1033 hours
“So… what in the hell is going on?”
Kendra and Xavier sat in a com room not fifty feet down the corridor from gaming central. Xavier’s eyes glittered like little acetylene flames. He swung his feet from the edge of his chair like a petulant gnome who considered a human’s death to be little more than a personal inconvenience.
“What’s going on is that my game is in suspension,” Xavier said.
“Excuse me,” Kendra interjected, fighting to keep her voice level. “A man is dead, apparently during an attempted assault. Chris Foxworthy was sealed incommunicado in his room by some kind of override device. Despite this, he apparently checked into your game.”
Leonard Cowles III was the on-site arbiter for the International Fantasy Gaming Society. He had been here for over a month now overseeing the final construction, recruiting gamers, coordinating travel, publicity and expenses. Happily, this was his headache. “Please,” he said. “Slow down. Ms. Griffin, you said that this man Victor Sinjin was found dead… but that some time between the time of death and the discovery of the body, someone using Foxworthy’s identification checked into the gaming area?”
“Yes.”
Cowles’ mouth flattened into a thin line. “And what do you conclude?”
“I don’t know. I just know that we have to stop the game so we can search the gaming area.”
“Wait just a minute,” Xavier said. “So one of my NPCs was assaulted, and killed his assailant. And someone still used his ID to get into the game, somehow. I can understand your concern. But we can’t just shut the whole thing down right now. Four hours and we quit for the night. Then you can tear the whole thing apart: We’re off the clock.”
“I’m not sure that you understand. This is a murder investigation.”
“And that dome is private property, by the terms of our lease with Cowles Industries,” Xavier said. “I want this cleared up as much as anyone, but we have a worldwide audience exceeding a billion people. Are you aware of the web of finances necessary to connect a billion people? The obligations I’ve incurred? Do you have any idea of the lawsuits I will be exposed to, if this game is delayed by more than a few seconds?”
“I’ll take personal responsibility,” Kendra said.
“It’s not that easy,” Cowles said. “The liability negotiations were especially intense from my family’s side of the table. The only way the board of supervisors would ratify the deal is if the IFGS assumed all responsibility for what happened in the dome from the time the doors locked until the conclusion of the game. The dome has its own battery bank and communications, the gaming system is on a separate link from everything else. This was your choice, please remember.”
Kendra thought she was going to scream. She saw where this was headed, and didn’t like it at all.
“You’re telling me you think I have no authority to search the dome?”
“I’m telling you that the repercussions are huge. My family has made a large chunk of its name in the entertainment industry, which is why I’ve taken personal responsibility in this matter. What you propose to do now could risk its relationship with the IFGS, and gaming worldwide. Do you want to make that decision?”
“I do. My husband is in that dome,” she said.
“All the more reason to assume that things are secure,” Cowles said. “All we’re asking for is four hours.”
“Four hours,” she said. “A lot can happen in four hours.”
“I’m afraid that I insist on the right to appeal to my board of directors.”
“As on-site chief, I have the ability to make decisions-”
“And if the dome actually belonged to Cowles at this moment, that might make a difference,” Leonard Cowles said.
“Four hours.” Kendra drummed her fingers against the table. “In all good conscience, I cannot allow this.”
“It is not your decision to make.”
Kendra felt a burning sensation on the left side of her head, deep behind her ear. Dammit. The air in front of her rippled. “Ms. Griffin?” Stan Linberg said urgently. “There is a news bulletin that you might want to see. Now.”
Something was very very wrong, even worse than she currently dreamed, but she couldn’t detect the shape of it. It crawled her scalp. Bad times coming.
The air rippled, and a newsfeed appeared, an Asian newsman reading from a teleprompter as images of explosions in some tropical country played in the background.
“-death in the Republic of Kikaya, where rebel forces hold both international airports and the major communications facilities after a lightning raid in the early morning hours. King Abdul Kikaya, the last remaining monarch in sub-Saharan Africa, has responded swiftly. Paralysis among his troops suggests that there has been a deep penetration of his military chain of command, and-”
“Cut,” she said, and the image froze. “All right, Stan, this is bad news for someone. Why me?”
“Because… at least one of the gamers is playing under an assumed name, and his point of origin is the Republic of Kikaya. We have investment capital from the republic, and… we actually have two workers from the republic here at Heinlein.”
“Really?” That raised her eyebrows. She knew of several Central African workers among her people, but didn’t remember any from Kikaya.
“Yes. They’re naturalized American citizens, but I remember some conversation about them. They stand out because they’re twins.”
“Twins?” That raised a memory. “Thomas, maybe?”
“Yes, and Doug. They were supposed to cycle back to Earth, but both extended their tours. Anyway, because of those connections, when I was going through the gamer list I saw the red flag and looked closer. There was a secret of some kind there, and I admit I dug into it.”
She felt like a cold lump of rotten cottage cheese was sitting in the pit of her stomach. Something bad was coming. “And?”
“And the participant traveling as ‘Ali Shannar’ is actually Prince Ali of Kikaya, heir to the throne.”
“Shit,” she said. She looked up at Xavier and Cowles. “And what do you make of that?”
“Ms. Griffin. I am sorry to hear of instability in the Republic of Kikaya, but that is an unstable region, I believe. What possible connection can it have with events a quarter-million miles away?” Spreading his hands in supplication, Cowles seemed the very soul of reason.
“Xavier?” she asked. “You are Game Master, and if you gave permission, we could elongate the break time, and do a sweep of the dome-”
“Let’s not,” he said. “Most of the dome is already under observation. Patch in the security cameras to the gaming units, and create a full dome image. I’m sure our missing player will turn up.”
“And with a perfectly reasonable explanation,” she said. She sighed, and stood. “Well, I’m afraid that you’re right: The IFGS controls that dome for the next three days. But when I can get that board meeting, our lawyers are going to look at that contract.” Kendra placed her hands flat on the table and locked eyes first with Cowles, and then Xavier. “But you’d better pray that there’s nothing wrong in there.”