I was awakened by sunlight filtering in past the shade. I began to stretch, then realized that I had a warm shape nestled in my arms. The previous night's events wormed their way back into my memory. I removed my left arm from Jack's waist and attempted to pull my right arm out from under her shoulders without waking her.

I was unsuccessful. She stirred, blinked, and yawned. I finished retrieving my arm and sat up, turning around to face Jack. She yawned again and smiled sleepily up at me.

"Morning," I said.

She mumbled agreement, then asked, "What time is it?"

I checked a wall display and answered, "Half past eleven."

She digested that, then slowly sat up, still blinking sleep from her eyes. "So what's the plan for today, O Fearless Leader?" she asked.

"How about we get up, grab a bite to eat, then I'll call a couple of friends of mine who might be able to help?" I suggested.

"Sounds good to me," Jack replied. "Especially the bit about breakfast. I haven't eaten since yesterday morning." She chuckled softly. "My original plan was to get you to buy me dinner, but then that suit showed up..." She trailed off.

There was something about that Jack's statement that produced a nagging feeling that I was forgetting something, but I couldn't pin it down. Shaking my head, I replied, "You wouldn't have had to do much convincing - I didn't get dinner last night either." I stood up, stretched, and headed for my closet to get clean clothes.

Jack climbed out of bed, stretched, cat-like, and leaned over to pick up her deck and bag. "Where can I go to change into something clean?" she asked.

I turned towards her, opening my mouth to answer, then I caught sight of the deck in her hand. Suddenly the suspicion in the back of my mind clicked. "Oh, bloody fragging drek!" I exclaimed.

Jack looked up at me, surprised. "What?" she inquired.

"We've got to get out of here!" I told her, forgetting about clean clothes. I scooped up my emergency bag, looking around to think what I should put in it.

"Why?" Jack asked, confused.

"It's not safe here," I told her. "They know where we are."

"What! How?" Jack asked.

"Your deck," I replied. "They traced your deck before; they can do it again. And you were jacked in for an hour or two here last night. That's plenty of time for a trace."

Jack, understanding, began to pack as she talked. "So why didn't they come get us while we were sleeping?"

I followed her lead, packing as I talked. I chucked my deck in on top of the changes of clothes already in my bag, following it with the little pile of credsticks we'd taken off the suit.

"I don't know, really," I answered. "I figure they're probably going to be a little more cautious than they were before. They must know by now that we killed their last hit man. Regardless, it doesn't seem safe to stay here."

I picked up the credstick reader I'd made the night before, shrugged, and dumped it into my bag. After a second's hesitation, I fished my swords out of my closet and tucked them into my bag. The leaf-bladed short sword fit nicely, but I had to work a little to get the broadsword to go in.

"Swords?" Jack inquired. "This isn't the Middle Ages."

"You never know," I told her. "We may need any weapon we can lay our hands on. Which reminds me..." I picked up the suit's slivergun. "Do you know how to use this?"

Jack hesitated. "I'm no street samurai, but I know what to push to get bullets to come out."

"Good. Take it." I handed her the gun.

Jack accepted the gun, shrugged, and stuffed it in the inside pocket of her jacket. I put on my coat and tucked my own little gun away in its place, shouldered my bag, and asked, "Are you ready to go?"

Jack stuck her wand through her belt, picked up her own bag, and nodded. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"Somewhere not here," I replied, ambiguously. "Somewhere where we can call my friends."

I led the way out of the room, waiting for Jack so I could close and lock the door. As I did so, I realized that my roommate still hadn't returned, and his keycard was still lying on his desk. I shrugged, figuring that it really didn't matter, and headed down the stairs.

The bright sunlight outside was a shock after the warm darkness of my room, and I was forced to squint as I scanned the area. Seeing nothing unusual, I led the way up the street to the nearest public telecom. Seeing that the booth was empty, I stepped inside. After considering possible risks, I decided that using my own credstick would be safer than using Jack's or the suit's. Jacking in and avoiding the whole matter was also a possibility, but I didn't really want to get my deck out in a public telecom booth in broad daylight, and, anyway, it would take more time.

Having made that decision, I whipped my credstick out, stuck it in the slot on the telecom, and activated the 'com. An idea came to me, and I placed the call to the UVM central computer instead of to my friends' telecom. It didn't take much dickering to get the college machine to redirect my feed to where I really wanted it to go. Now, no one consulting the telecom's records would be able to tell where the call really went. With luck, they'd never realize that it went anywhere but UVM.

The telecom displayed the waiting pattern while my friend Joe's telecom signaled for his attention. It took quite some time for Joe to answer. When his bearded face appeared on the screen, I noticed that he was wearing his working clothes and his face had splotches of grease on it.

"Eh? Oh, hi, Tom," the dwarf said. "Sorry it took so long t' answer. I was just out in the shop doin' some work on the Tank."

"Hi, Joe," I replied. "Is the Tank running? I've got troubles here and I need some help."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, she's runnin'. You need me to come pick ya up?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied. "As soon as possible. Round up Max, too, if you can - and tell him to come loaded for bear."

"Uh-oh. That kinda trouble," the dwarf muttered. Then, louder, he continued, "I'll hurry. Thirty minutes, I'll be there. Where'd'ya wanta meet us?"

"How about the bridge over I-89, there by the U. Mall?" I suggested.

"Sounds good. See ya," Joe agreed.

"Bye," I answered, and closed the link.

I turned and stepped out of the booth, heading over to where Jack was leaning against a low concrete wall, waiting for me.

"So? What's the score?" she asked, as soon as I got near.

"My friends are coming to get us," I answered. "They can take us to someplace safe where we can do a little planning. In the meantime, we have to get moving."

"If anyone's watching us, I haven't noticed them," she objected.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean they aren't there," I noted.

"I spotted that suit long before you did," Jack countered. She picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, however.

"I've nothing against your powers of observation," I began, "but..." Seeing the glint in Jack's eye, I broke off. "Never mind. I told our ride we'd be up the street a ways." I turned and headed up the hill towards the interstate.

"'A ways'? Could you be less specific, please?" Jack said, as she moved to follow me.

"The bridge over the interstate up here," I clarified. "It's a kilometer or two. Easy walk."

Jack raised an eyebrow at that, but fell in behind me, without any objection. It was a beautiful Saturday morning, and Burlington's streets were already crowded with the vehicles of people out for a day of shopping. I kept one eye out for the Tank. Even in this traffic it should be easy to spot. The Tank was a old '41 Super-Suburban, and it was twice the size of just about anything else on the road.

We were walking along, when suddenly Jack stopped. "Tom, do you hear that?" Jack asked.

I strained my ears and didn't hear anything. "No," I began, then I caught a hint of the sound of sirens. "Sirens?"

"Yeah, that's what it sounds like," Jack replied, nervously.

"Don't worry... it's probably nothing to do with us," I responded, reassuringly. I wasn't sure whether I was trying to reassure her or myself. Either way, it didn't work, but we both pretended that it had. We walked faster. The sirens were getting louder, and I was soon able to tell that they were coming from behind us. I kept expecting to look over my shoulder and see blue flashers behind me.

It didn't happen. The sirens stopped before they got that close to us, but they certainly made for a nervous walk. By the time we reached the overpass I'd told Joe to meet us at, my lip was bleeding from biting it. I stopped on the bridge and waited, searching the stream of traffic for the Tank's familiar green hull.

"What are we looking for?" Jack asked. I noticed that she had an assemblage of leather and beads in her hands, and she was worrying the beads between her fingers. It somehow gave me a sort of contrary comfort to see that she was as nervous as I was.

"A big old green Suburban," I replied, "with a dwarf driving."

"Sounds easy enough to spot," Jack remarked, scanning the cars as they passed.

It wasn't long before I spotted the Tank coming down the interstate from the north. I pointed. Jack's gaze followed my finger, and she nodded.

I growled annoyance, and said, when Jack gave me a surprised look, "We're on the wrong side of the road. They're going to be over there," I gestured to the other side of the bridge, "when they come off the off-ramp."

"That's easy enough to fix," Jack replied, turning to the street. Her bright blue eyes searched the stream of traffic. Suddenly she called, "Come on!" and snatched my hand, tugging me into the street, through a gap in the flow of cars I didn't even see until we were through it and on the other side of the road.

I paused to catch my breath. "Reminds me of a joke I just made up," I told Jack. "Why did the chicken cross the road?"

"Oh, Lord," Jack said, rolling her eyes. "Why?"

"He was tailing the elf." Just then the Tank came around the curve of the off-ramp and onto the bridge, which saved me, I think, from dire retaliation. The big Suburban slowed to a near stop beside us, one of the rear doors swinging open. I pushed Jack towards it, then scrambled in behind her. I slammed the door shut as the big vehicle picked up speed and turned onto the interstate on-ramp.

Besides Jack and myself, the Suburban had two other occupants. The driver was the dwarf I had talked to earlier - Joe Aleshire. Joe was short and stout, like most dwarves. He kept his brown beard trimmed reasonably short, shorter than most dwarves wore their beards. Whenever anyone mentioned it, he said that he didn't want it getting caught in machinery. Joe was still wearing the grubby jeans and blue-grey shirt he'd had on when he'd received my call, and I noticed a wrench tucked into his breast pocket.

The Tank was Joe's baby; he'd inherited her eight years earlier, and had spent a good portion of the last eight years tinkering with her, improving her performance and adding features. Just then, it would have almost been accurate to say that Joe was the Tank, for he had the rig hooked into his temple, and was directly sensing and controlling the big vehicle.

"Where're we goin', Tom?" Joe asked, without looking at me - most of his attention was on his driving.

"Back to your place, I guess," I replied.

Joe didn't answer, merely nodded and guided the Tank into the flow of traffic on the interstate, northbound.

From behind me came a deep, rumbling voice. "Since Tom doesn't see fit to introduce us, I suppose we'll have to manage on our own. I'm Maxwell Xavier Orson-Jones."

The speaker was another old friend of mine, a three meter tall troll. He sat cross-legged on the floor of the Tank's roomy cargo section, but still had to duck his head to keep from banging his head on the roof. Despite his cramped condition, his clothes, somewhat too dressy for the occasion, were perfectly neat, and the dark hair above his homely face was impeccably combed. In one massive hand he held a shotgun, the stock replaced with a troll-sized pistol grip.

Jack extended her hand to the troll. "I'm Jack... Jacqueline LeFae," she responded. Max shifted his shotgun to his other hand, took Jack's hand in his, and, as delicately as his massive bulk could manage, he leaned down and kissed the back of Jack's hand. Jack started, visibly resisting the urge to pull her hand away from Max's long, lethal-looking tusks. For a moment, she wavered between going pale with terror and blushing, then finally gave in to blushing.

"Charmed to meet you," Max rumbled, evidently not noticing Jack's predicament. He was probably used to it, come to think of it.

Jack extricated her hand and turned to me. "So, who's your other friend?" she asked.

"Joe Aleshire," I replied. "We can properly introduce you two sometime when he isn't plugged into the Tank."

Just then the music on the radio faded out (Joe generally listened to rock and roll from the late twentieth century) and the DJ started to talk. I listened with half an ear until something caught my attention.

"In local news," the announcer said, "a firefight in the Church Street Underground Complex parking garage left one dead of apparently magical causes. A police spokesperson says that they have no suspects as yet, but they are continuing to look into the matter. It's twelve noon, and time for forty minutes of non-stop rock. From the penthouse suite on the waterfront in Burlington..."

I turned to Jack. "Looks like we made the news," I said.

"That last item?" Max inquired.

I nodded silently.

The troll sighed. "How did you ever manage to get mixed up in a homicide?" he asked me.

"You know me," I replied. "Always a sucker for a damsel in distress."

"I assume," Max commented, "that Jacqueline, here, is the 'damsel' - as well as the mage involved in the incident?" At my nod, Max continued, "What was the guy? A mugger or ganger...?"

I shook my head. "You're way short," I told Max. "It looks like he was corp heat of some sort, tailing us. He tried to grab Jack, and we fought back. Better than he'd expected, evidently. If you want to know why, you'll have to ask Jack."

Max turned to her. "Jack?"

She closed her eyes and nodded tiredly. "After we get to wherever we're going, when I can have Joe's full attention. I don't want to explain this more than once."

Max nodded and settled back against the Tank's side wall, his yellow eyes scanning the road behind us. After a little while, he said, "If you were being tailed before, you've lost them now. There's no one following us."

I grinned. "The way Joe drives, they'd have to have a chopper to follow us." It was true. Joe handled the big Suburban like it was a sports car, slipping through traffic in a manner that would have been impressive in a car half the size of the Tank. Joe kept the Tank rumbling along at about fifteen kph faster than the traffic flow.

Within fifteen minutes we were rolling into the driveway of Joe's combination house and shop in downtown Milton. The garage door opened automatically at the Tank's approach, and Joe guided her in, parking her in the service bay. The throaty rumble of the exhaust echoed through the garage, suddenly loud even inside the vehicle, then, just as suddenly, quiet fell as Joe shut down the engine.

Joe tugged the rigger jacks from his temples and booted his door open, clambering down to the ground. Jack and I climbed out of our respective doors and Max unfolded from the Tank's rear doors, stretching and working the crick out of his neck. Max still clutched his shotgun, pistol-like, in one hand. Even as I noticed that, he glanced down at it, shrugged, and tucked it into a shoulder holster.

Joe slammed his door and turned to face us. "So, Tom, what's the emergency?" he asked, cheerfully. "Somethin' t'do with yer new girlfriend, here?"

Jack raised her eyebrows upon hearing Joe's description of her, then, seeing my exasperated expression, gave me an impudent grin. I ignored her obvious amusement and said, "Joe, this is Jacqueline... LeFae?" She nodded, and I added, "Jack to her friends."

"Jack to everybody," Jack interjected. "I hate being called Jacqueline."

"Um... anyway," I continued, "Jack's the one with the problem, which seems to have become mine, as well. She can explain to you both... inside, please. I don't want to stand in the garage all day. And while she's explaining, I'm going to get something to eat. We've neither of us eaten since yesterday morning."

And so it was. Joe and Max sat in Joe's cluttered living room and listened to Jack's story while I scrounged up something to eat in Joe's barren kitchen. When I returned to the living room bearing plates of food, Jack was telling my friends about the previous night's Matrix run and what we'd concluded from it.

"I hope you like cold roast beef," I said to Jack, passing her a fat sandwich. "It's all there is."

"If it's not moving, I'll eat it," Jack replied. "Where was I? Oh, yeah. Anyway, we figure from what we found that this Clark chummer was hired by CI Virtual Services."

"CI?" Max reflected. "They're based right around here. CI Virtual Services' home office is in Burlington. I've done escort duty for them."

That reminded me of something I should have remembered earlier. "I knew the name CI sounded familiar," I exclaimed, around a mouthful of sandwich. The other three turned to look at me as I hastily swallowed. "They're the main Grid provider for the area. That may explain how they tracked Jack's deck so easily."

"Wait, wait. How they what?" Joe asked.

"Oh, sorry. I hadn't gotten to that part," Jack explained.

"We think that they located me after I skipped out at SUNY by tracing my deck's signature. That's the reason we left Tom's dorm in such a hurry this morning. Tom realized that they could track me to UVM just as easily as they could track me to ThoughtWorks."

"I won't pertend I understand th' technical details, really," Joe said. "But I get th'idea. What's that mean fer us now?"

"If Jack uses her deck," I replied, "it'll tell our corporate buddies exactly where she is. So any Matrix running we need done is up to me." I suddenly had another idea. "Unless... Jack, can you use your deck without enchanting it?"

"What? No... not any more. Why?" Jack responded.

"Oh, well," I replied, mildly disappointed. "I thought maybe that would change its signature enough that they wouldn't recognize it."

"I don't think," Max interjected, "that we'll need any decking done any time soon, anyway. We know who our adversary is: CI Virtual Services. I've done work for them. I know who's in charge there, who's really in charge, and what their security setup is like. I think we need to pay them a little visit."

Jack grinned with excitement. "How well do you know the place? Do you think you could get us in?"

"I know their security routine. I'm familiar with some parts of the building and grounds," Max answered. "I may even have an old security pass..." He trailed off, his brow wrinkling thoughtfully.

"Th' question is," Joe said, suddenly, "what d'ya plan on doin' once you get in?"

Jack opened her mouth, then closed it again as she realized she didn't have a quick answer.

"I mean," Joe continued, "obviously, y'can't let 'em keep tryin' t'snatch ya... but what're ya plannin' on doin' t'stop 'em?"

"I hadn't really thought about that," Jack replied, crestfallen. "I don't know. You hear about this sort of thing happening all the time, like out in Seattle and places. What do you suppose real shadowrunners do about stuff like this?"

"Don't ask me," I answered. "I don't think it matters... real shadowrunners have a lot more resources than we do." I chuckled. "Hell, we haven't even got any food left in the kitchen, to say nothing about Fairlight Excaliburs and T-birds and whatever else shadowrunners use."

"We can always order pizza," Max said, grinning his hideous grin. "But I agree, the question is what are we going to do, here and now? Jack, it's your predicament, it's your call."

Jack sagged back into the couch and sighed deeply, staring at the ceiling. "I guess," she said, slowly, "we're going to have to find Mr. Head Corporate Johnson..."

"Rosemond," Max remarked.

"What?" Jack said, raising her head to look at Max in confusion.

"Sidney Rosemond. He's the head of CI Virtual Services," Max explained.

"Oh," Jack replied. "Rosemond, then... and convince him it would be in his best interests to back off."

"Fer that, we'll need to get somethin' on him," Joe observed. "I don't think he's about t' give up just 'cause a coupla chummers show up an' say, 'Pretty please, Mr. Rosemond, we'd like it if you'd leave Jack alone.'"

"Sounds to me like Tom's line of work. Tom - or 'Broadsword', perhaps I should say in this circumstance - do you think you could ferret out something from CI's system that we could use against Rosemond?" Max asked.

I sighed, trying to remember all the decker wisdom I'd ever heard about CI. "If I'm going to try that, we're going to have to get inside their facility. I don't think I can even get to their main computer from here. By all accounts, there's a truly vicious firewall system between their central system and the rest of the Grid. Maybe - just maybe - if I had Jack backing me up... but I'm willing to bet that if she jacks in, we'll have corp heat crawling all over us."

"Think it's maybe worth a shot?" Joe asked. "Couldn't hurt anythin', could it?"

"Could and probably would," I replied, dismally. "If I lived through the attempt - and there's no guarantee of that - well, CI is the local Grid provider. That gives them a major advantage if they try to trace me back here. At the moment, I think this place is secure. I don't want to change that."

"I don't want you t' change that," Joe responded. "I have t' live here." He paused for a moment. "Okay, so decking's out..."

"No," I disagreed. "Decking from here is out. If we can get inside their building, or somewhere else on the other virtual side of their firewall, we can maybe do something."

"That sounds like a plan," Jack said. "Max, you said you could get us in?"

"It is a distinct possibility. I am reasonably certain that I can get myself in."

"Do you think you could get the Tank inside?" I asked.

"Maybe," Max replied. "We could say we were delivering a shipment of something and flash my pass at them."

"If you think it'll work..." Jack said, hesitantly.

"It might," Max answered. "On the other hand, it might get us all killed."

"I've done stupider things," I observed.

"Me too," Jack agreed. "When do we do it?"

"Tonight?" I suggested. "Catch them off-guard? If we can be ready by then, that is."

"They're probably more than ready for us," Max replied. "Security at CI is never lax, and they're probably expecting us."

"But," Joe noted, "from what Tom 'n' Jack say, every minute we stay here is another minute they can use to find us."

"A point," Max agreed.

"We haven't got any more resources to organize, so extra time won't help us," I added.

"I guess we'd best get ready, then," Joe said.

It wasn't much more complicated than that. Max spent an hour or so searching for his CI security pass. After he found it, he spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning, loading, calibrating, and doing more mysterious stuff that I don't pretend to understand to his shotgun and the Ruger revolver that was his idea of a holdout pistol.

Joe headed back out into the garage, evidently to finish whatever he'd been doing to the Tank before I called him. I knew better than to ask if he could use my help, so I just stayed out of his way.

Jack and I hung out in the living room, swapping decker trivia. I told her what I knew (which was not much) about the CI system that we were planning on breaking into that night. She explained to me some of the technical reasoning behind her deck. As long as she stuck to the software and hardware modifications, I pretty well followed her, but when she started getting into the magical (magicware?) modifications, I got completely lost. I've never really understood magic, and I gather that what Jack was doing was esoteric even for sorcery. Actually, my HM 001 teacher insisted that any such use of magic was impossible. Of course, I always thought he was a charlatan, anyway.

After she had succeeded in thoroughly confusing me, Jack excused herself and took her sack into Joe's bathroom. After a little bit, I heard the shower running, so I decided I wasn't going to see Jack for a while.

I took advantage of the time to go through my own bag and decide what I was going to need to take with me. My deck, of course, and my little pistol. Also my short sword, which I figured I could conceal under my coat. I decided that it might be a good idea to have my electronics kit with me, just in case, but I discovered that I'd forgotten to pack it. I wandered out to the garage to see if I could borrow Joe's (He didn't know much about electronics, except as they related to automotive systems, but he had the tools in case he had to fix an ignition system or something.).

Joe was just disconnecting the hosing from some piece of equipment that I didn't recognize. It looked like a cross between a telecom and a garbage can on extreme life support. He looked up at me and grinned through his beard as I entered. "It's amazin' whatcha can do with a good pattern painter," he said, gesturing towards the Tank.

I made the assumption that the device he was messing with was the "pattern painter", and looked up at the Tank. It now had "SPEEDY DELIVERY" painted down the side in bright yellow lettering, along with a lightning bolt. I circled the vehicle, looking it over. On the other side, the Tank had a replacement fender that had never been painted to match the rest of the vehicle. Joe had painted that side so that the "S" and part of the "P" were missing, making it look as if the fender had been replaced after the markings had been painted.

"Nice work," I complimented Joe. "The left fender is a nice touch."

"Thanks. I thought so," he replied. "Didja want somethin'?"

"Oh," I responded, remembering my original reason for coming out. "I was wondering if I could borrow your electronics kit. I thought I might need it tonight."

"Sure," Joe replied. "I'm not usin' it. It's over there somewhere." He gestured.

I found the little package of probes and splicers and pocketed it. Joe, by that time, had popped the hood on the Tank and was doing something inexplicable to the engine. I went back to the living room without interrupting him, and went back to considering what equipment I was going to need.

I had just about decided that I didn't have anything else that would be useful, when the bathroom door opened and Jack stepped out. It was about then that I noticed that the shower was no longer running. (Observant, aren't I?) Jack was barefoot, and wore black jeans and a black turtleneck that provided a sharp contrast to her pale skin. Her damp blonde hair hung loose down her back. I realized again just how beautiful she was, which brought back pleasant memories of waking up that morning with her asleep in my arms. Jack walked over and sat down on the couch beside me. She smelled good too, damn it.

I shook my head and forced myself off that particular train of thought. We had more pressing things to worry about. I admit, however, that I couldn't think of any just at that moment.

"So, Tom," Jack began, "have you thought about the details of how we're going to get in?"

That provided something else for me to think about, so I went with it. "Well, Max has a pass for himself, and I suppose he can justify Joe as the driver... maybe he could say that he needed us to help unload?"

"Maybe," Jack replied, sounding unconvinced. "Remember, though, that they're looking for me, and probably you as well, by now."

"True," I agreed. "But what are the odds that a couple of gate guards are going to know who the division heads are looking for?"

"Better than I want to risk," Jack answered.

I nodded glumly, because, despite my objections, I couldn't help but agree. "I suppose just hiding in the back seat wouldn't work. They're sure to give the Tank at least a cursory search."

"Fortunately," Jack said, "I have a plan."

I raised an eyebrow and waited for her to continue.

"I'm a mage, remember. Among other things, I can cast illusions."

I grinned, seeing where she was going with this.

"You and I, my friend, are getting into the CI complex as a load of boxes."

A few minutes later, Joe emerged from the garage. "Well, I've got th' Tank ready t'go," he greeted us, "except fer findin' somethin' t'use fer cargo. I don't think they'll believe an empty truck's a cargo shipment."

I started to tell him about Jack's plan, but then Max came back into the room, so I started over and told them both. We all thought things over, and decided that there was nothing else we needed to do except kill time until the moment was right. Joe and Max and I got out a deck of cards and started to play a round- robin cribbage tournament (I won consistently, as usual. Joe didn't really play to win, and Max wasn't very good.), while Jack dug a set of books out of her sack and started studying them. Brushing up on her illusions, I guess. After a while, she seemed to decide that she was done, so she put her books away and started braiding her hair. When she was done with that, she had us teach her cribbage, then started whipping our tails at it.

After a while, we ordered pizza for dinner, and turned the telecom on to one of the local news channels while we ate. I happened to glance up at the telecom just as I took a bite of pizza. Surprised, I almost choked on a pepperoni and had a coughing fit. When I recovered, Jack had an arm around my shoulders and was asking if I was okay. I stored that datum for later study and nodded, wiping tears from my eyes.

"I think that was my room they just showed," I informed her and the rest of the group, rising and crossing to the telecom. After a little dickering, I convinced it to replay the news entry that had caught my attention.

It was indeed footage of my room that accompanied the story. "Late this afternoon, Michael St. Vincent," - they cut to an image of my roommate, grinning like an idiot - "discovered an explosive device attached to the door of his dorm room on the UVM campus. It was set to detonate when the door was unlocked. Fortunately, St. Vincent had forgotten his keycard, and had to force the door with the help of a friend, thus gaining entry and discovering the bomb without activating it. Authorities have disabled the bomb and destroyed it without damage. Police are currently without suspects, but they are seeking St. Vincent's roommate for questioning." The telecom went black for a second, then resumed regular programming in the middle of a story about magically altered cow hormones, or some such.

I was silent for a moment, then asked, "Does this change anything?"

"Well," Jack said, "it confirms your guess on one count. They did trace us back to your room. You were wrong on another count, though." At my questioning glance, she continued, "You said they were trying to take me alive. That doesn't seem to fit with the bomb."

"Actually," Max advised us, "it is possible to fabricate an explosive that packs only enough punch to injure and scare, while running a minimal risk of fatalities. In other words, they may have been sending a warning."

"Hell of a warning," I muttered.

"I think we need to find out just how powerful that bomb really was," Max observed.

"Maybe not," Jack disagreed. "If we're successful tonight, it shouldn't matter."

"There is that," Max acknowledged.

"Well, I want to find out," I stated. "It was my room they tried to blow up. Of course, it'll probably be easier to find out if they aren't trying to find us to plant another one."

"That's true. Forward as planned, then?" Jack inquired.

"I guess so," I affirmed.

We finished the pizza in silence, then watched the evening movie. It was a bad remake of one of the twentieth century "Dirty Harry" movies. ("Tell ya the truth, chummer, I can't remember whether I fired eighty shots... or eighty-five.")

After Dirty Harry had thrown his credstick into Puget Sound, we all looked around at each other. I shrugged and stood up, strapped my sword across my back, and pulled my coat on. Jack pulled her boots on and scooped up her sack. Joe stuffed the pizza boxes into the recycler and turned off the telecom. Max rose to his full three meters and tucked his weapons into their places.

"Well, tallyho, excelsior, all for one and one for all, and all that good stuff," I said. We filed out into the garage and took our places in the Tank. Joe drove, Max rode shotgun (literally), and Jack and I sat in the cargo bay. The garage door opened, and the Tank rumbled out into the night.