There were millions of dollars' worth of equipment on display in the three tiers of the expo hall. Security personnel roamed everywhere, alert for trouble.
She searched for a familiar face, and didn't see it.
Alex, where are you? Do you still work for Dream Park?
Do you think of me? Of Acacia? The fanfares here were for her alter ego, Panthesilea.
Arlan Meyers took the podium, way down at the other end of the hall. He was bald and lemony, with a thin, prissy mouth and a manner that suggested a life of library excitement. He had been one of the great Magic Users, and a driving power behind the IFGS.
'Testing is the image all right?' Arlan bowed his head to speak the words low, and then came up grinning again, greatly enjoying himself. The hologram system made of him a dumpy-looking thirty-foot giant. 'I would like to welcome everyone to the opening of the tenth biannual IFGS sweeps.'
Applause rippled through the crowd.
On the holoboard above the hall were betting lines on the teams, with every team member, his personal stats, and lifetime scores listed in full. Team organization strategies weren't there, but it was enough for the Vegas boys to establish odds in all of the major categories.
UC was the second-highest-rated team. First came Apple Computer, the team headed by the Troglodykes. Army was ranked third, and only because of their familiarity with War Games in the Gaming domes. General Dynamics would have been last, instead of Texas Instruments-Mitsubishi, but for the presence of Nigel Bishop. Bookmakers in Vegas and Atlantic City gave them a shot based on Nigel's presence alone. It was hard to fault their logic.
The IFGS had existed for sixty years, primarily as a brokerage house. They established rules and point- exchange protocols between the thousand separate and proudly independent Gaming groups around the world.
Does blitzkrieging a balrog in Brazil equate to slicing samurai into sashimi in Singapore? Ask the IFGS.
Game Masters, Loremasters, and the categories of Wizard, Warrior, Cleric, Thief, Scout, and Engineer were cross-referenced for hours of supervised play. Points could be earned by accumulating experience or taking standardised tests of mental and physical skill.
The results were integrated into a central processing system, and the rankings allowed players from different parts of the world, playing entirely different rules, to come together and enjoy each other's poison.
Oh, the infighting was dreadful! But the end result was worth it.
'…and a very special thanks to Travis Cowles,' Arlan said, 'grandson of Arthur Cowles, and presently Chairman of the Board of Cowles Industries. Travis?' winy, Acacia thought. At least he didn't glance down at notes. But his eyes flicked left, slow right, quick left: his notes were displayed on his glasses.
'We here at Dream Park feel that we owe you a debt. You helped keep the dream alive. You have supported us from the beginning. You helped us test the technology that sold the Barsoom Project to all the world…'
She spotted a watchful but unobtrusive security man. It was hard to read his broad oriental features, but he looked, she thought, concerned, uneasy. She pulled herself away from Nigel and went to speak to the guard.
His name badge said MITCH HASEGAWA. 'Mr. Hasegawa?'
His worried expression cleared immediately. 'Yes, can I help you?'
'I was wondering. I guess you know Alex Griffin?'
'Yes, ma'am.' His expression grew watchful. Protective?
Acacia looked inside herself, noted the spark of joy, and was happy that she could still feel it, that she wasn't too far along whatever path Nigel was leading her. 'He still the boss?'
'Sure.' His smile looked freshly pressed, folded, stuck neatly into place. Acacia felt uncomfortable again.
'So if I just rang him up, you think I could talk to him? I used to have his personal line. He changed it.'
'Sure.' His eyes had already focused beyond her, as if there was something infinitely interesting just over her shoulder.
Acacia's skin crawled. Something wrong here. He wasn't playing the game. Dream Park Security interacted well with Gamers. Alex Griffin had Gamed himself, once, a lifetime ago. He may have continued. She'd shared his bed, and his life, a little; she'd known the security people…
Not this one. Hasegawa was new, or moved in from outside. But he didn't respond to her as a Gamer, a customer, a woman, a person. Coolly polite. Flinched at the Griffin's name. Why?
In a Game she would have tiptoed out with extreme caution and waited to learn more. Here… She excused herself politely and wandered back into the crowd, looking for Nigel.
He was swamped in the middle of a crowd of autograph hounds. She watched him, his black face shining, laughing, in total control.
'Representing the Army team, we have Major Terry Clavell,' Meyers said. 'Major?'
They loomed gigantic above the stage-Clavell was small, dark-haired, and wiry but not bulky. Give him a few pounds and he would have looked a little like Napoleon. He might easily have been mistaken for a desk warrior were it not for the messianic intensity of his eyes.
'Good evening,' he said. 'I would just like to assure you, especially those of you on the Armed Forces Network world wide, that I will uphold the honor of my regiment. We invented war games. These… civilians… don't know what they're up against.''
' 'Cacia!'
Now that was a familiar voice! Acacia turned just in time to miss being blindsided by a ball of muscle and wrinkled skin, about four feet one of solid energy.
'Mary-em! '
'The very.' Mary-Martha Corbett scanned Acacia approvingly. 'I see you've put on a few curves, girl. Playing to the crowd? '
'Aiming at the big time! I didn't know you were here. You're not on the big board.'
Mary-em lowered her voice, forcing Acacia to bend almost double. 'Traveling incognito. Nakagawa-san is nervous about security. Wants to keep everyone off balance. It's been, what five years?'
'Since the Diskworld Game. Ah… Hamburg.'
'Umm-hummm.'
Acacia savored the sight of Mary-em and the memories of three Games they had played together. She was an enemy this time out. It didn't matter. When all was said and done, one got points by destroying one's enemy, but made money by cooperating to make the best holovid possible.
She searched her memory. 'How's your brother…'
And knew immediately. The little woman's face fell. Deprived of the outflow of maniac energy, she showed her age. She must be in her sixties now. In mountain-climber shape, to be sure, but still a woman on the verge of serious retooling. Would Mary-em have the money for that?
'Patrick died two years ago, spring,' she said. 'I'm sort of dedicating this Game to him.'
'That's wonderful,' Acacia said. There was a swirl of crowd, and she was suddenly surrounded by eager hands with tabs and slates. She began signing signatures as quickly as she could, aware that she was being separated from her friend.
'Mary-em. See you in the Game!'
Mary-em raised a stocky arm and fist, and the sadness was gone. Not submerged or hidden, but genuinely gone, and Acacia was filled with warmth for the little woman, as if she were a symbol of a simpler time, before Acacia had become Panthesilea.
Before Nigel Bishop.
It was another hour before Acacia could sneak out of the hall, into a service elevator, and back to the room she shared with Nigel.
She sealed the door behind her and panted, relieved.
Nigel's computer was still on. The security files would be closed, but she didn't need those. He had shown her how to activate the High Pass program, invading the simplest levels of Dream Park Security without chance of trace-back.
Some of the channels were broadcast rather than directline. The computer picked out the right frequencies, unscrambled them, and let her sort. She queried: ALEX GRIFFIN?
The computer scanned. Within twelve seconds the program found the name 'Alex' in a conversation. Then
