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Part Ten: "Rebound"

Article: 1324 of alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
Newsgroups: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
Subject: Silk and Steel 10
Date: 29 Mar 93 06:45:58 GMT
Lines: 480
 
Silk and Steel, Part Ten: "Rebound"
Copyright March 1993 by Jay B. Brandt, all rights reserved
 
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Argus revved the big Kurokinu San-zen commuter bike and took off into the
night. He roared down the Northern expressway, back to the downtown Seattle
core. Trying to track Shadowcat's minicam hair-clips to the warehouse
complex had been a false lead, but at least it had not been a very
effective trap. Argus couldn't quite figure out why. Why had the complex
been so lightly guarded? It was as if somebody just wanted to buy some time
by sending the minicams somewhere else. Maybe they just didn't think it
likely that the minicams would be traced. Whatever the reason, the
operation at the warehouse was an entirely different style from that of the
people who had attacked him in the parking garage. Argus was fairly certain
that the heavy-handed crew that had run that operation would have been
prepared to play rough with anyone who followed those transmitters.
 
Argus needed more information. Skinny Willie, with his crew of kids, had
eyes all over the downtown area. Maybe one of them saw what happened to
Shadowcat. Or he might be able to help Argus determine who owned that
warehouse. At any rate, he needed a safe place to stay for the night and to
plan his next moves, and Willie could provide that. He pulled off the
expressway into downtown, and kicked the cycle into its quiet electric
mode. There were very few other cars on the street, and none were going the
same way he was. He was fairly certain no one was following him. He pulled
off into Willie's alley.
 
There was no sign of any guard on Willie's fire escape. At night Willie
preferred to use remotes to guard the door. Besides, it gave his crew a
chance to test the combat robots on live targets now and then. The sides of
the service road were cluttered with crates, barrels and dumpsters, serving
the various residents of this block. He pulled the cycle up next to a
reinforced steel garage door, and parked it. The door he had used to enter
Willie's place earlier was to the right of it. He stepped up to knock on
the door. 
 
As he reached out his hand, he suddenly saw the red firefly dot of a laser
sight appear on the back of his right hand. Argus ducked, rolled to one
side, and whipped out his Predator handgun, searching for the sniper. He
was alone in the alley. There was no one on the rooftops, and no windows
positioned where anyone could have tagged him like that. He stepped up to
the door again and waved his hand in front of the door. There was no sign
of the red light. He primed his reflexes to maximum wired response, and
reached up to knock again. The red dot reappeared on his hand, and he
whirled in place. Still he almost missed the movement on the other side of
the service road, as the lid of one of the barrels lowered silently back
into place.
 
He walked up to the barrel and rapped on its lid with his fist. "Gotcha
made rigger! Name's Schitz. I got biz with Skinny Willie."
 
The lid on the barrel raised an inch, and two gun barrels, a vidcam lens,
and a laser sight peeked out of the slit. A young male voice with a Haitian
accent spoke from the remote, echoing slightly in the steel drum. "Damn,
but you be fast! You got any idea what time it is mon? De boss he be
sleepin, an it better be good biz fo me to wake him now."
 
Argus chuckled. "Biz is biz. I won't keep him up late. Get him to let me
in, and there's an extra 50 creds in it for you if you keep an eye on my
bike for me tonight. I'll be here till dawn at least."
 
There was a pause, and the door across the road opened. A fifteen year old
Haitian boy looked out, and waived to him. "He say you be cool mon. Come on
in, an do your biz."
--------------------------------------------------------------
Shadowcat was living a nightmare. She couldn't see, hear or touch anything,
but felt naked and exposed. She could breathe easily, but felt as if she
was floating in a warm, dark, thick oil, while little fishes intermittently
nibbled at her, or swam nearby. The cool fish touched her body all over,
even inside her mouth and in her more intimate recesses. They seemed
particularly fond of swimming close to her head. It tickled when they
touched her.
 
The silence was shattered by a loud explosion. Sharp barking sounds like a
string of firecrackers filled the air. She wanted to cover her ears, but
she couldn't move. There were three more explosions, closely spaced, and
her ears felt like they would burst. Then silence again. Silence, and a
faint ringing in her ears.
 
Twice, without warning, the darkness was split by intense, blinding beams
of light, which stabbed into her eyes. She tried to scream, and nothing
happened. She was helpless to stop it. Her eyes seemed stuck wide open, and
her body would not respond to any attempt to move. She just floated
listlessly, weightless, her body and limbs moving in response to unseen
currents in the viscous fluid that surrounded her.
 
Faint, muffled sounds slowly became audible in the fluid, but nothing she
could identify. She tried to jack out, with no luck. She couldn't seem to
access any of her cyberware mods, either. She could sense they were there,
but her frantic commands to operate them went unanswered.
 
The fish came back, nibbling and occasionally biting at her body. She felt
one by her neck, nudging her behind her right ear. Suddenly it bit her,
hard, and the world shattered into a million tiny, sharp fragments.
 
Shadowcat awoke with a jolt. She was very groggy, and couldn't think
clearly. She drew a shuddering breath. It was still dark, but not
completely so, and she could move now. A bad dream. That's all it was. Just
a really bad dream. She realized she was shivering, even though the room
was warm. She was naked. A smooth, cool sensation rested against her bare
skin. Silk. She was twisted up in silk bed sheets, slightly damp with her
own sweat, and she was lying on a firm, slightly resilient surface. She
tentatively moved to free her head, and was rewarded with a dim view of a
small, darkened, windowless room. She was lying on or very close to the
floor. Indirect lighting in recesses near the ceiling provided a very dim
light, barely enough for her to see at all. She could just make out the
dark shapes of two doors, with a crack of light visible beneath one of
them. Faint music came from the other side of that door.
 
She did not see anything resembling a light switch on the walls. "More
light please!" she said to the room, hoping there was a voice-activated
room computer of the type standard in hotels and good apartments. There was
no response. She stuck out a hand, groping near her to touch her
surroundings. She was lying on a thin futon, which in turn was lying
directly on the floor, without a Western-style bed frame. The floor was
covered with tatami mats, in the traditional Japanese fashion. Taking a cue
from her surroundings, she called out in Japanese for more light. "Motto
dento kudasai!" The room light brightened to normal daytime levels.
Apparently the room's computer was programmed to accept only Japanese
commands. That would make sense if this room was what it appeared to be.
She was apparently in a ryokan, a hotel specializing in traditional
Japanese business accommodations. There were several such hotels in the
Seattle Sprawl, and even several apartment complexes that catered to the
traditionalist Japanese trade.
 
The room was small, about 6 by 9 feet, with three tatami mats covering the
floor. There was a large mirror on one of the short walls, near the head of
her futon. On the other short wall there was a large vidscreen and a
control console for an entertainment system. She noted with some
apprehension that it was a Sony VidTech unit, made by her former employer.
But they were a popular brand, so she shrugged it off. The walls were
plain, decorated with a few small, framed prints of Japanese landscapes.
The two doors were in one of the long walls. The door closest to the mirror
was open. Beyond it was a very small room containing a washbasin and a
Japanese style toilet, which was level with the floor, had no seat, and had
a flushing lever on the wall. That room had lit up also when she called for
the lights. Except for her futon and bedding, the only other movable items
in the room were a bright yellow silk kimono, neatly folded near the head
of her futon, and a pair of clear plastic slippers near the door of the
washroom.
 
OK, she probably was in a ryokan. The question was, how did she get here?
And for that matter, where exactly -was- 'here'? She couldn't remember how
or when she arrived. Argus must have brought her here last night. But she
couldn't remember a thing since they had lunch together yesterday. At least
she assumed it was yesterday. Everything was still so fuzzy. The only thing
she was certain of at the moment was that she needed to use that washroom.
She slipped out of the bed, gratefully put on the kimono and slippers, then
squatted over the toilet. When she was done, she looked herself over in the
mirror and tried to remember what had happened last night.
 
She hardly recognized herself. She was still wearing the pale makeup she
had put on the day before to make herself look more like her sister, Cherri
Howe. The makeup had smudged in several places, revealing her own more
deeply tanned complexion. Her hair was short, straight and black, instead
of her usual shoulder-length brown curls. She remembered with regret having
cut and dyed it the day before. "Yuck! I can't wait for that to grow out
again." she said to herself. "Well, at least I can easily change the color,
if I can get my makeup kit back again. And my face is a mess. May as well
wash it off completely."
 
She went back into the washroom and searched through the drawers in the
washbasin cabinet. Most were empty, but the top one held a small washcloth,
a hand towel, and an unmarked white packet containing a small bar of soap.
She washed the remaining makeup off her face. As she washed her jaw, she
noticed a small transdermal drug patch, on the underside of her jawbone on
the left side. She removed the derm and looked at it, but couldn't tell
what it was for. She threw it into the toilet and flushed it away. Her head
slowly began to clear.
 
She noticed a slight twinge of pain in her right arm, and looked at it.
There was a needle mark on the inside of her right elbow. It was sore and
slightly bruised. Had she recently sold some of her blood? She couldn't
recall having done so in quite some time. Not since the last blood drive at
Sony VidTech. They had usually paid a nice bonus for donating to the
arcology blood bank. 
 
She reached up and touched her Cyberlink. Or rather, she tried to do so.
There was some sort of short, stubby object jacked in. She tried to remove
it. It wouldn't budge. She walked back into the main room and stood in
front of the mirror. Holding her hair up away from the Cyberlink, which it
just barely covered, she twisted her head and tried to see the object in
the mirror. She couldn't see it very well, but it seemed to be a rounded
black disk, completely covering her single Cyberlink jack. There was
something silver on the surface of it. She felt at it with her fingertips.
There was apparently a ring-shaped hole in the back of the disk, where she
had seen the silver part. It felt as if it might be a keyhole for a
cylindrical key.
 
Well, that explained why she couldn't use her head-phone or cellular modem.
Someone had locked a neural restrainer on her Cyberlink. Corps sometimes
used them on mnemonic couriers, to ensure security of the data they carried
in their wetware. Until she got that damned thing removed, she wouldn't be
able to jack in -or- use any of her internal communications wetware.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. Argus never would have allowed anyone to
put one of those contraptions on her.
 
Argus had arranged for her to receive the communications wetware before he
extracted her from Sony VidTech's arcology. At that thought, memories of
the attack in the parking garage came flooding back. "Argus! Oh no, Argus!"
The last time she had seen him hadn't been at lunch. It was when they were
attacked in the parking garage. She had never seen Argus get out of the
van, but one of their attackers had been shooting into it. She sat heavily
on the futon and started to cry, as the realization swept over her that
Argus might well have died back there. She had been able to do nothing to
stop it, and had done her best to escape. The fact that Argus himself had
told her that was what she should do if they were attacked gave her little
comfort. She suddenly felt very much alone.
 
When she regained her composure, Shadowcat went quietly to the other door
and listened. She could hear music, and a couple indistinct voices speaking
quietly. She went to the entertainment console and tried to access it,
hoping to get some idea of where she was and how long she had been here.
The console had power, but its controls were dead, apparently locked out
elsewhere.
 
She went back and tried the door. To her surprise, it was unlocked. She
looked around the room she was in, searching for anything she could use as
a weapon. The only thing that was vaguely useful was the four-foot long,
inch and a half wide silk sash that held her kimono closed. She slipped it
out of the braided thread loops that held it at her waist, wrapped the sash
around where it belonged, and retied it in a slip knot. Then she quietly
opened the door and entered the next room.
 
She found herself in a slightly larger room, maybe twelve feet square. It
too was decorated in a very traditional Japanese manner. Two male armed
guards stood by a sliding shoji screen that formed one wall of the room.
Both appeared to be Caucasian mercenaries, with extensive cyberware
modifications. So much for trying to fight her way out of this place. The
music was coming from the other side of the shoji screen, and Shadowcat
realized now that the music was a classical Japanese concert. There were
several other doors in the room, but the guards only seemed intent on
preventing access to the large sliding shoji screen. The other doors
probably led only to more small rooms like her own, which had access only
to this room. 
 
An attractive young woman wearing a pale green silk kimono was also in the
room, sitting at a desk and watching a bank of twelve video monitors, while
entering data on a computer workstation. The woman stood and addressed
Shadowcat in Japanese. "Ah, you are up. You would like breakfast? Or
perhaps a bath?" She paused and smiled. "We were informed that you speak
excellent Japanese, so do not pretend otherwise. I must ask that you speak
only Japanese here, as a courtesy to my employer. You do understand me?"
 
Shadowcat replied, in Japanese. "Yes, I understand. Where am I please? How
did I get here please? Why am I here please? I take it I am not free to
leave. Is this not so?"
 
The other woman frowned. "So many questions. You have questions, and so do
we. You will get answers, when and if my employer chooses to give them. For
now, you are our guest. If you behave well as a guest, you will be treated
well. You may find it difficult to believe, but it is very much in your own
best interests for you to be here, and to meet with my employer. You have
at least one hour before my employer arrives. Plenty of time to relax and
refresh yourself. Would you not like some breakfast? It has been some time
since you last ate. I'm sure I can get our cook to make something for you."
 
Shadowcat had to admit to herself that she -was- feeling  quite hungry. "It
seems I have few choices at the moment. Yes, I will have some breakfast,
thank you. How long must I stay here? Will my clothes and other things be
returned to me? I take it you are my hostess while I am here. What should I
call you?"
 
The other woman smiled again, and made an entry on the computer. "Your
breakfast will arrive momentarily, and your clothing will be returned to
you before my employer arrives. As to your other things, and when you may
leave us, that my employer will decide. As for myself, you may call me
Hatsuko. I will see to your needs while you are with us."
 
Hatsuko looked at Shadowcat in an appraising manner. "And what should I
call you? You were carrying an identity card for a Catherine Black, of
North Seattle. But we have already determined that there is no such person.
We know that in Seattle you have also used the street name 'Shadowcat'. If
you lived in Japan for any length of time, which we believe you have from
your fluency with Japanese, you no doubt adopted at least one native name
while there. Must I use one of those foreign names that we know so far, or
will you be polite and tell me your Japanese name?"
 
Shadowcat didn't want to aggravate the woman, but wasn't about to reveal
her full identity, either. Not without knowing more about what was going
on. She recalled the name her childhood friends in Japan had called her. It
was a common enough name, so she gave that. "It seems you know a great deal
about me Hatsuko-san. You may call me Kimiko. Would you please convey to
your employer that it is urgent that I be released as soon as our business
is concluded? I have unfinished business to attend to, which must be done
today, or tomorrow at the very latest. Please, it is very important to me."
 
Hatsuko smiled. "Kimiko? A nice name. I will convey your message to my
employer, who will decide what is to be done. That is all I can promise at
this time." 
 
There was a gentle tapping on the shoji screen, and one of the mercenaries
opened it enough to take a covered tray from a very young woman on the
other side. He closed the screen, and lifted the cover to inspect the meal
before he handed the tray to Shadowcat. "Your meal, Kimiko-San. You may eat
it here, or in your room, as you choose."
 
Shadowcat took the tray and headed back to her room. "Thank you." She
turned to Hatsuko. "Hatsuko-San, may I use the entertainment console in my
room please? I would like to watch the news while I eat."
 
Hatsuko made another entry on the computer console. "This is acceptable
Kimiko-San. I have authorized access to a limited number of recent Seattle
news programs. All have been pre-recorded, with the audio available in
English or Japanese. All other functions will be locked out. Watch what you
like. We will summon you when my employer arrives."
 
"Thank you Hatsuko-san." said Shadowcat, as she went back to her room with
her tray. She shut the door behind her. She noted that her cup, plate,
knife, spoon and fork were all weak plastic disposables, useless as
weapons. The meal was good, but nondescript. A couple flavored rice cakes,
sliced fruit, a croissant, some sort of jam or preserves, a cup of hot tea,
and a glass of fruit juice. Except for the fact that the fruit and
croissant seemed to be fresh, it was the sort of thing room service at any
business class hotel could provide at any hour. She wolfed it all down, and
was looking for more. She was -really- hungry, and was wondering if she
could get them to bring her some -serious- food. All she'd had to eat
yesterday was the sandwich and beer at the bar when she'd had lunch with
Argus, and it just hadn't stayed with her at all. Then again, what she
could remember of the past few days had been rather strenuous.
 
The entertainment console activated with a touch on the control remote. The
computer listed twelve possible programs. Shadowcat selected the most
recent program, which should be the evening news for the day she and Argus
were attacked. The screen came to life as the nearly realistic, computer
generated hostess of the hypervideo production introduced the program. "Hi
folks! Welcome to Seattle's own 10:00 evening FlashNews, for Wednesday,
November 13, 2070, sponsored by Hostility Hotline. Remember, when you see a
violent crime, call Hostility Hotline! Dial 999 from any phone, and -you-
can do your part as a concerned citizen to crush the forces that threaten
your security." The talking head listed the 'current' headline stories,
giving just a short synopsis of each one, as the title of the story and an
identifying number appeared in a list to one side of the screen.
 
If Shadowcat chose to do so, she could key in the ID number of any given
story, and jump right to that article. During any article, she would
normally even be able to access hypervideo links to public databases of
related information, so she could gain an expanded understanding of the
topic. But with Hatsuko restricting the newsfeed from her console,
Shadowcat suspected the only links she would be able to make would be
within the selected hypervideo news programs themselves, connecting related
stories. She just let the news program run. Without outside input, it would
just play through all the stories in the program.
 
The lead story was about a terrorist attempt to blow up a corporate sub
orbital shuttle flight to Japan. Spaceport security had more than the usual
amount of difficulty in bringing the madman down, because he had somehow
infiltrated their security construct in the Matrix, and was using their own
combat security drones against them. The shuttle was launched with only
minor damage and no loss of life, but three private aircraft were downed or
destroyed, as well as four security vehicles. There were 18 fatalities and
30 injuries reported. The confrontation ended when one 'heroic' security
officer rammed his burning armored vehicle into a fuel truck that was near
the terrorist, killing both of them when it exploded into flames.
 
The next story was about several unexplained deaths in the South Sprawl
Megamall, at the Virtually There franchise. Four clients and two employees
had died at the site, of 'unknown causes'. Police were investigating, but
as yet had no clues as to the reason for the deaths. They declined to
comment on what killed the people, but claimed the danger was over, and
that the franchise could safely re-open. There were two related stories
indicated in this program. 
 
Shadowcat selected them to view next. In one, it was reported that a
Virtually There employee, who had disappeared just before the incident this
morning, had been found face down in the Seattle Sound, with his throat
slashed. Police were tentatively listing it as a common mugging. In the
other story, the girl from the front booth at Virtually There, who had been
hospitalized, had disappeared from the hospital shortly before a police
detective was to arrive to question her. The two police guards on the
girl's room reported they had both been overpowered by an 'unseen
assailant'. No one saw anyone enter or leave the girl's room, and the
hospital security scanners all showed normal hallway traffic. Apparently
someone had patched in a vid loop of earlier scenes into the camera feed,
while the attack took place. Police were said to be investigating, but
offered no further information.
 
Shadowcat went back to the main headlines. The next story was about a
terrorist attack in downtown Seattle. She listened in growing shock as the
smiling, emotionless, computer generated spokeswoman announced the story.
 
"Police are searching for a female terrorist, identity and affiliations
unknown, believed to be responsible for two deaths and severe damages to
several vehicles in a downtown Seattle parking garage around mid-day today.
The suspect is described by a witness at the scene as a Caucasian female in
her mid twenties, with long blonde hair, standing about five feet six
inches tall, and wearing a long, tan raincoat or duster and a wide-brimmed
tan hat. Police have released this composite vidpic of the suspect." The
screen was filled with a fair approximation of Shadowcat's own face, made
up as Cherri, with the long blonde wig and the hat she had been wearing
when she had entered the parking garage with Argus. The voice on the screen
continued. "She is believed to be heavily armed, with conventional firearms
and possibly also explosives. If you see this woman, do -not- attempt to
approach her. Report all sightings to the Hostility Hotline, by dialing 999
on any vidphone or comset. We now go to our on the scene reporter, Tina
Ferrar, with her report."
 
The scene changed to one within the parking garage, with garish floodlights
illuminating the crumpled, burned out van behind the young female reporter.
"The intended target of this afternoon's attack was apparently the driver
of this van. He was an unidentified man who was seen entering the garage
with the female suspect, possibly at gunpoint, shortly before the savage
attack. As you can see behind me, the van he was driving is now little more
than a burned out shell. The vehicle and its lone occupant were attacked
with explosives and savagely raked with gunfire, then set on fire and left
to burn. The coroner has already removed the bodies, but we are told that
one body was found shot to death and burned beyond recognition in the
driver's seat of the van." The camera panned to show the other damaged car,
which was being prepared to tow away. "The other victim was lying between
this car and another one, further down, toward the elevator. He apparently
exchanged gunfire with the terrorist, and died as a result. He has not been
identified either. Police report that so far only seven organizations have
claimed responsibility for this brutal and senseless attack, but that none
of them appear to be credible so far. I'm Tina Ferrar, for Seattle
FlashNews."
 
Shadowcat hardly heard the rest of the broadcast. She was in shock at the
idea that -she- was being blamed for the attack, and that Argus was dead.
The announcer was just finishing a story about a local street enforcer
whose body had been found in a dumpster in East Sector, when she was jolted
back to awareness by a repeated knocking at the door.
 
She called out that the person could enter, and a teenage Japanese girl
came in, carrying a paper-wrapped bundle. The girl set the parcel by the
door, and spoke to Shadowcat. "Kimiko-San, here are your clothes. Our
employer will be here soon. Please to prepare yourself for the interview."
The girl backed out of the room before Shadowcat could gather her wits
enough to reply.
 
She shook her head and unwrapped the bundle. In it were her bra and
panties, her black silk bodysuit, the wraparound yellow miniskirt, one
white blouse and her yellow vest. All had been freshly laundered. Her
black, flat-soled shoes were also in the packet. None of her other things
had been returned, not even her makeup kit or any of her belts. She quickly
changed into the clothes, and kept the belt from the kimono. 
 
As soon as she was changed, the girl returned, again knocking politely at
the door, as if she were an honored guest and not a prisoner. "Kimiko-San,
It is time for your meeting. You will come with me please?" Shadowcat,
still a bit dazed by the recent series of shocks, quietly followed her.
 
They went into the room where she had met Hatsuko, and one of the guards
opened the shoji screen and escorted her into what appeared to be a -very-
well-appointed executive office. One wall was dominated by a massive
window, which backlit the person sitting behind a large desk in the middle
of that wall. For a moment, her eyes were dazzled by the bright light, and
Shadowcat could not clearly see the person at the desk or what lay outside
the window.
 
When her eyes adjusted somewhat, Shadowcat stopped in mid stride and stared
out the window, eyes widening in absolute terror. Then she crumpled to her
knees, trembling and weeping rapidly in Japanese, "Yurushite kudasai!
Yurushite kudasai!", literally 'Forgive me! Forgive me!', over and over as
she held her face in her hands. For the view through the window was from a
position high in the wall of a large arcology, looking straight into what
was unmistakably a glorious sunrise over the Ginza district, in downtown
Tokyo.
 
As she lay on the floor trembling uncontrollably, fearing for her life that
she was about to face the wrath of the megacorporation that she had broken
her contract with, Shadowcat felt a gentle hand touch her shoulder. As if
from miles away, she heard an old woman's voice ask her in Japanese "Child,
what -are- you babbling about?" Shadowcat looked up, and with some
difficulty focused her crying eyes on the person who had addressed her. She
whispered "Obaasan?" and fell over in a dead faint.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Text, all characters (especially Obaasan, Aki, Argus and Shadowcat), and
the 'Virtually There' chain of simstim/VR clubs,
all Copyright March 1993 by Jay B. Brandt, all rights reserved. 
Please use them only with my permission. 
 
Comments, criticisms, and suggestions are requested.
Please send them to me via e-mail at <JBrandt@AAA.UOregon.edu>
--------------------------------------------------------------
 
Well folks, there's part 10.  Part 11 should be out in another one to two
weeks. What do you think? Any new comments?
 
Shadowcat