by Pam Uphoff
First Posting
Pam Uphoff
Genetic engineering lifted psychic powers above the random background of coincidence. Backlash and prejudice against 'Magic' and 'Satanism' resulted in the exile of all genetically engineered people to dangerous worlds; not-quite-parallel earths they weren't expected to survive.
Fourteen centuries of turbulent Earth history later the exiled magicians have been forgotten, rediscovered, clashed with . . .
The Empire of the One grew from the accidental stranding of an early cross dimensional exploration party of the genetically engineered, two years before the Exile. They arrived in the middle of a war, where the three great powers, China, the Islamic Union, and Greater Argentina vied for possession of the no-longer-radioactive ruins of Europe and North America. The marooned explorers used their special talents, and a lot of flimflam and fast talk to place themselves on the top of the Islamic Union as the New Prophets of the One True God.
Fourteen hundred years later, their descendants are still the elite of a united world with twelve cross-dimensional colonies.
After several deadly clashes between Dimension Age civilizations, the newly fledged Department of Interdimensional Security and Cooperation is attempting, with fair success, to keep the peace among the growing number of worlds exploring the Multiverse.
So a group of youngsters in the Empire of the One, straight out of college, can concentrate on their first assignments and hope to join the teams that explore new worlds.
Copyright © 2017 Pamela Uphoff
All Rights Reserved
ISBN
978-1-939746-23-8
This is a work of fiction.
All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional.
Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Excerpt from an upcoming publication
What I'm Reading
About the Author
Other Books by Pam Uphoff
Chapter One
17 Rajab 1404
New York City, North American Region, One World
"Here's another one." Ra'd slid out a tiny tray. Ebsa's car is full of surprises. "It's long enough to hold an extended magazine. Too flat to get a pistol into."
Paer giggled. "You would think in terms of weapons. I'd put pencils and pens in there." She dug out a couple and dropped them in.
"They'll roll around and give it away with the rattle." Ra'd's turn to hunt through his backpack . . . The perfect place to hide it. At least until I see how the wind blows. Action Team Twenty-nine. Alone dammit.
How could they post someone like Ebsa to Operations?
The subdirectorate that runs the powered gates. Maintenance and repairs, scheduling, vehicles, equipment, fuels and supplies . . . very necessary, but Ebsa's wasted there.
Medical division is probably a good posting for Paer . . . so long as they realize how talented she is in the field, in emergencies.
He found some handkerchiefs, sissy embroidered things his stepmother had sent. Stuffed them into the tray, as he quickly slid the rusty metal rod to the very back. It barely fit, jammed at a slight angle, but that was fine, it would stay back there, out of sight. "The handkerchiefs will immobilize the pencils."
He closed the tray and eased back.
"I didn't even suspect it was there." Paer pressed and pulled and finally figured out how to open it. She added a small notebook to her pencils without, as far as Ra'd could tell, noticing the rod.
Excellent.
Ebsa, from the back seat, whistled. "Yow, the police missed this one!"
Ra'd looked over the seat. Double compartment. The shallow tray hidden under the first held a trio of knives. Ra'd reached and pulled a knife out of its bracket. "Composite. Metal detector would never find it. Beautiful work."
They only found one more secret compartment. A tiny thing that couldn't hold much.
ID cards, cash cards and a few bills.
No wonder Ebsa wanted his father's car. Ra'd thought about the rod he'd just hidden. All I have from my father, his Bag of the Prophets. Well, and half my genes and a half sister. I guess maybe the special qualities of the car may not be the primary reason Ebsa is so pleased.
He pulled out an extra cash card and stuck it in there. "If you decide to sell the car, let me know. I'd love to spend more time searching for secret stashes."
Ebsa glanced at the flat tray. "And retrieve everything you hid in here?"
Ha! I was so busy making sure Paer didn't see the bag, I forgot about Ebsa.
Ebsa closed the secret knife rack, and climbed out of the car. "I must be insane to be keeping it."
Paer shook her head. "Nope, it's a really really nice car. Pearly white. A bit above average size. Unobtrusive quality. Something a junior executive would drive. Or a senior executive, when he didn't want to be chauffeured around in his limo. And totally cool, what with all the secret compartments."
"Yeah, but I still want to go Across. Preferably on an Explorer Team."
Paer nodded. "No surprise Ra'd made teams right off . . . But we'll all get there eventually."
If they'd stop being stupid about Ebsa being a Clostuone. The people in charge either didn't listen to the recommendations of our teachers, or more likely are breaking us up deliberately.
"Soon." Ebsa sounded determined. "We'll all get on Teams, and I won't need a car."
One of the guards, Uhto, tapped a window. "Bulletproof glass. Laser reflective." Approving tones.
Ebsa nodded. "Ox said it's got ballistic panels in the doors."
"Ox?" Foem was another new guard, just assigned to Paer as she was moving from New York to Gate City. They would be following her to Gate City . . . and were not very pleased with their orders to not guard her while she was working.
"Well, since you guys are Presidential Directorate Guards, and will hopefully see a lot of me, I suppose you should get the expanded explanation."
Ra'd snickered. "I think you should leave them in the dark, speculating."
Ebsa cleared his throat. "Ox is Axhe Withione Blackpoint. The Senior Investigator who investigated my father's murder. My father's last wife, Raod Withione Almedia Montevideo—technically my stepmother even though I had never met her until after my father died—was divorcing him when he was murdered. So Raod inherited all of my Father's stuff, including the car. Ox married her about four years later. As part of the investigation, the police examined the car. Which is how I learned about most of the secret compartments."
The guards all eyed him. "You're on a first name basis with him?"
"Now. The stepmother paid my college tuition before I transferred to the directorate school. Oh, umm, Raod is Rael's sister, by-the-way. We were all three suspects in the murder. It all happened while Rael was down there rehabbing."
Uhto grinned. "I knew she had a sister, and niece and nephew. I didn't know you were related."
Ebsa shrugged. "It's a reach to call it that."
Paer thumped him. "Silly. That's a brag point. But where are you going to park it? Are you going to splurge for an apartment, right off the bat?"
"I suspect that I'll feel rich, once I get my first paycheck." Ebsa shook his head. "But considering the state of my bank balance, I think I'll plan on living in the barracks for awhile."
Paer nodded, looking a bit wishful. She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "My guards are trying to set up a new bastion for me.
I told them it had to be close to the Secured Gate Area, since I'll be working there."
Ra'd snorted. "Barracks for me as well, unless this Team Twenty-nine has assigned quarters."
"And I'm going to plan on storing the car, most of the time. Someplace where I can get to it on weekends." Ebsa's hand twitched, probably suppressing an impulse to stoke the car before he turned away. "So . . . anybody want to ride to Gate City in my new car?"
Paer's safe house—and off-campus domicile for her guards—was almost packed up. They had a snackish sort of meal around the table, Ebsa on his comp, searching for secure parking that wasn't too inconvenient, and Paer searching for apartments near the SGA that met her guards' requirements.
Paer tapped an advert, leaning to show it to the nearest guard. "Zyar? How about this one? Six levels, twenty apartments, just four to a floor, with common spaces on the ground floor, parking in the basement."
"No. No basement parking. A bomb could bring down the whole building."
Paer sighed and clicked to the next one, checked the map, next. Check the map. Grimace.
Ebsa shrugged. "Storage's not too expensive, mainly because it's all so inconvenient. I think I'll take one that also has long-term storage, in case I ever get on a Team."
Ra'd nodded. No matter how bad the team I get put on, if Ebsa was there as well, I could deal with it. Hell, the two of us can back down anything and anyone.
Please God, let me be on a decent team, because it looks like he won't be there to watch my back.
"Here. Seven floors, a parking garage behind it." Paer tried again, this time with more success.
"Right. Three bedrooms, two parking places." The other two guards left their posts briefly to look it over and nodded approval. "We'll look it over when we get there tomorrow."
Paer sighed. "Your job ends when I walk through the door of the medical center. Got it?"
Three reluctant nods.
"You can go check out this apartment, and any others that look promising. But don't rent one until I approve of it." She glowered. "I really hoped we could just shake hands and part ways. No offense, but I'm a Directorate Agent, now."
"Yes. But you are also still the president's daughter." Firm, unyielding tones. "We've got hotel reservations until you move in somewhere secure."
Ra'd wasn't the only one who slept poorly. They got an early start, The guards following Ebsa's car. Ra'd lost a bet with himself as Ebsa drove smoothly and professionally. No showing off. Taking the corridor from the New York suburbs to the Gate City suburbs cut off what used to be an eighteen hundred kilometer drive or train ride. They arrived before the local dawn.
Ebsa glanced at Ra'd. "Barracks first stop, to drop off our stuff. Then I'll go stash the car, and hunt down my new boss." He eyed the orders on his comm. "Administrator Ofme. Building 18, SGA."
Paer perked up. "That's close to the medical center. Ra'd? I suppose you'll be across more than either of us."
"Probably. I'll be reporting in to Directorate Headquarters, first."
Chapter Two
18 Rajab 1404 yp
Gate City, North American Region, One World
Ra'd gave the seventh floor of Directorate Headquarters a quick scan. The building was smaller than he'd expected, but then each subdirectorate had a building—or several—inside the Secured Gate Area. Headquarters was outside to make outsiders' visits easier. Still . . . He'd expected more.
The woman at the front desk was . . . ordinary. Oh, she had the glow of a Oner, but it was both low level and rather weakly shielded.
"One" forbid they should hire a Halfer or worse! Gasp! A Multitude for a perfectly ordinary job.
She scanned the chip he extended, read something on her comp screen, and sent him off to a corner office, or rather office suite. Complete with another secretary.
This female watchdog, Gauj, according to the little triangle on her desk, had the unmistakable glow of a trained Princess showing just as much and not a hair more than she intended.
She nodded her grey head toward the inner door. "The subdirector will see you. Go in."
Ra'd tapped and entered.
Subdirector Ebko was a big man, heavy as well as tall. Muscular, the way he stalked around his desk. Pissed, from the way he crossed his arms and leaned back against it.
"So. You're the fool who fell for a Fallen bitch, and derailed an elegant spur-of-the-moment gambit to finally get the government off its ass and doing something to stop Disco."
Ra'd controlled his breathing and raised an eyebrow. "I believe the correct term is 'witch' with a double-u."
The subdirector ignored him. "You brought down the Governor of North America and the Police Chief of New York District. You got Director Ujmw fired."
Ra'd decided to ignore all that. "What do you want to stop Disco from doing?"
"Controlling the Empire. Stopping us from going anywhere we want, whenever we want." Ebko scowled. "And don't think you're hot enough property to get away with anything here. You'll be watched, you little native lover. You've compromised your security rating, and we don't like traitors. Now, we're going to take the training you had at the school, and complete it. We're reforming several teams, including Team Twenty-nine, of which you are now a member. You will be training with them, and working with them as soon as we've tested you, and fixed any holes in your experience."
He reached back to his desk and flipped a chip to Ra'd. "Go. And remember, we've got our eyes on you. Don't fail again."
Ra'd caught the chip, turned and stepped to the door.
"You will not ever see that bitch again. She's used you, and you are done."
Ra'd paused, then turned the knob and walked out. I cannot not hit my putative superior on the first day. Dammit.
He ran the chip into his mini comp. Orders, this time to show up at a building in the SGA. Right. I've had the warning from on high. Now I can meet the people I'll actually be working with.
Or get evaluated with the rest of the incoming Teamers.
Ra'd got a glare for being late, and took the end position in the line up. The Team Track part of his graduating class. No one got onto Teams who hadn't come from the Directorate School.
Ape and Blob. Unfortunately very well known. Ed, Oh Hey, Yuck, and Idjit . . . also well known. Not nice, but followers. The other three were less well known, He'd only spent one year in the same martial arts class with them. Not bullies like the others, but also not friends.
None of the women. I wonder if they are being evaluated separately, or if, like Paer, they weren't assigned to Teams?
Enbw , a grey hulk the older Teamers called Elbow, was running their evaluations.
"We'll start with Martial Arts. The Leaders of Teams Five, Twelve, Fifteen, and Twenty-one will observe. Team Twenty-nine will assist, as they're only short a single man."
First good news. I won't be with any of my fellow brutes. But following the direction of Elbow's gaze he eyed the eleven men. Four standing a little apart from the seven, and every damned one of them glowing with a taste of violence, eager near-anger. Hard to tell from a distance, but at least some of them had that twist of hunger he associated with the men who enjoyed the worst elements of their jobs.
Great. One of those Teams. One trusts their orders are to not rape, beat or kill the natives of any foreign worlds. Any more.
"Dress out, roll out the mats, and lets get to work."
Ape snickered. "Now you're going to get what you deserve."
***
Ebsa managed to not squirm under the disapproving gaze of Subdirector of Operations Idro Withione Alcairo.
"Bad enough they send me all the Clostuones who manage to squeak through the Directorate School, but a disrespectful rebellious grandstanding asshole is not what I want or need. Watch your step. Now get downstairs to the main assembly room with the rest of the newbies."
"Yes, sir." Ebsa tried to not look like he was running away, as he turned and left the subdirector's "field office."
; Down one level, he followed the noise and found himself in a crowd, among them a few familiar faces from school. No one else who was on the Team Track at the school.
". . . it is our duty to keep the gates running. To keep all the equipment and vehicles operating. To get supplies to where they are needed, when they are needed."
The man talking was wearing a suit. Ebsa was the only other person here in one. He pulled off the tie and folded it into a pocket. Popped the two front buttons and slid the coat off, hanging it over his arm, and tried to pay attention as he worried at the shirt cuff buttons.
"We've looked over your records and assigned you where you fit best, and where we most need competent people. We'll swap people around at need, so this first year you'll probably learn three or four jobs. And no, this year you won't be getting anywhere near the rings. Do well where we put you and maybe next year you'll go to Gate School.
"Now, if your orders say Maintenance, see that fellow under the Maintenance sign . . . Repairs, Scheduling, Vehicles, Equipment, Fuel, and Supplies same. Got it?"
Ebsa looked at his comp. The orders . . . Operations Subdirectorate . . . Report directly to the Subdirector. And down the page a bit, it still said Scheduling. He eeled through the crisscross moving crowd to find himself alone, under the eye of a disapproving older woman.
"So you're the trouble-maker, eh? Well, come along. One only knows what you're capable of . . . " She glanced over her shoulder. "I'm Huul. Pronounced like the hull of a ship."
Ebsa nodded. "Ma'am." Received a glare. "Sir?"
"Oh, aren't you the funny one." She led him into an elevator. "I'm the Chief of Scheduling. Either call me Chief or call me Huul."
"Yes, Chief." Ebsa followed her out of the elevator and into . . . a huge space full of miniature offices with three quarters high walls. Oh One Hell. This doesn't look good. Cages for bureaucrats . . . no, that's too high. Cages for clerks. No doors. You can leave anytime you can repay the cost of your education. And hope like hell you can find a company that will hire you.