Reaper

by Janet Edwards

  “The bomber had to plant the bombs,” said Nathan. “It should be possible to narrow down the suspect list by checking which of them were using a controlled droid near the time of the bombing.”

  Something was nagging at the back of my mind. Something about a vending machine. “Point,” I said urgently.

  “Yes?” prompted Hawk.

  “We’re now at the transport stop for a different cluster of server complexes,” I said. “Every transport stop I’ve ever seen before today has had a vending machine on the platform, but this one doesn’t.”

  Nathan gave me a puzzled look. “That’s because only the controlled droids of maintenance staff use this transport stop. Controlled droids aren’t going to buy anything from vending machines.”

  I nodded. “Every transport stop I’ve ever seen before today had a delivery trolley hub as well, but this one doesn’t.”

  Nathan looked even more confused now. “There’s no need for a delivery trolley hub either. Nobody will want to deliver anything to a server complex. The maintenance teams will bring any replacement parts with them.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “The transport stop by the Avalon server complex didn’t have a vending machine either, but it did have a delivery trolley hub. Delivery trolleys can only travel a limited distance from their navigation and recharge hubs, but the Avalon server complex was very close to the transport stop.”

  There was a short silence.

  “You think the bomber installed a delivery trolley hub at the transport stop, and then used a delivery trolley to plant the bombs?” asked Hawk. “That would be a delivery trolley like the one that brought your clothes?”

  “Yah,” I said. “Delivery trolleys can interact with the transport system, call pods and ride in them, place deliveries wherever the customer wants. The bomber could just package up the bombs and instruct a delivery trolley to place one at each of four locations at the Avalon server complex.”

  “But how would the trolley get through the force field?” asked Hawk.

  I shrugged. “A delivery trolley couldn’t enter security codes itself, but you could attach a device to the trolley. Something that would detect when the delivery trolley arrived at the force field, and transmit the code. You might be able to do it with a phone.”

  “That’s right,” said Nathan. “On our last day at school, someone in my class modified a delivery trolley to enter the classroom door code and take in a stench bomb. We never found out who did it.”

  “If a ten-year-old child could modify a delivery trolley to transmit a code, then a maintenance expert could certainly do it,” said Hawk.

  He paused to think for a moment. “If we’re right about this, then we can’t assume the bomber was using a controlled droid at the time of the bombing.”

  “I expect the bomber was doing something very conspicuously innocent in Game at the time of the bombing,” I said gloomily.

  “We’re going back to the bomb site,” Hawk announced, and set the carriage in motion.

  Chapter Seven

  As the carriage accelerated, I felt the arms of my seat grab me again. I should have been getting used to them pinning me down by now, but actually I hated it even more. Fortunately I only had to endure the feeling of being a helpless prisoner for a couple of minutes before we were back at the previous transport stop and our seats released us.

  We stepped out of the carriage onto the platform, and Hawk walked across to the red square of the delivery trolley hub. “It looks as if this was fitted very recently. There’s still grit around the edges where the hole was cut. Why would the bomber go to so much trouble to use a delivery trolley, when it would be easy to plant the bombs using a controlled droid?”

  He didn’t wait for a reply, just led the way along the path to the gap in the Avalon server complex force field. As we walked through it, Hawk’s Unilaw fan club spotted him, and came hurrying over, surprised but delighted by his return.

  “I’ve come to see what progress Romulus and Remus have made,” said Hawk.

  The crowd backed away again, letting us move on to where two controlled droids were standing next to one of the four deeper areas of crater. The controlled droids bore the markings of Unilaw on their chests, but I recognized their faces as those of Romulus and Remus. The problem was that their Game images always showed the two of them together, so I wasn’t sure which of them was which. I thought that Romulus was the one with the shaggy, red hair, and the one with the shorter, green hair was his husband, Remus.

  Hawk did a rapid round of hand waving and introductions, which told me I’d got it backwards. Romulus had green hair and Remus had red.

  “I appreciate you two agreeing to help me with this,” said Hawk. “I didn’t think until afterwards that seeing a bomb site might bring back unwelcome memories of your accident.”

  Romulus frowned. “It raises a few ghosts ...”

  “... but not entirely bad ones.” Remus waved a hand. “You could argue that explosion saved our lives because ...”

  “... we’d never have entered Game if we hadn’t been injured,” said Romulus.

  “If I hadn’t been injured,” said Remus. “You’d have coped without your arm. I was the one who was dying. No regrets?”

  Romulus grinned at him. “I regret every single day of the four centuries that I’ve had to put up with you.”

  There was the clashing sound of metal on metal, as Remus gave him a mock slap on the head, and then the two of them turned their attention back to Hawk.

  “We’re still finding it a bit of a challenge to use the controlled droids,” said Romulus, “but investigating the bombing is quite interesting.”

  “We found enough parts to work out what the bombs were like,” said Remus, “and United Law may be able to trace some of the electronic components. The four bombs seem to have been identical except for the fact that one included a timing device that sent a short range signal to trigger all four bombs.”

  “They’re fairly standard bombs,” said Romulus. “Not that any bombs are standard now, but this type of bomb was one of the most common ones used for a period of several hundred years. Basic but functional.”

  “Do you think the bombs were made by a beginner or an expert?” asked Hawk.

  Romulus and Remus looked at each other for a moment, exchanging glances that I didn’t understand.

  “Expert,” said Romulus grimly.

  Remus nodded. “The explosive was home cooked. The ingredients are easy to get, or used to be easy to get centuries ago, but it’s a delicate process. Get it wrong and ...” The droid waved its arms in a graphic gesture.

  “The devices too,” said Romulus. “These were standard bombs, but there were a couple of modifications that help prevent ... Well, whoever made this bomb had made a few before and knew the inside tricks.”

  “Which means we have bad news for you,” said Remus.

  “I know what you’re going to say,” said Hawk. “The bombs were made by someone at least a couple of hundred years old. This just confirms what I already suspected for other reasons. One or more teenagers in the real world may have been recruited to help with the bombing, but it was organized by someone in Game.”

  There was an awkward silence until Hawk spoke again. “I need to look at the points where the four bombs were placed. Were you able to work out their exact positions?”

  They both replied at once.

  “Within about three inches,” said Romulus.

  “Within about seven centimetres,” said Remus.

  They frowned at each other, and then shrugged in unison.

  “Either sounds good,” said Hawk. “Please show me.”

  Nathan and I stood watching, while Hawk, Romulus, and Remus did a lot of crawling round craters. Finally, Hawk came back over to us.

  “I need to consult a Game Tech about some details.”

  He turned to look across at the group of Game Tech droids that I’d noticed on our previous visit, made a beckoning gesture, and a
droid bearing an image of a Game Tech with silver insignia on her cheeks started walking towards us. Hawk shook his head at her, and pointed his finger at the droid that had a male face with gold insignia shining brightly against dark skin.

  The terrifyingly high-ranked Game Tech came over to join us. Hawk waved a hand at Nathan and me in turn. “Nathan and Jex are assisting me with my investigation.”

  The Game Tech nodded in acknowledgement.

  “Romulus and Remus have given me the positions of the four bombs,” said Hawk. “If you allow for the small amount of potential error in their measurements, then they form the corners of a perfect square. I can’t believe the bombs would have been placed so precisely if a person had planted them, either while physically present or while using a controlled droid.”

  “I would agree,” said the Game Tech. “Player Hawk, your comment seems to indicate you are considering the possibility of the bomber being within Game.”

  “I am,” said Hawk. “Jex noticed something interesting about the transport stop used to access this cluster of server complexes. Are we right in thinking that the transport stops used to access server complexes wouldn’t normally have delivery trolley hubs?”

  “Moment.” It was a few seconds before the Game Tech spoke again. “That is correct.”

  “The transport stop for this server complex does have a delivery trolley hub,” said Hawk, “and it appears to have been recently fitted. We suspect that means a delivery trolley was used to plant the bombs. I’ll ask United Law to investigate who fitted that delivery trolley hub, and see if they can try to track down what deliveries were made using it. I believe that’s more in their area than yours.”

  “That is correct,” said the Game Tech.

  “The next thing is in your area though,” said Hawk. “I’ve got the location of the centre of the perfect square formed by the bomb craters. You must have a physical location of the Avalon server complex stored in Game records. Can you please access it for me?”

  A minute later, the Game Tech and Hawk recited a string of numbers in unison.

  “Snap,” said Hawk.

  Nathan and I looked at him in bewilderment.

  “It’s an archaic word, meaning we have a perfect match,” said Hawk. “The delivery trolley was sent to the exact location listed in Game records. It then followed its orders to place each bomb a given distance away from that point in the direction of each of the four buildings.”

  “The bomber had obtained the physical location listed in Game records for the Avalon server complex.” The Game Tech was obviously unhappy about this news.

  “Is that location given to visiting maintenance teams?” asked Hawk.

  “Maintenance teams should only be told the nearest transport stop to their destination, and which paths to follow on arrival,” said the Game Tech. “Moment.”

  We waited for over ten minutes before the Game Tech spoke in a grim voice. “The physical locations stored on our records are the precise centre of each server complex. That information is definitely not given to maintenance teams. It is held among highly confidential Game design details, so only Game Techs are able to access it, and all requests for that data are recorded on an audit trail.”

  “So who has requested the physical location of the Avalon server complex?” asked Hawk.

  “The sole request on record is the one I just made myself,” said the Game Tech, in suicidal tones. “There is evidence that earlier requests were made, but the records of them have been expertly removed from the audit trail.”

  My brain refused to accept what he was saying. These things couldn’t be true, because if they were ...

  Hawk put the unthinkable into words. “You’re telling me that one of your fellow Game Techs was involved in the Avalon bombing?”

  “That is correct.” The Game Tech wasn’t even trying to keep the emotion out of his voice now. “Security on all server complex information is being increased with immediate effect.”

  “Blocking future access to location information won’t help us,” said Hawk. “The bomber could have already made a list of the physical locations of every server complex, and we can’t change geography.”

  He was speaking in a harsh, heavily emphasized voice now. “You have to block the bomber’s access to the force field codes, or he’ll crash another Game world and many more thousands of people will die.”

  “We are aware of the vital necessity of protecting the force field codes,” said the Game Tech. “Special isolation measures are being taken to prevent Game Techs from accessing that information except through authorized channels. To keep authorized access to a minimum, all routine maintenance inspections have been temporarily suspended. Remote diagnostics will be run on all servers daily.”

  “What happens if those diagnostics show problems with a server?” asked Hawk.

  “Maintenance crews will need to investigate any problems reported, but each crew will be accompanied to the server complex by two silver status Game Techs and four armed Unilaw officers. The actual requests for force field codes will need to be authorized by three gold status Game Techs from different departments.”

  The Game Tech paused. This was a gold status Game Tech, a god of virtual reality, but his rigidly controlled expression had changed to something very human and vulnerable.

  “Hawk, I have to appeal to you as an old friend. Please think very hard about the consequences of announcing this development to the Game population. They’re already frightened after the bombing. If you tell them that a Game Tech was involved, you’ll trigger a mass panic.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” said Hawk grimly. “I’m close to panic myself, imagining all the horrors that a rogue Game Tech could inflict on people in Game. Changing the ground under players’ feet to lava. Sending boiling rain down on them. Perhaps even deleting player consciousnesses from Game, so there’s nothing but empty shells of bodies left in freezer units.”

  “There would be billions of players calling for defrost from Game. The system can only handle a limited number of defrosts at one time, and even if it could cope with the volume there’d be no way to house or feed the extra people arriving in the real world.”

  “Calm down, Kwame,” said Hawk. “I’m here representing the players’ best interests, and it’s definitely not in their best interests for me to terrify them by telling them that a Game Tech was involved in the Avalon bombing. I’m as eager to keep this news secret as you are.”

  The Game Tech turned to look at me, and then at Nathan. “Jex and Nathan, your discretion on this matter is essential.”

  My brain was numb with shock. I’d been stunned by the idea that a Game Tech was involved in the Avalon bombing, but it was almost as hard to cope with watching Hawk have this conversation with Kwame. Game Techs were remote, anonymous figures. They never had personal conversations with players.

  The whole foundations of my universe were falling apart, but I managed to make myself nod my head. I heard a strangled squeak from Nathan.

  “Our discovery has to be shared with the core team that’s leading the Unilaw bombing investigation,” said Hawk, “but I hope we can depend on them to keep it a closely guarded secret. Will you be able to stop the news spreading through the ranks of Game Techs, Kwame? I’d like to leave the bomber in blissful ignorance of our suspicions.”

  “Unfortunately,” said Kwame, “the new security measures will make it painfully clear to all Game Techs that we suspect one of our own people was involved in the bombing. I believe our best option would be to inform all Game Techs at once, so they can watch for colleagues acting suspiciously.”

  Hawk sighed. “Very well. All Game Techs will be informed. The core Unilaw investigation team will be informed. The general player population will be left believing that teenagers in the real world carried out the bombing.”

  “The Game Techs will focus their efforts on making all the security changes necessary to protect the Game worlds and players,” said Kwame. “We’ll nee
d to protect you in particular, Hawk. As the players’ representative, and the most prominent member of the hunt for the bomber, you’re a potential target. I’ll be watching over your safety myself.”

  He paused. “With a small team to verify everything I do. I have to be considered a suspect along with everyone else.”

  “Thank you,” said Hawk. “The last four hundred years have been fun and I’ve still got a few impossible monsters to kill. I’ve put in a lot of thought on how to defeat the Behemoth, and I’d hate to be deleted from existence before I get the chance to try out my latest tactics.”

  “I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “I have every faith in you.” Hawk’s smile lasted only a moment before his expression lapsed into one of anxiety again. “I’m tempted to ask you to put armed guards at every server complex.”

  “In the current situation, we could not refuse that request,” said Kwame, “but I doubt that Unilaw could supply the many thousands of armed guards that would be needed.”

  “There are plenty of players with experience of using Game weapons on worlds like Civil War,” said Hawk. “I could ask for volunteers to use controlled droids to ...”

  He abruptly broke off his sentence and shook his head. “No, we can’t possibly risk it. Guards won’t be very effective unless they’re inside the server complex force fields, and having a group of droids brandishing weapons inside every force field could do far more harm than good. A rogue Game Tech could threaten the players controlling those droids, even torture them, forcing them to damage the servers themselves.”

  Kwame frowned. “We can assign a team of Game Techs to protect the guards on the new Avalon server complex, but it’s impossible to do that for all two thousand worlds in Game. We wouldn’t have the spare resources for it at any time, but especially not now. Our people are already going to be working extreme hours to improve Game security and find the identity of the bomber.”

  “We’d better forget the guard idea then. One final question. Is there any way to change things so people don’t defrost if a world crashes? Couldn’t you link world servers together, so if one world crashes the others can provide some sort of lifeline for players?”