Fantasy in Death - J. D. Robb [43]
“A shame, but fair enough. Let’s try a few.” He went manual again, she suspected to keep his little game a secret until she was sucked in.
The air shimmered, wavered, and in a moment she found herself standing in a shadowy forest—and dressed in some sort of ancient Asian garb. She had a sword in her hand and soft boots on her feet.
“When and where are...”
She broke off, eyes huge. While her thoughts were in English, her voice had come out in what she thought was Japanese.
“How the hell—”
“Translator feature. Adds to the realism,” he said in the same language. “It’s just slightly out of loop. We’re working on that.”
“I ... No, it’s too weird. I don’t want to speak Japanese.”
“All right, let’s try another.”
With barely a shimmer this time, she stood on a green hill, her hair long and tied back. She wore, as Roarke did, some sort of leather top that hit mid-thigh and snug pants that slid into the tops of boots.
She hesitated, then gave it another try. “Okay, now where ... Gaelic. It’s Gaelic, isn’t it? I get the accent.”
“Ireland, Tudor era.”
“It ... it smells green, and there’s a hint of something earthy, smoky.”
“Peat fires. All the sensory features have been enhanced. In the real-world scenarios, the language, the syntax, the clothing, well, every detail’s been meticulously researched and replicated. There are any number of fantasy options already programmed in, or the players can program their own, either from an option menu or by going manual. There’s no limit.”
“Okay, frosty, because I’m hearing you speak Gaelic, but I’m processing English. Did Fantastical have this?”
“I don’t know, but tend to doubt it from the data we have, from their setup at the warehouse. We’ll offer a cheaper version without the translator, but I project the translator feature—which will be steep—will be a main selling point. And there’s the added educational aspect.”
“Sure. Educational.” She tipped her head. “I hear...” She turned on the hill, and let out a stunned breath. A battle raged in the valley below. Hundreds of warriors, horses, fires. She was pretty sure she was watching a castle being sacked.
“More scope than I’ve seen in holo before, more range. It’s more like being in a vid. A really well-produced vid.”
“That’s only limited by your skill and imagination. The program will adjust, follow your choices, your strategy.”
“How do you stop it?”
“By simply telling the program to halt, pause, or change. In a multiplayer game, doing so would cost that player points or result in disqualification.”
“Yeah?” She turned back to him and didn’t he look amazing with all that black hair blowing in the wind, in that scarred leather and with a bright sword in his hand. “I won’t be calling time-out.” She lifted her sword. “Let’s play.”
8
SHE SET, PLANTING HER FEET AS SHE STRUCK out. She heard the ring and clash as steel met steel, felt the force of it sing up her arm.
They eyed each other over the deadly vee.
“I take it you’ve fancied we’re enemies.”
“More fun that way,” she said, and spun back to return with another thrust.
He blocked, then worked her back a few paces. “That would depend.” He feinted, struck right, right again, then left. She repelled, a kind of testing denial before thrusting forward to force him back.
He swept up, under her guard, but she danced aside, then whirled, using the rotation to add speed and strength to the next attack.
“You’ve been practicing,” he commented while their blades whistled and sang.
“You, too.”
“Part of my job.” His blade clashed and shimmered against hers. “But you don’t see many cops in sword fights.”
“You never know.”
She knew him, knew he held back a bit. Knew he was amused by the situation, and that gave her an advantage. Using it, she smiled at him. “Sword’s got weight.” She gripped the hilt in both hands as if to test it, and when he lowered his sword a fraction, charged in.
She caught his shoulder, just a quick bite before he slapped her blade aside.
And she saw blood well.
“Oh Jesus. Oh shit. I cut you. How—”
“It’s not real.” He held up a hand before