Dragonfire
by David Rose
Copyright 2014 David Rose
Published by
Two Moons Books
License Notes
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and actions have either been invented by the author or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to real persons, whether living or dead, or to actual occurrences, is therefore necessarily and entirely coincidental.
Dragonfire
Newsnet - Millionaire computing tycoon Sam Hartman died suddenly yesterday at his offices in downtown Chicago. Death is believed to have been due to natural causes, although the medical examiner has not yet released an official report. He is survived by his daughter Catlin (23) and son Florian (20). Stock in Hartman's core company, Megaware Inc., dropped 35 points when the news broke, but stabilised when company officers released the details of a contingency management plan to steer the business through the transition period. Catlin Hartman, who is regarded as highly capable, is expected to inherit a controlling interest. Megaware's recent release, the immersive online computer game world Dragonfire, has been hailed as "the most intense gaming experience ever", and has topped worldwide charts for the past two months.
"Florian! Haven't you finished that Shadow spell for me yet?" Catlin's voice cut through the morning-after household hush, moments before she thudded Florian's bedroom door open, once again without knocking or asking.
Blearily Florian tried to focus on the brisk tall dark-haired figure of his older sister, the new head of the family, the heir. The girl in his bed moaned and groped towards him as he struggled to sit up, drawing the bedcovers around himself and partly exposing her. He needed to pee. Badly.
"Cat," he mumbled, "give's a chance." He shoved his blond hair away from his face.
Catlin flung a contemptuous blue-eyed glare at the hapless girl. "Another one? Never mind, it's nearly noon, and I'd hoped to get into Dragonfire with the new spell sometime today. Is it done?"
"Yeah, but I haven't finished testing yet. I was going to do that today."
"When?" She flashed back at him. "When you were done with your boozing, and your coke, and your girlfriends?"
"C'mon Cat, it was just a party. Fuck's sake, give us a break!"
"Yeah and if I don't keep on at you, you'd party till next week and then find some other way to waste your time. Where is it?"
"Needs testing still, I told you. Stick's in the laptop."
"I'll field-test it for you, and I'll tell you if it's ok. If it works, I'm going to take old Skullface down and then I'll be head of the Assassin's Guild. Today."
Florian let himself slump as his eyes closed. Click from the desk. High-heeled step, step, step. Megan was trying to snuggle up to him again. Thump as the door closed behind Catlin.
"Dammit, I need to pee," he grumbled as he pushed the girl off and stumbled towards the bathroom.
Catlin took the express elevator down to the office. She couldn't wait for playtime.
When he saw her coming, her PA Martin Foster jumped up with a handful of files. She sighed to herself. Today, just for today, it could all damned well wait.
"Martin," she called brightly, just as if he was the person she had looked forward to seeing all morning. "Thanks so much for handling the press - you did a great job!"
He smiled diffidently. "Miss Hartman, these need your attention today," he began, and as her expression registered with him he trailed off, "if you possibly can?"
"What are they? I have important plans for this afternoon."
"It's the letter from your father's lawyers, about the will, you said you wanted to get that at once,"
She interrupted him: "That'll keep till tomorrow, I already know what it says in outline. What else?"
"Then there's the Japanese franchise application, and the Pinnacle deal."
"Leave the franchise thing on my desk, I'll look over it tonight. We're still meeting tomorrow on that right?" Martin nodded. "Ok, and the Pinnacle offer we really need to get out asap, but look, Martin, you've got the experience to draft something that I can use as a basis for discussion. So why don't you do that for me and free me up for what I need to do, ok?" There was that thousand-watt smile again, and the little head tilt that was supposed to tell him how special he was to her. So did he really have a choice?
"Ok, Miss Hartman, I'll get right on it."
"Thanks Martin. You're invaluable."
And in spite of himself Martin couldn't help feeling appreciated.
Catlin went on through into her office, locking the door behind her. She wasn't about to be embarrassed by any uninvited intrusion, however well-meaning, that might find her at play instead of at work. And Dragonfire was such a fantastic experience.
For a moment her blue eyes sought the long view from her window, as she savored the anticipation. In this world she was a young woman, albeit wealthy, beautiful and confident. But in Dragonfire she was a man to be feared. And she enjoyed that rather a lot.
Her smile took on a steely look as she treasured the notion that no one, no one, knew that she had enticed Daddy into playing Dragonfire three days before. He'd been talking about how talented Florian was, really, and how if he would just grow out of his playboy phase he should be given a bigger role in the business. And as far as she was concerned that just wouldn't do. Not at all.
She alone had realised the broader possibilities in Dragonfire. Why else had she opted for the Assassin's Guild? When you had a computer game that totally immersed your consciousness in the game by reading the pattern of your mind and then inserting that as a program - yes an incredibly complicated program, but still a program - into the game memory, you became vulnerable in the game. And if something serious happened to your program in-game, there could be a serious problem with reloading you back into your flesh-and-blood brain. As Daddy had found out.
Oh, nothing so crass as a dagger through the heart; that would never have worked. There were protections for the human players against that sort of thing. In-game violence was limited to an in-game effect upon players. Players could be injured, even mutilated in the game, but when they exited and unplugged, their human bodies were untouched. Perhaps, researchers had found, there was some post-traumatic stress, especially when a player had actually been 'killed', but no physical harm had ever been experienced by a player of Dragonfire.
But a computer virus now, designed to attack and disrupt a player's personality program within the game - now that was inspired, and effective. Three days ago, Grayblade had shared an ale in the Boar's Head with the visiting Prince Kemal of Megiddo. That 'ale' the Prince had drunk was of course nothing more than a sub-routine of the game. And that particular glass of ale had included a subtly inserted virus which, given access to the 'Prince Kemal' program, had done some rather unfortunate things to Daddy's program. Which looked exactly like a stroke once she'd unhooked him from the chair and put him back behind his desk, artistically slumped. A stroke. So sudden, so unpredictable, so sad. So perfect.
But now, now for Skullface, as she called him, or Xentar, as he was known in-game. He was the head of the Assassin's Guild, and she wanted that position, that power, that fear of her in the game that made it so irresistible. She settled herself in the chair, and began connecting the leads. The Shadow spell: that would give her an un
beatable advantage.