by Larry Niven
The Clerics scuttled about, healing what wounds they could. There were enough wounded to allow them all to test their powers in this unknown domain. Chaim Cohen, Top Nun, Black Elk, and Tamasan chanted in four languages. Gamers winced at the hideous chorus.
Black Elk, blocky in leather chaps, beads, and medicine feathers, reported to Clavell. "We've lost Lieutenant Philips." His impressive facial scar was peeling a little at the lower edge.
Waters said, "I saw her go down. She tried to macho it."
"It looks like every team's down one or two," Black Elk said.
"Now we're screwed," Waters said. "Without a woman on our team, there are things we just won't learn. Major, think hard about forming an alliance somewhere."
Clavell's face set. He didn't like losing Philips so fast.
Alphonse was already scanning his own team. He had lost an Engineer and a Cleric: Peggy the Hook and Friar Duck.
Al did some quick addition. In the first engagement there had been six fatalities: one each for Apple and Army, two each for Tex-Mits and General Dynamics. Acacia, damn her soul, hadn't lost anyone.
Al felt queasy. "Well, we got stretched a mite. Hardball, is it?"
Smoke tendrils still wafted through the graveyard, muffling the anguished sobs of the injured and mourning.
Nakagawa's Law #3: There are no expendables. A Loremaster takes the best he can get, in every slot, and loses them only when he must. Law #3 fit the California Voodoo Game better than most. Each dead Ganner was a serious loss.
Alphonse shook himself out of his trance. "Scout!"
He got Crystal, and Acacia's Scout, Corrinda. "Scan, please."
They joined hands and pointed toward a side corridor. Warriors Holly Frost and Appelion joined them.
En masse they moved down the corridor, Alphonse in the front. He tested the flooring with the tip of a toe. "Crystal, can you do a structural check?"
Crystal Cofax checked her power ratings and gritted her teeth. "I can give you an eighty-percent yes. Best I can do, chief."
"Let's get it done."
"All right." He studied the older man. "No offence, Trevor."
Trevor's smile was tight and plastic. "None taken."
The weeping was closer now, and Alphonse flattened himself against a wall.
A woman's voice: "Please. Please help us…"
She was no more than twenty, and dressed in rags. She was dark-skinned, with a face like a Michelangelo cherub in negative, but her nose was narrow and her lips were thin. What was she? A darkly tanned white person?
At her feet lay a young boy.
"O, gevalt," Top Nun whispered.
He'd been eviscerated.
But was still alive.
The girl looked up at them earnestly, sniffling, wiping tears away from her cheeks. "Oh," she said. She batted huge, incongruously blue eyes at them, and then continued rapid-fire. "My name is Coral, and this is my brother Tod, and those zombies got him all icky and everything and he's like probably going to die if we don't do something but I can't figure out what to do 'cause like there's guts everywhere and did you like maybe bring a Band-Aid or something?"
A beat of five passed in shocked silence. Then somebody passed a Band-Aid to the front. A big one. Alphonse watched, aghast, as she put the adhesive strip onto a rubbery wet red length of intestine. She looked up at them brightly, an edge of hysteria in her voice. "There," she said. "That should be all better now "
Then fell over sideways in a faint.
11
Mallbeasts
Thursday, July 21, 2059 9.50 A.M.
The native girl had fainted twice more, but managed to last long enough to lead them through a labyrinthine network of corridors, catwalks, and stairwells, going up, down, and sideways.
Al thought that they might be on the second floor. Crystal would be mapping, and he could catch up later. Meantime, keep the eyes open.
Tod was alive but hardly lucid. He babbled to himself while his frantic sister babbled to them. "Thaddeus sent us looking for coffee. He's sort of our leader. Some of the boutiques still have a little of it, if you know where to look."
"Why coffee?" General Poule asked.
"Ceremonies. We don't-" Coral paused. "Well, they don't always let us in the other ceremonies."
"Which ones?"
Coral combed her fingers through her tangled hair and cast sad blue eyes at her brother. "Poor Tod. He found two shakers of that low-sodium salt-substitute stuff, you know, for diets? I told him it wouldn't work against zombies…"
And she was off again.
After a few more attempts to communicate, Nigel had given up. Whatever benefits voodoo conferred, intellectual agility was not among them. She led, and twenty-four remaining Gamers followed, but with no great confidence.
Every team had lost someone, except the UC Manhunters. Al had graciously offered his services to Tammi and Twan as official Beheader, just a precaution, wouldn't want old friends to get up and go sniffing for kidneys… Tammi had responded with a string of invective that should have peeled off her lipstick. Then she'd performed the task herself. God, he loved Gaming.
The rabbit warren of tunnels opened out into what had been a main Mall area.
Alphonse was shocked.
Despite marquees and displays gone cryptic with burnt-out light panels, it was as well lit as an outdoor pavilion. There were few machine-tooled items for sale in the stores, but the shelves were stocked with arts and crafts and handmade items of every description. Fresh meat? Vegetables? Handmade clothes? Scuba gear? These people had impressive resources.
And power! Neon and incandescent bulbs burned with no thought to economy.
Coral's clan strolled the Mall like Angelinos out to enjoy a summer day. Her people were every color of the human spectrum, from coal black to pale white. They dressed in a wide range of fabrics and colors. Alphonse looked more closely at Coral's clothes: they weren't rags, really, just eclectic and stained. Seen in this improved lighting, they might have made an attractive ensemble, a bizarre fashion statement scavenged from a dozen different scrap heaps and consolidated by a blind seamstress with eight thumbs.
Tod had been sheet-wrapped and strapped onto a makeshift stretcher. His ranting had ceased, and Alphonse couldn't guess whether he was dying, or something worse.
And Coral kept up her line of mad chatter. It was driving him to distraction.
All two dozen Adventurers had collected in the center of a Mall walkway before anyone noticed. Then a tall barrel of a man in a Hawaiian flower T-shirt and a neatly trimmed beard saw them, and yelled in pleasure. "Visitors!"
He dropped his hoe (dropped a potential weapon!) and ran over to them, shaking hands like an incumbent running for reelection. "Why, as I live and breathe. You're outsiders, aren't you?"
"We have one of your people here," Nigel said. "He's badly hurt-"
"Why, as I live and breathe. You're right!"
A crowd of people had gathered around them. Concerned, polite, and speculative, but still a crowd. Al felt twitchy.
"My name is Thaddeus Dark," the big man said. "Coral! Dear child! I was worried about you." She tried to twist away from the immense arm that Dark draped around her, but he just chuckled at her efforts. He pushed Coral off to the side and whispered to her genially while she squirmed.
Finally she said, "No!"
Coral and what was left of her brother were guided off together while Dark returned to the Adventurers. "Now then. Unfortunate, of course, but we warn the children not to go snooping about on the upper levels. Dangerous, you know."
Acacia's lips curled faintly. "Evidently."
He draped that arm around Acacia now, imprisoning her right arm, her sword arm. Alphonse saw her left hand flex; a small knife dropped into it. Dark didn't notice. "Let's do lunch! Tell us all about your voyage. We so seldom see new faces…"
They were welcomed by an amazing swarm, at least several hundred people. Every palm Al pressed, every grazing shoulder, was flesh an
d blood. Damn! Wasn't anybody a hologram anymore?
Scouts scanned for traps and Clerics for spells. They found nothing.
Al managed to get up next to Dark, matching his long stride. "You people are pretty comfortable here."
"Yes." Dark smiled. "The gods have been kind."
Which gods?
They passed dozens of children, and hundreds of adults. Maybe two or three hundred just within easy range of sight. More traversed bridges in the Mall, talking and shopping, and others worked at craft boutiques.
Without being too obvious, Al stepped to the edge of a railing and peered down into MIMIC's central well.
They may well have been on the second level, but there were at least three more levels beneath them. Something pulsed greenly down there. Alphonse grabbed Twan Tsing.
She languidly set her fingernails against his knuckles. "Remove," she said sweetly.
He lifted his hand. "Twan. Down three levels. Something glowing. What do you think?"
"Take your distance," she said, but looked.
She adjusted her visor, whispered some words, and then turned back. She bowed. "Most grateful, honorable barbarian." And she hurried off to tell Tammi what she'd seen.
He'd lost his own Engineer. He would have to perform a ceremony later, raise Peggy the Hook from the dead and try to get information that way…
Damn, damn, damn.
They were taken to a restaurant named Brio, on the edge of the pavilion. It was the kind of restaurant that tried to evoke Parisian street scenes, with limited success. Little tables were crested by multicolored metal umbrellas, surrounded by metal frame chairs with wicker plastic seats.
They were seated, and Dark lauded them.
"Once, we filled this building," he said, "but we have been driven down by the walking dead above!" His people gathered around in a ring, sealing the restaurant off from the rest of the Mall. Alphonse took a count. Roughly fifty, among twenty-four remaining Gamers. He felt nauseated with alarm.
"…are powerful. They are the minions of the voodoun of the upper levels."
Captain Cipher woke up. ''You practice voodoo yourselves?"
"Oh, no." Dark smiled. "We are good Christian folk."
And a minute ago you said, "The gods have been kind-"
Dark's smile deepened. He said casually, "We hear you have powerful magic. That you were able to see them despite their cloak of night. Is this true?"
Nigel answered without a pause. "We were lucky."
"Ahh… I think that you are modest as well as powerful. A true mark of greatness!"
He raised his arms, and Alphonse noticed that they were thick with old, heavy muscle. Dark ate well. Those teeth…
"My people! We have powerful visitors! Together we may be able to wrest our rightful heritage away from the blood-eaters of the upper levels!"
Waiters appeared. Natives emerged from the shops, dressed in wild variety, chattering and peering curiously. They smiled. Alphonse waved cheerily. Just folks, you betcha!
"Little lady, can you keep your right hand on your sword and pass that catfish with your left?"
"Let's see," Acacia said brightly.
Muzak bleated a tired melody as toothy, cheerful, perfectly tanned waiters with weight-lifter physiques brought trays of catfish, fresh hot bread, and endless streams of orange juice. The plates were decent china, badly chipped, from several sets.
"Where does the bread come from?" Alphonse asked Dark. "And the orange juice?"
"We trade with those on the upper levels," the big man answered. "They have things that we lack. We have things that they need. The balance is all that has kept us alive!"
Alphonse had lost his Cleric. Gen-Dyn's Tamasan was seated at his table, but out of earshot; and he was Bishop's man. Mati "Top Nun" Cohen was closer.
Al bent sideways and said, "Truce. If there's an attack, you can tuck in next to me."
"That comfort failed Friar Duck," Top Nun said conversationally.
"Cut him from asshole to appetite, but it wasn't my fault."
"True, he was a klutz. Let's hear the offer, bube."
"Bless this food, little lady. Add my power to yours. If you can detect anything-poison, whatever-let me know."
She thought for a moment, and then said, "Tell you what-you truce with me for the rest of the day?"
"Sure."
"Mazal top so you've got a partner." Top Nun spread her hands. "Our Father who art in heaven, bless this nosh, from knish to schnapps. Reveal any and all meshuge traps. Amen."
She shut her eyes hard and then opened them again. "Clean as a whistle."
He looked over at the other tables. All surviving Gamers had performed similar ceremonies, if Cleric or Wizard were available. Bishop's rounded little Shinto monk didn't look happy, but he was eating everything in sight.
Not the slightest hint of trouble.
Al's neck itched.
Top Nun, her little brown face a pleasant oval in her hood, nibbled daintily at her catfish. Her enormous brown eyes widened even further, pronouncing it good. "Eat, eat. You're a skeleton," she complained.
Thaddeus Dark stood and raised his glass. "Let us toast our new friends "
Alphonse wasn't listening; he was scanning the food. Clean. It was common to provide meals during a Game, and the food tested clean… but it was Game Time, and anything could happen, and Thaddeus Dark was too bloody massive…
Hunger won out over caution, and he bit into a catfish fillet.
Delicious.
And one at a time, all of the Gamers were dropping their defences, concentrating on the meal at hand. A few Magic Users still surreptitiously scanned, but there just wasn't anything wrong with the food.
In fact, the catfish was crispy and hot, the croissants fluffy. The orange juice must have been fresh-squeezed.
Captain Cipher approached Top Nun and whispered something in her ear. They huddled.
The back of Al's neck, never completely calm, began itching furiously. He didn't much like Cipher. The man was how do you say? Fragrant? Alphonse wished for a breeze, a breeze to put him upwind of the good Captain.
Cipher and Top Nun linked hands and began to chant.
Cipher blinked hard, said, "Whoa," and then linked up again. He spoke in hushed tones, but Alphonse could still hear them. "Whoa. I'm getting the-"
"Brother Cipher, you're such a mensch," Top Nun said. She cast around the table and finally settled on Alphonse. "Brother Alphonse, if you want in on this, give me thy hand.''
Al flipped down his visor. Everybody around the tables looked the same as before. Then he linked hands Aw, shit.
An aura flickered red/black/red/black around half of the Adventurers. His own hands bore the same mark.
"We're being poisoned."
Alphonse's fingers gripped the table. "This really chaps my ass. How could it happen? "
Cipher's protruding eyes rolled in something near panic. "It isn't just magic and it isn't just chemicals. Magical poison… not a strange concept, not at all. Witches and shamans always used poisons and magic both-"
"Stop wringing your click and get on with it. "
"Game designers never use magical poison. It makes for too short a Game. We can't fight this," Cipher gulped. "It's too strong. It's not fair…"
So maybe it was something else, Alphonse thought, dropping out of character for an instant. Maybe it was a spell to make Gamers crazy, paranoid. to make them attack new friends. He stood and raised his weapon.
The halberd's Virtual-display blade wobbled in his hand, almost out of control. His arm was bordered in red. If he tried to move, the red ran to black. Poisoned. Really.
His hosts began to shapeshift, their flesh melting away, humanity dissolving even as he watched. It's going to be a short Game.
A few of the Adventurers hadn't noticed, and were still caught up in eating, didn't have enough juice to see the transformation going on right in front of them. Then it was damn near too late.
The Mallbeasts w
ere ragged, rough-skinned things. Not zombies; something halfway between human and demon.
Music burred in his ears. Pulsating. Hypnotically seductive. As if it were impossibly loud music playing terribly far away.
His vision began to cloud.
God! No! It couldn't be over so soon! Not like this! To die without reaching any goals, without having any The Bishop stood, sweating, one hand on his stomach. His back was to the other Magic Users, who cried out as the Mallbeasts approached. Alphonse couldn't hear the spell, but their bodies suddenly exploded with light.
For a moment but only a moment the beasts were driven back. Then they began to advance again.
Nigel Bishop's dark, normally confident face was crinkled with worry, with a familiar what the Muck? expression normally reserved for lesser mortals. It was almost worth dying to see it.
And then the air crackled.
There was a wet smell. An explosion of light flooded through the Mall. Alphonse screamed, shielding his eyes, the dark shapes of the Mallbeasts visible even through closed lids At the center of the light stood a roughly human shape. A man dressed in white deck shoes, crisp white sun pants, a short-sleeved shirt-matching, of course. He sported a gloriously golden tan, short sun-bleached hair, and the chest and shoulders of a lifeguard.
The thing that had been Thaddeus Dark hissed: "Nommo! Your kind have no business here! You dare violate the truce?" Other beasts hissed behind him, a venomous, swelling wave of sound.
The newcomer looked at them almost sleepily. "Chill out, dudes and dudettes. These folks are righteous. Truth is, they rescued two of yours, and what you're doin' is like way bogus."
Thaddeus Dark hissed. "Something is wrong here. You have no Sight into this level, unless a conduit…" The creature scanned the room. To Alphonse, it seemed that he grew larger as he did. His body swelled with rage. "Coral! Traitorous dweeb! You have betrayed the Mall!"
Beat. Nothing. Then Coral stepped out of the shadow. She couldn't face him; she talked to the floor. "Like, Tod is dead, man, except not really, he's in that yucky undead place, and it's all your fault-"
The run-on sentence was about to run further, but Thaddeus raised his hand. His teeth gleamed through a ruin of rotting lips. "I will see you dead. I will hang your skin on my wall, and your soul will writhe in torment for a thousand years." His voice rose to a thundering crescendo, then he stopped, suddenly thoughtful. "That's just a rough. I'll get back to you."