Dreadknights, Page 3

  ~ Ø ~

  She almost blew off the Colonial Trials the next day, but then thought better of it. Her aunt had been almost nice last night. Given how much Maggie cared about the Trials, playing hooky would probably set her off. Christine just wasn’t ready to return to their dysfunctional relationship just yet.

  When she jacked in, she expected to see the familiar sight of the barracks. That’s where they usually started these missions. Sometimes it was in the middle of a cornfield. She was surprised to find herself standing in the street of a medieval village. An armored soldier stood by the gate of the walled village. He casually saluted her when he noticed her stare. Davis was nowhere in sight.

  Instead, she saw farmers and merchants bustling along the cobbled streets on their various errands. There were horses and cattle hauling cart loads of hay, produce and wine barrels. A driver rode by on the shoulders of a lumbering rabdil, likely heading for the market pens. Rabdils were a genetically created species. They looked something like giant rabbits with long loppish ears, trunk-like feet and an armadillo’s plates and scales. Despite their elephantine size, they were basically big sheep. Rabdil meat was a common staple for the known universe, but the villagers mainly prized the lumbering brutes for their ability to produce rich fertilizer for the crops.

  “What’s all this?” she asked, knowing Davis had to be monitoring her comms.

  “This is what you’ve been training to protect,” he said. “If you complete the Trials, you’ll work in the fields, but this will be your home. This is Drackenwold.”

  “I’ll be living here?” she asked. “I thought –”

  “You’d been living on one of the farm communes?” Davis laughed. “You’re training to be a soldier, not a farmer, Christine. The barracks will be your home, but this is where you’ll buy your food, shop for clothes, go to church, all that.”

  Christine took a moment to breathe it in. A bell began ringing. She tensed and reached for her weapon.

  “Relax,” Davis said. “This isn’t a drill. Everything’s fine. It’s Sunday. They ring the bell to let folks know church services are about to begin.”

  She relaxed. Exhaled.

  “So no devilpedes today? No batwogs?”

  “Hopefully not. By the way, I’m coming up on your left.”

  She turned to see a handsome young man with sandy brown hair and a roguish grin. She was used to seeing Davis in his combat gear, but today he was dressed in ornamental leather armor. The tunic he wore over his clothes identified him as a member of the House of Dunwich. An emblem affixed upon his breast let everyone know he was one of the officers of the guard. She snorted.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked, straightening his tunic self-consciously.

  “You scrub up nicely.”

  “Thank you,” he said, bowing from the neck.

  “OK, so what’s on the agenda today?”

  “Right. It has come to my attention that you have not taken advantage of the Trial’s initiation tour.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t see the point. I’m more of a jump in and discover it for myself kind of girl.” She flashed a quick grin.

  “The point is to know what it is you’re fighting for.”

  “And what is that?”

  He shook his head. “Look around. These people look like Impworld non-player characters, but they’re very, very real. Their old lives may as well be a universe away. This world with its giant vegetables and hostile alien life forms is their new home. Our job is to protect them so that they can pass on a legacy to their children.”

  “That was very poetic,” she said, “but there’s one little problem with your presentation: this is a simulation. These people aren’t really here. It’s a nodal walkthrough of a world I’ve never set foot on and people I’ve never met, people who probably don’t even actually exist.”

  He opened his mouth to protest. She cut him off. “Don’t patronize me. I know how real a GameComm simulation can seem. I’m not stupid.”

  He started chuckling.

  Her brow furrowed. Was he mocking her? “What’s so funny?”

  “I assure you this is all very real. This may be GameComm’s gameworld, but the people you see here in Drackenwold are as real as they come. They aren’t non-player characters; this is their life. They eat here, sleep here, work here, go shop at those stores, go to worship at that church –”

  “So how does that work? Is it like a part of the job? Are a certain percentage of the Colonists required to go?”

  “He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t understand.”

  “Church,” she said. “I mean, does anybody still do that?”

  He sighed and gave her a look that made it obvious he was humoring her. “I go to church. No one forces me to.”

  “Do they pay you to?” she asked with just a hint of a smirk.

  He scoffed. “You’re improbable.”

  “You mean impossible.”

  “No, you’re real enough.”

  “OK, but seriously, what’s the appeal?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a God thing.”

  She laughed. “So let me get this straight: you live on an alien world and you actually still believe in God?”

  “You don’t?”

  She shook her head. “I dunno. I mean, sometimes, but not like from any particular religion. My mom’s a Christian, but I just don’t see how you can believe the Bible now that we’ve discovered alien worlds.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Well, doesn’t the Bible say that Earth is special or something?”

  “It does. God created man in his own image on Earth. Christ came to die for man on Earth. I think that makes it pretty special.”

  “So how can there be life on other planets?”

  Davis grinned and shook his head. “This conversation is heading into deeper water than I intended to sail today.” He ran his fingers through his sandy hair. “OK. First of all, the Bible doesn’t say anything about extraterrestrial life.” When she started to protest, he held up his hands and quickly added, “Yes, I know there have been Shepherds who said that it did, but it doesn’t. The Bible simply concerns itself with Earth.”

  “No, no. I distinctly remember hearing a shepherd say that exosapiens are impossible because that would mean that Jesus would have to be born and die on all those different planets to save them and the Bible says He died ‘once for all.’”

  “I wouldn’t say impossible. More like improbable.”

  “You keep using that word.”

  “Christine, who says the aliens even need saving?” Davis asked. “Think about it: Tarak is the first place we’ve ever discovered anything even remotely interesting. So far as we know, the most intelligent thing on this planet are the dru,” he said with a conspiratorial wink, “and I’m pretty sure Jesus doesn’t have to come all the way to Tarak to save a bunch of space ants.”

  She laughed. “OK, I guess you’ve got a point.”

  “It’s been known to happen. You should give me and God the benefit of the doubt. Anyway, I have a treat for you today.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

  “Given your celebrity status, the powers that be – I believe you call them the Gamelords – have granted you full disclosure.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’ll see. Initiate protocol Alpha Romeo Golf Uniform Sierra.” He smiled at Christine. “Time to take a look behind the curtain, Dorothy Gale.”

  “You’re so weird.”

  “You like me,” he said. “Now look at your hands.”

  She was too curious not to humor him. To her surprise, she found herself looking at a pair of robotic arms. “What is this?”

  “This is what you look like to me and everyone else here on Tarak,” he said. “You are remote piloting a training drone. They’re not as sophisticated as the biological robots ERL has designed for the Game itself, but these utilitarian throwbacks get the job done. Plus, they’re cheap to
replace when one of our trainees gets one damaged by a devilpede or whatever.”

  Her head still swimming from this new information, Christine started looking around with new eyes. Some of the other villagers of Drackenwold had also been replaced by training drones.

  “So all these drones are being piloted by people who think they’re running the Colonial Trials simulation back on Terra Prime?”

  “Exactly. We used to have waves of new arrivals and that, frankly, was a big ol’ mess. The Gamelords have found that it interrupts the flow of Colonial life less if we introduce new Colonists as sims and then seamlessly replace them with their live counterparts at some point. And, by the way, the Colonists have no real idea you guys are robots either.”

  “So what do they see?”

  “Holograms,” he said. “The whole thing is nanite-driven. Trust me: it looks very real. It’s the same tech they plan on using to pull off a lot of the magic in the live game.”

  “Makes sense, I guess.” She’d been wondering how they were going to make the magic of Impworld happen in a live setting. Now that she knew, she couldn’t wait to see it in person!

  “Only a few select trainees know the truth,” he said, “so don’t go blabbing around about it.”

  She looked at Davis like he’d grown a second head. “Who’d believe me? I’m not sure I really believe it!”

  “I’m sure it takes some getting used to,” he said with a wry grin.

  “Why are you showing me this?”

  “That’s a very good question,” he said. “It has a lot to do with your recent celebrity status. Good job fragging Rosco by the way. Harley told me to tell you that you might want to give yourself a little bit more wiggle room next time though.”

  She laughed. “That was pretty close. If it hadn’t been a guild match, I would’ve bought the farm. Game over.” She blinked. “Wait. So your brother took the time out to watch that match? I’m flattered.”

  He scoffed. “I think everyone in the Verse was watching that match, but make no mistake: Harley’s a big fan of yours. He tells me he even sent you a V after your big win to congratulate you, one gamer to another.”

  Christine’s face flushed with equal parts pride and embarrassment. “Really? I don’t remember getting that.”

  He shrugged and smiled. “That’s what he told me. I bet it’s in your spam.”

  She groaned.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’ve just got way more mail than I ever thought imaginable over the past few days and most of it is just plain spam!”

  “Ugh. I totally understand. All of this scientific progress and we still haven’t eliminated the common cold or spam, right?” He laughed. “Still, you might want to check for it anyway. My brother has the inside track on a lot of stuff and he said he had something for you.

  “I’ll look for it, but I gotta warn you that I’ve started getting a lot more Vs over the past several days.” She beamed at the thought of being able to post actual fan mail from Baldur Splintershield’s player on her nodal wall of fame. “Nevertheless, I give you and your brother my solemn oath that I will give it my best effort.” She saluted for emphasis.

  He laughed as he returned the salute. “Then it’s in the bag. By the way,” he said, “I thought about what you said before about disguising our militia here as elves. I took it to my superiors.”

  “Really?” she asked. “What did they say?”

  He sighed. “Unfortunately, GameComm says that elves are a no-go for this area. Apparently, it would be strange to find a lot of elves where we’re supposed to located.”

  “Where is that exactly?”

  “Uzzial,” he said.

  Her eyes widened. “What??” She looked at the corn forest with new eyes. In the game, Uzzial was filled with wide open plains and guarded by mystical knights on horseback. She knew that the Magewar had made some major changes, but she didn’t know Uzzial was one of the affected areas. “That’s just messed up.”

  He held his hands up in surrender. “Don’t blame me. I just work here. Anyway, they’re just going to have to work the game around it because Uzzial is now one of the major breadbaskets of Tarak.”

  Christine shook her head and breathed, “Edger’s dice.” A mental image of the mystical Magnus Centarii thundering through cornfields made her laugh.

  “What’s so funny?” Davis asked.

  “Sorry. I was just imagining… Wait. What about the Magnus Centarii?”

  “What about them?”

  “What if we posed as Magnus Centarii instead of elves?” she asked. “Think about it. They’re mystic knights, so that would give us some extra tools to play with. Plus they use power lances which would have to be a whole lot more effective on a devilpede than a steel sword.”

  He grinned at her enthusiasm. “We thought about that but devilpedes seem to have a real taste for horseflesh. You can’t have the Magnus Centarii without their noble steeds.”

  “Yeah, but now they’re Magnus Centarii in a world of fairy tale sized vegetables. Who says they have to keep riding horses? What if they adapted to their new environment by, I dunno, riding giant dragonflies or grasshoppers or spiders or something?”

  Davis scoffed. “You know, I’ll run that by my superiors. That might just work. You have a real knack for this. You’re going to fit in just fine.” His expression grew more serious. “Right. Here’s the thing. You’ve still got one match left and, well, I – that is, GameComm doesn’t want to lose you.”

  She stuck out her chin. “They’re not going to. The Dreads are going to win the Guild Wars. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “No one doubts your gaming skills, but they wanted me to talk to you about the other option.”

  “What do you mean? Wait. Are they seriously asking me to choose between Ogress Bloodskull and a life of chasing furrybites out of cornfields?” she asked. She waved to the horizon for emphasis. Despite its gameworld appearance, there was no denying that Drackenwold was surrounded on all sides by an immense forest of gargantuan corn. “Not happening. Besides which, I’ve read the fine print. You may not know this, but my mom is the local heavy of the Human Workers of America. We know what these Colonists really are.”

  Davis scoffed. “Here we go. And what is that exactly?”

  Christine hesitated. For the first time since she’d met him, he looked genuinely angry. Still, she was her mother’s daughter. She wasn’t about to back down to anyone when she knew she was right. “They’re slaves… with no rights! Like medieval serfs.”

  He sighed. “With respect to your mother, Christine, the adults are indentured servants, just like a lot of the folks who colonized the Americas. They work the land in exchange for passage to Tarak, but their children are Freeborn citizens. In fact, you see that guy over there?” he asked, pointing to a farmer talking to another man over a cup of coffee. “That’s Silas Hawkins. Works the Eastern Fields. Comes in town once a month for supplies and to trade gossip with his cronies. Has a son named Marty or Murray... I forget, but it’s something like that. Point is: his kid’s a Freeborn. He’s given his kid the opportunity to be whatever he wants to be. He can be a farmer, a merchant. He can even join the game if he likes. The sky’s the limit.”

  “And what about Silas himself?” Christine asked pointedly.

  “His dad signed the contract. He’s a Colonist for life, but we’re not exactly building the pyramids here. He’s got a good life.”

  “Yeah. No thanks.”

  “Hold on a second. What is this? You knew this when you started the Trials. What’s going on?”

  “My family made me do the Trials,” she said.

  He took a step back, “I didn’t realize that. OK, I get where you’re coming from now, but how is this life any worse than working for the Megacorporations on Earth? At least here, the air is clear and you can actually walk three feet in any direction without running into someone else. It’s a better life, Christine.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.”


  “Besides, you wouldn’t be in it for the long haul if you didn’t want to. You were a minor when the Trials began, so, while you’ll be eighteen when you sign the contract, you’re subject to the St. Christopher’s clause.”

  “What’s that?”

  He grinned anew. “Let me guess: you skimmed the contract.”

  She cringed. “It was really long.”

  “It basically means, you do your tour of duty and then you become a Freeborn. Just like I did.”

  “You’re a Freeborn? Then why are you working as an over-glorified guard dog for the local farm co-op?” The words came out a lot meaner than she intended.

  “Because I like it here, Christine. I like the people. I like the job. This is a great life, Christine. You just need to give it a chance.”

  Christine looked into his eyes. She saw sincerity and something almost wistful. But she didn’t know if she was ready to just give up on her dream. “Let me be perfectly honest here. I’m going to win the Guild Wars. I’m coming here as Bloodskull and that’s final.

  “For the record, I think that would be awesome, but the Gamelords wanted me to let you know that even if you don’t make it as Bloodskull, they want you here on Tarak. You’ve definitely proven yourself, both on the field and, well, in the field.”

  She smirked. “That was corny.”

  “Pots and kettles, Johanssen. Anyway, they just wanted you to know that even if the Dreads don’t win the Guild Wars, you still have a place on Tarak.”

  Her eyes widened. “Wait! Does that mean I’m in?”

  He nodded.

  She leapt into his arms and hugged him fiercely. It immediately felt weird. On several counts. In the first place, the awareness that he was on an alien world hugging a robot was just… Stranger still was the epiphany that she really, really liked Davis. She pushed away.

  She cleared her throat. “You know, it’s funny. The only reason I’m here today is because I needed a distraction.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “I have a big interview with Eddie Mondo tomorrow and I thought kicking back with you would get my mind off it,” she said.

  “Ogress Bloodskull? Nervous? That’s rich!”

  She hit him playfully. “It’s not funny!”

  “Sorry. So you needed a distraction. You’re sure that’s the only reason?” he asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “Then a distraction you shall have,” Davis said, proffering his hand. Giving it his best stage voice, he added, “Allow me to give you the grand tour of the splendor that is Drackenwold!”

  She took his hand and laughed.

  “Excellent choice, milady,” he said. “And it is no coincidence that I have chosen today for this auspicious tour.”

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “Today, a travelling carnival has pitched its colors on the Green. Good food and lousy ale. Man-powered rides. Fortune tellers of questionable pedigree. Exhibitions of strength, skill and agility. Jugglers and fire eaters. I hear they even have a hot air balloon.”

  “Oh, no, no. No balloon rides,” she said, waving a finger. “I’m not crazy about heights.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Is this the same Ogress Bloodskull who took out an opponent at Vertigo Bridge in free fall?”

  She smiled sheepishly. “Don’t tell anyone, but there is a world of difference between Ogress Bloodskull and Christine Johanssen.”

  “I will take that under advisement,” Davis said.

  “Speaking of which, can we get rid of the robot. It’s a little weird.”

  He nodded and spoke the command to return Christine’s view of the world back to the charade it was meant to be. She spent the rest of the day enjoying the carnival and Davis’ company.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  16 – JONES

  She found it difficult to sleep that night. Her interview with Eddie Mondo loomed in her mind like the promise of Christmas morning. Though she wasn’t as well rested as she would’ve liked, Christine determined to get herself in the proper frame of mind for the interview.

  First, she checked the news to see if they were plugging her spot yet. She was pleased to hear her character’s Level Up interview being advertised liberally on the vids. As far as she could tell, the only news items getting more airtime was the announcement that Copper Gallows had escaped the Garden of Stone labyrinth alive and that Auric Lothario was now implicated in some sort of scandal involving his character’s levels. Despite the fact that the Golden Gears had been disqualified from Guild Wars, Goldenboy came out clean in the rezz scandal and was still in the running to qualify as one of the Champions of the Impworld Finals. Except now, folks were saying that his character’s levels were set higher than they should’ve been at the start, giving him an unfair headstart in the competition. Some were already saying he should be disqualified as a cheater along with his guild. Both Copper and Goldenboy were represented by Wayne Entertainment, so critics were already speculating on whether the scandal and Goldenboy’s predicted disqualification would affect Copper’s popularity points enough to rob him of the chance of making it to Tarak himself.

  Even this news was quickly eclipsed by the announcement that Jarrod Seventhborn had returned from his mysterious absence to make a bid for the Impworld Finals. Jarrod was something of a legend in the game. He was also a walking, breathing Murphy’s Law. They didn’t call him the Luckbane for no reason. Most people had a hard time surviving Jarrod’s abominable luck; in fact, many gamers weren’t sure how he had managed to survive it himself! Nevertheless, Luckbane had risen through the ranks of Impworld’s players to become one of its elite. He was part of the original White Hand, a group of veteran players who teamed up because no one else seemed to be able to survive the level of difficulty required to keep them challenged. Then, quite without warning and certainly without explanation, Jarrod dropped out of the game. No one knew why. Or else they weren’t saying. Still even in his absence, Jarrod’s channel had remained one of the most-viewed player hubs, so his rather quiet return did not go unnoticed. Everyone was talking about it and the gamer shows filled with sensational speculations as to what Jarrod would do to make it into the Finals and whether this marked the return of the White Hand.

  Her morning took an unexpected turn when Christine got a summons from her new boss marked urgent. Oddly, it was time stamped for the day before. How had she missed that?

  Knowing she’d better not put it off, she accepted his nodal summons. A few seconds later, she found herself in the virtual office of the late Oscar Diggs.

  Mr. Diggs was dead.

  She’d kind of put that fact out of her mind lately, but now that she was sitting in his virtual office, it was hard not to think about it. Nothing had changed. The aquarium with the creepy little trilobite. The anachronistic bookcase behind the dark-stained wooden desk. The swords, pistols and models of wooden sailing vessels in their display cases. The quaint flag from the old United States on his desk next to the brass nameplate. When the Megacorporations took over, only Israel and Switzerland managed to keep their national identity. The territory once controlled by old Union was now part of the territories owned by the American Cooperative, aka AmeriCo. The Co-op was also called the West because they managed the western hemisphere of the Earth. The rest of the planet was divided amongst Imperial AsiaCorp, the Islamic Confederacy and the European Union. The fifth Megacorporation was Mars Colonies but all of their holdings were, well, off planet.

  The fact that her boss’ office hadn’t changed a bit was weird bordering on morbid because the entire setting was virtual. Usually a new boss came with a brand new office, even if a temp took over. It was all nodal, after all; it wasn’t like there was any real furniture to move around. Mr. Jones hadn’t even changed Mr. Diggs’s nameplate.

  She glanced at the clock on the wall. Mr. Jones was late.

  She sighed. The trilobite sloshed around in its aquarium. Thank heavens that bug-eyed thing wasn’t real.

&nbs
p; Fifteen minutes passed. Christine was about to disconnect the meeting when Jones entered the room through a side door. He walked straight to the desk. As he removed his shimmering jacket and laid it over the back of his chair, she noticed that he was thin, but obviously fit under his designer shirt. If this was really him anyway. You could look any way you wished when you were jacked in to the system.

  “You’re late,” he said as he sat down. She didn’t like the way he stared directly into her eyes. It was a flat, expressionless stare that reminded her the way the sharks in the tank looked at her.

  She frowned. Glanced at the clock again. “No, you are.”

  He followed her gaze. He scoffed. “You got my V?”

  She nodded.

  “The clock says I’m late, but what you need is a calendar. I called this meeting yesterday.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t see it until today. I’ve been getting a lot of Vmails lately.”

  He smiled tightly. “Fan mail, no doubt. Since you’re here…” He stopped smiling. “You’ve missed a lot of work. Where were you?”

  She smiled in what she hoped was a charming manner. She remembered her mother’s rule of thumb for dealing with corporate: Give away as little as possible. “I had to take some personal time.”

  “So in your personal opinion, is losing a guild match a good reason to knock off work?”

  “I have unused days to cover my absence.” She repeated her mother’s answer by rote, but she was starting to sweat. Mr. Diggs had been a fan of hers. He never would’ve talked to her like this.

  “I see. I will assume that since your mother is the local union heavy that you’ve dotted your i’s and crossed your t’s then. When did you discover that Mr. Diggs was dead?” he asked. “While you were holed up in your quarters feeling sorry for yourself or after?”

  “After. My mom just told me yesterday.” She cringed and did her best to look apologetic. It wasn’t difficult. Jones was easily the most intimidating person she’d ever met.

  “Have they told you how he died?”

  “Mom said he was mugged.”

  “That’s what we’re telling everyone.”

  “Is that not what happened?”

  “They took his head. Does that sound like a mugging to you?”

  “His head? What do you mean they took his head?”

  “They took it off –” He made a slicing motion across his neck with his finger” – and then they took it away. I’ve no idea where. They could’ve tossed into the ocean for all I know, though I have reason to doubt that.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  Jones made a dismissive gesture. He looked around and nodded toward a model pirate ship. “‘Dead men tell no tales,’ as they say, but their nodal implants sometimes leave residual traces of data. My guess is that whoever killed him didn’t want to take any chances.” He shrugged. “Unless they were just psychopaths. Could be both.”

  Christine was starting to feel sick. “I don’t think I want to talk about this anymore.”

  “Yes. You’re certainly looking a bit green around the edges.” He sighed and looked around the desk, as if searching for an answer that as yet eluded him. “Back to you then. Your superiors have decided to grant you a bit of grace based on your age and situation. Sudden tragedy can make shipwreck of even the most solid citizens. And you’re still a minor, so a fair bit of drama has to be taken into account at your particular stage of immaturity, right?”

  Christine was sure she should be offended at his remarks, but at present she was just busy concentrating on not throwing up.

  Jones ignored her obvious discomfort and glanced at one of models on Mr. Diggs’s desk. He frowned and bent down to read the inscription on the model’s base. “The Queen Anne’s Revenge. Blackbeard’s ship. Are you familiar with the exploits of William Teach?”

  “The generation ship? Sure, that’s the one that discovered Tarak,” she said.

  He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I meant the person that vessel was named for. William Teach was a pirate.” He made a point of scrutinizing the other model ships. “Whydah. Fancy. Royal Fortune. Adventure Galley. They’re all pirate ships. Did you now Mr. Diggs was interested in pirates?”

  “Um, no,” she said, shaking her head.

  “You just thought he was into old ships,” he said.

  “I actually thought he was into wood,” she said.

  “Wood?”

  She glanced around the room. “Paper books. Wooden ships. A big wooden desk.” She took a deep breath. “Look, I have to ask: why are we in Mr. Diggs’s office at all? I mean, isn’t this a little disrespectful? The man is dead.”

  Jones looked around the room again. “I just thought that seeing you in this setting might answer a few questions for me. What did Mr. Diggs see in you exactly?” Jones asked.

  Her brow furrowed. What was this guy’s problem?

  “I don’t mean it like that,” Mr. Jones said. “You seem personable enough. You just don’t seem to have much in common, but his office logs show that he spent more time with you than any other employee.”

  She scoffed. “Well, he was a fan.”

  “Of what?”

  She frowned, trying to decide whether he was serious. “Guild Wars.”

  “He was a fan of Guild Wars or you?”

  She blushed. “I don’t – maybe a little of both. He’s the one who talked me into getting back into the game.”

  Jones raised an eyebrow. “Really? That sounds like a story. How did that come about?”

  “We were discussing my old exploits in Doomsmack,” she said, “and he just asked me if I’d ever considered tossing my hat back into the ring. I’d been playing the Prometheus Initiative, but it’d been a while, so I told him, yeah, I’d do it if someone would sign me.”

  “I’ve seen you play,” Jones said. “Why did you think no one would sign you?”

  “Well, think about it. The Finals were already underway. Lots of people were trying to get in as replacements. I’d been on hiatus and… well, look at what they’re saying about Luckbane. He’s so much better than I am but he took a break, just like me. Nobody really knows why he dropped out, but he’s probably the best player in the game. Even so, now that he’s back people are already talking about how crazy he is for thinking he can get a spot in the Finals.”

  “Does he have a chance?”

  “Maybe. If anyone can pull it off, he can.”

  “So how did you managed to get signed by the Dreadknights?” Jones asked.

  “Mr. Diggs convinced me to take a stab at the Tower of Perpetual Peril to see if I still had what it takes.”

  “What’s that?”

  She scoffed. “I thought everybody knew about the Tower.”

  He shook his head.

  “It’s an unwinnable level. Your game death doesn’t count against you because it’s just a testing ground,” she said. “Gamers run the Tower for bragging rights. You know, to see how far you can get versus the other guys. Like the gauntlets some thieves’ rings run to test their members. I don’t think anyone’s ever made it to the top.”

  “No one?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. There’s supposed to be something really cool at the top, too. Anyway, I did a lot better than I thought I would. Really good, in fact.”

  “How good is really good?”

  “I got within the top five floors.” She couldn’t help grinning proudly. “It was crazy. The Tower just kept throwing all this stuff at me, but I was in the zone, you know. But like I said, no one beats the Tower. I got fragged by a mirror monster.” She shrugged and grinned. “Anyway, I guess word got around because next thing I know Trollbogies is sending me an invitation to sign with the Dreads. The rest is history.”

  Jones stared at her for a moment, until she started to grow uncomfortable again. The guy was seriously creepy.

  “Did you and Mr. Diggs discuss Guild Wars often?” he asked at last.

  “I guess. I mean, we ta
lked about work, but we really didn’t have anything else in common. So, yeah, I suppose so.”

  “Were you two friends?”

  “I don’t know. Kind of.”

  “Kind of?”

  “Like I said, he was more of a fan, I guess.”

  “He was a gambler. Did you know that?”

  “Um, no,” she said. “Well, he did say he had a lot of money riding on the Gears match.”

  “The Guild Wars match you played before he died.”

  She hesitated. It was almost starting to sound like Jones thought she had something to do with Oscar’s death. “Y-yes, but that’s the only time he ever said anything like that. Again, I just thought he was a fan. Isn’t that something game fans do?”

  Mr. Jones sighed. “Actually, I’m starting to think he saw you as more of an investment than a fan. Tell me, have you received any strange Vmails from the late Mr. Diggs?”

  “Um, no.”

  He considered her for a moment and then nodded. “I see. In that case, you may see yourself out.”

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  17 – LEVEL UP

  In the hours leading up to the interview Christine’s excitement slowly but surely transformed itself into paralyzing fear. All she could think about were the zillion ways she could screw it up. In front of billions of people. Level Up was one of the universe’s most popular game commentary shows. It was the type of high-level exposure that could make or break a player… something Trollbogies had been drilling into her head for the past twenty minutes as they waited in the Dreadknights’ virtual guild hall. Christine was still considered a minor at seventeen, so she had to be accompanied by either her mother or her guildmaster during official GameComm-related interviews.

  “Before we get in there, you should know that getting an interview with Eddie Mondo is like having a dragon by the tail,” Trollbogies warned. “It can be a fun ride, but he’s been known to get hungry. He may act like a maniac, but he’s as shrewd as they come. Don’t let him get the scent of blood.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It means that Eddie is a genius, but he has a nose for drama.” She smiled. “You know what? I’m probably just being a paranoid old woman. Just follow my lead and have fun, OK?”

  Christine nodded.

  At long last, the scene changed and they found themselves on the set of Level Up. The familiar faces of Eddie Mondo and Circe Maximus appeared at the other end of a short table. The wall behind them displayed the show’s familiar set design.

  “OK, so, hi, I’m Eddie Mondo,” Eddie said, shaking her hand. Eddie was one of those game commentators who played a character, which was a pretty good strategy if you wanted to be able to do interviews within the game itself. GameComm wouldn’t let you do that sort of thing in realworld clothes, but a froggish hobgoblyn like Eddie was always welcome. Circe Maximum was also in character, dressed in her scandalous gladiator-slash-magus outfit. Professionally speaking, Christine didn’t find her outfit to be all that practical for combat.

  “Ogress Bloodskull,” she replied. “I’m a big fan of the show.”

  “Oh, I just love her,” Eddie said. “Not what I expected at all from your livecasts. This… this is even better. Tell me you’re wearing ruby slippers. You are, aren’t you? In your heart I mean.”

  Christine raised an eyebrow. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s probably best not to. Master Trollbogies,” her guildmaster said as she took Eddie’s hand in turn.

  “Oh please,” Eddie said. “Don’t act like we’re not old friends, Olivia. How’ve you been lately? Still in remission I hope.”

  Trollbogies smiled tightly. “That’s off the record, Eddie, but yes. Speaking of which, I need to remind you, legally speaking, that Christine is a minor, so her personal life is also off-limits.”

  “Ouch!” Eddie said, raising his hands in mock surrender.

  “He’s teasing you,” Circe said. “Can we try to be professionals today, Eddie?”

  “What? We’re old friends? Are you all formal and professional with your friends?” He scoffed and placed his hand to his mouth, adding in a conspiratorial whisper, “She’s actually much cooler off the clock.”

  “I heard that Eddie,” Circe said. She turned to Trollbogies with a very professional smile. “This will be a short interview. Luckbane’s return has forced us to change up our agenda today. Having said that, we are very interested in hearing about your take on the Dreadknights’ chances of winning Guild Wars. Eddie’s been teasing it all week, so we expect a good show in the ratings.”

  “So a standard buzz slot with no surprises,” Trollbogies said, looking at Eddie. “I like it.”

  “What’s a show without a few surprises?” Eddie asked with a grin. “Me? I love surprises. And so does everyone else. Just look at the way people are reacting to the return of Jarrod Seventhborn.” He waved his arms dramatically. “Just as mysteriously as he vanished, Luckbane is back and ready to make his bid for the Impworld Finals! He’s terribly behind, of course. No idea how he intends to pull it off and that… that is what has people everywhere talking.” He took a breath, beaming widely, his chest heaving. Then he blinked as if something disturbing had just crossed his mind. He waved his hand as if to brush it away. “Anyway, Rogar Thunderhammer will be joining us right after your segment to talk about what he and Jarrod might have in mind. It’ll be so slaughter.” He was so pleased with himself that he began purring. “Say, I have any idea. Why don’t you two join me as a guest panel for that segment?”

  Circe frowned. “Our itinerary is already pretty well stuffed. I’m not sure that’s –”

  “Oh, stuff yourself!” Eddie snapped. “I swear if you didn’t fill out that outfit so well, I’d find another co-host yesterday. We can’t live our lives by tight schedules and programs and professional protocols. That’s not how you run an award-winning, uber popular gamer commentary show like Level Up! You have to adapt with the flow of the game and the game is always changing, Circe!”

  Circe sighed and looked at him with the expression a teacher gives a naughty preschooler. “You can’t fire me,” she said. “This is what the board wants. Only they can fire me.”

  “Well, this is what Eddie Mondo wants! I built this show from nothing! I don’t need a handler!”

  Christine looked at Trollbogies, not really sure how to react. The troll rolled his eyes and shook his shaggy head.

  “You really want this?” Circe asked.

  The hobgoblyn stared at her, eyes bulging.

  “Are you holding your breath?” she asked. “OK, fine. Would you two like to stay for the Luckbane segment?”

  Christine looked at Trollbogies. Trollbogies shrugged.

  “I’d love to meet Rogar,” Christine said, not bothering to cover her excitement.

  “OK then!” Eddie said. “Let’s do this!”

  “We have still have two minutes,” Circe said.

  “Oh for crying out loud!” Eddie Mondo yelled.

  Two minutes later, the well-known musical theme of Level Up sounded the beginning of the show and an end to Eddie’s bouncing leg under the table.

  “Hello, I’m Eddie Mondo!” their host crowed.

  “And I’m Circe Maximus.”

  “And it’s time to Level Up! Today’s show will rock your socks off! Not only do we have the rising star of the Dreadknights of Outland!” He paused for a boisterous interruption of canned applause. “Yeah! Yeah! Right? Ogress Bloodskull is here! And that’s not all. Everybody’s talking about it. What am I talking about? What everybody else is talking about, of course: the return of Jarrod Seventhborn. The Luckbane. And we’re not just talking to anyone about this. Oh no! We’re gonna talk with his long time bestie, Rogar Thunderhammer about what they’ve got in store!”

  More canned applause.

  “So stay glued to this station. Put everything else on pre-record,” Circe said, beaming, “because now is the time to Level Up! And remember, when you need to Le
vel Up at home, at school, at work, wherever, grab yourself a bottle of Pure! Shouldn’t the water you drink be Pure?”

  “Our first guest has seen her share of attention in this year’s Guild Wars. Have you been keeping up with Guild Wars, Circe?” Eddie asked.

  She nodded. “You can’t keep me away! So, so much is riding on the Guild Wars finals this year. The guild who wins, not only gets the crown and the glory, but a chance to play their characters live and in-person on Tarak.”

  “There’s a lot of good guilds battling for supremacy, but the Dreadknights of Outland have been really getting everyone’s attention in the past couple weeks. The team’s always been strong. It’s one of the few guilds that can boast over 40% of its original roster,” Eddie Mondo said, “and I happen to know that a good bit of their success as a team falls to the fact that they have a strong guildmaster. Please welcome to the show, a good friend of mine, Master Trollbogies of the Dreadknights of Outland!”

  More canned applause. Christine had always assumed there was an actual audience making such noise when she watched the show nodally. In fact, you had the option of viewing the show as if you were sitting in the studio audience. Apparently a good portion of these shows were just smoke and mirrors.

  Trollbogies stroked his long beard and grinned savagely as he waved to the non-existent audience. Christine was forced to stifle a laugh at the thought of Olivia Ziegler with a trollish beard. Trollbogies shot her a warning glance.

  “You must be pretty happy with how the Dreads are positioned this year,” Eddie said.

  “Doomsmack is the only guild that stands in our way. They’re an all-ogre crew. They’re gonna be tough to beat, but the Dreadknights are ready.”

  “Well spoken,” Eddie said. “Our other guest during this segment is Ogress Bloodskull!” Christine dutifully waved to the viewers during the canned applause.

  “Wow!” Eddie said, sizing her up. “You’ve really put a beating on the competition since you joined the Dreads. You were responsible for half of the kills during your match with the Golden Gears. I have to admit, that is impressive, especially after just coming back from hiatus like that.”

  “Um, thank you,” she said.

  “No need to be demure, although I do find that quite charming. You did your guild proud! I’ll be honest, until you decided to run the flag, I thought the Gears had you guys. Then you came along like gangbusters and you just would not stop! No matter what they threw at you. Kamizooki. Ninjeremy. Tank. Billhilly Bullroar. Sir Equinoxious the Bloody. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “To be fair, everyone was kind of after me because we ran the flag. Killmore managed to get two in. Tauvek got another.”

  “And Goldenboy got one for us too,” Trollbogies said, laughing.

  “Right!” their hobgoblyn host said, slapping his knee. “A good showing by the Dreads overall. No doubt about it. But if you keep up at this rate, do you think it’s possible that you might eclipse Killmore’s guild record?”

  Trollbogies frowned.

  “I’ve only been with the Dreadknights a little while, but I can tell you this,” Christine said. “We constantly push each other, sharpen each other, make each other better.”

  “What she’s saying is that Killmore can hold his own,” Trollbogies said.

  “We’re a team. He had my back when we fought Raiden Tesla and there again in the Fire Fields when Auric and his boys had me surrounded. I wouldn’t even be talking to you if he hadn’t,” Christine said.

  “Well spoken,” Eddie said. His smile did not quite reach his eyes.

  “So what do you think your chances are against Doomsmack?” Circe asked.

  Trollbogies scoffed. “I think we’re going to crush –”

  “Did you go through some sort of special training during your hiatus, Bloodskull?” Eddie asked.

  “Um, what?”

  “As I understand it, you were a former member of Doomsmack. Is that right?”

  Christine nodded. “I was.”

  “But you left Guild Wars for a while to play the Prometheus Initiative and only returned recently. Do you think your cross platform experience has improved your gaming skills overall?”

  Christine shrugged. “Maybe. Playing another game does force you to approach things differently. I played an electrokinetic in the Prometheus Initiative. It’s a totally different skill set, but fun in its own way.”

  “But how did you keep from losing your edge as an ogre warrior? Did you always intend to return to Guild Wars?” Eddie asked.

  “I dunno. When I quit Doomsmack, I just needed a break I guess. As for the Prometheus Initiative, I enjoyed playing Wacky Jackie but my heart is in Impworld. Trollbogies picked up my free agent bid. The rest is history.” She paused and looked him in the eye. “As far as losing my edge as Ogress Bloodskull, I don’t think that’s possible. When I’m Bloodskull, I’m who I’m meant to be. I dunno. Something just clicks. Besides I wasn’t gone that long and it’s not like I wasn’t playing somewhere in the GameComm multiverse, right? I think the guys who lose their edge are the guys who quit altogether.”

  “So what about Luckbane then? Do you think he’s lost his edge? Is this a pipe dream he’s asking us to believe in, the idea that he could just come back at the eleventh hour and seize his place in the Impworld Finals?”

  “With all due respect, Jarrod Seventhborn is an Epic level player. Jarrod and his pals formed the White Hand simply to have the chance to keep playing the game they loved at a level that still challenged them without watching all of their lower level comrades fall like autumn leaves in the process. Luckbane, Harper Angelos, Rogar, Copper… all of them wanted to adventure alongside equals.” She shook her head. “I don’t think you can get that good and lose your edge in any way that would matter to the rest of us.”

  Eddie smiled. “You sound like a fan. Did you come out of the White Hand split with Team Copper or Team Jarrod?

  “Actually, I’m more of a Harper Angelos fan. Harper was my inspiration for playing the game.”

  “Now that’s interesting,” Eddie mused. “At first glance, you two couldn’t be more different. She’s a beautiful angel-winged Valkyrie. You’re a monstrous face-painted ogress. What part of Harper appealed to you?”

  “You don’t think Bloodskull is beautiful?” she asked with an impish smile.

  “I didn’t – wouldn’t say that.”

  “They’re both powerful women,” Circe said with a respectful nod of her head.

  “Exactly, she’s powerful, popular and beautiful. Who wouldn’t want to be her?” Christine asked.

  “So why an ogress? Why not an Icarri like your muse?” Eddie asked. “Do you feel powerless in your real life in some way perhaps?”

  “Her personal life is off limits,” Trollbogies reminded him tersely.

  “What? Oh, right? My mistake. Fortunately, the live cast is on a delay for just this reason. I’ll just cut that bit out,” Eddie said, “and we’ll just pick it up from… Why not an Icarri like your muse?”

  “I dunno. Being an Icarri would’ve been amazing, but like I said, there’s just something about Bloodskull that clicks.”

  “You know what would be fun? We should have her on the show the next time we have Harper on! Get these two great souls together,” Eddie said. “Better yet, would you like to meet a member of the fabled White Hand right now?”

  “S-sure,” Christine said. Hadn’t they already talked about this?

  “Well, you’re in luck, Bloodskull,” Eddie said, “because Rogar Thunderhammer has agreed to be on the show for our next segment. How would you two like to stick around and meet him? Maybe ask him a few questions?”

  “We’d love to,” Trollbogies said.

  “OK then, folks, Level Up will be back in just a moment with more of the Dreadknights and Rogar Thunderhammer, too!”

  “And cue commercials,” Circe said. “You can all relax for a few minutes while we wait for the next segment to begin.”


  Christine nodded, but her focus was on a new arrival to the virtual studio set. Rogar Thunderhammer had arrived.

  [Back to Table of Contents]