Those couches in the salle-they must have been hooked up to a stand-alone system, Megan thought. 'It really is Alan's world. We're stuck in here-'
She looked down at the blackened form of Colonel Vojak.
And Walt Jaeckel might really be dead!
Megan wanted to recoil in horror as Alan stretched out a pleading hand to her. 'Why do you shrink back from me? Don't you realize the boon I offer you? You'll be my queen.'
'But you'll be our god, is that it?' She had to force the first words past a dry throat. But the more she spoke, the angrier she became.
'I've created a place where you'll never age. Remember what Burton-who was a fencer as well as a poet- wrote in the Kasidah. 'Hardly we learn to wield the blade before the wrist grows stiff and cold.' That will never happen with us.'
'As long as no one pulls the plug on the computers where you're playing out this fantasy,' she shot back.
The expression on Slaney's face didn't change, but the air seemed to get about ten degrees colder. No, there was a change. Faintly, then stronger and stronger, radiance began streaming from Alan's face, from his hands-it even seemed to seep through his clothes from the skin beneath, turning the heavy gray garments to a glowing white.
'You called me a god, foolish woman,' Slaney said in a rolling voice. 'In the bounds of this universe, that's true enough. Let all kneel to me!'
All around them the surviving nonrole-playing characters fell to their knees. The players with free will glanced at each other-and then the silence was shattered by the crash of a pair of matched Colts.
The heavy slugs from P. J.'s pistols didn't even seem to disturb the folds of Alan's clothing. Megan wasn't sure if they were disintegrated on contact, or if they just passed through.
'Damn,' P. J. said as his guns ran empty, 'I knew I should have sprung for some silver bullets.'
The rage on Slaney's glowing face was a fearsome thing to see. He turned on P. J., both arms raised.
'Those sweat stains don't help the godlike image,' Megan called, edging back toward the stairs.
Slaney halted in mid-gesture, peering under his arms.
'Made ya look!' Megan called over her shoulder.
She'd already grabbed P. J. by the arm as she plunged down the stairs.
From the way he was sagging, David should have fallen from the windowsill. But he seemed to be caught somehow. He was gasping in pain, scratching fruitlessly at something in the darkness. 'My leg!' he said hoarsely. 'Caught my leg!'
Leif dashed over, intent on helping his friend. But when he tried to reach through the window, his hand encountered a rough, splintery barrier. He pushed against it gently, and David almost toppled over on top of him.
The other boy cried out again in pain when Leif reached out with both hands to grab him. 'It hit me again.'
'Hang on to my shoulder,' Leif ordered. More carefully this time, he pushed at the invisible barrier.
No, not invisible. Just well camouflaged. It was a huge sheet of plywood, larger than the window opening and painted black. The bottom gave when he pushed against it, but there was more resistance the higher Leif reached.
'Nasty,' he muttered. Then he said to David. 'You want to get in or out?'
'Out-unless you know what just slammed into me,' David replied.
'It's a deadfall-a simple but very effective mantrap,' Leif said. 'Just a big-ass sheet of three-quarter-inch ply- board with a couple of hinges along the top end. Pull the free end up until it's parallel with the floor, prop it up with a piece of black-painted two by four, and the trap is set. The whole thing is invisible in the dark. When you started coming through the window, you banged into the prop, which fell. Then the sheet swung down, to smash into you.'
' 'Smash' is right,' David groaned. 'Now I know how the fly feels when the swatter comes swooping down.'
'So?' Leif repeated. 'Out or in?'
David leaned heavily on his shoulder for a moment, silent in thought. 'In,' he Anally said. 'Can't get any worse. And it's not as though I'll be able to run for it if things do get worse.'
'Brace yourself against me,' Leif warned. He pushed against the hinged sheet of plywood, loosening it from David's leg. 'If I keep holding this out of your way, can you swing your other leg up and around?'
'I can try,' David said.
It was a slow, painful business, but David managed to turn round on the window ledge and slide down inside. Leif could hear the hiss of pain as his friend shook up his injured leg on landing.
Some of the pressure against Leif's hands suddenly lessened. 'I've got it from down here.' David said. 'Do you have enough space to get in?'
Leif succeeded in squeezing through-at the cost of a couple of splinter-scratches. Once inside he and David let the deadfall swing flat against the wall. As Leif knelt over him, David leaned back against the wall. 'Go on,' he whispered. 'I'll be no help-except for calling in the backup.'
'Backup?' Leif echoed stupidly.
'Trying to get into this building may not be the most legal thing I've ever done,' David said grimly. 'But death traps aren't legal either, dammit. This is a case for the cops-and Net Force. I think Captain Winters will listen when I tell him where I am and what just happened to me.'
Leif could hear his friend fumbling in the darkness. 'I've got my wallet-phone,' David reported. 'And the captain's number is programmed in. Leif-go! Right now you're the only one who can keep Slaney from doing something stupid!'
That thought hit Leif almost as hard as the deadfall had hit David. He scrambled up in desperate haste, then forced himself to move slowly, deliberately. He pulled out a small pocket flashlight, checking for trip wires or other unpleasant surprises Slaney might have set up along the way.
He was lucky, or maybe the deadfall hadn't been Slaney's brainstorm. Anyway, Leif made it into the hallway without further incident. He walked down a hall and a flight of stairs. To his left, shadows deepened into the large open space that was the salle. Across the way was a closed door-but he could see a strip of light underneath.
Leif crept across the corridor and tested the knob. Unlocked. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the knob and threw the door open. He almost recoiled at the sheer bizarreness of the sight inside. Nine of the computer- link training couches were occupied. Eight of the occupants seemed to be under some sort of terrible tension-they twitched and jerked as if they were fighting to regain consciousness-but failing.
The tenth couch had just about been gutted. Circuitry and wiring had been pulled out from under the upholstery-and attached to Alan Slaney.
The handsome young man had taken off his shirt. Electrical leads had been taped to various points around his torso, to his neck, and to his head. The spots he'd shaved in his hair gave him a particularly unnerving appearance. He looked like the villain of a low-budget horror-holo, just escaped from electroshock therapy.
'It's over, Slaney,' Leif told him, coming forward. 'I know what's going on. Net Force is on its way-'
Slaney seemed only half-aware of him. Alan flung out his empty hand as if he were hurling something at Leif. When nothing happened, then Alan began to pay more attention.
'Keep back,' he slurred. 'Can't stop me.' Lurching to the wall, he yanked one of a pair of crossed swords from its place.
That was not a fencing blade, but the real thing. Leif recognized an Austrian dueling saber when he saw one. He stopped his advance, casting a quick glance to the wall at his right. A pair of straight-bladed sabers hung there as decoration. Leif darted over, pulling one free.
The sword made a solid weight in his hand. Wilkinson steel, an old cavalry blade.
Alan brought up his saber in the en garde position. 'Allezr he called, mocking Leif with the starting command from his disastrous duel against the French master.
But Alan didn't take the prissy position of the French saber school. He took the in-your-face stance of a Spanish sabreur, hand on hip-and point aimed right at Leif's eyes.
Leif stayed with the more modern Hungarian guard- offensive-defensive-but his fist, too, rested on his hip. His point kept moving, evading any attempt Alan made to establish contact between their blades.
