by Tom Clancy
“Hi. You’ve reached Mark Gridley. I’m not here at the moment. Ping me with your address, and I’ll get back to you.”
After leaving a message, Matt touched the IM icon for Leif Anderson next.
“Yeah?” Leif’s voice sounded groggy.
“Matt. Catch you at a bad time?”
“I was asleep. A nocturnal thing a lot of mammals that aren’t wired for the Net are prone to do. At one point, it was all the rage. What do you need?”
“There’s been some trouble.” Matt copied the audio file Maj had uploaded, then held out his hand and a tiny silver ear icon dropped into his palm. “Are you presentable?”
“By the time you get here, I’ll have run my fingers through my hair and wiped the sleep drool from my face.”
Matt followed the telecommunications link from Maryland to the New York City apartment where Leif lived with his parents. The apartment building was one of the tallest in the Manhattan area. Moonlight shimmered off the East River. The security programming showed as a tight-fitting silvery-blue bubble around the structure.
Matt stretched his hand forward and made contact with the security programming. Wintry chill raced along his arm. In the next instant he was sucked into the building, actually stumbling a bit when the holoprojector programming set up in Leif’s room returned the sensation of gravity to him.
Leif’s bedroom was huge. His father, Magnus Anderson, owned and ran one of the most prestigious financial investment firms on Wall Street. Leif’s mom, Natalya, was a former New York City Ballet dancer and had founded her own studio.
Leif sat on the edge of the bed, far from sartorially perfect. His red hair stuck up rebelliously, and his eyes were bloodshot. His complexion was fair and freckled. He wore a well-worn dark green robe and furry slippers. He covered a yawn with one hand just a microsecond too late to be anywhere near elegant.
“Have a seat.” Leif turned a hand over and offered the recliner across from the bed.
“No time,” Matt said. “I’ve got an IM out for Mark, too.”
Leif cocked an eyebrow in speculative interest. “What exactly have you run afoul of?”
Matt shook his head. “I have no idea, but I know that somebody slipped a virus into my system that shut down communication between Maj and me.”
“Considering the Squirt designed a lot of the protective software in your system, that’s impressive. Which brings me to the question of, what can I do?”
“Maj uploaded an auditory file she wanted you to take a look at.” Matt tossed the silver ear icon across.
Leif caught it, pushed up from the bed, and walked toward the inline chair. “What am I looking for?”
“The language,” Matt said. “We couldn’t understand it.”
Both Leif’s eyebrows shot up. “On the Net?”
“Yeah. Something showed up in our world that wasn’t supposed to be there — or maybe we showed up in its world. I don’t know.”
Leif lay down in the implant chair, making himself comfortable and pulling the robe over his body. He wiggled his toes. “You’ll be on the Net?”
“Yes. Catie’s my next contact.”
Leif closed his eyes. “I’ll be in touch if I find out anything.”
Matt stepped back through the bedroom wall and hurled himself out over the cityscape below. He sailed along the grid crisscrossing Manhattan, took a bounce off a comm-sat, and arrived back in Maryland almost instantly.
Once more in his veeyar, he called up his address book again and looked for Catie Murray’s room number in the Bessel Mid-Town Hotel. Before he found it, a window opened up to his right.
“Knock knock,” Mark Gridley said.
Matt reached up and tapped the window with a forefinger, removing the protective programming. Mark Gridley appeared instantly in the rectangular opening. The Squirt was barely fourteen years old. His Thai-American heritage showed in his brown eyes, black hair, and olive complexion. He wore a red T-shirt depicting a popular Japanimation robot in battle stance with a sword that threw off green energy spikes.
Mark reached through the window and took Matt’s hand, then allowed himself to be pulled through. “What’s up?”
Briefly Matt sketched out the trip into the other veeyar.
“You don’t know if the other veeyar is at the hotel?” Mark asked when Matt finished.
“No.”
“Where’s Maj?”
“Online. Looking for the veeyar.”
“Let’s see if we can contact her first,” Mark said, accepting the compass-shaped icon Matt gave him that Maj had sent along.
Matt pulled up the Net address for Maj’s room again, then punched the icon to connect.
“I’m sorry,” the computer voice intoned. “That address is no longer valid. Would you like to try another?”
Cold dread filled Matt, but he punched in Catie Murray’s hotel number.
Looking around, Gaspar saw that Madeline Green kept a really well-organized veeyar. He was deep in the veeyar’s sysops, using a masking utility that was barely holding its own with the security programming integrated into the system. At present, Madeline Green’s system was reading his presence like he was a routine diagnostics check coming from the hotel’s security system. If she’d been operating from home, without having to go through the hotel’s systems for access, Gaspar didn’t know if he could have gotten through so quickly.
The security programs were interpreted as an aquarium by his own veeyar’s perception. If he’d been tied in with Madeline Green’s systems, he’d have had the same perception of it as she did.
His own system currently modified him so that he perceived himself as a heavily cybered fish. His gills resembled grills and his fins were angled metal that would have looked at home on the experimental jet Madeline Green had piloted through Peter’s world.
He glided through aquamarine water, scanning the various clumps of brain coral on the black and red aquarium rocks below that represented various folders where files were stored. He darted around a sunken tree stripped of leaves and bark by various scavengers.
Without warning, a section of the sunken tree exploded outward, swinging on hidden hinges. A ropy octopus arm erupted from the hollow space inside and wrapped around Gaspar’s rear fins.
Automatically he squelched the impulse to run. He peered into the lavender translucent eyes in the wedge-shaped head inside the tree hollow. He accessed his hacking utilities, knowing he wasn’t going to completely escape the tentacled arm holding him.
Smooth as a spider sliding down a web, he opened his fishy mouth and exploded through it in a smaller version of the fish body, leaving the husk behind him. As he swam off toward another clump of orange and turquoise brain coral, he glanced behind him.
Three other tentacled arms shot out of the hollow tree and wrapped around the husk he’d left. With all the programming carried inside his new body, it would take nearly a minute for the security program to process the husk and realize the veeyar’s security had been breached.
He popped a timer into his peripheral vision and set it for forty-five seconds. Then he swam, going with the currents inside the aquarium when he could.
The brain coral in front of him set off a vibration that thrummed along the lateral line in his fish body. Just as in a real fish, the lateral line ran the length of his body and was particularly sensitive to pressure changes and movement in the water. Fish used their lateral lines for direction and also as a warning system announcing the arrival of threats.
Gaspar had set his own lateral line to detect the files relating to Peter’s veeyar. The timer had dropped below thirty seconds.
Concentrating, he focused on the task ahead of him. Three-fingered hands attached to multijointed arms sprang out from the sides of his face. The appendages calmly searched the surface of the brain coral, ferreting out its secrets.
Seventeen seconds remained on the clock when Gaspar succeeded in cracking the brain coral file. The brain coral opened like wedges in an
orange, exposing gleaming lines of data that circled inside.
Gaspar reached into the brain coral with his new hands. Their heavy talons raked the datastreams. One hand drew the existing datastreams in while his other pumped data back into the brain coral.
With four seconds left, Gaspar pulled out of Madeline Green’s veeyar, popping back into the Net just outside the Bessel Mid-Town. He floated freely eight stories above the street.
Holding his hand out, he focused on the file he’d retrieved from the Net Force Explorer’s veeyar. Immediately a miniature holo player appeared on his palm, the small case gleaming bright cobalt blue. He opened it and pressed the Play icon. Images of Madeline Green’s encounter with Peter and his dragon flashed across the three-inch screen.
Gaspar closed the holo player and made it disappear. Accessing the feeds he’d kept open to the girl’s room, he took a quick peek back inside. So far Heavener’s ground unit hadn’t arrived.
Suddenly a bright yellow sash snaked out in front of him, then wrapped around his right wrist. The sash had all the strength of cotton candy, but what it signified reminded him of how much he could lose.
Someone had found him with a trace-back utility, he realized as he yanked his hand through the yellow sash. Even if he logged off, the trace-back utility would locate his point of origin if the user was any good. And if that happened, he knew Heavener would kill him. The trace-back material parted easily. He turned, morphing from the hotel staff proxy into another proxy, one of a dozen he preferred on the Net. The suit dropped away, melting into the sigil-covered armor of his personal choice in proxies.
In the blink of an eye he was nearly seven feet tall and broad-built. A large bearskin robe covered enchanted armor, wrapping his head in a peaked hood. He unsheathed the curved sword at his hip and took a two-handed stance as he turned around to face the trace-back.
The yellow sash wiggled in front of him, making tentative darts toward him without actually making contact. A slight figure approached from the other end of it.
It’s just a kid, Gaspar thought as he studied the slim figure in the red T-shirt. Then he reconsidered that. He wasn’t seven feet tall except through the proxy parameters. Maybe the kid wasn’t a kid. Maybe he wasn’t even alone. Whatever he was, though, he was good if he could make the trace-back tag.
The kid stopped less than ten feet away, hovering comfortably over the street. “Hi,” he said in a calm voice as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m Mark Gridley, a Net Force Explorer.” ID popped into existence over his left shoulder, legible even at the distance. “I thought maybe we needed to talk.”
“Tell me Maj isn’t in room five eighteen,” Catie Murray whispered, glancing desperately around the hallway. No one was visible except the four men she’d spotted in the elevator on her way up to Maj’s room after getting Matt’s vidphone call. She wore her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was dressed for suburban stealth in a warm-up suit and cross-trainers.
She opened the foilpack again, sliding aside a tiny compartment cover, and dropped an earpiece into her hand. She popped the earpiece into her ear, then plugged the micro-thin connector wire into the foilpack’s aud jack.
“Can’t,” Matt said.
The men were young, average in height and appearance. They wouldn’t stand out in a crowd. Curling wires at the back of their necks that led up to their ears advertised they were jacked into foilpacks or some kind of comm devices. All of them were grimfaced, moving in concert, as if they’d practiced. One pulled an electronic device from under his jacket and laid it over the door lock.
“They’re breaking into her room.” Catie turned and held the foilpack so the vid could pick up the men at Maj’s door.
“Sit tight,” Matt advised. “I’ve already called the L.A. Police Department.”
Catie remembered the hallway she’d passed in the elevator foyer. The rooftop facilities the Bessel Mid-Town Hotel offered included a swimming pool and banquet area. “Can you hack into the hotel computer system and set off the fire alarm?”
“You could do that.”
“I’m going to be busy.” Catie sprinted down the hallway, digging her feet into the carpet and pushing off. She used her arms to push off walls and make the turns back to the foyer. “And I need as much time as I can get.”
“If I trigger the fire alarms,” Matt pointed out, “the hotel doors automatically open as part of the safety features.”
“I’ve got a plan,” Catie replied as she reached the foyer, caught the handle of the door leading to the rooftop facilities. Maybe not much of a plan, but it’s all I’ve got.
5
Maj guided the Striper through the blue sky high above the windswept desert. So far, she hadn’t been able to find the dragon or its rider. Powering the jet down, she dropped toward the hard deck and unsnapped her facemask in frustration.
“Warning, Room Five Eighteen!” a shrill voice suddenly screamed. “Impending security breach.”
A sudden chill ghosted through Maj. Her body was back in a hotel room, not safely tucked away at home. She forced herself to be calm. “Notify the security desk.”
“The security desk no longer exists.”
The statement caught Maj by surprise. “Check again.”
The only way the security desk doesn’t exist, Maj knew, is if new programming has invaded the security system and redefined the parameters. The assault began on this room before someone started forcing the door. “Bring up the door’s external security vid scan.”
A letterbox-shaped two-dee screen popped into the cockpit with her. Only gray fuzz showed on the screen.
“Where’s the vid?” Maj asked.
“Scanning. Nothing exists outside the parameter of this room.”
There was a sound like breaking glass, then the two-dee screen suddenly disappeared.
Near panic, Maj refastened the mask over her face, then slammed a gloved palm against the ejection button. The cockpit canopy blew free, swept away in the jetstream. The seats launched from the Striper a heartbeat later. Maj rode the seat high into the air. When she pulled her chute free, the drag yanked her up and back into the real world.
She opened her eyes in the implant chair in the hotel and watched as, across the room, the doorknob turned.
I have definitely had better ideas, Catie thought as she stared down the five-story drop to the street. Knowing time was working against her, she glanced around the rooftop facilities the Bessel Mid-Town Hotel offered.
A huge pool occupied an area just off-center, flanked by dozens of lounge chairs. Farther back to the left, the banquet area sat in quiet order, stripped of tablecloths and the flower arrangements Catie had seen earlier.
On the right was the low-roofed building that housed the gym. The third side of the rooftop opened up to the western skyline.
Maj is in trouble. As soon as the thought passed through Catie’s mind, she was in motion. She oriented herself quickly, sprinting for the low-roofed exercise area. She played a lot of soccer when she got the chance, so she was in good shape and knew how to handle herself.
Small balconies stuck out from every room in the hotel, each equipped with a small plastic table and two lounge chairs.
Catie vaulted from the top of one of the huge pots on either side of the exercise room and grabbed the roof’s edge. Wearing the foilpack strapped to her wrist, she hauled herself up onto the building. Dashing across the building, she found it wasn’t as close to the nearest balcony as she’d hoped.
She halted at the edge and peered down through the darkness. Neon lights chased away a lot of the night’s shadows, and it only made the view to the street below clearer.
Never look, she told herself as fear turned sour and cold inside her. It’s definitely not a good idea to look. She took a deep breath and backed away from the edge.
“Catie!” Matt’s voice burst from the foilpack earpiece.
“What?” Forgot I still had the vid function on the foilpack.
&n
bsp; “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to get Maj.” Catie counted the balconies. At least the balconies were closer together than the gym was to the first balcony on the fifth floor. And the jump would be more lateral without the vertical she faced now.
“You can’t do that.”
“Not with you yelling in my ear.”
“Catie—”
“We don’t have a lot of time here,” Catie interrupted. “Those guys who are after Maj have to know she’s a Net Force Explorer. That means they know what kind of trouble they’re getting into. They won’t want any witnesses.”
“Wait,” Matt urged. “I’ve contacted the LAPD. They’re already en route. They can—”
Catie drove her feet hard against the roof of the exercise building, pushing away the numbing fear that made her arms and legs feel as if they’d been filled with lead. I’m right, Matt, and we both know it. No time to argue. I just hope I can make this jump!
Without hesitation, thinking of Maj’s safety hanging in the balance, Catie threw herself from the building’s edge, arching up high to reach the balcony above. The balcony railing thudded into her chest just below the level of her armpits. Her breath left her in a whoosh, but she hooked her elbows over the railing and pulled herself onto the balcony. She didn’t waste time trying to make a great landing on the balcony, just dropping into a loose sprawl that tangled her briefly in the legs of one of the lounge chairs. Gingerly she tried the balcony door but found it locked.
“Matt,” she whispered.
“Yeah. Just getting my breath back and trying to figure out how many ways there are to tell a friend how stupid she is.”
Catie swallowed hard. The post-adrenaline shakes hadn’t settled in yet. “Sound the fire alarm.”
There was only a slight pause. “Done.”
Alarms jangled inside Maj’s room, echoed by the other alarms of the other rooms. Catie yanked on the balcony door and swept the heavy curtains away. Maj was rising from the implant chair, her attention on the turning doorknob.
“Maj.”
Maj’s head whipped around, her eyes widening in surprise. “How did you get up here?”
