This Virtual Night

by C. S. Friedman

“In some places, that hatred took on a dark spiritual aspect. Humanity does love its religions. Earth became the Great Betrayer, existential source of all pain and suffering, the embodiment of evil. In order for your people to prosper, you had to hold its malevolence at bay. Some colonies even viewed Earth as a demon proper, that must be placated or exorcised if humans were to prosper. Tully and I found one colony where—” She stopped for a moment. Took a deep breath. “They threw babies into an abyss,” she said softly. “The spirit of Earth demanded death, they told us, and if they offered it a sacrifice of their own free will, others would be spared.”

  “Shit,” Micah muttered. “That’s pretty messed up.”

  “Now you understand why we don’t usually talk to outsiders about such things. But every outrider has seen them.” She shut her eyes. “By the time we show up, strangers from the sky, the language of such a colony has evolved into new forms, and their communications technology—if they have any—is no longer compatible with ours. Sometimes there’s no way to communicate until we are actually face to face. And then . . .” She shrugged suggestively.

  “You look like Terrans.”

  She nodded. “Sometimes we get a chance to communicate who we are before they attack us. Sometimes . . . sometimes we don’t. All that hatred, all that fear—centuries of raw despair—it all gets focused on us.” She glanced back at the armory. “It’s rare we need weapons. But when we do, we’d damn well better have them on hand.”

  He exhaled softly. “Wow. I just . . . I had no idea.”

  “Yeah. By the time the second wave teams show up, that’s all been sorted out.”

  “So this ship we’re on . . . is that armed, too? Seems like it would have to be.”

  She smiled slightly, said nothing.

  “Do you have to make first contact like that? Couldn’t you bring back data and leave it to someone else?”

  “It’s our call. If we don’t feel the situation is safe enough, yeah, we can let Guera send in its experts. But Micah . . . Imagine you’ve spent six months cooped up in a spaceship, hungering to explore the mysteries of a lost world. Do you think you could just take notes on it, shoot a few vids, and then go home? Think about the kind of people who sign on for my job. Think about why we do it. I’ve never known any outrider to turn down an opportunity for first contact.”

  He chuckled softly. “You need someone on your team who can’t be mistaken for Terran.”

  “Yeah. Well. Except it’s the Guild that’s in charge of all this, and they’re not about to trust any non-Guerans with their precious Manifest Destiny.” She could hear the edge of lifelong frustration coming into her voice, and it wasn’t something she wanted to share with him, so she changed the subject. “The ship’s on autopilot now. I need to get some sleep. I’m sorry I can’t let you connect to the ship’s innernet, but if you picked up some malware on Shenshido—”

  “I understand,” he said quietly. “No need to explain.”

  “Once Ivar is up we’ll need to stagger shifts so that one of us is always awake. I don’t trust him worth a damn.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You trust me?”

  Do I? She wondered. Should I? “Navigation is locked. You can’t access the ship’s innernet without my security codes. And the ship will alert me if you try to break into the armory while I’m asleep, or do anything else unseemly. I’m not really worried about you trying to cut my throat while I sleep. So I think we’re good for now.” She indicated the console. “You can bring up anything you need to on the screen. We’ve got one hell of a library—books and vids—and I think Tully stocked some games. Not really my thing.”

  “You prefer your adventures to be real.” He smiled dryly. “Got it.”

  She eased herself up from her chair. God, she was stiff. Her wellseeker would have to address that while she slept. “Make yourself at home. Get some more sleep if you need to. When we’re both well rested we can see how our friend is doing.” She glanced back at the medpod. “And if he’s going to prove useful enough to be worth all this effort.”

  THE HARVESTER IS COMING!

  Come celebrate with us in style, as Harmony Node welcomes the return of its harvester in a grand station-wide festival. Sample the food of a hundred different worlds, attend concerts by famous bands and orchestras, and gasp at the daring of multi-G acrobats in Solial’s Galactic Circus—all while our great winged ships spread out across the heavens, bearing gifts from distant worlds. This once-in-a-century event is not to be missed, but tickets and accommodations are selling out quickly, so make your reservations now!

  The harvester’s arrival will be livecast on VBC, with virtual feed courtesy of Blue Galaxy Studios. Visit their site to subscribe.

  DEEP SPACE

  APPROACHING HARMONY NODE

  THE AINNIQ is near. Not yet so close that the harvester can see it, but her sensors are picking up subtle fluctuations in the fabric of space that hint at its proximity. Too subtle for human senses to detect—or even most mechanical constructs—but she was designed to locate such things and hone in on them.

  She is nearing home.

  She shifts her sensors to the frequencies that humans use to communicate and picks up faint whispers of navigational code. She is searching for one in particular, a signal meant for her and her children, to help guide them home.

  There. There it is.

  Soon she will spread her wings wide and command her children to separate from her, and they will do so, spreading their wings into the galactic night. A vast flock of silver birds, each with a portion of her precious harvest clutched to its chest. It is far easier to deliver mass that way, in small portions that are easily decelerated, than to try to slow the harvester itself. She will circle the ainniq while her children make their deliveries, then gather them to her again when the job is done. By then she will have received orders for her next assignment. The human hunger for raw mass never ends, and so her task is eternal.

  She sends her response to the homing signal: simple code, simple message:

  I am here. Make ready.

  At first glance, SCAVENGER’S DILEMMA appears to be a fairly standard full-immersion game. The setting is meticulously realized, but familiar: a mysterious derelict ship has been discovered in the far reaches of space, and various bands of adventurers race to strip it of valuables. Players can join a loosely organized band of salvagers, hot on the trail of an artifact rumored to be in the wreckage (the identity of the artifact changes with each new chronicle), or a team of scavs who want to dismantle the ship to sell as raw mass on the black market. That the two groups will come into conflict is inevitable, and the no-G setting makes for an interesting battlefield.

  What elevates SCAVENGER’S DILEMMA above other games of its type is the nature of the two core alliances. The salvagers are independents, pooling their efforts to locate a single artifact so they can sell it and divvy up the profits. But the closer they get to their goal, the more tempting it will be for one to break away and claim the prize for himself. And while the scavs aren’t limited to a single prize—there’s enough raw mass to go around—they are ruthless rivals and might betray a companion just to rise in the scav pecking order. Whichever group you decide to join, you can never be sure that an ally will not betray you . . . or that it might not be in your best interest to betray an ally first.

  Like the Prisoner’s Dilemma for which it was named, SCAVENGER’S DILEMMA forces players to weigh the consequences of cooperation versus self-interest. Role-play takes center stage as a player must work to strengthen the bonds of common interest within his group, in the hopes that when battle finally does occur, his own people won’t stab him in the back. To trust, or not to trust? In this finely nuanced game, there is no easy answer.

  It should come as no surprise that SCAVENGER’S DILEMMA is from the design team of Micah Bello, whose previous credits include STAR’S TEARS, BLACK AS BLOOD, and
of course, DRAGONSLAYER. We’ve come to expect complex games from that team, weaving together action-filled adventures with moral and philosophical challenges, and this one does not disappoint. Whether you are a beginning gamer or a seasoned veteran, SCAVENGER’S DILEMMA will have something for you. Highly recommended.

  Selma Sommers

  Virtual Reviews, Issue 123.5

  HARMONY NODE

  INSHIP: ARTEMIS

  THE RESPONSE from Jericho didn’t have her name on it. It didn’t have his name on it, either. Paranoia, or reasonable precautions?

  I received your encrypted data packet. All of the security seals were still in place when it arrived.

  Payment for services rendered has been transferred to your account. I believe that the information you have gathered qualifies you for the Guild bounty, and when you return I will see that you get it.

  To say that your conclusions are unsettling is an understatement. Whoever was responsible for the situation on Shenshido, we must assume they have the potential to do the same on other stations. Such technology could undermine the stability of the outworlds, casting them into chaos as it did with Shenshido. Until we know more about who is responsible and what their plans are—and how all of this is tied to the Dragonslayer incident—we are just stumbling in the dark. We need to find out who is behind this, and why.

  You are the person best suited to seek out that information. Indeed, you may well be the only person who can do so freely. Harmony is pressing us to abandon any interest in the Dragonslayer assault, which raises the question of whose agenda our leaders are serving. You alone are outside the circle of suspicion, unrestricted in your actions. It is my hope that you will agree to follow the trail you have identified and continue to gather information. Accordingly I offer continuation of our per diem arrangement, and generous financial reward if you are successful. More is not possible in advance, I regret, lest the transfer of funds draw attention to our activity. For now, please accept my own personal marker for a future favor, as security. Given my position in the Guild, such a debt has considerable value. I can only hope it is enough to convince you to continue.

  Regarding your concern about the survivors on Shenshido, rest assured, I will make sure they are rescued. It may not be on the schedule they would prefer, since, as you point out, that would alert our enemy that we are on to him, but I will make sure that their future recovery is guaranteed.

  Regarding your request for information:

  Micah Bello is dead. This was just announced by Tridac Enterprises, his employer for the past five years. Are you sure that the person on your skimmer is really him? I am attaching some data you can use to confirm his identity, and I recommend you do not discuss any sensitive matters with him until you have done so.

  According to Tridac, Bello was the one responsible for the Dragonslayer explosion. They were planning to bring him in for questioning when he fled their station, and in the ensuing chase, both he and his ship were destroyed. That is what they have reported to us. Needless to say, that chain of events seems remarkably convenient, in terms of covering up any involvement they might have had in this affair. One wonders what their true role is in all of this.

  Meanwhile, be wary of Bello. It sounds like he didn’t know anything about the Shenshido experiment, so if there is a terrorist conspiracy I doubt he is part of it, but there is no denying that he specializes in the very type of programming that may have been used in the Harmony assault. Even if he didn’t contribute directly to Shenshido’s downfall, software that he designed might have been used for that purpose. If so, he has an interest in this matter that directly conflicts with our own. I appreciate that he has been a useful ally up to now, but please bear these things in mind as you deal with him.

  You should plan on bringing him directly to me when you return. I am attaching a set of fake ID for him to use until then. If Tridac truly believes Bello is dead, we should give them no reason to think otherwise. But do not underestimate the importance of delivering him to me first thing when you return. He may carry a dangerous malware infection and needs to be quarantined until we can determine what kind of threat that implies.

  Background: Before his flight, Bello was a designer for Dobson Games, a subsidiary of Tridac, for whom he produced several award-winning multi-player virts, including Dragonslayer. In addition to an impressive résumé in the gaming industry, he has presented papers on virtual technology at several professional conferences—all well received—and published a book on virt technology. Before coming to Tridac, he worked briefly for Guildmaster Vienna. I can find no information on his duties there, which suggests he may have been part of Vienna’s private hacking team. Given that, and his programming specialty, you will understand why I caution you to be wary.

  The choice of where to go from here on is yours to make. I hope it involves further investigation of this matter, but I can only request that of you, not order it. Let me know what you decide, and if you do choose to continue, what support you require from me.

  Leaning back in her chair, Ru muttered, “Fuck.”

  She hadn’t slept well. Images from Shenshido ruled her dreams: bloody, violent. Now, thanks to Jericho’s letter, she was imagining even worse horrors. What would it be like to return from an outriding mission and discover that in her absence other stations had become like Shenshido, full of delusional humans warring like barbarians in their corridors? The thought was enough to chill the soul. But so was the thought that the task of preventing such a fate might fall upon her shoulders. She was an outrider, nothing more. Messenger to lost colonies. Occasionally a diplomat. It was the Guild’s job to worry about humanity’s ultimate fate; she was just an employee.

  And now barely that, she thought irritably. Jericho’s offer of compensation didn’t come close to what the next step of this investigation should pay. No doubt he thought that her innate curiosity, her insatiable hunger for new experiences, would make it impossible for her to refuse the assignment. Never mind that he was asking her to enter a region of space controlled by the worst dregs of humanity, accompanied by no better than a fantasy game designer and a scav who would probably sell them both out in a heartbeat. Curiosity would win out over all that, right?

  Damn you, Jericho. She sighed. That had better be one hell of a favor you’re offering.

  She opened the file Jericho had sent her on Bello. As promised, there was a set of false ID included, as well as a note assuring her that all its details had been entered in the relevant databanks. If anyone tried to research Bello’s new identity, it would pass muster. There was a long list of facts about his life, some so utterly trivial that for a moment she couldn’t understand why Jericho had included them. Who really cared what Bello’s favorite food was in his childhood? But if the Sarkassan on her ship was an imposter who had memorized key facts about the real Bello’s life in order to pass for him, it was unlikely he’d know such piddling details. Which mean they could be used to test him. All right, so that was good to have. There was one more item at the bottom of the file, and when she saw it she cursed Jericho under her breath for placing it there, rather than up top where she would have seen it before reading everything else.

  Micah Bello’s DNA code.

  God alone knew how Jericho had gotten hold of it, or why he hadn’t considered it the most important item in the file. Maybe he hadn’t been sure that an outrider ship would have the equipment for genetic analysis—though, given the nature of outriding, that seemed a no-brainer. More likely he hadn’t thought she would be able to get a DNA sample from Bello without tipping him off. Well, that might have been true had Micah not just changed clothes on her ship. His armor had already been sterilized, but those terminally cute kittens he’d been wearing were probably swimming in his DNA.

  Expression grim, she uploaded Jericho’s data to the ship’s library, deleted and overwrote the rest of the encrypted message, then headed back to the re
ar of the ship to find that godawful pink T-shirt.

  * * *

  He looked peaceful, more or less. Relaxed in the sleep of utter exhaustion, with only a slight furrowing of the brow and occasional twitch to hint at the unpleasant nature of his dreams. Remembering how dark her own dreams had been, she sympathized. How much worse would this experience be for someone who had never seen humans devolve to a primitive state like that? At least her outriding career had prepared her for that part of the nightmare.

  Well, now she knew that he was really Micah Bello. His DNA had confirmed that much. But although Jericho had given her exhaustive details on his life, those were sterile facts that offered no insight into his soul. Watching him sleep now, she noted how graceful the tiger markings on his body were, framing his face, accenting his bare lower arms with streaks and whorls. The red eye of his dragon headset winked at her as his body stirred slightly with each breath. Did she find him attractive because his features were pleasing, or because he had pushed himself to the limit on Shenshido? He might have started out as a desk jockey, but he had proven his potential to become more than that.

  “That’s not creepy at all,” he said suddenly, startling her, “you staring at me while I sleep.”

  “Time to get up,” she told him. “Ivar’s ready to be released, and you and I have things we should talk about first.”

  He opened his eyes: still slightly bloodshot, she noted, but a thousand times better than before he’d gone to sleep. “How long have I been out?” His eyes unfocused for a moment as he consulted some internal data. “Three hours, forty minutes?”

  “Two complete sleep cycles. REM stages were unusually long. I waited for the last one to end.”

  He grimaced. “Not sure that was such a favor, given the dreams I had.” He pushed himself up to a sitting position, wincing as a bruise on his arm banged into the frame of the narrow bunk. “How’d you know what sleep stage I was in, anyway? Were you standing here all that time, watching my eyes twitch?”