by Pam Uphoff
Paer had to resort to her meditation exercises to get to sleep.
She walked the course—an all new set up, of course—early in the morning. Paced out a few turns into a jump she thought Noir might have trouble with.
She found a good spot to watch in person for a few rounds, then back to the barn for prep.
Noir was ready to go. Okqi kept them to the same order they'd done round one and Paer trotted out first. Focus. Nod to judge. Rip around the course, watch stride length just there, check a bit for the tight in-and-out, gallop around the corner, gather up for the last leap . . . done and clear.
Efro on Soup, a little more control, clean but with a time fault. Isgu on Crystal. slowed too much before the last big spread. Knocked a pole off. Okqi, tiny time fault.
Drop Isgu's score; minus 0.62 faults for the Paris team.
But the best four teams remained . . . Two clear, two with time faults.
Paris Division, sixth place.
The judges conferred. The top eight teams were uncontested, even with a four way tie for first. No need for a jump off to determine which eight teams advanced to the final medal round.
"Thank the One," Ezli muttered. "Last Olympics there was a ten way tie. Forty bloody horses to jump. It took them until three in the morning. That's why the times are so tight. They didn't want to do that again."
***
The Olympic dome was twenty miles from the equestrian venue. They vanned the horses much closer, riding the last two miles. The police closed the roads, so they rode, waving to the cheering crowds. Noir pranced a bit, Paer had her hands full until he decided roads lined with noisy people were not too threatening. The teams for the other sports came in from their assembly spots, and the equestrians slotted in fairly easily, one circuit of the arena and then they could escape to peace and quiet.
***
The final course was a huge big galloping course . . . with a couple of sharp turns and an in-and-out tight enough to be a problem for a fast moving horse to fit a stride in without crowding the second element.
"Noir isn't going to appreciate having to slow down."
Efro nodded. "I hate jumps like this."
And the infamous water jump. "The full four meters. Ugg. Escalade has been known to not give a damn about getting his feet wet."
Back out to warm up the horses.
This time the organizers assigned the slots so first one rider from each team went, then a second rider from each team . . . Paris drew slots one, twelve, nineteen and twenty-nine.
Okli bit his lip . . . "All right. Paer, get us a nice fast clean round to build on. Isgu? Crystal seems to fret a bit, hanging around, so you're second. Efro? More warm up, third. Then I'll either hustle to improve a good score or play it safe."
Going first was almost a relief. Focus. Settle. Feel the horse. Nod, go. Noir loved the big course, laid his ears back when she slowed him for the in-and-out. He popped in and out nicely so she let him express his ire with a few long rough strides, collected him just enough for control and he took the water hazard with a huge leap. Turn, over the last spread and done. Clean, and glancing at the timer, well within the time limit.
There. Beat that. She walked Noir cool, listening to the announcer. Dismounted and turned him over to Davy.
Snip, grinning, gave her a thumbs up. "The President's here. He said he'd see you for dinner, and expected you to be wearing a gold medal."
She grinned. "Of course he's here. The President always has to make an appearance at the Olympics. In fact, if I hadn't made the team, I'd be sitting up there with him."
She walked out and found a big screen to watch on, watch the tallies of scores for a moment. Then she walked out to watch Crystal and Isgu warming up.
Chewed fingernails and watched them swoop around clean. Perfect. Under the time limit. She heaved a relieved breath and gave the grinning Isgu a thumbs up.
Efro scorched around the course. Had trouble hauling Soup in for the in-and-out, but she made it with an awkward pop, cleared the water, cleared the spread. Clean.
Whoops and cheers from the Paris contingent, both in the stabling and out in the stands. With three clear rounds they were in the jump off. So far only Caracas and Alcairo were also clear, but their third riders hadn't jumped yet. And all eight teams had their fourth rider yet to go, a chance to drop off a lower score.
The third Homestead team rider had a time fault, as had their first. No hope for a gold there, but . . .
Alcairo rolled a pole off. Caracas was clean.
Paer trotted back to the stabling, where Noir and Crystal were being saddled. Mounted up and walked Noir to the warm-up ring with one ear to the announcer.
Fourth round. Last chance for four teams. All with time faults.
Trot a few laps until Noir was moving easily. Click tsk division on Homestead knocked a pole off. Peking was clean this round, but already out of contention. Queensland had a time fault. The Rajasthan rider pulled a pole, to a groan from the local crowd.
Paer cantered Noir, asked for speed and popped a couple of low jumps.
Okqi's round, Escalade stuck a hoof in the water on landing. No matter, they had three clear already.
Tsavo division, a time fault.
Alcairo . . . pulled a pole.
So. A two team jump off.
Coin flip. Caracas first.
A nasty, twisty course. Two tight jumps.
"Ouch!" Paer shrugged, grinned at Isgu. "Crystal will love it."
Efro sighed. "Prayer is my only possible recourse."
Okli snorted. "We can all do this. Four clear rounds. Betcha."
Back to warming up. Focusing. Feeling the horse. The horse was unhappy. He'd already jumped today, gotten unsaddled, relaxed in his stall. This wasn't fair. Paer leaned and hugged him. "I know. Even if I am just guessing, I'll bet I'm right."
Okli looked over at her and grinned. "Right. Efro, Soups ready, so you're first. I'm going second while Escalade is warm. Isgu with Crystal. Paer . . . I hate leaving you at the end, with the worst horse for this course, and him not looking too cheerful."
"I'll see if I can cheer him up enough to shorten his strides in the right places." Paer waited until the warm-up ring was clear, then let him gallop. Stretch out, collect around the corner, speed up . . . Three laps and his ears were up and he looked like he wanted to run forever.
"I hope that wasn't exactly the wrong things to do." Paer steered him out, paying attention now and heard Efro's clear round announced. She glanced over at Snip.
"Minus four for Caracas. All we need is no poles down."
"And we've got one." Paer listened, barely hearing the tick of a hoof hitting wood, a faint groan from the crowd. "Drat."
Isgu was announced, and Paer walked Noir into the entry area. Focus now. Feel the horse. Happy, still a little "up" from the brief run. Thunderous applause. She looked up to see the grinning Isgu exit.
Focus. A little trot around. Nod. Go. Two jumps at a good gallop, slow and turn. A tight right turn pop the oxer, tight left turn hop hop through the in-and-out. Faster for the big spread, U turn, as quick and tight as possible. Gallop for the water, huge leap and race over the finish. No poles down. Did I do it?
Judging by the applause, yes.
Then it was time to peel out the jacket, take off the padded safety vest, the over sized crash helmet, thirty seconds to spruce up, back in a clean, non sweaty jacket, the stylish helmet. Climb up to the top tier. Polite handshakes when she wanted to hug everyone.
A victory lap, and back to the stables.
With the medal.
Holy Friggin' One! I just won an Olympic Gold medal.
She must have said it out loud. The other three laughed at her.
Okqi nodded. "So win another one in two days. If you can beat me."
Isgu nodded. "You can do it. All you have to decide is whether to ride Noir or Crystal."
"Or Soup. I had a rail down in round one, so I'm out."
Paer swallowed. "There
were that many clear rounds?"
"Forty-two riders with only time faults." Ezli thump up behind them on crutches. "So you two are in. They'll be wanting you to declare which horse by about noon tomorrow. What's it going to be?"
"Crystal, unless she's lame tomorrow."
"Good. You've beaten the hell out of everyone on her all year." He glanced over his shoulder at an approaching limo. "But now I suspect you have a dinner date."
A laugh from the car. "I know my daughter too well."
Paer got a hug, everyone else got handshakes and congratulations. And really primo sandwiches and non-alcoholic drinks and a ride to the dorms, where she barely stayed awake long enough to shower.
And two days later collected her second gold medal.
Chapter Twenty
6 Shaban 1398
Paris, Paris Division, One World
It was almost a shock to be back home. Back into a world that did not revolve around horses.
It felt so odd . . . and . . . like one of those forks in the road of her future, that she'd never noticed before. Paer looked around Rael's office as she walked in and plunked her comp down across the work table from Ra'd. Not an office. I don't think I want the path that leads to an office job.
"So you have two weeks off?" Rael kicked back in her chair, looking relaxed, despite the wrap on her left wrist.
"Yeah. Then the team goes off to show off at a round of shows." Paer frowned at the wrap.
Ra'd laughed.
Have I ever heard him laugh?
"She decked Isakson. It was beautiful. Well worth a sprained wrist."
"You hit him so hard you sprained your wrist?"
Rael giggled. "Nope. I got close enough that he thought I was going for the old knee-to-the-crotch kick, and I came over with a right elbow strike to his jaw. He got me with a leg sweep even as he went down, and that's when I sprained it. Bad landing." She felt her grin spreading. "Nearly as much fun as two gold medals."
"I thought head blows were forbidden?"
"Unfortunately I have advanced to the 'real workout' level." Rael giggled. "And he's right. in a real fight, the head and neck with be prime targets and you must practice to both hit the opponent's and protect your own. Major Eppa made us wear light weight helmets."
Ra'd snorted. "Isakson was rude about it, but said it might help these modern softies get over their squeamishness. Then Rael . . . " He broke off, snickering. Then straightened and tapped at his comp. Turned the display for Paer to see. "And I have been productive."
She huffed out a disbelieving breath. "It's barely been four months! How'd you pass ten subjects!"
Ra'd snorted. "I applied myself to Mythology. Then I started the science classes. The holographic labs are . . . a reasonable substitute for the real thing. Math is fairly easy."
Paer scowled. "Well . . . I'll be catching up fast, now." Am I really half a year behind Ra'd . . . and where I ought to be? Ouch!
Ra'd raised an eyebrow. "I'll be testing out of Geography next week. And I've already started a new semester."
Paer sniffed. "Oh, I passed Geography while I was at Linz. "
"I'm not sure that having a competition is a good idea." Princess Feol, the head of the Directorate's female guards, stalked through the door. Glaring at Rael.
Rael gave a fiendish grin, and giggled. Guaranteed to irritate Fool.
Fool's glare deepened.
Paer rolled her eyes. "What she's trying to convey without being blunt is that if I show the faintest sign of a crush on Ra'd, yell for help immediately to get me away from his pernicious presence."
Ra'd snorted. "I do not look enough like a horse to attract Paer's affections. However amusing watching the panic might be." He leaned back and cocked his head, studying Rael. "What would you do?"
Rael giggled again and tapped at her comp, sent a file to the big wall vid.
Fool started laughing as a picture of Endi filled the screen. "Oh, you play dirty."
The vid cam pulled back and the sound came up. Endi and another man were walking out of a large barn.
Voice over, a low mutter. "King's Own stabling, on the palace grounds."
The shorter man was leading a bright golden chestnut. A loose horse was following Endi. Dark chestnut, no markings, hackmore, no bit. Endi's teeth flashed and he laughed as he turned to the darker horse. Paer gave up on analysis and sat back to watch in pure esthetic awe as Endi vaulted on without stirrups. The camera followed them out of sight around a corner.
Paer huffed out the breath she'd been holding. "Oh, wow! Play it again!"
And again.
Paer sat back with a sigh. "What an incredible horse! Do you have any more . . . stop laughing!"
Rael wiped her eyes. "Right. I'll have to see if we can get more horse vids. I think they'll work very well."
Ra'd was watching the vid as the rest played out. "Long swords for the officers and nobles, big knives for the rest of the men, and some of the women, worn like tools, not weapons. A few bows, but none strung, so far." His doodle this time was a big blocky 42, with highlights and shading.
Paer focused back on the vid, her eyes automatically drawn to the animals. "The ordinary horses are ordinary, but a few of the . . . fancy dressed people have beauties." Thoroughbreds . . . that one's got some arab in his bloodlines . . . or that's what I'd think if he was here. Of course, they will have a completely different history of domestication, splitting off some time before the industrial revolution . . . "What's their history? They look, apart from the lack of cars and preponderance of horses, rather normal."
Rael nodded. "People reading books, kids having sword fights with wooden swords. There's at least one hospital. No beggars, no one starving in the gutter. Steam engines, here and there. We should never have considered it a Target. If we'd approached them like we did Homestead, we might have some enthusiastic allies, or voluntary members of the Empire." She stared at the scene. "Fool, have they released the genetic data?"
"One Hell no. They're . . . throwing fits over it, and keeping it as quiet as possible." Fool glanced at the two teenagers and sighed. "It's classified, you two. But the Comet Fall Natives have a high incidence of genetic engineering, including chromosome insertions nearly identical to ours, and power collecting genes that are not as close, but still very similar." Fool eyed them. "You will not talk about that with anyone but us few."
Ra'd's eyes were unfocused, thoughtful. "Those Left Behind."
"Or an early Exploration Team, marooned. We lost some of the first people across, a century ago." Rael shrugged. "In any case, we've pissed on any hope of friendship." Her eyes drifted back to the wall screen, frozen on the opening still. She blinked a couple of times.
Fighting tears? Paer winced. Poor Rael! I think she really fell for Endi, and now she'll never see him again. Except in reports. I can't hardly envision him as an enemy spy. She eyed the woman, as she shrugged and turned away from the vid. Pretending it doesn't hurt. Is love worth it?
Paer sighed. "Give me ten years, then I'll think about falling in love. Right now I need to focus on school." A glance toward Ra'd. "I guess it's time for biology, and maybe Geography II instead of more history."
Ra'd snorted. "I'm concentrating on Multiverse subjects, next. History, government, and cultures of other worlds, mostly. Actual mythology and religions."
Paer tapped at her comp to bring up those classes. One! I ought to be doing all of those already. Maybe if I keep my mouth shut I can finish the ones I'm signed up for and then start these without spurring Ra'd into staying ahead of me. "Sounds interesting. Native governments . . . do any of them except Homestead have any governments beyond the tribal level?"
Fool sniffed. "No. Until we annex them. And have to start treating the natives as equals."
Ra'd stiffened. "Either every human is equal under the government and the law, or the One have become tyrants." He glanced at the wall screen. "That was a mistake from the very start."
Paer frowned at him. "The Prophet
s were, arguably, tyrants."
A black glare. "They were fighting for their lives, having arrived in the middle of a war. But they still held to the principles of individual rights and individual responsibility. And from what I've read, once they'd won the war, the Warriors disseminated themselves into the population . . . oh, excuse me, the Natives, and became less tyrannical with every generation."
His pencil swept out a crescent moon and moved on to the star, without, as far as Paer could see, him even glancing at the paper.
"Multitude. They were an industrial civ." Fool growled. "Natives are primitives."
Ra'd glanced at the screen and snorted. "The end of the War of Unification ushered in the golden age of science and tech advances. See? I've learned all the mythology. Unfortunately the Warriors' ambitious descendants bred themselves back up into the Ones, and the One itself failed to return to the multitude." Ra'd shrugged. "Pack of nobles, these days, with privileges. Looking down their noses and pretending that thirty-two—or more—of their chromosomes aren't from the Multitude."
Paer choked. "It's not that bad!"
"It's not bad, at all. That Ones are now only—at the most—thirty percent different from the people the Prophets found here. What's bad is thinking that having some special abilities somehow moves us beyond mere human and into a position of privilege by virtue of group identity, not individual worth."
Rael leaned back and eyed him. "I think you'd better plan on majoring in science. At the college level you might be strung up as a heretic by the humanities department."
Snort. "I shall probably attend a military academy. Possibly the Directorate School."
Paer took in the adults' expressions and giggled. "They're thinking about you as a Presidential Guard. But I can see you in an Action Team."
He nodded. "Yes. But more likely, I'll go back to the Army."
Paer looked back at the vid screen. A Multitude of worlds full of horses. And other animals. People.
This is one of those forks in the road I've been blind to.