Chapter Three
Old News
Sacramento
California Free State
November 2, 2059
9:05 pm
A smog over the Sacramento sprawl hid the twinkling stars. Sacramento isn't the largest city in the California Free State, but it is far from the smallest. Three-hundred thousand people go about their lives beneath the encroaching smog. The dark tinge it leaves on their clothes and faces is as much a part of them as the ground they walk on. An entire generation of people plod mindlessly through their lives without a hint of recognition to the more vile things that live among them. On one of Sacramento's many garbage filled streets there is a man who knows of the vile things that live in the Sixth World. After all, he's worked around them all of his life.
The ork walked down the street. Tusks protruding from his lower lip had been rounded with age. A streetlamp bathed the ork in a yellow glow. The light cast awkward shadows across his metal arm. He walked with a sense of determination and confidence in his step. It sent a signal to would be muggers that this was a man, no an ork, who was not to be trifled with.
He stopped at a storefront. One that advertised free access to Matrix terminals. The inside of the building was dark. The only light came from glowing computer screens and dim floodlamps from the high ceiling. The ork entered and made his way past several patrons who quietly stared at the screens. Others stared at nothing at all. Datacords ran from jacks in their skin to the terminals. They were directly connected with the world wide Matrix.
There was a single man sitting in the back. The ork took the terminal next too him. A metal finger tapped the touch-sensitive pad, causing the display to light up. Digital light cast unusual shapes over the ork's scarred and wrinkled skin.
The man next to the ork acknowledged his presence. He spoke in a calm tone. One that carried no ill will. "Hello, Gideon."
The ork merely grunted in response. His metal finger tapped on the touch pad. The screen changed Matrix sites to a newsfeed.
"I thought you had left California?"
The ork kept his response was as simple as possible. "Not yet."
The man didn't say anything for a few minutes. The screen on his terminal loaded a chatroom on some out of the way server not often listed in public directories. It looked as though it held the man's complete attention for a moment. The ork did not say anything either as he casually read the week's news.
"Have you read the news from Seattle lately?" The man finally asked.
"No."
"Look at the Seattle Chronicle reports for the fifteenth, twentieth, and twenty-fourth of last month."
The ork grunted again. His finger worked the touch pad. Archives for the Seattle Chronicle Newsfax appeared on his display. The ork scanned the stories. It didn't take long to see the connection on the three dates.
On the fifteenth there was an explosion on the fourth floor of the Seattle Hilton. It killed two people. Both were so badly disfigured DNA had to be used for identification. One of the victims, a woman, was Cera Celiste. The other, a decapitated male, could not be identified. The blast was confined only to their suite. Police reports suggested that someone had used a shaped charge of military grade explosive in the bombing. Lone Star tagged it to a terrorist attack. The case was still open.
On the twentieth Master Odona Hirotko was teaching his class of martial arts and swordsmanship at his dojo in Auburn. In the middle of the class a lone perpetrator entered the dojo. He was carrying a samurai sword. Moments later he attacked the assembled students. After the students the perpetrator assaulted Master Hirotko, killing him almost instantly. There were no survivors. A Lone Star investigation concluded that the murderer had been magically active after forensic mages determined the sword the perpetrator used was a type of focus.
The last article on the twenty-fourth was an obituary with a death certificate attached. Hillary Downing, a stock analyst, had been assaulted on her way home from work. The certificate showed the cause of death to be a single horizontal cut from a bladed weapon that nearly severed her in half.
"Odona Hirotko and Hillary Downing. The man in the hotel bombing was Jason Trevor. All were members of my clan." The man explained. "Odona was old, even by our standards. He had always been lethargic. All he wanted was to read his books and teach a technique that emphasized self discipline and control. Hillary was always jacked into the Matrix. She handled my clan's stocks in Seattle, earning a strong income. I sent Trevor to Seattle last month to tie up loose ends. He was suppose to come home within a week. He stayed anyway to bath in Seattle's temptations of the flesh."
"Now they are all dead."
"It has me concerned. Their deaths are not random acts." The man admitted. "They are the acts of a single assassin. One who is very skilled and very motivated. To kill Hillary is a small feat. To kill Odona shows skill. Though neither of them were very strong. Hillary was barely a pawn. Odona was weak and old. Trevor was neither. He was very strong, yet he fell as well."
"You know who the assassin is?"
"There is only one person who it can be." The man said solemnly. "Nightsky."
Gideon's expressionless face flinched, but he regained his composure immediately. "No, he was never that good." He shook his head.
"What happened this summer caused a potential within him to awaken. I fear he has become much stronger than I had thought. I have read the police reports made by the forensic mages. The mages believe the perpetrator is a magical initiate. Autopsy reports showed that bones were cut clean through."
"Doesn't make sense. Why would he wait so long?"
"Perhaps he needed time to prepare."
The ork shook his head. "Nightsky wouldn't want this kind of exposure. He's in the shadows. Staying quiet keeps him alive. Making noise puts him in danger."
"Who is to say that he hasn't lost his mind?"
The ork huffed, but didn't say anything.
"His actions demand my attention. It would be futile to attempt to recruit him. I realize that I had my chance several years ago. Now it is gone." He took a deep breath and continued. "He is the least of my worries. The Order is in turmoil. The clans are struggling for control, warring with each other. Only one will emerge dominate over the rest. The incidents in Seattle are distracting and consume resources. Meanwhile the Nebak Clan makes its moves here in California." The man hushed for a moment. His eyes read something on the screen. Then he admitted, "Seattle has become a meager matter to me."
The ork looked at him curiously.
"I have made my decision. I will wash my hands of this, cast it away. My clan is in California. They deserve my full attention."
The ork grunted slightly.
"I cannot allow this wholesale slaughter to continue. I must have Nightsky's rage stopped before he brings it to California. That is why I needed to meet with you, Gideon. Make him stop. It does not matter how you do it."
The ork thought for a second, then grumbled something to himself. His eyes turned back to the screen in front of him, rereading the news articles again. After a moment he nodded his agreement.
The man passed a credstick to him. "I'm paying you in advance. Bring some semblance of sanity to Seattle. In the meantime, I have my own enemies to deal with." The man stood, collecting his coat from the table. "This will be our last meeting. You are a true professional to the end. That kind of simple loyalty is hard to find." He offered his hand. "Goodbye, Gideon."
"Goodbye, Darvish."
They shook hands and went their separate ways.