Conspiracies - Mercedes Lackey [80]
Maybe I can learn to shoot a gun and be cannon fodder.
She plopped down in her seat, successfully kept herself from opening up the school chatroom, and got her after-class assignments. Math problems and an essay, oh joy. Resolutely she did her assignments, and reached into the drawer for a thumb drive to save them until she could get time on a printer. For all she knew, there would be an EMP or a power outage or an undervolt, and she’d lose everything she’d just done.
Her hand fell on something smooth and cooler than the thumb drive she was looking for. She pulled it out.
It was the mysterious “Ironkey” drive she’d found in her bag.
She hesitated a moment, then shrugged, and plugged it into the USB port. The worst that would happen would be that it would infect her computer and the school net. Bitterly, she decided that wouldn’t be so bad … it would give Mark Rider and his computer geeks another chance to save the day. And the best? There might be something interesting on it. Something to take her mind off this mess.
Her computer registered and recognized the device. She clicked on the book-shaped icon.
A window opened. Words appeared.
Are you alone? Y/N
OK, that was weird. Y, she typed.
What is your name?
Spirit White.
Correct answer. Who was Mr. BunBun?
Spirit blinked. She hadn’t thought of that in years. When she was five, for some unknown reason the stores had run short of stuffed rabbits at Easter, and her parents had gotten her a pink stuffed plush dog instead. She’d called it Mr. BunBun and for three years she couldn’t be separated from it.
How did a program on a flash drive know that?
Muirin. This had to be some kind of prank of Muirin’s. She didn’t remember telling Muirin about Mr. BunBun, but obviously she had. And Oakhurst did have killer computer labs. Even if Muirin couldn’t write a program like this, she could find someone to do it for her.
Might as well see what happens.…
My stuffed dog, she typed.
Correct answer. Welcome, Spirit White.
A new window opened, full of text. She began to read it, slowly.
Instructions. Instructions—supposedly—on how to use a code package in a file on this key to do what, so far, none of the school hackers had ever been able to. Get past the firewalls undetectably, and reach outside the intranet and onto the Internet. Into the world.
Muirin couldn’t have done this. If she knew how, she’d do it herself. If she meant to share it with Spirit, she’d have bragged about it. Spirit’s mouth went dry, and she sat back in her chair, staring at the screen. If this worked, she could talk to anyone—do research—get advice.
But then the temporary euphoria abruptly vanished. Who would she talk to? She was all alone. She didn’t know anyone. She wasn’t like Muirin, who had contacts everywhere and knew how to make more. Everyone she knew, everyone she cared about, was right here.
And if it was a trap—would it be a trap laid by the Oakhurst insider? Ms. Holland could have planted this in her bag. What would happen if it was a trap? Could you use a computer program to do magic? Would it bring a Shadow Knight straight to her? Or had whoever put this in her bag figured she did have friends outside the school, and intended to use her to find them?
She stared at the screen for a good minute before finally unplugging the drive and throwing it back in the drawer.
It was no use. She was alone, afraid, and without allies. She got undressed, went back to bed, turned off the lights, and cried herself to sleep.
TWELVE
Spirit woke up with a start—with someone’s hand clamped over her mouth. She froze. Her body couldn’t seem to move even though her brain wanted her to leap out of bed and—
“Don’t scream,” came a hissing whisper. “It’s just me, Elizabeth.”
The hand came away, and before she could get a good breath to let out a shriek, the light over her bed clicked on. It was Elizabeth, looking pinched and anxious. Spirit struggled up into a sitting position and rubbed her eyes, still sore and sticky from crying. “Elizabeth, what are you doing in my room?” she asked angrily.