LARP Night on Union Station (EarthCent Ambassador Book 14)

by E. M. Foner

  Mizash shook his head in mock despair as he joined the group. “I take it I’ve interrupted the unauthorized sharing of information,” he said. “Well, we’re supposed to be cooperating so I can’t get too angry, but if you tell them everything, I won’t have anything to say to Clive at our scheduled meeting.”

  “We were just talking about the ambassador’s sabbatical project,” Czeros said. “She’s going to be signing up for the mediator list.”

  “An excellent plan,” the Frunge spy chief said. “There’s no better way to study how the various species interact than by becoming involved in their disputes. If I could get anybody to accept my agents as mediators I’d provide their services for free, but unfortunately, nobody trusts spies to be unbiased.”

  Five

  “This lighting is creepy,” Vivian complained, holding up a pale blue hand in front of Samuel’s face. “Are you sure the lift tube brought us to the right place?”

  “We’re early,” Samuel said. “This place has that empty feel I remember from all of the hidden decks that Libby showed us back when she was starting Libbyland. I’ll bet that the Stryx don’t want people role-playing fantasy games in public areas. Do you want to warm up a bit while we’re waiting for everybody else?”

  “Sure,” the girl replied, drawing her noodle sword from its scabbard and launching an attack on her companion, whose arms were still entangled in his backpack straps.

  “Hey!” Samuel shouted, flinching as the blade made contact with his shoulder and instantly drooped like a strand of over-cooked spaghetti. “Stop doing that.”

  “It’s so cool, I can’t help it. With Jorb to tank for us, we’re going to kill whoever we go up against.”

  “You invited Jorb?” Samuel finished shrugging off his pack and drew his own sword.

  “He may act like the laziest Drazen in the Open University, but I stopped at the dojo to watch him teach, and he was throwing Dollnicks around like rag dolls. I’ve been studying up on LARPs with my brother, and if we outfit Jorb with a little armor and a few protective spells, he can be the first through the door to draw the enemy’s fire while we flank them.”

  “But I invited Marilla,” Samuel told her, and then executed a perfect lunge move at Vivian, who parried his thrust with her own weapon. The sound and feel of the blades clashing was so nearly identical to what the two teens were accustomed to from fencing with steel weapons that neither of them could help grinning. “Besides, Jorb is more of a berserker than a tank.”

  “I don’t get why they hate each other,” the girl said, giving ground as Samuel pressed the attack with his greater bulk and longer reach. “But if we come up against a Horten group, we’ll have to worry about them wooing Marilla into changing sides.”

  “When Jorb sees her, he’ll probably go over to the enemy without being asked.”

  Vivian escaped to the side as Samuel tried to back her into a wall, and glancing over his shoulder, said, “Hey, Marilla.”

  “You think I’m going to fall for that?” Samuel demanded, redoubling his efforts.

  “Hey, Vivian. Hello, Samuel,” the Horten student said. “Save something for the melee.”

  The teen dropped his guard and spun around to greet his classmate, giving his fencing opponent the opportunity to plunge the point of her sword into his side. It felt like being attacked with a cube of Jell-O.

  “Marilla,” Samuel welcomed her. “Great costume. Are you a Horten pirate princess?”

  “Assassin,” she informed him. “I couldn’t find any information about what we’ll be up against so I went with a stealthy character. The students who participate in these Open University LARPs all had to sign the same non-disclosure agreements that we did and nobody is talking. The funny thing is that I know Hortens who are really into role-playing and usually you can’t get them to shut up about their latest adventure.”

  The lift tube doors slid open and a Drazen yodeling a war cry leapt out brandishing a battle axe. Then he caught sight of the Horten girl and he scowled. “What’s she doing here?”

  “Were you planning on chopping down some trees?” Marilla asked sweetly.

  Jorb growled and slammed his axe down on the deck, where the head puddled like iron molasses. “If I didn’t need the credit I’d be out of here. Where are we, anyway?”

  “Samuel thinks it’s one of the hidden decks,” Vivian offered. “Maybe the gamemaster will know.”

  “And maybe he’s not saying,” a voice spoke from the opposite direction.

  “Jeeves!” Samuel exclaimed. “Are you the gamemaster?”

  “You may call me the orchestrator,” the young Stryx said. “Follow me, and be aware that after I declare a start, you will be penalized for breaking character. As first-timers, you begin with twenty-five points each, and anybody with a negative total at the end of the experience receives no credit for participating.”

  “What is this?” Jorb grumbled to Vivian. “You said we were going on an adventure.”

  “That’s what I thought it was.”

  “Now pay attention,” Jeeves continued, leading them into a small room that was reminiscent of a ship’s bridge. “There is a character sheet for each of you on the table. Do not look in anybody else’s folder and do not share your personal characteristics or you will be playing at a disadvantage. You have five minutes to read your sheet and get into character before I give the starting instructions.”

  The four students retrieved the plastic folders with their names on the covers and opened them to find their character sheets, printed on the inside like an old-fashioned menu. To Vivian’s dismay, there was no table listing starting values for health, strength, intelligence, or any other figures of merit, much less totals for leveling up. Instead, there were a few short paragraphs of text describing her personal characteristics and motivations. When she read that she would be playing a Stryx, she almost choked.

  “How am I supposed to play a mage without a spell book?” Marilla demanded. “Do I just announce that I’m doing magic and then you say if it worked?”

  “There’s nothing here about the NPCs we’re going to fight,” Jorb complained.

  “NPCs?” Samuel asked.

  “Non-player characters,” Vivian explained. “Jonah says that sometimes the gamemaster arranges for actors to take those roles, but most LARPs feature pre-programmed holograms.”

  “Four minutes,” Jeeves announced. “I suggest you reread your character sheets carefully before wasting your time asking irrelevant questions.”

  “This is all from history, isn’t it?” Marilla demanded. “You’re really asking us to reenact some turning point in the tunnel network’s past, but without scripts. What kind of LARP is that?”

  “An educational one,” Jeeves replied. “Did you think that the Open University was going to give you credit for chasing each other around with fake swords?”

  “This is supposed to be fun,” Jorb said stubbornly, his indignation over being tricked into an educational experience overcoming his awe of the Stryx. “Live action role-playing. This scenario is just a bunch of blather about economics.”

  “I’m afraid there’s been some misunderstanding,” Jeeves said gleefully. “I’ve hired out instances of myself to orchestrate live alien role-playing. The point is to study the decision-making process on the tunnel network through the eyes of another species.”

  “This is all about that Verlock network that Kevin used to escape the pirates,” Samuel said, putting together the clues from his character sheet.

  “The Verlock Trading Guild’s Emergency Recovery Network, better known as VTGERN.”

  “And I’m supposed to be the head of the Trader’s Guild?

  “I bought all this stuff to play a Drazen berserker,” Jorb said, shaking his axe. “The Verlock emperor doesn’t even stand in the presence of subordinates.”

  Marilla brandished her character sheet at Jeeves and said, “According to this, if Jorb is the Verlock emperor, I’m the emperor’s mage, and if Samu
el is the Trader, Vivian must be—”

  “Stryx Gryph,” the girl said in a small voice. “How am I supposed to play any Stryx, much less Gryph?”

  “One minute remaining,” Jeeves warned them. “Do any of you have any practical questions you expect me to answer?”

  “What did you mean when you said you were hired to provide instances of yourself?” Samuel asked.

  “Surely you don’t think that your lab fees cover two hours of my time. I’m currently engaged in orchestrating over a hundred LARPs through holo instances, while my physical instance is arguing with your sister about the cost of the cultured pearls she used in beading her wedding gown.”

  “So we just stand around talking based on our character sheets and then after an hour you grade us?”

  “Time,” Jeeves declared. “It is the three-hundred and fourteenth year in the reign of Shrynlenth the Two-Thousand and Seventh. Three Verlocks have gathered in the control room of the emergency recovery network to discuss its future—the emperor Shrynlenth, his chief mage, and the head of the Verlock Traders Guild. If you haven’t reached a solution before the two-hour time limit, I will assign points or debits based on your progress and describe the alternative history that would have been the most likely result of your failure to act. You may begin.”

  The four students looked down at their character sheets again, but they had all been mentally prepared for a medieval adventure and none of them could think of anything to say. Jeeves, or his hologram, floated silently to the side, and Samuel started examining the various displays surrounding them.

  “Hey. This must be a mock-up of the command center for the old Verlock recovery network,” he said.

  “Five-point penalty,” Jeeves announced. “Going out of character.”

  The teen clamped his lips shut, and another minute ticked by before Jorb, operating on the description of his royal psyche given in the character sheet, declared, “VTGERN is the pride and joy of our people. The Grenouthians have their broadcast network, the Thark have their war fleets, the Cayl have their perfect interstellar combat record and their dogs. Without VTGERN, we will be perceived as just another slow-spoken species with a superior academy system.”

  “And the only practitioners of magic on the tunnel network,” Marilla added, throwing in a series of impressive gestures as if she was causing something to occur somewhere. A muffled explosion sounded outside the room.

  “The recovery network has saved the lives of many traders,” Jorb continued. “After ten thousand years of imperial subsidies, it’s time for the Guild to shoulder the full expense.”

  “We can’t afford this,” Samuel declared, frowning at his character card as if it were a balance sheet. “Three quarters of our trading profits are spent on the recovery network’s upkeep and it’s only been accessed half-a-dozen times in the last century. According to my information, four of those retrievals weren’t even true emergencies.”

  “Our people already pay an emperor’s tithe that is higher than the family revenue-sharing scheme of our Grenouthian competitors,” Marilla said. “The cost of maintaining VTGERN is producing a negative impact on our social cohesion. My prophecy cards tell me that funding VTGERN through public moneys will raise the chance of at least one member planet withdrawing from the empire in the next thousand years by fourteen percent.”

  “An increase of around one in seven doesn’t sound so bad,” Jorb mused.

  “Five-point penalty,” Jeeves declared. “The Verlock emperor would never speak in such imprecise terms about mathematics.”

  The Drazen shot a sour glance at the Stryx’s hologram, but he mastered his desire to say something in response and instead continued arguing his character’s position. “There are millions of VTGERN devices installed on our ships and all of them were sold under royal charter. If we begin buying back the hardware tomorrow, it will still take many years before we can start dismantling the network, and even then, there will certainly be some stray devices that we miss. Our honor is at stake here.”

  Marilla played the trump card from the list of magical objects on her character sheet. “I have here an astral projector that allows instantaneous communication with the Stryx,” she said, holding out an empty hand. “I have spoken to them about the problem—”

  “Without our permission?” Jorb thundered, staring daggers at the Horten girl, who actually flinched.

  “Let us hear what the Stryx have to offer,” Samuel wheedled the emperor. “They are generous when it comes to achieving their ends, and it’s possible they feel threatened by our technological prowess.”

  “Ten-point penalty,” Jeeves announced.

  “Timeout,” Samuel called, making the classical “T” shape with his hands. “I’m not saying the Stryx feel threatened by the Verlock network. I’m saying it as the head of the Traders Guild to sweet talk the emperor into listening.”

  The hologram of Jeeves muttered, “Yeah, right,” and then added. “Penalty rescinded.”

  “Don’t try to sweet-talk us,” Jorb roared majestically. “We will listen to the Stryx’s proposal, but only as a sign of our deep respect for our AI friends.”

  “Five-point bonus,” Jeeves announced.

  “I have consulted with the other first generation Stryx and we are willing to assume responsibility for your recovery network on three conditions,” Vivian said, attempting to lower her voice to sound more like Gryph when he made the occasional public announcement in English. “First, you will attempt to buy back all existing VTGERN devices. Second, any crew using a VTGERN device in the future will be asked to pay actual costs for their recovery or forfeit that device. Third, we want one favor to be exercised at a future time.”

  “You, want a favor from us?” Jorb declared in disbelief.

  “The Stryx have no magic,” Marilla reminded her emperor.

  “The Stryx don’t need magic,” he retorted, and even though Gryph was supposed to be communicating through his mage’s magic box, he couldn’t help looking at Vivian as he spoke. “Are you aware what we are spending—of course you are, but have you considered—of course you have, but—”

  “Emperor,” Samuel interrupted him. “I counsel accepting the Stryx offer.

  “But an open favor?” Jorb gripped his axe and frowned. “A wise leader would never commit his people to such a condition.”

  “If you don’t accept the offer, our only option will be to close the network while there are still devices in circulation,” Samuel argued. “The Stryx are effectively guaranteeing your honor in perpetuity.”

  “In return for our future in perpetuity. We cannot agree without conditions on this favor.”

  “The emperor is correct,” Marilla said, her voice betraying the reluctance she felt in giving Jorb any credit. “Your offer is most generous, Stryx Gryph, but Shrynlenth the Two-Thousand and Seventh is unwilling to commit our people to an unrestricted promise.”

  “Do you trust us so little?” Vivian asked.

  “In the calculation of statecraft, as in battle, one must take all possible outcomes into account,” Jorb replied slowly, almost at the glacial pace of a real Verlock. “If any other species offered us the same deal, we would accept, because if the favor turned out to be too dear, we could sacrifice our imperial honor for the good of our race and refuse. Although we are confident that you would never make an unreasonable demand on us, in the face of Stryx power, we would have no alternative other than to comply. We cannot gamble with our future in that way.”

  “I accept your modification,” Vivian said. “The third condition is removed.”

  “Winner,” Jeeves announced, pointing at Jorb with his pincer. “When the first-generation Stryx took over responsibility for the recovery network, the emperor negotiated nearly identical conditions.”

  “But there was only one possible outcome,” Samuel objected. “What’s the point of playing through when it was going to end with the Stryx assuming responsibility?”

  “This particular scenar
io has been adopted as the standard introduction to LARPing for the Open University and has been played by more groups than you could count in a month,” Jeeves retorted. “The outcomes have ranged from the bankruptcy of the Verlock Empire to the first assassination in the history of the royal family. Fewer than three percent of players who stay on track long enough to hear the Stryx offer even try to negotiate the terms.”

  “Familiarity breeds contempt,” Vivian suggested.

  “What?” Marilla asked.

  “Jorb has met Jeeves before and seen Samuel and I arguing with him. The members of most tunnel network species go through their lives without ever encountering a Stryx in person, and when they do, they duck their heads and turn down a corridor.”

  “An interesting explanation,” Jeeves said. “Now that the LARP is complete I will be leaving, but I can inform you that you’ve all received full credit. One-hundred bonus points will be added to your personal accounts and are convertible into gold coins for purchasing gear at a one-to-one ratio. You may share the private motivations from your character sheets now if you wish.”

  The Stryx vanished in an ostentatious puff of holographic smoke, leaving the students with over an hour and a half open on their schedules.

  “Does anybody want to stop in the university cafeteria?” Jorb asked. “I’m buying.”

  “You’ve studied the Verlock history,” Marilla said in accusation. “You must have known the solution in advance.”

  “I never even heard of VTGERN before, and the only thing I know about Verlock history is that they’ve been around longer than any of the other oxygen breathers on the tunnel network.”

  “So how did you know to reject the offer?”