The creature's skin began to suffuse with pink, and dark stubble appeared on its naked scalp. Bulges rippled under its skin surface like moles burrowing in soft ground. It convulsed once, then its skin tautened as muscles defined themselves where smooth flesh had been a moment before.

Its fingers shifted their grip, leaving red pock marks on the man's skin wherever they had been. Its thumbs forced his mouth open as the creature extended its startlingly long red tongue. It placed its lips gently on the man's in an obscene parody of a kiss.

He struggled harder.

Thin, translucent tendrils exuded from the thing's body. They waved, blind worms groping in the light. Wherever they touched the man's body, they stuck and burrowed into his flesh. The strands soon tinted pink, then red. The man screamed as if his soul were being sucked from his body.

For all Hart knew, it was. Overcome by the horror, she stumbled back against the wall. As soon as her back touched the smooth surface, her legs gave out, and she slumped to the floor. Stupefied, she stared at the two figures standing locked in malignant embrace.

When the screams stopped, the creature released his victim, who fell backward onto the bed, ripping free from the tendrils that had bound him to it. Those soft, fleshy vessels fell flaccid and were reabsorbed into the thing's body. It caressed itself, running newly wrinkled hands over its body. It spun on one foot and flung itself backward onto the bed.

Hart stared at the two figures sprawled across the bed. The mirror above them reflected two faces and two bodies. There was little to distinguish them. One wore jockey shorts and dark blue socks. The other, flushed with health, was naked. Wilson's creation had lived up to its billing. It had become a living copy of the man she had led here.

Doppelganger.

That was the name Wilson had given it. A creature that could take on the identity of another. Having seen it perform, she knew that her earlier fear of it was more than justified. She hoped fervently never to become prey to it or any other like it.

She forced herself up, using the wall as a brace. Overriding her knees' desire to buckle, she warily approached the bed. The doppelganger didn't move.

The sexless thing was neuter no longer, but emphatically male. Its skin was flushed with blood and its chest rose and fell with its panting. It languidly watched her with half-closed eyes. She stripped the man of his shorts and socks. Not wanting to get close to the doppelganger, she balled up the garments and tossed them.

Its hand flickered up to snatch them out of the air. The somnolent predator sniffed the clothes before letting them fall to its side. It grinned back at her, the ivory ridges behind the lips now differentiated into teeth that she was sure would match its victim's dental pattern. The stolen face was distorted with a look that was pure perversion.

"Why don't you stay awhile?" it rasped, sounding like the man might have a sore throat.

"You know the schedule." At least she hoped it did. The chip emplaced within its datajack was supposed to feed it instructions once the change triggered it.

It just leered at her.

Her skin crawled with disgust. She turned away to hide her reaction. Hart felt its eyes on her as she walked slowly to the bathroom. The sensation was unpleasant, wholly unlike the feeling she had felt the last time she had taken that path. She was glad to slip into the coveralls that were in the satchel. Feeling less exposed, she picked up the satchel and re-entered the bedroom.

"All right, Jenny," She was surprised to hear how steady was her voice. "Let's get on with it."

The ocean on the far wall flickered and went out. The door it had concealed opened, and her ground team emerged from the adjoining suite. They all wore their DocWagon uniforms. Sloan and Black Dog were picture-perfect DocWagon paramedics, though Greta looked particularly silly in her nurse's outfit. But then Ork women looked silly in whatever they wore.

Now that she was no longer alone with the doppelganger, more of her confidence returned. "Jenny, where's the air?"

"Kurt's got the veetole hanging behind the Mitsuhama building." The tremor in Jenny's voice told Hart that her decker had seen at least some of the process and was equally affected by the sight. They would have to talk later. Right now, they had the important business of getting out, which Hart was very eager to do.

Greta and Black Dog went right to work putting the man on the collapsible gurney that came out of the Ork's case. Sloan stood to one side, glancing back and forth between the doppelganger and its victim.

"Pretty good make-up job," he said to the thing in the bed. "Hardly tell you is an albino."

"I have some special advantages," it replied casually. Already its voice sounded more like its victim's normal tones.

Sloan chuckled. "Yeah, I bet. Hope you pull it off, chummer."

"Come on, Sloan. Give the others a hand," Hart snapped. She ignored his scowl and addressed Jenny. "Any traffic in the area?"

"A few private blips, but Lone Star patrols are all elsewhere. All 'Wagons down or already got passengers."

"Put out the call. Kurt can move as soon as he gets it. Full sirens. He's on a mission of mercy, after all." Hart smiled grimly as she watched them strap the man's limp body onto the gurney. Operation Turncoat had just passed a major milestone.

With Sloan's help, she bound her hair quickly and snugged it beneath a soft green cap. After fastening the front of her uniform, she shrugged the strap of the satchel over her shoulder. She, of course, was the doctor.

"All set."

"Yuh," Greta replied as she slid the last tongue into the last buckle. "Baby's ready for his ride."

"Jenny, lock up here as soon as we're out. Then you're riding cover for us." Hart checked the trideo feed that Jenny had set up to ensure that the hall outside was empty. "All right. Let's roll."

13.

Some kind of turmoil was brewing in the back of the main room. The flash of pale green uniforms amid the varicolored finery of the club's clientele gave him a moment's warning of what to expect before the crowd was split by a bellowing Ork nurse. She was using her size to cut a path for the gurney that followed her. Two attendants wheeled the cart and its passenger under the direction of a woman in a DocWagon physician's coverall. Between the oxygen mask and the blankets swathing the patient, Sam had no clue to the person's identity or condition.

The doctor was a different matter. A cloth mask obscured most of her face, but her bronze eyes told him what he needed to know. She winked at him.

"That's them, Hanae. Time to go."

With most of the crowd gathering around to see the impromptu show, he and Hanae had little trouble slipping into the mostly vacated area near the doorway to the landing pad. Through the glass, Sam could see a Federated Boeing Commuter with DocWagon markings come in for a landing. The tilt-wing's great rotors kicked up dust as the VTOL craft settled dead center on the landing circle.

The medical team cleared the crowd and dashed for the doors. Sam pulled one open to ease their way. The Ork shouldered the other open and the gurney slid through. The runners raced across the pad, leaving Sam and Hanae at the door. Roe was the first on board, guiding the cart through the hatchway.

Sam and Hanae ran for the plane.

The throaty roar of the craft's engines could not drown the high-pitched whine as the screamer on Sam's wrist went off. Floodlights winked on, filling the pad with light. Through the glare, Sam looked for Roe in the VTOL, but she had disappeared.

Inside the club, red-uniformed guards were struggling to get through the crowd around the door. Along the strings of pads, armored Renraku security men pelted toward the club's landing pad.

The leading guards called for them to halt. Hanae did so, almost instinctively obedient. Sam shoved her back in motion. There was no stopping now.

They reached the aircraft just as the first squad reached the edge of the landing pad. The sound from the Commuter changed its pitch as the engines increased power for takeoff. Hanae scrambled up, but her bag caught on the edge of the hatch. Sam ripped the strap from her shoulder and let the satchel tumble to the concrete. Hanae started to grab for it, but Sam gave her a hard push forward. She fell in a heap inside the passenger compartment, and he leaped in after her. Behind them, Hanae's mementoes spilled out across the landing pad, scattered and lost to the night by the wash of the aircraft's props.

"This is your last warning," boomed the amplified voice of the helmeted guard captain. "Shut down your motors."

The female Ork swung into the hatchway. The Ares Predator looked almost small in her huge fist. "Frag off!"

Her gun boomed, sending guards scattering in all directions. One sprawled flat on his back.

The guards returned fire. Their automatic weapons spattered gel slugs across the hull of the VTOL. One had swapped the standard duty magazine for another that carried lethal ammunition. His slugs chipped at the aircraft's hull, stitching a path that ended at the Ork. She grunted with the impact, but remained standing in the hatchway.

"Gotta do better than that to take old Greta down, you bloody breeders."

One guard took her at her word, placing his shot between her eyes. She tumbled from the plane as it lifted from the pavement. Wind howled through the open hatchway as the VTOL headed up and away from the arcology.

"What went wrong?" Sam shouted to Roe.

She shrugged. "My decker wasn't as good as he thought. Sorry."

Sam reached out and grabbed the knife hilt he saw protruding from Roe's boot. She watched quietly as he slid the blade under the band on his wrist. With a grunt and a twist, he sliced through the tough plastic. He threw the band across the compartment, where it caught in the slipstream and whisked out the door. Sam tossed the knife to Roe, who caught its hilt.

"Thanks," he said, turning to comfort Hanae, whose closed eyes leaked tears.

Roe slipped the knife back into its sheath. "Black Dog, get that hatch closed."

The man she addressed rose and tugged the panel across the opening. As he latched it, the noise level dropped dramatically. The other runner took advantage to lean across to Roe.

"What about Greta?"

"What about her, Sloan?" Roe stripped off the doctor's cap and shook out her hair. "She knew the odds."

"She was one tough lady. Real wiz in a fight," Sloan eulogized. "Gonna miss her."

"Enough to pass up the extra share you get?" Black Dog asked.

Sloan sent him an evil look. "I'll take the share, but I'll miss her."

"Till you're into your next chip," Black Dog muttered.

"You shuddup."

"Take more than you to do it, chiphead."

Sloan reached under his tunic. The gun he pulled was small and black, but Roe kicked it out of his hand.

"Save it, you two. When this run is over, you can tear each other's throats out. Until then, you work for me. We're all pals and it's business as usual. Got it?"

"Yuh. Just business," Black Dog agreed with a grin. Sloan nodded sullenly.

They flew on without further conversation until the Commuter tilted suddenly. Hanae was thrown from her own seat into Sam's lap and Sloan crashed to the deck. The others barely managed to keep their seats and the gurney tugged at its moorings, threatening to slip them.

"What're you fragging doing up fragging there, Kurt?" Black Dog howled.

"Company on our tail," came the shrill reply from the cockpit. "Raku hot air."

"How bad?" Roe asked tensely.

"Computer pegs it as a hopper jet. A little less maneuverable than we are, but more than enough firepower to burn our tail. They're offering to do just that if we don't put down right away."

"Drek!" Sloan exclaimed as he scrambled back to his seat. "Roe, we gonna get fried. This crate can't go up against anything with armor or guns."

"On ice, Sloan," Roe ordered. "Kurt, keep close to the buildings. They won't shoot if it risks hitting one of their corporate bedmates' towers. And turn off the radio. You don't need them distracting you."

"Gotcha," he shouted back as he banked the VTOL. "I'll head for the Mitshuhama Tower. Hellfire, those nuts might take down the Raku ship on general principles."

"Sure," Black Dog moaned. "So they can haul us in themselves."

"No plan's perfect," Roe observed. "Do it, Kurt."

The flight became a roller coaster ride as Kurt took the Commuter through a series of maneuvers not intended by the craft's designers. Through it all, he always managed to keep some valuable piece of real estate between them and their pursuers, preventing the latter from opening fire. The people clinging to stanchions and seats in the passenger compartment could do nothing but rely on the pilot. Sam prayed, but he knew that their luck, or their fuel, would run out sooner or later.

Hanae huddled against Sam, clinging to him rather than her seat. He felt her shaking and smelled the sweat of her fear. Suddenly she gripped him tighter. He looked down to see her staring out the window into the darkness.

"What is it?"

"I don't know," she replied. 'I thought I saw . . . There! There it is again."

At first all he saw was darkness and the lights of the metroplex. Then he saw the shadowy, serpentine shape briefly eclipsing the neon demon shapes adorning the Az-technology pyramid. Sam didn't want to credit his eyes.

The winged form flashed through the lights of the Commuter and cut back behind it. As the VTOL banked again, Sam saw the creature breathe a short burst of flame. The backflash shone on the beast, highlighting its rainbow feathers, scaly snout, and ivory dagger teeth. He could deny his eyes no longer. That was a Dragon in the skies of Seattle.

The beast was not much longer than the aircraft, but the breadth of its wings made it seem much larger. But then any Dragon was too large. Was it here to destroy them? Renraku used black ice against computer intruders. Did it unleash Dragons against those who ran from the company?

Sam watched in fascination as the Dragon cut around the Commuter and rushed toward their pursuers. The Renraku pilot reacted instantly, skittering his jet sideways in a burst of directed thrust before banking up and away.

"They're running," Kurt screeched triumphantly from the cockpit. "Something spooked them."

"A Dragon," Sam said in a voice suddenly hoarse. He looked directly at Roe.

"Tessien," she said. "We work together."

Sam waited for her to say more, but she merely stood up and made her way forward to the cockpit. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Lord, you send strange salvations.

Once again, Sam was flying off into the Seattle night, involved in somebody else's plots. The first time was bad enough, but now there was a Dragon involved. What else had Roe neglected to tell them? What had he and Hanae gotten into?

Part 2 It's a Different World

14.

All night long they were shunted from place to place in an assortment of vehicles. Roe told him that all the shuffling was supposed to throw off any pursuit, but Sam realized it was also to confuse him and Hanae so that they could never expose any facilities or people that were part of the runners' network. Despite it all, Sam knew they were somewhere in the Redmond Barrens. He could smell the infamous "Tacoma aroma." Not even the best shadowrunner trick could hide that.

The Redmond Barrens was not a nice place. Covering most of the old city of Tacoma, the Redmond District was officially part of the Seattle metroplex, but it was a slum mostly neglected by the government. That was even more true for Lone Star Security Services, who held the police contract for the plex. From what Sam had glimpsed during the transfers between vehicles, some parts of the district looked as though they had been through a war. The rest looked like the war was still going on.

The building where the van finally stopped was an old automobile sales facility, full of hollow echoes and old grease. The vehicle sat in a repair bay. When the bleary-eyed passengers rolled up the back door to debark, they found the feathered serpent coiled and waiting for them.