by Pam Uphoff
Excerpt from Directorate School
Chapter One
1 Qadah, 1402yp
The University was not at all what Ebsa Clostuone had expected. He'd thought the University of the Empire's School of Directorate Studies in New York City would be so upscale and snooty. So elevated and erudite. The best of the One.
The hazing came as a surprise.
Oh, he'd known perfectly well that as a "mere" Clostuone he'd probably get some mental testing . . .
"Did you hear me, Fresher?" The upper classman was four inches taller the he was. Muscular shoulders and chest obvious through the thin tight fabric of his shirt.
"Actually I'm a Junior. Transfer student, you know?" Ebsa tried to make his voice sound patient, and perhaps a little amused. I probably just sound like a dork. And I don't need a confrontation with a dozen other students looking on.
"Here you're a Fresher, until you prove we can rely on you in the field." He looked beyond Ebsa. "And that goes double for a Colonial."
A snort from behind him. A young man stepped around Ebsa and dropped his suitcase in front of the heckler and shrugged a backpack off his shoulder. "You must be the House Boy. I am assigned to room 312. Bring the luggage." He stepped past the bully and headed for the stairs.
Ebsa gawped.
The Hazer grabbed for the Colonial, who sidestepped neatly. The Hazer pounced and flew over the Colonial's hip. Unfortunately, he knew how to fall and rolled right back up to his feet, fists clenched.
Ebsa stepped smartly back, and checked the area. Something like ten men standing up and heading their way. The closest one rushed at them. Ebsa shrugged his own backpack off and swung it under the nearest man's feet. It was a magnificent pratfall: headfirst into the Hazer. Ebsa ducked a swing from the next student rushing into the fray, blocked the follow up. Got shoved from the rear . . . Two guys grabbed his arms, he kicked the man in front of him first. Gently—this wasn't a life or death fight and he really didn't want to kill someone his first day here . . . The one with his left arm staggered as someone bounced off him. Ebsa heaved all three of them to the right and rammed the right arm man into the wall. Swung the still unsteady left fellow around to stumble into a chair and twisted his arm loose. A punch to the right and he was free.
The colonial kid was surrounded. Ebsa trotted over and kicked the back of one man's knee, grabbed his shoulder and jerked back and down to aid his encounter with the floor. Then he was face down on the floor with about three tons of upper classmen trying to suffocate him . . .
He barely heard the new voice. Something about "Hell" and then "RIGHT NOW!!!!" came through loud and clear. Bodies rolled off of him and he heaved in a couple of deep breaths before he stood up to face the music.
"I see we have once again failed to grasp the basics." The man surveying them was elderly but upright. Medium height, a bit on the thin side, both hands draped casually on a cane. "Edge, when capable of standing, please recite rule thirteen. These youngsters need to learn these things, so they will not add to my burden of, well, you and your cronies."
The Heckler crawled to his feet. "Thirteen. Your class mates are on your side. In theory, in the field, they will have your back. In practice, it is therefore a good idea to not inculcate within them a desire to stab you in the back."
Yeah, you can recite it, but you don't remember it when it might do you some good. Do you Edgie?
Ebsa tried to not sway on his feet. His quick head count had five of the "enemy" standing and five who hadn't made it up yet. The colonial was standing straight and alert. His nice dress shirt had lost a couple of buttons. and hung open at the neck, no other sign of damage.
Ebsa caught his eye. "Not bad, two against ten." He kept his voice down but the old man's eyes narrowed.
"Oh, yes? And do you think this will make things easier for you?"
Ebsa shrugged. "Doubt it. More likely they'll come back with at least twenty, next time. Or just ambush us one at a time." He eyed the older students. Not more than a year older than me, though.
The old man glowered. "What is your name?"
"Ebsa Clostuone Castellanos Montevideo."
That got a mutter from the bullies. "Clostuone! Can't believe they let the lower classes attend here."
The old man ignored them and eyed the other newcomer.
"Ra'd Withione Nicholas Makkah."
Snorts from the upper classmen. "Told you he was a Colonial. A Halfer mother trekking to Makkah to give birth doesn't make you a member of the Makkah Clan."
The old man shot the Hazer a quelling look, then looked back at Ra'd. "Here on the One World you should use your Oner designation when asked your name. You may use your nickname, but it is not your legal identity."
Ra'd raised a single eyebrow. He had black hair, but his skin was paler than most Oners. "Perhaps, then, you could inform me how one is supposed to pronounce W, Q, L, W?"
The old man hesitated. "Most likely something like Wuck Lew or perhaps 'Ra'd' if one ignores any sane rules of pronunciation." His eyes swung around to Ebsa. "And I suppose you have a nickname as well?"
Ebsa shrugged. "I'm trying to leave it behind. Ebsa will be fine."
Directorate School will be published in August 2016
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-seventh 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.
"Rael" is the twenty-seventh title in the Wine of the Gods universe, and the fifth I've published this year. This brings my total to seventeen novels, five novellas, six collections of novellas and short stories, and published separately, eight other short stories.
I'm planning to bring out at least four more titles this year. I've got several new books in the Wine of the Gods Universe under way. And then a third "Zoey Ivers" book in the Doors series. And several things inching along towards completion, so I may manage to squeak in a tenth 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 . . .
Email [email protected] to join the mailing list for notifications of new releases
Other Books 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
Warriors of the One
Dancer
Earth gate
Mages at Large
Art Theft
Triplets
Sea Wolves
Bad Karma
Dark Side of the Moon
Cascades
Olympian
Embassy
The Lawyers of Mars
Fancy Free
Writing as Zoey Ivers
YA Cyberpunk Adventures:
The Barton Street Gym
Chicago
Atlantis (2016)
Fantasy:
Demi God
s Book 27)