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The laser gunner rounded the corner. He advanced ^.

boldly, confident in his firepower and the protective i; virtues of his armor. His support team fired past him from protected positions. ^, The shriek of tortured metal from the cylinders atla187 his side brought the ork to a wary halt. One of the cannisters midway up the pile had bulged out as if hammered by some immense force. Metal squealed again as the cylinder distended anew. With an ear- splitting screech, the abused container split. A trans- lucent green column of chemical gel arced from the fissure, curving unnaturally to reach for a Mihn-Pao guard who had used the end of the stack as cover.

Tentacle-like, it wrapped around the man. He screamed at its touch. Cloth and flesh blackened, hiss- ing and bubbling under the touch of the toxic slime.

The gunner reacted quickly. He swiveled his laser and triggered the weapon. The dazzling beam speared the chemical tentacle halfway along its length, pierc- ing it and puncturing more cannisters. Chemicals sprayed from the newly ruptured tanks. As if with ma- lign intent, the streams arched and flowed into the ten- tacle. As its volume increased, the malefic limb swelled and sagged towards the floor, the dark swirl- ing stains from the laser's strike dispersing throughout its bulk. It released the guard it had attacked. He dropped to the concrete and lay twisted, skin blisteredand seared.

The gelid mass did not flow to spread out on the floor of the warehouse. It wobbled, an uncanny mound growing ever larger. Pseudopods extended from near the top of the column and stretched forward in parody of arms. Nearer the base, another tentacle grew and flowed out to touch the floor. The shape lurched, its mass shifting forward toward that new contact. It was no longer amorphous. A stretching, rounded mockery of a man, it stepped clear of the cylinders.

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The gunner pumped two more shots into it, starting new swirls of discoloration. Chemicals boiled where the beams pierced the shape. All the terrible energy he unleashed seemed to have no other effect.

Behind the thing, newly ruptured cylinders contributedmore to its mass.

The ork scrambled out of its path, backing away until he was forced to stop by one of the roof's sup- porting columns. Eyes darting between the advancing horror and his weapon, the gunner fumbled with the laser's settings. A high-pitched capacitor whine over- whelmed the shrill beeping of the overload warning.

The ork ignored the sounds, training the laser once again on the monstrous thing that stalked him.

With a sizzling crack, the weapon discharged. No longer a brief pulse, the beam was an eye-searing line of en- ergy. The gunner's backpack smoked as the power cells emptied their energy into the shape. Acrid green smoke rose from the surface as the chemicals bubbled and blackened. The pale color darkened, going opaque, and the thing seemed to shrink back. The ork's face contorted as his relief shifted to a savage glee.

He took a step forward.

His elation vanished as the shape surged, elongating toward him like a cresting wave. His scream was cutoff as he was engulfed. Like sand washing from a hand, his flesh flowed away from his bones. The shape flowed past him, curving and reforming in the center of the aisle. It lurched in the direction of the next nearest Mihn-Pao guard. Behind it a pitted, scorched skeleton tumbled into a heap with the corroded plastic and metal parts that had been the ork's gear.

Glover grabbed Twist by the arm. The American was staring at the spectacle, a horrified expression on his face. The last mooring line hung forgotten in his hands. Twist didn't react, and Glover cast free the last line by himself.

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Robert N. Charrette "Let's go," he shouted to the elf.

The boat's engine roared to life. Gathering speed, the boat headed for the opening door.Once they were through, it would be a short run across the strait to the coast, where they would be harder to spot. Then, a quick run along the New Ter- ritories. Once they crossed the Enclave border into the maritime jurisdiction of Kungshu, they would be safe.

At least from corporate pursuit. The warlords of the Chinese mainland were united on very little, but re- sisting further intrusions by the extranational corpo- rations was one cause that bound them. Whatever their history and present ambitions, those warlords all re- membered the glittering prize of Hong Kong that was supposed to belong to China and how their pride had been torn and shredded when the region had ripped free from China's control during the troubled times of the early part of the century.

Glover could understand how they felt. Britain had been duped and taken advantage of in that disgraceful episode as well. Believing that the British governmentwould have a guiding role in reestablishing the thriv- ing community that had been the Crown Colony and desperately desiring the bounty such a restored en- clave would bring, the government had ignored the warnings of the druidic community. But the corps'

en- couragement of Britain's participation had been a sham, a way to rally certain elements and pull them into the struggle and thus minimize corporate involve- ment. They so disliked expending assets when unnec- essary.

Had the political leaders listened to those wiser and less avaricious heads, Britain's honor would not have been sullied by participation in the multinational mega- corporations' schemes that ultimately resulted in their control of Hong Kong. Britain had been used. The multinational corporations funding the rebellion had .

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also funded dissident warlords, using the breakupof the repressive Shui regime to grab and hold Hong Kong and the New Territories for themselves. Those corpo- rations renamed their corporate state the Hong Kong Free Enterprise Enclave. When Britain stepped for- ward to claim control, there had been laughter in the boardrooms. The corps had already obtained grants to the disputed territories from a dozen warlords in trade for arms and supplies. It wasn't strictly legal, but they had possesion. The few British ambassadors to Chi- nese leaders who hadn't had "accidents" were sent away in shame. Liaisons to the corporate consortium waited for appointments that never materialized.

The whole dishonorable episode was over and done before Glover had been born, but he felt the pain as if he had been one of those embarrassed ambassadors.

Growing up, he had heard the stories from veterans of the expeditionary force, and had wondered why they didn't match the official histories he was taught inschool. It wasn't until he was at university and under the tutelege of druids that he learned the true story.

The duplicity and betrayals were so much like what he himself saw in Britain today. He had become certain that the megacorporations would very much like to see Britain dead, and that certainty had crystallized his belief that Britain could only be restored to glory by a return to the old ways.

They crossed the strait without incident and turned northward along the coast. Within an hour they would reach the inlet where the aircraft was hidden. Then, he would be on his way home with the prize that would make possible the first steps in restoring the glory that was Britain.

He looked back across the dark water. The glittering spires of Hong Kong were alight with the dazzle of false promises. They were ugly. This place made him feel soiled; he set his thoughts to the future.

8.

Sam stared at Dodger. The elf sat slumped in the padded armchair he had appropriated, lost in the world of the Matrix, his fingers occasionally tapping a stac- cato rhythm on his Fuchi cyberdeck. Dodger looked relaxed, which was annoying. Sam poked him.

"Find anything yet?"

"By all that's good on the earth! Do you want to do it yourself?"

The elf's annoyance triggered Sam's own pent-up frustration. "Maybe I should!"

"Maybe you should just ask our host to shoot you.

Glover's system is tough; it's a lot better protected than it should be. You may have been a hotshot researcher but you never were much of a decker. Besides, you're months behind the SOTA."

The elf's harsh appraisal of his abilities stung. "I don't need to be state-of-the-art to bust his hincky sys-tem."

Dodger laughed scornfully. "You're so hot! So sure!

This 'hincky system' has got protection that has fried deckers better than you could ever dream of being."

"Well, if you're not getting anywhere, somebody has to."

"I've been working the deck for three days now.

There are layers of this system that are glacial with 1C.

Positively cryogenic. You want to fry your brain? Do it with somebody else's hardware. I won't have you getting my chips iced just because you can't wait for a professional to do his job."

Dodger was right, of course. The elf was a pro at .

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unauthorized computer access. Even with the elf's guidance, Sam had been a barely adequate decker when they had run against the Renraku architecture last year. With all of his magical study and firearms practice, Sam had found no time to pursue Dodger's peculiar technomancy. Besides, the computer inter- face still gave Sam headaches, and the awakening of his magical powers had made the Matrix an even moreuncomfortable place. His brash assertions and chal- lenge of Dodger's competence were just manifesta- tions of his frustrations.

"I'm sorry, Dodger. You're right. Do what you can."

" 'Twould seem my own patience is frayed as well, Sir Twist. I like this enforced guesting no more than you. 'Twould be best not to disturb me whilst I work, for I spoke truly of the devilish complexity of the sys- tem. Were you to distract me at the wrong moment, you would learn nothing more than how to care for an elven vegetable."

"That's not something I want to do, Dodger. Just let me know when you get something."

"I shall. But wander not too far lest you not be available should their ice lock me in."

"I'll be here," said Sam.

Dodger smiled with confidence. "I shall count on it."

The elf returned his attention to the Matrix, leaving Sam to contemplate their position. Glover had broughtthem to England, alleging that he needed them to pro- tect Corbeau now that Burke was gone. Some need!

The flight had been uneventful, Corbeau being deliv- ered to a minor ATT installation without incident.

Glover had told them to wait at his mansion, offering a handsome retainer. That had been four days ago.

Four days in which they had not seen or heard from Glover.

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Robert N. Charrette Sam had already been suspicious of Glover's mo- tives. He didn't like the man's attitude. Why had he let Dodger talk him into continuing to work with the man? Why? Because of the chance to find Janice.

That slim hope had dwindled to nothing. Janice was on Yomi; she couldn't be further away from England.

But leaving wouldn't be simple. The mansion's pop- ulation seemed to consist only of a handful of ser- vants, who knew nothing. They were polite andefficient, but totally unhelpful. There were uniformed guards with guns as well, but he and Dodger only saw them when they tried to go beyond the immediate grounds. So far everyone had remained polite, but he was sure that the guards had orders to prevent Sam and Dodger from leaving the estate. Sam had tried an astral survey of the place and found many of the rooms blocked to him. He hadn't tried to get through those blocks, for there were half-world presences drifting around the mansion, hostile spirits that threatened him when he attempted to probe in certain directions.

As much as he disliked his surroundings and the treatment they were receiving, he knew that he couldn't just leave. He had seen the thing Glover had sum- moned in the Mihn-Pao warehouse. All of his senses screamed that it was wrong. His hair had stood on end when he had seen it form, his head throbbing with a warning howl. Glover had called it, and the list Dodger retrieved from Glover's computer said that he wanted a woman who might be his sister Janice. Now,whether or not the woman Glover sought was Janice, Sam wanted to know just who he had been working for.

He had to know more about Glover and his organization.

It was hours before Dodger jacked out. His eyes were sunken and rimmed with the bruising of exhaus- tion.

" 'Twould seem that Rene' Corbeau is not now nor ever has been connected to ATT."

"You're sure?"

The elf quirked his mouth up in annoyance.

"Sorry." Sam ran his fingers up through his beard until his palms cradled his jaw. "Then Glover is a rogue."

" 'Tis a strong possibility."

"What about Burke?"

"The man is a shadow. There are tracks here and there, the occasional oblique reference, but all vanishif followed. Naetheless, the pattern is similar to one I.

have seen before. That shadow was a covert operative for the British government. By all the signs, I would venture that the late Burke was a special agent of some kind."

"A government agent?"

Dodger sighed. "You have been unbearable for days.

Have you gone deaf now, too?"

"Sorry, Dodger." The apologies were becoming a habit. Sam's nerves were frayed, but Dodger's must be worse. The elf had been doing all the hard work.

"Apology accepted, Sir Twist." Dodger massaged his forehead, then stared down at his hands.

Without looking up, he said, "I fear that I have not helped matters, either. I wish I had never gotten you involved in this."

"I got myself involved. You may have found the list with a name that might be my sister's, but I was the one who decided to chase that phantom. Going to theOrient was supposed to get us closer to her trail. We were supposed to find out what Glover was doing and who the woman was. Now look at us. We're in En- gland and practically under house arrest. We still don't know anything."

"Not entirely true. We know that Glover, ATT rogue or not, is part of an efficient organization.