Armchair Safari (A Cybercrime Technothriller)

by Jonathan Paul Isaacs

  Krystian guided his character to the inner keep. He passed through the now-destroyed entry and soon was in a grand receiving chamber lined with rich tapestries and ornate woodwork along the edges. Without warning, another column of armed troops shuffled around the corner and charged him. These soldiers were the inner guard—more seasoned, more experienced, and no doubt more expensive to hire. Gareth commanded his Kenzen to engage and they burst into action. There was going to be a fight here. Krystian smiled again.

  Gareth loosened his sword arm again and the guards were instantly upon him. The soldiers each had swords as well, and two moved to surround him while the rest went after the Kenzen. Krystian recognized their tactics. As soon as the first soldier attacked him to draw his attention, the other would surge from Gareth’s flank and inflict potentially fatal damage from behind.

  For a lesser opponent, such well-trained and expensive troops who knew maneuvers like this would have probably won.

  Not here, thought Krystian.

  The attack came. Krystian moved his mouse deftly in conjunction with the keys on his keyboard to coordinate blocking and attacking of the various feints and real blows. Gareth quickly rolled to the left and, in a lightning flash, stabbed his sword up into the first guard’s right armpit. Krystian sneered with glee as the point of his blade emerged out his enemy’s shoulder. The soldier’s knees buckled and he filled the inner chamber of the keep with a deathly howl. Gareth quickly pulled his sword back out and chopped the soldier’s leg clean off so that he fell into a jumbled heap. Then he wheeled around to face the other guard.

  He was too slow. His parry timing was off and the guard brought his sword roughly across Gareth’s midsection, piercing his side where the cuirass didn’t protect him.

  “Fuck!”

  A flash of panic hit Krystian. Quickly checking his stats on the HUD indicator, he saw his Stamina dropping steadily even though the blow was over and Gareth was back into full defensive posture. He was bleeding. Bleeding was a dangerous side effect of slashing weapons and kept inflicting damage long after the wound was made. Luckily, Gareth had tons of Stamina. Krystian quickly counterattacked and, after six or seven lightning fast attempts, finally connected with flesh and cleaved the sword arm of the guard off. A geyser of blood sprayed against the stone wall as the soldier collapsed. Krystian made Gareth step back and resume the parry position to defend himself.

  He looked around and found his two Kenzen patiently waiting on the other side of the entry chamber. They had won their respective battles and were just standing there.

  “Nice of you to help me, you fucking idiots,” Gareth said, repeating what Krystian had growled into his microphone.

  No more defenders came. Perhaps that was all there were for now. Gareth instructed the Kenzen to start searching the first level for clues as to where the treasure vault was to be found. Meanwhile, he waited in the receiving chamber and bandaged the wound on his side to stop the effects of bleeding. His Stamina was down by a quarter. That was unsettling. Krystian pondered how much more money he would want to load into his vault as he watched the Kenzen rummage around for clues. He could have joined the search as well but he really didn’t want to become trap fodder. Just because the guards were all dispatched didn’t mean that the interior of the keep was safe.

  A loud rumble followed by a shrieking howl confirmed that fact. Gareth dashed toward one of the adjacent hallways and instantly saw how a section of the side wall had sprung out from the edge like a giant piston, smashing the Kenzen against the opposite wall. The Kenzen was alive, but wriggling helplessly as it snarled in pain.

  “Point Man’s Folly. Sneaky,” observed Krystian, admiring the trap. Now he had to get the Kenzen free, or he’d never have enough manpower to carry any treasure out once they actually did find the vault.

  The beauty about the Point Man’s Folly trap was that it didn’t just do damage. It held the intruder there in place, alive or dead, until the owner released it. Quite a nasty surprise if it actually caught the adventurer himself—depending on circumstances, some players had been known to take their own life after days or weeks of limbo and respawn back in their stronghold so that they could at least get on with adventuring. That was not the case here, but it did take some significant leverage from a discarded pole arm and the combined strength of Gareth, a strength potion, and the remaining Kenzen to get the first Kenzen released. When he finally got the beast free, it loped over to the side wall and began nursing its injuries.

  Krystian leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment. He launched a browser window on one of his other monitors and quickly navigated to a chat room to check a hunch.

  “How much does a Point Man’s Folly cost in Safari?” he typed.

  The question went into the swirl of gamers, hackers, and other basement-dwellers that populated this particular online exchange. Finally, someone answered.

  Purple_Monkey: About five hundred crowns.

  Krystian nodded to himself. That’s it, he thought. That was about thirty-seven, maybe forty euros. Not cheap for a trap. That corridor must be protecting something behind it.

  Leaving the Kenzen at the entry to that same corridor, Gareth went back into the receiving hall and found a free-standing candle holder about five feet tall and made of sturdy iron. He gestured for the Kenzen to follow him as he proceeded back down the trapped hall. The Point Man’s Folly was still propped open by the halberd, which seemed to be holding well enough, thank goodness, and Gareth stepped gingerly past it until he was in the corridor beyond. When the Kenzen were on the other side as well, Gareth lowered the candle holder in front of him until it touched the floor. He proceeded to walk forward, letting it scrape along the stone corridor to probe for any more trap triggers or other nasty surprises.

  The passage continued about thirty feet and then turned left. As soon as Gareth rounded the corner, he found the next obstacle. Very suddenly.

  A large metal blade as wide as the corridor shot down from the ceiling and chopped the end of the candlestick off, sending vibrations up the metal pole and straight through Gareth’s arm. Krystian jumped in his chair, it had happened so unexpectedly. If not for the candlestick, Gareth surely would have been dead.

  “I’m definitely on the right trail,” he said aloud.

  The corridor extended another ten feet and ended in a staircase going up to the next level. With the Chop Shop trap sprung, Gareth now sent the wounded Kenzen up first, followed by the healthy one and with himself bringing up the rear. They reached the top of the stairs and found themselves on a landing. Across from Gareth was a well-armed knight standing in front of a large, sturdy door reinforced with iron bands. He was armed with a curved sword in each hand.

  “Ho, ho!” said Gareth. “I think I’ve finally found the person who’s going to donate to my cause. Nice to see that you’re home.”

  “Turn around now and you can leave while you’re still alive,” growled the knight in a deep voice that had a slight Hispanic accent.

  Krystian was giddy in front of his computer. He loved it when he got to do real player-versus-player combat. When an opponent was logged off and Safari’s artificial intelligence was responsible for handling any necessary defense, the fight simply wasn’t as enjoyable. There just wasn’t that same sense of killing someone on the other side of the computer.

  “Take him,” hissed Gareth to his Kenzen.

  Again, the beasts leapt forward. The wounded monster got there first and had the privilege of dying as a result. The knight whirled around like a top and hewed the Kenzen’s head and leg off in a single motion. Gareth moved to the right while the remaining healthy Kenzen approached from the knight’s left side. The knight, or rather the player behind the knight, clearly had some skill, as he moved along the walls of the room to keep Gareth from flanking him. Gareth feinted twice and then swung in earnest, parrying and thrusting with the knight who counterattacked in turn.

  After multiple tricks, turns, and epic exchanges, the critic
al moment arrived. The Kenzen slashed at the knight’s calf and scored a minor hit. The damage it caused was not significant, but it was enough to cause a distraction and allow Gareth to get in under the knight’s defenses. Gareth bent low and slashed his sword across the back of the knight’s hamstring. His opponent abruptly went to the ground.

  Krystian pumped his fist in the air before he grabbed his mouse and moved Gareth to stand over his defeated opponent. He quickly kicked away the knight’s weapons and held his sword tip against the small piece of exposed flesh just underneath his helmet.

  “Mercy,” cried out the knight in his accented voice.

  “Never, you prick,” replied Gareth, and he drove his sword into his foe. Plumes of scarlet blood gushed out in high definition onto the wall.

  The remaining Kenzen growled its approval.

  Gareth savored the moment of victory. There would be a mandatory 24-hour wait penalty for the knight to be reincarnated since he had been killed in his own stronghold, so Krystian had the time. Usually players were either out adventuring or logged off, with the computer left to control defense. This had been a wonderful and unexpected treat. It also meant that getting into the treasure vault would be easy since there would be a key somewhere on the knight’s person. Gareth found it without too much trouble.

  The Kenzen stepped aside and Gareth inserted the key into the sturdy padlock that secured the reinforced door. A few clicks and it fell to the ground. He pushed open the heavy timber and saw a small room containing a dozen treasure chests, each measuring a good two feet wide.

  Some quick mental math suggested that the entire haul probably amounted to five hundred euros.

  “Paydirt,” said Krystian aloud. “A good day’s work, if I do say so myself. And much, much more enjoyable than setting up new characters and whacking them ten minutes later.”

  The Kenzen spluttered agreement.

  “Shut up, you,” growled Krystian into his microphone. “Your kind is so stupid that I’m going to have to spend half of this just to replace your dead companion. So get busy hauling.”

  20

  The Lost Continent, Armchair Safari.

  The pyramid site was huge, perhaps five hundred yards square and filled with rock and debris. The party took a brief respite to conjecture what it was exactly that they had just found. Boris and Father Corman shared grins and backslaps as if they were kids on the playground. Kalam gave curt orders to set up camp. Haas, as stoic as ever, was carefully inspecting the pyramid.

  Megan was still fretful. She followed Sameer over to one of the piles of rubble. Jagged stone blocks anchored a number of timber beams that jutted into the air like a smashed ribcage. “What’s with all this mess?” she asked.

  The wizard shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

  Megan noticed that the debris was arranged in neat rows. Had this been a city of some kind?

  Sameer suddenly took a sharp breath. “Oh. Wow.”

  “What is it?”

  “I wonder if this was used for some kind of... well, spawn killing.”

  Megan grabbed her short sword. “Huh?”

  Sameer raised his hands to calm her. “What I mean is—do you remember when you first came into this world, when you first started playing?”

  “Yes. That was a long time ago.”

  “For me too. Do you remember your starter stronghold?”

  “I think stronghold is a little generous. Hovel, maybe. Not much more than a vault and four walls.”

  “Kind of like this...?” Sameer pointed at a rubble pile next to her.

  “Oh.”

  “Yes,” Sameer nodded gravely. “Oh. All of these look like they could have been starter strongholds. There must be hundreds of them, all arranged around this pyramid. None of them have any enhancements. It’s like they started deteriorating immediately—just like they would if their character had died right after spawning.”

  “Do you think this was part of development testing?” she asked. “Maybe something to do with character generation?”

  “I don’t think so. I think....” His voice trailed off.

  “What?”

  “Well, this would just be another theory, of course. But we’ve been adventuring to discover this so-called legendary fortune, haven’t we?”

  “Yes.”

  “Kalam seems to think that fortune is in the pyramid over there. So how did it get there? Where did it come from?”

  Megan glanced back at the ruined starter stronghold next to her. The roof looked like it had caved in only recently.

  “It came from these,” Megan realized. “Someone created a character in the smallest stronghold possible. And then they’re... harvested so that the money can go into the pyramid.”

  “Yes,” agreed Sameer. “Industrialized spawn killing.”

  Megan scrunched up her nose. “But why?”

  “No idea. It’s all pretty weird, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Yes, quite.”

  Megan turned and saw a vigorous argument going on back near the pyramid. Kalam was gesturing rudely at Boris while Haas stood with his arms crossed. Father Corman sat to the side like he was watching a boxing match. She decided to see what was going on.

  “We can’t find a way in,” Haas explained.

  Boris was seething in frustration. “I’ve checked four times now. Are you sure this pyramid is the one we’re searching for?”

  “Yes, yes. This is it,” Kalam replied. “The instructions I received were very clear.”

  “But not about how to get in, huh?”

  Kalam stiffened. “No. Just what the stronghold would look like.”

  Father Corman shifted from his perch on the stone step. “There has to be a secret passage.”

  “If there is one at all, it’s pretty damn secret,” answered Boris. “We’ve found nothing so far. No secret portals, no cracks in the stone, nothing. I’ve climbed up fifty feet on each side and found no sign of any entrance. This is just fucking great.”

  Kalam jabbed his finger back at the pyramid. “We need to look more.”

  “Dude, we’ve been looking for an hour. I’m tired of looking. Couldn’t you have made sure your directions included this last, little unimportant tidbit of information before we committed ourselves to fucking weeks of hauling our asses down here?”

  “Let’s take a break, then,” Corman suggested. “We can try again in a little bit when we’ve all settled down.”

  Kalam shook his head. “I say we keep looking while the sun is still up.”

  “Fuck that,” Boris said. He stomped around in a frustrated circle.

  Megan watched the exchanges back and forth. Boris rolled his eyes every time Kalam spoke. Kalam’s face was turning red. Corman looked painfully uncomfortable. She glanced over at Haas and—jeez, he was staring at her again. But it was a knowing stare. It was the sort that one gives another when there is something obvious that should be done, but the person is too dense in that particular moment to realize it.

  What? she mouthed at him.

  The ranger moved his fingers to the purse at his belt and tapped it. Then he pointed at Megan’s waist.

  Megan felt a blanket of dread fall around her.

  The Portable Hole.

  The Portable Hole was private. It was a tool that she was incredibly, randomly lucky to have found early on, and it allowed her to do things that would otherwise be impossible to achieve. It paid for her tuition at college. It paid for her groceries. It was... life. It wasn’t some nice-to-have gadget that made it more fun to play in a fantasy game; it had a very real, tangible impact on her real world. The Portable Hole was a sacred item in the discourse of her income, allowing her to get past many an impasse that would have stopped a lesser thief.

  Which was the point, Megan realized, as Haas’s eyes burned silently into her.

  Oh, I’m going to be sick.

  “I might be able to get inside,” she winced.

  Everyone stared at her. The sudden silence was ee
rie.

  What have I done?

  Reluctantly, Megan stood up. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Haas. There was no approval for putting the needs of the party first, no sympathy for the sacrifice of her secret. He simply watched her behind the impassable mask of a face that he always wore, waiting.

  The blocks from which the pyramid was built fit against one another so tightly that the gaps between them were almost non-existent. Each layer was about four feet high and formed a shelf before connecting with the next tier up. It was a puzzling edifice with no distinguishing features other than being massive and solitary.

  Megan climbed up several tiers until she was about sixty feet off the ground. If she was going to break in, she was going to do it thief-style, and that meant never entering on the ground level where owners liked to put traps. A glance down revealed she was commanding her companions’ complete attention. It was unsettling. Megan took a deep breath and resigned herself to what she knew she needed to do. She was their one, best hope of figuring out how to gain access to the interior.

  She slowly opened her pack and pulled out the small, folded square of transparent cloth. Feeling like she was undressing under the stare of a thousand eyes, Megan unfurled the Portable Hole and slapped it against the stone next to her. Instantly a tunnel appeared that led inside the pyramid.

  Moments later and she was inside.

  It was pitch black except for the light from outside. She was in a rectangular corridor that ran parallel to the outer wall. The shape of the passage was a bit odd, only four feet wide and four tall, so that it was impossible to stand up straight and walk. Megan used her sword to probe for traps as she crept carefully along the tunnel. After a few feet the darkness became too great and she unwrapped a Glow Globe from her thief’s pack. Instantly the corridor was illuminated with a dim but steady red light.