh, my mind must be wandering, he thought on finding himself downtown, I don't remember a thing of the ride back from the airport. I wonder if I'm getting enough sleep........
"Hehehehe" Quillum chortled as he started back to the waiting limo on the isolated country road. With each step his form shrank and changed until it became a dwarf "Got'em, Got'em! Mindfucked the sod good an proper! Thought he was at the plane he did!" The blue bearded figure sang as he approached the car. He sank to one knee and held the package out with downcast eyes as the car door opened. "For you, my lord. The fart master's instruction for his lackey....."
"Oh, do shut up, you tedious little man," the aristocratic voice drawled as it's owner accepted and opened the package. "I swear, if it weren't for your occasional uses, I'd...........hello, what's this?" Interrupting himself as he scanned the sheets the aristocratic elf absently brushed imaginary lint from the lapel of his fabulous red suit. Stopping to reread the material he muttered "Ha. Even a blind pig finds an acorn occasionally. I underestimated your sources Fitz, old boy." Glancing up from his reading the elf focused inward as he determined his next course of action. "Oh, get up, you buffoon." he said as an afterthought to the kneeling dwarf. "I think you will be traveling, Madcap. I want you to work with Nestor on this. Nestor!"
As the ugly elf climbed out of the front of the limo, Gregory Carmichael, Fire Master of the Council of Elements, decided on his plan. "Nestor, you and Madcap are to make use of the information you find here in retrieving an artifact of value. You will have to fly out immediately. Gather whatever resources you require, but do not fail to return with the artifact. Time is of the essence as the Wind Master is dispatching Quillum with this same task..... which reminds me, when you have finished reading those I will need to reseal them in this package which you will have to see is delivered to the albino at the airport. Noone is to know that you have undertaken this quest for me, is that understood?" At the nods from his two agents Carmichael grinned to himself. A race to the prize, he thought.
The Shadorat and shapcano. Together again for the first time! This serial continues at Winterhawk's Virtual Magespace. To read Chapter 12 click here.
This story is copyright of the author. Shadowrun is a Registered Trademark of FASA Corporation. All Rights Reserved. Used without permission. Any use of FASA Corporation's copyrighted material or trademarks in this file should not be viewed as a challenge to those copyrights or trademarks.
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