Sam was dazed, seeing the last few moments over and over again. He watched the guard turn, a puzzled expression on his face. No fear. No concern. Just puzzlement. Then the brown eyes had widened, focused on the slivergun.
“He seemed to see the gun.”
Sally spat a string of syllables that sounded like a curse and stamped her foot.
“He should have seen it as a tool. The intent wasn’t focused right. Since the slivergun wasn’t something you were used to, the intent couldn’t cover it as well.”
“It’s done now, Sally,” Ghost said in a placatory tone as he moved to check the body.
“I shot him,” Sam said. He felt numb.
“Don’t worry, chummer,” Kham said. “De corp will never know who did it.”
“But he’s dead,” Sam protested.
“Nope,” Ghost contradicted. “But he will be-without attention. If he gets that while we’re here, we’ll be dead.”
“Let’s finish and go.” Sally’s voice was brittle.
They went back to work, leaving Sam to stare at his victim.
The fallen guard looked young, not much older than Sam. A life cut short because a magic spell hadn’t done what it was supposed to do and because a foolish, scared Sam had panicked. It didn’t seem right.
This guard wasn’t some thrill-seeker from the streets. He wasn’t even one of the faceless Red Samurai, hardened to the harsh realities of life. This was just a kid, doing his job. He had even tried to protect Sally, assuming she belonged to the company and that only Sam was the intruder. What a foolish irony.
Why had Sam taken a gun from the runners? It had seemed unlikely he’d need it. Had he needed it? Whether or not, he had used it. The result lay at his feet.
How could good intentions have led him to this?
Some infinite time later, Sam became aware that Ghost was talking to him. He blinked, realizing that he was no longer in the Computer Systems Research Center. Somehow the runners had gotten him to the car pool on sub-level F. It was supposed to be their last stop inside the arcology. The Elf was to have arranged an assignment for a vehicle to take them away.
“Come on, paleface. Listen to me,” Ghost was saying. “The Elf has put in an emergency call for the guard. They’ll take care of him. Are you satisfied?”
“Satisfied?” Sam’s voice seemed distant, as if someone else were speaking. “I need to know if he’ll be all right.”
“Not likely.”
“You go on. I’ve got to go back and find out. You’ve done what you needed to do for your reps. You don’t need me anymore. Go on. Leave me here.”
“We ain’t leaving you behind to raise de troops.” Kham growled.
“I won’t,” Sam protested.
“You’re right,” the Ork said, aiming his HK227 directly at Sam’s belly. “Cause you’re sticking with us.”
Sam looked to Sally and Ghost, but their eyes were cold. Ghost plucked away the slivergun that had somehow found its way back into Sam’s holster. Sam hung his head and let himself be led along.
As the van they had liberated pulled onto Western Avenue, Sam heard the wailing of a siren in the sky above. He rocked his head back and caught a glimpse of a DocWagon sky ambulance banking around the arcology, bound for one of the landing pads. He wondered if it was in time to do any good.
Fragments of sensations and images touched him through the daze into which he had retreated. A dimly lit building and a grubby pile of white coveralls vanishing into a trash incinerator. Hashes of shadow and light. The Ork’s stink. The howl of a siren. Wind lashing his face and the throb of a powerful engine beneath his seat.
Abruptly, he was aware that the wind and the hammering pulse of the engine had stopped. He was seated behind Kham, the Scorpion’s roar muted now to an idle rumble. They were somewhere in the Barrens.
“Dis is where you get off, Verner.”
Sam swung his leg over the hog to stand in the midst of the three mounted shadowrunners. He faced Sally.
“What about the others? Will you release them now?”
It was Ghost who answered. “They’ve been on their own for half an hour. Should be reaching the arcology about now if they weren’t afraid to take the Third Avenue bus through Orktown.”
“What about you, Verner?” Sally asked softly. “Going to follow them back to Renraku?”
“Of course,” Sam responded automatically, “I work for the corporation.”
Kham stifled a guffaw. Sally lashed him with a frown and turned her eyes on Sam. “That might be a foolish move.”
“I don’t think so. I am confident they’ll understand.”
“It’s your funeral,” the Ork bellowed, revving his hog and roaring away into the night.
“Good luck,” Sally called as she gunned her Rapier and screamed in the same direction the Ork had taken.
“You are very loyal, paleface. I hope they deserve it.” Ghost tossed Sam the slivergun. “You might need this to get home, but I suggest you find it a nice trash compactor before you meet any badges.”
The Amerindian’s Rapier squealed as the tires fought to grab the pavement, then it sped away, chasing the echoes of the others.
Sam was alone on the street save for a mangy mutt scrounging scraps among the garbage and rats. Laying the gun between his feet, he sat on the curb.
He stared at it for a long time before realizing he had company. The mongrel had abandoned its search to sit beside him. It, too, looked at the gun.
“Don’t you know what to do, either?”
The dog whined and tried to lick Sam’s face.
“I haven’t got any food for you.”
The animal’s tail thumped the pavement, dismissing the gross oversight. Sam stood and so did the dog. It skipped down the Street a few meters, then stopped.
“Shall I run the streets with you, then?”
The dog cocked its head.
“No. Not tonight. Life in the shadows doesn’t seem to be for me.”
Sam turned in the direction he guessed would take him back to friendlier parts of Seattle. The glow in the night sky promised that he had made the right choice, He had taken only a dozen steps when the dog trotted to his side.
“Coming with me?”
The dog yipped.
“Well, friend,” Sam said, as the dog began to pace him. “Loyalty is no easy virtue. But I suppose that doesn’t frighten you. You will be true to your nature, after all.”