by Tom Clancy
‘You kids have it easy,’ Rebecca scoffed. ‘When I played Marian in Kong 200U the special effects went in after the scene was shot. All I had to work with was a big sheet of poster paper with an X taped on it to tell me where the monster’s head was.
Leif tried not to gawk. The old flatscreen film had spawned a famous image - a beautiful blond woman in a torn, filmy nightgown cringing away from the giant ape’s poking finger.
‘Yeah, that was me,’ Rebecca told him, a wry grin relaxing her features into a shadow of that long-ago image. ‘I was quite the fox in those days, even if I say so myself. The baddest girl in the soaps, twenty-five years ago.’
‘Before holos,’ Yu-Ying teased.
‘Before holos,’ Rebecca agreed, ‘and all those “what you see is what you get” special effects.’
Wallenstein had been conferring with his publicity people. Now he came back. ‘The press people will be joining us in a moment, so we’d better get things arranged.’
‘Sure,’ Rebecca Lome said. ‘Get ‘em away from us, before we scar them for life!’
A publicity person beckoned to the Net Force Explorers, and Leif and the boys followed. Technicians were suddenly swarming over the stage, moving groups of people - the other teams, Leif realized - to premarked spots. A quartet of solemn-looking young men as dark as David, in the embroidered neckcloth shirts fashionable in the African republics, were led into place - and the image of a Setangi warrior popped into existence beside them.
Two pairs of boys and girls, blond and apple-cheeked, posed beside the image of a Laragant officer cadet. They were all chattering excitedly in a language that sounded familiar, though he was too far away to make out many of the words. Norwegian? No, Danish, Leif finally decided. Good. His Danish was getting rusty. It would be nice to have a chance to use it.
A young Federation Fleet cadet in the forest-green tunic of an Engineering trainee appeared off to the left of the stage.
‘I guess that’s where we should be headed,’ Matt said.
David, however, had stopped dead in his tracks. ‘Man!’ The exclamation was almost like a curse. ‘I see it, but I don’t believe it.’
‘What?’ Leif asked.
‘You weren’t around when we were talking about it, but I bet you know the connection between the alien races on Ultimate Frontier and the international broadcast market.’
Leif nodded. ‘You mean the way they boost ratings by having various nationalities and so on identify with the Ultimate Frontier races.’ He frowned. ‘What about it?’
David lowered his voice. ‘Pinnacle Productions must have slanted the results of the racing trials. Look aroimd! Black Africans race as the Setangis. A European team becomes the Laragants. Who represents the Galactic Federation? Who else but us all-American boys. It’s like typecasting!’
‘No way!’ Andy objected. ‘We kicked major butt in our races.’
‘At least it looked that way,’ Matt said slowly.
‘And surprise, surprise! The right team for the American market won.’ David’s voice mixed suspicion and disgust. ‘They’re just using us for the publicity - to see if they can rake ofif a couple more ratings points.’
‘Come on, guys,’ Leif said. ‘We pretty much knew going in that the whole idea of the contest was to beat the drums for Ultimate Frontier. That’s why all the reporters are outside, waiting to get in.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Matt objected. ‘But when we went in, we thought this was going to be a fair race.’
‘We don’t know that it’s not,’ Leif said. ‘Maybe the producers skewed the results a little to get the competitors they wanted. But whatever they do now, they do in the full glare of publicity.’
‘So?’ David asked.
‘So, we play the game - and keep our eyes open,’ Leif said. ‘I don’t think Pinnacle would stick us with a team of ringers. Most of these kids just look excited to be here.’
‘No!’ a harsh voice cut across the excited babbling in the background.
Leif looked around. A hulking guy with slicked-back hair and a thick mustache loomed over an unhappy-looking technician.
‘We will not stand where you want to put us,’ Mr Mustache went on in a loud voice. He stabbed an angry finger at the Federation Fleet cadet and at the surprised-looking Danish kids. ‘It is close to the warmongering Americans, and right beside the oppressors of the so-called European Union.’
Wallenstein came over at the sound of raised voices. ‘Look here, Mr - ah—’
‘Cetnik,’ the mustached man declared. Leif nodded. Yes. There was a definite Mittel-European accent lurking under the guy’s English.
‘Mr Cetnik. When you agreed to participate—’
‘We did not agree to be insulted!’ Cetnik cut him off. ‘I am responsible for these young people, to their parents -and to my government.’
Leif followed the dramatically outflung arm. Four kids stood off to the side. They wore gray-green outfits that looked more like military uniforms than any school outfits Leif had ever seen. Three of them were guys with dark hair and sullen expressions. The last was a striking-looking blond girl with a face and figure that would turn eyes even in Hollywood. Beside them rose the holo-image of a silver-skinned humanoid alien whose face had no features - a Thurien.
Cetnik continued. ‘The Carpathian Alliance expects us to represent them in the world - and we must demand the respect our nation deserves!’
Chapter Five
Wallenstein glanced indecisively toward the doors where the reporters would be entering in a moment. The producer dithered for a moment, sighed, and began talking to the technicians.
Then they began rearranging the teams.
Leif shook his head in disbelief. Why would a man in charge of one of the most lucrative holo-franchises in the world cave before a loudmouthed rep from a lunatic-fringe foreign government?
Frowning, he turned his head for a nice, long look at the mustached Mr Cemik. Leif’s dad had dealt with a lot of diplomats, and so had Leif. As representatives of their countries, diplomats could generally be described as ‘smooth’. Cetnik, on the other hand, had shown he had lots of rough edges. He didn’t look or sound very diplomatic.
The impression I get is that he’s more like a security guy, Leif thought. And in the Carpathian Alliance, that probably means secret police.
Technicians worked furiously to refocus hologram images to please Cetoik and his team. Not too close to the Europeans, or the Americans, or the African team, given the Carpathian Alliance’s weird racial theories.
At last they had an acceptable lineup, and the press was i invited in. Leif just about turned off his brain while all the publicity hoopla went on. He was tired after the long flight. Mainly, he concentrated on not yawning in public.
One little ceremony brought him out of his stupor. Each team’s captain was requested to step over to Milos Wallenstein. There they would hand over a software version of the ship they had designed. The racing craft would all be downloaded to Pinnacle Productions’ computer system where the race would be run, checked to make sure that they matched the vehicles used in the -preliminary rounds, and checked again to be sure they matched the specs that Pinnacle Productions had issued for the race.
If it’s on the up and up, it means a level playing field for everyone racings Leif thought. If they’re downloading everything so that they can control the outcome, well, that’s the way it goes. If the studio’s not going to keep the race fairy there’s not much we can do about it unless things get pretty blatant, Besides, it will give the studio better control of the actual special effects for the episode. We’ll look cooler in our moment of glory.
He stiffened slightly as a new thought hit him. For some of the competitors, their creations would be running on a system considerably better than anything in their home countries.
The Carpathian Alliance, for instance, had been under strict technology embargoes ever since the last war.
Maybe that’s why they’re pushing so
hard to win this race, Leif thought. Besides offering a moment of glory on Ultimate Frontiery Pinnacle Productions had promised all kinds of techno-toys for the winners, stuff that wouldn’t even be available in the States for at least another year. And from the description of the computer setup in the prize package, the stuff really rocked.
Leif glanced thoughtfully in Cetnik’s direction again. More than enough reason to send a secret policeman … or even an out-and-out spy.
As if he had read Leif’s mind, the Carpathian representative stepped out to make another speech. ‘Our friends of the free media are probably aware that the aggressors of the United States still pursue their war against the people of the Carpathian Alliance. Because of abusive trade restrictions, our team will be unable to bring the promised prizes back to the homeland in the event of our victory.’
He makes it sound like a foregone conclusion, Leif thought.
‘Our response is simple - and global. Should the Alliance win, the technology will be shared with deserving groups around the world.’
The key word was shared, Leif suddenly realized. Cetnik and his junior goons might not be able to walk away with any hardware, but any hacker worth his salt could rip it apart and go back to the homeland with equipment and programming savvy two generations beyond anything currently in use there.
And they’d still get the propaganda value of giving the prizes away.
In spite of his dislike, Leif had to give them credit. These guys were dangerous - maybe even more dangerous than they looked.
At last, the publicity rituals were over, and the boys were finally free to head to their hotel. They were led out a different doorway, through the maze of Pinnacle Productions offices, and out through the rear exit of the building, where they found their limo waiting.
‘I could get used to this,’ David said as they pulled away through the Los Angeles traffic.
Matt nodded. ‘Beats an autobus.’ Much of Washington’s mass transit was handled by driverless, computer-controlled buses.
‘I don’t know,’ Andy said. ‘I think this is about the same size as a Washington bus.’
‘You’ll find lots of autobuses here,’ the young publicist who was acting as their guide said. ‘L.A. has worked hard to improve its mass-transit options - although the studio has arranged for rental cars for each team. You’ll get the paperwork to fill out when we get to your hotel.’
‘Where are we staying?’ Leif asked the young woman.
‘Casa Beverly Hills,’ she answered, ‘right on Rodeo Drive.’
‘Yow!’ Andy exclaimed.
Leif kept his mouth shut. He knew that Beverly Hills and Rodeo Drive had suffered a downturn since the earthquake of 2019. The trickle of movers and shakers who’d quietly been finding mansions in Connecticut and condos in New York City had become a flood. The rich and famous had decided it was more pleasant to live in places that didn’t attempt to shake, slide, floods or burn their houses down, and the expensive stores that served them had followed.
The increasing importance of the Net had also contributed to the decline. People had lived in Beverly Hills to be close to ‘the industry’ - whether that meant music, TV, or film. But the growing versatility of the Net had literally allowed people to ‘dial in’ performances. A big star could be anywhere on Earth - or up in one of the orbital habitats - all through rehearsals, and through the miracle of veeyar and holographic projection, still be ‘on the set’.
There were even rumors that some very sought-after actor types hadn’t been physically present when their last performances had been lensed. They’d only ‘been there’ in holoform, either because they’d gotten fat or become paranoid recluses … or both.
Leif hoped his friends wouldn’t expect to see big stars during their stay in Beverly Hills. What they’d see were tourists.
Still, he thought, the Casa Beverly Hills makes a nice address for an out-of-towner.
Pinnacle Productions hadn’t splurged on the entertainment budget for their guests, but they’d been generous enough. The boys stepped from the elevator to an elaborate set of real-wood double doors, which opened to reveal a comfortable suite. The living room had a large window giving a view of what used to be some of the most expensive real estate in the U.S. of A. It was flanked on either side by bedrooms. They boys would double up, but as David said as he put his suitcase down, ‘Just the living room’s bigger than my whole house at home.’
The publicist left after taking care of the bellman, and the boys began exploring the suite. A tiny but working kitchen filled one corner of the living room - probably for business entertaining, Leif thought. But someone from Pinnacle Productions had been on the job. The small refrigerator was filled with a selection of soft drinks and juices, courtesy of the studio, and the cabinets had a wide assortment of snack foods.
‘Man, I could use something to drink,’ Andy said. ‘I don’t know if it was the plane or the weather out here, but my throat feels like somebody hung it out to dry in the sun.’
They all poured themselves glasses of soda, and flopped down on the overstuffed couch and chairs facing the living room window.
‘Well, this has certainly been a day,’ David said. ‘I feel as if I wandered into a weird veeyar - or my own personal holofilm.’
Matt laughed. ‘I know what you mean. Everything seems like make-believe - except for the weirdest flashes of real life.’ He looked down at his hand. ‘I can’t believe I shook hands with Lance Snowdon.’
‘I can’t believe what a shrimp he turned out to be,’ Andy cut in.
Matt nodded. ‘Or that you could see right through his hair and down to his scalp.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Leif said. ‘Fans of the series have always been arguing over which were better - the captains with hair, or the captains without.’
Andy hooted with laughter. ‘Not to mention the captains with the cheap toupees.’
‘You’ve given me a reason to hope that Commander Dominic gets promoted/ David chuckled. ‘We’ll see how things go for a captain who’s losing his hair.’
‘I’ve seen more behind-the-scenes stuff today that I’d find in a month on the Net.’ Matt suddenly stifled a yawn. ‘And all I want to do is sleep.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Andy said. He hopped to his feet. ‘Come on, bunkie. Let’s find out if the beds in this dump are as comfortable as that couch.’
The sitting room got quieter as the two boys went off to claim one of the bedchambers. David sat back on the couch, finishing off his glass of soda. Then he opened the bag that still hung from his shoulder and took out his laptop computer.
Technically speaking, the portable unit was obsolete -its business niche had been taken over by palm-sized digital assistants that responded to spoken orders instead of a keyboard or a screen interface.
Leif’s father had invested in a company that thought it could bring the laptop market back. The laptops were as fast and as powerful as the console computers that everybody used on the Net, after all. They just lacked the interfaces and systems contained in compulink chairs that made long-term veeyar interactions possible. It had been one of Dad’s few bad calls. Almost nobody had bought them. Leif had helped his father unload some of the inventory by arranging a very favorable price for any Net Force Explorers who wanted to purchase them.
David had gone for the deal. After all, the unit he was working on now had the same capability as the compulink system in his apartment - or better.
‘No regrets about buying the old clunker?’ Leif asked his friend.
‘It may seem like a clunker to you,’ David said, peering down at the spaceship design projected by the laptop’s display. ‘But it’s everything I hoped for - and more.’
He glanced at Leif. ‘You know, this is something you don’t see anymore. It’s the first pure computer system I ever owned. My family’s machine is tied in with all the apartment’s electronics. The stuff I learned on in school is hardwired into the Net. Most handheld equipment is multipurpos
e, like a wallet phone that acts like a computer only after you hook into the Net and draw upon Net resources.’
David patted the little box on his lap. ‘But this sucker is really my computer unless and until I physically connect it to the rest of the world.’
‘The hotel is completely hardwired - its system is probably bigger and faster,’ Leif pointed out. ‘There’s a port over there where you could download all your files. At least you’d get a better display and not have to worry about going blind!’
‘No, I’d just have to worry about getting hacked,’ David replied.
Leif laughed. ‘Some wild-eyed Frontie fan who wants to know everything there is to know about the competing ships? Or maybe a bookmaker who wants the ships’ specs so he can figure the odds he’ll offer the bettors?’
‘Try some of the other contestants - like that weird crew from the Carpathian Alliance,’ David replied.
Reluctantly, Leif nodded. ‘You might have a point there. If not the crew, that Mr Cetnik might make a stab at it -although from the looks of him, the most complicated piece of machinery he ever operated was a submachine gun.’
‘Looks can be deceiving,’ David said. ‘Especially in the C.A.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Those people are crazy:, Anderson. Did you see those kids there today? They’re wearing the uniform of the national schools. Change the buttons and add a few insignia, and it’s identical with the uniform for the Alliance army.’
Leif shrugged. ‘Guess it saves them money.’
David shook his head. ‘It’s the way they think. The Carpathian Alliance literally considers itself a nation at arms. Everybody in the country can be called upon to repel invaders. They have courses about it in the schools. The kids are dressed like soldiers because that’s how the government intends to use them, fighting up close and personal.’
He pursed his lips as if he’d tasted something bad. ‘They teach those kids that the United States is the greatest cause of evil in the world today. And then, of course, there’s something I find personally offensive - their screwball racial theories. You know how philologists have been studying the ancient Indo-European language?’