Guardsman

by Pam Uphoff

  Lucky Dave snickered. “Good Luck, you’re not the sort to blend in. Crazy Redhead.”

  ***

  Dave watched the three kids wandering off, then looked down at Qamar. “Want to bet Arno isn’t the one who rescued our alternate selves?”

  “Nope. I won’t say it’s a sure thing; he’s got the dimensional ability. But does he have the initiative and nerve to do what the Whirlpool Oner Priests say he did?”

  Dave grinned. “Just walk in and join their search? Hard to say. Some teenagers are completely oblivious to danger and do the damnedest things.”

  “Speaking from experience, Dave?” Qamar grinned. “I, of course, have always been a model of sensible behavior.”

  “Oh yes. Umaya’s told your father all about your sensible behavior. In between bragging about your academics.”

  “Hmph! And you hear everything. For that, you’re going to have to dance with me.”

  Dave checked that the commander was covered, then let Qamar lead him off to the dance floor.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Multiverse

  1 Muharram 1414

  Director Izzo had a large car—not quite a limo—and a driver. “One of the punishments for advancement. They start assuming you’re too important to know how to operate a vehicle.”

  The chauffeur grinned and held the door for them.

  “So . . . have these corridor things destroyed the airplane industry?” Lucky Dave eyed the shorter man. Right. This is the man who killed the head of the assassination plot in a sword fight. Talked Ra’d, Abbas, and Isakson out of Makkah when that Hive Mind dared attack Warriors and their families. Don’t underestimate him.

  “Not quite, but it’s definitely changed things. Likewise shipping. Shipping . . . by water has become nearly non-existent. Trucks can drive through a few corridors and be within a thousand kilometers of any destination on the World, in a few hours. And loads that can fit through a gate—can go anywhere in the known multiverse just about as quickly.”

  “Or an Army? Like the one Jiol spoke of. And . . . she said something about a Combat Gang and the Maze?”

  “Yes. You’re going to be picking up on details for years. When the Fallen—which is what we call the people from the world called Comet Fall, because of the comet that hit it a thousand years ago—invented the permanent gates, they didn’t know how to take them down. So when they found us—this was a couple of decades after we’d found them and two years after we’d tried to invade them—they built a maze of gates and corridors they could use to dissuade pursuit if their spies were discovered.

  “Pretty much unused until it was discovered by Fallen smugglers, who added on to it. And then a criminal gang, mostly composed of Fallen Witches, some of whom could open gates made a lot of gates to different Worlds they could raid. They called themselves the Hors de Combat.”

  Dave snorted.

  “Indeed. Led by a marooned Oner Princess who’d taken a sex change potion. Rior.” Izzo sighed. “Most of them have been arrested and are in prison. But the Maze keeps growing. Disco explores, students practice their gate making lessons, the smugglers are still out there . . . From the original thirty-five gates, it’s grown to well over five hundred, and the maps are always out of date.”

  Dave blinked. “So . . . they know of five hundred worlds?”

  “Oh, more than that. That’s just the Maze. All the contacted worlds have multiple worlds that they claimed, or Disco found and gave to them, permanent gates included. And some people just go out and just explore.

  “Our catalog is up to sixty thousand, and I’ll bet the Earth has even more.”

  “Okay. I’m officially boggled. I know in theory there are an infinite number of worlds, but when you start putting numbers to it . . . that’s boggling.”

  “Yes.” Izzo shrugged. “I just think ‘lots and lots’ and avoid spraining my brain.” He grinned. “I’ll show you the catalog, and try enticing you toward XR.”

  “I . . . have a duty to Nicholas. And . . . I’m a really good bodyguard. Period.”

  Izzo shrugged. “You did what was most needed at the time. Dave ibn Daiki ibn William? I think you have a lot of untapped potential. I’m perfectly willing to steal you from Urfa and get you into lessons with Xen Wolfson.”

  Dave eyed the traffic as it slowed . . . in front of a corridor. “So you’re recruiting? I’m surprised you’re not after Davos.”

  “Oh, I’ll get around to it. I just happened to encounter you first. And then there’s Nicholas. Unfortunately I haven’t come up with a real need for a prophet or a general, but I’m working on it.”

  “I see . . .” The car gave the faintest of lurches as it drove through the gate and onto a road that curved and merged with a four lane highway. No, eight lanes. Four each direction.

  Damn. Yet more ‘welcome to the future, Dave’ experiences.

  “So . . . these political parties, eight of them?”

  Izzo nodded. “The War Party, Isolationists, Strong Federalists, Multitude Supreme, One First, Nativists, Pacifists, and of course, the Modernists.”

  “Orde’s a Modernist, right? And you?”

  “Modernist.” Izzo sighed. “We’re such a small party, and Urfa’s the only well-known person who could run, and his reputation is odd . . . 1415 is going to be an interesting year, but not in a nice way.”

  “I see. About the time I adjust to the future, it will all change.”

  “Pretty much.”

  ***

  Dave watched the road signs, as the car changed lanes. “What’s the SGA? I’ve heard it mentioned.”

  “Secured Gate Area.” Izzo shrugged. “We’re moving the Colony Gates to a less secure area, to speed up commerce and commuting, but we’re still more than a little jumpy about invasion, after the Helios encounter.”

  He looked down as his comm gave a faint buzz and sighed. “One! The Ambassador from Whirlpool One is apparently accusing us of kidnapping your counterparts from their World.” He glanced at the chauffeur. “El Zee? We’ll go straight to Embassy.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dave snickered. “They ought to be glad they didn’t find us. Look what happened when my Nicholas went to Makkah.” He squirmed at snickers from Izzo and his driver. “Right. But don’t think that other me wouldn’t have done something . . . well, depending on how healthy I, he, was at the time.”

  “Lucky Dave . . . given the seriousness of your injuries, and Davos’s, I’m not sure either of you would have survived without both the joy juice and the personal attention of Xen Wolfson.” Izzo looked him straight in the eye. “And you certainly wouldn’t have been fit enough to protect Commander Nicholas at the start. They’d have taken him away from you.”

  Dave’s breath caught at the sudden memory. Creeping along with a badly broken, poorly set, and infected leg. Broken shoulder, healing poorly . . . “Right. If we’d been found by priests searching for a prophet, rather than a top government agent masquerading as a ditzy tourist . . .”

  Izzo snickered. “That woman terrifies me. Partly because of what she’s capable of, and partly because I don’t know who she actually takes orders from.” Sigh. “Not that she doesn’t question orders. But when the One told her to obey the Interim Committee to the letter . . . she did.”

  “Umm . . . Okay. Next question. What the Hell is Tyrant’s World?”

  Izzo started laughing. “One of the other nine worlds in that multidimensional whirlpool. Have you read . . . Good. The Ra’d from Whirlpool One wound up on a world with a belligerent Earth Army General and with a couple of companies of soldiers on one side, and the belligerent Oner Minister of War with a couple hundred ministry guards on the other. That Ra’d—who calls himself Nick—found it necessary to beat the crap out of both would-be tyrants, and be the tyrant himself for two months until he could arrange an election.

  “In the election they voted to make the title of Tyrant official, and elected Nick. Three months later Disco found them, and both the Eart
h soldiers and the Ministry guards departed.” Izzo snickered. “Nick’s doing quite a good job. Married a Presidential Directorate Princess, has a son, almost two years old. And now he has his Nicholas, his father, there with them.”

  “Huh. Right. That sounds . . . like something my other self can deal with.”

  Izzo grinned. “We’ll see if as many people try to recruit him as will shortly be besieging you. If any of those three don’t like pioneering, they may well move elsewhere.”

  The car decelerated smoothly, and pulled up to a heavy metal gate, the guard gave them a good hard look, nodded politely, and the gate rolled out of the way.

  “The Headquarters Building is outside the SGA so visitors—mostly politicians and newsies—don’t have to go through the checkpoint.”

  The car turned away from the high rise office buildings inside the SGA and drove down a long row of warehouses.

  Izzo glanced back toward the gate. “The security keeps unauthorized people out, but it’s mostly in place in case of an invasion through the gates.”

  “Which you’ve never had?”

  “It was close both when Earth took Granite Peak, and again when the Helios came calling. We never have figured out how they found us. They emplaced beacons in at least five places—college campuses—and raided for merge victims.” Izzo sighed. “We got back ninety percent of the students they kidnapped, and most of the soldiers who merged on the battlefield. Q made a spell net, to reinforce the original genes, the original personality. We threw it on a lot of soldiers who rotated through our surveillance camp, as a precaution. So they recovered fully, eventually.”

  “Psychologically?” Dave knew he sounded dubious.

  “Umm, it was definitely a life-changing event. A lot of divorces, and sometimes even their parents rejected them. Limbo started as a halfway point, a place the merged and the other prisoners could stay and recover before they came home. Three-fourths of them didn’t want to leave and Limbo’s now an official colony. Beautiful place, in case you were wondering. It was one of the Evacuation Worlds, so a lot of basic facilities were already in place.”

  “I don’t know if I’m glad I missed it, or sorry. War is at least something I understand.” Dave eyed the last warehouses, then scanned the open area . . . several hundred acres with roads leading to metal arches. “Well . . . I suppose with tens of thousands of worlds . . .”

  “Most of which had a single brief study and haven’t been visited since.” Izzo grinned. “There are a hundred gates here. Seventy of them go to the colonies, some of them are big enough to need paired gates for traffic both coming and going, to several different places on each colony. Twenty gates go to hub worlds, that branch out to other worlds with infrequent traffic or potentially hazardous conditions that need a buffer between us and them.”

  “Like aggressive natives?”

  “Umm, no. We don’t go to inhabited worlds anymore. When we find one, we mark it as such and leave it. Dinosaur Worlds, Pleistocene Megafauna worlds, on the other hand, we only connect through hub worlds, and even then we put the gates in containment structures. Those, by-the-way, are worlds we find with our powered gates. If the world looks promising, we pay Disco for a permanent gate. Two million rials, approximately the cost in electricity and personnel and such for a one minute powered gate.”

  “Huh. You’d think they’d charge more, wouldn’t you?”

  Izzo started laughing. “Oh One! It’s insane. Now that they’ve opened offices on other worlds, and hired locals to staff them, Disco has maybe two hundred people working for them. Thirty core people. And they . . . keep us all in line.” He nodded at the gate they were approaching. “There are only eight or nine worlds that can make gates.”

  “Thirty core people?” Lucky Dave grabbed the seat as a nasty twist dizzied him.

  “Two, if we’re going to be brutally frank. Xen Wolfson, and his sister Dr. Quail Quicksilver.”

  The car drove through a courtyard and turned out onto a road that circled a central plaza with a fountain . . . and an angry crowd.

  “One! There’s Ambassador Ashe. Let me out at the fight.”

  “Sir!” The chauffeur sounded more affronted than alarmed.

  “Relax, El Zee, I’ll be fine.” Izzo groaned. “And there’s Ra’d. I have a nasty suspicion the accusations have moved from the forum to the . . . less regulated arena.”

  Lucky Dave stepped out first and stayed between Izzo and the crowd while he got out. Walked slightly in front of his right shoulder, while El Zee walked to the left.

  Ra’d glanced around, looking amused. He nodded to Izzo. “I have explained that I have never set foot on their world, cannot open gates, nor see bubbles. With shields down enough that they know I am not lying. I have refused to speculate on who else might be responsible.”

  Izzo nodded to the Ambassador from the other One World. “I have just been told that your version of the Prophet Nicholas, and two of his fellow soldiers, are on Tyrant’s World. Have you asked if you can send someone across to be sure that they are there of their own free will?”

  The dignified gentleman he’d addressed nodded back, but three other people glared.

  The biggest one stepped up, glowing hard. A Priest. “We will go there and get our prophet.”

  Lucky Dave stepped into the space between Izzo and the big guy. “Commander Nicholas One is not property. Not my Nicholas, and not yours.”

  “And who are you?” Brighter glow. Looming.

  “I am Captain Dave ibn Daiki ibn William, head of Commander Nicholas One’s bodyguard detachment.” He met the priest’s gaze. “From Director Izzo’s One World. You can call me Lucky Dave, if you wish.”

  “Get out of the way.”

  “As soon as I see some sign that rational discussion is all that will happen.” Dave showed his teeth. “Has anyone told you what happened in our Makkah when Nicholas traveled there to talk to Emre?”

  Narrowed eyes.

  “The Hive Mind—the stuck grand compass—was broken. Not at all a bad idea, in my opinion.”

  The big man swung at him. A slow clumsy blow. Muscles, not Speed. Powerful . . . if Dave had let it connect. It sailed over his head as he squatted, a sweep of his own right arm added to the blow’s momentum and twisted the man around. Dave gave him a gentle shove and stepped forward to give himself more space.

  “Now, have you sent someone to speak to the Prophet on Tyrant’s World?” Dave tried to keep his voice neutral, and not reveal the happiness bubbling up inside him at the prospect of a good fight.

  Remember. Don’t kill anyone. No diplomatic incidents. Just put them in their places.

  He felt the power building in multiple people and raised those shields Rael had been making him strengthen.

  The big guy jumped him. Sidestep, grab him and spin him again, this time making sure he hit the other two—the ones gathering power.

  The Whirlpool Ambassador yipped as a misdirected push spell hit him and knocked him flat.

  Some odd pyrotechnic effect flashed upward. Dave kicked that priest first, turned to the pusher and sank a fist into his stomach. Turned and picked a nice thick bit of skull to chop down on as the big one tried to get up. Stepped over his unconscious body and turned back to face the Whirlpool Oners.

  The Whirlpool Ambassador scrambled to his feet and took a step back, gawping at his fallen entourage.

  Izzo and Ambassador Ashe exchanged glances and shrugs.

  El Zee, the chauffeur bodyguard, got his mouth closed. “Ra’d? I think he’s faster than you are.”

  Ra’d smirked. “Yes. There’s a reason he’s the bodyguard for the prophet who most often put himself in very dangerous situations. And if you’re wondering about his other qualifications . . . He trained me to shoot.” Ra’d stepped up closer to the Whirlpool Ambassador. “And if it’s of any interest to you? The General of the Armies is exceptionally good at battle magic. His nineteen-year-old half-trained son beat up two small armies, both on the same day. Think abou
t it, before you try to take Nicholas away from his family and new home.”

  The pyrotechnic guy climbed to his feet, hunched a bit, arms wrapped around his chest. “So perhaps we should eliminate the family. First.”

  The air temperature dropped a couple of degrees.

  Dave stalked over to the priest. “Tell me, do you remember the laws regarding threats to the families of the Prophets?”

  The priest’s eyes widened and he staggered back. “N, n, n, no! Don’t, don’t . . .”

  “Oh, I won’t. This time.” Dave stepped closer and the priest backed further. “I understand your stuck compass is down to fifty people. Make sure they realize that they’ve had their one and only warning. Do. Not. Threaten. The families. Of the Prophets.”

  Dave gave them a friendly smile. “The Prophets can take care of themselves, by and large. But I’d recommend you forget about Nicholas and start recruiting retirees with a wide range of experience and start helping people rather than lording it over them and placing assassins in all the high households.” He turned his back on them and walked back to Izzo. “Sorry, got a little carried away.”

  Izzo smirked. “Not a problem. I’m going to have to find an excuse to drop by Versalle some morning and watch you demolish Isakson.”

  Ra’d nodded. “I always did think all your magic went into Speed.”

  Lucky Dave shrugged. “Once, maybe. But now Rael’s got me doing a whole bunch of other things. The future is an interesting place.”

  “And Isakson’s going to be pissed at both of us.”

  Lucky Dave laughed. “For not killing him? You Warriors can kill anyone you want. I’m a bodyguard. Getting them to carry a warning back home to not even think about threatening the families makes my job easier. Revenge for killing a priest makes it harder.”

  The priests stirred uneasily.

  Ra’d looked them over. Shook his head. “Take heed. I understand that the other Isakson and my duplicate slaughtered a quarter of your priests. Don’t give Nick reason to visit Makkah again. Because he won’t be coming alone. As Dave said, build yourselves up with volunteers and do something useful. Be the leaders, not the threat. But then if you were the leader types, you wouldn’t be so desperate for a real leader, would you?”