Duel Identity

by Tom Clancy

  “From what I hear, it sort of slurps around system defenses, infiltrating right into the security programming and opening things up. Sort of a trapdoor program, except it opens the front door for you.”

  Leif nodded. “All I can say is, it made my security look like Swiss cheese.”

  “That sounds good enough for me,” David said definitely. “Any drawbacks?”

  “It can be slow.”

  David made a “who cares?” gesture. “Hey, we’ve got an extra hour.”

  Leif insisted on waiting until it was six o’clock before they began their attack.

  “You’re sure he’s gone?” David teased. “Just our luck, he’d come down with stomach flu and be using his system to watch a holo sitcom.”

  “Oh, he’ll be gone, all right.” Leif was grimly confident. “Alan’s got a big deal going on tonight. Sergei told me all about it. Besides the fencing class, there’s a whole bunch of Latvinia role-players going to the salle tonight, to see how this sword-fighting thing really works. Our pals von Esbach and Vojak -will be in attendance-not to mention P. J. Farris.”

  “Full house.” David laughed.

  “And you can be sure Mr. Slaney will be there, right at center stage.”

  Off in the living room an antique clock chimed the hour. “It’s time,” Leif said.

  A new set of orders to his computer, and they were out of his virtual workspace, bouncing almost at random through the Net. The idea, David knew, was to lay as confusing a trail as possible between this computer and wherever they were going to launch the hacking program. If their attempt to break in was noticed, it should be impossible to trace it back to here.

  The images on the display seemed to spin and swoop, making David wish he hadn’t been quite so enthusiastic at dinner. At last they stopped in a grayish blank space.

  “This used to be long-term storage-coincidentally enough, it’s in one of the computers in the building where Alan works,” Leif announced with a grin.

  “We’re lucky he didn’t decide to expand Latvinia and erase your little hidey-hole,” David shot back.

  “Anyway…” Leif gave a few more orders, and the Amorph blob popped into existence in the middle of the dust-gray floor. Looking at a piece of paper, Leif recited a long Net address string. The Amorph icon faded from sight.

  “I won’t ask how you got that,” David said. “Now are you going to burn it, or eat it?”

  “Let’s leave it for later,” Leif said, “when we know whether or not we get in there.”

  They sat in silence, watching the dead boring image of a drab, empty room. David yawned and stretched. He rocked back and forth in his seat, wondering if there was time for a bathroom break before Amorph opened the way up for them. He glanced over at Leif.

  “I told you this program takes its time,” Leif defended himself.

  “I know,” David said. “That’s the difference between what you see on the holovids and reality. Now I’m just wondering if we’re missing out on any good holo shows while we wait.”

  At long last a portal of sorts began constructing itself in the inactive storage space. The empty doorway was the same sickly greenish-white as the Amorph amoeba.

  “Looks like we’re in,” Leif announced.

  “My turn now,” David said. He called up his virtual bag of tricks, and gave the order to proceed. Leif had already programmed his system to respond to David’s voice commands. They went through the portal, and found themselves in a disturbingly familiar room. It was the study/library from the palace in Latvinia-just multiplied by about twenty times. There was a ton of stuff filed away in here.

  “Good luck,” Leif muttered.

  David pretended not to hear. He began deploying his weapons-directory crunchers, an internal searchbot program, even a file-viewing utility-and set to work.

  After a long while David leaned back, listening to his neck crack. The more he’d wormed his way through Slaney’s system, the farther and farther he’d hunched forward. “What’s our time look like?”

  “You’ve been grinding away in there for about an hour and a half,” Leif replied. “Amorph took about forty-five minutes to get us in. We’ve still got about two hours. What have you got?”

  “Not much,” David admitted unhappily. “I’ve found bits and pieces of the Latvinia program, but he’s not running the sim from this system-it just doesn’t have the juice.”

  ‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Leif asked. “A simple- minded computer means less stuff to be found.”

  “Yes-and no,” David replied. “I keep coming across archived information files-stuff that’s been downloaded from the Net, compressed, and stuck in storage. It may all be garbage-handy tips on how to build your own world.”

  “We knew he’d been downloading a lot of stuff on that,” Leif agreed. “On the other hand, this archived stuff could turn out to be his private journals from the time he was eight.”

  David nodded. “It just takes time to uncompress files, read ‘em, and make a decision about whether or not they’re useful for our purposes. We could be pawing around until midnight.”

  “Or?” Leif asked.

  “We could copy it all-download it, and then paw around in your space until midnight.”

  “Could we fit it in the corporate storage we-um- borrowed?” Leif asked.

  David nodded.

  “Okay. Let’s do that. Then we can both paw.”

  The download went quickly enough. While that happened, David checked to make sure he’d left no traces of his presence. “We probably should cover our tracks. Otherwise, isn’t Slaney going to notice that his security has been neutralized?”

  “I’ll take care of that,” Leif said, “after you leave.”

  David pulled out, and Leif began issuing commands. The phosphorescent portal collapsed in on itself. “Now Amorph will just disentangle itself,” Leif announced. “When it’s through, we’ll just have that shapeless little icon sitting on my shelf in my home space again.” He gave another order, and a duplicate viewing station to the one Leif had set up for himself popped out of the wall. “That side okay for you?” he asked, pointing to it.

  “Fine,” David said. He plunged into the archives they’d acquired, bursting out one document from every folder. Then he hit one section that caught his interest. David decompressed document after document, growing more and more worried as he read. He was so immersed, he didn’t even notice Leif come over and give him a shake. Then he realized his friend had been calling his name.

  Leif peered at the holotext. “When I have to go that far to get someone’s attention, it’s usually because they’ve discovered a set of naughty image downloads,” he teased. “I was just going to tell you that the Amorph icon turned up-we’re out clean. But now I wonder what’s gotten your attention.” He wrinkled his nose. “All I’ve turned up is recipe files for creating more realistic sims.”

  “Yeah, there are a lot of those,” David said, tearing himself away from the display. “This stuff is more theoretical … but a lot more worrisome. You know how hackers sometimes joke about forbidden subjects? That’s what this stuff is: ‘how-to’ diagrams on circumventing safety protocols when creating an off-Net virtual reality. Programming tips on giving you absolute control of the virtual environment while in veeyar. Reports on experiments to disembody human intelligence and port it onto the Net-”

  “The old ‘ghost in the machine’ thing, huh?” Leif looked slightly scornful. “That’s like the old-time alchemists trying to turn lead into gold. As far as I know, nobody’s ever succeeded.”

  “Yeah-what worries me, though, is seeing all this stuff archived in one place. Put it together, and you’ve got a guy who doesn’t want to be a ghost in the machine. He wants to be the disembodied supreme being of his own little universe.”

  “The god of Latvinia,” Leif finished, a worried expression coming over his features. “What happens to the beta-testers when he tries this transformation?”

  “I don
’t know-but I don’t like this file I’ve been reading. It comments on the possibility of disembodying one or more persons to come along essentially as subroutines in this private universe.”

  “Who would agree to that?” Leif asked in disbelief.

  ‘This stuff doesn’t necessarily talk about bringing them along willingly,” David replied. “It just discusses the need for random interaction in the new environment.”

  “Translated, even people with a god complex might get lonely once they’ve been reduced to electrons.” He shook his head. “But this is plain science-fiction-no, fantasy.”

  “I wish that were true,” David said. “Not many people know it, but there have been experiments in disembodiment. The results-well, the experiments themselves have been hushed up. But I don’t think they could have been promising.”

  He turned troubled eyes to Leif. “Alan may be clever, but I don’t think he’s clever enough to pull this off. If the rumors are right, every researcher who has ever tried this has either ended up with severe neurological damage”-he hesitated-“or dead.”

  Chapter 18

  “Dead?” Are you sure?”

  David nodded.

  “But this is all just theory and rumors,” Leif pointed out to David. “It could be dead-end research. A lot of people read about stuff and never do it. A friend of my dad got the plans for the Bell Jet Pack off the old Internet in the 1990s. Every time he upgrades to a new computer, that file has come along. He even talks about building the crazy thing-someday. My dad has a bet with me that he never will.”

  David was back looking at the contents of the folder, running very quickly through the holotext. “Did your father’s friend actually order the parts for the jet pack?” he suddenly asked.

  “Uh, no. It’s never gone that far,” Leif said.

  “Because that’s what Alan Slaney has done. I just found the files. I wonder if he was getting bargains for buying components in bulk. I figure he’s got about ten times as much stuff as he actually needs to disembody himself.”

  “Ten times?” Leif echoed, his face going pale. “I guess Megan never told you-or you just sort of tuned it out whenever she went on about her fencing. The salle where Slaney works-students don’t just do physical workouts. They train on specialized computer couches. They’ve got a back room full of those computer-link couches, nonstandard types that instill reflex responses in the nerves and muscles.”

  David abruptly swung away from the display. “Any idea how many?” he asked.

  “I don’t know that Megan ever spelled it out.” Leif’s voice sounded hoarse as he forced those words though his suddenly tight throat. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if it was somewhere around ten.”

  The holotext now ran on unheeded as David stared at Leif. “Please tell me that the person who does the maintenance on them isn’t who I think it is.”

  “Oh, no,” Leif said bitterly. “It’s none other than our smiling maintenance man himself. Alan checks them out personally every time anybody uses one, as well as calibrating them and keeping them in working order.” Icy hands seemed to have invaded Leif’s stomach and chest, clutching the organs inside with a chilly grip. He found himself fighting for breath. “And tonight is the big demonstration. The salle will be full of Latvinia role- players-both the fencing students and the people who were invited to observe.”

  “A very select guest list,” David said suddenly. “You notice we weren’t invited.”

  “At the time I just thought Megan was PO’ed at us,”

  Leif admitted. “But what if it was Slaney-oh, no! Tell me I’m wrong here. Do you think he’s going to try something tonight?”

  “He could have gimmicked all those couches so they’re running, not into the Net, but into his own personal computer-programmed with a very personal reality.” Leif could see David was struggling to keep calm as he described the situation. David was also failing. “No Net, no safeguards, and they’d all be helpless while he does whatever he thinks he needs to do to suck them permanently into the sim.”

  “Do you think a-I don’t know what else to call it but a soul-could survive in cyberspace?” Leif asked.

  “I can only repeat the rumors I’ve heard. No one has ever been contacted by any of the people who intentionally disembodied themselves,” David said quietly. “Whatever happens, as far as we’d know, those people would be dead.”

  “The time!” Leif cried, glancing at his watch. “It’s almost ten-the end of the class! Alan’s demo is scheduled to start right afterward.” He sprang to the computer, shouting orders that immediately cleared the display. “We’ve got to call Megan!” he said desperately. “We’ve got to get her out of there!”

  Inside the salle Megan removed her mask and toweled her face dry. It had been a good evening, an interesting class and an especially long set of bouting sessions. She’d done well against people at her own level of skill, and even given a couple of more experienced fencers, including Sergei, a run for their money.

  Turning to the bench running along one wall of the training area, she grinned at P. J. Farris.

  “I begin to see why you and Leif enjoy this stuff so much,” P. J. said. “Part of it is like a deadly dance, but it’s obvious you’ve got to think out every move.”

  Megan laughed. “Somebody once described it as full- contact chess.”

  “I also saw how good Alan is with those pig-stickers,” P. J. went on. “We’ll face an uphill fight if we’ve got to take him on in Latvinia hand-to-hand.”

  “All too true,” the man sitting next to P. J. agreed. Megan looked at him, and her eyes went wide. Add about fifteen years, and a pair of big, fluffy sideburns-

  “Joe Brodsky,” the oddly familiar stranger said, shaking hands. “By day, a lowly worker in the Council for Public Policy. On lunch hours and by night, however, you know me as the Graf von Esbach.” He laughed at himself. “Veeyar is about the only way I could hope to reach high political office.”

  He turned to the guy sitting beside him, a tight-faced, balding guy who looked as if he should have a monocle in place. The second man cracked a smile, however, and introduced himself. “Walt Jaeckel, formerly a Navy Shore Patrolman, now a postal investigator. Or if you prefer”-he clicked his heels together and bowed- “Colonel Vojak, at your service.”

  “So, what did you think of the show?” Megan asked.

  “Made me jealous,” Brodsky said. “I was a fencer in college. This was a lot more-graceful, I guess. Less bloodthirsty. Definitely a lot less arguing than I remember.”

  Jaekel nodded. “Not at all like the slugfests you see on the Olympic coverage-if you stay up till about 2:00 A. M.”

  Alan Slaney walked in front of the group. “Thanks, everyone, for coming to visit tonight,” he said. Something was wrong. To Megan’s eyes, his smile seemed a little too broad-and a little too pasted-on.

  He’s trying way too hard, she thought, taking in the bags under his eyes-they looked more like bruises. Poor guy must be running on caffeine.

  “I have a suggestion,” Alan went on. “All you guys are involved in the same part of the Latvinian adventure. Rather than doing the demo I’d talked about, since we’re all here, why not finish up our current beta-test adventure in Latvinia in one mass session?”

  “The practice simulators in the back room!” Megan exclaimed. “What a great idea!”

  She turned to P. J., who shrugged.

  “I’ve got nothing big going on in the morning,” he said.

  Jaeckel laughed. “Nothing ahead for me except another day at work. Besides, if we finish up, Alan may get some sleep tomorrow-and he won’t badger us to come in and play.”

  Alan’s lips tightened a little in reaction to that crack. Then he laughed. “Guess I’m guilty on that one, Walt. What do the rest of you say?”

  It didn’t take much more persuading to convince the others to join in. Alan led the way to the rear of the salle, heading for the room filled with practice equipment, fencing memorabilia, an
d the computer-link chairs.

  “Everybody set?” Alan asked as Megan and the others reclined on their couches. She closed her eyes … and opened them to nearly complete darkness. This wasn’t at all like her usual entrances to Latvinia. Megan bit her lips to keep from crying aloud at the claustrophobic feeling. Had something gone terribly wrong with her Net connection?

  Then she realized her hands were clutching something. It was a steering wheel-the steering wheel of the Mercedes Simplex! Megan was crouched in the right- hand driver’s seat. As her eyes adjusted and she keyed into the sounds around her, she could tell she was outside, and that the night was dark, moonless. She could only see by the faint light of the stars. But she began to make out what was going on. A squad of men-big, burly cavalry troopers-was pushing the car into position.

  She looked up and, silhouetted against the stars, saw the square bulk of the old watchtower.

  “All right,” P. J.‘s voice whispered, “you’ve got ‘er lined up.”

  He had to kneel to get the starting crank inserted, reaching under the metal ram they’d attached to the front of the car. It was a pointed chunk of steel that reminded Megan of snowplows she’d seen. Except of course, that it was a couple of feet above the ground.

  “Ready?” P. J. whispered.

  She set the ignition, and he began to crank.

  Just one favor, Megan thought, as she silently pleaded with the Fates. No backfires tonight.

  The flywheel began its muted rumble as figures piled into the rear of the car. The Graf von Esbach had insisted on joining them, as had Colonel Vojak. Sergei was on board as well. Behind them, ready to charge in once they’d dealt with the door, was a squadron of cavalry.

  P. J. swung into the front seat. “Go, go, go, go!” he commanded in a tense whisper. Megan threw the car into gear, and the car shot into motion. They flew downhill, probably coming close to the forty-seven miles an hour the engine was rated for. Megan shifted again as they encountered the upward incline.

  As long as / don’t turn us over, she thought, fighting to control the wheel as they bounced and shuddered up the rutted road.