Gameprey nfe-11

by Tom Clancy

  “They say King Arthur expects much from his knights.”

  “From his knights, yes, but there are many common people here this day, too.”

  Catie followed the knight’s gaze around the large room. A winding staircase made of the same darkly veined brown stone as the castle looked like a wide river moving sedately up to the second floor.

  A chandelier covered over with a thousand or more burning tapers hung from the center of the ceiling above, augmenting the natural light that came in through the large windows. Banquet tables set up with meats, breads, and fruits looked as if they should have bowed under the immense weight. The stone floor was immaculate, made of huge flagstones carefully fitted together. Hundreds of guests stood around, talking in groups and sampling the fare from the tables.

  “It’s all so beautiful,” Catie said.

  “Of course it is,” the knight said with a small smile. “It is Camelot. How could it be anything else?”

  “I don’t know.” Catie shook her head in wonder. Legend of the Lake was an Arthurian fantasy, but now she felt guilty for having given the game description only cursory inspection.

  “And on the day when the king officially chooses his queen,” the knight said, “this room had best be filled with gaiety and laughter.”

  “Or else?” Catie couldn’t help asking, then realized the comment was anachronistic to the time frame of the game.

  The knight glanced at her briefly. “Or else,” he agreed.

  Catie laughed, taken with the moment, forgetting all the weirdness that had happened last night. “You’re not from around here.”

  The knight grinned and shook his head. “No. And neither are you.”

  “I’m Catie.” And in keeping with the game’s design, she curtsied. She loved the way the long dress she wore fit her. The gossamer green material felt like silk and was artfully beaded with rubies and yellow amethysts.

  “Roger,” the knight replied, “and I’ll be your Lancelot for your stay.” He bowed effortlessly despite the armor.

  “Lancelot is a big role,” Catie commented.

  “I like big roles. I like girls, too.”

  Catie laughed. Uh-oh, I’ll bet he’s all of eleven or twelve. “That’s good to know.”

  “Do you want to go talk somewhere? A private chatroom in Hotel Camelot, maybe?” The little boy’s leer on the angelic face looked totally out of place.

  “Sorry, that wasn’t on my tour itinerary.”

  “Hey,” Roger said, “I’m Lancelot.”

  “Maybe on the outside.” Catie turned and walked around the huge cistern to put room between her and the amorous knight.

  Roger followed. “I’ve got a big part in this game. The Lady in the Lake gets attacked, and Arthur and I have to go save her.”

  “I’m sure there’s plenty of adventure to go around,” Catie told him.

  “Yeah, if you’re into subplots instead of the main event,” Roger said. “I’ve kind of always been a main-event kind of guy.”

  “As I recall,” Catie said, still on the move, “Lancelot wasn’t a lech.”

  “You have something against bloodsucking invertebrates?”

  “That’s a leech.” Catie considered. “Although I guess the line between the two does blur a little. I can see how you’d be confused.”

  Roger scowled, twisting the handsome Lancelot proxy’s face into a distortion. “Hey, I got the cheats for this game from a place I know on the Net. This demo normally only runs a general audiences loop, but I can access the adult programming. Wanna play?”

  Gross! Catie spun on Roger, bringing him up short even though he towered a full head over her. He rocked on his steelclad tiptoes as she punched him in the chest with a forefinger. “Are you listening to me, you tin-plated little creep?”

  “Anybody ever tell you that you are pretty when you are angry?” Roger tried another Lancelot grin.

  “Have you ever heard of Morgan Le Fey?” Catie demanded.

  “She was a witch trained by Merlin,” Roger answered. “If you know your King Arthur stuff, you know about her.”

  “Well, I’m her,” Catie said, “and unless you want to spend the rest of the demo as an armored toad clunking around on your tiny tin rump all covered in wart pimples, I’d stay away from me if I were you.”

  “You wouldn’t do that,” Roger said, but he didn’t sound so sure. “I’ve got a big part to play. I’m a hero. Without me, the evil sea hag menacing the Lady in the Lake won’t get killed.”

  “I think we’d manage.”

  Roger narrowed Lancelot’s china blue eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

  “Ribbit,” Catie croaked tauntingly.

  “I’m too important to the game,” Roger went on, gathering his courage. “I’m the hero. I’m going to save—”

  “A dragon!” someone yelled.

  Catie spun and glanced out the nearest window, following the line of people that suddenly formed there. She peered through the glass and spotted the dragon. It was impossible to miss. From the description Matt and Maj had given she felt certain that she’d found their missing dragon. She ran forward, trying to get a closer look.

  The dragon flew straight for the castle, quickly passing overhead and out of sight.

  “There aren’t supposed to be any dragons in this game,” Roger said at her side.

  “You’d think there’d be a law against creeps, too.” Catie looked across the great hall, trying to spot another window that would allow her a view of the dragon as it passed over.

  “I’m not a creep,” Roger protested. “I’m the greatest hero in all of Camelot. My bravery is renowned, a legend throughout the whole—”

  “Trolls!” someone shouted. “We’re under attack by giant armored trolls!”

  Before Catie could do more than start to turn, the wall exploded and the sound of an incoming round filled the great hall in the next moment. The concussion knocked her to the ground and sent man-sized blocks spinning from the wall. Several of them crushed the banquet tables as well as the guests seated around them.

  “To arms!” a regal voice bellowed. “To arms, my knights!”

  Glancing up, Catie spotted King Arthur standing at the second-story railing, peering down over the wreckage that had once been the palace’s great hall. His flowing red hair reached his shoulders and his beard curled out imperiously. Two pages helped him pull his armor together, and he raised the mighty sword Excaliber.

  Clanking noises sounded as the first of the armored trolls arrived.

  Instead of some medieval giant in hammered plate, the troll appeared to be a forty-foot-tall futuristic robot equipped with lasers and rockets. It strode into the room through the hole left by the explosions. A machine gun mounted on its shoulder fired a steady stream of blistering death across the great hall.

  “For Arthur!” a knight cried, charging at the new arrival with his sword raised high. “For Camelot!”

  The machine gun swept across him, stitching him with heavy rounds that knocked him from his feet. The knight flew backward and disappeared, logged off in mid-flight.

  “Forget it!” Roger yelled, pushing himself to his feet and hurling himself out of the line of fire.

  Some hero, Catie thought sarcastically as she got to her feet. She stared through the swirling dust left by the explosions, noticing other shadows that trailed the robot.

  A long, thin man with a white beard and a conical hat with stars and moons on it charged out to meet the first robot. His cape swirled around his shoulders as he gestured and cried out words Catie didn’t understand. He threw his hand out, and a wall of force rocked the robot backward.

  The metal creature stumbled backward and rammed an elbow through part of the stone wall left standing. Even as more debris tumbled down and banged against it, the robot righted itself, then lifted a foot and brought it crashing down on the old mage.

  A young male voice pealed out with the electronic thunder of amplified speakers. “Permanent press, guys! Boo-
yeahhhh!” He launched a rocket from the shoulder-mounted weapon that wiped out the second floor landing where King Arthur stood.

  Mark Gridley suddenly appeared beside Catie. He looked at her in concern. “You might want to consider logging off.”

  Catie didn’t question how Mark had known she was in Legend of the Lake. He’d walked her there before pursuing his own interests. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “There’s trouble all through the convention center,” Mark re plied. “The hotel security programs are getting fried with systematic failures, and Pete’s dragon has shown up in most of the games.”

  “If I log off, I may lose the chance of figuring out what’s going on here.” Catie sneezed as the swirling dust triggered the reaction. Conversation was barely possible over the mechanized sounds of the giant robots and the screams of the banquet guests. “I’m part of this programming. Maybe I can isolate the dragon’s signature here and track it back.”

  Before she could move, the giant robot turned faster than she’d expected, catching her up in one huge, three-fingered hand that curled around her like a steel prison.

  “Hey, now,” the thunderous boy’s voice bellowed over the speakers, “you’re a cute one!”

  12

  Unable to bear the pain anymore and knowing he was fighting a losing battle against the antivirus programming Peter Griffen had coded into the veeyar, Gaspar Latke ripped the three crimson wires from his eye. He was afraid to look at the wires, terrified that the eye had come with it.

  He forced himself up on shaking legs, panting like a bellows as the familiar gut-wrenching ache of a panic attack filled him. “I’m logging off,” he told Heavener. “It’s over here.”

  “Then knock out the security programming in the hotel,” Heavener directed. “We have to get Griffen off the premises.”

  “Who are you?” a sharp voice demanded.

  Gaspar wheeled around, spotting Peter Griffen at the far end of the room.

  “What did you do?” Griffen ran at Gaspar, drawing back a hand that suddenly filled with neon gases.

  Working hurriedly, dropping back into the hacker’s survival frame of mind, Gaspar made himself two-dee again and wound through the security programming protecting the veeyar.

  Peter threw the spinning, gaseous ball.

  Gaspar knew the ball contained a trace utility. Cold fear stabbed deep within him. He had no doubts about Peter’s ability to develop a trace utility that would be next to impossible to beat. He oozed through the security programming just before the trace utility splattered against the coding.

  Then he was back in the convention center, watching from his holo self as the gaming crowd raced into the Eisenhower Productions booth.

  “Hotel security!” a man yelled, pushing past Leif and heading for the besieged booth.

  “Los Angeles Police Department!” a uniformed officer bellowed, hot on the security guard’s heels.

  Gaspar gazed around at the utter pandemonium that filled the convention center and felt guilty. He’d been to the convention a couple times in the past. He’d never gone legally, of course, always on identities he’d “borrowed” from corporate databases he’d managed to crack. Attending the convention those times had often been highlights of the year.

  Now he was responsible for ruining this year’s event.

  “Latke,” Heavener called.

  “I’m working,” Gaspar said. He took the specially built icon from his pocket, one of the best from his bag of tricks, and fed it directly into the hotel’s computer systems through the reciprocal programming that maintained the holofeeds. He checked the progress of his program against the wristcom connecting him to the hotel security.

  In seconds the program became part of the security system and every cam in the hotel went offline. “It’s down,” he told Heavener.

  Matt stared at the ironbound chariot wheel swamping through the grainy yellow sand straight at his head. He tried to get up, but the sand kept slipping out from under him. The chariot wheel caught him dead center as the driver yelled out in savage glee.

  Pain filled Matt’s body, twisting him up, but it wasn’t anything more than what he’d programmed on the feedback allowed from the Net. He was automatically logged off.

  Matt opened his eyes and inhaled sharply, trying to get his bearings.

  “Are you all right, sir?”

  Matt blinked at the flight attendant, trying to remember where he was for just a moment. Then he felt the familiar sensation of flying. “Yes, thank you. I was playing online. It didn’t turn out so well.”

  The flight attendant nodded sympathetically.

  “So how’d you get it?” Leif asked. “Find out you had a really slow goblin?”

  “It looked liked a Roman war chariot,” Matt answered, “but I couldn’t swear to it. I got shoved into another game from Goblin King. I also saw the dragon there.”

  “The one you and Maj saw?”

  “Yeah.” Matt glanced at Andy, who lay motionless in the seat beside him. “I don’t think it belonged there, either. How’s Andy?”

  “Still playing,” Leif replied. “Why didn’t you think the dragon belonged there?”

  “This demo felt like a straight start game, and the dragon was just there, not really interacting at all. Where did you get shunted to?”

  “Here. I got taken out by one of those little ships and was logged completely off the Net. I tried to get back into the demo veeyar, but it’s off-line.”

  Matt looked at Andy and started to get worried.

  “Then where’s Andy?”

  Andy studied the heads-up display available to him in the cockpit, recognizing the control configuration immediately. The Space Marines series of games were a personal favorite of his, and he had high scores on a half-dozen Net sites that ran the games.

  Cyber-augmented gloves and boots encased his hands and feet and controlled the forty-foot battlesuit. Automatically he ran through the systems displays and weapons checklist. The arms and legs were all in good working order.

  The helmet that fit over his head contained the HUD. Pull-down menus kept track of his heading and armament. A long, letter-box-shaped screen fit over his eyes like a visor, giving him a full 360-degree view around the battlesuit as well as overhead.

  “Alternative vidscreen,” Andy commanded. “Reduce field of view to one hundred eighty degrees with rearviews on the sides.”

  Immediately the viewscreen blurred out of focus, changing from the panoramic spread to an eyes-forward view. Two round sections on either side gave him the view behind him. The radar screen above it pinged targets, then the identify-friend-or-foe function kicked in, reading the signature of the other four cavalry units within the half-klick sweep.

  Andy only thought about the sudden change from the Goblin King game to the Space Marines for a moment. It really didn’t matter to him. Gameplay was gameplay. All he wanted to do was roll up a score. I wouldn’t have been able to talk Leif and Matt into this. There aren’t any dragons in Space Marines.

  He flexed his hands and feet, moving the seventy-ton war machine into a distance-eating stride. The cockpit swung only slightly, helping create the illusion that he actually was the big battlesuit.

  “Open comm,” Andy said.

  The comm opened with a crackle of static, and voices immediately filled the void. “Blue Niner, this is Blue Leader, do you copy?” a young male voice demanded.

  “Blue Niner copies,” another voice answered. “Have you identified the new guy?”

  New guy? That must be me. “Blue Leader,” Andy said. “I need a designation.”

  “Affirmative. Blue Leader reads you. Not all of our company made the jump from Space Station Zebra. Evidently we uncovered some anomaly in the targeted space station that transported us here.”

  “Understood.” Andy swung the big battlesuit around, falling in behind the four units. “Kind of went through that myself.”

  “You weren’t with us at the space station?�
� Blue Leader asked.

  “That’s negative, Blue Leader. Ended up here by accident myself.” Andy easily moved the battlesuit up to a jog.

  “Seems you’ve got a lot of experience in the suit.”

  “I’ve fought my share of battles,” Andy agreed. Sweeping the terrain around him, he was only slightly surprised to spot the castle under attack ahead.

  Space Marines traveled everywhere and fought anyone. As space-bred mercenaries living and dying on huge torus wheels spinning through known and unknown galaxies, they never knew where the next battleground was going to be. One of the Space Marine companies Andy battled with on a regular basis had been in existence for more than two years. He’d encountered futuristic worlds as well as medieval ones.

  “Your designation is Blue Thirteen,” Blue Leader said.

  “My lucky number,” Andy replied laconically. “What’s the target?”

  “Don’t know,” Blue Leader answered. “We were on a pure hit-and-git-shoot-to-kill mission when we ended up here. The way we figure it, everything here is fair game.”

  “Magnify vision,” Andy said. His field of view slid forward, zooming in on the castle. One of the Space Marine units stepped through a hole blasted in the side of the castle. The machine gun blazed, driving back a group of men that had stepped forward to challenge the intruder.

  Andy took in the banquet area and noted the medieval weapons the guards used. The combat was too one-sided for his taste. “You’re looking at a massacre here, Blue Leader.”

  “You say massacre,” Blue Leader responded, “and I say easy points.”

  A feeling of wrongness dampened Andy’s mood. It was one thing to play Space Marines when challenging an adequate enemy force, but executions were another matter entirely.

  The group Andy gamed with in the Space Marines comprised mercenaries with a conscience. They sold their skills honorably and stood by the contracts they undertook. In fact, Andy and his friends had, on more than one occasion, invaded solar systems in the game where outlaw Space Marines had holed up and killed any new gamers wanting to play in those areas.