The General slumped back in his seat. Silence filled the air as everyone digested what they'd just heard. I tried to shrink myself into insignificance. The Vets had just exposed their weak spots in front of me—either having forgotten I was formally a stranger or believing I was too deeply in it with the rest of them.

Finally Frag spoke, "Very well, Dan. I expect a detailed analytical report from you. We'll need to work out an action plan. What kind of people exactly we need, how we can incorporate them in our system and teach them some army discipline. What can we offer them to make them interested? You have a week to look into all this. Now! What have we got next? The media? Are they making waves?"

Dan nodded, silent, as he hurried to gulp down some hot coffee. If anything, the Vets weren't the suckers for brainless discipline. No dumb respect for rank here: none of the proverbial 'yes, Sir, no, Sir'. Everyone seemed relaxed in a creative working atmosphere. I had to admit this was something I really liked about them.

"Almost immediately, the media launched countermeasures," Dan continued. "Apparently, they followed one of their prearranged scenarios. We were accused of unprovoked aggression, of rocking the boat and of planning to take over the entire cluster. As we all know, the bigger the lie, the easier it is to believe. They took all affordable measures to make waves: forums, hired pens and pressure on the part of some of the stronger clans. Soon after our taking of the castle, though, the pressure faded away. Our enemy knows full well what kind of evidence we now possess and wouldn't risk forcing us to reveal a whole layer of corpus delicti in order to justify our actions."

The General nodded his satisfaction. "What do your analysts and counterintelligence people suggest?"

Dan glanced at his empty mug and the upended coffee pot. One of the more observant officers rose in his seat, passing him an almost-full one.

"They've thrown enough shit at the fan to give us our fair share of cleaning to do," Dan went on as he poured himself another cup. "In the afternoon, we're holding a press conference with the Alliance and top clan representatives. We're going to expose evidence of both torture and slave trade. We'll show them down to the cellar, then allow them to spend some time with some of the prisoners and ex-slaves. Some of them are complete vegetables which is more than enough to impress any doubting Thomases. As you all must know, we've taken sixty-eight prisoners in total. As we found out later, twenty of them were ex-cellar dwellers and Ivan the Terrible's customers. To our regret, we have failed to locate him. One of the prisoners turned out to be an interesting type: one of the more prominent Olders. He cussed at our guys like a trooper threatening them with all sorts of shit. It's true that our men had been a bit heavy-handed with him, but then again, he should have watched his tongue. When they asked him what he was doing in a Cats' castle late at night without minders he told them some story about his observer status at some talks apparently held there. As I've reported to you already, the Olders sent us an ultimatum demanding the release of their money bag which we did immediately according to procedure. All captured Cats are low to middle ranking. We're trying to persuade them to collaborate. We're desperate for any information. But we shouldn't expect much: the fattest chickens had fled the coop immediately after Max's escape."

He paused. I raised my hand to offer a thought that had just started to form in my mind.

"Go ahead," the General said.

"I wonder if we could outlaw possession of the Astral Stone and offer a reward to those who find it? Penalize those who attempt to conceal it. That way we could avoid-"

"Not bad," the General agreed. "Analyst group, I want you to work on it and get a rough concept ready in time for the press conference. Now, the Camos. Got anything on them?"

"Very little. It's an unknown hybrid class: a cross between the rogue, paladin and wizard, specializing in ice spells. This is a killer combination, although tailored mainly for stealth-heavy blitz missions. All this rings a few bells. This is something made to order to suit the needs of various security forces. I never believed they would ignore AlterWorld. And considering the prospects of our independence, they would increase their interest in us tenfold. I don't think that you know but there's an old rumor among electronic engineers that all microchips and processors above a particular degree of complexity have been tampered with to allow, if need be, the usurping of control of the system. Apparently, it's done at the government's demand. The moment the chips receive a coded command via satellite, all radios, phones and computers will happily die. Which is one of the reasons why the use of imported electronic parts is prohibited in our space and strategic missile forces. A slightly similar situation exists with our cell and FIVR providers whom the law obliges to install control and interception devices into their products."

He took a large gulp of his coffee and paused, frowning. "Which leads us to the following conclusion: why, for the sake of argument, wouldn't somebody like the CIA or the National Security Agency obtain a similar confidential authorization allowing them to implant bugs in order to monitor everything that happens here? A special class with some equally special gear, things like that. The few items we managed to take from the Camos support this theory, too. Their PK rating is modest. They didn't drop anything—apparently, their gear is all soul-bound. The contents of their bags, however, were droppable. They're all unknown items, their names evidence of their non-gaming origin. How would you like "ration #6", " stimpack, universal", "first aid kit, large", "poison throwing knife #9". You can see a structure here: developers following exact orders. Having said that, it offers another scenario: that the Camos are the Admin's internal security force. Still, all their body movements remain a mystery to me. It's pretty clear they arrived in order to either capture or destroy the Crystal. What remains unclear, though, is why they couldn't solve the problem via administrative channels instead."

Dan made a helpless gesture. He was done. Frag was tapping his dagger against his cup while the other officers conferred in low voices, discussing Dan's speech. I, too, was worried about this new unknown force. If government security agencies started having the upper hand over regular perma players, that could lead to no good at all. Absolute power corrupts people. It makes them lose any sense of reality. The Cats' example was enough.

One of the analysts in charge of monitoring the media channels rose. "General, the Cats clan has just announced its voluntary dissolution. The remaining two castles are put up for auction. Formally, the clan and its property have ceased to exist. Does that mean we've won?"

"They've legged it," the General spat. "Fucking lowlifes. Those who can will make new characters for themselves. Their permas will predictably escape to the British cluster. Now, take this down: put all the Cats on our clan's KOS list. When we hold this press conference, we'll recommend everyone to do the same."

The remaining discussions dealt with some minor clan issues. I apologized and sneaked out.

Once outside, I paused wondering whether I still needed anything there. Then I activated the teleport and headed for the East Castle. Yawning, I dragged my feet to my apartment—Winnie-free, to my delight—and collapsed into bed.

I woke up late in the afternoon when Taali who by then knew my personal preferences had crept through the door and placed a plateful of Russian salad right under my nose. By then, I was half-awake and smelled my favorite chow at the second whiff.