Massively Multiplayer (47 page)

Ghostmaker released Malcolm, who crumpled to the floor. Butterfly dropped her wand and knelt quickly beside him. Dinah lowered her staff, clearly disappointed.

“Just...I don’t know,” Druin said lamely. Ghostmaker was glaring at him. “Take it out on the statue, I guess.”

Still glaring darkly at him, Ghostmaker hefted his broad-headed axe from the armory at his belt. Without taking his eyes from Druin’s, he delivered a backhanded blow which smashed against the statue. Marble chips flew. Two more blows and the statue’s cowled head was severed from its mooring, crashing to the floor.

The third gate vanished.

Ahead, they could see light.

“Alright, I have the final module ready. It’s a whopper – complete root control, change logging, and a masked telecom suite, all wrapped up in a targeted virus.”

“Sounds comprehensive.”

“It is. And quite large, which is why I need to give their firewalls an excuse for the sudden burst of data I’m about to launch. And here it comes...”

The first thing they noticed was the size. After walking for what seemed miles underground, the enormity of Mender’s burial chamber seemed like the great outdoors. Druin felt released from a claustrophobia he hadn’t known he’d been feeling.

The ceiling stretched away into an endless blackness, without a speck of stalactite or reflected stone to mar the illusion of an open evening sky. To the left and right, the walls disappeared in a subtle curve which, if it were maintained, indicated a circular chamber as vast as the entire plateau on the mountain above them. The floor was smooth, almost glasslike in texture, like an obsidian mirror.

There was no mistaking their destination in all this vastness, however. There, perhaps fifty yards away, was a raised dais, illuminated by a great slab of greenish-white stone which glowed with an inner light.

“Mender’s coffin?” Druin asked.

“That’s my guess, mate,” Ghostmaker said, and boldly led the way forward.

They had traversed perhaps twenty yards before Malcolm, second in the line, stepped on something which crunched and crackled underfoot. “Hold it,” Ghostmaker ordered, then had Dinah bring the glowing tip of her staff near.

It was a pile of bone – ribs, most of a pelvis, and assorted unidentifiable bits. Malcolm had stepped right in it.

“Honor guard?” Ghostmaker guessed, hefting a broad chunk of bone.

“Sacrificial victim,” Dinah countered.

“Victim anyway,” Druin said. “This thing’s been burned.”

Ghostmaker shrugged, then nonchalantly tossed the pelvis he was holding over his shoulder. “Not my problem.”

The bone fragment landed with a clatter which indicated it hadn’t landed on the obsidian floor. “What the...”

A quick investigation revealed that the fragment had landed amid the remains of another casualty. This one bore no burn marks, but the skeleton had been completely cloven in two, just to the left of the breastbone.

Druin held up the rusty remains of a helmet, similarly split. “Whatever went through this guy went through
hard
.”

Further progress brought more grisly discoveries. In fact, the frequency of their finds increased as they neared the dais and its glowing sarcophagus.

Druin kept his eyes on the remains. “This is weird,” he said. “All these bodies, so you’d think the same thing got them. But some of these have been cut up, some burned, some smashed...that one looks like something just punched through it, and that pile of dust is—“

“Stuff it,” said Ghostmaker curtly. “We’re here for the goods, not the scenery.”

And here, at long last, were the goods themselves. The dais was only a few feet wider than the green glowing coffin, perhaps twelve feet across. Spaced about its circumference, at regular intervals, were a series of holes, each about two inches wide. Into several of these, the shafts of various weapons had been sunk – here a spear, there a warhammer, two halberds flanking a mace with a spiked ball on top.

“It is a magical trap,” Butterfly announced, “but an incomplete one.” She indicated the holes. “These are magical taps – they funnel the energy stored in these weapons to a central point, beneath the center of the platform. They are causing the coffin to glow.”

“What, like radiation?” Ghostmaker took a half-step backwards.

“No, fool,” Dinah said curtly. “They’re harmless like this. But if enough of them got together...”

“...if all the holes were filled...” Butterfly agreed.

“Boom,” said Druin.

“Right, so why’d he do that then?” Ghostmaker demanded. “Seems a stupid waste of time to make something just to blow it up.”

“Remember what the spirit said,” Druin reminded him. “Mender decided the weapons he’d created were too powerful, so he needed a way to get rid of them. I guess when you’re dealing with stuff this powerful, the only way is to turn them on each other.”

“And thus set the spirit to rest at last,” Butterfly agreed.

“Yeah, well bugger that,” Ghostmaker announced. He reached into a pile of bones and extracted a broad-bladed sword. Its edge gleamed wickedly, impossibly sharp amidst its ruined surroundings. “If these things are that good, they’re worth keeping or selling.”

“Or both,” agreed Dinah, yanking the spear from its hole in the dais. The light from the coffin dimmed slightly. “There’s plenty here, it seems, to accomplish much and to profit besides.”

“What makes you think your share will be big enough?” Ghostmaker demanded.

“Who said anything about sharing?” Dinah leveled the spear and ran him through.

“That’s it! That’s it! Yes! Owned!”

“Am I to assume from those comical noises that you were successful, Mr. Tenser?”

“You bet your government-funded pension-plan I was. Man I’m slick! Woot!”

It was several moments before Tenser became articulate again. While they were waiting, Wolfgang Wallace, Marybeth Langridge, and Bernardo Calloway joined the agents in their temporary headquarters. Wallace and Langridge looked smug, while Calloway looked like someone who’d been forced to swallow something unpleasant for his own good.

“Yeehaw! And now that I have these files, I can officially cement my position as a government rat by demanding my payment.”

“I had a notion we’d get to that,” Blanks said matter-of-factly. “And I think I could even hazard a guess as to what you’re after.”

“I’ve given you enough hints. Well, as a long-standing employee of Archimago Technologies...”

“Excuse me, but didn’t you resign when you renewed your military commission?”

“Clerical error. I was on indefinite leave. Paid leave, even. Mr. Calloway just now found the paperwork.”

“Uh-huh. Imagine that.”

“Yes, and after my return, I was made Regional Administrator for Content Development.”

“Congratulations on your promotion.”

“Thanks. And, while debugging some new content, I seem to have stumbled across some data about a few dozen of our users, which mysteriously filtered across our network. Very damning stuff. Which, naturally, I’ll hand over to the authorities.”

“We do appreciate it.”

“You sure do. You see, it would be impossible for me to serve my country in this fashion if, say, my company were shut down due to some messy litigation regarding certain commercial texture files which were entirely accidentally included in the most recent rollout.”

“Accidentally? Am I to understand these files have been deleted, and that there will be no further attempts to insert potentially subliminal advertising materials into future Archimago products?”

“As head of content development, I can personally guarantee that.”

“Even if such an investigation were underway,” Blanks mused, “what makes you think I have the power to stop it?”

“Don’t be coy, Agent Blanks. You served as senior investigator for financial crimes before you were transferred to computer crimes. You still have a lot of contacts and enough influence in that department to do this.”

“You seem to know a lot about me.”

“Did you think it was accidental that you were the one chosen to head this investigation?”

There was a long silence. When he spoke again, Agent Blanks’ tone was decidedly less friendly. “Are you implying that you somehow directly accessed the personnel files of the agency and influenced the assignment charts there?”

“Agent Blanks, you wound me.”

“Do not give me ideas, Mr. Tenser. And not that I would wound you as badly as some of your players are wounding each other, it seems,” Blanks gestured to the tabletop display, where a tiny Dinah had just stuck a tiny spear into a tiny Ghostmaker.

“Inevitable,” Tenser said. “And unimportant, as far as you’re concerned. So, we have a deal?”

Blanks was clearly still a bit suspicious, but he nodded stiffly. “We have a deal.”

“Well then,” said Marcus Tenser, opening the door to the adjoining programming suite, and turning off his mobile netlink, “you can pour me some coffee to celebrate.”

He was lanky, but not freakishly so, and had the slightly-funky air of someone who had spent too long closeted away from un and fresh air. Wolfgang looked pleased, while Agent Blanks merely raised an eyebrow. It was up to MaryBeth to truly freak out.

“Han!”

“Marcus, actually,” Tenser admitted. “Sorry for being absent the past few days...”

MaryBeth sat down and waved a hand weakly. “Wolf, I’d like you to meet my assistant. Han.”

Marcus shook Wolf’s hand sincerely. “You can’t imagine how hard it was to keep out of your way. Finally had to play sick.”

“But...but Han – Marcus – you’re the one who helped me map the shadow detail zones! You came up with the search routine!”

Tenser shrugged. “Had to give you some hints, didn’t I? Wouldn’t have been a fair game, otherwise.”

“Fair game,” said Ms. Sumter of the NSA, entering the room from the opposite side. “That’s a really funny phrase, particularly coming from you. Marcus Tenser, you are so under arrest.”

“Gah! Mad bitch, you’ve knackered me!”

“Oh I’ve been wanting to do that for while, you arrogant ass!” crowed Dinah. Druin and Malcolm started forward but she whirled and leveled the spear at them. The thing pulsed and rippled in the air like a heat-wave given solid form, and Ghostmaker’s blood hissed and steamed on its broad-bladed head.

“Back, you two! No moves!”

Ghostmaker groaned and she returned her attention to him, though she kept the humming spear pointed at the others. “Stupid, stupid man and his stupid brutish ways. Always men like you think they have total control, ordained by God. Strutting around, throwing your chest out, bah! You make me sick, stupid dog!”

Ghostmaker clutched a hand over his chest, apparently trying to stem the blood flow. “And what are you gonna’ do without me, eh you stupid hag?”

Dinah laughed shrilly. “God! Men like you have a blindness that runs through to your core. These three will carry the weapons back to the Pass, where my second in command is already waiting...”

“...unless mine has already offed ‘em,” Ghostmaker spat.

“You dare to betray me?!?” Dinah repositioned her grip on the spear and jabbed it at Ghostmaker.

“Look who’s talking!”

As they hurled insults at one another, Druin saw Butterfly reached up to her hair, tugging at the thin rod which she had secured there. Before he could decide which way to jump, however, Malcolm had leapt past him and grabbed Butterfly by the wrist.

“Stop! She’ll kill you!”

Dinah, alerted by his cry, swung the spear around. Ghostmaker took advantage of her distraction to tear a cord from his left wrist with his teeth. Something round and glittering fell from his sleeve. There was a tinkling sound and then a voice issued from the small silver stone which lay on the floor.

“Ghostmaker? What’s happening?”

Druin gasped. It was the voice of MadHarp.

“Harp, the old bitch has gone spare,” Ghostmaker yelled. “I need backup.”

“I’m coming through,” said the stone.

“Traitor!” shrieked Dinah, and rammed the spear home into GhostMaker’s chest.

Light bloomed above the little stone, and resolved into the figure of a man in green leathers.

“Well hello, Druin,” said MadHarp.

Warden Ghostmaker. Circle: 16. Wealth: 280,023 You have been logged in for 54 minutes. Your character has died. Thank you for playing Crucible v4.1.

“Ms. Sumter,” said Agent Blanks coolly. “May I ask what you mean?”

“Ditto,” said Tenser.

“I mean that you are under arrest for desertion of your assigned post, Mr. Tenser. Although I believe my superiors will overlook this fact if you come with me. We’ll also be taking copies of all the data you’ve obtained from your illicit activities here at Archimago Technologies…”

“Vital Enterprises,” Bernardo put in dully.

“Whatever…as evidence. Then you’ll turn over the search algorithms you used to dig up this material, and you’ll be developing additional modules for it to plug into more of these netvironmental applications.” Sumter grinned like a shark. “See, we can learn over at NSA. Your talents were clearly wasted programming training simulations.”

Blanks looked seriously annoyed. “I don’t believe I asked what Mr. Tenser was going to do, Ms. Sumter. I asked what you were doing.”

She turned to him. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m playing a game. And winning. You two love games, right? That’s all Tenser seems to know, and you just go right along with it, don’t you Blanks? Fine, you two want to play games, we’ll play games. I win.”

“I’m assuming you’ve got some brilliant trump card to pull out now,” said Marcus.

“You’re damned right. How did you put it, Tenser? Winning games is all about figuring out what the system, then convincing the other players that you have the high cards?”

“Something like that,” he agreed. “Resource management. Goal orientation.”

“Right. Well I know what your goal is, and I have the resources to shut it down.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your precious game,” Tenser hissed. “You’re coming with me and voluntarily renewing your commission right now or I’ll smash the whole god-damned thing.”