Gameprey (2000) Read online

  VIRTUAL CRIME.

  REAL PUNISHMENT.

  TOM CLANCY’S NET FORCE®

  Don’t miss any of these exciting adventures

  starring the teens of the Net Force…

  VIRTUAL VANDALS

  The Net Force Explorers go head-to-head with a group of teenage pranksters on-line—and find out firsthand that virtual bullets can kill you!

  THE DEADLIEST GAME

  The virtual Dominion of Sarxos is the most popular war game on the Net. But someone is taking the game too seriously…

  ONE IS THE LONELIEST NUMBER

  The Net Force Explorers have exiled Roddy—who sabotaged one program too many. But Roddy’s created a new “playroom” to blow them away…

  THE ULTIMATE ESCAPE

  Net Force Explorer pilot Julio Cortez and his family are being held hostage. And if the proper authorities refuse to help, it’ll be the Net Force Explorers to the rescue!

  THE GREAT RACE

  A virtual space race against teams from other countries will be a blast for the Net Force Explorers. But someone will go to any extreme to sabotage the race—even murder…

  END GAME

  An exclusive resort is suffering Net thefts, and Net Force Explorer Megan O’Malley is ready to take the thief down. But the criminal has a plan to put her out of commission—permanently…

  CYBERSPY

  A “wearable computer” permits a mysterious hacker access to a person’s most private thoughts. It’s up to Net Force Explorer David Gray to convince his friends of the danger—before secrets are revealed to unknown spies…

  SHADOW OF HONOR

  Was Net Force Explorer Andy Moore’s deceased father a South African war hero or the perpetrator of a massacre? Andy’s search for the truth puts evry one of his fellow students at risk…

  PRIVATE LIVES

  The Net Force Explorers must delve into the secrets of their commanders life—to prove him innocent of murder…

  SAFE HOUSE

  To save a prominent scientist and his son, the Net Force Explorers embark on a terrifying virtual hunt for their enemies—before it’s too late…

  GAMEPREY

  A gamer’s convention turns deadly when virtual reality monsters escape their confines—and start tracking down the Net Force Explorers!

  DUEL IDENTITY

  A member of a fencing group lures the Net Force Explorers to his historical simulation site—where his dream of ruling a virtual nation is about to come true, but only at the cost of their lives…

  DEATHWORLD

  When suicides are blamed on a punk/rock/morbo website, Net Force Explorer Charlie Davis goes onto the site undercover—and unaware of its real danger…

  TOM CLANCY’S NET FORCE®

  GAMEPREY

  CREATED BY

  Tom Clancy and Steve Pieczenik

  written by

  Mel Odom

  BERKLEY JAM BOOKS, NEW YORK

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  TOM CLANCY’S NET FORCE®: GAMEPREY

  A Jove Book / published by arrangement with Netco Partners

  Berkley Jam edition / July 2000

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright © 2000 by Netco Partners.

  NETFORCE is a registered trademark of Netco Partners, a partnership of Big Entertainment, Inc., and CP Group.

  The NETFORCE logo is a registered trademark of Netco Partners, a partnership of Big Entertainment, Inc., and CP Group.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  The Penguin Putnam Inc. World Wide Web site address is http://www.penguinputnam.com

  ISBN: 1-101-00745-1

  BERKLEY JAM BOOKS®

  Berkley Jam Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Putnam Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY JAM and its logo are trademarks belonging to Penguin Putnam Inc.

  We’d like to thank the following people, without whom this book would not have been possible: Mel Odom, for help in rounding out the manuscript; Martin H. Greenberg, Larry Segriff, Denise Little, and John Helfers at Tekno Books; Mitchell Rubenstein and Laurie Silvers at Hollywood.com; Tom Colgan of Penguin Putnam Inc.; Robert Youdelman, Esquire; and Tom Mallon, Esquire; and Robert Gottlieb of the William Morris Agency, agent and friend. We much appreciated the help.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  1

  Strapped into her seat, settled comfortably in the cockpit of the sleek experimental jet, Madeline Green couldn’t help smiling as she felt the jet perform. “What do you think, Matt?”

  Matt Hunter occupied the rear seat of the two-man cockpit, serving as radio-equipment operator for the flight. Like her, he was dressed in a camouflage flight suit and full-face helmet. “This is a rush, Maj.”

  A grin spread across Maj’s face until it was so tight she thought she was going to sprain something. “It took nearly three months of programming to get it right.”

  “This is what you’re in Los Angeles to show?”

  “Yep.” At present Maj was in L.A., in an implant chair and connected to a computer in a downtown hotel room above the Exhibition Center she’d be attending tomorrow morning, Thursday. Matt was in Columbia, Maryland, where he lived, also logged on to the Net through his own computer. For the moment they were in her private veeyar in the flight simulator program that was her current pride and joy.

  “Mind if I try it?” Matt asked.

  Fliers always shared that enthusiasm, Maj knew, even if they had nothing else in common. “Sure. Say when.”

  “When.”

  “It’s yours.” Maj released the joystick.

  “Man, it’s got a lot of juice.”

  Matt guided the Striper from side to side, getting the feel of the big bird’s movement and power. The V-shaped wings wobbled up and down over the Painted Desert scenery below. Maj loved flying out over the desert and generally ran that program even though she had dozens of other terrain sims written into the Striper’s database.

  “Ready?” Matt asked.

  “Yeah.” Maj breathed out and relaxed in the form-fit seat, watching as the Striper’s nose lifted and the desert dropped away below. Almost between heartbeats, the view from the canopy switched to the blue sky, then deepened to the violet of the upper atmosphere. The mounting G-force shoved her deep into the cockpit seat. “Let me know if you pass out,” she jibed.

  “Right,” Matt snorted. “That’ll be me with the sudden sleepy sigh.”

  “Or if you fill your mask. That will be you with the big, bubbly gush.”

  “Not me. I was born to fly.” And Matt proved his point by bursting through the loop-the-loop a
nd immediately heeling into a series of right wingovers that dropped them furiously toward the desert deck below.

  Maj glanced at the altimeter, watching as thousands of feet melted away to just hundreds. “Hard deck’s coming up.”

  “The bird’s doing fine.”

  “It’s not the Striper I’m worried about,” Maj said. “It’s the nut behind the wheel.”

  Matt heeled over to the left and slotted the jet into a valley of stone. Sunlight glimmered briefly off the stream less than a hundred feet below. “Nice landscaping job.”

  “Thanks. Just make sure we don’t end up as part of it.”

  “Going up.” Matt cut power to the Striper’s afterburners and rolled gracefully out of the canyon, returning to the hard deck. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Maj, this is one killer program. Probably the best I’ve ever seen you build.”

  Maj squinted against the sun through the polarized canopy and helmet faceplate, trying to figure out a polite way to ask for the joystick again. Still, it felt nice that Matt was having such a good time with the jet. Maybe others would, too.

  Building flight-sims was a passionate hobby of hers, one that she’d put a lot of time into. She planned on showing the Striper flight-sim to game packagers, hoping that some of her time investment would pay off in either cash for college or a scholarship or sponsorship from a software corporation. She also liked a number of the computer games available online, which was another reason to take the trip to the gaming convention in L.A.

  When she spotted the black dot against the too-bright sun, Maj at first thought she was just seeing spots because the polarization of the canopy and helmet weren’t strong enough. However, what she saw was a spot, not spots, and that spot was continuing to get bigger. Matt held his heading, streaking toward the mass. “There’s a bogie at twelve o’clock,” she said.

  Matt paused. “I don’t read it on the instruments. I’ll level off.” The jet tilted, following his movements with the stick. “Do you know what it is?”

  “No.” And that was wrong. Maj had designed the aircraft and the environment; she should know everything in it.

  The Striper leveled, turning slowly as it overcame the powerful thrust. For a moment it looked as if Matt was going to miss it.

  Then the object dived, dropping down with a flap of huge, batlike wings, settling into a new glide path. In that instant Maj got a clear view of what the object was.

  Huge and majestic, the dragon filled the air before the Striper’s canopy. Mottled plum-colored scales covered the beast’s back, slightly lighter in color on the huge bat wings that were wider across than the creature was long, even counting the long spiked tail that whipped restlessly back and forth. Underneath, the scales took on the hue of aged ivory, a deep buttery alabaster with occasional brown spots.

  The dragon’s rectangular head was at least twenty feet long at the end of a long serpentine neck. Horns spiraled up from its head, and thorny projections that looked like hoarfrost lined its huge eyes and crinkled mouth. Emerald eyes, intelligent and sensitive and nearly three feet in diameter, stood out on either side of the broad head.

  Maj glanced at the dragon, somehow knowing if they slammed into it, the creature’s thick hide would leave only broken splinters of the Striper. “Give me the stick.” She closed her hand around the joystick.

  “It’s yours.”

  Maj banked the jet, kicking in the afterburners.

  “No way!” Matt breathed hoarsely over the helmet radio. “Did you put that in the programming? It’s beautiful.”

  Maj silently agreed that the dragon was beautiful, one of the most elegant creatures she’d ever seen. But there was a problem. “I’ve never designed anything like that.”

  The dragon’s neck rolled in a serpentine motion, bringing the head around, revealing something on its back. The great wings spread and flapped, digging into the air as the right emerald eye fastened on the jet. The long jaws separated, revealing a mouthful of fangs.

  Bumping the vid-cam controls with her gloved finger, Maj increased the magnification. She had only a moment to recognize the human shape seated on the dragon’s back.

  Then a roiling, smoking fireball spewed from the dragon’s gullet and arced for the jet. The fireball’s impact shivered through the Striper and wrapped it in flames.

  Maj’s helmet beat against the seat as the Striper blew through the swirling mass of the fireball. Blue sky filled the horizon again, but flames stubbornly clung to the Striper. She triggered the fire-suppression systems.

  Pressurized jets released fire-retardant foam, creating a sudden snowstorm across the wings. A layer of frozen, dirty gray chemicals replaced the flames. Unfortunately, they also knocked out her left engine.

  “Flameout,” Maj warned, shutting down the other engine as they were yanked into a flat spin like the right wing had been nailed down. “I’ve got a dead stick.”

  “We can stay or go.”

  “Smart money says we bail.” Maj watched the view through the canopy change as they rolled over, totally out of control. But where she expected desert landscape below, there was now a huge forest that stretched out in all directions.

  “Feeling lucky?”

  “No.” Maj hooked a forefinger under the engine switches. “I’m feeling mad. If somebody hacked in here, I want to know why. Even if we logged back on after logging off, there’s no guarantees that the dragon and the guy riding him would still be here.”

  “Guy riding the dragon?”

  “Yeah. I saw him as we went over.”

  “I didn’t see anyone.”

  “If I get these engines to reignite,” Maj promised, “I’ll give you a close-up of the geekoid.” She gazed down at the forested lands below, close enough now to see the three large rivers that cut through them.

  “If there is a guy on that dragon—”

  “There is.” Maj waited for the Striper to finish flipping one more time. “And he’s crashing other people’s programs. The last time I checked, that was definitely illegal. Especially in my veeyar. Although this might not exactly be my veeyar anymore.”

  “What?”

  “That’s forest below, not desert. We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.”

  “I’ve been so busy searching for the dragon I missed that.”

  “Hang on.” Maj tripped the ignition switches. The jets flared white contrails suddenly, then she was shoved back into the formfit seat again and the joystick became responsive. “Yes.”

  “I’ve got your dragon,” Matt said. “Heading two-four-three.”

  Maj brought the Striper around to the right. She raked the sky with her gaze, noticing that it held different shadings. And two suns, one a red giant and the other a spot of blue slightly above it, were close to setting or rising to the south.

  She surveyed the damage the dragon’s fireball had done to the Striper. The silver paint was blistered and peeling, black in some areas. Tiny cracks threaded through Plexiglas windows that could take a direct hit from a 7.62mm rifle bullet. She didn’t know if the jet could take another fireball.

  She guided the Striper onto the dragon’s backtrail, overtaking the creature swiftly as the huge wings belled once more and seized the air currents. With a gentle touch she inverted the Striper, going upside down over the dragon’s broad back.

  “I see him,” Matt said.

  Even though she knew she’d briefly spotted the guy on the dragon’s back, Maj was relieved. And she was close enough now to see the surprised look that filled his face. But why, she wondered, would he look surprised? Hadn’t he crashed her system?

  “It didn’t work. They’re still there.” Gaspar Latke studied the polished crystal ball in his huge three-fingered hand. The crystal ball showed the images of the great dragon and its rider, as well as the jet fighter.

  “Try harder,” Andrea Heavener ordered.

  Latke’s fear and frustration vibrated inside his chest. Even firmly entrenched into the veeyar, he could feel his heart hammer
ing back in the implant chair back in the office Heavener had gotten for them. He had a hard time concentrating on anything while remembering how vulnerable his flesh-and-blood body was lying in that chair only a few feet from that woman.

  Heavener was a special operative for D’Arnot Industries. She worked in the real world, though, and stayed out of the Net as much as possible.

  “I’m coming out.” Latke straightened, standing thirty feet tall inside the veeyar. He was basically man-shaped, but the differences between him and anything human were substantial.

  Bright crimson skin stretched tight over a hard-muscled body that was nearly as wide as it was tall. The legs bent the wrong way, structured like a four-footed animal’s so the knees bent backward. The feet only held three toes, but they were prehensile and had shiny black talons instead of nails. A loincloth girded his hips, holding a massive double-bitted war ax. His head was triangular in overall shape, possessing two curved horns and a gash of a mouth filled with serrated teeth. The white-feathered wings folded neatly across his back looked incongruous, too delicate for the misshapen body.

  The proxy he’d chosen was native to the veeyar environment. He was a tera’lanth, one of the evil creatures in the realm who opposed the great dragon and its rider.

  “Why are you coming out?” Heavener asked.

  “I want to try to trace the two people inside Peter’s veeyar.” Gaspar strode to the center of Murof’s Cavern, glancing up at the walls where nearly a hundred other tera’lanth clung to stalactites like bats. They watched him with predatory slitted yellow eyes. If they knew he was an impostor, he knew they’d try to rip him limb from limb.

  “You can do it from inside there,” Heavener said.

  “No,” Gaspar said calmly. She’s a killer, he reminded himself. She doesn’t know that much about the Net or computer systems. “Whatever I do inside here can be traced by Peter if he checks later. And with that jet suddenly appearing out of nowhere, you can bet he’s going to check. This is his veeyar, not mine.”