GAME SET MATCH
Netcat eyed the little drone from where she lay on the bench, soaking up the rare sunlight—and the rich wireless dataflow, which was as warming to her as the sun overhead. The UW campus was crowded with students, all of them with active commlinks, messages thickening the datasphere as they enjoyed the unusually bright day. Classes be screwed; early spring in Seattle wasn’t known for nice weather, and even the professors were probably out playing hooky. She wasn’t a student any more, but she felt safe in the throngs of college kids, in their precious little bubble of campus life. She’d been in that bubble before the Crash 2.0.
And sometimes she just liked to return to it.
The drone was harmless, floating above the plaza and watching over the kids like a hen clucking over her chicks. Netcat closed her eyes, felt the sun soak into her bones, and sighed. With her e-sense, she didn’t need to look around to know where every single person—and drone—was in the plaza.
When one of those people walked straight to her and stood there, blocking her sun, she didn’t need any special abilities to know it was a guy. Unarmed, augmented with nothing more than a datajack, his off-theshelf commlink projecting a dinky little icon. As if she’d be interested in some pampered college boy.
"Go away," she said, not bothering to open her eyes.
"And leave you here for the frat-boys to drool over?" replied an amused masculine voice. Netcat’s heartbeat kicked up a notch and she jerked up, instincts—or maybe just her hormones—humming.
Slamm-0! gazed down at her, a grin spread across his square-jawed face. "Gotcha," he said.
Netcat dropped back against the bench, trying to get her heart rate back under control. "What are you doing here?" she asked, crossing her arms, torn between being flattered by the pure masculine appreciation in his gaze and being suspicious. How the heck had he found her? And why was he here?
"Just in the area,” he said. “I saw you and thought I should say hi." Slamm-0! didn’t bother mentioning that when he’d heard she was in Seattle, he’d begged her access ID off FastJack after she’d logged onto Jackpoint this morning—damn technomancers and their constantly changing access IDs—and set about tracking her down. Now he just had to be clever and dangle the right bait. And not think about how she’d looked, stretched out in the sun, the top few buttons of her shirt undone, framing creamy white skin. And somehow resist the urge to strike blind all those idiot boys who’d been admiring the view. His view.
She raised one eyebrow.
"Wanna get a bite to eat? Lunch?" he asked.
"I already ate,” she said, her arms still crossed. “And now I’m enjoying the sun. Alone."
He smiled down at her. She narrowed her eyes at him. He slung himself down on the bench next to her, stretching out his long legs, casually sliding his arm along the bench back behind her.
"Uh-huh,” he said, relaxing. “Real private here in the middle of kid-central." Netcat felt her lip twitch and suppressed the grin.
"And what about that little guy up there?” Slamm-0! nodded at the little drone still hovering over the plaza. “I think it was trying to look down your shirt."
"It’s a drone,” she said, rolling her eyes. “If it was, you were probably telling it to."
"Not me,” he said, his boy-next-door face looking deceptively innocent. “That’s something you’d do. Weren’t you the one who hacked the drones in my place, and posted the photos on Jackpoint?"
"Ah …" Netcat blushed. It’d been on a dare from Pistons, although she’d done a bit more looking than she probably should’ve … but who knew the annoying hacker had such a fine body? She’d thought he’d be one of those pasty-skinned couch potatoes.
"What, you haven’t hacked the drone yet?” he asked, a gleam in his eye. She just shook her head, her cheeks still burning. “How about a little contest?" he said.
"A contest?" she asked quickly, thankful for the subject change.
"Yeah,” he said, looking around the plaza. The old campus buildings had their windows open, letting in the fresh air—it was a breather-free day—and sun. He called up the campus map, and the building was suddenly outlined in his AR vision, a neat ARO marking it as the Chemistry building. He pointed to a set of matching windows. “Whoever can get the drone into a window first. I’ll even let you use your little sprite friends," he said, just a little patronizing.
Predictably, her back went up. "I’ll take the left window,” she said, opening an AR window and spinning a form that measured the distance between the fountain and the Chemistry building to the southwest. “And when I win, you’re going to tell all of Jackpoint how I kicked your sorry ass and how I’m better than you in the Matrix."
"Right,” said Slamm-0!, “And when I get it in the right-hand window, you let me take you out on a date. A real one."
Netcat eyed the hacker. They’d pitted their abilities against each other before, and so far she’d been on a winning streak—but that was in the ‘trix, where her unique abilities balanced out his experience and skill. Out here …
"What kind of date?” she asked. “Not that kind,” he said, keeping a straight face. “The kind where you wear a dress, I wear a suit, and we eat overpriced food in a quiet little restaurant while we share our life stories."
"I don’t think I want to know your life story,” she muttered. “Do you even own a suit?" Not that he didn’t look just fine in those jeans, but she’d never let him know that.
"I do,” he said. “I’ve even been known to eat with silverware on occasion. C’mon, Kitty. Worried I’ll trounce you?" he asked, toying with a curl of her hair.
She raised one eyebrow. "As if you could,” she said, pointedly moving his hand off her shoulder. “All right, but let’s stick with AR. It would be weird if we both keeled over in the middle of the plaza."
"Great!” he said with a grin, “Ready, set, go!" Before the technomancer could react, he reached for his sunglasses and flashed the drone with a reflected sunbeam. Its little dog brain just wasn’t complex enough to make its own decision, not when faced with something it didn’t recognize. Slamm-0! knew standard operating protocols would make the drone contact its master—a security rigger somewhere on campus. Probably in the campus security headquarters. Without hacking it, he couldn’t know how strong the drone’s firewall would be, but with all the kids here, and the prime CompSci department, he bet the security riggers had beefed up the firewalls. Either that or risk having their drones decorating dorm rooms all across campus. And if he wanted to beat ‘Cat—and god, did he—he had to move fast. That meant spoofing, not hacking. Hacking on the fly risked setting off a security alert. Spoofing was good for moving fast. But he needed the security rigger’s access ID for it to work. And that required backtracking the communication line from the drone to the rigger.
He opened an AR window, the angular corners a stark contrast to the pretty fountain of the plaza. He sent the code scrolling for his sniffer, mentally manipulating the program as it found the communication channel. In another window, he tasked an agent to calculate the coordinates he’d need to win the contest.
Annoyed by the sudden start, Netcat turned her back to the hacker as she tugged one of her sprites out of the resonance. While it coalesced within her digitally augmented vision as a ball of shimmering lights forming into a tiny fairy with tattered wings, she reached out along the sense of the drone’s uncertainty and located its hidden Matrix node, adding another bubble to her own AR display.
Slamm-0! moved with almost superhuman speed, skating down the drone’s Matrix connection node by node, tracking it back to its controller. When he found it, it was a simple matter to analyze the rigger’s node, catching his access ID.
Netcat asked the little sprite to help hide her from the drone’s sight, and felt the little creature settle against her shoulder as it extended its resonance to help cloak her. Then she reached for her Exploit form, pouring her mental strength into it, feeling it grow stronger. With that done, she turned her attention to the drone’s node, pushing against the thick guard of its firewall.
Slamm-0! chuckled behind her. "This is too easy. I’ve already got the rigger’s access ID.” He sent the drone orders, using the owner’s identity as the sender, to fly into the open window on the right. Fooled by the spoofed headers, the stupid drone careened off of its normal path, flying directly for Slamm-0!’s target at an eager, if somewhat slow, pace. “Now all I’ve got to do is wait. Maybe I should start making reservations for a restaurant? You’re a vegetarian, right?" Slamm-0! smiled as he opened a third AR window, confirming the 8 o’clock reservation for the Eye of the Needle he’d made when FastJack had finally given him the technomancer’s access ID.
The technomancer growled at him as she pushed against the drone’s firewall. Netcat didn’t want normal user access, she wanted admin access. The extra time’ll be worth it, she thought, ignoring the headache brewing behind her eyes. Finally, she saw the weakness in the drone’s firewall that would allow her to slip through without affecting it. She was in. With a lovely admin passcode.
"Dream on,” she said to Slamm-0!, wrinkling her nose. “How about you skip the reservations, and start composing that post. ‘Netcat’ is one word, no dashes." She reached for the drone’s AR controls and turned the mechanical damselfly to the left.
A second later, her controls went dark. "It’s not responding to my commands; that’s not you, is it?" asked Slamm-0!
She perceived the words Rigger Control Override floating in the node space of the drone. "No,” she muttered, “I think we’ve been made." She saw an icon of a large grey and white dog enter the node, presumably the drone’s rightful controller. The rigger’s sniffing icon had not yet caught her in his territory, but she cursed anyway. Her sprite wouldn’t stay forever, and once it left, it would just be a matter of time before he spotted her.
"What, you trigger an alert, kitten?" Slamm-0! asked as he squared his shoulders for an outright attack on the firewall, unloading his own sniffer program and bringing up his exploit program. Stealth be damned, he wasn’t losing this contest. Nor was he going to let some rigger attack Netcat, not when her technomancer weaknesses would translate a harmless Attack program into real damage.
"Not me,” she muttered. “Think the rigger’s onto our little game."
The drone began drifting back to the right, toward the UW Security Headquarters for maintenance, under the complete control of the proper authorities. "Nice try, pal," Netcat said, half to Slamm-0! and half to the rigger. She reached for the admin access accounts, attempting to delete the rigger’s account and dump him from the drone.
When her attempt failed, she groaned. The security riggers had programmed the drone to not accept admin account deletions—a standard hacker trick. "God, I hate men with brains," she muttered, watching as the rigger opened the access logs. She hadn’t been in the drone long enough for those to update. With both of them having admin access, they were at a stalemate.
Slamm-0!, meanwhile, unleashed his exploit against the firewall. Netcat heard the drone’s firewall scream, and Slamm-0!’s cartoonish icon burst through. She and the rigger both turned to look at the lightninghaired youth at the same time.
"What the hell?" she asked, physically and in AR. The husky icon braced itself, then launched at the cartoon icon. Netcat bared her teeth.
"Shit," Slamm-0! muttered, dodging the rigger’s attack. A pack of little grey and white puppies tumbled into the node, rolling around as they attempted to track the intruder’s scent. As fast as he was, Slamm0! knew the rigger would be faster in VR. He dodged another swipe of the husky’s sharp teeth. With the firewall on alert, it was bad news for him—and he didn’t even see Netcat’s icon in his AR view. He did see the bumbling puppies as they began to trace him.
"You boys going to just dance all day?" Netcat asked, working to deactivate the IC.
"Sorry, kitten,” Slamm-0! growled, “I’m being a gentleman. Keeping him away from you.” He frantically loaded up a program to redirect the trace, and saw code bleed across his AR view as the husky landed an attack. He felt, more than saw, his icon slow down. A nuke program. God, he hated those. Moving slower, he attempted to dodge another attack from the husky, and again, felt his icon slow even more. Works both ways, dog-breath, Slamm-0! thought, loading his own Nuke program. The puppies were nipping at his heels, but with a little “pop" they disappeared from the node.
"Don’t worry about me, Romeo," Netcat said as she called up another sprite, a protector. It burst into being in the node, trailing neon sparks, and she felt her headache shift from dull ache to sharp pain. It was worth it, though, when she saw the husky grab another bite of Slamm-0!’s icon. Protect him, she said, and the little fairy flew into the fray, settling on the cartoon boy’s shoulder and screwing its pointed face up in concentration. The husky lost its grip. Its next lunge hit a shimmering bubble of light around the cartoon icon, and Netcat heard her tiny sprite chatter angrily as it redirected the attack, taking the damage onto itself and leaving Slamm-0! untouched.
Slamm-0! unleashed his own Nuke program, a fast hardball that flew directly at the husky’s face, slamming into him so hard the dog fell to the ground. He didn’t have some stupid campus security version of the program, his was cutting edge software gleaned from the best coders at Hacker House. The security rigger’s icon was paralyzed … and with his response reduced to zero, he had no room to subscribe to the drone. His connection fizzled out.
Slamm-0! rubbed his hands, gloating. "See, there’s a real hacker at work. Now—"
His AR view of the drone’s internal system went black. He swung his head around to glare at Netcat. She smiled.
"Silly hackers with their user level passcodes,” she said, sugar sweet. “A real techno goes for an Admin every time. That’s how I dumped your cute ass.” Netcat’s controls came back online and she re-routed the drone back towards the Chem building. She knew Slamm-0! had the rigger’s access ID, so she altered the account to not accept movement commands— the easiest way to stymie him. Nothing interfered as the drone approached the chemistry building window. She slowed the drone to hover in front of the open right-hand window. “Well, then, I think that’s game, set, and match. You were using that rigger’s access ID, weren’t you? Too bad I altered his account." She grinned at Slamm-0!, flush with success.
The hacker grinned back. "I do know one access ID our new little winged friend will like.” He executed a command. “Yours."
Netcat reached for her controls, but it was too late. The drone lurched to the side and darted into the open window. Slamm-0! thrust both hands into the air in victory, but the shout died on his lips. A crash and a loud "whump" came from the open window, followed by screams and a billowing cloud of sickly orange vapor.
Netcat stared up at the building, her mouth open. "Chemistry building, huh?"
"Er … oops. Yeah." Slamm-0! watched in fascination as alarms lit up his AR view of the building. Dozens of students stared up at the orange cloud drifting up toward the sky.
"We should go now," Netcat said, jumping up from the bench.
"Right behind you,” he replied. She giggled as they hurried through the crowd of students. At the edge of the plaza, a Seattle Public Transit bus was pulling up to a stop. It took a simple thought to trigger the “handicap access" command, forcing the drone pilot to hold the doors open. Netcat stopped a few feet away from the bus.
"That’s my ride," she said.
"Eight o’clock, tonight,” Slamm-0! said. “Eye of the Needle. You want me to pick you up, or send a limo?"
"You did not just hack yourself a reservation there while we were doing all that!” Netcat said, then put her hands on her hips. “Did you?"
Slamm-0! reached out, tugged at one loose black curl. "Real hacker, Kitty,” he said. “Don’t forget to wear a dress."