Massively Multiplayer (31 page)

“I grew up in Israel,” she explained. “You have to develop a sense of humor there or they boot you out at age thirteen.”

“Hah. Don’t let her kindly old woman act fool you either, Druin,” Ghostmaker warned him. “She’s an initiate of the Ebony Mageguild, and she practically commands the Essenian Army. But you already knew that, of course.”

Druin nodded in what he hoped was a reassuring manner while wondering what the Essenian Army was. Or the Ebony Mageguild, for that matter.

Altogether, they were a strange gathering: a walking weapon shop, a spooky Asian princess, a guy with a sharp sword and apparently no sense of humor, and someone’s grandmother. And Malcolm, of course. It was enough to make Druin feel downright common.

“Is this all you’re expecting?” Druin asked.

Ghostmaker nodded. “I was told there would be five. With your serving man Malcolm, technically that’s six. The rest of us would have brought our own retainers if we’d known we could...”

“Whoah, just a second there. Malcolm’s not my servant. I don’t have any servants. What makes you think I could afford servants?”

Ghostmaker blinked in surprise, then looked him over carefully for the first time. Out of the corner of his eye, Druin could see that Rajah and Princess Butterfly, at least, were eyeing him skeptically as well.

“Wait a minute. What circle did you say you were?”

“Uh, I didn’t,” admitted Druin. “Sixth.”

There was a general gasping and raising of eyebrows.

“But my dear child,” the woman called Dinah said, clearly trying her best to maintain her grandmotherly front, “there must be some mistake. We were called here by a Catalyst, for an epic-level Quest. It is, I’m certain, a matter of some importance...such contacts always are.” She laughed politely, but nobody seemed inclined to join in.

“I didn’t even see a Catalyst close up until I had reached the tenth circle,” said Rajah, clearly proud of the fact. “It would be unheard of for a...well, for a common player to be involved in such an event.”

“This Catalyst,” Druin asked carefully, “shadowy guy, covered in flames, voice like a basket of sandpaper?”

Rajah nodded uncomfortably.

“That’s the guy. Look, I know this is weird, but it looks like I got sent here by the same guy who called you all up. Maybe we should see what’s going on.” Druin turned to Ghostmaker. “Just what, precisely,
is
going on?”

“We don’t quite know,” Ghostmaker shrugged. “We were hoping you could tell us that.”

“So how is Marcus Tenser a threat to national security?” Wolfgang asked.

“We were hoping you could tell us that,” said the woman who had been introduced as Ms. Sumter. “We’ve been interested in Mr. Tenser’s whereabouts for about four years now. We were very excited when an anonymous tip alerted us to his intrusion into your system.”

“Lieutenant Tenser,” said one of the men from military intelligence.

“Lieutenant?”

“Mr. Tenser still holds a commission in the Army Reserve,” explained the other man. “Technically, he is still under our jurisdiction.”

“
Our
joint jurisdiction,” Ms. Sumter corrected smoothly. The military men frowned.

“But what has he done?” Wolfgang pressed.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing yet. Lieutenant...Mr. Tenser resigned his commission—“

“That resignation was never accepted,” one of the military men interjected.

“—in the middle of a sensitive project involving national security interests.”

“I’m still confused,” Wolfgang said. “How can I tell you what threat he poses if I don’t know what he’s threatening you with?”

The government agents exchanged glances. It was Blanks who broke the silence.

“Mr. Tenser was involved in designing virtual environments for a psychological operations division of the Pentagon. He was charged with translating real-world geopolitical environments into virtual terms, in order to provide pre-mission briefing simulations for prospective covert operations.”

“Spies,” Marybeth translated. “He was making training programs for spies.”

“That is essentially correct,” Blanks acknowledged.

“I can see why you wanted Marcus, then,” said Wolfgang. “There probably isn’t anyone in the world better prepared for that kind of programming. He was always talking about the need for realistic psychological modeling being reflected in the gaming environment...”

“Just so. Mr. Tenser actually volunteered for the duty when we offered him the position, and he seemed very enthusiastic about the project.”

“Until?” Marybeth prompted.

“Until we discovered he was hacking us on the side,” Ms. Sumter said. “In order to create the most realistic simulations he could, Mr. Sumter demanded and received access to extremely classified data and systems.” She favored the military men with an accusing glance. “At some point in his research, he apparently went well beyond the scope of his assignment, and began tapping into resources throughout the national security network. Then he disappeared.”

“When was all this?” Bernardo asked in a small, sick voice.

“About three years ago. He forwarded a copy of his resignation to the desk of his CO, wiped his computer’s files, and took off. We’ve been looking for him since then.”

“But why?” Wolfgang persisted. “What kind of data did he actually get hold of? You don’t store nuclear access codes on computers any hacker could crack. Do you?”

“No,” one of the military men admitted grudgingly. “But we have reason to believe that Lieutenant Tenser may have accessed sensitive information about our global operations. We don’t know quite what he took with him, or what caused him to leave. That’s one reason we want to talk to him.”

“Well I don’t know if I can help,” Wolfgang shrugged. “He hasn’t done anything on the Archimago computers except, apparently, run a little game of his own on the side. There’s been no significant outbound data stream, and we’ve been looking for one ever since we suspected we’d been hacked by data smugglers. We still don’t know quite what he’s up to, but it doesn’t seem to be related to national security.”

“Everything is related, Wolf. I thought I’d taught you that lesson.”

A shape blossomed in the holographic display over he center of the conference table, though Wolfgang and Marybeth, at least, wouldn’t have needed the flaming spectral image to recognize the speaker.

“Good morning Wolf, Marybeth. Good morning Mr. Blanks, Mr. Hamilton, Mr. Verner, Ms. Sumter. And a very good morning to you, Mr. Calloway, my esteemed host.”

In a proper movie, Wolfgang thought later, someone should have pointed at the gleaming image and asked “Why, who can that be?” or perhaps raised an accusing finger to point out “why, it’s Marcus Tenser himself!” However, this was a room full of intelligent people, all of whom had immediately figured out the identity of their mysterious interloper. The only noteworthy reactions were those of the Pentagon specialists, who snapped open small personal computers to record the scene, and that of Bernardo Calloway, who winced and raised his hands defensively, as though being named somehow made him culpable in Tenser’s crimes, whatever those might turn out to be.

“I must apologize for the intrusion, but I thought you’d want to see this.”

The figure reached down (
he’s accessing a keyboard outside the holographic frame
, Wolfgang thought) and then faded from existence.

The tabletop display immediately brightened to display a gloomy taproom with small windows framed in what looked like rough stone. A number of figures were arguing around a small table. Wolfgang recognized Druin Reaver as the one who looked like the focus of the hostility.

Chapter Fourteen – Twenty Questions

“What do you mean you don’t know? You
have
to know!”

“Why me?” Druin raised his hands defensively.

“Because you are the last of our company, Mr. Reaver,” the Princess Butterfly explained. “Each of us was told that we must come to this place, at this time, as were you. It was anticipated that the arrival of our mysterious sixth associate would precipitate our next maneuver.”

“As indeed it shall, Lady.”

To the rising tone of the same chant Druin had heard before, the flaming apparition materialized in the middle of the taproom. The light streaming from the ethereal form did nothing to alleviate the drabness of the room’s decor. If anything, it made it worse.

But no-one was paying attention to the furnishings; all eyes were on the phantom caller.

“Well done, my chosen. You have completed the first leg of your test.”

“Have we now,” Ghostmaker challenged. “And how’s that then?”

“You have assembled yourselves here, at the appointed hour. This demonstrates resolution, boldness, and careful attention...all necessary elements of a champion. The remainder of your task, however, will prove more challenging.”

“And more rewarding, I hope,” Rajah muttered.

“We have come as you asked, spirit,” intoned Dinah regally. Druin bet she got extra icy points on a regular basis. “We have demonstrated trust, to abandon our many commitments on the basis of a vision of unknown provenance. Has not the time come to reveal your identity, and your purpose? And to make clear the nature of the boon you seek?”

The phantom inclined its head. “You speak truly, Lady, and more truly than you know. A spirit you name me, and a spirit only am I. But I am not the spirit of one dead. No ghost or shade of one slain. Never was I the animator of a single man or woman.”

It spread wide its arms, blazing again as the chorus of whispers swelled beneath its wispy voice. “That which you see is the manifestation of an ideal, and I bear to you the essence of a dream long lost. Harken! In a time before your reckoning, the nations of the world were split by war. Each realm thought only of its own benefit, of its own people and the expansion of its holdings, and the ruin of all others. It was an age of conflict and affliction.”

“How is that any different than what we have now?” Ghostmaker whispered to Rajah.

“You speak truth, Lord,” said the spirit, demonstrating excellent hearing. “But one came who would have taught the nations a new way. A sage he was, a learned man, with a mind like a gem so brilliantly polished that it reflected a world not as it was, but as it might be. His name is lost to the mists of time, but he was called ‘Mender’ by those who came to follow him, for his gift was one which promised to heal the great rifts between the many lands. So great was his learning that he might have become a mighty King and compelled the nations to dwell in harmony, but he saw that a peace maintained only by threat of destruction was no peace at all. Instead, he created him a tiny island, a miniature of the world, and selected a handful from each nation to dwell therein. There he thought that he might study the ways of each realm, and they might teach themselves to dwell in peace, forever.”

“But....” said Druin, who could tell a good setup when he heard one.

“Alas, the world proved too bent on war for Mender’s vision to prove out. Some of the wizards and princes of the world saw that Mender’s influence was great, and they coveted his power for their own. They feared his teachings, for their own power was built on fear, and the knew that if Mender succeeded in his quest, they would no longer be able to command the obedience of their subjects with threats of war and destruction. They plotted long, and bribed the sage’s servants, who were weak and greedy, and when all was in readiness, they stole into the sage’s holdings and destroyed him. His miniature world they remade to be like their own, filled with hatred and war, so that it too was consumed in the flames which burnt up the world.”

“And we are to recover this sage’s artifacts?” guessed Rajah. “Or complete his experiment?”

“No, Lord, for they are lost to time. The sage had erred – in truth, there could be no peace. War is the nature of nations, and until such a time comes as nations are no longer, they will command the powers of scholar, sage, wizard, knight, vassal, down to the meanest peasant...all in the name of their quest for dominance. Nay, your quest is merely to lay the spirit of the sage to rest. For too long has his dreaming self despaired, and now it is time for that dream to finally end itself. I am the last remnant of that dream, and I will show you the way to unmake his work.”

“And what rewards await us if we assist you in this task?” asked Princess Butterfly.

“You shall be satisfied,” the spirit answered simply. “Mender’s wealth was vast. But even greater were the magical items he amassed in his efforts to understand the nature of the powers arrayed against the cause of peace. Over the course of time, he stockpiled a great many powerful weapons – weapons now forbidden, for so great was their power that they might have shattered the world. These must be destroyed for the Mender’s spirit to finally rest. I am his last disciple. You are my chosen instruments.”

“And what happens if we don’t?” Druin asked hesitantly.

The spirit regarded him coolly. “Then will the enemies of peace have truly won. The vaults of the Mender will be thrown open and their knowledge – and their fortunes, and their weapons – will be available to wreak havoc upon the world.”

The group exchanged glances. “And that’s bad, is it?” Ghostmaker asked finally. “Right then. Sign us up.”

“Very well. Let us prepare.”

“Right! Someone tell me what the hell is going on here!” Bernardo cried in a voice that was rather more whining than commanding.

“It would appear that Mr. Tenser is setting up some sort of confrontation in your game, and wants us to witness it,” said Blanks mildly.

“But why, Marcus?” Wolfgang begged. “Why are you doing this, and why in this way? If you’d wanted to return to the company, you only had to ask.”

“You’re not paying attention, Wolf,” the ghost explained patiently. “In the first place, if I’d surfaced that publicly, I would have been renewing my acquaintance with the Department of Defense a little bit sooner than I’m ready to. In the second place, you are under new management – what makes you think they’d want an old guard messing with their...innovative…plans for the Crucible system?”