Gameprey

2

The guy on the dragon’s back wore silvery-gray ring mail armor that covered his torso as well as his arms and legs. The armored helm masked half his face but left his strong jawline visible. Long black hair trailed from the back of the helm. Gems studding the helmet and armor gleamed in the sun’s light. A bright blue tabard covered the dragonrider’s chest and bore the symbol of a red dragon in flight.

The dragon gaped its jaws, and Maj could see the roiling flames twisting up from inside the long throat. But the rider lifted a gloved hand and stilled the beast. In the next instant the dragon heeled over one hundred and eighty degrees.

“Did you see that?” Matt asked excitedly. “That was an aerial U-turn. Don’t lose it.”

“That’s the general idea.” Maj brought the Striper around in a tight turn.

The dragonrider hunched lower over his saddle and glanced back over his shoulder. With the magnification of the forward-looking vid cam, Maj could clearly see the confusion and irritation on the guy’s face. His mouth was locked in a small smile, and behind the steel bandit’s mask of the helm his eyes flashed.

Maj brought up the PA system and placed an outside hail. She spoke clearly into her voice mike. “Who are you?”

Reaching up, the dragonrider took off his helm. His black hair whipped back in the wind. He tried a smile.

“He can hear you,” Matt said. “He just doesn’t seem to understand you.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Online in the Net community was a universal translator program for — more or less — every known human language. Some dialects were still fuzzy, but basic concepts could be communicated easily. Encrypted code sometimes couldn’t be broken, but that was by design. “My name is Maj Green. Who are you?”

The smile on the handsome face lost some of its electricity. He spoke again, but with the same incomprehensible result.

“Uh-oh,” Matt said quietly. “That doesn’t look good.”

Maj swiveled her head forward, spotting the winged shapes fast approaching. They flew in formation like geese, but her intuition told her they were nowhere near as pleasant as geese following some migratory path.

In the next instant she recognized the flying figures as winged demonoids. Before she could draw another breath, they attacked.

“Matt Hunter is a Net Force Explorer.”

Andrea Heavener’s announcement brought a sudden rush of fear that flooded Gaspar Latke’s system with adrenaline. His fear of Net Force was automatic and sprang from years of being an outlaw hacker on the Net.

“No one wants Net Force involved in this,” Heavener declared.

“No,” Gaspar repeated as he plunged through the veeyar to his target. For a moment, though, his mind flirted with the idea of intentionally letting Net Force get information on what they were doing. If Net Force caught him, he’d be arrested and maybe jailed for a time, but he’d be free of the terrors of the last few months.

“Why would Hunter contact Peter?” In the next moment Gaspar opened his eyes, back in the tera’lanth. He felt his wings beat, the huge muscles on his back rippling with effort as he sped through the sky. He searched the horizon ahead and spotted the dragon and the jet.

“He didn’t,” Heavener said flatly. “The connection you found in the hotel was a result of a bleed-over.”

“Impossible,” Gaspar said. “The game version Peter’s testing shouldn’t be capable of that. The effects of the bleed-over are very specific, very localized.”

“People are tracing the outbound computer access line. Peter didn’t make contact with Hunter’s veeyar on purpose.”

As the tera’lanth, Gaspar adjusted his flight and swooped down toward the dragon and the jet. Around him were a hundred other tera’lanth, all in full attack mode. The creatures in this veeyar were highly destructive. And they were all presently under his control because he’d accessed the programming he’d layered into the game’s AI. He divided his forces. Part of them would be a sacrifice, a diversion for Peter Griffen. But the others would destroy the Net Force Explorers.

Maj tried to disengage from the demonoid attack by pulling the stick up and to the right. The jet’s engines screamed as the thrusters kicked into renewed life, pressing them back into the seats.

The demonoids were faster than they looked, streaking through the sky and attacking from the left. Three of the nearest ones dived in at her with folded wings, halting twenty or thirty feet ahead and to the left of the jet in a perfect intercept course. Their wings unfolded, revealing long bone-white quills. Before Maj could adjust her course, the demonoids fired a salvo of quills from their wings.

The quills slammed into the Striper in a long row that stitched the side of the aircraft. Two of them speared through the Plexiglas canopy, imbedding six inches or so with another six inches behind them.

“They’re playing hardball,” Matt croaked.

“Hang on,” Maj warned grimly as she worked the stick. The Striper grabbed air, shoved through the sky by the big engines. She looped and rolled expertly till the Striper’s nose faced the cluster of demonoids again. She lifted the protective cover from the weapons activation switch, then toggled it up. The green READY light came on.

Maj depressed the launch button. Two air-to-air missiles sprang from the wings. The missiles achieved target locks on the creatures’ mass at once, ripping across the distance to impact at the center of the demonoids.

The orange-and-black fireball knocked the creatures from the air, exploding a half-dozen of them.

Even as she completed her rollout, she got another target lock with the air-to-air missiles. She brushed the button and sent another pair streaking forward.

The explosion this time was much closer. With no way to avoid it, Maj flew through the flaming debris left behind. Burning chunks of demonoid bounced from the canopy with distant thuds, barely heard through the helmet. In the next moment she was free of the cloud of attackers.

She craned her head over to the side, glancing back at the attack scene. A group of demonoids had already taken up pursuit, letting her know at a glance that she couldn’t outdistance them. But a second group surrounded the dragon and the dragonrider.

Maj brought the jet around, feeling it stutter in protest as it jammed across conflicting air currents. The target-lock peep sounded again, and she released another pair of missiles, finishing off her heavy payload and leaving her only two thousand rounds of machine gun bullets.

“That was the last of the missiles?” Matt asked with real concern.

“Not for long.” Maj punched a quick selection of icons under the heading CHEAT MENU. “Now we’re more heavily armored and have infinite ammo as well as infinite fuel.” She worked the stick, diving toward the center of the demonoids. Her thumb moved restlessly across the missile launch button, releasing a salvo of missiles that hammered the winged creatures from the sky. Working the stick, she cut power and pulled into a barrel roll that brought her into a sharp approach path to the dragon.

“Look at that guy,” Matt said, pointing.

Maj looked, following the line of her friend’s arm. Incredibly, the dragonrider sat on one folded leg on the saddle, a bow pulled taut before him as he took deliberate aim. When he released, the arrow streaked forward and embedded in the chest of a nearby demonoid. Then it exploded.

“One monster,” Matt said, “extra chunky.”

Maj glanced up through the canopy and saw the phalanx of winged demonoids approaching from the rear. “Is he the target, or are we?” she wondered out loud.

The dragon gaped its jaws and spat a huge fireball into the midst of the attacking demonoids. The flames fanned among the demonoids, blazing merrily as they ate the wings off the creatures’ burning bodies. Wingless demonoids dropped from the air, turning into full-blown comets before they struck even the tops of the forest below.

More demonoids fired quills at the dragon and dragonrider. The quills shattered against the dragon’s scaled hide, but Maj worried about the dragonrider. A sudden blue glow surrounded the dragonrider only an instant before the quills reached him. Unbelievably, the blue glow caught the quills. The dragonrider made another gesture, then the quills shot back at the demonoids.

“He’s got a force field of some kind,” Matt observed.

The dragonrider was already drawing back another arrow when Maj arrived.

She unleashed her arsenal, launching missile after missile as each target lock came up. She kept her field of fire away from the dragon. In seconds the demonoid horde was nearly decimated. The survivors flew away.

“They’re coming down on top of us from behind,” Matt declared.

The dragonrider’s voice drew her attention. This time she drew a circle in the air, bringing up a record-audio function she’d designed in the programming to makes notes to herself.

The dragonrider kept speaking. His face showed concern that was mirrored in his words. He waved a hand, drawing her to him.

Maj juked the stick and swung toward the dragon. Despite her speed, the demonoids behind her closed the distance.

The dragon, urged by its rider, flew toward the approaching jet. The dragonrider waved Maj down.

Pushing the stick forward slightly, Maj dived under the dragon. For an instant the sky was reduced to the alabaster scales of the dragon’s belly.

“Oh, yeah,” Matt said. “And we were thinking we were the cavalry.”

Twisting around in the seat once she had her course safely locked in, Maj watched a massive gout of fire splatter over the demonoid pack. There were few survivors, and they quickly turned tail.

Maj climbed again, cutting back on speed since the threat seemed to be gone. The dragon flapped its bat wings and dropped into the same heading she’d chosen. In seconds the dragonrider was at her side again.

Outside the canopy the dragonrider made a few gestures. A necklace of violet-red links appeared around his throat. He gazed at Maj and asked clearly, “Who are you?”

Excitement flooded through Maj. Communication! There was nothing like communication!

“Griffen has broken through the language inhibitor virus,” Heavener said.

“I know.” Gaspar reached back into his own veeyar and uploaded the power-ups he’d copied from the game. The power-ups were intended as bonuses and prizes for the other players as they worked through the quest levels in the game, but he’d written in additional programming that made them his anytime he wanted.

He reached into the game menu and accessed the enemy programming. At present the game was set on NORMAL play, allowing the destruction of the tera’lanth forces. He activated the AUTOMATIC RESPAWN feature and re-created his army. Instantly, the skies filled with the winged warriors again. Without mercy they descended on the dragon and the jet.

Quills rained destruction down on the jet. Black smoke trailed after the aircraft in clouds. The jet dived, taking advantage of rather than fighting gravity, descending like a striking predator.

Flapping his wings and taking advantage of his power-ups, Gaspar dived after them. He’d spent countless hours in the tera’lanth form, either watching Peter Griffen’s activities and sometimes playing along, or in the version of the game he’d had to work with.

Gaspar followed the gleaming needle shape rocketing above the green sward. He folded his wings, diving into an interception course. He arrived less than a quarter mile directly in front of the jet.

He spread his wings, halting his downward momentum. With his heightened senses, he was aware of the two missiles leaping from the jet’s wings as well as the fireball hurtling from the dragon’s throat.

He unleashed his quill attack from his spread wings an instant before the two missiles slammed into him. The twin concussions hammered him, doubling him over, but the power-ups he’d used left him alive in the game.

Then the quills ripped into the jet. Less than a hundred yards out, silvery bits of metal and Plexiglas flew in all directions, followed by an explosion as the high-octane fuel blew.

“Game over.” Gaspar grinned, but he didn’t have long to enjoy his victory. The dragon’s fireball hit him and burned him to a cinder.

Matt Hunter opened his eyes and instinctively lifted his head from the contact points on the implant chair. He could still feel the detonation that had destroyed the jet and triggered the Net’s automatic log-off safeguard.

He scanned the walls and saw that he was in his own bedroom back in Columbia, Maryland. Questions filled his mind, but mostly he was worried about Maj.

He lay his head back on the implant chair and felt the buzz as contact was made. When he opened his eyes again, he was in his own veeyar.

He floated cross-legged beneath a star-filled sky that gave him a better view of space than most observatories. A comet streaked by overhead, leaving purple phosphorescence twinkling along behind it. In the next moment the comet hit the atmosphere and caught fire, creating a pyrotechnic delight as it burned.

Matt ignored the comet and reached out to the black marble slab in front of him. He punched the inch-high blue icon that opened the computer’s vidphone function. A rectangular screen opened in front of him.

“You have messages,” the computer voice announced.

“Save for later,” Matt commanded. “Open phone database.” He hadn’t memorized the number of the Bessel Mid-Town Hotel where Maj was staying. She’s okay, he told himself desperately.

The rectangle opened with a ripple. “Please state preference.”

“Los Angeles, California. Bessel Mid-Town Hotel. Room five eighteen.” Matt waited, listening to the vidphone ring the other end. His anxiety increased with every ring, but Maj didn’t pick up the vidphone.

Breathing raggedly, Gaspar Latke opened his eyes in the darkness. His heart hammered inside his chest. Too many hours online, he knew, and not nearly enough sleep. A light film of perspiration covered him, chilling him in the air-conditioned room Heavener insisted on keeping just above the frost level.

“They’re out of the veeyar?” the woman asked.

Gaspar held up a trembling hand, observing the quivering fingers with bright interest. The fireball had been so big and so real. He had to give Peter that. Gaspar hadn’t been hit by a fireball in the game in months. Losing wasn’t an experience he liked to repeat. “Yes.”

“The veeyar overlap happened in the hotel,” Heavener said.

“It had to,” Gaspar said irritably. Everyone knew that the game’s programming only affected local computer systems.

“We want you back online. We want her computer scrubbed.”

“Scrub it if you want,” Gaspar said, “but she’ll still talk.”

“No,” Heavener said calmly, “she won’t. We have people on-site there.”

A chill even stronger than the air-conditioning filled Gaspar. He knew D’Arnot Industries had no qualms about killing, but he’d never been part of it himself.

“Find her,” Heavener commanded, “and scrub any archived computer files she may have saved online.”

Gaspar reluctantly pushed himself from the implant chair. As soon as he tried to stand, his knees buckled, refusing to take his weight. A fresh wave of perspiration covered him as he caught himself on his hands, just saving him from hitting the floor with his face.

Heavener cursed and crossed the room immediately. She grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his feet. “Don’t give up on me now, you little piece of feek.”

Gaspar felt hot tears filling his eyes. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so close to total exhaustion. The last few days he wasn’t sure if he’d slept or not. D’Arnot Industries had wanted him pulling twenty-four-hour surveillance on Peter on the Net, and Peter worked incredible hours. But Peter Griffen was healthy and didn’t have other assignments that D’Arnot Industries wanted from him.

Heavener dragged Gaspar to the other implant chair and unceremoniously threw him into it. “Get online. Find the girl and scrub her computer.”

Gaspar’s stomach rolled sickeningly. He retched, but only a thin, sour drool leaked down his beard-stubbled chin.

“Latke,” Heavener barked, “now! We don’t have time to waste!”

Raking the sour drool from his chin with the back of his arm, Gaspar lay back in the lineup chair. His implants touched the laser beam connectors. He felt the familiar buzz, started to enter his veeyar, but saw the cluttered room suddenly fade away before he could seat himself at the desk. He tried twice more, but each time the veeyar faded away.

Heavener stood at his side. “What’s wrong?”

With a quivering hand, Gaspar pointed out the chair’s vital signs readout. “My current level of anxiety, stress, and health are dangerous. The chair won’t allow me on the Net until my vitals are within the tolerance limits.”

“Then we’ll beat the vital signs readout.” Heavener took a slim case that Gaspar had never seen from her pocket. She opened it, revealing three slim hypodermics neatly held inside. She took one of them from the case, popped the protective sleeve covering the needle, then depressed the plunger to make sure there was no air inside.

“No!” Gaspar croaked.

Heavener popped him in the throat with her elbow, causing him to gag. “Lie down.”

Hypnotized by the hypodermic, Gaspar grabbed the arm holding him down but wasn’t able to leverage her off him. She forced him back into the implant chair and the automatic formfit feature kicked in, shrinking the chair around him. The pip-pip-pip of the vital signs rejection echoed in the big room.

“No,” he gasped. “Please.”

Heavener’s cold, amber cat’s eyes shone as she looked into his. “You’re alive only as long as you remain useful. You’d do well to remember that.” Her hand flashed forward, and he felt the needle pierce the side of his neck.

A warm lassitude drifted through Gaspar’s body. In seconds he felt removed from his body, even more distant than going online left him.

But inside he was still screaming.

The pip-pip-pip rejection from the implant chair slowed, then quit.

“Find the girl,” Heavener commanded harshly over the audlink. “Find the girl or no one will ever find you.”

“Sure,” Gaspar replied. He didn’t care. She didn’t matter to him. Nothing did. He was on the Net, and for the moment he was as free as he ever got. Seated behind the desk in the cluttered room of his veeyar, he launched himself onto the Net and streaked for the Bessel Mid-Town Hotel.