Goodbye cold, goodbye rain
Goodbye sorrow, goodbye shame
I'm headed out west with my headphones on
Boarded a flight with a song in the back of my soul
And no one knows…
Hello beauty, hello strange
Hello wonder, what's your name?
I just found out her ghost left town
The Queen of California is stepping down, down, down…
-Queen of California, John Mayer
Within hours of the battle at the Armoury, Renraku and Mitsuhama had descended on the old Aztechnology Pyramid like the sack of a city. Pyramid Holdings' staff frantically wiped computers and burnt files before their ejection by a small army of security. Mesoamerican frescos were scraped away, to be replaced by art-deco or Japanese prints. The Japanacorps announced that the pyramid would be a jointly-owned facility, symbolising the Yamato spirit of feudal discipline and cooperation. As they began their silent struggle for the many sub-companies formerly controlled through Pyramid Holdings.
In Tenochtitlan, the shadowy board of directors for Aztechnology voted to cut their losses in San Francisco. They retained a paper holding company, as a base for their eventual return, but effectively abandoned their remaining assets. They focused instead on using their continent spanning Trid network, and legendary PR machine, to blazon abroad the news of the moment. How four triple-A Megacorps and Saito's Marines had nearly had their prize city blasted from under their feet, by a single mad, magic-wielding troll terrorist.
The Ghosts had recorded all their conversations with Shavarus, audio and video. With no hope of covering up the incident entirely, Tir's spymasters dropped some footage onto the net–editing out any sign that Shavarus hadn't acted alone. If the troll had accused them, they could have simply released the tape of him pleading for his life, and destroyed him. But the prevailing idea was to cut the troll Mage loose, to cause the Japanese occupation further damage and embarrassment.
The Japanacorps insisted that San Francisco was the most lawful, safe and clean out of any city in Calfree, if not North America. As they arranged for Colonel Saito to receive the Military Merit Badge, for his swift and gallant suppression of the late metahuman riots. Saito faced the camera drones with silent dignity, as his troops tore across the whole peninsula, to the thrum of Hind rotorcraft overhead. On seeing the evidence that a trog Mage had not only come close to devastating his city but escaped without trace, he had begun in screaming rage and ended in impotent tears. The Japanacorp directors had reacted more stoically, but with scarcely less rage. The capture and public execution of the trog terrorist was priority one–along with any confederates who had aided his escape.
A week later, a bubbly San Franciscan native and a digital ork dropped a clip of unredacted footage from the Armoury, which a Tir agent had carelessly left on a CalFree intelligence network. High Prince Lugh Surehand himself made a public statement, that Tir's daring special forces had indeed been operating in the Baysprawl, investigating the threat posed by the mad troll Shavarus. Anything that suggested a different story was the result of digital manipulation by unscrupulous shadowrunners, very possibly in the pay of the Japanacorps. It took a prince of elves to sell such a story, but it was generally accepted–an alliance between the insular Tir elves and a trog Mage was rather unbelievable. Not that the rest of North America had any more love or pity for trogs, or San Francisco's metahumans, after hearing of the mass destruction that Shavarus had planned. The metas had been effectively removed from the City to Oakland, or even further afield, within a month, and violence between the Marines and MPA continued without pause. Sarah's part in the Armoury incident, like those of Arai and Takahashi, was barely heard of by anybody.
But the Shadows heard–the story spread out from Calfree like an earthquake–that the wit and grit of a few long-struggling shadowrunners had saved the Baysprawl, while Megacorps and armies stood powerless. The story had international intrigue, a mad, monstrous troll, a marvellous deliverance, epic romance–and video footage. SeeräuberJenny, Hotspur and Ilsa Tresckow were the names on every Shadownet thread, heard in every Runner's bar–and they supposedly did what in Seattle, Hong Kong, Berlin and Alpha Base? If a quarter of the stories were true–the Shadows spoke it, in a millions posts and whispers–three undoubtable Prime Runners had joined the ranks of Dodger, Argent and Ghost Who Walks. They would either change the world forever, or be dead within the year.
-0-
The celebrations at club Eclipse went on for three days, though it was the third day before Ilsa Tresckow had recovered sufficiently to limp down to the dance floor. DJ Omphalous had cranked up her most thrumming mixes. Pillars of holographic fire ringing the room. And hundreds of partygoers–Runners and metas, SINless and citizens–cavorted for joy that they and their city were still alive. After the scars of the uprising, with an indefinite future ahead, San Francisco had needed a shameless party to bring it together again. Escaping terrorist destruction was a very welcome spice.
Kali had actually taken up her microphone again. She and Susan were on stage, belting through her own 40's megahit 'The sky's no limit'. Susan certainly couldn't sing without autotune, but she'd loved Kali's songs in her teens, and still knew the words. She'd found her SeeräuberJenny split-jeans and crop top as well. Ilsa hadn't seen her smile like the heart of sunrise for months, as she tossed her ponytail and pumped her fist.
Harry, in the crowd, was practically fighting off would-be groupies with a stick. He didn't look too unhappy, either–thought that was nothing to his grin, unmarred by a trace of shame or fear, when Susan dived off the stage into his arms. He collapsed under her, but they took the chance to hungrily make out on the floor, to uproarious cheers, before getting up for a dance. They were both as battered with wounds as Ilsa, even after express-delivery medkits, so they stuck to a simple slow sway. Gazing from dark eyes to brown, grinning like triumphant idiots, loving each other even more than the crowd loved them. Heroes love like fairytales, love like legends. The crowd believed in it, and so did they.
"Almost makes you want to meet someone special yourself, don't it just?" Anya mused to Ilsa through her PDA, "Even if I've got Dad, and I had Kenji. You've got your guy…"
"Yes. I suppose I have."
After the uprising, the People's University had voted to take its program of survival and empowerment education completely online. Physical meetings were too vulnerable to Marine raids and informers; it was a logical decision. Ilsa would have continued her magic classes with the help of a decker. Her boyfriend Henry, however, was staying in Halferville, the dwarf enclave under Caldicott. Dr Henry Chambers had never got on with the Matrix and couldn't stay any longer in a city of disunity. He'd tried for years, but there was no peace or safety, now he just wanted to finish writing his Civil War history in an underground fortress.
He hadn't proposed that Ilsa join in him in Halferville–she could tell he had never expected a brilliant shadowrunner, half his age, to stay with him forever. Ilsa would be moving in with him in Halferville, just to make a point (and to get out of town), but she didn't know for how long she'd be hitting her head on five-foot ceilings.
She had spent months teaching deprived metahumans, and then she'd threatened to kill a man in front of his lover, to save her own life. She'd known she'd never have to pull the trigger, the decision had been correct, no stupid risks…but what would Jo and her parents have thought she was, if they'd seen her? A hero? What had Susan thought? Nietzsche said she shouldn't care, but she did… she needed to talk to Henry, and she needed to think.
"MISS TRESCKOW! This party is like, officially novahot, and you're looking hot, as usual!" Hailey, smile undimmed, sashayed out of the crowd, "What did you, like, eat to get that figure?"
"Red meat, on occasions?" Hailey made a face, "And I think you can call me Ilsa…chummer."
Hailey was wearing a biker jacket, a white minidress and fishnets; she had her fifth glass of synthol in hand and looked a little pink. Ilsa hadn't found anything in her sickroom upstairs to replace her bloodied pantsuit, except a green floor-length gown. Which looked stunning on her, she had to admit.
"I heard Tarne, you know…didn't make it." Hailey smiled sadly, "He was a good guy…it's all such a waste. I think his mother's emigrating to Tir, and so are Voire's parents. Voire got through the uprising and all that…I think he's somewhere in Oakland, still fighting his dumb fight."
"I see. While you will be working for Kali?"
"Oh yeah, but just to pay the bills! She won't mind me, like, sharpening my skills on real shadowruns and stuff! Also, me and Anya found this back door into the Calfree government's network. I want to fill the node with all the evidence we can get of Saito's crimes and awful abuses. Then maybe Sacramento will even withdraw the invitation to the Imperial State, from the '36 wars! Then we can actually start healing–and I want to spend more time with my folks too! They've never really been comfortable with metahumans, you know? We all need to change, not just the big bullies like Saito."
"Everyone changes but you, girl genius?" Anya's voice from the PDA had a smile in it.
Ilsa couldn't personally believe in Hailey's hope-fuelled schemes, or imagine that Anya did. Maybe the digital ork just liked spending time with her, which was hopeful enough in itself.
-0-
"…everything you dreamt of, tiger?"
Susan snuggled all the way up to Harry as 'White Flag' came on for the third time. She'd wanted to drag him off to the nearest cupboard after the first one, through the dizzying heat and human musk. She seemed to feel every muscle in his lean body, and how desperately he wanted her…it was a little frightening, but she wasn't afraid.
"Better." Harry whispered, breathing in his girl's comforting scent of fire and sweat, "We saved the day, kicked out the Azzies…but this must be the one city that throws parties for Runners. And you're the queen of it."
"Well you saved the city, and I really am going to own it!" Kali crowed at them, downing another glass of champagne, "That's what this shindig is for, really. The Japanacorps have always blocked mid-sized business expansion, with the Marines if they had to. Now they're chasing that mad trog all over the countryside, I can use that huge commission I got from the Pyramid Run to buy up land all over! And the level of opportunity at Mitsuhama–the sky's no limit! Finally, Eclipse is going up and up!"
She toasted herself with the empty glass. The triumphant music mogul finally had time to dance and sing–Susan suspected she'd never been so happy for years and wouldn't be for some time to come.
"About huge sums of money–?"
"Oh? We're going to discuss something sordid as payment, before the party's even over? A team of Mission kids are spraying an eight-foot fresco of you both on the side of the Armoury right now, did you know? I've lost count of the tribute songs; rock, rap and metal. That Asian girl right there is home-printing tee-shirts, with the shadow of a ponytail Kung Fu chick."
"Don't I get a tee shirt?" Harry sighed.
"You'd get to bed half the girls here, if you weren't taken." Susan smacked Harry between the shoulders, for good measure, as Kali chattered on, "As for your nakama, Ilsa, I think some of her fans are working on an amateur net-film. This is a city of dreamers and artists, and all of them know you saved all of it. There would have been survivors if Hetch Hetchy had fallen, but the city itself would have died. With Saito still stamping down on it, San Francisco needed a victory to go on; it needed a hero. And I suppose it likes having a kick-ass, idol-singer, undefeated Kung Fu girl."
"Well, thanks. But we lost or totalled three or four cars, in about two days of burning medkits…we need the fragging money."
"Well…I hope you weren't planning on retirement. You were due a very substantial sum, but with delays, and all my work to pull your hoops out at the Embarcadero…big-ish, perhaps?"
"Kali, old chummer, old pal…" Susan met Kali's bright, fake smile with a sincere and scary one, "How are SeeräuberJenny's songs downloading right now? We're due a cut of that money, aren't we? I'm sure there's some small print in my contract about running off to save the day without notice–but what would all our fans think, if they found out you'd sent us away with a fistful of nyuyen?"
Kali compressed her lips, but mirth twinkled on the surface of her shark-hard eyes.
"Very well. We'll see about that cut. Chip truth, though? It really doesn't pay to be famous for shadowrunners. Rich and crazy fanboys force you into impossible Black Runs. No one normal will risk the heat to hire you, and you're hiding from endless old enemies with a siren strapped to your head. Saito has you down as Shavarus' stooges, for letting him go. The Tir, the Triads, the MPA, and Shavarus himself, of course, are all gunning for you. Perhaps you could rent a private army, and start on the real bigtime? No one leaves the Shadows, remember? You can't get off this train."
Before the evening ended, a dozen girls told Susan they'd taken up martial arts. A scarred young Runner with haunted eyes exchanged stories with her, and finally said that she was going to keep on fighting. An ork girl said she was going to stay in Oakland and help her people, instead of moving on or giving up. All of them wished her every happiness with Harry, only with a trace of envy–who could possibly be happy, if not the heroes of the hour? But all Susan could think of was the squad of marines, or Triad hitmen, who could burst into the club at any time and cut through all these people to get to her throat.
-0-
"Salutations, my dear ambassador! Yes, we salute, applaud and congratulate you, for your heroic defence of our city from the treason of Shavarus!"
Ilsa actually smiled as she turned to the Emperor Norton, ruler of Calfree and Protector of Aztlan. His uniform looked even more battered by his flight from Colma, but not much more strange or gaudy than some of the younger revellers' costumes. Norton bore himself as assuredly along the edge of the dancefloor as anywhere else at all, observing the technicolour lights and entwining couples with impenetrable benevolence. Ilsa found herself dropping a curtsey, as did Hailey.
"Miss Tresckow." Orion inclined his head. He had come in behind the Emperor, a watchful escort, along with Bertha, the ork huntress from Colma. Somehow, the indomitable ork Adept looked younger than he had.
"Is it safe for you to be here, your majesty?"
"Our dignity is our shield, and all California is our realm! I was advised that our former seat in Colma may not be so auspicious a place for us as another, and so our loyal and worthy friends have made possible our return to San Francisco. The energy and spirit of rebuilding that we sense pleases us greatly! I have promulgated degrees forbidding public disorder and commending tolerant brotherhood already, to a most gratifying response! Saito shall be banished from our lands, never to return, though any of his soldiery who wish to gather under our august banner will be most welcome. I confess that the comforts of the city do, perhaps, befit my dignity and years more than the open field. Madam Kali has offered us a tribute of room and board, in return for a remittance of her Imperial taxes, as long as my destiny permits me to remain here."
Ilsa had a vision of Kali charging the punters 50 nyuyen apiece to shake hands with an Emperor, and selling Norton coffee mugs in the lobby of Eclipse. Still, she saw that Norton was happily acknowledging the warm greetings of a good many San Franciscans. She found herself wondering whether he spoke about a spirit of rebuilding with more than natural insight.
(A shaman contact, to whom Ilsa later described the Emperor, hypothesised possession by a Free Spirit, that had also slipped into the Fifth World to settle on the original Norton. A potent, alien, hopelessly confused intelligence, bent on rule and kingship without understanding anything else in the world? Certainly, it had given the old man far more than it took; his madness kept him sane, as the shaman said)
As Hailey eagerly questioned Norton about what exactly a real-life Emperor did, Ilsa caught Orion's eye.
"Again, is it safe for him to be here?"
"Safer than Colma." Orion grated, stoic as ever, "The Marines are scouring the peninsular for Shavarus, Colma crawls with them–but away from Colma, alone and harmless, Norton may end his days in peace. The Marines will leave Colma, and not return–but we will. We will live there again, with families and children, in spite of all that men do."
"We?"
"You know you are addressing the Castellan of Colma, Miss Ambassador?" Bertha cut in, grinning tuskily and rolling her eyes, "His Emperorship has appointed this guy to take care of Norton's Army while he's gone."
"Indeed." Orion's mouth twitched; he did look younger, "A self-sustaining metahuman commune will be a most welcome place to finish my book, and a very great deal more. The lessons I hope to learn, and then what we might build together…a path and a guide, which will transform the metahuman slums of Oakland and Redmond into communities. United against the world, there is nothing the ork cannot achieve."
"Are you still thinking of militant action? Am I looking at the next Shavarus?"
Bertha spluttered in rage at Ilsa's challenge, but Orion considered it with uncanny calm, even for him.
"I sympathise with Shavarus' aims, but not his methods. To cloak oneself in schemes and conspiracies makes it impossible to convey a message or build a movement. It will be a movement of the people that brings Saito down; fighters, mothers, workers and artists. We must fight, to protect the innocent, but human hegemony will never be overthrown by huge terrorist plots. The ork will not finally overcome by violence, but through love."
"What–? Oh. You mean, orks breed faster than humans."
"Yes." Orion's smile was marred by bitterness, but full and indestructible, "In spite of violence, in spite of disease, or any targeted bioweapon you may resort to–we will find and destroy it–the ork is stronger than man. I bear the majority of humans no ill will, but we will supplant you one day, as surely as humanity replaced the Neanderthal. So, you have nothing more to fear from Norton's Army. We only desire to be left in peace."
"…my boyfriend, Dr Chambers, hoped once that humans and metas could live in peace together."
"A noble sentiment, but a vain one at this time. A time may come…and time is what you have now to work with."
"Frag, things got heavy for a minute there!" Bertha pulled Orion's arm into her thick bosom, "Now, what were you saying about love?"
"I hardly meant…that chapter of my life is past…"
"This is a fragging party, mister." Bertha insisted, "You saved us all when we had to run from our home, and you're the finest guy in this place. Just one drink, and a dance?"
Not a young ork, she was still younger than Orion–but life blazed from her eyes as she pulled the stunned Adept away. Ilsa shook her head, then put her PDA to her ear again.
"Dad settling down in Colma. How do I feel?" Anya gave a metallic sigh, "If he had a datajack, I could fragging brainwash him…or we could take some time apart, until they scrounge up a wireless receiver so we can talk out there. He's not going to live forever, especially kicking hand grenades about…I need somebody else, and so does he. Hailey talked about some decker friends in the People's University. If we don't tell them I'm AI…make some links, find something to do, like you said."
"I honestly hope that is possible…I'm sorry, Anya. You sound lonely."
"Heh. You ever wonder why so many A.I. go crazy?"
"Are you troubled, Anya?" Orion whispered into the mic hanging from his earpiece, as Bertha got their drinks, "There is no one I want to hold but you, right now…do you know that I will always love you?"
He hadn't heard what she'd told Ilsa, but he'd sensed it. Anya's voice expressed more than anything synthetic should have done.
"It's alright, Dad. Love you too. I'll always be your girl."
-0-
Lieutenant Arai had not joined the Marines to get parties thrown in his honour, which was just as well. There was no one else by Takahashi's bedside; the rest of their unit had been killed by the Tir.
(Except for the female marine the Runners had saved; who'd hidden as the few men left in the restaurant were wiped out. Everyone expected her to quit the Marines, but she meant to keep fighting until she died with honour, or went crazy)
There was also a military policeman, stood at ease by the door. After Saito's distrust of magic had been traumatically borne out by the city's near destruction, the colonel had ordered all his own magical assets put under close surveillance, for a start. Arai strongly desired to punch the MP out, but then he would have been in the stockade when his love opened his eyes.
"….anata. Did we…?"
"Yes. We protected this city."
"My hero." Takahashi's smile was very pure. Arai bowed his head over the hand he held, "What about the Runners? The trog girl?"
"They took care of themselves. I will take care of you, I swear…I will protect you."
After some discussion, Takahashi said that he wanted to get out of the Marines, in view of his injuries and Saito's new anti-magic policy. Arai hesitated–the Marines had been his life–but he finally decided to leave himself, before they were both arrested for letting Shavarus escape.
"And then, we see the world together?"
"That was why we joined the Marines, Taka-chan."
"Oh yes. We saw CalFree...but what does Saito-san see?"
Arai's need to hold his love and kiss his fears away was fierce. Takahashi saw through his hard, samurai eyes to it. He drew in a breath and asked the question.
"Anata. After this...can we be together, truly? No more hiding, no more distance, only us, everyday...?"
"Hai. Until death do us part."
Arai got down on one knee. The MP thought little of it. Bonds of fellowship between fighting men were highly respected by the Imperial Japanese Marines.
-0-
Back at Eclipse, DJ Omphalous had actually dug out the epically shmaltzy 80's ballad, 'Glory of Love', from Karate Kid. Even Susan and Harry had been embarrassed enough to leave the dancefloor, quietly disposing of their drinks. They'd been bought enough synthol to down three trolls, but Susan had always been a fitness freak, never a heavy drinker. Harry would never be one again, and tonight they wanted to savour the pure drug of triumph, together. After some intimate conversation they emerged at the edge of the room, near to Ilsa, Hailey, Orion and Emperor Norton.
Susan threw her arms out to Ilsa; after a moment they embraced without words. She hugged Hailey too; Harry risked giving the young decker a peck on the cheek.
"Miss Lei. Sir Hotspur. We welcome you, in your hour of triumph."
Paternal gladness shone from Norton's eyes, as Susan happily dipped her head. Orion murmured that he'd always known she had it in her.
"Glad you're safe too, your majesty! And Orion, my shifu–but what about the dogs?"
"Bummer and Lazarus are reclining in the entryway downstairs, I believe. Living off the fat of the land, as is their habit…" Susan grinned in relief, as Norton rambled on, "…but, more importantly! We must confer titles befitting your dauntless gallantry upon you both! You may kneel."
Looking as solemn as they could, Harry and Susan knelt. Hailey was frantically snapping photos with her PDA.
"By the power invested in us, by Eternal Nature and the will of the great American People, we dub thee Lord and Lady of the Mission. You will be responsible for her peoples' welfare, and you shall share in their triumphs. Now go forth and let all the people praise your names!"
"Your majesty. There was one further, ah, boon, we wanted to ask…" Face burning, Harry threw out the words of his heart, "CanEmperorsdoweddings? Like, now?"
"…was?"
Ilsa put her hand on her eyes. Hailey–and Anya, watching through the security cams–burst into tears. Still on her knees, Susan threw herself against Harry with a glorious sunrise smile.
"But of course!" Norton barely seemed surprised, "A fitting end to this tale of love and heroics, striving and restoration! I trust that your happiness will be blessed!"
"Ah, do we not a marriage license need...?" Ilsa was even forgetting English grammar in her shock.
"Done! One wedding license, from the City Hall netsite!" Hailey waved her PDA, "Of course, with fake SINs it's not a legal wedding, but, like, it's the marriage that counts…" She collapsed in tears again.
"Susan, are you getting married dressed like that?"
"I'll throw on some armour. Soldiers get married in uniform, and could you see me in a dress?"
"Very well then, but where…?"
"For a modest fee, you can use the small licensed chapel upstairs." Kali butted in, "I had it put in for any drunken sararimen who want to get hitched with barmaids. Speaking of hasty decisions, are you both quite sure–?"
Harry and Susan were sure. They had waited and fought, failed and forgiven. Through the shadows they had found their true selves in each other, and all that they'd ever wanted. After years together in the Barrens, after the hard, bloody years apart, they were going on their next adventure together. Defying death itself to ever part them again.
"Well then," Kali wiped her eyes, "Gambatte Kudasai, both of you."
Norton (ordained online within five minutes) contrived an unconventional, extensive ceremony out of his own head. Hailey insisted on being a bridesmaid, Ilsa peremptorily refused. Orion stood quietly by, more happy than sad. Harry fidgeted during Norton's longer speeches and feasted on Susan with his eyes. As she squeezed his hand and heard the singing from the dancefloor, from all the people they'd saved.
"Shadowrunners in love." Harry whispered to her, "It was always hopeless. Always perfect. I loved you from the start, Susan, I'm sorry for–"
"Never mind that. Didn't I take too long to get it, that I always loved you? My best friend and my husband…whatever we deserve, we're going to be happy as we fragging well can."
"As you wish, my lady."
Susan laughed in the middle of her own wedding. Harry's eyes shone with fearless life. Their hearts beat harder than any battle, as they shared a sweet kiss. It felt more like their first than their first one had.
Later, in a bedroom with a deadlock, well away from the windows, Susan finally fell against the wall inside the door and Harry fell on her. She pulled off her top, his mouth marked her shaking breasts with fire–
Susan was still afraid. That it might not measure up to her dreams. That she wouldn't measure up to Harry's idolising devotion, or so many other eager, experienced women. She would beat them all, with practise, but she had to be perfect tonight…even as the old nightmares still touched her and chilled.
The Halloweeners in Redmond. All that drek with the Agency. Shavarus. She had fought so long, been hurt without mercy–but for her husband, for their love, she would fight for what she wanted so much.
A very little later still...Harry had been more tender and attentive than she could have dreamed of. But it was his passion she had loved first and always, that had conquered every fear or shame in pouring love. As she howled for joy and salvation, as he nuzzled the nape of her neck and wept out her name...
When overmastering pleasure had allowed her to see or think of anything, Susan saw Harry staring at the bloodstain on the carpet. She rested her head on his knees. Reached up and stroked his smooth cheek, as he hung his head.
"Love, I hurt you. Again. Frag, I'm so sorry–"
"Of course it hurt, silly man! My first time." She was crying happy tears, "No one could take it from me. What I'd only ever give to you."
-0-
In a basement somewhere in Oakland, as if Orion's words about building a movement had reached him, Shavarus was haranguing a meeting of metahumans; resist the tyranny of Saito by any imaginable means. By violence, slander, disobedience, sabotage–there was no longer any grand plan, but his oratory whipped exhaustion into a smouldering flame. The troll Mage loomed like a dark stormcloud, seemingly unchanged and eternal. His eyes gleamed with mad lightning.
(Sarah had walked out of Eclipse as soon as she could walk, before Susan had recovered enough strength to stop her, but not to Shavarus. She'd left the message with Kali that she needed to think, train, roam the earth or whatever the frag Adepts did on their own. She roamed as far as a Shadows bar in Oakland, and told a Fixer she'd take any job)
A certain Sam Blankenship, a respected Oakland community leader, had intended to speak for peace at the meeting; where had violence gotten them, against Saito's Marines? However, he had been shot dead outside his soup kitchen the day before. The Marines were blamed by his grieving colleagues, though the finger on the trigger had actually been Lowri Greenwood, the Ghosts' sniper.
As Tir Ghost Rowan tapped away on his cyberdeck, Desorn made a call from the safehouse to the elvish mistress of IJM Colonel Itami. His warning was that Itami had been advocating a conciliatory policy in the Baysprawl, but would be shortly found to have been passing intelligence to Tir and discharged in disgrace.
"…excuse me?" The gorgeous blonde spy huffed, "Dear Yoji has been passing intelligence to Tir, albeit unwittingly–he's my prize source! Do you military types appreciate a long-term espionage network's cost or value at all?"
"We do. The Council of Princes, to whom we report, do also. The long term for Calfree, however, is no longer their concern."
After disconnecting the call, Desorn informed Greenwood that Itami's mistress had gone native, and had to be killed before she revealed to Itami what Desorn had hinted at.
"War, in a year or less. The Land of the Promise will shed its transfiguring light on Calfree, as it will one day cover over the grey, vile world of man."
"What about the Runners?" The Ghost sniper whined, grinning and rocking on her heels, "No one beats the Ghosts and lives to tell tales."
"We must rebuild our presence in the Baysprawl first–but our comrades shall be avenged. We will find them, and we will kill them."
-0-
The day after their wedding, the newlywed Runners were spotted booking into the Bayfront Hilton, for one evening, before a midnight flight to LA. To all appearances, still the happiest couple in the world, with only one thought for the night between them.
Ten minutes later, elite Yellow Lotus assassins kicked in the door of their hotel suite. Sent by Kindly Cheng herself, they had traced Hotspur from Seattle, had thirsted for some really creative violence…and were understandably outraged to find the suite empty.
That was before Captain Mori's IJM special forces squad crashed through the window.
"You're under arrest, criminal scum! Aku Soku Zan!"
The lead assassin wanted to ask how the marines could arrest them for an assassination they themselves had aimed to commit, but elected to fling a full-strength Acid Bolt instead.
-0-
"…we've driven Hotspur from Hong Kong, from Seattle, and now from San Francisco. The elf shaman, Glenn Owens, is probably hiding in a Tibetan cave. It is no stain on our honour to call time on the hunt for these shadowrunners."
"The shitbird beat us in Hong Kong, in Seattle, and in fucking San Francisco!" Kindly Cheng hissed through rotten teeth, "We need to mount his head on a tall building, with his stinking tool in his own mouth!"
The Yellow Lotus' Deputy Mountain Master gave Kindly Cheng a look, and she shut up. She was queen of the Heoi floating slum–but the Lotus' real leaders could burn down her kingdom around her ears with a nod.
"Do you know why the Red Dragon Triad has not exterminated us, Madam Cheng, even with Wuxing and the Great Dragon Lung in their corner? Because we would fight tooth and nail, killing more of them than they wish to lose. As we are to the Red Dragons…so these most irritating shadowrunners are to us."
The other Yellow Lotus bosses around the table glanced at the Deputy and decided he would not live to see the new year, after that comment. Tough at the top, at the bottom, in the middle…
The vid-conference screen winked out, and Kindly Cheng turned back to her quiet, unchanging mah-jong parlour. She still didn't dare to curse the bosses, so she cursed Hotspur with remarkable venom and ingenuity. Until her comm chirped.
The message was a photo of Hotspur, grinning like a schoolboy. With his arm around Susan Lei, glancing at the camera as she kissed his cheek.
Dear Kindly Cheng. We've never met, but you put my man through a lot of drek in Hong Kong. Only, now he's married to me, you're never even going to touch us. When I'm as venerable as you, in about ten thousand years, we'll have about ten thousand children, and he'll still make me the happiest girl in the world each day. You will still be a twisted, alcoholic monster; so miserable, you'd be happier dead. For Douglas, Fyrefox, Owens and Roller–burn in the sixth hell of greed, you foul old witch.
"I'LL SEE YOU THERE!" Cheng howled, flinging her comm against the wall, "I'LL SEE YOU BOTH IN HELL, SHITBIRDS!"
"I'll get on a plane, tonight." Nightjar, her troll minion, squeezed her shoulder gently, "Kill them both, for you."
"…it doesn't matter. Idiots. Just…sing for me, Nightjar?"
-0-
"…so, Ilsa, how's Halferville?"
"There are caverns that make the Kraków salt mine cathedral look like a hole in the ground. Very romantic. The dwarf-sized tunnels, less so."
"If Sarah gets in touch, call me. I'll come running." Susan shifted on her toes, glancing down the shadowed pre-dawn street, "Are you okay?"
"Perhaps. Perhaps I shouldn't be. Henry has been very understanding. He's a good man."
"Ilsa, whatever happens on Runs, or with guys, we're always going to be chummers. Okay?"
"The way you say it, I can just about believe."
Susan smiled as she put her comm away. Before Ilsa they'd called Harry's mother–they'd had to, whatever the risks–to tell her that her only son had saved a city and gotten hitched. She'd been less surprised than joyful. Susan had done the talking; Harry still wore a mildly stunned expression.
"...it's sinking in, I guess, love. I never knew what to say to Mom, back in Redmond...she worked those grim, drekky bar jobs every day, while I was dreaming of shadowruns. I guess we always went our separate ways."
"You both had to be strong on your own; it was Redmond. With her shelter, with what you've done for me, you've both done alright. Tough as loving a shadowrunner is, she's proud of you as I am, Harry, and she knows how you feel without you saying it."
"How did I ever live without you?"
Less than an hour later, they were on the street and ready to run. They had a new Mustang offroad bike from Kali's dealer, a full bank balance at last, and hearts that would never fail. There were marines spreading over the farmlands as well as the city; even when they'd got out of Saito's territory, Tir Taingire would never stop hunting them. Still, they felt like they could live forever if they just kept moving.
"You can really handle motorbikes too?"
"From a Run where we escaped on bikes. Right along the edge of Victoria Peak–"
"Thought it was always rotorcraft." Susan kissed Harry's neck, straddled the bike, locked her arms round his waist, "Where are we going again?"
"Somewhere we've never been. Together."
"Into another fight, I bet. Still, we're Shadowrunners. We can do anything. You were so right about us, Harry Fawkes."
Harry kicked the bike into gear. His eyes were bright, feasting on the road ahead. Susan's ponytail fluttered beneath her helmet, as they roared off into the night. Away from San Francisco, heading East into the valley. Chasing another sunrise.
She used to meet me on the Eastside
In the city where the sun don't set,
And every day you know that we'd ride
Through the streets in a blue Corvette.
Baby, you know I just wanna leave tonight
We can go anywhere we want
Drive down to the coast, jump in the sea
Just take my hand and come with me…
We can do anything if we put our minds to it
Take your whole life, then you put a line through it
My love is yours if you're willing to take it
Give me your heart 'cause I ain't gonna break it
So come away, starting today
Start a new life together in a different place
We know that love is how all these ideas came to be
So come on, run away with me…
-Eastside, Blanco, Halsey & Khalid