Never trust an elf

PART 3

"There is a mage nearby."

The certainty in Scatter's voice gave troublesome weight to the rat shaman's announcement. Kham looked around the sea of desks and workstations that surrounded him and his crew. He saw nothing; no sign that anyone had entered the room. The Weeze shook her head, signifying that she had spotted no one in the corridor. Over by the window, Neko was giving a sim- i ilar all-clear. The Tacoma facility of Andalusian Light Industries wasn't all that big, but the tangle of buildings, garages, sheds, and warehouses offered more than enough places for even a mundane to hide, as they had proven in penetrating to this office structure.

"Anybody wit him?" Kham asked, but the rat shaman ignored this question as she ignored most of his questions. Kham had to be philosophical about it; even if she answered, he wasn't sure he could trust her estimate. She had her own ideas about how to run things, as he had learned in their quarrelsome planning sessions for this run. Perhaps she was trying to force him into certain actions by playing information control, trusting that she could handle any problems. That would be trouble. Scatter had a lot more faith in her abilities, both as a magician and as a strategist, than Kham did, but he knew he could count on her to do her best, however little that was, as long as she needed their mundane firepower to save her hide.

Walking over to the workstation where their decker

Chigger was jacked in, Kham looked at the screen. The display of whirling geometries and shifting computer images meant nothing to him. For all he knew, Chigger could be playing some kind of arcade game. Damn, he hated depending on deckers. They were less reliable than magicians, which was saying quite a bit, and none of it in their favor. He spent a brief moment wishing he had Dodger for the Matrix work; he knew Sally Tsung thought the elven decker was wiz. Then he remembered that the elf would probably be even less predictable than usual in this context.

He punched Chigger lightly in the shoulder. "Come on, get inta da files."

Chigger just rolled his head back and sighed. "Hurry, Chigger!" urged Ryan, the new kid. Rat-stomper and The Weeze had recommended him, saying he might be green but he was good with locks. They had already used him to get into the building, but the kid wasn't going to be any use to them if he panicked. From the look of him, Ryan was on the edge of letting his fear take control. Kham hoped he'd calm down; they didn't need a panicker. Ryan continued to urge the decker to greater efforts, while nervously fingering the snarl of amulets and talismans around his neck.

It was bad enough they were doing this run with a first-timer kid. They didn't need one who had also lost his grip on reality. Ryan was dripping with the rat shaman's hoodoos, which in itself wasn't bad. Most of the kids in the Underground had them, though maybe not quite so many as Ryan. Those gewgaws would be worthless to him, magically anyway; Ryan was mundane. But whatever they did or didn't do, the kid believed they worked. Maybe the trinkets would keep him calm.

What did worry Kham was the amulets his guys had taken up. Like Ryan, Ratstomper and The Weeze were wearing the silvered rat skulls and tangled bits of bone that were Scatter's tokens. Even Rabo had one of the skulls. Kham had noticed the way Ratstomper had fawned on Scatter, back when the Green Band's scuz-boys were working Neko over. Now, The Weeze had taken to backing Scatter's suggestions. Even Rabo had agreed with one or two of the shaman's ideas. Bad signs, all. Scatter was gaining influence with his guys, and she was the only available magician for this run. What was the next step?

He checked on Scatter, thinking maybe she was doing something about the mage she claimed was nearby, but she was just sitting where she'd plopped herself down when they'd entered the room. Her legs crossed underneath her, she swayed slightly, occasionally humming to herself. Her eyes were rolled back in her head and the eyelids twitched irregularly, giving her a disturbingly uncanny look. She might be doing magic. Or she might just be wigged out on drugs.

You just never knew with shamans.

Ryan's exhortations were growing more frantic. So much for his faith in Scatter's magical protection. Kham hissed at him and told him to keep the noise down, but it was only a minute or two before the kid was back at it again. Despite Ryan's agitation, the only reply Chigger gave to all his urging was an occasional grunt.

Frowning, Kham turned to Rabo. "Ya said dis guy was good, Rabo."

"He is, Kham, he is. Must be a lot of ice."

"Well we're gonna get iced if he ain't outta dere soon wit what we need."

"He'll make it," Rabo insisted. "Trust me."

"It's yer butt, too."

Rabo thought about that for a second. "Come on, Chigger. Move your virtual butt."

Silence descended on the room, save for the intermittent flurries of tapping from Chigger's fingers flying across the keyboard of his cyberdeck. The seconds dragged into minutes; long, sweat-producing minutes. Kham nearly jumped when Scatter announced, "The mage has moved on." They all breathed a collective sigh. "We were lucky," Neko commented. Scatter turned eyes of deep, dark mud on the catboy. "Nothing of the sort. My spirits protected us. They shielded us from the Andalusian wage mage, blinding her eyes and ears to our presence."

"Way to go, Scatter," Ryan said, giving her a double thumbs-up.

On the other hand, Kham thought, it could be that the mage just decided to go to the can. They had no way of knowing if Scatter had done anything at all. They still hadn't really gotten anywhere.

Then Chigger gave a moaning chuckle, the same queer victory signal he'd uttered when he'd secured copies of the IDs used by the company that serviced Andalusian's phone system. The decker dropped into the real world and said, "Got a loc."

"Don't keep it ta yourself. Pop it over ta Rabo's screen and get back ta grabbing anyting dey got on da crystal."

The decker mumbled something and resumed his tapping on the cyberdeck. His screen still churned with agitated shapes, but the monitor on which Rabo had been following his progress blanked for a second. The new image that appeared was a diagram of the facility. Kham recognized the layout of the buildings, so he knew that the red dot identified their current position. A red line zigzagged across the compound to a flashing pip that should be the area where the crystal was stored. It was two buildings over. Kham didn't like it; too many of the areas on the diagram were dark.

"What's dis drek? How come so much is blacked out."

"Must be a partitioned system," Rabo said. "Different parts of the facility are under different security protocols."

"Why didn't Chigger cut into the main program?"

"There may not be one. Depends on how paranoid the security chief is."

"We got anyting on how secure dat area is?"

Rabo ran the keyboard, causing a series of windows to pop up and vanish in rapid succession. The stuff went by too fast for Kham to make sense of the data. At last Rabo hit the Enter key with a flourish and said, "There. That's what we got."

Yellow dots appeared at scattered locations of the diagram, some brighter than others. The clusters at the gates and in the security headquarters building Kham took to represent guards. Surprisingly, there were only a few along the route Chigger had shown them; the decker had done his job right.

"Alarms?"

"Chigger'll ride cover."

"Good enough." It had better be. If the decker couldn't override the alarms as the rest of the team proceeded, they'd bring all of Andalusian's security down on their heads. "Now just where is dis place we're headed?"

"Main assembly building. Ground floor's mostly open space and automated assembly lines. They'll still be running, which means supervisors, but we'll miss all that if we follow Chigger's route. We'll be coming in along an access tunnel into Basement Level One. The rock's three levels down on Number Four."

"Underground. Yes. That is where we must go." Scatter chuckled. "The spirits speak of secrets hidden beneath the earth."

Geez, don't need this mumbo-jumbo drek. If only he had been able to get a real magician. Kham tried to ignore her. "How come the security's so light?"

"Perhaps they are running the purloined letter gambit," Neko suggested.

Without Kham noticing, the catboy had joined them at the console. That meant nobody was watching the outside. Kham sent Ratstomper; he'd rather have the cat-boy's advice than 'Stamper's. Besides, with 'Stamper out of the conversation, Scatter wouldn't have quite so much support among his guys for this round. "Okay, catboy, what's dis letter stuff?"

"I meant that perhaps they conceal the importance of what they hide by not hiding it at all."

"No," Scatter said sharply. "There are magical defenses."

Kham didn't doubt that, even if he didn't believe Scatter had definitely determined their presence. "Ya gonna be able ta deal wit 'em?" "My spirits are strong." "Right."

They skimmed Chigger's data filchings for what they could use and laid plans to further penetrate the An-dalusian facility. Kham started to feel a slim hope that they might actually pull it off. Half an hour later, they left Chigger to dig for files and ride Matrix overwatch, and Ryan to guard the decker while he worked. They made it down to the basement without a hitch, but a sentry at the entry to the tunnel required a bit of special attention from Neko. The catboy amazed Kham with the stealthiness of his stalking and the sureness of his strike. The guard never knew what hit him, but then Kham didn't either. One moment the uniformed man was standing there. The next minute he had crumpled to the ground. They stowed the fellow in a utility closet, and waited for Chigger to signal that he had overridden the lock. Then they headed down the tunnel.

The entry to-the assembly building's basement had a manual lock as well as an electronic one. Chigger cut the latter, but he couldn't do anything about the former. Before Kham could regret having left Ryan with the decker, Neko stepped up and began working on the lock. His skill in opening it was another surprise from the catboy, leaving Kham to wonder why he had needed Ryan on the crew at all.

Lights and occasional noises from some of the rooms indicated that there were still active company folk on this level, so they moved through it as quietly as possible. That wasn't too hard. The late-night wage slaves were snugged by their consoles in isolated cocoons of light. They had no interest in the corridors, or anything beyond their little worlds of chair and workstation, for that matter. Besides, it was easy to sneak along on carpeted floors.

Once aboard the freight elevator, Kham pressed the button marked BL4 and they started down. Chigger overrode a signal from Level Three, ordering the car to proceed without responding to the suit or wage slave calling for an elevator on that floor. Reaching Level Four, they soon found new reason to be cautious. Most of the illumination panels were out and those that remained lit were functioning at reduced output.

"Economy measure," Ratstomper suggested tentatively, almost as if she didn't believe it herself.

Kham reached up and lifted the panel covering one of the darkened fixtures. Like its covering, the bulb was intact. In the first office they found, Rabo used the terminal to contact Chigger.

"Cut off," the decker told them. He didn't know who had done it, but he was sure that it wasn't an authorized reduction.

Kham cherished the thought that an employee might be responsible, until they found a guard sprawled at the first corridor junction, his neck broken from be-

hind. The conclusion was inescapable; someone else had also made an unauthorized entry into the facility. Two minutes later, in the fitful light of the darkened corridors, they saw who.

There were three of them. They were moving cautiously, too, and even more slowly than Kham's crew. They were rough boys-meres or razorguys, judging by their looks. A professional team, too, judging by their stealth and the seamless coordination of the drill they used when passing doors and corridor junctions. The problem was that they were between Kham's guys and the rock and headed in the same direction.

They might have been shadowrunners, but Kham had never seen more than two runners who went for the same look. Though each of these guys was different from the others, their overall appearance showed a striking similarity. Kham thought about the twinned cyberguys they'd run with; maybe look-alike was the new style.

All of these rough boys were big-bigger even than Kham. They looked a little oddly proportioned; their heads seemed too small for their bodies, like caricatures of professional bodybuilders. They wore what looked like close-fitting helmets and their heads were protected from behind by a jutting ridge from their backpacks. Wire-thin aerials poked up past their sleek pates, and other wires protruded at irregular intervals along the sides of the backpacks. They were blatantly armored with extensive matte-finish chrome and they were dripping with weapons-from holstered pistols and knives to what looked like Ceres tribarrel machine guns. These guys were pure heavy metal from hell.

The last of the three rough boys stopped and turned slightly. His position under one of the lit ceiling panels gave Kham a good look at him. Much of what Kham had taken for armor were cybernetic replacement parts, but what struck the ork most was the guy's face. What he could see of it. The little flesh that wasn't plated over looked gray and shriveled. Tubes snaked from his nose and slithered over his shoulder to disappear into a junction on the backpack's ridge, and the light from above glinted coldly on the gleaming chrome orbs of his eyes.

"Who da hell are dese guys?" "Not security," Neko whispered. With awe in her reedy voice, The Weeze added, "They're carrying three times the ordnance we got." Ordnance was ordnance, and a single bullet could kill you just as dead as twenty. These cyberized bozos were here and interfering in Kham's run; that was all that mattered to him. "Scatter, why didn't you spot 'em?"

"They were not there," the rat shaman said, pouting.

"Well, dey're here now. You saying dey teleported in, like from da Enterprise? Drek, wouldn't dat be sweet."

Scatter gave him a withering stare. "No teleport; they have no magic."

"You sure? Dey been hiding from you." "No magic," Scatter insisted. There was a frantic note in her voice, which was also rising in volume. "None!"

"Geez," Kham hissed. "Keep it down, ya old bat." "Lay off the shaman, Kham," Ratstomper whined. "She's already saved our butts plenty."

The crew quieted down, but it was too late. With slow, machine-like precision, the heavy metal intruder swiveled his head to stare into the darkness between the light fixtures where Kham and his runners were crouched.

Before they could react, the rough boy had them covered. His trjbarrel hissed softly as the barrels spun at speed on their silenced bearings, but for some reason he didn't fire. Kham was relieved; this was no place for a firefight with opponents armored so heavily they looked almost made of metal. Since only one had tumbled to their presence, there was a chance that he and the guys could take these bozos down if their fire was fast and accurate enough. But Kham's guys would take losses. They'd blow the run, too. Kham knocked Ratstomper's hand away from her holster before she could get a grip on her gun.

The metal man, apparently satisfied that Kham's team offered no threat, snapped the snout of his weapon up into carry position and began to mumble to himself. Kham dared to breathe once more, but only until he realized that the tribarrel was built into the guy's arm. These guys were some kind of super sol- diers. What the frag had he and the guys bumped into?

The metal man started toward them, moving quietly, for all his bulk. The scent he gave off was mostly machine oil, cordite, and plastic, but underneath it all, Kham caught a whiff of something rotten and decaying. The guy stopped a few meters away. A good leap might put Kham inside the sweep of the tribarrel. The idea was gutsy, but not bright. That kind of cowboy move might work against an ordinary opponent, but it would be suicide against the coiled-spring speed of this metal man.

"WHAT-" The sound of the guy's first word reverberated so loudly in the corridor that he stopped speaking immediately. He hummed to himself for a moment, then began again, his voice much softer. "You are not Andalusian personnel. What are you doing here?"

Kham managed to find his voice; no one else in his group seemed ready to speak to this guy. Hostile wouldn't get them anywhere, so he tried to make his tone casual and friendly. He also hoped he sounded confident, but he doubted it. "Could ask ya the same, chummer, 'cause ya sure ain't on da Andalusian staff." The hard line of the rough boy's mouth twitched down at the corners. "I am not here to answer questions. I have the gun, you will answer my questions." "Eliminate them," the second one said. The other two had come ghosting up behind the first.

"Negative," said the third. "Elimination entails unacceptable reduction of mission success-probability due to noise factor. Beta has already lowered probability by two percent with speech volumes."

"What are these guys?" Ratstomper wailed, voice cracking. "Some kind of fragging robots?"

"Silence!" commanded number three. Something in the manner of the other two suggested that this one was their leader. "Interference in our mission will not be tolerated. If your talking sufficiently raises the probability of discovery, your elimination will no longer threaten our mission, and you will be eliminated." Ratstomper looked bewildered. "Da chummer just told ya ta shut up, 'Stomper. Do it." Kham returned his attention to the metal men. "We don't want no trouble wit you chummers. None of us is Andalusian, so we ain't got no feud. Ya do yer biz, we do ours, and everybody's happy."

"You will remain here. You cannot be allowed to interfere with our mission."

"Don't want ta."

"Beta, move them out of the corridor and remain with them."

A gesture with the tribarrel pointed out the chosen room, and Kham nodded to his guys that they should go along. Everybody moved quietly, pointedly keeping their hands away from their weapons. Kham carried his AK in his left hand, and held his right up at chest level, well away from the butt of either the hol-stered automatic or that of the magnum protruding from his belt.

Their captor waited until the door to the corridor was closed before turning on the room lights. The place was some kind of electronics lab, but Kham didn't know enough about such things to even guess at the uses of most of the equipment. He was sure that none of it would be useful as a weapon. Neko tried to put a counter between him and the metal guy, but a shake of the rough boy's head, emphasized by a pointing tribarrel, brought the catboy back around to the front. Neko gave Kham a shrug, then sat with his back against the counter and shut his eyes. Kham was damned if he didn't think the catboy was taking a nap.

Time dragged on. Though their captor never seemed jumpy, he was always alert, reacting to their slightest movements, but only bringing the tribarrel to bear when somebody's hand got too close to a weapon. One by one, the guys got tired of standing and sat down; all except for Scatter, who stared venomously at the metal guy.

After about twenty minutes, Kham felt the pulsed flashes of heat from the earpiece of his headset. It was the signal that Chigger wanted to communicate with them. He would have simply ignored the signal, but their captor turned cold chrome eyes on him. "Explain the signal." Somehow this guy knew that Kham was getting a message. Denying it wouldn't help. "Car's over-parked."

"Unlikely. Try again, smart boy." Kham considered keeping his mouth shut, but he wanted to know the reason for Chigger's call. If there was trouble, he doubted that Andalusian security would make fine distinctions between the two groups of intruders. "It's a call from our decker. He wants ta talk ta me."

The metal guy blinked once. Kham couldn't be sure about those featureless orbs, but he thought the metal guy's gaze was roving the room. Then the man pointed at a workstation and said, "Order your decker to input to this station."

"Why should I? What's in it fer us?" "Your lives," the metal man replied with the ghost of a smile.

He was probably right. The Andalusians would have them if they ignored Chigger, and this rough boy would waste them if they ignored him. Some choice. Kham did as ordered. "Whatcha got, Chigger?"

"Got an alert on the system. Routine now, but the trigger seems to be somewhere near you. You guys blow it?"

"Naw. We're just sitting around." The metal man reached past Kham and switched off the voice input. "You will order your decker to penetrate the security system and set off false alerts." "That'll wake up da whole place." "It will reduce their security's effectiveness by spreading their effort. They will not know which alarm is real and which is false." "Yeah, so?"

"It will hide our efforts." "Ya mean yer efforts. We ain't in dis togedder." "Kham," Neko said softly, eyes still closed, "if Andalusian security concentrates their efforts here, we are in as great a danger as our large friends are. More, perhaps. I suggest you do as he says. Confusion is profit to the shadowrunner.''

Only when you're in charge and know what's really going down, Kham thought. Still, there was a certain logic in the argument. Kham relayed the metal guy's orders to Chigger.

While Kham was convincing Chigger to do as the metal man said, the rough boy popped open a panel in his chest plate and pulled out a jack. Plugging into the console, he said, "You will also have him disable the alarms at the locations I transmit."

"I suppose it can't hurt." Us, anyway. Who knew what kind of 1C Chigger'd run up against? Kham hoped it wouldn't be bad. "When ya got dat done, try dis," he said, telling Chigger what their captor wanted. Then he cut the connection, leaving Chigger to do what had to be done.

"We have achieved a significant increase in success probability. The random elements have provided a Matrix operative with access to portions of the inner facility system," their captor said. Though he was talking, he did not seem to be addressing them. Kham and his guys could hear him, too. They waited some more.

Scatter twitched like she was seeing something. Then Kham heard distant gunfire: short, controlled bursts as the characteristic moan of a tribarrel answered a scattering of single shots. It didn't last long. Within less than a minute, the door to their jail slid open, heralding the return of the other two metal men. Seeing one carrying the crystal in a padded harness slung over his shoulder, Kham thought his eyes would bug out. Drek, the guy was as strong or stronger than a troll; it had taken three orks to manhandle that same rock into the elves' van.

Their guard nodded to his cronies like he was answering a question. He seemed to listen again, then said, "Acknowledged.You may leave," he said, turning to Kham. "We have no further interest in your activities. However, I suggest you flee. Andalusian security is active." No fragging drek.

These bozos had stolen Kham's prize out from under his nose and now they were offering him and his guys a chance to provide yet another distraction to Andalusian security. Real fragging swell.

The metal men took off down the corridor. Released, Kham's team started digging out their weapons. They were itching to go, but he was worried the first one out the door would catch a burst from a tribarrel. Kham tried to grab Neko as the catboy bolted from the door. He missed the snatch, but it wasn't disastrous; the catboy pulled up short without going through, listening.

"They're around the corner already." Drek, they were fast!

There was a rush for the door. As Scatter went by, she started to turn away from the direction the rest of the guys were running. Kham collared her. Their team didn't have the firepower of the metal men; they'd need an edge to get out of the facility alive. "Wit us, rat-lady," he said, pulling her along.

They backtracked through the facility, heading for where they'd left Ryan and Chigger. Much to Kham's surprise, and relief, they made it back without trouble. Gunfire from outside told him the guards had found the rough boys. Kham smiled at that; who was providing whom a diversion now? With his crew reunited, it was time to beat feet. He gave Scatter a shake.

"All right, rat shaman. If yer spirits are so hot, let's see 'em get us outta here." "Put me down, oaf," the old woman snarled at him.

"Ya gonna help us or scamper like yer totem?" She struggled ineffectually in Kham's grip. "Ya got a better chance if we're along wit ya."

She stopped struggling and stared sullenly at him. "You could be right."

"lam."

"Put me down."

He did. She made a show of dusting herself off and making ineffectual passes through her snarled hair. Worthless preening, and a waste of time as well, but Kham knew she was only trying to impress her importance and dignity on him. Let her try; nothing she did could give her dignity in his eyes. Importance? Well, important was as important did. Rationally, he knew that there was another purpose in what she did; a magician needed to be calm and collected to do her magic. Not so calm as to think she could double-cross them, though. He showed his tusks and said, "Dere are enough of us ta get ya if ya try ta frag wit us. And even if we don't get ya, ya still gotta get past da guards. Ain't gonna be nobody ta shoot de Andies on yer tail if ya dump us. Dey got a mage, remember?"

"There is no need to threaten me. I have accepted your evaluation of the situation." She stuck her runny nose up in the air. "Now, be silent! I must speak with the spirits."

Scatter raised her arms above her head and rattled her collection of charms and talismans. Swaying, she danced a few steps and hummed. The dance speeded up and she began to chant.

"Oh mighty Donsedantay, hear me. Come, oh mighty spirit. Walk with us and shield us with your cloak. Guide us out from this place, guard us from those who would do us harm. Donsedantay, dweller in this place, hear me. Donsedantay, come to my call." The old woman chanted on while Kham sweated. This was taking time, too much time. Why couldn't she just wave her hands and do the magic? That was the way Sally Tsung worked. Fragging shamans always had to make a show out of the thing. Besides, while this rat shaman was doing her song and dance, the \ Andalusian guards might be closing in on them this very minute. Certainly the Andies were sealing off the entrances to the complex.

There would be no getting out the way they got in. With a full alert on, the bribes Kham had paid wouldn't keep the guards bought. He couldn't afford to pay them not to see the people huddled in the back of their bogus Gaeatronics Telecommunications repair van. There would be fighting, and the van was just a van; he and the guys would never make it past the front gate without armor. They'd have to drop back to plan B: head for the wire, blow their way through, and disperse. And pray they got away.

"We have the protection of the mighty Donsedan-tay," Scatter announced.

For whatever that's worth, Kham thought. Yet something had changed; the air around them seemed charged with electricity. This wasn't like Sally's magic and that made Kham uncomfortable. Still, somehow, in some indefinable way, he felt safer. "Dis better work."

"Have faith, boy. The spirits are strong and they heed my call. I shall lead you to safety." Ryan, Rat-stomper, and The Weeze looked relieved as she stepped into their midst. Even Rabo perked up. Scatter pointed to the door. "We leave that way."

The guys starting moving, Scatter leading from within their group. Neko gave Kham a shrug and a bemused smile before also falling into step. Kham noted the catboy held his little SCK submachine gun ready. Kham checked his AK and followed. They left the building by a side door, after making

sure no Andalusian guards were in sight. Keeping to the shadows, they moved through the complex, avoiding the main thoroughfares, where occasionally they could see security vehicles prowling. Several times squads of Andies passed at various crossroads, often hesitating, but never turning toward them. Scatter's magic seemed to be holding. But Kham knew that somewhere out there was a mage, and he wasn't sure the rat shaman's magic would be enough to hide them from a magician's sight.

The sounds of combat tore his thoughts away from magic and mages. Kham heard first an explosion, then gunfire, coming from no more than a hundred meters away. From the sound, the firefight was going on ahead of them, probably somewhere on the next thoroughfare. Neko stole ahead to scout. He signaled for a cautious approach, so Kham joined him to see what was going on.

The Andies had engaged and injured one of the metal men. The wounded rough boy was crawling away from a crater in the pavement, trailing an oily black sludge from gaps in his shredded chrome leg. Sprawled in the middle of the road was an Andie clutching a rifle-mounted grenade launcher; he'd paid for the shot that had gotten the cyberguy. The Andies buddies were peppering the cripple with light-weapons fire, but they obviously didn't have any more heavy stuff. And none of them was taking the chance of running out to recover their downed chummer's weapon. Too bad, Kham thought. That was the only way they were going to be able to dust this guy. But then, the Andies would probably have reinforcements soon, and those newcomers would doubtless be loaded for bear. Metal glittered in the darkness across the way, spooking Kham. He brought up the AK, but held fire when he saw what was coming toward him: the other two metal men. Instead of charging the runners, however, the two guys took the corner and raced down the thoroughfare with unnatural speed. Their tribarrels moaned in short, sobbing bursts and an Andie dropped with each burst. One of the metal men stopped by his fallen companion and helped the guy up while the other stood over them, placing bursts that kept the Andalu-sian guards under cover. Despite all the confusion of the weapons fire, Kham realized that these rough boys no longer had the crystal.

Drek! All that fuss and the bastards had lost the rock. Now that the elf was alerted that someone knew where he was keeping it, they'd never have another chance to get at it again. At least not one that Kham could mount. Every bullet being fired was another hole in the balloon of Kham's dream; they'd lost the gamble. The only good thing was that those fragging piles of walking hardware were attracting all the Andalu-sians' attention, giving him and the guys a chance to get away.

But before he could get his guys organized enough to take advantage of the Andies' preoccupation, screeching brakes announced a new arrival. A vehicle had arrived somewhere out of sight behind the guards' position. The reinforcements, no doubt. Moments later, a woman stepped around the corner of the building. Glowing with arcane energy, she gave off enough light for Kham to see the grim determination on her face. The Andie wagemage had finally made her appearance.

The metal man on overwatch gave her a burst, but the bullets howled away in whining ricochets. Smiling tightly, the mage waved her hands in a conjuring gesture, then straightened one arm in a casting motion. Lambent energy streamed from her fingers, coiling into a brilliant beam that shot through the air like a laser. The air around the trio of cyberguys began to glow, lighting them up as if they stood in the glare of a hundred arclights. The edges of the sphere of light wavered like pavement on a hot summer day; the forms of the metal men within the light were just flickering shadows. The wounded cyberguy howled as his injured leg started sparking, the flashes of light even brighter than the flaring magic around them. So hellishly intense was the light that Kham expected the rough boys to start smoldering and then wither away to ashes. For a moment nothing happened, as everyone watched the cyberguys engulfed in the wage mage's spell. Time seemed frozen. Then the glow surrounding the metal men faded some, then a bit more. Continuing to dwindle away, the light dissolved into the ruddy glow of dying embers, then winked out. Seemingly untouched, the cyberguys remained standing where they had been. The mage looked worried.

As one. the metal men raised their tribarrels and opened up on the mage in a triple stream of fire. The tracers burned lines in the night no less brilliant than the mage's spell. The wage mage staggered back, her magic still shielding her, but Kham could tell that wouldn't last long. Turning, the mage tried to run for cover, but it was too late. A small rocket launched by the cyberguy leader impacted at the mage's feet, tossing her into the air. Her arcane shield faltered and three streams of tracers intersected in her, ripping her apart.

Under renewed fire from the Andalusian guards, the metal men started a slow retreat back toward the runners, indicating that the rough boys weren't planning to stay and finish off this batch of Andies. Kham and his guys couldn't afford to wait any longer. There was no telling where the cyberguys would head. Drek, they might even decide to take up residence in the alley the orks currently occupied. It was time to go now and make the best of it.

Kham led his guys out of the alley, urging them to run like hell across the road. To his surprise, they were not instantly riddled with bullets. One slug did strike the pavement near him, but Kham concluded that it was a stray or a ricochet when no others followed. Once everyone was safely under cover and sheltered from fire by the building, they stopped for a second to confirm that no one had been hit. Fortunately, all was well.

Looking around, Kham hoped desperately that he might discover some other option than running straight down the alley; the cyberguys might come this way just as easily as they might have stumbled into the place where the orks had been hiding on the other side of the road. About ten meters down, he spotted a turn-off from the alley, but it led north, probably right back to where the Andies were taking cover from the metal men. Other than that, the alley went on for a ways before dumping out into what looked like one of the complex's main thoroughfares, though Kham couldn't tell which one.

Then he noticed something. A truck, sitting hard by the side of the building near the turnoff that led north. It was pointed toward them, but its rear doors were open. Though bearing the Andalusian logo, something about the vehicle just didn't look right to Kham. "Hey, Rabo. Whaddya make 'a dat truck?"

The rigger squinted at the dark shape. He screwed up his face in concentration, then spoke with the assurance of a rigger who knows his hardware. "Marked Andalusian, but it's not standard Andie issue. Armored for sure. Carrying a load, too. Maybe it's the wheels those other bastards came in." "See anybody in it?"

"Naw." Rabo went pale. "You ain't thinking what I think you're thinking, are,you?"

Rabo was quick and Neko was just as fast, adding. "You want to walk home?"

"They'll kill us if they catch us heisting their wheels from underneath 'em."

"Tink da Andies wanta give us hugs and kisses?"

"Time is wasting," Neko pointed out.

"Right." Dragging Scatter along in hopes it would keep her spirit's alleged protection around them, Kham led the way to the truck. Once they were closer, he could see that the cab was indeed empty. No one came out the rear to challenge them, either. "Can ya handle her, Rabo?"

Rabo peered into the cab. "She's rigged. If the system ain't guarded, we'll be rolling in two."

"And if it is guarded?" Chigger asked in a panic.

"Then I get fried," Rabo answered with a resigned shrug. "And you get to try next."

Chigger protested, "I'm no rigger."

"Truck's only going to roll for somebody with a jack. If it ain't me, it's you."

"You're wasting time," Neko said.

Rabo turned on Neko. "Look, catboy-"

"He's right," Kham said.

"Yeah," Rabo said sheepishly. Pulling the door open, he climbed in. He looked at the plug for a moment, his tongue slipping along his lips. Then, with practiced skill, he snugged it home into his datajack. Lights flickered on the console and Rabo slumped.

Not another one, Kham thought, but his fear was unfounded. Rabo stirred as the lights on the console steadied.

"She's mine," he said with a grin. "All aboard."

Kham hustled the crew around to the back doors, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what was inside. Sitting there in a padded cradle was the crystal.

This vehicle definitely belonged to the metal men. They must have loaded the rock, then gone back for their injured comrade. Such touching sentiment! Kham ran a hand down one side of the stone. They'd fragged Kham's run, and now he was going to return the favor. Serve the tin-plated bastards right.

The firelight between the metal men and the Andies was winding down, which meant they didn't have much time. After making sure everybody was aboard, Kham swung the doors closed. None too soon; a moaning tribarrel blasted shells against the door just as he snicked the latch shut. "Roll it, Rabo!"

Kham was knocked from his feet as Rabo accelerated. They careened through the Andalusian facility, taking a few wrong turns before Rabo figured out where they were. At one point they plowed straight through a surprised squad of Andalusian guards,but the Andies didn't fire on them. They were too busy trying to deal with the metal men, who, in their single-minded pursuit of the truck, blasted through the corp guards as if they weren't there. The vehicle, however, was fast enough to outrun the hyperactive rough boys, and the orks howled their glee as the cyberguys dwindled away, firing all the while in impotent fury. Rabo crashed the truck through the outer gate, the purloined van's armor shrugging off the guards' fire. Safely through, Kham and his crew roared off into the night.

Kham could tell from the frown on Zasshu Chen's face that the dwarf wasn't happy to see them; he didn't need all the yelling and foot-stomping. It wasn't hard to understand Zasshu's ire, because the truck the runners had abandoned in the Andalusian facility was the dwarfs and it might be traced back to him. Even offering to replace Zasshu's lost truck with the one they had hijacked didn't make the dwarf any happier. He claimed that the bullet scars would make the truck too easy to spot, and the tech on board made it too hot. Once Zasshu had spent his fury and calmed down a bit, Kham persuaded him to accept promises of recompense once the runners realized a profit from their haul. Fortunately, Zasshu wasn't nosy enough that Kham had to explain what they had in the truck. The dwarf must have figured that dumping the truck's own tech on the black market would turn enough to cover his expenses.

But Zasshu wanted to minimize his own exposure, and Kham couldn't argue with that. The dwarf wanted them gone, and soon. It took some fast talking to get him to give the truck a quick spray of paint to hide the Andalusian markings, but in the end even the cautious dwarf had to agree that unless they had at least a little bit of camouflage, they probably wouldn't survive to pay him.

While Zasshu was taking care of the truck, Kham took the opportunity to use the dwarf's telecom. He punched in the code for the flop in the Underground. Lissa answered.

"Hoi."

"Hoi, Lissa."

"Kham?" Her voice quivered a little, as it always did when she realized that he'd survived another run.

"Yeah, babe. We done it."

"Are you coming home now?"

"Got some biz ta take care of first. Be home soon, babe, and when I get back we're gonna do some serious celebrating. Dis run's gonna set us up fer life."

"But you're not coming home now?"

"I told ya. I got some biz ta take care of."

"You're just going to get yourself killed."

Maybe, but he wasn't going to tell her that. "Ain't gonna be a problem."

"Like it wasn't amp; problem for John Parker last time. Like your problems didn't come home with you. Kham, how can you keep doing this to us? To the kids? What are you thinking of? You're a father. You've got responsibilities."

"I know dat. I'm doing dis one fer ya and da kids."

"Don't blame your idiocy on us," she shouted, and then was off on one of her tirades.

He listened. What else could he do? She needed to vent her steam. He knew that Lissa was motivated by fear, that she dreaded the thought of her and the kids being left without his protection. He understood that. Once, he had thought she worried about him getting hurt, but he wasn't so sure anymore. A few years ago, things had been different. Or had they? Maybe he'd just been younger and stupider then. Whatever the truth of the matter, all of Lissa's concerns were valid, even if her words stung him.

When she ran out of steam, he said, "I'll be careful."

"You always say that, but somebody always comes back dead."

"Dat's not true."

"It's true too often."

Before she could start up again, he said, "Gotta go," and hit the button to sign off. That small lie ended the conversation, but it didn't solve anything. Lissa would still be there when this was all over, and he'd have to face her. She wouldn't be happy that he'd hung up on her.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts back to biz before he punched in Sally Tsung's number. The calm, pleasant voice on the other end told him that Sally wasn't in and asked if he wanted to leave a message. Nothing new there. Kham wasn't sure what sort of message to leave. He wanted Sally to look at the crystal and tell him all about it, but he didn't want to trust anything to the phone. So he just said that he had a proposal for biz and that Sally should meet him tomorrow just after sunset, at the usual place just off High Bridge Road. He figured she wouldn't balk at that choice for a meet; it was Ghost's territory and she'd feel safe there to meet with an ork she probably still thought was dead.

Out on the floor of Zasshu's place, they were stripping off the tape that had protected the truck's glass from the paint. It was time to go. Kham rousted the crew.

"Where's Chigger?"

"Buzzed," Rabo told him.

Kham digested that. The decker didn't know much about what was going on, unless he'd learned something in the Andalusian system that he hadn't passed on. But Rabo didn't seem concerned, and Chigger was his chummer. Kham decided to let it ride. Too bad Scatter hadn't gone with the decker; the shaman was back inside the truck, running avaricious fingers over the surface of the crystal.

"Surprised ya didn't buzz wit Chigger. Waiting fer a ride back to da Underground?''

The shaman looked at him with eyes that gleamed from beneath her brows. "Yes, yes. The Underground is the place for this."

"Well, it ain't going dere. Zasshu's right; dis armored van is a hot item, and I ain't about ta dump it in one of da Underground's garages. If it's spotted dere, its owner is goftna know just where ta look fer us, and dat's too close ta home."

"It can be protected in the Underground," Scatter said. "I can protect it."

"Maybe ya can, maybe ya can't. Widdout knowing who dis heap belongs ta, ya don't know what ya gotta hide it from. Whoever sent dose metal men has got resources, and lots of 'em. Until I know what we're dealing wit, I don't wanta call anybody's attention ta da Underground."

"I concur," Neko said. "But some sort of place must be found."

"This ain't it," Zasshu cut in. "You got yer paint, so you can get the fragging hell outta here till you can pay up."

Not wanting to upset the dwarf further, Kham hustled the crew back aboard the truck. "Yer bem' real understanding about dis, Zasshu."

The dwarf hawked and spat. "Ain't got much choice."

"I'll remember dis," Kham said as he climbed into

the truck.

"If you don't, I will. And I know where you live."

"They spent the day rolling through Seattle, stopping only to fuel the truck, grab a bite, or take the chance to drop a load. It wasn't much fun, but neither Kham nor any of the others could think of a safe place to stash the truck.

It was late afternoon when they rolled into the Redmond Barrens, moving down High Bridge Road into one of the more built-up, and consequently tougher, sections of the Barrens. Paradoxically, this part of Redmond was safer for orks because a good part of it was territory that belonged to Ghost-Who-Walks-Inside. Ghost was an Indian and had known his own share of blind intolerance, so he was more accepting than the bulk of the district's population, and his people mostly followed his lead. Still, the Injun didn't have control of the whole population. Who did? Kham sent Neko out to spot when they pulled up to wait for Sally. As the only norm in their crew, he was the best choice. No sense looking,for trouble, even if they were in Ghost's territory.

Neko drifted back in. "A blond woman in fringed leather and a stocky Amerindian with beaded headr band and a matched set of Uzis are coming down the street."

"Sounds like dem." Kham looked out at the gathering darkness. "On time, too."

"You don't need her," Scatter said.

The rat shaman had refused Kham's periodic offers to drop her off near one of the entrances to the Underground, apparently preferring to stay where she could touch the crystal. Kham didn't like, or trust, her possessive attitude toward the thing.

"Need who?" he said offhandedly.

"The Tsung witch."

He squinted at the shaman. "Howddya know who I'm waitin' fer?"

"I am a shaman.'"

"Yeah, right." She was that, but she was a sneaky little bitch as well. He remembered her hanging about Zasshu's office while he made his calls. It was almost the only time he'd seen her away from the crystal since she'd first laid eyes on it. "Got good ears, do ya?"

Scatter ignored his remark. Instead she caressed the crystal and crooned, "It is old. Very, very old."

"Tell me sumpin' I don't know. Like how it works."

"That will take study," she said in a hushed whisper. "But I will learn."

Kham looked out the passthrough to the cab. Through the front window he saw two figures turn the corner onto the street where they were parked. Sally and Ghost. He left the truck and walked around to meet them.

Ghost nodded greeting, and Sally gave him her usual sardonic grin. "Hoi, Kham. Looking good for a hunk of dead, burned orkflesh. 'Zappening? Your call sounded like you had something hot."

Kham nodded. "Some hot magic." Kham led them around to the back of the van, noting that Ghost's eyes roved over the battle scars on the van. The Indian was a street samurai, more highly modified than Kham, but less obviously so. Ghost knew his way around a firefight, and Kham was sure the Indian could smell the new paint. Having checked out the truck, Ghost's eyes now examined the orks clustered at the truck's back doors.

"New boys," Ghost noted. "Tough fight?"

"Not dis one," Kham said.

The Indian nodded-he'd be making his own judgment on Kham's performance, as always-but he said nothing. Kham opened a path through the knot of his guys so Sally could get through. Sally looked into the body and said, "When did you take up understatement, Kham?"

"Told ya it was hot. Whatcha tink it is?"

She shook her head, frowning in puzzlement.

"Static on the screen." "I told you she would be no help," Scatter said

from the darkness of the truck.

Sally turned cold eyes on the rat shaman. "And who's this paragon of knowledge and haute couture?" "Scatter," Kham said. "Our shaman," Ryan added proudly. "Shaman, hunh?" Sally cocked her head. "Rat, right?"

"Rat is my totem." Scatter's tone sounded a trifle defensive to Kham.

"Well, if you could have done what my chummer Kham needed done, I don't think he would have called me. Do you?"

Scatter hissed at her. "I will unravel the crystal's secrets."

"Sure you will, stinky. But for now, step out or step back. It's time for a pro to go to work."

The rat shaman refused to budge, but Sally climbed into the truck anyway. She looked the crystal over, running her fingers along the carving, then she sat down crosslegged in the clear space near the doors. Pressing her hands together, she touched her index fingers to her forehead and closed her eyes. After a moment she lowered her hands to her lap. She stayed that way for long minutes.

The guys began to fidget, shifting around and speaking in low tones. Ghost just leaned against one of the doors, watching Neko watch Sally. At last Sally came out of her trance and shakily started to stand up. Ghost was beside her in a flash, catching her before she could lose her balance. She looked drained, and the smile she gave Kham was a faint reflection of her earlier one. "You weren't kidding when you said you had hot magic, Kham. Do you have any idea what this is?"

"It's got someting to do with da way elves live a long time and stay looking like dey ain't never gonna grow up." He told her about the run into the Salish and the double-cross by Glasgian. He almost told her

about Dodger, but held that back, using Laverty as his example of a long-lived elf.

"Oh, yeah," Sally said, turning thoughtful eyes back to the crystal. She was quiet for some time. "It's powerful, all right. Maybe even powerful enough to be some kind of eternity magic, but there's something else about it."

"What?"

"I can't get hold of the spells; they're different somehow from what I know. Primitive, but powerful."

"Then you cannot tell how to use this power, either," Scatter said vindictively. "You have no reason to scoff at me."

Sally's response had none of the flip arrogance of her earlier banter with the shaman. "I'll argue about reason to scoff, but I'll also admit that I can't tell how this thing does whatever it is it does."

"Could ya figure it out?"

"Maybe. Given time, but that isn't something I've got right now. Besides, this poking-prying stuff has never been my long suit."

"Ha!" Scatter crowed triumphantly. "I told you she was worthless, Kham. I will unravel the crystal's secrets for you. We shall share those secrets together."

Sally gave the shaman a harsh look, then turned back to Kham. Her face was serious. "I'd sell it before I trusted her, Kham."

"Sell it?" Kham hadn't thought of that. "Ta who?"

"The highest bidder. Cog could handle it. A piece like that should fetch a fine price on the open market, and selling it has the added benefit of getting you out of the loop with this elf and the owner of the truck. They'll leave you alone if you get rid of this thing."

"What if da bad guys buy it back?"

Sally shrugged. "Then soothe your conscience with the money. You'll live, and you'll live rich."

"You must not sell the crystal," Scatter insisted. "And why not?" Sally asked. Scatter scurried forward and pointed an accusing finger into her face. "You mages have no souls! You don't understand the true nature of the world! This crystal has a spirit, as do all things. Selling it for gain would pollute that spirit. It is your kind that is corrupting the magic. Defilers! Defilers, all! Now you would defile this mystery just because you do not understand it."

"What drek!" Sally batted away the shaman's hand, and Scatter retreated a step. Sally turned her back on the woman. "Kham, you'll only get yourself more trouble if you're going to listen to this pile of rags. You've been a good chummer. We've had a lot a fun, had a lot of good runs. But this is something I don't want a piece of. You keep it, and all I can do is wish you luck. Dump it and come up cool, then we can do biz. You know the number."

Sally started to walk away, and the orks parted to let her go. Kham couldn't think of anything to say. Sally had been his hope of unraveling this magic. Without her, how could he do that?

"Do not stay too long in one place," Ghost advised as he turned to follow Sally down the street. Dumbfounded, Kham watched them go. Neko herded the other runners back into the truck, then tugged at Kham's arm. Reluctantly, Kham climbed in and watched the catboy swing the doors closed. They rolled.

Kham had always valued Sally's advice. She'd said this stolen crystal was powerful. He knew it had to be, if it could do what he thought it could. Still, she didn't want any part of it, and that puzzled him. This magic could help norms as well as orks. More than once he'd heard her complain that she was getting too old for running. He had the answer to that sitting in this truck with him, but she didn't want a part of it. What did she know that he didn't?

She said to sell it. She said they could get a lot of nuyen for it. Well, selling it would get him out of his financial problems, and it would go a long way toward settling the score with that fragging elf Glasgian. If Glasgian didn't end up as the buyer, that is. But maybe even then, especially if Scatter was right that selling the crystal would mess up its magic.

But using that magic… what that might do! He would never be old, never worn out and wrecked like his mother. Lissa would never grow old either. And the kids. They would no longer be condemned to an ork's short life. They'd have a chance to learn and do and be. All he had to do was unlock the crystal's secret.

But how?

He didn't know what to do.

"Hey, Kham. One thing you can't do is sell these wheels to Zasshu."

The raw eagerness in Rabo's voice brought Kham out of his funk. "Why's dat?"

"They're too, too sweet. That halfer wouldn't appreciate even half of what this baby has got in her, real cutting edge once you look under the hood. I'll bet half the circuits are prime Miltron. Gotta be, with what this baby's packing. Sure ain't Ares tech. Ain't no ID's on the boards, but this rig has gotta be Miltron make. The mesh is just too smooth to be a slapdash. But that halfer just ain't got appreciation; he'd probably break her up for parts."

"Safer that way," The Weeze pointed out. "You ain't got no soul, Weezer. This beauty deserves better than that."

"My butt says otherwise. This bucket could use better shocks," Ratstomper complained.

Rabo laughed her off. "You're just pissy 'cause you been sitting too long. The ride's fine up here."

But riding was something they couldn't do forever. "Don't get too comfortable up dere, Rabo. We gotta dump dis heap soon as da stone is safe."

"Aw, Kham, you don't understand what you're giving up. This baby's got armor, weapons, and lots of wrinkles I still ain't had time to figure out yet. Give me a week or two and I'll have her humming to my tune. You'll see. We got us a real street chariot here. Lone Star's Citymasters ain't gonna be a problem anymore."

The rigger's enthusiasm got old quickly. Couldn't Rabo see the problems that keeping the hijacked truck would cause? Kham decided to point out the most obvious of them. "Rabo, ya wanna be around when dose metal guys come ta repossess dis ting?"

"Who says they're gonna?" Rabo was uncowed. "They were rockin' and rollin' with the Andies last we seen them, and with no way 'a gettin' outta there without wheels or wings. We got their wheels, right? And they didn't have any wings."

"What if they did?" Ryan asked. "They were tough bastards."

"Drek, yeah," The Weeze agreed. "You see the way that one kept fighting even with his leg out? Howled like a gutted cat when that wage mage tried to fry him, but he was hosing down Andies soon as the light faded. Sure as flux leaves ya dripping drek. I wouldn't want to square orf with one of those guys."

"Ain't gonna have to," Rabo insisted. "I'm telling you they're history. This baby's ours now."

Ryan's face twisted into a worried grimace. "How can you be sure they don't have friends? We don't know who they were working for.''

"Yeah," Ratstomper echoed. Kham was beginning to think the two of them had become a team. "You don't think they was working for that other elf, do ya, Kham?"

"Drek! What you got for eyes, Stomper?" Rabo asked. "They weren't elves. Under all that chrome they were breeders."

"Go frag yourself, drekhead," Ratstomper snapped back. "Just 'cause they're breeders don't mean they weren't working for an elf. Ain't we worked for daisy-eaters ourselves? And we sure ain't no pointy-eared, flouncy elves."

That got the guys laughing, even Rabo. When things quieted down. The Weeze said, "You know, Stomper might be right. Maybe those two elves who went with us to the Salish had a falling out. Maybe we just got caught in the middle of a family spat."

"I don't think those cyberguys were working for an elf," Neko said quietly.

All the ork eyes in the back of the truck turned to him, including Kham's, who wanted to know how Neko had reached that conclusion. "Why not, cat-boy?"

"They didn't operate with any magic."

"No," Scatter said definitively. "They had no magic."

"Good point. Elves love dat stuff. Running a team witout it just ain't dere style. At least not fer Tir elves."

Ryan wasn't buying it. "So who says the ones after us was Tir elves?''

"One of 'em was," The Weeze said. "That Glas-gian twerp."

"Maybe so," Ryan agreed reluctantly. "But the cat-boy said the other was Australian. / don't know how Aussie elves operate. Do you, wisearse?"

"If Urdli had wanted the crystal, he would have taken it himself," Neko asserted.

His tone was confident and the others nodded in agreement, but Kham found himself wondering. How could Neko be so sure? As Kham recalled, he had first heard Neko identify the Dark One as Urdli to Dodger, who had not batted an eye, like they both knew what the catboy was talking about. Neko hadn't told Kham or the guys anything more than that the elf was an Australian, but the catboy obviously knew more about the dark-skinned elf. The catboy liked his secrets too much to be a real chummer. That was fine by Kham unless those secrets might be important to their survival. But was this the best time to try to pry them out? Before Kham could frame his question, The Weeze was asking one of her own.

"Well, if it ain't a spat between Mister Dark and Mister Light, why were those heavy metalboys after the rock?"

"The conclusion is obvious. Someone else knows about the crystal," Neko replied.

"Another elf?" Ryan asked tremulously. "What's with you? You got elves on the brain," Rabo said. "There's a lot more folks out there working angles besides elves."

Holding on to his idea, Ryan whined, "But how would anybody else know about the elf eternity magic?"

"We know," Kham pointed out. "So who do you think it is?" Ryan asked, turning on him. "Rabo said this rig was Miltron hardware.

Those are some scary boys. I don't want to frag with that corp."

"Now, I didn't say it was for sure Miltron," Rabo protested.

"But it could be," Ryan insisted. "They make mil-spec stuff. Drek, maybe they made those cyberguys. If they did, they could make more. Drek, we're gonna get hosed.''

"Calm down," Neko suggested. "Panic will not do us any good at all."

"Somebody's got to worry about it," Ryan said.

"We're all worried," Neko said quietly. "We're just not panicking."

Ryan cast frantic looks around the enclosed space. The other orks were almost as calm as the catboy. The kid looked to his shaman, but Scatter was absorbed in the crystal. Ryan turned to Kham. "What do you think, Kham. Is it Miltron?"

Kham shook his head. "Dunno."

"Well, what are we going to do?" The young ork looked about ready to freak, but Kham didn't have the answers to satisfy him. If Ryan couldn't handle not knowing who was out there looking for them, he wasn't cut out for shadowrunning. Best to find that out now, before the kid lost it during a run.

Ryan stared at him, chewing his lip. He fidgeted for a while, then said, "Harry would know what to do."

"Harry hates magic." Ratstomper turned to Scatter. "Present company excepted."

"Not excepted. Harry tolerates my presence because he understands my importance, not because he likes me or my magic. You are right, Ratstomper; Harry hates magic. He would not welcome you bringing this to him, but that does not mean we should not take the crystal to the Underground. We will be safer in the Underground. And perhaps Harry will have a solution to the problem Certainly he has survived where younger, more stubborn orks have perished ''

Kham knew the dig was meant to undermine him in front of the others, something he couldn't allow He whipped out an arm, caught a handful of Scatter's rags, and dragged her from her seat Of necessity, she collapsed to her knees in front of him "Dis ain't Harry's run," he growled "Now, I know ya got good ears, ratface And I know ya already heard me, but I'm gonna say it one more time anyway We ain't taking da rock back ta da Underground It's too dangerous " He let go and the rat shaman scrambled back to her seat They rode in silence for several minutes, Kham aware of the glances shooting back and forth among the orks He was also aware that the catboy avoided eye contact with any of them The Weeze was the first to break the silence

"Can't nde around forever, either " Neko stretched, drawing attention to himself "So we find a place to rest where we can hide the truck '' "Where9" Ratstomper slapped the bench seat "We been riding around for hours and nobody's come up with anything "

"Kham, you know that I am not familiar with Seattle's shadow world, but when I was conversing with Cog, he suggested that Mickey's Garage on Welbourne was a congenial establishment "

"No good," Rabo said "Mickey was hit by the Azzies the other night " "What9 When9"

' 'While we were humping our butts around the An-die dump "

"How da hell d'ya know dat?" Kham snapped

Rabo chuckled "I told you this baby was a sweetie. Her 'puter's got a little program that swipes realtime updates from Shadowland Headline News But, you know, I been thinking about it, and I remembered an abandoned warehouse out near the reservoir in Puy-allup. The scuzboys from Forever Tacoma been using it for tumbles with the Black Rains. It's nice and quiet when the boys and girls ain't playing."

Ratstomper guffawed. "Real sudden interest in finding a place to park, Rabo. Could it be your butt's been planted too long, too?"

"Maybe I just got sympathy for the weak-minded."

Ratstomper started to retort, but Kham cut her off.

"Anybody got outstanding problems wit da Eff-Tees or da Rains?" Nobody admitted to any, so Kham told Rabo, "All right, den, dat's where we're going."

Traffic made the trip long, though they encountered no trouble along the way. The Erf-Tees were in residence when they pulled up, so they had to negotiate. The big troll that was the gang's warlord took one look at Scatter and demanded she do some magic for them as the price of dossing down in the warehouse. "I will do this for you," Scatter said to Kham, clearly implying the need for repayment. She disappeared with the gangers for an hour or so, then came back grinning with self-satisfaction and bearing an armload of bags from the local Voodoo Chili franchise. Kham was too tired to care.

He shoveled in the stuff along with the rest of the guys, and watched them drop off one by one. The Eff-Tees were standing watch as part of the deal. Not the best security, but they'd do because nobody knew Kham and the guys were here. Before long, he too drifted off in a troubled sleep.

Some time later, he awoke. Something, a noise that didn't belong in the warehouse, had nudged him out of his dark dreams. Whatever he'd heard had stopped, but there were strange scents in the building. Befuddled by sleep, Kham couldn't place the vaguely familiar scents. Wary, he reached for his AK. Better armed than sorry.

A foot descended on his wrist, grinding it to the floor. The pain forced a snarl from him and he twisted over onto his side, but the effort only brought more pain as something swiped him across the temple. He fell back, the darkness lighting up with stars that weren't there. When he could focus again, Kham found himself staring at metal-armored legs. He looked up, a long, long way to the open maw of a tribarrel and further on to the tiny chrome-plated head beyond it. It was one of the metal guys. He'd seen their strength and knew that struggling wouldn't get him anywhere. He watched helplessly as a second metal man removed the AK. Once the weapon was out of Kham's reach, the first released him, gesturing for Kham to stand up.

There were only two of the cyberguys this time, but that was two too many, because once again they had the drop on Kham and the guys. In a matter of minutes all of them were clumped together under the metal men's guns. Kham noticed that the cyberguys kept most of their attention on Scatter, but he doubted the rough boys would have anything to worry about from the cringing rat shaman. He also didn't believe that the cyberguys' preoccupation would offer even a halfway decent chance to make a break. There was nothing to do but wait.

While one of their chrome-plated captors kept watch, the other went over to the control box on the front wall and opened one of the bay doors. A few seconds later a long silver limousine rolled in, followed by a trio of dark vans. Two of the four vehicles had to bump over the bay boundaries into the next one in order to fit; their companion vehicles and the orks' truck pretty much filled the first bay.

None of the vehicles carried any insignia, but the cleanliness and uniformity screamed corporate. The men and women who climbed out of the vans were as corporate as their vehicles: all wore identical, unmarked coveralls and flak vests and all carried identical weapons. As if those overchromed rough boys needed more goons as back-up. Kham gave his attention to the limo; that was where his future lay. The big shot inside would decide.

The car had halted with its front bumper nearly touching the gathered orks. Its interior was unknowable behind polarized glass. After a moment, however, its rear doors opened to reveal a dapper norm getting out from the near side. Kham had never seen this suit before, but there was no mistaking the uptown finery and the air of habitual and utter authority that clung to him. The suit smiled pleasantly at him, but Kham wasn't in the mood to smile back. He was looking at the guy getting out the car's other side, somebody who Kham suddenly realized wasn't lined up with the rest of his runners like he should have been. It was Neko the catboy, and still armed.

"Sticking wit your own, catboy?" Kham asked. Ratstomper growled in accompaniment to the question.

The suit answered before the catboy could open his mouth. "I suggest that you refrain from admonishing Mr. Noguchi. Your anger is misplaced. He is not my own, Kham. Pardon me if you find it overly familiar of me to address you by name without formal introduction, but you have done so much to aid my enterprise that I feel we should be friends. My name is Enterich, by the way."

"Mr. Enterich sponsored my trip here," Neko said.

"Ya been working for him, huh? Shoulda known no breeder would be a real chummer. Just biz, huh? That why ya led 'em ta us."

"I didn't-"

"Please do not view Mr. Noguchi as a Judas, Kham," Enterich said smoothly. "Though it is true that in pursuit of my principal's interests I arranged for his transport to this continent and saw that he was chosen for Glasgian and Urdli's run out to the Salish lands, I did not set him as a trap for you. Mr. Noguchi was placed as part of an insurance policy which, unfortunately, was necessary. Your involvement was, shall we say, unanticipated. Had not a certain impetuous personage sought to hide his deeds completely, you would have gone quietly on with your life without ever knowing that Mr. Noguchi and I had done business. As it was, our interests ran parallel for a time, but that time is over. Now it is time for our ways to part."

"So now ya take us out of da way." Enterich raised his eyebrows. "Why would you think that? You have been more help than hindrance."

"Too bad."

Frowning, Enterich said, "Kham, I don't believe that you like me."

Bright boy. Kham spat onto the concrete floor. "Don't like elves dat hide dere faces."

Enterich's frown vanished, replaced by a faint, patronizing smile. His gold incisors sparkled. "An elf? Oh no, I'm not an elf."

"Didn't say ya were. Work fer one dough, doncha? Dat Aussie elf.''

"Urdli? Hardly. If you knew Urdli as I do, you would know that he would never countenance working with me." All right, so it wasn't the other elf. The catboy had really known what he was talking about when he said that somebody else knew about the rock. "Den who'dya work for? Miltron?"

"Still guessing? You should be careful about that. Someone might think you've been looking too deeply into the toys you've had on loan. Much as I like you, Kham, it would be unwise to tell you. You might find such knowledge unhealthy. A family man like you has to think about the future."

As if their situation wasn't unhealthy already. Enterich's rough boys had been willing to kill Kham and his guys merely for endangering their mission. Talk was the biggest danger to secrets-and it was clear that Enterich had plenty of those, and wanted to keep this crystal business as one of them. Dead men don't tell no tales; neither do dead orks. "Don't look like me and da guys got much of a future."

"You misunderstand. Your escapade with the truck was annoying, especially since the transport was a valuable asset, but it has also had some benefits. Even now the young elven prince is looking in all the wrong places, searching for you and ignoring my operatives. It is a minor advantage, but one that has already proved useful, and so you have my gratitude. In return, I would like to assure you that if you bow out now, peacefully, I will not hold your earlier interference against you and your friends. As one who abhors unnecessary violence, I will even go so far as to ensure that the hellions will never bother you again." "The what?"

"Ah, yes. You would not know." Smiling, Enterich indicated the metal men with a wave of his hand. "These gentlemen are hellions. Wondrous artifacts of technology, are they not? Elite volunteers-trained to perfection, heavily modified with state-of-the-art cy-berware, then, of course, trained some more. Freed from most of the constraints of the flesh, they are tireless, swift, and powerful. The ultimate blend of man and machine, near-perfect soldiers. I have great hopes for them, once the bugs are worked out of the system. The mechanical components confer a remarkable resistance to magic, but the necessarily limited organic component is sometimes prone to irrationality. But we have safeguards for that.

"You must excuse me, I tend to wax overly enthusiastic over new baubles. I'm sure my problems with new technologies are of no interest to you."

Enterich sketched a little bow, as if in apology. Meanwhile, one of his corporate goons had left the group checking out the hijacked truck and had come over to hand Enterich a slim silver chip-holder that she said was from the computer aboard the truck. Enterich gazed thoughtfully at the thing for a moment, then turned back to Kham.

"Ah, you see. You have been even more helpful than I had originally realized. I am sure I will find these files your decker-Chigger, wasn't it? — removed from the Andalusian matrix to be of interest. However, at the moment I have other matters to attend to and wish to conclude our business. Do I have your word that you will drop all interest in what the truck carries?"

Thoughts of what he'd be giving up raced through Kham's brain. There was nothing he could do about it right now. "If I don't give ya my word?"

"That would be unfortunate. For you. As I was saying, the hellions lost their companion in the Andalusian raid. As they blame you and your runners for the death of their comrade in arms, I fear that they would like to pay you and yours back in kind."

"We didn't do nuttin' ta get dere chummer geeked."

"They believe your complicity sufficient, and wish to make a response. Their small minds are filled with loyalty to their friends; misguided loyalty at times, but strong nonetheless. The streak of irrationality, I suppose."

Kham knew a threat when he heard one. And the fact that the catboy knew where his family was hiding meant that Enterich probably did, too. "Don't see anyway ta stop ya."

"A wise conclusion." Enterich held out one hand. "I do not wish us to part enemies, Kham."

Kham merely stared into the suit's face until the man dropped his hand. The Weeze muffled a snort.

"Very well," Enterich said, taking a credstick from his pocket and holding it out. "A business arrangement, then?"

Kham ignored that, too.

Uttering a soft sigh, Enterich dropped the credstick. It clinked and clattered on the hard floor.

"There is a small compensation there, along with a number you can contact if Glasgian continues to annoy you or any of your runners. Like you, I do not wish to see him prosper." Enterich returned to his limo and climbed in. One hand on the door handle, he seemed to have another thought. "You may believe that I have cheated you in this, but it is not so. The crystal is not precisely what you believe it to be, and though I cannot expect that you will take my word for it, you would be wise to do so. The crystal is not for you, or your kind, and you would do well to forget its existence. That would please me, and you would find that my good will can be helpful."

How could Kham forget the crystal, especially in trade for nebulous promises of nonexistent corporate good will? No matter. He knew better than to reveal his evaluation of the worth of Enterich's compensation. "Maybe I will."

"If you do not, I think that my principal will be less lenient than I have been." The suit shut the door and the limo started up. A

squad of the uniformed goons boarded the truck, while the rest of them scurried back to their vans. All but one of the vans pulled out with the limo and the truck. The hellions waited, covering the departure of their boss. Then they too took off in the last van, the sound of the vehicle's engine echoing hollowly off the warehouse walls.

Once the hellions were gone, the orks were free to recover their weapons. Most of them did so at once, but Ratstomper turned to Neko instead.

"Your suit friend didn't say we couldn't take our frustrations out on you."

Heedless of his weapon, she charged the catboy. Fortunately for her, he didn't use it. He sidestepped, his hands touching her briefly and sending her crashing into one of the beams. Moaning, Ratstomper collapsed to the floor. The rest of the gang wasn't so reckless. Once they were armed, they spread out and surrounded the catboy. Kham's regulars were careful to keep out of each other's line of fire, but Kham had to adjust his own position to avoid hitting Ryan, who wasn't too bright. He knew he wouldn't hit the kid if he fired, but he couldn't count on Ryan being as good a shot.

The catboy was cool about it, not making any sudden moves. Kham almost wished that Neko would try to use his SCK. The submachine gun was perfect for such close quarters, even better than Kham's skeletal-stocked AK, but the catboy was too smart to try to shoot it out against so many guns. Or maybe too stupid; the guys would make a point of taking their time if they killed him with their bare hands.

"I did not betray you," Neko protested. "It was the truck."

"Trucks don't talk," Kham said.

"That one did. Enterich said it had a homing device."

Kham had to concede the possibility. But a homing device in the truck was one thing, the catboy's cozi-ness with the suit was another. "What about it, Rabo? Ya find any squealers on dat rig?''

"Naw."

"Gonna hafta do better, catboy."

Behind Neko, Ratstomper pulled herself to her feet. Taking in the circle around the catboy, she bared her tusks in a smile. Then she pulled thirty centimeters of steel from the sheath at her hip, and tested the edge with her thumb. Kham had seen her use that knife with great precision in the past.

The catboy cocked his head slightly as she approached; Neko knew she was there, but he didn't move. She slashed with the knife, cutting the strap on I his weapon and slicing through the outer layer of his windbreaker. Kham recognized the sound of steel slithering along ballistic armor-weave. The SCK clattered to the floor. ^

"You are making a mistake," Neko insisted. f

"You're the one made a mistake," Ryan said.*

"We're gonna see just how many ways there are to skin a catboy.'' Ratstomper chuckled evilly and flourished her knife.

Everyone held still for a moment. Then Neko spun and the knife went whirling away, nearly skewering The Weeze. The little Jap was crawling all over Ratstomper. The two of them went down, the ork squalling. Kham cursed and put up his AK; there was no clear shot while the two of them were tangled. He stepped in, ready to club the catboy with his weapon's butt.

The warehouse suddenly lit with a harsh flare of light and everyone, even the two combatants, froze. A mocking laugh drifted down to them from the catwalk servicing the overhead crane.

"My, my, my, squabbles among thieves. And I'd heard that shadowrunners were supposed to have more honor than common backstreet burglars."

His long coat emphasizing his height and lean angularity, Prince Glasgian Oakforest glared down at them. Rabo spun and lifted his weapon, but a flash of fire from Glasgian's hand struck the rigger's assault rifle, and he dropped it with a yelp. The weapon fell to the floor, glowing cherry red. Rabo jumped back in time to avoid the explosion as the ammunition cooked off. A fragment cut through Kham's pants leg and scored his thigh. He hissed at the pain, but held his ground; the wound was only minor. It didn't look like anybody else had caught any of the shrapnel.

"I have no time for your foolishness," Glasgian shouted down to them. "Where is my property?" "Ain't got nuttin' dats yers," Kham told him. Glasgian smiled wickedly. "Then you won't mind if I verify that."

"Look around all ya wan-" Pain exploded in white-hot incandescence in Kham's head. Fiery fingers poked searing furrows through his brain as fragmented images of the hijacked truck, the crystal, and Enterich chased each other across the inside of his eyelids. He thought he screamed before the darkness overwhelmed him.

When he came to, he was flat on his back on the concrete, his head aching worse than it had after his last tumble at Grabber's place. Overhead, the elf was still there. A shuriken glinted dully in the wood of the catwalk and the elf clutched the side of his body, a trickle of blood leaking through his fingers. Glasgian was staring at something to Kham's left and holding one hand outstretched.

Wincing with the pain caused by the movement, Kham rolled his head around to see what the elf was focused on. The catboy was a foot off the ground, his hands beating at some invisible opponent. Neko was turning purple as if someone were strangling him.

The elf made a contemptuous, throw-away gesture and Neko dropped to the floor in a heap. Kham couldn't tell whether the catboy was still breathing or not.

"I thought it was dogs you lesser types took to be loyal, not cats." The elf looked down imperiously at the orks. "Enterich must not be allowed to keep the crystal. Though he is not long since departed, there is no time to gather forces. You will help me recover the crystal."

"You're fragging crazy," The Weeze said.

"Incompetents! You don't know what you have done!" The elf raised his head and growled his rage at the rafters. "Have you any idea of what you have been dealing with?"

Nobody answered him.

"How could I expect you to? The chain was long, and even / had a difficult time following it to its end. He was very clever, using subordinates with other connections. I first thought that I was being thwarted by my erstwhile colleague, but I should have known better. That Australian fossil would never move so quickly. Once we had dissected that cybernetic monstrosity he had created, I knew Miltron was behind the harassment. I had but to look for the company's sponsors, and there among the minor shareholders, hiding behind a facade of other firms, I found him coiled in ambush. I should have known that Miltron would have less savory sponsors than foggy-headed old men whose time had passed. Finding Enterich involved here converts suspicion to certainty."

"So those goons were Miltron," Rabo mumbled. "Miltron?" Glasgian snorted. "Of course they were Miltron. Miltron is but one of his many fronts, trog. Another puppet for the secret master. The Enterich with whom you spoke is an agent of Saeder-Krupp, ultimate master of the puppet Miltron.'' The elf shook his head in false pity. "You still don't understand, do you?"

Provoked to anger himself, Kham snapped, "Since we're so stupid, why doncha just tell us den?"

The elf glared at him and spoke slowly, enunciating each word as if speaking to an ignorant child. "Saeder-Krupp belongs to the dragon Lofwyr."

Kham felt a chill run down his spine. Drek! A dragon. No wonder this whole mess was so effing screwed up.

Glasgian slammed his fist against the railing. "And you have given him what he wanted. All that comes from this shall be on your heads." "Wasn't us dat dug da ting up." "Do not try to displace the blame for this fiasco onto me. Had you all died when you were supposed to, none of this would have happened. You are responsible for the crystal falling into his hands. You must take the responsibility for that hideous mistake. "He cannot be allowed to control the crystal. Even you must know that. We cannot leave that magic to a dragon. You must help me recover the crystal."

Much as he hated to think it, Kham knew the fragging elf was right. Dragons never did anything straight, and Lofwyr, the dragon that had gone corporate, was known everywhere as a devious old worm. What would Lofwyr do with the magic of the crystal? Sure as hell wouldn't be anything to help orks. Kham didn't want to help this elf bastard, but neither would he be able to live with himself if he was responsible for letting the dragon bury-or worse, warp-the magic of the crystal.

Glasgian had a Hughes Airstar waiting on the roof for transport. Most of the passenger seats had been removed, rather sloppily, and a padded cradle installed in their place, no doubt to carry the crystal the elf wanted so desperately. There were enough seats for all of them, especially now that Scatter had disappeared. Kham didn't like the rat shaman, but he thought it unwise to make any noise over her disappearance. There remained a small possibility that she was hiding, staying undercover to back them up. He didn't think it likely, but he found himself hoping it was so. They had put themselves into the elf's hands in order to snatch the crystal back from the dragon. That done, the elf would want the stone for himself and Kham and the guys would very likely be in need of a rescue. Realistically, the cowardly shaman had probably noticed the arrival of the elf-or possibly even Enterich's crew, since he hadn't seen her when the Miltron goons rounded everybody up-and hightailed it for home.

The elf had high confidence in his abilities. The absence of a support crew was proof of that; he had come for Kham and the guys alone, even though the Airstar was big enough for a squad of goons. When Glasgian installed Rabo in the cockpit, Kham saw enough of the control panel to know the Airstar was well-armed despite its smooth, docile outer appearance. Sort of like your typical elf, he thought.

Knowing that Rabo could handle a chopper's armament, he was glad the Airstar was equipped for combat. Sure, they had their own weapons and Glasgian had implied that heavier stuff was available if needed, but they were going up against the hellions and the rest of the dragon's goons. They'd need really serious fire support. The elf's spells could provide that; Glasgian had implied that his magic was more than enough for the job at hand. But even if the elf was as tough as he thought, Kham had serious doubts about their chances of success should the dragon himself put in an appearance. Dragons were just plain bad for biz.

The elf sat up front with Rabo, leaving the buckets in the main bay to Kham, Neko, Ratstomper, and The Weeze. Glasgian also left the bulkhead door open, so that he could keep an eye on them. By the same token the open passageway let Kham listen to the radio traffic. He supposed that he shouldn't have been surprised when Glasgian told Rabo not to bother calling in to Seattle Air Traffic Control. This Airstar almost certainly had Tir Tairngire Council registry. That kind of clout would let them fly the Seattle sky with impunity.

The wasted reaches of the Puyallup Barrens were a snarl of streets, rubble, abandoned buildings, and stalled urban renewal. Since the Eff-Tee's playhouse was just about in the middle of the main disaster zone, Enterich's crew would still be working their way through the maze no matter where they were headed. The Airstar might occasionally have to detour around a block of tall buildings or some corporate industrial enclave, but it could make far better time than ground vehicles confined to what passed for roads. And if they didn't catch the dragon's goons before they left the Barrens, the helicopter still gave them an advantage: air traffic didn't get as congested as that on the ground. They'd catch up with the truck and its escort, if they could find them.

For the first few minutes they circled the warehouse, then, following Glasgian's vague directions, Rabo sent the bird hurtling through the evening sky. They changed course a few times, but they certainly weren't flying a random search pattern. Kham suspected that the elf was using some kind of magic to track the stone.

During a period when the elf was clearly hard at work figuring the direction, the video screen in the bulkhead between the cockpit and the cabin flickered to life. The image that appeared turned out to be a bird's-eye perspective of the ground below from a camera located in the nose, to judge by the antennae and probes projecting into the bottom of the frame. Tiny white letters scrolled across the lower screen. "Thought you might like a view." Kham smiled a little. Rabo was working his way through the controls. The rigger was not stupid and if he could find a way to make the chopper work for them, he would. That could give them an edge against Enterich's crew-or the elf.

They flew for almost half an hour, the elf's directions coming closer and closer together. Kham was caught off-guard when Rabo suddenly decelerated hard and banked the Airstar. The maneuver tossed the passengers around and Ryan actually got dumped on the deck. When they straightened out into a hover, Rabo apologized and, over the complaints, announced that they had found the caravan.

Kham hadn't seen it on the screen, but he did when Rabo brought the chopper around a tall building and hovered over a street leading to a main thoroughfare. One by one, the vehicles he had seen in the warehouse passed through the intersection. All except the limo. In the lead was the armored truck with the crystal, the other Miltron vans following at varying distances. Had they gotten into their spotting position too late to see Enterich's limousine pass through the intersection or had the suit taken another route?

Enterich might not actually be part of the convoy; he'd said he had other business. Maybe he'd gone elsewhere to attend to it. Kham hoped so. Though he hadn't noticed any weapon on the suit, the man had given off an indefinable aura of danger. Even if Enterich wasn't personally armed, Kham couldn't believe that his car was not. If Enterich was really elsewhere, the tactical situation was better, improved by the absence of one of the opponent's maneuver elements. There was one less angle to watch.

Kham heaved himself up and leaned into the cockpit. "All right, elf. We found 'em before dey got home, like ya wanted. Now what? Dey're on a busy street."

"Now you will see how easy this will be. First, an illusion, a fantasy of ordinariness to lull our real prey. It will be the first step in isolating them from their protectors."

For several minutes, the elf stared avidly out the cockpit windscreen while the Airstar crept after the caravan on silenced rotors. Kham had seen similar looks of concentration on Sally Tsung's face when she was doing magic, but he didn't see anything happening. He even checked the video monitor to see if the machine was picking up something his eyes were missing.

"Don't see nuttin'. How ya gonna keep dem hellions off our back?''

Glasgian sneered. "The spell is only the first step, brute. It will require another to cut them from the herd. Now return to your seat and let me concentrate."

Kham did as he was told; but he did it slowly, trying to make it look like it was his idea, in case the guys hadn't heard the elf. Rabo had heard, but he was okay; they'd done enough biz together to know that sometimes you had to let the other guy think he was in charge. Usually when the other guy was in charge.

About the time Kham took his seat, the last of the vans swerved a little, brake lights flashing on. For a moment, Kham thought the driver had tried to avoid crashing into a vehicle that had cut him off, but there was nothing there, just normal traffic-and more and more space opening up between the van and the rest of his convoy. Kham could imagine the van's horn blaring and the driver cursing. Anyone with a dragon for a boss would not welcome a disruption of his schedule. The van accelerated, quickly reaching its previous traveling speed, then exceeding it. Perhaps the driver thought his companions in the truck were accelerating as well. Whatever the case, the van was soon exceeding the safe speed for the traffic flow, weaving in and out of the traffic, passing the other vans. Suddenly, the driver cut to his right, directly into the space between the lead van and the armored truck. The chopper was sound-proofed too well for Kham to hear the sounds of the crash, but he saw it all too clearly. The swerving vehicle was rammed by its companion, and its side crumpled. The other bounced off, its rear end skewing around and bashing into another car. Beneath the Airstar the street turned into a sea of red lights and sparking flashes from colliding vehicles. In moments, the avenue was hopelessly snarled. All three of the vans were involved.

Half a block ahead, and increasing the distance all the time, the armored truck drove on. Glasgian tapped Rabo on the arm, then pointed. The Airstar tilted forward and flew after the departing vehicle.

The Weeze was watching the video screen as avidly as Kham. "Drek, those goons ain't even looking back. Didn't they hear the crash?"

Glasgian leaned around to look into the cabin, an expression of superiority on his face. "They see only what I intend them to see and hear only what I wish them to hear, which is normal traffic and their companions following faithfully." Glasgian sounded very satisfied with himself. "Soon they will see the turns I wish them to make as the only ones open to them, and when the time is right, they will see nothing at all." Gradually the truck moved away from the main arteries, out of the evening traffic. They followed, crossing out of the downtown district and back into Tacoma. Kham guessed that Glasgian was herding the driver of the truck toward the Andalusian compound. Not a real bright move; Enterich was likely watching the place and might have reinforcements on hand. But the elf wasn't as foolish as Kham feared; the truck was still well away from the compound when he struck.

The truck began to drift, as though the driver had dozed off, which maybe he had. A car in the oncoming lane bumped up onto the curb to avoid the wandering truck, narrowly avoiding a collision. That driver escaped, but Enterich's people were less lucky. Wandering back to the other side of the road, the truck made it to the next intersection before drifting further and careening into the curb. The force of the strike was enough to send the vehicle over to one side so that when it hit a parked car, it rode up and over, overbalancing. The side of the truck smashed down onto the pavement and the vehicle skidded along, gravel and sparks flying, until it slammed into a light post. The light flickered and died, dropping that section of the road into gloom.

At Glasgian's frantic urgings, Rabo brought the chopper down to a quick and bumpy landing in a nearby rubble-strewn lot. Glasgian slid open the Air-star's main door and jumped out, calling for the orks to follow him. Kham thought about using the opportunity to take care of the elf, but even after all Glasgian had done, Kham couldn't bring himself to shoot the bastard in the back. Besides, they might need him if the dragon showed. Or sooner; some of Enterich's goons had survived the crash and were groggily hauling themselves out of the wreckage.

One of the survivors pulled a pistol and fired at the charging elf. Her aim wasn't too good, but her shot had effect anyway. The bullet took Ryan in the gut as he stepped out of the Airstar. The stupid kid had opened up his armor vest for the chopper ride and hadn't sealed it before debarking. He sat down hard and looked stupidly at his bleeding gut. The catboy took a round, too, and tumbled backward, blood-lessly; his armor saved him.

Ratstomper screamed and opened up on full auto, nearly nailing Glasgian. The elf dove to one side, taking cover in a doorway. Things got confused real quick, as another goon started firing and the orks shot back. It was short and sharp, and the outcome wasn't any real surprise. The goons were still rattled from the crash, and Kham, Rabo, and The Weeze had done this sort of thing plenty of times before. They moved smoothly, spreading out and keeping up a good volume of fire. Even with Ratstomper mostly wasting scenery, the firefight went thirty seconds, max. before it was all over. There were no more survivors of the wreck.

Ratstomper ran to Ryan as soon as she could, dragged him off the street, and leaned him up against an abandoned car. The rest of the guys gathered around. The kid was their only serious casualty. Not bad, considering the open area in which the firefight had taken place, but not good enough for Kham.

"Rabo," he bawled. "Bring the first aid kit from the chopper.''

The rigger was fast, but that didn't matter; the kid's wounds were too serious. Kham could see that even though they had done all they could for him, it was not enough. The orks gathered around, watching helplessly as the life bled out of their comrade. With Ryan already unconscious, Kham was spared having to decide whether or not to end the kid's pain. He knew what most of his guys wanted in a situation like this, but there had never been time to ask the kid.

A triumphant laugh sounded from the direction of the overturned truck. Glasgian's laugh. Kham turned to look and saw brilliant rays of emerald light leaking from the sprung doors. The light grew in intensity, and Kham had a sudden suspicion. "Cover!" he yelled.

The guys ducked low, trusting his reaction. He hoped the bulk of the abandoned car would shield them. He also hoped he was being overly cautious and would look stupid soon. It was not to be.

With a rending shriek the armor panels of the truck bulged and burst apart like an overstretched balloon. Angry hornets of metal buzzed through the air, spang-ing off everything in a thirty-meter radius. Glasgian, standing on the padded collar and clinging to the crystal still strapped into that collar, rose from the ruins of the truck. He glowed with power.

The elf laughed as he rose higher into the sky. Experimentally, Kham fired off a shot and was not surprised when it had no effect. The elf never even stopped laughing.

"Guess he's got his own ride home," Neko said dryly.

Tracer rounds stitched up the pavement and into the remains of the truck. Its fuel ignited and burst into flames. Huddled behind the abandoned car, the crew was safe for the moment, but those tracers and the moan accompanying them were familiar: the hellions had found them. How, Kham didn't know; it didn't matter. Once more they were facing long odds with the dice loaded against them.

He looked into the sky. The retreating elf was a mere speck, leaving them to face the hellions alone. And Glasgian probably knew he was doing it, too. There was no point in cursing the bastard; Kham had known the elf might do just such a thing when he'd agreed to help the weedeater recover the crystal from the dragon's goons. Kham had believed that the need to keep the magic away from the dragon made taking the chance necessary. He'd hoped to be able to keep the crystal from the elf as well. He should have known better. Another good ork life spent, with nothing to show for it.

Bullets chewed at the metal that shielded them. Ratstomper looked up from the body she cradled in her arms. "What do we do now, Kham?"

He wished he knew. There didn't seem to be a lot of options. The Airstar's armament could take out the hellions, but they were too far from the chopper; Rabo would get wasted trying to make it across the street. Without the chopper, their own firepower wasn't going to be enough against the hellions.

"It's not worth dying for an empty truck," Neko pointed out.

Kham wondered if it would have been worth dying if the truck were still full of what they had come after. This eternity magic, if that's what it was, was getting awfully expensive.

"Enterich said he'd call the hellions off," Kham began.

"If we stayed out of it," Ratstomper reminded him needlessly.

"Suit's your chummer, catboy. He good for his word?"

"Again, he's not my chummer. As for his word, we would seem to have broken the pact ourselves. However, we would have little chance if we fight. Perhaps they will be lenient if we can claim that the elf forced us."

"If they let us talk," Ratstomper said gloomily.

There was a lull in the firing, and Kham could hear a car approaching.

"Only one way to find out," he said, but before he could act, Neko had jumped up, tossed away his submachine gun, and stepped around the car's fender. The catboy walked forward, hands in the air. "News," he shouted. "We have news for Enterich."

Kham half-expected to see the little Jap kid sliced and diced by the hungry red tracers, but it didn't happen. A car rolled out of the gathering darkness. Its doors had been ripped off to accommodate the huge cyberguys: one hellion was crammed into the driver's seat and the other clung to the passenger side, his tri-barrel pointing in their direction. The car squealed as if protesting mistreatment as it slowed to a halt. Unsurprisingly, the tribarrel never wavered from its target.

Kham tossed his own weapon away and stood, shouting, "Don't shoot. We got news for your boss."

For a long, sweaty moment, he thought they weren't going to buy it. Then, the muzzles of the tribarrel dropped, and the hellion made what sounded like an exasperated sigh. The hellions emerged from the car, its springs sighing in relief at the removal of their burdensome weight. One hellion monitored the disarming of the orks while the other checked over the wreckage of the truck. If they cared whether their colleagues were wounded or dead, they never gave a sign. Satisfied that the crystal was gone, they herded the orks and Neko into the Airstar. Once more they took to the air in the commandeered chopper, but this time Rabo wasn't driving.

"It is unfortunate that you did not heed my advice," Mr. Enterich said, his voice sad, but his face expressionless. The suit stared at them from the video screen for several minutes without saying anything else. En- j terich was only an image on a screen, but still Kham ' felt discomfited by the man's eyes. Their look of disapproval was too much like what he usually saw in Harry's eyes, the slight hint of distaste too much like that in Lissa's.

What did they all want of him anyway? He tried to do what he thought was right. Was it his fault there was always another player with a bigger stake or better cards? He was just a street ork. What more could they

expect?

Enterich shook his head slightly. "I had hoped that this matter was closed."

One by one, the suit questioned them closely about their brief alliance with Glasgian. He started with Neko and was working his way through the team to Kham.

While The Weeze was giving her version, Kham looked around the room where they were being kept. The walls were bare and featureless, bland in the dull fluorescent light from the overhead panels. The way it was fitted out with chairs and low tables made it seem like a doctor's waiting room; there were even stacks of magazines on the tables. Bored with the constant repetition, Rabo had found a tech journal to stick his nose into. The hellions hadn't let them see where they'd been taken. They'd blanked out the Airstar's windows for the ride, then hustled the team out into a darkened hangar and through darkened halls. Kham and his runners could have been anywhere, but everything was all straight and real clean, so it had to be corporate property.

The catboy was the only one who seemed relaxed, like maybe he'd been here before. Maybe he had; especially if his real loyalties did lie with Enterich and his dragon master. Still, Neko had been disarmed and incarcerated in the cabin of the Airstar with them, lending some credence to his protests that he was not one of Enterich's agents. Of course that might all be part of the scam to make it seem that Neko was an independent, just like the questioning.

In his turn, Kham gave the same story of Glasgian's arrival as everyone else had, but he put a special emphasis on the elf's insistence that they not leave the crystal in Enterich's possession. As Kham was confirming for the fifth time that Glasgian had said Enterich worked for Saeder-Krupp, the picture on the video screen changed. The suit's image was reduced, remaining only in a small inset box in the upper-left corner. The rest of the screen was black. But only for a moment. A new image appeared, a golden dragon's head. The screen was two meters tall and the head more than filled it, the dragon's horns projecting up and out of the image area. Though there was nothing in the picture that could give scale to the image, Kham had the impression that the image was smaller than life-sized. This beast was big, even for its kind. ' 7 am Lofwyr.''

The shock of the dragon's speech buzzed in Kham's head. It hadn't moved its lips or opened its mouth, but it had spoken; he had no doubt of that. The feeling in his head was almost like the one he got when the wage-mage they'd blasted on the last run with Sally had gotten into Kham's head, but it was different, too. He didn't understand how the dragon was communicating, but it didn't matter. It was, and he was hearing it.

So were the others. Ratstomper and The Weeze were staring round-eyed at the screen, and the catboy had come out of his lazing slump and was sitting on the edge of his seat. To Kham's surprise, Rabo was still absorbed in his magazine. Hadn't he heard the dragon announce himself? Kham elbowed the rigger, who looked up and did a double-take when he saw the video screen.

"Drek! When did that drop in?" The dragon ignored his remark. ' 7 have listened to your stories and have heard enough. Time, even as it is measured by your kind, is short. This elf, Glasgian, is dabbling in matters that he does not understand, and the magic he is playing with will cause dire consequences. If he manages to complete his plans, I will not be able to contain the situation. ''

The dragon stopped speaking, seemingly waiting. Nobody else reacted, so Kham screwed up his courage. "Dat sounds like a pitch. Yer boy said he wanted us outta it."

From his little box, Enterich said, "As should be obvious, the situation has changed."

"I didn't wanta deal wit ya before I knew who ya worked fer," Kham objected. "I prefer dealing wit elves. At least dey're human."

' 'They would not agree with you.'' Lofwyr produced a rumble that might have been dragonish laughter. As the rumble died away, Enterich added, "The elves believe other metahumans to be lesser races than themselves; they dream of the old days when magic ruled, and wish to establish a world order in which their superiority is acknowledged."

"Elves iiber untermenschen," Neko said sotto voce.

"Essentially," Enterich said. The suit went on to sling more mud at elves in general, but Kham tuned him out; it wasn't anything he hadn't heard before.

"Where'd ya pick up German, catboy?" he whispered to Neko.

"Old American war movies," Neko replied casually.

Enterich concluded with, "If Glasgian is not stopped immediately, he will disrupt delicate balances. Assuredly, he believes that the change will benefit him and his kind, but there is no guarantee that he is correct. Whatever the ultimate outcome, your kind will not fare well."

"You will believe what I tell you, if you are wise, " Lofwyr said. "Act, or end as a slave, as your race was in ancient times.''

Neko leaned forward. "So there were orks then, too. There really are cycles."

"How could it be otherwise? Life is a cycle. Magic, born of life, must be one with it. Only a dangerous fool would think otherwise.''

"I knew it." Neko grinned. To Kham he said, "I told you."

"Consider da source," Kham grumbled back at him. To the dragon he said, "Maybe dere was orks and elves a long time ago. And maybe orks was slaves ta da daisy-eaters. But dis is America and we don't got no slaves here anymore. Even if dere was, tings are different now. Dere's a lot more orks dan dere are pointy-eared slave master wannabees. We orks ain't gonna bow down ta no elves."

"Numbers are no match for their ancient knowledge. And though you breed as quickly as you like, soon the elves will have you in their hands.''

"Well, if we ain't worth anyting, what ya want us fer?

"It is not my choice. "

"Well, it sure as hell ain't ours. We know about dealing wit dragons."

' 'Do you really?'' There was something sardonic in the dragon's tone. "It does not matter, though. You are already involved. ''

"You are responsible for the elf recovering the crystal," Enterich added.

"I suggest, great Lofwyr," Neko said deferentially, "that had your minions been more… competent, they would have retained the crystal. We added little or nothing to the elf's attempt to regain the crystal. No more than any muscle might have done."

Kham was afraid the catboy's smart remark would anger the dragon, but the beast rumbled its amusement. "Crown the wise, harness the talented, and cherish the lucky.''

What was that supposed to mean? Something in the timbre of Lofwyr's words suggested that the dragon was repeating an often-heard phrase, like a proverb or a bit of street wisdom. Kham had never heard the words before and they didn't make much sense to him. He exchanged glances with the catboy. Neko obviously didn't understand what the dragon meant, either.

"You agreed to help The elf when you thought my agents had stolen something of elven magic. You believed that no dragon should have access to what the crystal represented. I tell you now that you were wrong. Sadly wrong.

"Know this. It is the elves who have stolen something of dragon magic; a turn of events that was never meant to be. It is an outrage that an ephemeral mammal has bonded with the crystal, and I will not countenance it. You shall be my instruments. You led him to the crystal, now you will take it from him and return it to me.''

The dragon's "voice" shook Kham with its intensity, making him quite sure that their only choices were cooperation or death. The usual. But now that the dragon had taken a personal interest, Kham didn't see any way to avoid the second choice. Either they said no and died now or said yes and died later, either fighting Glasgian or silenced later by the dragon. "We don't even know where he went."

Enterich responded pedantically. "The files you took from Glasgian's Andalusian operation reveal an interest in a certain triangular section of real estate in the southeastern Salish territory. Interestingly enough, the autopilot of his Airstar contains a flight plan that would allow him to travel to the central portion of that same area. I suggest that the conclusion is obvious." "It might be a red herring," Neko said. "A scarlet fish," Lofwyr grumbled. "Ah yes. A ruse.''

"Yeah," Kham agreed. "It might be-just a fake." "It is not. " There was absolute certainty in Lofwyr's response.

"Ya got your bad boy hellions and tons of goons, whatcha need us for?''

"You are responsible for the elf having possession of the crystal.''

"He said we were responsible for you having it." "He was lying. "

"And you're not, hunh?" Kham blurted out, then realized that his words were a direct challenge to the dragon's honesty. He'd heard that the beasts had a strange sense of honor. If Kham had given insult, he'd just bought himself a problem and the dragon's wanting him to go after the elf wouldn't save him.

Strange lights swirled in the dragon's eyes, and Kham held his breath.

"Ah, I have always preferred the blunt honesty of your race to the duplicity of the elves.''

Emboldened, Kham said, "Ya like blunt, I'll be blunt. I don't see no reason why we should help ya."

"You have been offered your lives. " "I seen what dat elf can do. I seen what yer hellions can do. Even yer norm goons ain't slouches. Ryan learned dat real good. Seems ta me, if we get caught in the middle again, we ain't gonna come out of it alive."

The dragon was silent for a while. Up in his little box, Enterich watched them impassively. Ratstomper started to fidget. Finally, Lofwyr spoke again.

"/ could compel you, but that would lower your efficiency and dispel your luck. Instead, I will appeal to your philanthropy.

"Glasgian seeks a war, a war that will devastate this planet. Even your kind must have some concern for the world on which you live. Glasgian's war could well result in the end of life, certainly the end of life as you know it.

"You have children, Kham. As do you, Weeze and Rabo. Consider the kind of world Glasgian's war will bring. If he wins, the elves will dance on the bones of the dead and be served by those they deem fit to live only as their slaves. If he loses, the devastation will still be extensive. In what kind of world would you have your offspring dwell?

"If you do not act to stop Glasgian, this war will come. If you act, it may be averted. You all consider yourselves to have free will, and so I give you the chance to exercise your choice.

' 'Stand by and watch the world, your world, go up in flames. "Or act."

The dragon's words rang in Kham's head, tolling with sincerity. No one wanted their kids to live in a world destroyed by war. The world had seen what man's wars could do; the might of the modern war machine was terrible. How much worse would a war with magic be? — Or one in which dragons fought? He felt sure that it could only be worse, far worse.

But was his fear of possible war, his conviction that it would come if they didn't act, truth? Or was it a side effect of the compulsion that Lofwyr had suggested he could create?

More than ever, Kham wanted to see the elf pulled down. Glasgian had taught him that he could never trust an elf, and everyone on the street knew that you could never deal with a dragon and come out ahead. Sometimes, you had to do what had to be done, even if it meant you came out on the short end; that's what Harry had told him. But Harry had also said, with equal conviction, that you always look out for yourself first. So what was it going to be? "You ain't sending us after da elf alone, are ya?" Enterich replied. "The hellions will accompany you."

"Watchdogs?" Neko inquired. "To eliminate us when the jobs done?"

"I do not countenance waste.''

Kham looked his guys over. From their expressions, they were as torn as he. Rabo said, "If the wizworm's right about a war, we gotta do it. I've seen war, Kham. I don't want my kids to. It ain't no gang rumble, or even a hot run.''

Turning to the catboy, Kham asked him, "What about you?"

"I will aid the dragon in this."

"Still on da payroll?"

"Still trying to convince you otherwise. This is a necessary thing."

"So ya believe the wizworm."

"He is convincing."

"Yeah, I guess he is."

Truth or compulsion?

' 'Cherish the lucky,'' the dragon repeated enigmatically.

Kham still didn't understand the reference, but he felt the satisfaction Lofwyr exuded. The dragon was getting what he wanted, and in a way so was Kham. By agreeing to the dragon's demands, he and his guys would get out of the wizworm's paws. They'd still have to face the elf and deal with the hellions, but a long shot was better than no chance at all.

Once more they were in the air, in pursuit of the magical crystal and its current possessor. Neko looked around the aircraft at the strangers in whose company he traveled. This was not a new experience, of course, but an uncomfortable one when facing danger. Battle was best faced with trusted comrades, and what little comradeship left between him and the orks had evaporated under accusations that he was Enterich's agent. As for the hellions, the only thing that had ever existed between him and them was antagonism. The warriors carried by the Airstar were a strange crew, united in their grimness but so disparate in all other things.

In the cockpit, Rabo was happy to again be at the controls of a fine machine, his mood much improved since the hellions had allowed him to pilot the craft after leaving Enterich's facility. One of the cyberneti-cally enhanced toughs, Alpha, remained with him, probably to prevent him from using the craft's computer to backtrack their course. Enterich seemed determined to cloak his lair in mystery. A fine challenge to find it, should they survive this run.

The other hellion, Beta, sat with a stillness unnatural in a living being. He simply watched them all, taking no part in the fitful, short conversations.

The Weeze checked and rechecked her weapons, paying particular attention to the Colt M22A2 assault rifle the hellions had given her from the stock aboard the Airstar. It wasn't clear whether she distrusted it because it came from Glasgian's stock or because the hellions had given it to her, but her suspicion was obvious, her behavior strangely compulsive.

Kham sat staring at the blackness of the opaqued window. Neko didn't know if the big ork was looking at his own reflection or staring off at some inner landscape. Perhaps he pondered the future of which Lofwyr had spoken, or the dragon's curious proverb concerning the wise, the talented, and the lucky. Whatever thoughts occupied the big ork's mind, they isolated him from the rest of the Airstar's passengers.

Ratstomper sat by herself, unusual for her. But then she had withdrawn since Ryan's death. That was just as well; she was the one who had first turned a weapon on Neko when they had thought he was in Enterich's employ. If she still believed that, she might try again, but not until the danger was over. She was a victim of her emotions, but Kham hoped she was not so foolhardy as to start a fight under the hellions' eyes. Those metal monsters might not care to distinguish between the initiator and the victim of any fight between her and Neko.

For his own part, Neko found no need to talk. What was there to say? Soon they would be facing a hostile, powerful elf and whatever allies he might call up. Already they had made what skeletal plans they could. Without more information, further discussion would not gain them anything. They were in the hands of fate, set to win or lose according to their karma. Lofwyr seemed to think them lucky. Could a dragon detect such things? If so, and if Lofwyr had detected what he called luck in them, they might survive this night. After all, what was luck but good karma?

Unlike the compulsive Weezer, Neko did not feel the need to check his weapons. He'd done it after making his choice from among those in the Airstar's arsenal. The Colt assault rifle sitting across his knees was heavier than he normally liked to carry, but more suitable to the task at hand. He had found no deficiencies in the weapon or its ammunition, such as The Weeze seemed to be searching for. Why should there be? Lofwyr wanted Glasgian stopped; he would not send them into battle armed with inoperative or malfunctioning weapons. If Lofwyr wanted the team to die in the battle, he could leave the task to his hellions. The dragon's watchdogs were better-armed and better-armored, the most likely survivors of the battle. They would be able to silence any extraneous persons who managed to escape from the elf.

But the answers to all such questions and speculations were in the future, and to ponder them now was fruitless unless one could do constructive planning. With all the variables, that wasn't possible at the moment. Good karma or bad, they would meet the fate that awaited them. Neko relaxed into his seat, feeling the thrumming vibration of the aircraft's engines. Letting himself sink into the rhythm, he found rest. It would be time for action soon enough.

Glasgian had never known power like the crystal granted him. Since bonding it to him, he had felt wonderful, stronger than he'd ever been, capable of-well, of anything. No wonder Urdli had wanted to keep him from it; the morkhan must have wanted it all to himself.

The flight from Seattle had been exhilarating. To ride the wind like that, to move under the power of his own will. Never had he known such freedom in this world. It was almost like journeying astrally. To will movement and have it happen, with no regard for flesh, no recourse to machines. It was marvelous.

He touched down briefly at the site where they had uncovered the crystal, just long enough to assure himself that the calculations were correct. The stone knew; he could feel it in the vibrations of the crystal lattice. The resonance was perfect, focused where it should be.

Glasgian laughed aloud. Vindication was wonderful, but what was to come would be even better. This was just the start.

With tonight's work done, they would see, they would all see, that he was right. Now was the time. This was to be the cycle that would see elvenkind triumphant. And Glasgian would continue to lead the way, as he had just done. There would be no place for laggards and faint hearts like Urdli. Let the old fossil crawl back under his rock and hide his head. The new order was coming. Glasgian's order. He would be a new Lojan, bestriding the world like a victorious colossus.

He flew with breathtaking speed to his destination, a stretch of nondescript forest. To the mortal, mundane eye the place would have looked ordinary. It might even have seemed ordinary to Glasgian had he been here a week ago. But no longer. Ever since he had bonded to the crystal, his senses were expanded, empowered. He saw all things more clearly than ever before.

As he brought the stone lower, the small life of the forest noticed his approach and began to scatter. "Run!" he called out to them. "Run and tell of the dawn of the new age."

He roved over the ground, studying the form of what he had sought for so long. Running his astral senses along its boundaries, he felt its size and shape, perceived its contents. It was not as he had expected. It was larger, its form more irregular, and its content greater, but none of that mattered. With the crystal bound to his will, he had the key. The cache was his now to do with as he willed.

He brought the crystal down on a small rise just south of the structure. The south was appropriate; south was the home of fire, and fire was what he brought. Before he called that fire, he wanted to see his prize. Summoning an earth elemental seemed the obvious choice to lay it bare. Obvious and facile. An air elemental was a better choice. Earth shielded what he sought; let the opposing element rip bare the hidden treasure.

Having made the decision, he wasted no more time, summoning a spirit more powerful than he would have dared try to control yesterday. The branches of the trees rustled as if greeting the new arrival. The elemental would have been visible even to the unaided eye, its power a shimmering ripple in the air, but to Glasgian's heightened senses it was a glorious aurora of power swirling in a tight whirlwind. Such power, such beauty, and it had come to do his bidding. So, let it do that bidding.

He ordered the elemental to clear away the sediment that hid what he wished to see. Instantly, leaves and loose debris began to shift and skitter along the ground, moving faster and faster in a whirlwind tumble. Loose dirt and larger branches joined the tumult and the wind rose to a roar. The cyclonic effect grew until trees were uprooted and flung away. The tempest grew stronger still. Stones and massive clods of earth were ripped wholesale from the ground and swirled higher into the funnel. The soil was torn away, then the underlying rock strata fragmented under the ero-sional effect and was swept away as well.

Glasgian's senses tingled in harmony to a quiver in the crystal. The elemental's assault had awakened the magical defenses of the hidden cache. They trembled on the verge of acting against the elemental, almost activating. Those defenses were strong enough to scatter the arcane energy of Glasgian's summoning, but with the crystal in his power, those defenses belonged to Glasgian now. He willed them to stillness and watched gleefully as the elemental laid bare his spoils. When the deed was done, he dismissed the spirit and contemplated the newly uncovered spheres.

They were of many sizes and colors, variations on a theme. He might even have found the sight pleasant, had he not known what lay within. He selected one at random. It was larger than most, a pale yellow sphere speckled with a faint dusting of charcoal and umber flecks. With the power of his mind, he pulled it from its resting place.

The contact of his telekinetic touch and his heightened sensitivity told him that this one was almost ready to hatch; so ready that it might survive being broken free of the shell. In the interest of scientific experiment, Glasgian decided to see. He exerted pressure on the shell, delicately balancing the interplay of power so that he exerted enough force to crack the shell without completely crushing what lay within. Cracks ran across the surface in a jagged rush. The shards of shell fell away in a gush of amniotic fluid, but he did not let the embryo fall. Oh no, that was too easy.

He stared at the ugly thing, noting its leathery pale gray hide, the tucked and folded wings spiky with the beginnings of feathers, the wedge-shaped head bumpy with babyish horns, all blunt save for the now-useless egg "tooth" on its nose. It was every bit as vile as he had imagined, but at least he was in a position to do something about it. This one would never grow up. He bathed it in fire and laughed to hear its pitiful shrieks.

"Screech all you want, worm. You are mine. There will be no answer to your bawlings while I hold the key to the nest."

It turned its head to him when he spoke, its filmed eyes searching for the source of its torment. Glasgian did not believe that it really understood, but its affinity for magic would let it locate him as the source of the occult flames torturing it. It mewled, begging for relief.

With a gesture, he stopped the flames. The beast whimpered in relief. He let it enjoy the moment; then, with a wide sweep of his arms, rent it limb from limb while simultaneously crushing its rib cage. Dropping the torn and broken form like the trash it was, he reached for another.

"There he is," Rabo called as the polarity of the windows shifted to transparency. Already facing out, Kham could see the glow on the horizon. The sky outside the window looked like sunset, but the time was nearer to midnight. So, what Kham was looking at had to be hell.

Rabo put the Airstar into a long, banking turn that would give them a better, more protected angle of approach. The hellion in the cabin remained were he was, but The Weeze and Ratstomper crowded Kham. His window offered the best angle to see the flickering light show. The catboy only raised his head a little and cast a sleepy-eyed glance out the window.

The glow of Glasgian's magic pulsated as if the power were fluctuating, but Kham didn't dare hope that it might be so. The brighter bursts probably only meant that Glasgian was unleashing specific localized spells. Destructive spells, to judge by how much the Airstar was being buffeted by rough air. It was almost like making an approach through triple-A. Those spells might soon be coming their way and it would get even a lot more like triple-A. Lethally like it.

To avoid that, Rabo took them down to treetop level, trying to get closer without revealing their approach to the elf. The rigger was supposed to find a spot close in, where they could unload. Once the passengers had debarked, the orks and hellions would close on foot and Rabo would wait for the assault, bringing the chopper in as fire support.

Beta got up as his partner came into the cabin, opening the main door while Alpha said something. The wind rushing in and the noise of the whirling rotors carried away the hellion's words.

The ground was quite close, and getting closer.

It was almost time.

"Lock and load, chummers," Kham shouted, loud enough so his voice could be heard. He slapped the magazine on his weapon to be sure it was snugged home, then worked the charger. He couldn't hear the sound of it slapping home, but the smooth feel of the action told him the weapon was ready.

It was time.

One by one they jumped from the hovering chopper.

Rabo had chosen a good spot, placing them so they were coming at the elf from behind and to one side. The woods were thick with forest giants, screening them from the elfs sight and muffling the low thrum of the silenced rotors. The hellions led the way, moving quickly through the benighted trees. Slipping starlight goggles down over his face, Kham improved his already excellent night vision. Fear of running into a tree was not going to slow him down. The other guys did the same, and the crew moved at top speed along the vector Rabo had given them.

After ten minutes, the hellions slowed and Kham gave the signal for his guys to do the same. While they might be able to see well enough to crash through the brush of the forest floor, their progress was too noisy. If they wanted to catch the elf unaware, they'd have to do it quietly. Reaching the edge of the woods, they hid among the piles of loose brush and fallen trees, feet sinking into soft earth that smelled freshly dug. Kham didn't like it at all, but then he rarely liked being out of the plex. Getting ready to take on a powerful elven mage didn't add much to his enthusiasm for loam and rotting leaves.

Alpha tapped him on the shoulder. "Remove your goggles. They have insufficient compensators to deal with magical energy flares."

"Swell," Ratstomper whispered harshly. "Couldn't you guys at least get us decent equipment?"

"Is there a problem with your equipment?" Alpha asked, turning cold metal eyes on her.

"Weapon's fine," 'Stomper said grudgingly. "Nothing important to say, don't talk. It's almost time. The rigger is coming," Alpha told them before slipping away to rejoin the other hellion. Together they moved away from the orks, taking up a position from which they'd launch the second prong of the ground assault.

Looking out from his hiding place, Kham could see that the elf had created some kind of pit in the middle of the clearing. Most of the open area was a shallow bowl, starting at the tangle of debris that marked the edge of the forest and sloping down in a cutaway of soil and rock. Near the center the angle of the slope increased sharply, plunging to unknown depths.

Communing with hell? he silently asked the elf.

Glasgian stood on a stony rise about thirty meters to Kham's right. Though the air was still, the elf's coat whipped around him as if he stood in a gale. The elf was watching something that hovered, dark and writhing, over the center of the pit. At irregular intervals, Glasgian gestured and arcane bolts flew from his hand to lash at the thing. The elf laughed when the whatever-it-was screamed.

Suddenly the elf seemed to sense that he was no longer alone. He turned, looking directly toward where the orks were hiding. The thing over the pit dropped, landing with a faraway, soggy splat. There wasn't any more time for sneaking.

"Hit him!"

The hellions were firing before Kham got the second word out of his mouth. The elf reacted almost as quickly. He ducked low and a finger of stone rose between him and the hellions. As their tribarrels sent streams of ineffectual fire against the rock, the elf began to laugh wildly. The rock cut off Kham's line of fire as well. He led the guys around for a better angle.

Undaunted, the hellions separated, each trying for an opening. Secure behind his shield, Glasgian worked a greater magic. A wall of rock and earth erupted between him and the charging cyberguys, no mere pillar this time but a mass at least fifty meters long and half as many high. They scrambled back, narrowly avoiding the growing wall.

At that moment, the Airstar swept in at treetop level, guns formerly concealed in its fuselage deployed and firing. The guys cheered Rabo on as he raked the ground around the elf, bringing the deadly torrent of firepower closer to its target. Incredibly, the elf stood his ground, gesturing in the chopper's direction. For an instant, nothing happened, then Neko shouted, "The trees!"

Kham didn't understand until the earth groaned beneath his feet and a half-dozen of the forest giants at the edge of the clearing flew upward, trailing clods of earth from their roots like a missile's contrail.

If Rabo saw them, he never reacted. The first tree sliced through the Airstar's tail boom, sending the craft into a crazy spin. The second would have hit the cockpit, except that it was no longer where it should have been. The whirling craft struck the bole of that forest giant and stove in, its blades chopping themselves to destruction against its bark. Only one more of the flying trees smashed into the battered chopper, but it was overkill. The Airstar dropped like a rock, falling in a tangle with the debris of its attackers. The unsuccessful wooden missiles dropped as well.

Glasgian turned his attention to the shouting, firing orks.

A sizzling ball of eldritch energy rumbled from the elf's cupped hands. Kham dropped, throwing himself into the raw earth at the pit's shallow edge. He hit shoulder-first and felt rocks beneath the surface gouge into his muscles-a minor price to avoid the magical blast. The others were not so lucky or quick.

The spell erupted in their midst. Furthest from the center of impact, the catboy was picked up and tossed away, flailing. The two orks took the brunt of the blast. The Weeze erupted in flame, screaming as her clothes melted to her skin. She fell to the ground, tumbling over and over as she rolled down the slope. Ratstom-per's clothes ignited, too, but somehow she remained standing for a few seconds. Howling in rage and pain, she tried to bring her rocket launcher to bear. Then something, ammo or a grenade, cooked off. It blew her in half, her spasming arms flinging the launcher high in the air. It landed five meters in front of Kham.

He looked at the weapon rather than back at her. The elf's voice cut into his numbness.

"Your kind is such a tiresome bother, oh great trog leader. The children with the bigger guns were bigger threats and so required my more immediate attention. I hope you haven't been bored by the wait."

Kham raised his eyes, staring at his death gathering among the elfs fingers. His senses seemed abnormally sharp. He heard the flap of Glasgian's coat, the crackle of flames from behind him, and soft, pained moans from the pit. Savoring the melange of flavors from the grit in his mouth, he got a new salty-sour taste when he licked his dried lips. Then came the scent of his own sweat-soaked clothes as well as the smell of things he didn't want to put names to, things he'd smelled before and thought he'd grown used to. But his eyes were sharpest of all. Every fold of the elf's suit, every wrinkle in his coat, was apparent. The elf's smooth, perfect skin. His wide smile and perfect teeth. The wind-blown fineness of his pale silvery hair. The cold, frigid depths of his glacial blue eyes. All absolutely vivid.

Out the corner of his eye, Kham saw Alpha racing down the length of the earth barrier. Beta was heading in the other direction. Each had almost reached his end of the wall. Nice moves, but a little late.

For some reason Glasgian delayed blasting Kham. Almost in slow motion, the elf turned as Beta cleared the earthen obstacle, firing his tribarrel as he came. Glasgian unleashed the energy he had gathered for Kham's demise, bathing the hellion in scarlet fires. The metal guy grinned mirthlessly as the flames disappeared, but only for a second. His tiny eyes went wide, first with surprise, then with terror, as the magic began to take effect. Deep within he seemed to glow, the normal pallor of his skin taking on a ruddy look. Then any false promise of health vanished as the glow intensified. For a moment, he seemed a chrome-plated glass statue, confining a laser light show, then he began to smoke as what remained of his flesh caught fire and burned. His screams rose into the night, then stopped suddenly as something within his armor exploded and he flew apart in sparking, fiery bits. Glasgian laughed wildly.

"And you thought yourself safe from magic. Consider it repayment for Madame Guiscadeaux, whom you so ignominiously killed. She was a promising student."

The other hellion didn't give the elf time to enjoy his triumph. Alpha rounded the far end of the wall. Like his partner, he came out firing, but unlike Beta, he no longer relied simply on his antipersonnel weapons. A quartet of rockets screamed away from launchers, shrouding him in a pall of smoke hellishly lit by the tracers from the tribarrel.

For his trouble Glasgian dumped the earth wall on the hellion, burying him.

But the elf hadn't acted fast enough to shield himself completely. Without the hellion's guidance, Alpha's rockets didn't hit the mage, but two of them blasted into the rise on which he stood. He was rocked from his perch, thrown clear of the crystal.

Some of the fire seemed to go out of him, and for the first time that night Kham saw Glasgian as vulnerable. But he'd be up soon. Already he was shaking his head, recovering from the stunning eifect of the explosion.

Kham would have shot him at once, but his AK had disappeared. He glanced around for it, but the only weapon in sight was Ratstomper's launcher. Good enough. The hellions had shown that it would take heavy firepower to take down this mage, and the launcher was big bang. He scrambled up, staggered to it, and hefted it onto his shoulder. Glasgian didn't seem to know Kham was there. That wouldn't do. The bastard needed to know he was going to die.

"Freeze, weed-eater," he ordered as he trained the launcher on Glasgian.

Slowly, the elf focused on him. Although the elf eyed Kham malevolently, he did nothing. That made Kham wonder, for Glasgian had not been reluctant to unleash his destructive spells before. Suspicion flared, and Kham hesitated. Did the elf have some secret defense? Apparently sensing Kham's wavering resolve, Glasgian stared at him contemptuously as he rose and started back up the rise. Toward the crystal.

Kham realized that through all the previous combat, Glasgian had been in contact with the rock. Maybe that was the key to the elf's amazing well of arcane power. It had to be. Whatever else it was, the crystal had to be a power focus. He shifted his aim, centering the pale rose stone in the cross hairs. He didn't know if the missile would damage it, but it was worth a try.

"No!" The tremor in the elf's voice told him that he had made a right guess. "You don't know what you'd be destroying."

Kham didn't have to know, beyond knowing that it would pain this elf, make him pay. "Move any closer to it and we can find out."

Glasgian froze. "Don't be a fool, ork. Don't listen to the dragon's lies."

"How do ya know what dat wizworm said?"

"I know he lies."

"Funny. It said da same about you."

Kham shifted his position so that he could easily switch targets from the crystal to the elf, but he still kept the weapon aimed at the rock. From his now slightly more elevated position, Kham found he could look past Glasgian and into the pit.

It was full of objects that looked like big eggs, shattered shells, and the things that must have come out of them. He didn't recognize much of it, except that one of the corpses looked something like a tiny dragon. With a shock, Kham realized that he was standing on the edge of a dragon's nest.

His reaction caused him to drop the muzzle of the launcher. Glasgian took advantage of Kham's distraction to make a break for the crystal. Snapping the launcher back up, Kham put a round between Glasgian and the stone. The concussion knocked Glasgian back, tumbling him over and rolling him back down the slope. Dirt and stones pelted down.

Towering over both of them, the crystal sat serenely, undisturbed by the violence around it. It was a promise of power, a gift of new life, and a harbinger of doom, all at once. Kham shivered.

"If this is left undone, there will be hell to pay," the elf said quietly.

"Price has been pretty high already." "You cannot imagine how much more it will be. Your children will curse you, should they have tongues left in their heads. Your race and all mankind will vilify you, if you stop me from doing what must be done."

Doing what? Killing orks and breaking eggs. "Ain't never had much good said about me by norms. Less by elves."

"Other elves have been foolish. They have not seen your inner spirit, as I now have. The courage you have, the conviction you show."

"Candadrek."

"I understand your anger. But I did not know what I should have known from the first. I want to make amends. We need not be enemies."

"Wasn't my choice."

"Mistakes and misunderstandings. And not all on my part, either. You know that we elves are long-lived,

that we have fine things, that we have magic, and you are jealous. You need not be jealous. You too can have such fine things, have your life eased by magic. I can see that you will live a long life, too. All you need do is extend a little trust."

Could Glasgian do what he had just said? How could Kham trust this elf? "Ya tried ta kill me and my family."

"As I said, mistakes and misunderstandings." The elf smiled ingratiatingly, showing perfect teeth that glinted in a beautiful, though dirt-smudged face. "I did not know the strength of spirit in you then. I do now. Let us work together. Let us sear this wretched place with fire and spread its ashes on the wind. Let us face the dragon together. With my magic and your spirit, we will surely conquer. We shall be as Lojan and Yasmundr, mage and indomitable warrior. They will sing our praises forever."

Kham had always wanted to be a big shot warrior. That was the dream all orks had; being warriors was what orks did. So why did he have such a sour feeling in his stomach? "Den what?"

"Then we will be the heroes. The world will be ours."

"All for geeking one old worm? Ain't likely."

"You think in the short term, a common failing of your kind. You must-you will-learn to think more clearly. To have perspective."

A slight shift in the wind brought the stink of burnt flesh to Kham's nostrils. Perspective, huh? Maybe he was finally getting a little of that. "I ain't no warrior hero."

The elf looked disappointed. "Perhaps I still misunderstand you a little. Perhaps the martial road is not your true concern. You have spoken of your family. Could it be that you only wish peace, to go home to them and live out your life? "

Yeah, it could be. Much the elf would know about that. "Maybe."

"Then peace can be yours. You need not be a warrior and face the worms, dying after a short, brutal life. I can make it different for you. And I will, if only you will let me use the crystal." The elf took a step up the slope. "I can bring a lasting peace to this world, rid it of the vermin." Another step. "You need only leave."

"So ya can come hunting me when ya feel like it." "No. I will let you go. You and the other survivors." Glasgian gave him a sympathetic look. "Ah, you thought you were alone. Indeed, some of the others still live, but they shall not live long without attention. You dally. The crystal gives power, and power can heal."

Kham didn't know who was still alive, maybe no one besides himself. The elf was a proven liar, and the groan could have been one of his illusions. So why was Kham still listening? "And why should I trust you?"

"Because you sense that I speak truth. I will do what I have said I will do. Have no doubt of that. I am a prince of the true blood, and my word is binding. But you are not of my line, and you do not understand the bonds of the given word. So, for you, I will swear an oath. By the bones of the Mother and by my hope to see the beauty of harmony in the twilight, I will do as I have said. It is a solemn oath."

Kham didn't recognize the oath, but the sincerity in the elfs voice was persuasive. The fragger really wanted to get his hands back on the stone. Could he be trusted?

"I'll see that you live like a king," Glasgian offered as he took another step toward the crystal.

Crown the wise, the dragon had said. Was it wisdom to let the elf regain control of the crystal? Harry al ways said wisdom came with age, making it something Kham had little of. Nor was he likely to get a whole lot more wisdom; he knew an ork's life span. The elfs promises, even if they were good, were made to him and him alone. Once he was gone, what then? The elf would still be around to do as he pleased.

"What about my children?" Kham asked in a voice that quavered more than he expected.

Solemnly, the elf nodded. "They will live in a better world."

"Your world."

The elf took another step. "Yes, my world." Act, or end as a slave, as your race was in ancient times, the dragon had said. So who was the liar? Kham pointed the launcher at the stone. "No!" The elf shouted. Kham pulled the trigger.

"NOOOOO!" Glasgian's shout changed pitch, warping itself into a scream of agony. The rocket impacted the crystal and exploded. Impossibly, the elfs voice carried over the sound of the explosion.

An arc of blue-white energy sizzled from the smoking stump of the crystal and speared the elf in the forehead. He jerked as if he had been jolted with a trillion volts of electricity. Thunder rolled in a sky suddenly dark with storm clouds, and bolts of lightning crashed down, striking all around them. The rising wind tugging at him, Kham let go of the launcher and dropped to the ground. As the storm grew, Kham burrowed deeper. Each bolt set his muscles twitching. Face-down in the dirt, he thought about Lissa and the kids, wishing, and almost praying, that he would see them again. Had he done the right thing? Had he just blown their futures to smithereens?

At length the tempest abated and Kham thought that it might be safe to look around. He raised his head. The clearing looked little different. A thin trail of smoke rose from where the Airstar had crashed beyond the trees. Had Rabo survived? A whimpering drifted to him from the edge of the deeper part of the pit. The Weeze. She was still alive at least. What a tough ork. As Kham stood up shakily, his gaze fell upon the elf.

Glasgian lay limp, draped over the broken crystal. The fragments of the stone were no longer tinted red, but had returned to the pale green color they had been in the cavern. The elf clasped one last rose-colored shard in a hand seared free of skin. As Kham watched, the color faded from the broken crystal.

The elf's expression was slack, Spittle sliding down his cheek. His face was no longer youthful, no longer beautiful, and his hair, once full and fair, now only remained in patches of grungy gray. His lined and withered visage was barely recognizable. Incredibly, his chest still moved. He was alive.

He was also beyond helping anyone do anything, including hirhself.

"Not worth the killing."

Kham spat on him and turned away.

The Weeze was in pretty bad shape, but Kham thought she'd live if he could get her out of the Salish and back to civilization. He trudged up the slope and headed for the trees, figuring he could put some of the brush together into a litter. He wanted to get her out of the pit before anybody came to investigate. Whoever showed up, whether elf or dragon partisan or Salish-Shidhe tribal, wouldn't be interested in being friendly with a couple of wounded and worn-out orks. He found a couple of saplings for poles and pulled them up, feeling the ache in his own tired muscles. It'd be a long walk home. Rooting through the brush for something to tie the poles together, he almost didn't hear the stealthy approach behind him. He spun when he judged the time right, a heavy piece of wood in his hand.

It was the catboy, battered and bedraggled, but alive.

Neko backpedaled away from Kham, tripping over a tangle of sticks, and landing on his rump. Kham's swing missed and only then did he notice that the cat-boy's weapon was slung and his hands empty.

"Drek! Ya ought not do dat ta people. I coulda pulped yer head."

Neko looked up sheepishly. "Sorry. I thought you heard me. I was making enough noise."

"Come on," Kham said, extending a hand. "Get up."

The catboy took the offered hand and Kham lifted him to his feet without effort. When he released Neko, the catboy nearly fell again. Kham saw that he wasn't able to put any weight on his left leg. If it wasn't broken, it was badly sprained. |fl "Hurt bad?" "I will live." ^ "More dan some people can say." "True enough. I saw what you did." "Did ya? Gonna tell yer dragon friend all about it?" "If I had a dragon friend I might. But since I don't…" The catboy left the rest hanging, making a statement without actually saying anything, leaving Kham to guess at just what he meant. Kham wished that for once Neko would just say things straight out. "Still claiming ya aren't working fer da wizworm?"

Still evasive, more like, Kham thought. A crashing sound from Glasgian's earth wall made them turn in its direction. Dust hung in the air around one end, shrouding the figure that was digging its way free from the rubble. Alpha's tribarrel was bent into a corkscrew, useless. The hellion was battered, his chromed armor dented, scratched, and begrimed. But he was still functional, another survivor. As Alpha emerged from the dust, Kham could see that the hellion was in bad shape. Gaps showed the internal workings of his cyberlimbs and he emitted grinding noises and jets of fluid every time" he moved. The tubes that had run into his nose flopped against one shoulder, dribbling a dark fluid. One of his skull plates was dented-deeply. The clashing sound of his movement stopped as he halted and stared at the shattered remains of the crystal.

"He doesn't look very happy," Neko commented drily.

"Well, if ya ain't gonna tell da worm, he's gonna have ta. I wouldn't be happy if I were him." Kham bent back to his work. "Come on, we gotta help The Weeze."

For a time, the only sounds were their own grunts of effort and the rustling of the springy twigs that Neko collected for binding material. They finished the litter as best they could, and began to drag it toward the lip of the deep pit. The broken-toy noises of Alpha's movement started up again, but Kham didn't bother to look; the litter had caught on something. Kham had just worked it loose with Neko's help when the catboy suddenly yelped and dropped his end.

Kham turned in time to see Alpha only a half-dozen meters away and closing. The tribarrel's motor sparked quietly and impotently. Then a clanging sound began as some kind of weapon tried to emerge from a concealed compartment in the hellion's forearm. The clanging stopped and black smoke began to pour from the half-open compartment. Rage burned hotly in the hellion's eyes; there was no mistaking his murderous intent.

"Traitor. Killer. Traitor," Alpha mumbled as he continued his slow-motion-for him-charge. The hellion was on Kham before he could get out of the way.

The ruined tribarrel swung up and Kham instinctively raised an* arm to ward off the blow. Metal crashed down onto his arm, breaking the bone. Pain flared in the limb like a thermite explosion. Wrong arm, stupid! He fell backward into the litter, pinning Neko. Neko yelped as if he felt the pain Kham was holding inside. Feeling the squirming catboy pummeiing him on the shoulder, Kham dimly realized that Neko was feeling his own pain; Kham had fallen on the catboy's injured leg.

The hellion raised the tribarrel for another strike, but Kham managed to roll aside, and the weapon muzzles buried themselves in the dirt. Kham rolled further away and scrambled to his feet, desperately looking around for the rocket launcher. The weapon still had another round when he'd dropped it; it'd be just the thing to stop this homicidal lunatic. If Kham could fire it with only one hand.

"Traitor, killer," the hellion chanted. Despite all the damage Alpha had taken, he was still fast enough to keep up with Kham as he stumbled backward, unwilling to take his eyes off the hellion. But Alpha's reactions were well off from the uncanny responses of which he had been capable when uninjured. Kham managed to dodge the next swipe from Alpha and plant his own metal fist in the hellion's face. Alpha's head rocked back, saved from the full force of Kham's blow by his armored plates.

The hellion tried to encircle Kham with his arms, but Kham dropped and rolled away. He felt the bones in his arm grind, but kept the pain in. It was the price of getting clear. He knew better than to let the metal man get a grip on him; his flesh was no match for the crushing grip of Alpha's cybernetic limbs.

Alpha knew it, too. The hellion pivoted and closed again. Warier this time; he blocked Kham's shots. Still, the hellion wasn't fast enough anymore to launch his own attack and still block Kham's shots. Their fight became a dance: Kham twisting out of the hellion's reach with sudden changes in direction and Alpha shifting to counter each attempt to get past him. Every exchange took more of Kham's waning strength, and he didn't know how long he could keep it up. He was panting and the pain in his arm was starting to make him dizzy.

His hopes of getting off easy vanished when he finally spotted the missile launcher; it lay almost directly behind Alpha. Alpha's limbs were slowed but his brain wasn't. The hellion saw where Kham was looking, and began to herd him further and further away from it. Kham tried shifting the path of his retreat around, but the hellion shifted too, pressing Kham further away from the launcher.

Taking what he thought was his best chance, Kham tried to dart past the hellion as Alpha negotiated a rocky patch of ground. Unfortunately, the cyberguy still had too much speed. Alpha rocked back on one leg and lashed out with the other. The striking limb was stiff, but it had enough power behind it to slam Kham's leg muscles into numbness. He went down.

The hellion was on him instantly, pummeling him with both arms. Kham got his own cyberarm free and slammed a good shot home against the side of Alpha's head, denting the damaged plate further.

That was his chance. Kham started pounding on the plate. If he could warp it enough, get an edge to grip onto, he might be able to rip it away. Without the armor's protection, the hellion would take Kham's blows with real effect. Kham might be able to knock the hellion senseless or, better still, crush the bastard's addled skull.

Alpha pounded him mercilessly. Blows he could have blocked impacted with terrible power. Kham felt a rib go, but he kept on. A seam on the metal man's head plate ruptured, and Kham's fingers locked onto the edge.

At last, Alpha seemed to realize his danger. The ruined tribarrel snapped across and knocked Kham's arm away. But Kham kept his grip, and the armor plate ripped away bloodily. But it was no good. The hellion got Kham's arm pinned against the ground. With the weight of the hellion on him and his only functioning arm trapped, there was nothing Kham could do to exploit the opening he had made.

Alpha lifted his left arm limb above his head, then stopped, blinking. Kham figured the removal of the cyberguy's armor plate had loosened a few connections and, for a moment, he dared think that the hellion might be stunned. Then the cyberguy tilted his head down and stared into Kham's eyes. There was a terrible lucidity in Alpha's eyes.

"You failed the master, trog. That releases me to do what should've been done before." The hellion smiled viciously. "If it weren't for your meddling, Beta and Gamma would still be alive. They were my chummers, trog."

As Alpha cocked back his raised hand, a wide steel blade slid out from his wrist, gleaming faintly in the pre-dawn light. Alpha angled his arm, pointing the tip of his blade toward Kham's throat. "This is for my chummers, trog." Then Alpha's face exploded. The chatter of a submachine gun filled Kham's ears as bits of bone and brain splattered him. Instead of disgusting him, the gory shower brought relief.

He was alive.

It was not Kham, but the hellion who had died. Alpha's arm remained upraised, frozen in place. The razor-edged steel glinted in the starlight, pointing heavenward. Kham's eyes followed the line of the weapon and ended up staring into the night sky.

Was there somebody up there to thank?

Kham let his gaze drift down again and saw that there was indeed somebody to thank down here. Neko stood just beyond Alpha's immobile shoulder. The cat-boy still held his Colt in firing position, aiming at the back of Alpha's skull, at the opening Kham had ripped in the armor plate.

Time slipped back into motion, and Kham watched Neko lower the muzzle of his weapon and eject the empty clip. The fixed expression on the catboy's face softened, slumping down through relief into exhaustion.

Kham heaved at the dead weight pinioning him to the ground. It took great effort to get that weight off him. When he did, he lay exhausted, his strength finally spent. Kham stared at the holes pocking the hellion's back; they were the marks of small-caliber shells that could not penetrate the armor. If Kham hadn't ripped Alpha's skull plate free, Neko's bullets would have been ineffective. And if the catboy hadn't shot the hellion, Kham would have been meat. It had taken the two of them to beat the metal man.

Neko limped over and looked down at him. There was a half-smile on his face, a questioning look. But the catboy said nothing.

"Guess maybe I did figure ya wrong, catboy." "Guess maybe you did." Neko held out a stout stick. "You'll need this for your arm. I'd help you up, but I don't think I can take the extra weight."

"S'okay." Kham got himself painfully to his feet and took the offered stick.

Neko pulled a strap out of his pocket, checked to see that Kham's arm was straight, and started to wrap the splint in place. A little surprised, but definitely pleased, Kham let the catboy bandage the arm. "Da two of us don't look much like winners." "Three of us. There's still The Weeze and we haven't checked on Rabo yet. But winners? This is one time when what you look like doesn't matter. All that matters is that you're still breathing."

Kham looked at Neko and frowned. "Weren't you da one talking about souls ta Harry?"

"If you are still breathing and do not have your soul, you have got no business breathing."

Shaking his head, Kham said, "Maybe someday, catboy."

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe someday I'll figure ya out." But first he had some figuring out to do about himself.

While they dragged the litter down to The Weeze and got her on board, Kham did some of that thinking. He did more as they dragged her to the shelter of the woods, where they did what they could for her before going to check on where the Airstar had crashed. To Kham's immense surprise and relief, they found Rabo alive but pinned among the wreckage. It took their combined strength to pry him loose, but in the end they managed. They even salvaged some medical supplies from the wreck, enough to dull the pain of the two seriously injured orks so that they could sleep. It took them the better part of an hour, but they got themselves away from the nest.

At one point some kind of aircraft passed overhead, but nobody bothered them. Kham was glad. He was in no shape for another tussle. With luck, Rabo would be mobile in a day or two, and the three of them could pack The Weeze out. Till then, they'd make do in the woods.

Mostly the catboy kept quiet. So did the woods. No searchers came looking, or gunning, for them. Kham wondered about that, but he saw no reason to complain.

It gave him some more time to think.

This had been the toughest run he'd ever been knocked around on. Too many people lying to too many other people, manipulating them to their own ends. And he'd fallen into the middle of it because of needing money. Running only for money had driven him straight into the hands of the manipulators. He vowed inwardly that it wasn't a position he'd ever end up in again.

"Ya know, catboy. I'm linking about getting outta da business."

Neko looked him up and down with an evaluating gaze. "Unlikely. You were born to run biz."

"Life's short, catboy. Too short ta waste running somebody else's errands. Dyin' fer dem."

"But you're not really thinking of giving up the shadows, are you? You need their freedom too much."

No, Kham realized. He wasn't thinking about giving up. In fact, he was thinking thoughts entirely too strange. "I got a family, catboy."

"And?"

And what? This run in pursuit of the dream of living longer had revealed sides of himself he'd not paid attention to before. Some of it he liked. There were a lot of feelings bumping up against habits and stray thoughts in his head. Still, a couple of things seemed clear.

"Da suits, even when dey're dragons, wanta own ya. Ain't right. Da only way ta keep 'em from doing dat is ta work fer yerself. Ya gotta stand against 'em, fight 'em when ya have ta, and turn dere plots against 'em every chance ya get."

The catboy gave him that look again. "You make a very ugly David." "David?"

"The shepherd boy with the sling who fought Goliath."

"But he slew da giant and became king when he grew up, didn't he?"

Arching an eyebrow, Neko said softly, as if to himself, "Crown the wise."

Now Neko was talking like the dragon, too. "Don't know dat I can be called any kind of wise."

"Wisdom itself." Neko chuckled. "I suppose it doesn't really matter. What kind of king could you be, anyway? The world has outgrown that sort of thing." What kind of king, indeed? By now Kham had figured that the dragon's proverb wasn't meant to be taken literally. He shrugged. "Magic came back." "So it did."

"Well, it's not like I gotta boss odder people around. Don't know dat I wanta. But I can leastways always rule myself. If I can't beat 'em, at least I'll never bow ta 'em. And sure as fragging hell is hot, I ain't gonna join 'em."

Kham looked down at the diminutive catboy. The Biblical David was a shrimp, too. "Ya gonna keep playing dere games, catboy? Or are ya brighter dan ya look?"