Gameprey

11

Maj stared at the space where Peter Griffen had been standing, wondering if his disappearance had been planned, or if this was another circumstance that had been completely out of his control.

She whirled to face the middle-aged man standing behind her. “Are you the security guard who grabbed me?”

The man held his open hands up. “I was just doing my job.”

“I know,” Maj said. “But I think you need to find Peter Griffen.”

“How?” the man asked. “As far as I know, he wasn’t even here.”

“Then I suggest you start asking people,” Maj replied. “Wherever he is, I think he’s in trouble.”

The dragon continued flying above them, squalling out its impatience as if it, too, realized its master was missing.

Maj reached into her jeans pocket and took out her foilpack. She reconfigured it into a vidphone and punched in Catie’s number. An automated message answered, offering to take a message. She’s probably still in a game, Maj realized. She punched in Megan’s number next.

“Hello,” Megan answered.

“Tell me you saw what happened.”

“I saw,” Megan replied. “I just don’t know what to make of it.”

Maj pushed her way through the crowd, not even bothering with being polite. Something way too weird was going on, and the clock was ticking. “I don’t think he did it on purpose.”

Flashlights joined the security lights in opening holes in the darkness.

“If it was just for effect, it seems to have had the desired effect.”

“Peter wasn’t planning this.” Maj put her free hand in front of her, testing the people in the crowd to find out how many were real and how many were holos. When she found someone who was holo, she pushed on through him or her.

“What makes you so sure?” Megan asked.

“I talked to him right before he disappeared. He was as confused by this as everyone else was.”

“I don’t think everyone was confused,” Megan observed. “Some of these people think this was the greatest stunt ever.”

A crowd gathered at the nearby gate leading into the Eisenhower Productions booth. They pounded on the gate and demanded entrance.

“Trust me,” Maj said. “Get hold of the others. Especially Mark. Maybe he can access some of the security vid systems and find Peter.”

“He was online in holo,” Megan reminded. “He could have been anywhere.”

“I’ve got a feeling he’s here,” Maj replied.

“If he is, we’ll find him.”

Maj folded the foilpack and held it in her hand. She looked down at the guy sitting at the Eisenhower table. “Where’s Peter Griffen?”

The guy nervously shook his head. “I don’t know. I thought he was here till he disappeared like that.”

Maj glanced at the crowd pounding on the booth’s gate, feeling the pressure of seconds ticking by. “Can you open those doors?”

“Not me. But maybe one of those guys can.” He pointed at a group of men in business suits. “They’re part of Eisenhower Productions.”

Maj walked toward the men, opened the foilpack, and pressed one of the speed-dial numbers she’d programmed in last night.

“Los Angeles Police Department,” the automated emergency voice answered. The voice was male, crisp, and efficient. The LAPD symbol filled the foilpack’s small vidscreen.

“I need to speak with Detective John Holmes,” Maj said. “He’s currently on assignment at the Bessel Mid-Town Hotel. This is an emergency. My name is Madeline Green. Detective Holmes will know me.”

“Thank you,” the automated voice said. “I’ll connect you momentarily.”

Maj stepped in front of the men in business suits, stopping almost ten feet away because other men who were obviously bodyguards stepped forward.

“Please stay back, miss,” a granite-jawed man said with thin politeness.

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Maj told them, “you’re about to have a full-scale riot on your hands. If you don’t produce Peter or open those gates, you’re going to get covered in some majorly bad press.”

“The girl’s right,” one of the men said to a guy in roundlensed glasses and a thin mustache. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Maj seized on that bit of information immediately. What wasn’t supposed to happen?

“Peter knew better than this,” the man with glasses said. “He didn’t stick to the game plan.”

“It’s too late to worry about that now,” the other man replied.

The man with glasses looked up at the big security guard next to him. “I want men inside the booth. I don’t want anything dismantled.”

“Yes, sir.” The man spoke into a wristcom, too low for Maj to overhear. She studied their faces, hoping she would be able to identify the men later if she had to.

An excited shout rang out behind her. She turned and watched as the gates to the Eisenhower Productions booth opened and the crowd swarmed in. She hurried to join the crowd flowing into the huge booth. She glanced up at the dragon twisting restlessly above the convention center, wishing it could somehow lead her to its master. But the dragon looked as lost as she felt.

The wires in Gaspar Latke’s eye started to burn horribly. He dropped to his knees in Griffen’s veeyar, forcing himself not to pull the wires free. He screamed with pain, knowing Heavener was monitoring every sound he made. But he couldn’t help himself.

The antivirus program stepped up the pace, filling the datastreams with bugs that worked furiously to repair the damage he was doing. Overlapping images from the convention center filled his vision, letting him know the whole area had gone ballistic.

“The program is bleeding over,” Heavener complained in the distance.

“I can’t stop it,” Gaspar gritted out.

“Then stop what you can,” Heavener advised. “I’ve got a team who will pick Griffen up.”

Unable to control himself, Gaspar curled a fist around the three crimson wires shoved deep into his eye socket. But he didn’t yank them out. Failing Heavener wasn’t an option.

He cried out in pain again, but he held on to the wires and curled up into a fetal ball, trying to keep his mind clear.

Catie Murray started at the blue-white marble cistern in the center of the reception area. It was elegant, beautifully made. The water arced from a pot carried by a large brown bear reaching for a beehive hanging from a tree branch high overhead. In the physical world, and at the time of King Arthur and Camelot, tapping the artesian well in such a fashion would have been the work of a master. But in the Legend of the Lake game demo, it was gracefully rendered.

She stuck her fingers into the water, finding it cool to the touch. Impulsively she brought her fingers to her lips. The water was ambrosia, almost honey-sweet.

“They say,” a pleasantly cultured voice said from behind her, “you’re never supposed to drink the water from faery lands because you’ll be forever trapped there.”

Embarrassed, Catie turned to face the speaker.

Like the artesian well, he was beautiful, a blond-haired angel dressed in polished silver armor. A broadsword with a prominent crosspiece hung from his hip. He carried his helm in on arm, his gauntlets in one hand. His china blue eyes regarded her with interest.

“Lady,” he said softly, “my humble apologies for startling you.”

“That’s quite all right.” Catie found herself tumbling easily into the flowery speech patterns of the game. “I didn’t mean to offend. There were no signs.”

The man smiled. “As if that many people in these times could read.”

“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!”