Now the simulacrum launched an attack of his own, slicing his blade in at Leif's left side. Leif shifted his wrist outward while moving his sword across his body, raising the blade almost in a vertical line. The moment he'd parried, his sword leaped forward, the movement all in his fingers-tap-tap-tap! He caught his opponent on the forearm, on the shoulder, and on the head.
Not bad for a single extension, Leif thought.
The stand-in Andy looked really angry now, moving fast and going for a head cut. Leif brought his own blade up, and responded with an instant riposte, a swat of the wrist that smacked the flat of his blade against the simulacrum's chest.
His fencing coach would be pleased. Each move Leif made was precise and as quick as lightning-surgical strikes against an ever-more-desperate opponent.
The Andy-faced fencer tried a wide slash. Leif parried and closed in a lunge, flicking out to touch with the point of his blade. "That does it for you," he told the construct.
Sudden applause nearly jarred him into dropping his saber. Leif turned-to find the real Andy Moore, or at least his virtual self, clapping wildly. Good manners would normally keep a person from barging into someone else's virtual setup-not to mention security programs designed to keep out intruders.
But neither manners nor basic firewalls were likely to stop old Andy.
"I came to apologize," Andy said. "But after seeing you cut me up like that-"
Suddenly Leif's lanky blond friend was flanked by a line of virtual cuties, each apparently unclad girl holding a placard. Taken together, they spelled out go leif!
But then the naked ladies and their message pretty much disappeared in the red haze that filled Leif's vision. Blade extended, he charged after Andy, who ducked, dodged, and then simply disappeared from the sim, although his aggravating chuckles still filled the gym.
Leif walked back to face the construct Andy, his face red from fury, exertion… and embarrassment. He'd completely lost it while chasing his annoying friend. Not only had he lost his concentration, he'd been chopping as if his saber were a meat cleaver.
He brought his blade up in a quick salute. "En garde," he said. "It appears I've got a little more to work off with you."
Chapter 2
Leif popped into the big, bare virtual meeting room with only a twinge from his temples.
Very nice, he thought. Recalibrating the lasers on his computer-link couch had paid off. He looked around the government-issue meeting space. The crowd of kids assembled for the monthly national meeting of the Net Force Explorers looked sparser than usual. Well, it was summer, and a lot of kids spent their time doing interesting things in the real world instead of venturing into cyberspace.
But not Leif-right now the real world around him was too darned hot. New York was going through one of its periodic summer heat waves. Dad was working on some massive deal that required his physical presence round the clock at the office, while Mom was chairing a big charity event that kept her occupied and away from home more often than not. For Leif, the decision to leave his body in air-conditioned comfort back in the penthouse while seeing his D. C. friends was a no-brainer.
He'd even mostly gotten over his anger with Andy Moore-although his second bout with the make-believe Andy had been a lot more intense than the first one. No neat little taps for scoring purposes that time. But the virtual carnage served him well. Leif was feeling sufficiently magnanimous not to go for Andy's throat when the blond boy popped into existence not too far away.
"Hey, D'Artagnan," Andy greeted Leif with a smirk. "How's school?"
"Don't push it, Moore."
"You have to admit it was funny," Andy said.
"Ask me in six months," Leif said. "Right now, no, I'm not laughing."
David Gray joined them-as usual, the crew was homing in on Leif's head of blazing red hair. "Thanks for your warning," David said to Leif. "I checked my files after a visit from the schlock-meister here, and ended up editing topless dancers out of the telemetry package from my reproduction of the Galileo space probe."
"You told?" Andy flashed a look of betrayal at Leif, quickly followed by outrage as he turned to David. "And they weren't topless! Each figure stays respectably behind her letter card"-he smiled slyly-"unless somebody found a way to erase the cards."
"You'd better not try slipping any nudie munchkins into my system, Moore," Maj Greene entered the conversation with her usual volume and energy, "/wouldn't be satisfied with just trashing you in veeyar."
Heads began turning at the sound of her raised voice.
Andy held up his hands. 'They're not nude/' he said feebly. "Just… cute."
"My lit instructor didn't think they were cute," Leif told him. "Trust me on that one."
"What's all the hubbub?" Megan O'Malley asked as she synched in.
As David explained, she shook her head. "You guys just don't know how to spend your summers."
"And you do?" Maj challenged. "Running around waving a sword?"
"Nothing wrong with that," Leif quickly put in. "Although why you'd want to learn a bunch of obsolete mumbo-jumbo-"
"I'll bet I've learned more about the why of things studying historical fencing that you ever heard of in your competitive fencing bouts, Mr. Junior Champion," Megan shot back. "My instructor is really into the history of the blade. In fact, Alan is into history in general. He's a charter member of the Fin de Siecle SIG in the local AHSO chapter."
"What?" Maj demanded. "What kind of acronym is that? Does the group check out the historical significance of Chinese food?"
"The letters stand for Amalgamated Historical Simulation Organizations," David said.. "SIG means Special Interest Group, right?"
Matt Hunter, another member of the group, came up to join them, followed by P. J. Farris.
"Aren't they the guys who go around playing knights in shining armor?" P. J. asked.
"More than that," David replied. "They've extended their interests to all the various eras of history. Each time period and geographical area is covered by a SIG-a Special Interest Group."
Matt Hunter nodded. "Fin de Siecle is the SIG for the turn of the century from the eighteen-nineties into the nineteen-hundreds."
Matt ought to know, Leif thought. His friend was into history in a big way. "Good name for it-the end of the era" Leif said, translating the phrase from the French into English.
"Alan invited me to come and check out their next meeting," Megan went on. "He made it sound like a lot of fun."
"My dad is always talking about our great Texas history," P. J. said. His father was a senator for the Lone Star State. "Not much swordplay down our way, though, unless you count bowie knives. Bows, arrows, fists, and guns were pretty much the weapons of choice in the bad old days in Texas."
"Alan wouldn't think much of Texas, then," Megan said. "He's fondest of times where swashbuckling heroes performed great deeds of daring with daggers drawn, not to mention sabers, rapiers, and any other kind of edged weapon you can think of."
Leif rolled his eyes. "This Slaney guy sounds like he thinks he's God's gift to fencing, and maybe history, as well."
"Not to mention God's gift to women," Andy added, nodding toward Megan. She seemed very up about her summer activities, her upcoming visit with the Fin de Siecle SIG… and Alan Slaney in general.
Leif cut into her earnest attempts to recruit some friends to go along with her. "All right. What's the Net address for this tea party?"
Megan glanced over at him. "It's not a veeyar thing," she said. "These guys are very old-fashioned. They meet in the flesh."