Massively Multiplayer (48 page)

“MadHarp!”

“In the flesh.”

“Who are you,” Dinah demanded. “One of Ghostmaker’s dogs?”

“Professional acquaintance,” MadHarp corrected. He regarded her critically. “You know, Ghost called you a hag many times, but he understated how ugly you were.”

Dinah shrieked incoherently and charged forward. If she had asked Druin, he could have told her that this was one of MadHarp’s favorite tactics: taunting enemies until they charged forward, blundering in their rage while he coolly slit their throats. As it was, she never got the chance. Even armed with the enchanted spear of Mender, Dinah was no weapons-master. She was used to ordering others into battle, letting others bleed for her cause, convinced to their dying breath that the woman with the grandmotherly smile couldn’t possibly be sending them to their deaths. Her disciples might not have recognized her now. There was little of her matronly demeanor in evidence as she charged blindly up the dais, spear leveled at MadHarp’s throat.

The assassin pivoted almost casually, bowing Dinah past him, before whipping out his own slim sword and plunging it into her back.

Lady Dinah Ebon. Circle: 17. Wealth: 893,450

You have been logged in for 73 minutes. Your character has died. Thank you for playing Crucible v4.1.

The scattered bones around the dais had told Druin that the power inherent in Mender’s weapons was enough to tempt many to murder. Of their party, he trusted Ghostmaker significantly less than Dinah, and had been almost relieved when the old woman had struck.

But Dinah was clearly coming unhinged, and he should have been happy to be rescued from her less-than-Grandmotherly plans for the party. But, since the rescuer was MadHarp, someone he knew was well around the bend before being exposed to titanically powerful weaponry, he felt less than secure.

For good or ill, Druin’s paralysis did not effect the more straightforward Malcolm. All Malcolm knew was that someone – Gil’s creepy sycophant, apparently – had just murdered one of their party, and smiled as he did it. For the loyal-hearted young man, that was reason enough to demand an accounting.

“Halt, villain!” he shouted, and snatched up the broad-bladed Sword of Mender from Ghostmaker’s corpse. “Drop thy weapons or thou shall...shalt…drop it or I’ll kick your ass!”

MadHarp turned from his contemplation of Dinah’s corpse to consider the frothing figure. “Really? That’s funny, little boy.”

Malcolm hefted the sword to his shoulder. “I mean it! Drop your weapons and get down here.”

“Drop my weapons? What, like this one?” MadHarp flicked a wrist and there was a bright sliver of steel between his fingers. Even at this distance, Druin could see the telltale greenish sheen of poison.

“Drop it!” Malcolm demanded.

MadHarp shrugged. “You asked for it.” He snapped his hand down flat, sending the slim dart straight for Malcolm’s chest.

“No!” With a shrill cry, Princess Enduring Diamond Butterfly pushed Malcolm from behind, knocking him to one knee. MadHarp’s blade caught her right in the neck.

“Smashed?” Tenser asked quietly. “Blanks, what does she mean smashed?”

“Ummm.”

Sumter cackled. “He didn’t tell you? Ha ha ha! And I bet you thought you two were getting along sooo well, too! Well, Tenser, I guess that just goes to show you that there really are no friends at the game table, are there. Just more or less obvious competition. Everyone’s out to win. Ha ha ha!”

Blanks looked both peeved and chagrined. “It was never a serious option, so it never came up. We’ve arranged a perfectly acceptable compromise, so—“

“Perfectly acceptable for you two, not me,” Sumter snapped. “You brokered a deal with your NSA contacts, but I’m the one who represents our interests in this case, and I say that Tenser signs his recommitment now or his little empire goes down.”

Marcus appeared calm. “I think someone should explain to me just what is being threatened here.”

“Black ice,” said Sumter with an evil grin. “Complete viral techsplosion.”

“You don’t have the access.”

“Wrong! Blanks planted it on your little friend, the Hunter kid. He’s got a direct link to your game, and you’ve already proven you’ve got root access to the Archimago system.”

Marcus Tenser’s mouth dropped open. He whirled on Blanks.

“You said you loaded spyware, not executables!”

Blanks’ hands were up. “We had no idea at the time whether you were a real threat to national security, we had to—“

“Do you know what will happen if she sets that thing off?!?” Marybeth wailed.

“Complete and total shut-down,” Sumter said happily. “The digital equivalent of a nuclear bomb. I give the command codes and Hunter’s system will be wiped clean. Then your private network, Tenser. Then the whole Archimago server system, and every computer connected to it. They’ll be days reconstructing it from backups.”

Bernardo Calloway finally seemed to comprehend what everyone was talking about. “But, we can’t have that! Not on top of the investigation by the EU, and the suspicion we’re getting from our domestic clients! If our system drops offline, wipes our clients’ files, we’ll be ruined! You can’t do that! We had a deal! There are laws!”

“Yes there are,” Sumter said grimly. “And I’m them.” She indicated the two nearest computer operators. “Verner and Hamilton, you are to stand by to deliver the codes.” She grinned wildly. “You play by my rules, Tenser, or you get to see the company you love go down in flames. I have a pad ready. Sign it.”

Druin stumbled forward just quickly enough to ease Butterfly to the ground. The poison from MadHarp’s blade, whatever it was, was fast. Already she had grown rigid with paralysis, only her eyes rolling wildly. Then Malcolm was beside him, grabbing at the dart and flinging it away. Butterfly’s eyes found his and lingered for a long moment before going finally gray and glassy.

Druin eased up from his crouch. Malcolm remained kneeling, eyes downcast.

There was a thin slapping noise. MadHarp was clapping softly, a sardonic grin plastered across his face.

“That…now that was really touching.” He brushed at an imaginary tear. “Ah, Dru, Dru, Dru. It gets me right here.” He indicated his heart. “Where do you think it’s going to get you?”

In some games, it is possible to see who will win far in advance. One player seems to have all the advantages, or makes a few lucky dice rolls, or pulls the right cards, and the rest of the game is a desperate scramble for second place. Good game developers call this a “runaway leader” problem, and it is generally agreed, in design circles, that in a well-made game, it should be difficult to tell who is going to make the winning move until it is made.

All eyes in the room were on the frozen tableau of Ms. Sumter, Agent Blanks, and Marcus Tenser, a trio of statues in variously aggressive postures, each apparently daring the others to make the next move.

That is why no-one noticed Wolfgang Wallace casually lean over the nearest unused terminal microphone and activate it.

“So, these are the weapons I’ve been hearing so much about lately,” gloated MadHarp as he wrenched the spear from the dead Dinah’s clutches. He hefted the weapon, twirling it around its axis. The shaft hissed softly and the bladed head glowed.

“Impressive looking,” MadHarp said. He poked at the nearest pile of bones. “And apparently very effective. I guess the condition of these guys proves they’re effective too. It’s going to be a pleasure seeing what they can do to a lama like you.” He jabbed the glowing spearhead at Druin, who backed away.

“MadHarp, I don’t know what your deal was with Ghostmaker, but Gil’s going to want these…”

“Gil? Gil? Why would I give these to him? No, little loser, Gil’s not getting these. I’ve been looking for the break I needed to get out from under that idiot for a year now. Gil’s got ambitions but he’s too soft to ever make it. No, with these, I’ll be able to buy into something worth my talents. Heptarchy, maybe.” He jabbed at Druin again, and the spear hissed aggressively. “But I have to check them out first, you know? Make sure they work. Nothing personal.” He giggled. “Well, I take that back. This is going to be a pleasure.”

But before he could raise the spear for a killing thrust, they were startled by a hissing, scratching sound that pulsed from the air above their heads. MadHarp tensed at a loud pop which seemed to issue from the ceiling, and then the air was filled by unfamiliar voices.

“Sign it, Tenser, or the whole system goes down.”

“I can’t believe this. Did you know about this Blanks? Did you just set me up?”

“I assure you that I did not, Mr. Tenser. Ms. Sumter, you are making a grave error. I am the oversight and coordinating officer for this investigation and…”

“Stuff it, Blanks! Your investigation ended the minute Tenser walked through that door. I don’t answer to you.”

“But you still answer to the NSA, right
?” asked a new voice, one which Druin found strangely familiar.
“Are they going to approve of your destroying an entire company, taking down an entire computer network, because of a personal grudge about how the investigation was handled?”

“National Security doesn’t answer to the corporate sector either, Wallace.”

“But will the NSA approve of your wiping out Archimago’s database just to pressure a lone deserter?”

Packer? thought Druin. Packer Divide?

“I am empowered to use any means necessary to contain security threats,” Sumter growled, turning on Wallace.

“I’m sure you are,” Wolfgang nodded reasonably, “but what makes you think Tenser is even a threat?”

“He’s proven he’s capable and willing to illegally obtain classified security information, using civilian networks to circulate that data…”

“But you’re talking about using a civilian’s computer too,” Wolfgang pointed out, very loudly. Marybeth raised an eyebrow. “You can only make this attack if that civilian computer remains connected to the corporate network…”

Civilian computer…connected to the Archimago network…Blanks, the FBI Agent, had put something into his computer, and now Packer’s voice was telling him…

Druin suddenly jumped up, drawing two throwing knives from his vest sheathes.

He threw one at MadHarp, the poorest throw of his life. The blade spanged harmlessly off the glowing sarcophagus, but it brought MadHarp’s attention back to him.

“Ha!” Druin yelled, “you almost fell for my, uh, distraction!”

“What? What the hell is that, you goddamn lama?”

“Movie of the week!” yelled Druin, and tossed his other knife, missing MadHarp by a good three feet. “Almost got you that time too!”

MadHarp took a ragged step backwards, clearly off balance. “You’ve gone crazy! You’re crazy, lama!”

“Then
KILL ME
!” Druin howled, pulling out his fighting knives and leaping forward.

The assassin needed no more encouragement. With a grunt of frustration, he leveled Mender’s Spear and rammed it through Druin the Reaver’s heart.

Verner, the Pentagon man in charge of the nearest terminal suddenly leaned over as a bright yellow light flared and faded from his display. “Ms. Sumter?”

“What?”

“Hunter is no longer connected to the Archimago network.”

MadHarp wrinkled his lip in disgust as he withdrew the spear from Druin’s chest. He’d had plans – lingering ones – for the little thief. So intent was he on his disappointment that the minstrel assassin didn’t even notice as Malcolm rose up silently behind him, wound up with the glowing broadsword and, with a mighty swing, swept MadHarp’s head clean off.

Sumter paled. “Do it. Send the activation code, send it now!”

Verner tapped gamely away at the desktop for a moment, but shook his head. “Sorry, Ms. Sumter. There’s nothing there. He’s gone.”

Druin the Thief. Circle: 6. Wealth: 3,923. You have been logged in for 76 minutes. Your character has died. Thank you for playing Crucible v4.1.

Epilogue

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Well, how is Tenser adjusting to being in charge again instead of my fugitive assistant? More importantly, how is the CD team developing to having him in charge again?”

“Really well, I think.” Wolfgang leaned back, contemplating the ceiling. “He’s got his work cut out for him, at least. The stories we leaked of ‘accidental’ inclusion of commercial textures from Vital Enterprise’s other companies didn’t fool as many people as we’d hoped. And those we did convince now think we’re semi-incompetent. We lost a lot of users, and now Marcus has to put together a full update and expansion to lure them back.”

“But we’ll weather it. The content delivery system is still unmatched.”

He nodded. “There’s that. And then again, Tenser’s public return to the company was a news story in itself. A lot of people trust him.”

Marybeth contemplated him fondly. “A lot of people trust you too.”

He blushed. “I wouldn’t if I were them. I was pretty clueless the whole time, and I shouldn’t have been. As Marcus said, I guess I’m not devious enough.”

She came around his desk and kissed him on the nose. “That’s not actually a flaw. Quite the opposite.”

He blushed, if possible, even more deeply. Abruptly he sat up, pushing himself away from the desk. If Marybeth was going to keep standing that close to him, he was in danger of committing some serious violations of company policy.

Marybeth let him edge past, grinning so widely he knew that he was as transparent to her as the holographic display over his desk.

“Coffee?”

“Do you absolutely promise me you won’t even touch the pot?”

“Deal.”

The elevator doors opened onto the executive floor of the Archimago building, and Henry waved out his boss with the gently shooing gesture one might use on a baby duck. Bernardo Calloway had been coming to work later and later over the past week, in stark contrast to his early-to-rise no-nonsense manner of the preceding month. Gone too was the brusque manner, the imperious commands, and the upturned nose of a man who knew he was getting away with something. The new Bernardo was a man of bowed back, hunched shoulder and perpetually chagrinned expression, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.