Multiplayer (16 page)

Read Multiplayer Online

Authors: John C. Brewer

Tags: #racism, #reality, #virtual reality, #Iran, #Terrorism, #young adult, #videogame, #Thriller, #MMORPG, #Iraq, #Singularity, #Science Fiction, #MMOG

BOOK: Multiplayer
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While he tried to keep a low profile, these soft targets just became too tempting. By the last day of his suspension he was setting booby traps, and laying mines. He’d then lure the ramshackle police force into following him where they would either fall into his traps, or he would move into a concealed position and pick them off one by one like fish in a barrel. The body count he racked up was shocking; nearly 60. Fun wasn’t exactly the word Hector would have used to describe it. More like, satisfying.

Of course, he wasn’t supposed to be playing at all. His mother had strictly forbade him, and checked his account every day to see if he had been. But an online forum of tips and tricks showed Hector how to modify the history files stored on his console using a shareware hex editor from his computer. And his deception worked well. His mom was satisfied with his diligence in “studying” during the two days of his suspension, and agreed he could have some friends over to celebrate the lifting of his exile from
Omega Wars
.

Ω

It was Friday night and Hector glanced around the bonus room to make sure everything was in place. Funny, he’d never cared whether the place was trashed before. The doorbell rang and Hector ran to the door. He opened it to find Sabrah standing there with merlot lips and skin the color of a full moon. Her ear glistened with costume jewelry and a tiny crystal sparkled in the hollow of her perfect little nose. He tried to see past the disguise to the naturally attractive girl he’d spent the morning with a week ago, but saw only her monochromatic avatar.

“Hi,” she said plainly, and he let her in. “So this is your house?” She looked around and then smiled, bringing back a glimmer of that sunny morning. “It’s really comfortable feeling. Lived in. I like it.”

Hector shrugged, knowing there must be more to it. “Well, we do live here.”

Just then Pappous appeared from the kitchen and his cheeks and eyes creased into a million lines as a smile took over his entire face. “I’m Hector’s grandfather, Leonidas Kostakis,” he said jovially. “You can call me Pappous if you like. Or Leo. What’s your name, young lady?”

The doorbell rang again. Hector left Sabrah in the care of Pappous and went to answer it. Deion and Tyra were waiting outside. Tyra was gorgeous as always with dark, willowy limbs, long, straightened, luxuriously black hair, and a smile that seemed to sparkle off the cover of
Vogue
. Deion followed her around like a puppy.

Just as they were coming in, Chaz crossed the street and Hector frowned. His skin, like Sabrah’s, was almost luminous and his red hair glowed ruby under the tangerine light of the sodium-vapor street lamps, but Hector was stuck by the fluidity of his movement. He’d never thought of Chaz as athletic, but his movements were almost cat-like.

“What’s up, Hec,” he announced, as he jogged up. “Haven’t see you in a while.”

As he went through the door, Hector couldn’t help but be caught off guard by Chaz’s build. He was taller than Hector remembered with broad shoulders, and not nearly as Goth-like as Sabrah. Sabrah took pains to color her skin white, but Chaz was merely dressed in dark clothes and had naturally pale skin. He’d grown since Hector had last seen him.

While Hector was getting everyone settled, Mom came to the door of the bonus room and motioned him out. He followed her down the hall to her bedroom where she had the news playing on a small television; footage from somewhere in the Middle East. The instant she turned around, he knew something was wrong. “What? I cleaned up like you asked.”

“What is the meaning of this?” she hissed with fire in her eyes. “Chaz Martin? He’s nothing but trouble. That’s why they pulled him out of your school, you know. And I don’t know who that girl is, but she looks awful. Probably has her tongue pierced. And that hair! What is she, some kind of meth addict?”

“They’re just … gamers,” Hector said, feeling like he’d been punched in the gut. He’d wanted to say ‘friends’ but he wasn’t entirely comfortable with Chaz either. Still, Chaz was a Spartan – part of his clan – so he had to stick up for him. And Sabrah was… well… nice.

“What would your father say about such friends?”

“He wouldn’t judge them by the way they look,” he spat back, knowing it was true. His dad always said people were all the same and what mattered was on the inside, and Hector believed him – mostly.

“Don’t get smart with me,” his mother shot back.

Hector fought to control his temper, and took a different approach. “Sabrah makes really good grades, Mom. She doesn’t use drugs. She never gets in trouble. And her tongue isn’t pierced. At least, I don’t think it is. She’s really, really quiet. Her parents just divorced and I think she uses the game as an outlet. Sort of like me.”

It didn’t work. His mother shook her head quickly. “I don’t want you hanging around her. Or that Martin boy. They’re trouble. Both of them.”

“You want me to kick them out?” Hector snapped, and moved toward the door. “I’ll go tell them to leave right now.”

“No. But they don’t have to come back!”

“I’m sure they won’t want to after I tell them about this,” said Hector, and stormed down the hall.

“Don’t you dare!” his mom warned after him. He wouldn’t tell Sabrah or Chaz what his mother said, but not for her sake, but because it would be cruel to them. No matter what they looked like or had done, they didn’t deserve to be treated like that. Nobody did. A pang of guilt shot through him, but he pushed it down. Almost nobody did.

In the bonus room, Pappous was entertaining his friends as he always did – by telling stories from his youth. Hector had heard this one about five hundred times. “Anna was holding the goat by the tail, trying to keep it from falling down the well,” he was saying. “And I could hear it echoing out of the hole, ‘
baaa, baaa, baaa
.’ By the time we got the goat out, her nice white dress was covered in mud. Ruined. It was a long time before she let me forget that one!” Everybody laughed as he finished the tale. Hector’s eyes lingered on Sabrah and Chaz. Sure, they looked different. They did in the game too, but it didn’t matter there. Just one more reason video games were superior to real life. You could be yourself.

“I guess everyone’s here,” Hector said loudly, and turned on his game console. He paused, taking in the arrangement of bodies. Sabrah was sitting alone on the loveseat. Tyra was on the couch sandwiched between Deion and Chaz, who were competing for her attention. Hector rolled his eyes and she shrugged with a wry smile. The contrast between Tyra and Chaz couldn’t have been more stark; charcoal and ivory. Hector gladly seated himself next to Sabrah.

“Did you get the tech?” he asked Deion.

“Yup. He’s good,” Deion replied. “You are going to like him.”

“I hope so,” answered Hector. “Because we really need one. Just wish he lived around here.”

“He wouldn’t come anyway,” Deion told him. “He plays on a computer most of the time.”

Hector would prefer to know him, but it didn’t matter. If he was a friend of Deion’s, that was good enough for him. It was well-known that all the best techs used touch screens for fabricating.

Pappous was poking around on the Earth map feature of
Omega Wars
. “Truly amazing,” he said with his splendid Greek accent. “I would not have believed such a thing was possible when I was your age back in Greece. But I must leave you now. Goodnight, young people.”

“Oh, are you going?” asked Sabrah.

He smiled at her. “I’m an old man. I need my rest, and it is getting late.”

“We’re headed to Alanya,” said Deion. “Phase one of taking over the world. Sure you don’t want to hang around?”

Pappous laughed. “It worked for Alexander the Great. And I will see you all soon enough,” he said and excused himself.

As he was leaving, Helen pushed in with Shah and some friends. “We’re going to watch a movie,” she said in a commanding tone. “You’re going to have to find somewhere else.”

So it was bossy sister time, Hector thought. “We’re having a LAN party,” he fired back. “Mom already said it was okay. You’re going to have to find somewhere else.”

Helen opened her mouth to object when Shah said, “We can go over to my house. We got a seventy-two incher.” She closed her mouth and shot Hector a wicked look, then snorted and walked out. But Shah lingered for a moment. “
Omega Wars
, huh? Ever play with my brother?”

“I don’t think so,” said Hector dismissively.

“Hey, Shah,” said Sabrah. “Thank your mom again for helping me out the other day. She’s really nice.”

Shah smiled. “Sure. She enjoyed it, too. She said to come over any time.”

Hector looked back and forth between them thinking about what his mother had said a few minutes before. Sanjar’s mom accepted Sabrah without question. And
she
was the Muslim. His mom was the one who needed to grow up, not him.

“You should invite Sanjar,” Sabrah suggested when they’d gone.

“Do you remember what I told you at school yesterday?” Hector asked.

“You weren’t at school yesterday.”

“Exactly. But Sand-jar was.”

“That was your fault as much as it was his,” she scoffed.

“Then he should have gotten suspended, too. He didn’t. So no invite. Period. End of story.”

“Can we just get started?” snapped Deion. “We don’t need Sanjar.” Hector looked at him in surprise. “Wanna bag me some thorks,” Deion added, putting a grin on his face. More in character for his merc-playing friend.

Ω

Waking up in
Omega Wars
was the worst part for Hector. If your character had been killed while you were away, you were greeted with a grisly scene of a dead body crawling with maggots. Only then did you go into the replication tank. But their new base was fairly secluded and the Spartans had taken precautions. It was good they had. Two of the sentry mines had been tripped and there were dead thorks on the floor and in the water. In just a few moments, Izaak was waiting along with Darxhan, Veyron, Rada, T-Reg, c’Irith, and the Germans.

Deion sent his tech friend, Alkindi, a text message with the ID number of the slipgate replicator they’d moved from the basement. A moment later, he appeared from out of the darkness, a cyborg with pale skin and ocular implants over one eye. His left arm was entirely mechanical. A pointed beard covered his chin but his head was hairless and shiny, giving him a vaguely satanic appearance. All in all, Hector thought, a very cool looking character.

“Welcome to clan Spartans, Alkindi,” said Izaak, trying to act like he imagined his father would have behaved when meeting people. “Any friend of Darxhan is a friend of mine.” He introduced each of them, then asked, “Are you ready for the oath?”

“Oath?” said Alkindi. “Seriously?” Hector thought the voice was vaguely familiar, but couldn’t place it. Someone from school perhaps.

“We all took it,” said Darxhan dismissively.

“I thought it was pretty cool,” said Rada.

“It’s just for the game,” added Izaak. “Makes it more real.”

Izaak recited the oath and Alkindi repeated after him. “I will never betray a fellow Spartan or fail to give aid when a fellow Spartan is in need. I will give my best efforts to all quests of the Spartan Clan and will in return receive the same from my clan brothers and sisters.”

“Cool,” said Alkindi. “I like it! And I have something for you for inviting me to join.” He produced an object about as long as a ruler, and gave it to Izaak. It was like a narrow wedge with a small, circular disc at the point.

“What do I do with it?” Izaak asked.

“It’s armor,” said Alkindi. “Goes on your weak-side forearm.”

Hector added it to Izaak as an armor item and tapped out the button sequence to activate it. Instantly, the wedge sprang open from his forearm and expanded into a half circle of overlapping plates. A half-shield. Everyone called out in excitement about how cool it was.

“Activate it again,” laughed Alkindi. This time the shield expanded into a full circle. The background was a neutral gray-green that would blend in with almost any environment, but across the front was a deep-maroon, inverted ‘V’. Not shiny or particularly eye-catching, but clearly visible. “The Greek letter lambda,” said Alkindi. “The symbol of Lacedaemonia. Sparta. They had it on their shields, too.” The same button sequence sent it folding back into the tiny wedge-shaped vambrace on his arm. “Half open, you can use it with a two-handed weapon. Fully open, it gives great protection, but you can only use one-handed weapons.” Whoever this Alkindi was, Hector was already happy Deion had brought him in.

They set about transforming the old hotel into a proper base. Alkindi sent them into the town with a scavenging list and when they returned with cinderblocks and steel, he was already up on the roof setting up cameras.

Under his guidance, they walled off their ‘bedroom’ and installed a door with a code lock. Of course, determined enemies could always use explosives to blast it down, so they disguised it to look like the rock of the cave. As another layer of protection, Alkindi booby-trapped the door to explode if battered down. After that, the cyborg helped them get the sea doors open and then rigged up some gears to open them on command. He also started making plans to convert the nearby highway tunnel into a secure storage area for vehicles.

Izaak stood back in the cave looking out through the yawning opening. In the evening twilight, across a mile of water, he could see the Alanya peninsula and the wall that ran along the western rim, high above. Somewhere up there was his sniper rifle and a portable slipgate, and somehow they were going to have to get over there undetected. Land was just too dangerous, with the thorks, scarobs, and patrols. A boat would be hard to conceal on its approach across the water, and could easily give away the location of their base. Even at night, there were a host of
Omega Wars
technologies that could find them. If only …

“You know what would really be cool?” Izaak said. “A submarine.”

“A submarine?” exclaimed Alkindi. “Man, I’ve never built anything quite like that!”

“Do you think you could?”

Izaak was surprised when Alkindi didn’t say no. “I’d need a large tank for the pressure hull. An electric motor. Fusion cells. Some smaller tanks and pumps to use for ballast and trim. Control surfaces. And a way to navigate. A propeller could be hard to find. So, why do you need a submarine?”

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