Never deal with a Dragon

3

A poke from Kiniru’s wet nose was usually enough to wake Sam, but today the akita had to resort to planting one of her huge paws on his stomach. The sudden pressure forced all the air from Sam’s lungs in an explosive burst. He sat up, gasping.

Kiniru, a canine grin on her usually somber face, sat gazing at him eagerly. A glance at the wall screen, which he always left set for a view from the outside, showed him the gray clouds hauling a threat of rain in from the Pacific. That gloom would soon banish the morning sun, making the day suitable for a funeral. He flicked the control, and the trideo set boomed to life. While Heraldo Fong’s Enquiring Eye raked through the story of some sensational thaumaturgical murder, Sam tossed back the covers, shaking his head in wonder that the arcology programming director would broadcast such hysterical drek at this hour. As Sam swung his legs over the side of the bed, Kiniru stood and skipped back. She padded to the door and looked back expectantly.

“Hold on. I’ve got to get some clothes on.”

Kiniru barked her impatience.

“Go talk to Inu. He knows enough to keep quiet.”

Instead of obeying and joining Sam’s other dog, Kiniru sat down, tail beating against the doorway. Ignoring her impatience, Sam clicked Fong off in the middle of a tirade against unlicensed magicians in order to use the screen for the room’s computer. There were no messages waiting, so he started a check on his continuing inquiries concerning his sister’s whereabouts and condition. The screen flickered, displaying the status of his programs as he dressed. The same as yesterday-nothing. Sam ignored the flashing symbol from the expert system monitoring his apartment’s computer. He knew what it wanted, but he was not yet ready to let it send the message he had composed for Sato-sama. It had possibly become irrelevant; Sato was due to arrive at the arcology in a few days.

Kiniru butted his leg.

“All right. Let’s go.”

Inu was exactly where Sam expected, sitting calmly by the door. The brindled black and white mongrel barked its greeting and stood. As Sam palmed the door open, the dogs squeezed past him, jostling their master to the side. He watched them run down the corridor toward the open area at its end. The Level 82 park was big enough for the akita to get a good run. Because the other residents knew and liked the dogs, they never complained about them running free. Inu stopped just inside the shadows of the corridor to glance back reproachfully at Sam.

“Go on, Inu. I’m staying here.”

Inu waited until Sam made a shooing motion with his hand before gamboling out into the sunlight to join Kiniru and some of the level’s children in a game of chase-and-tumble. Sam wished he could be as carefree as the former stray. It was Inu that had followed him back to the arcology that night of a year ago, making a place for himself in Sam’s world as though it were sheer destiny. While Kiniru was pure-bred, this creature of the streets was almost feral, yet he had settled into arcology life as though he’d been whelped there.

Sometimes Sam wondered if this were only a veneer, a canine version of his own resignation. When Sam had returned to Renraku after the kidnapping, he’d expected the corporation to treat him as a disgrace. Instead, he and Jiru had been sent for evaluation to certify that the kidnapping bad not unbalanced them. No accusations of wrongdoing. In fact, not a single mention of the events. Stupefied, Sam had gone along with official efforts to ease him back into corporate life, expecting at any moment to be denounced by the guard he had shot. Censure never came. It was as though nothing had ever happened.

But that didn’t mean Sam could forget. Inu was always there to remind him. Sometimes he awoke in the night, the guard’s face frozen in his memory and the accusing voice saying over and over, “I was Mark Claybourne. You took my life from me.” Surprised and frightened when Claybourne penetrated Sally Tsung’s illusion, Sam panicked. He had shot at the young guard, but had only intended to wound him. It was Sam’s agitation and unfamiliarity with firearms that left Claybourne so horribly injured that modem medical science had been hard-pressed to save the guard’s life. When the doctors were unable to restore full nerve function, Claybourne committed suicide. Claybourne may have taken his own life, but Sam took the blame.

It was only after Sam’s return to the arcology that he discovered the identity and fate of the guard. It had not been an easy job. Someone had sealed Claybourne’s medical records as though actually trying to hide Sam’s deed. Once Sam had the information, Claybourue took up residence in his dreams, a ghost of the mind. Unable to atone, Sam struggled daily with the guilt, praying for forgiveness and understanding and vowing that his hand would never harm another innocent life.

What about the shadowrunners whose schemes had so enmeshed him? Did they feel any remorse? Did they care that they had made a killer out of Sam? Not likely. Like Inu, they were almost feral, their way of life at complete odds with Sam’s corporate world. He presumed the bunch was still out there somewhere, cooking their deals and running their shady scams. They probably didn’t even remember him. He was just a suit to them, passing briefly through their shadow lives. They were runners and he was Corp an alien in their world.

Renraku, one of the corporations that made the world go round, had taken care of him and his sister after their parents died. Having grown up thinking of the corporation as both home and family. Sam’s loyalty had been fierce. The events of last year, however, had left him numb with shock. Now came another severe blow to his image of the corporation he called family. What he had seen in the Matrix two days ago raised painful questions of ethics and responsibility. Questions to which he hadn’t the vaguest answers. Hell, questions he didn’t even want to think about. But it was becoming harder and harder to make Renraku resemble his old beliefs.

When his wake-up alarm chimed, Sam let the demands of the moment push all these disturbing thoughts into the background. Hanae would be here soon and he still hadn’t eaten or showered up. He stepped back inside. He was dumping the empty packets from breakfast into the disposal slot when the door chirped. “Who’s calling, please,” he said into the intercom, at the same time hitting the switch to send his refuse down to the arcology’s recycler.

“My, we are formal this morning. All right. Hanae Norwood, sir. Perhaps you remember me? We met at the Independence Day celebrations last year.”

Sam palmed the door open to a giggling Hanae. The jet black helmet of her hair set off her bright Eurasian features, but the drab gray of her very proper suit was out of character. Though suitable for a funeral, it was a far cry from the bright colors she favored. Lifting herself onto her toes, she kissed Sam’s cheek as she entered.

“This would have been much simpler if I had stayed here last night.”

“I wanted to be alone.”

“Don’t sound so worried. I understand,” she assured him as she fished through her purse. “I’ve got an armband for you here somewhere.”

Mumbling his thanks, he took the black band she held out. It was so like her. Knowing he’d probably forget the band, she’d taken it upon herself to keep him from making a gaffe of corporate etiquette. Like a good helpmate, she understood those little details that seemed so meaningless but were worth points on the corporate ladder. Loyal, attentive, ambitious for him, and not least of all, charming and pretty, she was everything a salaryman could want in a woman. He should formalize their relationship, but something inside him held back.

Hanae followed him into the bedroom to check her makeup while he finished dressing. The minor was near his computer console. Too late, he realized he had not blanked it. He could see her reading the screen as he pulled on his shoes.

“You still haven’t sent off your letter to Sate-sama?”

Not now. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You really should,” she insisted softly.

“What’s the use? If Sato remembers me at all, he remembers our last meeting at the hospital in Tokyo. He made it abundantly clear that he resented wasting time on me, even if Aneki-sama thought it worthwhile. Sato has no love for gaijin and still less for anyone who might threaten his position by siphoning off Aneki-sama’s attention.”

She looked confused. “But you weren’t a threat to him.”

“Aneki-sama was watching my career. That’s threat enough for someone like Sato.”

“You’re exaggerating. Sato-sama is a smart man. He couldn’t be otherwise to become Aneki-sama’s special assistant. He knows that a simple researcher would never be a threat to a man of his position. You must have misinterpreted his intentions.”

“Misinterpreted? He seemed pleased enough to see me exiled to the arcology. Everybody knows that the only people who have any real future with Renraku work out of the home offices in Japan. The arcology project may be important, but it’s just a side show.”

“Of course it’s important.” She seemed offended that he could think otherwise. “That’s why you’re here. Aneki-sama probably wants you to get experience you’ll be needing later. It’s just a stepping stone, not a punishment.”

“You really don’t understand, do you?” A familiar rage made Sam snap at her. “I saw Sato’s face when he told me about what had happened to Janice. He enjoyed giving me the bad news.”

“That’s unkind.”

“He was unkind. No, cruel. Not that he cared what happened to my sister. He was pleased at what it meant for me. Whether Janice lived or died, she had shown that the Verner bloodline is what they call tainted. As if not being Japanese weren’t taint enough for someone like him. Like everything in Japan, the kawaru affects more than the one who is changed. A whole family can be destroyed. My sister’s metahuman blood is enough to bar me from rising in the corporation.”

“But they didn’t fire you,” Hanae observed as though that settled the question.

“Doesn’t make a lot of sense, does it? I’ve often wondered why. I’ve heard of enough others who’ve been sacked under similar circumstances.”

“Perhaps it was Aneki-sama’s influence. He was your patron and wouldn’t abandon you. So you see, he probably sent you here for training.”

Her optimism never failed to cheer him, perhaps even more so when it helped him to continue believing in his old life. “Maybe he didn’t abandon me. But even the head of a major multinational corporation has to bow to the immense power of social conventions in Japan. This exile to Seattle was probably the best he could do, perhaps an expression of regret for the dictates of unfortunate circumstances.”

Hanae smiled. “Aneki-sama is a good man.”

“Whatever the intention, Renraku is keeping me away from Janice when she needs me the most. They’ve blocked every attempt to see her.”

“It’s hard to believe that Aneki-sama could allow such a thing.”

Sam’s new doubts made him wonder, but another part of him still wanted to believe that Aneki was, indeed, a good man, that it was others who were corrupting Renraku.

“Someone else must be responsible,” she concluded.

“Like Sato?”

“I don’t think so,” Hanae said firmly. “Aneki-sama would never let such nastiness so close to him.”

Again, Sam wanted to believe, but he had heard the viciousness in Sato’s announcement with his own ears and who was closer to Aneki-sama than Sato? Sato might be the villain, or he might not. Sam had no evidence other than the man’s disagreeable nature. Not knowing who to blame only made Sam angrier and more frustrated. “Whoever is responsible, I am stuck here in Seattle, confined to the arcology ‘for security reasons.’ What a joke! They haven’t let me near any sensitive data since I arrived. They keep me busy on trivial researches. I’ve done my job and been a good little researcher, but I still don’t know what happened to Janice.”

“Maybe you should hire someone,” she suggested.

“With what? Arcology prices are outrageous. With my lower job rating, I haven’t got enough credit to hire a detective even if they would let me contact one.”

“Then you should work through the corporation.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do for the past year?” Sam snapped. “It hasn’t done any good. Janice has become a nonperson to Renraku. I know they provided her with the usual benefits of relocation and restart money, but that’s all I know. The Imperial Japanese government is scrupulous about that. They despise metahumans, but they do care about their global image as a compassionate government. Compassionate! Metahumans are the new bunrakumin in Japan; a new class of outcasts, doomed to misery, poverty, and the dirty jobs that the upper classes disdain. Even the bunrakumin look down on metahumans. That’s what Janice has now.”

Hanae quailed from his intensity, fright in her eyes. Having been raised entirely within the corporate environment, she still believed in the corporation and the great zaibatsu spirit. She was even more sheltered than Sam had been at the moment his step into the shadows showed him that all was not as it seemed. Hanae truly didn’t understand what he was trying to tell her.

There was no point in pushing the issue. His own feelings were in turmoil; he didn’t need to upset her further. Shrugging into his suitcoat, he said lamely, “We’re late.”

Hanae nodded timidly and took the hand he offered. “We can talk more later if you want.”

He reminded himself that she only wanted to help. “Sure. Later.”