From: hennessy@acsu.buffalo.edu (DOG BASEBALL!!!)
Subject: Tiberius
Date: 2 Dec 92 20:49:08 GMT


	My friends and I have a Shadowrun campaign (if you don't know what SR
is, it's like a cross between the cyberpunk genre and earth magic), in which I
play a decker/console cowpoke, and occasionally I come up with fiction that
might fit in well with the character.  They said I should post it, so here
goes.  Hope you enjoy it, constructive criticism extremely welcome.  please
also remember that it's a running story, so if you find it at all interesting,
please say so and I'll put more up.

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			TIBERIUS, By Mathew Hennessy
				  Ch. I


	Casually strolling down the cracked sidewalk, Tiberius
approached the infamous Blue Bit Bar'n'Grill, a renowned hangout for
console cowboys and their worshippers.  Strange, he thought, how much
detail they put into this place.  He stood outside the door to
Bluey's, examining the grafitti and knife scratches in the door.
Unwanted visitors were not tolerated at Bluey's, and the bouncers had
a way of making them feel unwelcome.  As Tiberius reached out his hand
to open the door, it swung inward revealing the place.  Low lights
reflected off of glasses at the bar and tables, people sitting in
booths discussing private matters, casual chatter in the more easily
seen sections.  As he stepped in, a large troll loomed on the open
side of the door, checking for ID.  He grinned at Tiberius as he
reached out his long arm to block off the way in behind him.  "Howdy
Tibe.  The place is a little slow tonight.  No trouble at all," the
troll frowned, as he stood there flexing his muscles.  "Howdy Vinny.
Is Reg doing bar tonight?"  "Yep, but not for too long.  He's running
later on.  Got a big tipoff for some serious paydata."  "Hmm..  hope
Trina comes in.  She's got a nice body."  "Yeah," says Vinny, flashing
some misshapen teeth casually, "I like what she's done with it."

	As Tibe slowly enjoyed his Moonbeam, he wandered over to
the door, where Vinny was trying to get rid of some pesky kids.  They
seemed a bit persistent though.  As Vin started to shut the door, one
of the kids pulled a large pistol, with knobs and switches on it,
pointed it at Vinny, and fired.  The other young kid metamorphosed in
place, turning into a large armored troll, and fired his own large
pistol.  Beams of laser light arced out and landed squarely in Vinny's
chest.  At that, Tiberius dropped his drink and whipped out his phaser
and aimed it at the first kid, who had become a fire-breathing
gorilla.  Surprised at this, the gorilla turned to Tibe and breathed a
huge gust of flame at him, but it seemed to wash cleanly away leaving
no evidence it was there.  Meanwhile Vinny seemed shaken, and was
oozing blood, but was still standing and he took a swing at the other
troll with a huge spiky gloved fist.  Tibe's shot hammered the Gorilla
back, leaving him groggy.  Tibe's second shot vaporised the gorilla as
Vinny was smashing against the troll.  However, suddenly, the Troll
disappeared.  "You got 'im Tibe?"  yelled the bouncer.  Tiberius
replied "hold a sec," as he whipped out his tricorder.  After turning
a few knobs, a picture of an armored troll with shredded armor
standing exhausted began to tune in like a poor television picture
becoming clearer.  The damage to the troll's armor was healing slowly
but surely, as the Troll looked on at the two people guarding the
door.  Suddenly, Tiberius reached out his arm holding the phaser and
quickly fired at the troll.  With a blood-curdling howl, the troll
vanished and all outside was relatively quiet.

	"Thanks, Tibe, with the kind of stuff they were packing I
would've been toast real quick."  "No problem," replied Tibe, "I'll
stand here.  You go reset yourself and when you get back bring me
another Moonbeam.  and could you swing a couple of light
stim-patches?"  "Sure.  The boss'll be glad you were here to help
cover."  With a grin, Tibe replied.  "I know."

	That's the problem with AI frames, thought Tiberius, as the troll
wandered off to the back room to reload all his damaged utilities.
Smart as you make 'em, they just don't have the creativity needed to
really fight without humans.  With that, he walked back in the bar to
find a table created in the corner with his name on it, a tall Moonbeam and a
packet with a couple of light stims resting near his seat.

	The Blue Bit was one of many 'net hangouts, an outgrowth of
shadowland that provided more chance of meeting actual people.  The
console cowboy community decided that shadow posts were far too
unreliable and less secure than actual interaction.  So, if you were
part of the shadow community you had to go to the virtual hangouts
several times a week and pay your dues.  Strange thing is, they used
the honor system and it worked pretty well.  If you didn't paydata up,
you didn't paydata down.  This worked well all around:  the weaker
wannabes got to meet the more experienced warriors and could hang
around them, and Tiberius along with his peers got to use these
youngsters and poseurs to do some menial datadrudgery.  Need a place
buzzed, and a little scout information?  Give one of these boys a
one-shot analyze and if they came back you got your data without too
much strain.  And if the jerk was any good he'd get your utility.
Luckily, the commandos who volunteered for these runs typically weren't
too good.  Also, it was kinda fun for the old guys to put the weenies
up against some particularly impossible IC and watch them brainfry.
Tiberius wasn't too much into that anymore, he thought it was bad
luck.

	While lounging at Bluey's, discussing some possible datadigs
with a few apprentices (typically, an veteran, when feeling old, would
take on an apprentice or two and show 'em the ropes if they had some
natural talent.  Of course this wasn't a free show, the master
typically got a large percentage of any takedata, but there's no other
alternative for wannabes with the inkling of talent.), a large red
siren appeared before his eyes, flashing and blaring alarm klaxons.
"Sorry fellas, I got some serious work to do."  With that, Tiberius
strode out of Bluey's, looked around, and jacked out.  Even after all
these years of virtual netsurfing, Tibe still got a little seasick,
and a few seconds of nausea passed over his face, then relief.  He sat
up, pulled the IV lead out of his arm, shut off the health maintenance
unit, and answered the telecom.  "Yeah, what the hell is it?  It'd
better be good."  A face appeared on the screen, a tatooed face, with
a scar disguised cleverly as a snake prominent on the cheek.  "I think
it might be worth your while." replied Snake, leader of a prominent
Barrens gang.  A call from Snake meant one of two things: great opps
for big nuyen, or a favor.  Since Snake helped keep his hovel secure
from other gang's "protection", and occasionally helped out on his own
dataruns, some of the favors Tiberius had to repay were quite
tiresome.  Tiberius wrote most of the software that Snake's gang uses
for their computing needs, and he handled most of their electronic
needs as well.  Also, Tiberius was always coming up with interesting
gadgets, and Snake was smart enough to know that any edge over the
competition was a good one.
	"What is it?" Tiberius asked.  Snake smiled.  "Looks like the
big big money. I just got off the phone with a few contacts in the
business community," Snake smiled again, wryly, "and it seems some
rather important members of personnel have decided to take up
employment at a competitor's laboratories.  Also, according to police
reports of the extraction, the scientists seemed to be struggling
against their 'kidnappers'.  The police are handling all information
in this case as data pertaining to a kidnapping, but my contact says
to not assume these men were kidnapped, that they may well have simply
defected."  "Well, where do I fit into this equation?"  Tiberius
replied, interested.  "Just getting to that.  The boss wants this job
handled quiet, doesn't want too much PR flack.  We can't just go in
and rock-and-roll as usual, we need a bit of stealth.  So, when I
heard that, my first thought was to call the breeze."  His friends
called Tiberius the "silent breeze" because of his favorite hacking
style.  Tiberius favored above all else stealth and silence in his
hacking runs.  He'd fool IC and mask himself to get where he was
going, because he thought it was more elegant and less bothersome.
Strangely, the inverse was true in the real world.  Tiberius preferred
big friends, big guns, and big noise.  Which is why on quiet runs,
Tiberius was typically not to fire unless the shit hit the fan.  Which
was just fine with him.  "How much is offered?"  "Well," Snake began,
"contingent on the stealth of the run, along with the success
percentage and our reputation of getting things done come hell or high
water, he's offered us each 150,000Y to start, and a maximum of
400,000Y on completion.  There may well be bonuses.  Also, if we find
stuff on the target premises, we can take as much as we please."  If this
target was a silicon tech company, this last sentence meant the most
to Tiberius.  His constant tinkering meant that any boost or help he
could find would come in handy someday, and original research was
worth more to him than any mere money.  "Well, I can't give you more
details unless you agree.  That's by direct order of the boss, as well
as for your own protection.  So, what's the word?"
	"I'm in."



Copyright 1992, by Mathew Hennessy.

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So, whaddaya think?

--
   /I\          Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke.
  /(*)\         hennessy@acsu.buffalo.edu
 /IIIII\        "Leave EVERYTHING to ME!" - Powdered Toast Man
/IIIIIII\       Happiness is a warm gun.


From: hennessy@acsu.buffalo.edu (DOG BASEBALL!!!)
Subject: Tiberius, cont (12/3/92)
Date: 3 Dec 92 21:40:18 GMT


	I don't know if I should separate this story into chapters, since it
is rather short so far, so I'll keep the parts in order by date first posted.
oh btw: thanks y'all for replies, some are mighty useful, and I'll try to
incorporate some more 'fleshing out' in future parts.  Also something to keep
in mind, when I try and do the VR parts, I'm trying to get a feeling across
that it feels real.  This has confused a couple of my friends, so if you see
any problems in it, please don't hesitate to lemme know.  and now...

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	"Good afternoon, gentlemen."  The thick oaken table felt firm
and indestructible under Tiberius' hand.  The plush, velvety chair
enveloped his body and made him feel like a child.  He peered down the
long conference table at Takashima, the man with the cash.  Primly
dressed in a subtle dark grey italian business suit which shined
slightly with opulent restraint, Takashima (he hadn't given them his
first name, which was standard operating procedure in this kind of
scenario) sat in a similar, yet grander, chair at the head of the
table.  The order of the day: what else?  Deadly business.  The
ceiling chandelier sparkled with the dancing flames of old-fashioned
candles, yet the room was still only dimly lit by such brightness.  The
others sat in thrones similar to Tiberius'.  "Great resolution,"
he thought, "I wonder how much this color detail must be worth".
	Seated around the table were the other members of the group.
Messiah, the enigmatic shaman, always in a state of flux and rather
difficult for Tiberius to understand.  Until recently they'd been
rather friendly, but lately he'd been getting the cold shoulder.
There was Dancer, a rather more personable mage, one who took
advantage of some tech, and who contracted Tibe's services on
occasion.  Dancer had cash, and wasn't afraid to use it.  In this
business you learned to make friends with those types fast.  Dancer
also had a compound with mages of all ability working as a group.  You
also learn to not make compounds full of mages mad.  At the other end
of the table from Takashima, was Snake.
	"I have a proposition for you.  I believe Mr.... Snake has
mentioned a few small details, please allow me to flesh out the
picture.  Obviously your, shall I say, band of problem solvers are
quite successful.  Your reputation preceeds you, and it is rather
impressive."  "Thanks, but that still doesn't tell us what you want.
You mentioned a kidnapping, do you want to tell us any more?"
Messiah had a rather grating way of getting to the point.  Not that
anyone would tell him that, though, at least not to his face.  Messiah
was clearly uncomfortable with the meeting, as he was with most
technology.  It ran clear beyond his understanding, and in fact to
him, virtual meetings were unnervingly like watching goldfish in a
jacuzzi.  Very blurry and indistinct.
	"Of course.  Please forgive my prior evasiveness, but as you
are aware, my meeting with you is strictly unofficial.  In fact, if
knowledge of this meeting were to find its way into the hands of our
corporate security, I might be in very hot water.  They're very edgy
as of late and any loss of confidence they perceive may set them off
in a rather bad way."
	"Understood," noted Dancer, as he scribbled in his notepad.
All of this was being recorded by Tibe, as was usual procedure, but
Dancer had a few old-fashioned things about him, including actual
graphite pencils and pulp-based paper.  Or their virtual counterparts.
	"As you are aware, several of our best minds seems to have
'defected' to a rival of ours.  You also know that the police have
been treating this case as a kidnapping, because of the condition of
the laboratories the night of the 'kidnapping'.  I will tell you
now, in all confidence, that the police saw the remains of a fight
that never happened.  When we discovered that our colleagues had not
reported to work, as well as not to their homes within the last 72
hours, we had a little staged event in the labs to get the police out
of the real investigation.  Though there were no documents apparently
taken with them, it is not out of the realm of possibility that copies
of our most sensitive research data may have been.  What we need done
is to make sure any copied data is erased from their computers, and
the researchers back, preferably with a pulse.  Their studies are
vital to this company, and we paid quite handsomely for them.
Essentially, we want our property back, and we're prepared to pay
hansomely for your services."
	"What do you mean 'we'?  Is there more we need to know?" asked
Snake.  "Like I said," responded Takashima, still cool as a fish,
"this job is unofficial, but that is not to say I am necessarily
alone.  However, your actions are accountable to me only, and that is
all you need to know.  Now, for the details.  On the table in front of
you, you shall find a list of possible targets for your own research,
information about the scientists in question, and vouchers for your
initial payment.  If you have to purchase expendables with your money,
and you wish to be reimbursed for your expenses, please keep a
relatively detailed list of your needs, and remember we will only
cover a limited amount.  Please keep in mind that we have a lot of
money invested in you, and if for some reason you can't fulfill your
end of the bargain, we have ways of getting our investment back."
With that, Takashima waved over the table and on the place in front of
each of the men there was a file folder marked "CONFIDENTIAL".  Snake
flipped through his folder for a moment, Tiberius took his and
crumpled it up into a thin string then inserted it into his ear, Dancer
simply put his into his pocket, and Mesiah ignored his altogether.
With that, Takashima pushed away from the table.  "Good day,
gentlemen, and good luck."  Takashima slowly began to shimmer, and
pieces of color began to swim around his form, gaining speed until
they were almost a blinding cocoon, and then they blinked and he was
gone.  Then the whole room began to break up and the vertical hold
seemed to go haywire for a moment, and then the simulated sense
(simsense) feed ended.
	The real virtual conference room was far less opulent.  Molded
plastic chairs with cheap foam padding held them, along with several
others dressed as mid-level executive types, optic cable and wiring
all over the place.  As Messiah was shaking off the effects of an hour
of blurred vision, and Dancer and Snake were still a bit disoriented,
Tiberius turned to them.  "All right, guys, what's next?"  Snake
looked at the credstick in the box placed on his lap while he was
"away", and turned to the others with a trademarked grin.
	"Let's go shopping."


Copyright 1992, by Mathew Hennessy.

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--
   /I\          Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke.
  /(*)\         hennessy@acsu.buffalo.edu
 /IIIII\        "Leave EVERYTHING to ME!" - Powdered Toast Man
/IIIIIII\       Happiness is a warm gun.