"Along the way, 'Stelle tried to teach me some magic. I really gave her a hard time. I was still so freaked out about it. I mean, I saw Estelle and her friends do magic, and it wasn't that scary when they did it, but every time I tried to learn to do something, all I could think about was the priest yelling about how the devil had my soul and how my father looked at me like I was something . . . something disgusting to him." Tears ran down Val's cheeks, and Talon was tempted to reach out and brush them away, but he stayed where he was, listening to her story.
"I got more and more into the rigging side of things; learning to drive just about anything, working with the border runners to bring in supplies for the black market, dodging patrols and having a blast. I lived for the rush of it, and knowing I was doing some good. Eventually, I decided to use the cred and the contacts I'd built up to get the cyberware to rig for real. Estelle tried to convince me not to, said it would damage my Talent beyond repair. I didn't care. I didn't want it, I couldn't deal with it. We fought like cats and dogs about it. Finally, I left. I went to
"It was almost like the chips." she said softly. "Jacking into a car or a chopper and feeling it like it was my own body. The rush I got from rigging was the best thing in the world. I noticed after a while that my visions went away altogether, but I didn't really care. I was kind of glad they were gone.
"After a while, I hooked up with a mage, Geist."
Val smiled ruefully and snorted a laugh. "Funny, I always seem to end up running into mages who change my life." She glanced over at Talon.
"Anyway, Geist and I were hot and heavy for a while, about two months. After that, we realized we were totally wrong for each other, but that we worked well together. We pulled some runs in the UCAS with Hammer and ended up in Boston. Hammer convinced us to stay, and things around here were just heating up, so we did. Geist bought it on a run against one of Villiers' companies a few years back when Fuchi came apart in '59. I stayed with the team. You pretty much know the rest."
Val folded her arms along the railing and leaned her head forward, as if all the talking had exhausted her. The tears were drying, and she seemed tired. "I haven't thought about Germany for years, or what I lost there. Lately, though, working with you, I wonder sometimes what might have been if I hadn't decided to throw away what I had. I'm a damn good rigger, and I love doing what I do, but sometimes I can't help but wonder about the magic . . ." She shrugged, as if to end the whole train of thought.
Talon took advantage of the moment to speak.
"Look, Val." he said. "If you don't want to take this run, I understand. You do what you've got to do, nobody's going to say otherwise. But we could really use someone who knows her way around Germany, and this job is going to take a lot of sophisticated surveillance if we're going to track down our target in any kind of reasonable time. So, if you know a good rigger . . He left the rest unsaid.
Val straightened up, looked Talon in the eye, and smiled a bit. "I don't know anyone better than me."
Talon smiled. "Neither do I. I'll settle for second best."
"You don't have to." Val said. "I'm in."
"You don't—"
"Yes I do." she said. "You need me for this one. Besides, it's been a long time since I've been back home."
Talon nodded. "All right then. Let's do this." He put his arm around Val's shoulders and they walked back to Boom's office, where the rest of the team was discussing how to spend their expense account for the run. Mr. Brackhaus had been quite generous on that score, which told Talon this run was serious business as far as Saeder-Krupp was concerned. He just hoped that, when all was said and done, none of them would regret taking on the job.
Talon wasn't overly fond of airports. They were too exposed, too open, and there were too many people. Not that he expected trouble at this one, quite the contrary. Modern airports like Logan International in Boston were sterling examples of modern twenty-first-century security measures. Since they were also a favorite target of terrorists of all stripes, government and corporate security was tightest at the various ports of entry and exit, especially international airports. That was what worried Talon.
Technically, he and his four "traveling companions" were "terrorists" by a lot of definitions. As much as corporations found them useful, shadowrunners were criminals. Not only non-persons, but the very "dangerous elements" that security forces watched out for. Even with a top-grade fake ID in his pocket, Talon always felt exposed whenever he walked into an airport. He sensed numerous eyes on him, checking him over from a distance, and he focused on using his training and experience to look like just another corporate suit heading out on a business trip.
"Is it me," Trouble said quietly, "or have they increased security around here lately?"
"Not you." Talon replied. "Ever since Novatech set up shop in Boston, things have gotten tighter. It's brought in a lot more corporate competition, and that attracts plenty of wackos."
"You mean, like us?" Trouble said with an impish smile.
"Exactly."
Talon and Trouble walked together through the terminal toward their flight. They looked like any other couple, or perhaps a corporate exec and an assistant (Talon wondered who people would think was which). He had a soft-sided nylon bag slung over his shoulder, while Trouble carried a hard-sided briefcase. Both wore conservative, corporate-style clothing. Talon was in a gray suit over a burgundy shirt with a Mandarin collar and no tie, as was fashionable among many younger corporate employees. Trouble looked sharp in a gray skirt, short jacket, and dark green blouse. With the chrome hints of datajacks on both of them, they presented the perfect image of corporate conformity.
Talon could hear Boom and Hammer somewhere behind them. The troll and the ork walked together, talking and joking loudly, drawing occasional stares from the people around them. It wasn't that trolls or orks were an unusual sight in a large airport, but the fact that Boom insisted on wearing the loudest shirt he could find and talking with Hammer in deep tones that carried considerably. For all the world, the two appeared to be two metahuman chummers gabbing about a wild vacation they were embarking on.
While Talon preferred to blend in, the big troll hid in plain sight. "When you look like me," Boom said, "subtlety isn't your best choice." Talon supposed that it worked. People would recall the outrageously clad, loud-mouthed troll, but they would be hard-pressed to remember any significant details. The whole thing would be out of their minds once Boom passed, leaving people shaking their heads and wondering about "those wacky metahumans."
Val walked by herself, nondescript in jeans and leather jacket, keeping quiet and blending with the crowd. Talon would have preferred for someone to accompany her, but Val wanted to be alone, and he respected that. He was just glad she'd decided to come along. Talon thought about the things Val had told him at the Avalon and wondered how well he might deal with returning to a place that carried such memories. It was only a year since Talon had returned to Boston to face demons from his own past, so he could imagine what this was like for Val. It was something she could only get through on her own.
Black-clad Knight Errant personnel handled general security for the airport, and the lines at the security checkpoint were moving fairly briskly. Talon moved up to the head of the line and presented his credstick to a bored-looking security guard standing next to the scanning archway and x-ray machinery. The guard slotted the stick into the small data-reader he carried, glancing at the information displayed on the screen, then up at Talon and back again. The information on the credstick identified Talon as Andrew Nolan, a wagemage working for Novatech. Owning up to his magical abilities made it easier for Talon to conceal their full extent from any magicians or guardian spirits that might be watching, without having to conceal them entirely.
"Do you have anything to declare, Mr. Nolan?" the guard asked.
"Indeed I do." Tal replied, hefting his shoulder bag.
The guard nodded. "Please place the bag on the moving belt and go on through." he said. Talon did as he was told. The scanning arch swept an invisible MRI scan through his body as he stepped through it. It would pick up the cyberware in his head: datajack, internal memory, cellular link, and so forth. There was nothing there out of the ordinary for a mid-level corporate employee, and all of it was registered in the identification he gave. There was probably some sort of astral scan as well, but Talon wasn't concerned about that. Having magical abilities wasn't illegal, and his ID showed him to be a registered and licensed magician. There was nothing incriminating for an astral observer to detect.
On the other side of the arch, another uniformed guard took Talon's shoulder bag off the belt.
"Could you open this please, sir?" she asked.
"Of course." Talon said. He unzipped the bag and presented it to the guard. Sitting on top of the folded clothes and other sundries was an ornate dagger with a jeweled, golden hilt in a sheath of tooled leather. The guard took a nylon pouch from under the
counter and presented it to Talon.
"Please place your magical devices in here." she said, glancing at the dagger like it was a snake. Talon accepted the bag, picked up Talonclaw, and dropped it carefully inside. Several other small items followed the blade. Then he pulled off the adhesive strip and sealed it. The guard placed a bar code on the outside of the bag and had Talon sign a datapad before carefully placing the bag in a plastic bin behind her. Enchanted items, particularly weapons, were carefully controlled, especially after some unfortunate incidents years ago, when Awakened terrorists used magic to destroy or hijack flights. Talon knew his dagger would be carefully examined for any signs of dangerous spells or other enchantments. Andrew Nolan was registered to carry and use a weapon focus against magical threats, so again there was nothing incriminating about the blade for anyone to find. Still, Talon hated entrusting the weapon to the airport handlers. There was a good chance he would need Talonclaw's power before this run was over, so he sure wasn't about to leave it at home.
At least Aracos didn't have to go on the plane with them. Talon could just imagine his ally's complaints at the indignities of air travel, to say nothing of the food. No, Aracos returned to his home in the depths of the metaplanes before the team arrived at the airport. Only once they were safely in Germany would Talon summon him again. He sometimes wondered what it was that spirits like Aracos did when they were back "home." away from the physical world altogether. Aracos was remarkably unrevealing on that score. All he would say is "stuff." and Talon chose not to press his familiar for more detailed information.
Trouble likewise stopped to check in with the female security guard, yielding up her cyberdeck for examination and certifying that it contained no illegal or contraband data. Her identification said she was Mary O'Connel, corporate data-specialist, and licensed to carry a sophisticated cyberdeck. The Nova-tech casing on the deck made it look legit, and Trouble had installed enough baffles and masking programs to cover up the cyberdeck's expanded functions. Besides, the guards were far more interested in making sure it wasn't a bomb in disguise than in the possibilities of computer crime. The deck quickly passed inspection and they were on their way.
Talon grinned as he heard Boom behind them, loudly greeting the security guard who asked for his identification like they were long-lost friends.
The flight to the Rhine-Ruhr megaplex was a suborbital, so they were able to avail themselves of the first-class passenger lounge while they waited for the boarding call.
"I've gotta give the boss one thing." Talon said to Trouble as he picked up the German-import beer and poured it into the heavy glass mug left by the bartender. "He certainly doesn't skimp on the travel budget."
"Or on the accommodations." Trouble agreed. "We've got a corporate condo waiting for us, probably the nicest place we've ever stayed in." They were talking about Herr Brackhaus, of course, but kept any names or references to their real business out of it, just in case anyone was listening. Even the sparsely populated lounge was too public a place in which to discuss shadow-biz. Until they were safely inside a vehicle or other safe space in Germany, they had to stay in character.
Eventually, an attendant announced the boarding of their flight, and Talon&Co made their way to the umbilical tube connecting the terminal to the waiting suborbital. Crossing the transpex tube toward the passenger compartment, Talon was struck by the sheer size of the spaceplane. It measured easily the length of a football field, and was aerodynamically curved like a wave frozen in motion and cast in metal. The hull was sleek, with stubby wings and massive SCRAMjets that allowed the craft to fly at speeds in the neighborhood of Mach 20, at an altitude just shy of low-orbital distance. Most of the plane's bulk was taken up by the massive jets and the equally massive amounts of fuel they consumed.
Inside, the passenger compartment was much like any other aircraft except there were no windows. Instead, flat trideo screens occupied spaces on the walls and the backs of the seats, allowing passengers a view of the outside world from several different angles, as well as an expansive menu of entertainment and telecommunications options.