Larry Niven - The California Voodoo Game

The carcasses of the zombie crocs floated, partially eaten away by salt. In places the water had drained almost to the floor. Chairs, tables, and ancient lighting fixtures rose up like ghosts of the deep.

In the deeper water, the seven surviving Nommo swam back and forth, or crawled painfully onto furniture in their human form, shivering with exhaustion. They had lost much manna, and they knew it. The black-white woman who had lectured the Gamers seemed to be deep in shock.

Above them, at the eleventh floor, dozens of beach people stared down at them, faces paled with fear.

One of the Nommo danced upright and spoke to them. "The Mayombrero are more powerful than we dreamed," he said. "They have learned to feed the Ethereals power from the reactor. They have learned necromantic secrets beyond our knowledge. They will cut off our water, and we will die."

"No," Griffin said, surprised to hear his own voice. "We can get through them and shut down that reactor long enough to weaken their creatures. Would that give you the opportunity you need?"

Bishop's contempt was a pressure on Alex's skin. He said nothing and Alex thought he had a point. I'm an NPC, dammit. Let them play.

Several of the Nommo consulted. Then they turned back. "That may be the only chance that we have. Otherwise they will destroy us, and after us, the upper levels…"

Into Alex's pointed silence, Bishop said, "They'd control the whole building. We can't allow that."

Tammi burst up from the slime, spewing water, sobbing with the effort to draw air into her lungs. Her bodybuilder muscles were slack, and glistened with muck. "They're dead," she said disbelievingly. "They're both gone." In her hand she held Mouser's pack. It was torn and bloodied, but she hugged it to her chest, eyes casting about uncertainly.

The Nommo nodded kindly. "Come," they said. "Show us the talismans you have earned so dearly."

Acacia beckoned to Cipher, who had carried her pack down from poolside. She sloshed back and presented the jagged club from Ile Ife, the Staff of Oranyan. Captain Cipher presented his chillum pipe. Mary-em simply waddled forward; her tummy glowed with the life within.

And finally, Tammi peeled open Mouser's bloodied pack as if ripping out an enemy's heart. She brought forth Oggun's Necklace, and…

The Nommo crown.

There was a moment's pause during which no one spoke, no one moved. So, said Bishop's silent lips. Acacia's eyes glittered greedily.

"The crown," the Nommo said reverently. "With it, you can all function as one family, one mind and heart. You cannot survive in contention. Do you understand?"

They nodded.

"Then this is what you must do…"

Friday, July 22, 2059 — 3:00 P.M.

Harmony and Millicent were back in full Mallster makeup, which lent a bizarre and almost surreal air to the conference.

"Do you really think you'll be on call again today?" Vail asked.

Harmony spread his fingers. "Depends on when they decide to break for dinner. The Gamers have been racing through that building about thirty percent faster than anyone anticipated. It pays to be ready." He placed his enormous hands flat on the table before him. The overhead light gleamed on long, ragged black fingernails. "Millicent. McWhirter. Dr. Vail… as Chief of Operations at Dream Park, I have allowed you unusually open access to information. Only the time factor involved made this palatable. I ask you again. What have we learned about Sharon Crayne, and Army, and Bishop?"

McWhirter cleared his throat. "Considerable. Also, we've got an additional ally, if we want him. Richard Lopez wants in."

Harmony squeezed his eyes shut. "Great. And why not a brass band while we're at it? Might as well call in the vidzines too."

Tony shook his head. "With all respect, Mr. Harmony, Richard Lopez is the closest we can get to having a Bishop on our side. We may well need him before this is over."

Harmony ground his teeth, then nodded. "All right. Dr. Vail-you and Millicent have been working. What results?"

Vail tapped a short stack of printed plastic sheets. "We believe that Nigel Bishop pierced the security around Embryadopt and offered Crayne access to and/or custody of that child."

"How in the hell did you come to that conclusion?"

"Sharon's own words," Tony said. "We've got them on tape." He consulted handwritten notes. "While making her copy of MIMIC's security systems, she said, quote: 'I'm coming, sweetheart. Mommy's doing everything she can.' Unquote."

"You found that?" Harmony asked, impressed. "Good work, Tony."

McWhirter glowed.

Harmony grew thoughtful again. "I thought Embryadopt was completely secure."

"There's no such thing as absolute security," Tony said. "Sufficient bribery, or political clout, could manage it. Or maybe Bishop lied to her."

"Political?"

Tony said, "Millicent?"

It was disorienting hearing Millicent's cool voice emerging from that monstrous countenance. "Six hundred thousand dollars in gambling money was routed through Ecuador, whose economy is based more on agriculture and mineral resources than high-tech manufacturing. Suppose a money source in Ecuador was bankrolling Bishop?"

Tony chimed in. "Bankrolling or employing him. Remember Bishop can't make Army win. But there were rumors in the Gaming community that he was involved in spy stuff during his retirement."

"All right. If it was someone in Ecuador and financial clout buys political clout anywhere in the world he has access to enough power to pierce any security shield, if you can find the right button to push."

Tony said, "Finding buttons is Bishop's peculiar talent."

Harmony drummed his fingers. "So the only question remaining is, How did he know Sharon Crayne's vulnerable spot? And what the hell does he want? Two questions."

"Acacia Garcia, too," Tony said. "He hunted her down. She was a way to learn about Griffin, or get to Griffin. Or… distract Griffin. And she likes dangerous men."

"Shit," Harmony said quietly. "But what about Ms. Crayne?"

"We came up with something interesting," Millicent said. She consulted her own sheaf of notes. "Six years ago, in March of '53, Sharon Crayne belonged to an organization called ASA. Tony and I got into some of Bishop's bank transactions. We didn't find any guilty associations, but did reveal a series of small deposits to the account of an organisation called ASA, during the same time period."

"And what does ASA stand for?"

Vail chose his words carefully. "There once existed an Adult Survivors of Abuse. Primarily a support network for incest survivors. Disbanded now."

Harmony sat back in his chair. "Bishop?"

"Mmm."

"Dr. Vail, isn't that stretching coincidence a little?"

"Not particularly. Our Nigel Bishop sounds to me like a smiling sociopath. Incapable of forming any truly significant relationships, but brilliant. That kind of brilliance, omnicompetence perhaps, combined with perceiving the entire realm of human endeavor as a game, a win-lose proposition… implies an extremely stressful childhood. I picture a little boy who was never loved for who he was, only what he did."

"What he did…" McWhirter whispered.

"Yes," Vail said dryly. "And for whom. Without knowing more it would be difficult to say. But if he was an adult survivor of incest, I would guess that the incest was perpetrated upon him by an aunt, an elder sister, even his mother. That he did everything to please her, and she used the dual positions of authority figure and lover to manipulate him, forcing him to perform like a puppet. That the relationship was eventually discovered and ended, leaving him emotionally devastated, with a terrible ambivalence toward female sexuality. I'd think he's tried to control and subvert women ever since."