Dancer (Wine of the Gods Book 15)

by Pam Uphoff

  Ox snorted. Yeah. Right. We both know you'll leave whenever you wish. "Now, if you'll excuse me, the Regional Investigator wants a briefing. And . . . it's going to be a doozy."

  He headed for the door . . . hesitated beside Raod. And somehow dredged up the nerve. "So, how about dinner someday?"

  Raod blinked. Raised elegant eyebrows. "Pick me up at seven."

  ***

  Rael hid a grin, and opened her comm to reread the message from Urfa. It was brief.

  [Last thing we needed. Earth is active on Target Forty-two again. I'll keep you up to date, but as one of the few experts we have on those 'Natives,' I hope you can return to Paris soon.]

  I'd better get back to the weights, and running. First thing in the morning.

  History of the Empire of the One

  The population of this particular Earth was devastated by a global nuclear war in the mid-twentieth century, possibly triggered by the Tunguska impact occurring in the 1960's rather than 1908.

  A hundred years later, the three global powers were China, The Islamic Republic, and Greater Argentina. Their relationship was adversarial from the start, with the Islamics taking over India and vying for the possible cornucopia of advanced technical knowledge in the depopulated ruins of Europe, North America and Australia.

  In the year 2115, thirty-five strangers walked out of nowhere and into an ambush the Chinese had set up for a major Islamic expedition into Eastern Europe. The genetically engineered explorers had telekinetic abilities that saved most of them. Only two were killed in the first volley. They joined forces with the Islamic expedition and destroyed the Chinese Army. Between their "magic" and considerable political scheming, they suborned the religion to their own purposes, with themselves as the new Prophets.

  The Prophets intermarried with the natives, and being very long lived, later married each others' daughters. That large third generation, frequently called "the Warriors of the One" were trained in magic, developed spells of use in battle, and led the conquest of the rest of the world. The Prophets assisted in the reacquisition of a lot of tech, and supported research beyond that.

  Especially research into dimensional travel.

  By the old calendar, 1396 Year of the Prophets, is 3515 AD.

  In the revised Calendar of the Prophets, the year begins on the first New Moon following the Winter Solstice. The months (partly from the Islamic calendar, but with additions and substitutions) begin with every new moon. They are, in order: Muharram (starts the first new moon after the Winter Solstice), Safar, Rabi, Emre (the Leader of the New Prophets), Jumada, Rajab, Yusef (New Prophet), Nicholas (New Prophet), Shaban, Qadah, Hija, Shawwal, Ramadan, and Furkan (named after the shortest of the New Prophets, it fills in the time between the end of Ramadan and the first new moon following the Winter Solstice. Generally ten or eleven days long.)

  About the Author

  I was born and raised in California, and have lived more than half my life, now, in Texas.

  Wonderful place. I caught almost the first bachelor I met here, and we’re coming up on our thirty-fifth anniversary.

  My degree's in Geology. After working for an oil company for almost ten years as a geophysicist, I “retired” to raise children. As they grew, I added oil painting, sculpting and throwing clay, breeding horses, volunteering in libraries and for the Boy Scouts, and treasurer for a friend’s political campaign. Sometime in those busy years, I turned a love of science fiction into a part time job reading slush (Mom? Someone is paying you to read??!!)

  I've always written, published a few short stories. But now that the kids have flown the nest, I'm calling writing a full time job.

  Empire is my twelfth novel. I've also issued three collections of novellas and short stories, and published separately three other short stories.

  I'm planning to bring out at least four more books this year. Two of them are manuscripts that I've pulled out the batch making the rounds of publishers, so they should go up quickly. I've got two new books in the Wine of the Gods Universe under way. And then a third "Zoey Ivers" book in the Doors series. So I may manage to squeak in a fifth book before the end of the year.

  I need to find the time to get more books out in print, out to Kobo, Sony, B&N . . . I need to find the time to invent a time machine . . .

  Other Titles by Pam Uphoff

  Wine of the Gods Series:

  Outcasts and Gods

  Exiles and Gods (Three Novellas)

  The Black Goats

  Explorers

  Spy Wars

  Comet Fall

  A Taste of Wine (Seven Tales)

  Dark Lady

  Growing Up Magic (Four Novellas)

  Young Warriors

  God of Assassins

  Empire of the One

  Dancer

  The Dark Side of the Moon (Six Stories 2014)

  Earth Gate (2014)

  Archetypes (2014)

  The Lawyers of Mars

  Writing as Zoey Ivers

  The Barton Street Gym

  Chicago

  Atlantis (2014)

  Demi God

  Excerpt from an Upcoming Release

  Earth Gate

  Pam Uphoff

  Chapter One

  1 June 3492 ce

  Nowhereistan, Earth

  Jamie Felis concealed his excitement behind a relaxed demeanor. He wasn't going to goggle like a tourist, like some, well, seventeen year old. He was large for his age, and hadn't had any trouble with Basic. Everyone thought he was just another green private, not a trained spy on a training mission to get a feel for the possibilities.

  He needed to prove himself. They all did. All the native kids, born while their parents were on Earth. The Earth. Other world were given different names, without regard to their natives' preferences. His parents were from a world they called Purple, and said it was his home, even though he'd never set foot on it. Named because the ruling elite had a weird gene that tinted their skin and hair.

  Not that he was actually purple. His parents were just low level staff. So Jamie had been born and raised on Earth. But the people on Purple had some odd mutations, or possibly deliberate genetic engineering. And possibly psychic abilities. As did the natives of a world the Earth was very interested in. And suddenly Jamie Felis and a few of his buddies were hot property instead of second class non-citizens.

  At the behest of the training project, he'd joined the Army. They'd pulled strings and gotten him assigned to this specific post.

  Comet Fall, they were calling this world, apparently because a comet had hit it a thousand year previously. And another was due in nine months or so. He was one of the few Purps in the Army, and they were still experimenting, trying to find out what he could do. This was the latest experiment. The Native mutants had all sorts of ESP and what not, and they needed to know if the Natives could read his mind. His main coach, Mr. Hubble, had told him that there was an outside chance he could intercept their mental communications.

  It was all guesses, and only one way to find out. So here he was, Private Felis hopping on a Jeep to ride into this whirling tornado of light. He shot a glance at the rest of the squad. They were relaxed, not even looking at the maelstrom they were about to drive into. He started at the floor of the Jeep and pretended to the same indifference. The sergeant snorted. "You pukes aren't convincing us at all, just gawp and get it out of your system. You'll be plenty bored by the time your year is up."

  The line of vehicles started moving. The tanker of fuel, the trucks loaded with ammo and chow—mostly chow, there apparently hadn't been a shot fired since the disastrous encounter his instructors had tried to euphemize into something other than the complete defeat the Army orientation had bluntly called it. The vids had been . . . interesting.

  No surprise the Government had clandestinely broken all the rules about natives. Whatever those freaks had, they needed to either acquire or learn how to stop. Preferably both. His jeep reached the edge of the whirlpool and drove in
as if the driver was blind. He was twisted and wrung and spit out the far side, screaming.

  He shut his mouth abruptly as the rest of the squad looked at him. "Felis, this is not a thrill ride, and you are supposed to be old enough to not scream even on a rollercoaster."

  "Yes, Sergeant." Great Start. Impress the squad.

  Comet Fall Camp was pretty straight forward. Fuel tank, water tank, motor pool and mechanics to the left, three rows of the common expandable box buildings to the right. Housing and offices, no doubt.

  The outgoing troops whipped by them and were eaten by the whirlpool.

  They all fell to, offloading their gear in front of their assigned box.

  Two of the three platoons of the company were always on this side of the Gate. Two weeks out of six, they'd be rotated back across the Gate for leave and training. Jamie had joined his platoon three days before they rotated back across, and was still trying to find his place in the group. At the moment, at the bottom rung, it was the cubicle nearest the latrine. No doubt he would get to clean it really soon. At least he hoped so. It smelled much too bad to sleep next to. The departing troops had left them a few presents.

  His wish was instantly granted, and with a bit of work to get the disassembled toilets operational and application of elbow grease and the mod was fit for habitation.

  He racked his gear quickly and exactly as he'd been drilled in boot camp, and turned out promptly for his first duty station inspection.

  Captain Orobona obviously had full confidence in his troops, and it was more of a parade of officers so the new troops would recognize them without rank markings. Jamie took note of them all, especially the HQ type officers, creatures often rumored to be touchy about their rank. Not that there were many. The company was a bit thin, the duty station not requiring, not allowing, much movement, so they were light on vehicles and the associated maintenance people, and got by with a minimum of paper pushers on this side of the Gate.

  Cycling people out as they did, Jamie figured they must have right about a hundred men on the ground. And women, although not many. He eyed them sidelong. For whatever reason, stuffy out-dated customs, most likely, the embassy school he'd attended had kept the boys and girls strictly separated. He hadn't a clue why.

  After he'd been sent to a "Special Prep School for Native Children" five years ago, he'd worked with a few female teachers. But mostly male, and all interested in finding out what odd capabilities he and his fellow students had. It had quickly become obvious that the school had been set up for, and actively recruited kids with genetic engineering. "The project" they sometimes called it. Apparently an effort to understand the potential of the engineered genes.

  About half the students had been from Purple, a few from other worlds including a few half breed bastards from here. And apparently the project didn't want any more halfbreeds. So boot camp had been his first experience with women about his own age and cluelessness. He'd actually managed to talk to several of them.

  Sergeant Johnson, with four raw recruits to his tally, marched them out and around the perimeter of the camp, and had them all stop and get an eyeful of the Natives' building.

  Jamie blinked in consternation at the absurd thing. Carved marble columns and curlicues all over the lintels, it sat in splendid isolation, a green manicured lawn around it, and a few low shrubberies. A stepping stone path down to where they stood, but no other paths, let alone roads, in sight. There was nothing else there. Period.

  "Do they come and go from the other side, Sergeant?" one of the other greenies asked, a young woman named Danielle Something-or-other.

  "No, they have their own sort of Gates. And some of them can just . . . disappear whenever they wish. You'd best be prepared to get really bored keeping an eye on these Natives." He swept a beady eye over their ranks. "And you aren't going to get close to their women, either."

  A giggle drew all their eyes up to the building. Three very attractive women walked out the front door and down the path.

  "Sergeant Johnson, welcome back. I see you have some new people, aren't you going to introduce us?" The blonde in the lead grinned at the sergeant, as he chivvied them back into motion. "Come back later and tell us how your vacation went!"

  The younger blonde waved her fingers and the redhead took a deep, chest-expanding breath,

  "Those," the sergeant said, "are the witches. There are also people who call themselves mages, wizards and gods. You will stay away from them all. Fortunately they rotate through too, so there aren't very many at once, and those damned women will be gone soon."

  On the theory that they should familiarize themselves with the area, they had afternoon duty the first week. The older hands assured him that he'd soon be grateful for the opportunity to get out of camp, even if the alternative was apparently to lay in the long grass beyond the lawn and pretend to be invisible to the women who stepped out to wave at them occasionally.

  Having fully familiarized himself with the grass, Jamie found himself with the additional handicap of night duty and trying to not fall asleep. The first time he nearly nodded off, the sergeant kicked him. The second time a witch kissed him. Hard to tell which approach worked best. The third night he managed fine, on the forth the witch was back. He retreated and she giggled her way back inside.

  "You're new meat, Felis. They'll enjoy playing with you, but if I understand their rotations, they'll be leaving in two more days."

  He nodded gratefully, and he settled down in a new position as the sergeant walked on.

  "When you're off duty, just walk south out of camp." Her soft voice was alluring. "I'll find you."

  Damn all hormones. The kiss she given him had been his first. Just her voice was enough to give him a raging hard on, and he did not dare to look around. After about five minutes he decided he was alone, and his virginity was doomed to survive the night. He had no trouble staying awake until he was relieved two hours later. Half the squad headed for bed, the rest for the mess hall. Snacks and cards, no doubt. He hesitated, then trailed after the bed bound group. Lagged. He hadn't heard about the Natives ambushing anyone. No missing personnel.

  Probably a big game. Lead the New Boy around by his pecker, humiliate him. He walked softly south past the last row of boxes and low crawled through the grass to a low spot in the first line of rolling not-really-hills. Nothing in sight, native or troop. Did they have guards out on this side of the camp? Of course they did. Who was he fooling? Other than himself.

  "The guard? He's sound asleep. He'll be totally ashamed of himself in the morning."

  This time he turned and looked. It was the redhead. Heaven help him. He got to his feet and she led him off.

  He wandered back into camp and found his bed very quietly several hours later. Sleep deprivation had never felt so good.

  The next night the witches were gone, replaced by a teacher-student pair, both male. They walked around apparently doing field studies of prone soldiers. Very unsubtle, they glowed faintly in the dark.

  Ralph Sutter was described as 'twitchy and unrestful', Andy Mengle was 'well grown but un-imaginative'. Corporal Haubin was 'probably snores.'

  Jamie was 'full of potential, untrained', and the sergeant, walking by was 'hopelessly rigid.' They walked on making comments occasionally, but were too far away for him to catch them.

  Afterwards, Jamie went to the mess long enough to assemble and devour a sandwich, then slept like the dead. He was showered and shaved and heading for the mess when the Gate powered up. He hated looking at it, but turning his back on it was even worse. Five trucks and two tankers, an armored Jeep (was it proof against magic?) and the final Jeep with the red flag came out, and the line of returning vehicles rolled through the opposite direction.

  And a Native appeared out of nowhere and collapsed on the ground.

  Even from the distance, Jamie heard the startled curse. A second Native appeared, stooped to pick up the first in a shoulder carry and disappeared again.

  Cars moving there,
troops running there. Jamie circled to a hole and stopped listened carefully.

  Crunching footsteps and whispered curses. "Damn all gods, I do not think you could have picked a worse time . . ."

  The words trailed off as Jamie tried tracking them. He didn't have a weapon, but he'd been learning karate practically all his life. The noise was growing by the Gate and he wasn't sure. Was that a footstep? Was there an invisible native carrying his friend away? Now there were boots pounding toward him. Multiple pairs.

  "What have you got, Felis?"

  "Thought I heard something Sarge. If we could all link hands and cross the area?" If you would all shut up and hold still!

  But if he'd heard the Natives, they'd had time to get away. And shortly thereafter the pair Jamie had seen showed up at the building. The taller of the two big heavy men was still swaying on his feet and was led inside.

  "Damn it, that was that Dydit person, the spy from sixteen years ago, and the one they called the Gate Man." The sergeant spun toward the captain but he was quite busy checking the dispensation of his mobile weapons. He had both the mobile lasers out and the more traditional chemically propelled artillery. Not particularly what a sensible person would use at this range, but it probably looked impressive to the Natives.

  The sergeant walked down and grabbed the attention of one of the paper pushing officers.

  Jamie turned his attention to the . . . force field . . . around the Bank. He ran a hand over the slick cold surface. It was nearly frictionless, and he was glad to hear Corporal Hauban organizing them.

  "Relax," he said. "So they had people in camp checking out the Gate. Only surprise is we actually caught them at it. Saw them." He corrected. "We'll run around a bit, then the Ambassadors will take over and send us packing."

  His prediction was correct.