by Pam Uphoff
It was three in the morning when the car pulled up to her building. She was yawning as the lift deposited her in her hallway, but took a shower anyway. No need to smell like a horse all night long, and once she was standing in the torrent of hot water it was hard to make herself leave. She toweled her hair dry, gazing out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Paris was beautiful at night, lacking the oddities of Old Paris, destroyed in the nuclear wars more than a century before the Prophets had descended to unite the warring survivors. She smiled a bit; the pictures of Old Paris were so unlikely. An over sized power pylon in the center of the city? Bizarre.
***
Urfa Withione Rodos Ottoman flopped into a comfortable chair and smiled wryly at his two closest friends. "Well, we've survived the first six months."
The President snorted. "If I'd thought I had the faintest chance of winning, I'd never have let you two talk me into running."
Qayg smiled thinly. "You two wanted your ideas out there and under discussion. You've succeeded."
President Orde nodded. "Although sometimes I wished I'd appointed someone else to be the Director of Presidential Affairs. I could use your continued advice on the political side, Urfa."
Urfa nodded. "You're still getting it. I just don't seem to be able to find the time to kick back and really hash it over with you, like in the old days." Has it only been thirty years since I quit Internal Relations in disgust, to intern with a councilman from a minority party? He was a generation older than me, and still young for the job. Not to mention young for this job . . . "I'm starting to get a fair team together for sorting intel and investigating odds and ends. I hauled in a couple of young hotshots that were left behind by the old Director. One knows how solid their loyalties are, both War Party members, of course. I really need more people, I need to expand my in-group. Find people I can trust, that one of us knows personally. Like these two."
Qayg straightened. "Idlo and Ahba? Excellent. The word in the princess wing is that they are ambitious, and just joined the War Party because that was the President’s party. I've analyzed all the princesses already assigned to Presidential Security. I recommend you try working with Xiat and Rael. Rael seems at first like a typical pink princess, but there's a brain paying attention behind the facade, and a lot less sex than you'd think, the way she behaves in public. Xiat is the opposite. No men in her life at all, highly analytical. She's getting a bit bored with body guarding and has taken to studying police procedure. And she’s changed her political registration to the Modernists."
"Rael—the redhead with spikes?" Urfa eyed her suspiciously. "Are you a believer in the Archetypes Theory?"
"Only loosely. If you look at any top elite group, you'll find people who fit the traditional parts. But that may be the nature of top teams, nothing to do with the more subtle influences of the One. In any case Rael is now a guard, not a dancer."
Orde chuckled. "I like it. Qayg can be your stone cold killer. Idlo’s your snobby High Oner, and Ahba the Social Climber. Rael the Sex Pot and Xiat the Ice Princess. You just need two more for the traditional seven. Perhaps a Boy Genius, a Priest or a Colonial Bumpkin."
Qayg snickered. "I'm still your Princess, not Urfa's in-group assassin. He needs to find three of the remaining archetypes."
Urfa huffed out an irritated breath. "And then wait and see if they do the traditional 'some of them will fall in love, some will turn traitor and some will die' before I start all over again? Anyhow, you left out the Strong Man, the Wise Old Man, the Celebrity and the Wild Card." He shook his head. Princesses. Too damn many around here. Including my own, who plays at being my secretary and ignores me otherwise. Pity I didn’t get another Qayg. Or a sex pot. I have a nasty feeling mine would be glad to kill me and be done with this totally boring assignment. "On the political end of things, the Council has sent to committee a bill concerning Target Forty-two. They seem determined to start a war there, instead of waiting and going directly to Earth."
The president scrubbed his face. "Their egos are getting tangled up in the matter. I shall have to think of some way to disentangle them. And get them to cough up more information. Please feel free to jump in and make suggestions."
"It's gotten nearly religious." Qayg settled back, frowning. "Information has started bouncing off their minds, instead of sinking in. Now, I'm not one to deride religion, but while the One is devoted to including all, we are very patient. I don't like this aggressive, ambitious desire to expand the Empire at all costs. And especially this desire to start a war with Earth. As Urfa says, it's based on ego, not the One."
Orde grimaced. "They're worse than the Isolationists. Except those splinter isolationists who want us to kill all other peoples, so only the One remains. They must be insane, we're about seven percent of the population. Sooner or later a backlash from the Multitude is going to introduce them to the concept of 'badly outnumbered.' "
"Hopefully sooner." Urfa shrugged. "And then there's us poor Modernists, who dared to point out that the Multitude are equal in law under our constitution, and ought to have greater access to job opportunities, as modern technology means so many 'Oner' positions really don't require magic any more."
Orde nodded. "The absolute primacy of the One over the Multitudes is a relic of the past. They'll never have magic, but that doesn't make them subhuman. And that goes for the Natives of the Colonies as well. We're going to have to deal with that mess as well. Eventually.
"However, to get back on track, what do we do about Target Forty-two?"
"So long as Earth can't find us, or any of our other worlds, we're in decent shape. " Urfa pulled out his pocket comp and turned it on. "They can only attack us on Target Forty-two. We know they’re looking for our agents there, but so far their spies have been obvious. But we know where their forces are, on Forty-two, if we must start a war."
"The War Party still controls the Council. I'm afraid we can only procrastinate."
Urfa and Qayg nodded their agreement.
Orde rubbed his forehead. "I need to fetch Director Agni up here to report to me. Now that I’m in office, it’s time for him to stop treating me like a mushroom. I'm being stonewalled, and I'm wondering what it is they aren't telling me. Do you want to tackle him, Urfa?"
"I’d better. Otherwise he’ll keep running Exterior Relations as if it’s his private turf." Urfa flicked his comp with a thumbnail. "I need an up-to-date report. Even The One had to drag the report on our very abortive invasion of Target Forty-two out of him piecemeal. And I know damn good and well there’s more to it than has been released to the public. And we haven’t been informed."
Orde nodded. "I need to know, at a minimum, how many Earth troops are stationed on Forty-two, and how good our intel is. The War Party has the Council ready to try invading again. Anything you can get out of Agni to slow them down is good."
Urfa nodded. "Mind you, I may have to shoot him. Agni has this reputation for close-mouthed stubbornness second to none. For starters, I want a complete report on those new gates the Earthers are supposed to be experimenting with. Why are they doing the experimenting on a world where they have very little control? Why are these gates even there?"
"Because of the risk of spontaneous reconnection? Or is it not truly spontaneous, but happens with regular usage?" The president shrugged. "Shake that out of Exterior, if you can. And their research department. Those gates are a real game changer. If we lose the tech race, we'll lose the war—and we all know that a war will happen. They're aggressive, and actively exploring." He huffed out a tired breath. "Now, how big a problem is Interior going to be? I thought retiring the Director and promoting Orku would gather a bit of loyalty, or at least neutrality. The War Party turning around and electing him as the party chairman wasn’t what I’d anticipated."
Qayg sighed. "I hoped they’d repudiate him, turn it into a fight. I thought we’d poach a few more of the upper officers."
Orde shook his head. "If I’d thought I could win, I'd have recruited enough people t
o have someone to replace both of the Directors and most of the subdirectors. Well, can't change the past. I don’t know if the War Party is going to try anything dirty, or stick to politics. The Isolationists . . . politics, except for the Fire and Sword society. That’s where we’ll find problems. Make sure that Interior is on that." He glanced at his list, it was too crossed out and scribbled on to call an agenda. "Have there been any problems with my daughter and her showing?"
"No. That’s going smoothly for now." Urfa glanced over at Qayg. "I’ve put that Princess Xiat you mentioned in charge of her security."
Chapter Five
Paris, European Region
1 Safar 1396 yp
"So, the disruptions appear to be instigated by the militant branch of the Isolationists, the Fire and Sword Society who want to kill all the Natives whenever we find them. There's an outside chance that they are working with, or financed by, one of the less rational branches of the War Party, or at any rate, people who are officially members of the War Party." Izzo shook his head. "Rather doubtful, in my opinion. We really need to get someone into Fire and Sword."
Efge, pronounced E. Eff. Gee., was the subdirector of the Central Region, two levels up from Izzo. He frowned. "They caught both of our prior attempts. I don't know that we can hope for better results the third time. What we should do is suborn someone already in."
Director Orku nodded his acceptance. "You might give some thought to the colleges, they seem to be recruiting vulnerable youth. And if you get any indication of a specific branch of the War Party acting up, let me know. I'll get it squashed."
And as chairman of the War Party, he undoubtedly would. Anything that would tip public sympathy toward the Modernists could be disastrous for the plans of those who wanted to take lost ground back from Earth, and then some. Izzo counted himself among them.
Several other analysts, field agents, investigators and researchers made their reports.
The Breaking Trends people had an interesting one. New forgeries. "The same lame old data—repeated backgrounds that we can search for and so forth—but the blanks are perfect. Since they aren't erasing and rewriting, they're harder to detect. If they get into the hands of someone with better programming skills, and a bigger database of stolen personal information, we'll be in trouble." Glue, Ovgu officially, nodded toward the Criminal Investigations Regional Inspector. "So I’m afraid it’s in your court now."
The man nodded. "The local police have raided a few known reprogrammer shops, but we haven't found any blanks."
Izzo frowned. "The next time you identify a forged ID, don't arrest the carrier. We need to trace the ID blanks back to the manufacturers. Assuming they aren't stolen government blanks. If they're that good, inventory control and security may be the problem."
Uzga frowned at him but nodded his agreement to the Regional Inspector. "You've a lot of law enforcement experience, Izzo. The blanks are showing up north of here, and so are some of the college Fire and Sword cliques. Keep a finger in the pie of the forgery case and see if it ties in with anything else. But command-wise, it's the Criminal Investigation Department's baby."
Izzo nodded. ID cards could only be made with "magifacturing." Without mental micro telekinetics, forgeries were impossible, and without specific training, poor enough quality to be easily detected. So most forgeries used stolen ID cards, erased and written over. But they were made so that portions, the basic identification of the individual, were nearly impossible to completely and cleanly erase. So even with high quality programing, they could be detected.
Perfect blanks represented a new challenge for law enforcement.
Time to send out some of the field agents.
***
"We’ve got two problems, the Fire and Sword Society, which is recruiting around college campuses, trying to pick up kids at their most ‘Nobody loves me’ stage. Then we’ve also got a forgery case, new ID blanks that have just recently started showing up, most of them north of here. If you trip over any of that, send duplicate reports to Criminal Investigations, I’ll get you a contact name. In the mean time, check these four campuses for Fire and Sword activity, pick the one that looks most rabidly . . ." Izzo paused as his comp dinged. He popped open the message and grinned. "On the other hand, we’ve got a student at Le Havre City College whose ID just raised a flag. Let’s start there. You can arrange to meet this ‘Este Randle’ and track his contacts."
Ydro had made good on his threat to follow Izzo to Paris. And become just one more statistician in the directorate. He had brightened considerably when Izzo turned up, wanting some field work done. Bored or ostracized?
The other young man was so bland he was nearly invisible. Ideal spy type. Inre Neartuone.
Inre looked absent minded. "Le Havre caters to aspiring Servaones and Clostuones. A few Halfers. Upcomers like us, but snobby. Not the sort of people who would usually need false ID. Do they have a Fire and Sword Society?"
Izzo pulled up reports. "Yes. Of course they’re recruiting the Servaones and Clostuones. No Halfers need apply." He started digging into the college’s registration system.
Inre nodded. "Stirring up resentment against them ‘taking your places in the high demand classes’ and nonsense like that. Do we have a budget? That’s a long commute."
"Yep. Grab a cheap apartment. Enroll in a few classes. Here’s Randle’s schedule of classes, and I’ve slid the pair of you into their student body. One! I feel all powerful having this level of access. Good thing I know the Directorate audits regularly. It'll keep me in line."
The youngsters grinned, and looking over his shoulder, signed up for a class apiece.
"We’ll sign up for more, when we check out his contacts and their classes." Ydro placed his thumb on the scanner and made way for Inre to do likewise. "Ah, who’d have thought field work would take me back to school?"
Inre looked innocent. "You went to school?"
Three days later, they sent a report. The student was followed back to his home, a crash pad above a small shop. "Three young women, also students, are living there, and working in ‘The Knickknack Shop’ selling glass and ceramic things. Between the four students, they’re taking just about every subject, all at entry level. Prior to their arrival approximately three months ago, they were unknown in the neighborhood. There was a second young man, but he has disappeared, something about a job in Britain.
"Three older men hang around a lot, drunken derelicts by their looks, but you never see them doing much drinking. They help in the shop and sometimes eat and sleep there. They are well known in the neighborhood, their sobriety a surprise to everyone. They are interesting sources of information, but perhaps not reliable. They think the younger group are all space aliens, and claim to be keeping an eye on them ‘for the good of the One.’
"The drunks are Onni Servaone, Icku Servaone, and Anki Neartuone. The youngsters are all using Halfer style names, but they are all Oners; they have the feel."
There was no indication of either criminal or Fire and Sword connections, but Izzo told them to keep watching for a few more weeks.
***
Urfa listened for a long moment before he allowed his presence to be detected.
"I'm just saying that there's a difference between being the same and having equal rights." Idlo was one of the young men in the Presidential directorate he had great hopes for. If the youngster would just get his ego and prejudices under control. His off duty civvie's were custom work, conservative to such a degree that ‘fashion’ didn’t apply. They'd be just as high class a decade from now.
Ahba was the opposite. Ultra fashionable. In six months he probably wouldn't be caught dead in the iridescent black pants and shimmery white shirt and purple vest. "Yeah? Well, tell it to the masses. They think equal rights means they can do the work of a Withione. I'm all for equal rights, but those people need to figure out what that means."
Urfa nodded. Stereotypical Hot Shot, both parents Clostuones. Probably ever since he'd tested as
a Withione, he'd been climbing the social ladder. He clearly didn't like the thought of the masses climbing up behind him.
Idlo had been born on top, to top parents, and stayed there effortlessly. Qayg will say that he's the Archetype of the High Oner.
On paper, they'd sounded like good choices for an in-group of agents whom he could send out at need. Give high level access to. Trust . . . He was going to have to trust blindly for a while. And no doubt he'd have to cut some of his first group, send them back to more ordinary security duties.
Urfa softened his shields as he stepped forward. The four people all straightened.
"Well, it’s been a quiet week all around. Interior is investigating an ID forgery case, Exterior reports still no luck relocating Granite Peak, and Captain Isro reports nothing much stirring politically. Have any of you noticed anything I should know about?"
Xiat bit her lip. "Paer’s security at shows is all right, but a couple of extra people in plain clothes to keep an eye on the spectators would be good. Lady Haov’s new jumper, appropriately named War Party, is bringing in a lot of the High Society Oners to spectate, then party afterwards."
Rael snickered. "I can’t tell if the War Party wives are drooling over the stallion or the stud riding him."
Ahba curled a lip. "I know who you mean. A Halfer. The newsies keep interviewing him. He doesn’t talk politics, just horses. But he claims that everyone has a bit of magic and horses help bring it out. The teenage girls lap it up." He flicked a glance Rael’s direction.