Guardsman

by Pam Uphoff

  “Lucky, my ass.” Foo was shaking his head. “What are the numbers looking like?”

  Isakson snorted. “He’s lucky when the need is greatest. And this isn’t it. Twentieth place. He’s always been among the best.”

  Eppa shook his head. “Fooled by a reputation. Looks like Ra’d—and the next nineteen—keep their place.”

  Davos laughed. “Guess who trained Ra’d. He’ll move up with regular practice. And sometimes his luck kicks in and he beats everyone.”

  Three men he didn’t know split the substantial pot.

  ***

  And Dave got teamed up with Foo to stand his first watch. Or rather, walk it.

  Government House was freaking huge. He got lost three times despite the map, as they roamed randomly through the main halls, cross halls, stairs both public, staff-only, and concealed. And he . . . experimented, yes experimented. With the antigravity tubes.

  “Expensive as all hell.” Foo shrugged. “So of course they have to have two of them, just to flaunt their power. And occasionally discommode a visitor. Didn’t work with Ambassador Never. She just started speculating on how to do the same effect magically. ‘If I was feeling particularly silly’ she said.”

  “Heh. I refuse to believe she could do antigravity with magic.” Dave stepped in and jumped upward, just a gentle push, grabbed the bar at the third floor and swung out, almost gracefully, this time.

  But with three days to explore, he was fairly confident of not getting lost by the time Rael returned from whatever she’d been up to.

  She just grinned. “Nothing very exciting, this time. I’ve been talking to all the various governments involved—Whirlpool One, Whirlpool Earth, Tyrant’s World, and Refugee World—and figuring out where they fit together. And getting a direct gate from Tyrant’s to Refugee, so all the various natives who’d been stranded on various worlds can get together and find friends and families.”

  “They don’t want to go home?”

  “Well, it’s a bit difficult. When the Earth split, the natives who were on Earth also split. So one version was isolated on the Whirlpool Earth, and the other version didn’t notice anything had happened. So . . . now, going home involves duplicates of themselves, a lot with different spouses and children and those children and grandchildren grew up on technologically advanced Earth and won’t fit in well, even without the weirdness.”

  Lucky Dave thought about Davos and Jadida. “Yeah, but is that Refugee World high tech?”

  “Sort of. The prefab housing has electricity and running water, they’ve found oil and got a little refinery going, so motor vehicles and tractors and such all work. And now with communications through Embassy they can contact distant relatives. Mind you, they aren’t very experienced farmers, but, well, it’s working.”

  She giggled. “And having the Tyrant’s World farmers on tap is helping. Some Fallen witches have taught them bug repellent spells, nitrogen fixing spells, and weather control. They’ve passed those methods on to some of the Purps on the Refugee World how to do it all, and so they don’t need to spend money on fertilizer and bug spray. Mind you, Izzo’s been sending help their way, and expediting private assistance, mostly from Lucky Thirteen.”

  “Huh. So . . . what about Whirlpool Earth and Whirlpool One?”

  “Eh. They both checked out the damage and wrote their buildings off, but they all wanted the contents. Furniture, electronics and so forth. Half of it just for spite. Nick put his foot down and told them they were leaving the plumbing and fixtures, but they could take the kitchen and laundry appliances.” Rael giggled. “Of course, the people there have been raiding the apartments for clothes, kitchen stuff, and furniture, so there still a lot of acrimony about theft vs claiming abandoned property. Disco’s setting up a small claims court and is paying out a lot of the claims.

  “Xen just stepped in personally and bought whole buildings—cheap, mind you, although he did offer to return them to their owners in their original places, and one of them actually took him up on it—so it’s all small stuff, now.” She was grinning.

  “So what was funny about it?”

  “Well, Whirlpool Earth sort of freaked about him dropping off a building, forty stories high plus everything way down into the ground and including all the water mains, sewers, storm drains and all into the middle of their equivalent of Gate City.” She giggled. “Of course that was right in the middle of the switched around slice of a barren world, nothing to connect anything to. And Xen just looks innocent and says ‘Yesterday you were yelling at me to bring it all back. So, please, make up your mind.’ And they just cursed him out and demanded that he return Main Accounting. Which he didn’t.”

  “Is that one he’d bought?”

  “Yep. The Gate Authority just leased it. So they went in and stripped it. Pissed off a whole lot of accountants, but since That Earth’s Courts ruled that they had to pay all their employees back pay, including comp pay for the weekends, for the time they’d spent in their work location, the people who stayed just went on a spending spree and remodeled a bunch.”

  “Huh.” Dave eyed her. “And the other Rangpur survivors?”

  “Happy pioneers. That Nicholas had a little discussion with the eight priests who came to . . . let’s say entice, shall we? Yes, entice him to return to Whirlpool One.”

  “Eight? As in a Compass?” Lucky Dave heard the growl in his voice.

  “Yes.” A smug grin. “I stunned one of them. Then Nicholas stepped in and held the compass and . . . studied them. They got judged and knew damn well just how badly they’d failed compared to any standard of decent human behavior, and responsible handling of power.”

  “And then?” Dave prompted.

  “He broke the compass and sent them home. Walked away and barfed. Told me if I ever found out who ‘kidnapped’ them he owed them a lot.”

  Dave bit his lip. “I did wonder about Crazy Redhead Number Two.”

  “Except that I know where Ryol was the entire time . . . and Arno, my son, well, he was with us for at least half the possible time. And before that . . . well, he was on Embassy being taught about gates by Q . . . I really don’t think he had time enough to do what must have been done, and I don’t think he can steer gates, even if he can make them.”

  “Hmm, sounds like I ought to talk to Crazy Redhead Number Three.”

  She shook her head. “Brown hair. Scary Smart. Quiet. Nice. Hmm . . . I really don’t think he could have pulled that off . . . yet.”

  “Yep. Stealth redhead. I met him at the New Year’s party. You’ve got to watch the quiet ones.” And shut up, because, damn, if he actually pulled that off at sixteen . . . Let’s just call him a Warrior Trainee, and get to know him better.

  She grinned. “Anyhow, now that Ox is officially Subdirector of Investigations, Raod can stop running frantically between Gate City, Montevideo, and Paris.”

  “And you’ll see your kids more often?”

  “Oh, poor kids! They were stuck in boarding school hell for four months. I’d been grabbing them for weekends and holidays regularly. Well, Raod and Ox made it here about every other weekend. But the kids passed their control tests at the start of the year, so they’ve been living at the house for three months now.”

  “Control tests?”

  “They’ve demonstrated control of their magic. Under law, children with magical potential have to live in one of the clan enclaves from the time they first show signs of blooming—showing a grasp of power—until they can show that they can control it and are not at risk of accidentally hurting anyone. Most kids stay through the end of high school, but the law is until they pass the control tests.”

  “Okay. Next Question. Clan Enclaves? Weren’t there . . . three thousand clans?”

  “Yep, now, three thousand, two hundred and seventy-four. Spread all over, and they all have an enclave, small town size, that is exclusively for Oners. Ostensibly for the safety of outsiders as teenagers feel the power, at the same time they’re suffering
through puberty.”

  “Huh. And ‘ostensibly’ probably means more snobbery, right?”

  “Right. The central region here has eight enclaves. Paris has almost engulfed four of them as it’s built out. Versalle is in one. My house isn’t. Hence the boarding school in the Mireau Enclave.”

  Dave sighed. “At some point I will no doubt start having fewer questions with every conversation we have. Now however, I’m off duty, so I’m going to brief Nicholas on this interesting meeting on Tyrant’s World.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  A wonderful day at school

  1 Rajab 1414

  “At least you don’t look like a nasty mutant.”

  Arno glanced up at the taunting female voice. Nywr, of course. Head of the Mean Girls clique. “Hi, Neener, have an extra-large helping of bile for breakfast?”

  He brushed past her. Fast enough to foil her attempt to block him, not fast enough to avoid contact.

  “You touched me, you pervert!”

  “So go cry to the principal again.” Arno shrugged indifferently. “I don’t care.”

  And I am so glad I decided to do the hormone block as soon as my voice settled! Gah, imagine being attracted to that!

  In Algebra he sat, as usual, front and center, where the bullies had few opportunities to not get caught poking or less friendly minor assaults. He was getting quite good at holding a soft physical shield for hours at a time.

  The teacher had stopped calling on him. Arno never got anything wrong for Mr. Igsu to correct in public. Much to Mr. Igsu’s irritation.

  The only good thing about this school is NOT boarding here anymore! Last semester was . . . difficult. If we hadn’t been able to escape to Aunt Rael’s house for weekends and holidays, I think I’d have run away and turned into a teenage truant.

  Still not totally a bad idea.

  He escaped quickly, when the bell rang, and hustled for World History. He started to detour to avoid a crowd around some . . . Oh. Great. Ryol, at full volume.

  “. . . try that again and I’ll do more than just punch you!”

  Arno sighed. I thought Jay was exaggerating, when he said school was hell. But apparently he was understating the situation. And Ryol, being both pretty and very noticeable, is attracting all the wrong guys and alienating all the other pretty, intelligent girls. Ha! And still claiming that she’ll have friends any day now.

  Arno elbowed his way through the crowd.

  “Listen, you little halfbreed native bastard, I’m doing you a big favor. My dad’s a subminister and rich, you could do a lot worse than being nice to me.”

  And of course it’s Handy Andy.

  Arno stepped into the very small open space around them. “C’mon Ryol, let’s get to class.”

  Andy loomed, fists clenched, but Arno spotted the second worst asshole—Wrme the Worm—reaching for Ryol’s butt.

  A quick chop to his fingers aborted that. Wormy growled and swung. Arno ducked and the clumsy roundhouse swished over his head and hit a girl in the crowd. She screamed, someone yelled that Arno had hit some girl, Andy punched, Arno sidestepped, tried some judo, that just sent Andy staggering into the crowd.

  Arno was shoved from the back and into Wormy’s next blow . . .

  Most of them hadn’t a clue how to really fight. Someone tried something magical, and a fire broke out . . .

  ***

  “Three days suspension’s kind of nice.” Arno ignored Mother’s glare. “I’ll polish off the two reports that are due in a week . . .”

  “Arno!” Mother clutched her hands in her previously immaculate hairdo. “It’s bad enough you getting into fights, but what about Ryol? I will not have my daughter sexually assaulted!”

  The front door closed on that comment and Aunt Rael popped into the dining room, where Arno was sitting. “So what happened?”

  Ryol galloped down the stairs and threw herself at Aunt Rael. The tears on her cheeks were rage induced, and her explanation quite clear. Grabbed and kissed, she’d punched the idiot and yelled at him and everything escalated.

  “And it wasn’t either of us that started the fire!” She wound down with an angry huff. “I don’t want to go back there.”

  Rael drummed fingernails on the table, then pulled out her comp. “This is the remote school that Paer went to. Perhaps . . . Oh, stop scowling Raod, they’re both responsible kids. It might not be the sort of school experience you wanted for them, but they’re good academically, and the kids can pick up some online friends and get together occasionally. Maybe even frequently.”

  Mother huffed. “Well . . . well. They’re more than halfway through their second semester.”

  Arno eyed her waffling, and brought out the heavy artillery. “It keeps escalating. And they always blame us. We can’t have Dad getting the stink-eye at work because his kids are accused of burning down a school.”

  ***

  “On grid school?” Izzo kicked back in the chair across the desk from his old friend. “Good idea, under the circumstances.”

  “I always knew the potential for this sort of prejudice was possible.” Ox flipped through the school’s grid site. “Somehow I underestimated how vicious their fellow students could be. Ajki says they switched schools twice to get Jay somewhere that came down hard on bullying, even just verbal. This Grid School’s curriculum’s solid.”

  Izzo nodded.

  Yeah, Jay’s had it all his life. Poor kid, paying for his mother’s actions, grabbing ‘Endi Dewulfe’ in full public sight and hauling him off to a bedroom.

  The first of a rather mind boggling eighteen highly placed wives Endi, AKA Xen, got pregnant, impacting their husbands’ status. And Rael still fell for him. Amazing.

  Their comms dinged in unison.

  Izzo didn’t comment on Ox sitting in on this meeting with Ajki.

  I think Ajki’s grooming his successor. I wonder who Ajki’s backing for President—not that anyone’s going to even hint nine months ahead of declaration day. But if he doesn’t run himself, he’d be a damn good Presidential Director. For a War Party President.

  Internal Relations Director Ajki Withione Black Point was Xiat’s half-uncle. Ox’s half-uncle, Subdirector of Exploration Ajha’s uncle . . . No wonder they talk about Black Point Over Achievers. Come to that, their mutual grandfather ran for president twice.

  A gaggle of youngsters was leaving the main conference room. Ajki sauntered out after them, and gestured them into his office. “Sorry that ran late. The young analysts are so . . . verbose sometimes. The only good thing about the riots is that I can legitimately send the minions to keep an eye on the One Firsters.”

  Izzo sighed. “I was hoping they’d fade away.”

  “Yeah, that’s high on my wish list as well. So, what are the Evac Worlds up to now? And how does it impact Interior?”

  “Hopefully minimally.” Izzo caught Ox’s gaze. “The permanent gates are fast turning what was clearly XR business into something close to ‘awkwardly distant’ Interior business.”

  Ox nodded. “Instead of a horribly expensive gate once a week, if that, they’re just across a somewhat restricted ‘bridge’ that doesn’t even charge a toll. Mostly.”

  “Right.” Izzo shrugged. “Anyway, Lucky Thirteen was always a culturally mixed world. Everyone from Granite Peak welcome. Mostly Oners, but some part Earther, part Native, part Purp, it’s just a wild mix. And they want to open gates directly to Limbo, Tyrant, and Refuge.”

  Ox nodded his understanding. “Which are also mixed up.”

  Ajki snorted. “Sometimes I’m amazed at how much we’ve changed. What do you think, Izzo?”

  “Limbo’s not a problem, as they’re part of the Empire. And Thirteen has a much larger population than either of the others, so I expect, in a general sense, the Oner culture to dominate. And gradually pull the others into our sphere of allies, which is pretty thin. What’s your first inclination, on Tyrant and Refuge?” Izzo eyed the other director. “I need the view from the Paris mo
vers and shakers, and the War Party.”

  “No way in Hell.” Ajki leaned back. “We’re all a bit sensitive to the idea of losing a colony. And maybe I’ll get over the visceral reaction once I think about it and look at the numbers. But if it comes up now, it’ll turn into an election hot potato.”

  Izzo nodded. “I was afraid of that. Well, I’ll go give the Flu Crew the bad news.”

  As they left, Ox glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to stick around for another hour, but unless you need to get back to Gate City, stay for dinner?”

  “Sure. I’ll liaise with the office and kill a little time. See you there.” Izzo waved casually and headed for the elevators.

  First, tell the guys to go ahead with the Thirteen-to-Limbo gate, and then tell the SGA gate traffic control that Thirteen will be moving farm equipment and livestock between there and Embassy. And from there, on to Tyrant and Refuge. A single straight gate would have been nice, but pass up citizen-to-citizen assistance and teaching?

  Oh hell no.

  Those two worlds are going to think of the “Old One World” as the place that some critical aid came from, and the government didn’t interfere or play for diplomatic points or concessions at all.

  Thirteen is full of farmers who’ve made do, first when Granite Peak was marooned, and now the last few years, in a wilderness. They knew just what sort of physical help was needed immediately, on both Refuge and Tyrant. They showed up with tractors to break ground, bulk seeds for planting, and seedlings for orchards.

  Now that the crisis is past and aid from elsewhere is getting thin, they will have lots of good solid useful advice on how to get on. Both with farming and building a civilization in the wilderness.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Driving