Guardsman

by Pam Uphoff

  The three witches of Pre-cog and Div? The ones that were in all the vids? Oh! Some newsie went and interviewed the real ones!

  ***

  After the lighthearted and utterly ridiculous interview, Q-and-A (Wqna) decided to end it on a personal note--because everyone knows personal precogs were the worst. "Ladies, thank you for your insight into Presidential aspirant Izzo. Do you have any precogs for me?" He grinned.

  The ladies sobered.

  "Oh, I'm so sorry, but you're going to break your leg."

  The purple haired harridan wiped a tear. "And your beautiful car!"

  The third one sighed. "At least you won't get fired for missing a few days’ work. And suing us will be a waste of time, we just see things, we don’t cause them, you silly boy!"

  Q-and-A laughed.

  "And that's Q-and-A's interview of the day from Taupo, New Zealand. He’ll be back in the studio live at nine . . ." The perky newsie glanced to the side with a frown, and took a notepad someone was sliding toward her, trying to stay out of the vid cam's field. A quick read and the young woman's brows rose. "This just in . . . Wqna, the star of Q-and-A will miss the late show, as he's been in a traffic accident and . . . the medics say his leg is broken?"

  ***

  Ryol snickered. “I’m sorry I missed most of the interview.”

  One of the older students looked over at her. “It was all about how wonderful Izzo is, and what a fine President he’ll be. And then they bragged about how their precog persuaded Endi Dewulfe to stay long enough to save the president. As if anyone believes those hideous hags!”

  “Umm . . .” Ryol shrugged, and headed for the stairs. I’m done for the day, and my poor nails! I think I’d better trim them even shorter, and maybe a less noticeable color . . .

  ***

  Introduction to Magic is going to be interesting. Arno made note of the Directorate students being segregated from the rest. I’m surprised at how many non-directorate students are taking the class. I know UENY has one of the most prestigious Magic Schools, but this many students? Maybe it’s a requirement for all university students?

  Roughly a hundred incoming students for us, and over a thousand for the University as a whole? He ran a quick estimate of the number of students in the room. Yeah. Looks like half the incoming freshmen take intro in the Fall semester, and I’ll bet the rest take it in the Spring.

  And Professor Jues is giving the Directorate area the stink eye.

  Riiiight. A bit of rivalry between the schools. The experts in magic, and that trade school that dares to teach magic!

  He sat back and started taking notes. I know it all, I just have to be careful what I say on any given test.

  And then three labs one after another. Physics 1 and Chem 2 in the hard sciences building. A quick lunch, then off to the biology building for Bio 2 lab.

  A little coordination and he met Ryol, Sunny and Pussy for dinner.

  “And tomorrow I’ve got five hours of lectures followed by Martial Arts B. I may be really sorry I signed up for three science classes.”

  Sunny eyed him. “Why did you?”

  “Because those are the classes he thinks are fun.” Ryol rolled her eyes.

  “They are!” Arno protested. “I just . . . may have overdone it.”

  Pussy snickered.

  They all headed for the dorms, planning a late meeting in the old library.

  Gior and Voyr joined them.

  Arno set his comp down on a table amongst the tall shelves of old fashioned paper books. “I still have to finish the Presidential candidates paper tonight. One! I hope Izzo wins!”

  Ryol nodded.

  Pussy wrinkled her nose. “But don’t you think we need a strong aggressive person running things? Look at those Helios!”

  “Orde let them raid us! They kidnapped people right off the One World!” Sunny frowned at them.

  Ryol looked indignant. “Let! Karachi didn’t call for help for over an hour. And then the President sent the Black Horse Guards straight in. They shut them down in half an hour. No one could have done better. And Izzo’s got lots of experience dealing with other worlds.”

  Voyr snorted. “Including Homestead. He’s a colonial . . . federalist.”

  “That bit’s all right.” Pussy scowled at her comp. “Australia would love to handle things at a more local level. Education, Environment, and Infrastructure.”

  Gior and Voyr, lifelong Parisians, looked at her in horror.

  ***

  First thing in the morning, History of the Multiverse.

  Arno sighed. Yet another class where my main problem is going to be watching what I say and write that conflicts with, or hasn’t been taught here.

  He took notes, lists of books and extra reading, and headed for the hard sciences building.

  For the interesting stuff.

  Ryol was in his Calculus class, sitting with some girls, so he sat well apart. And no one else I recognize. Well, Ryol is good at math. I just hadn’t realized she’d caught up with me.

  Then the three science classes, a two hour break to fit lunch into, and off to the big dojo, all dressed out in his new gi. With the beginner’s white belt.

  “Hey, start the party! Milo’s here!”

  Arno looked around. An older student, either a well grown Sophomore or a Junior. Tall, Blond, looked strong, orange belt.

  Sunny rolled his eyes. “If you’re so hot, why are you here instead of advanced?”

  Milo spread his hands. “They said I wasn’t ‘aggressive enough.’ Can you imagine that?” He peered around. “And no women to impress with my mild and unassuming nature.”

  Idiot. One, you’re not mild and unassuming, and two, women aren’t impressed by it. Take it from the expert in mild and unassuming.

  But Arno turned his attention to the young man walking out in a black gi, black belt.

  “I am Sensei Umbu. Today I’m going to watch you, and see what you know. I’ll sort you out a bit more later. Today, let’s have all of you with less than two years training in the first three rows. Incoming older students and those here for remedial techniques, in the back row, please. The rest of you in the middle.”

  The mats had well-spaced-out dots, so Arno walked up to the front left one.

  The Sensei frowned. “A white belt?”

  “I didn’t have much official training. A couple of relatives worked with me and my siblings when they were in town . . . but that wasn’t actually very often.”

  “And you are?”

  “Arno Withione Montevideo.”

  “Ah, you won the class B sorting. And had flashes of Speed. Very good. In this class, we won’t be using Speed, you will control your temper.” He nodded and moved on to sort out the other students.

  The noisy Milo was Imlo Withione Madrid, sent to the back for remedial work. So much for the Orange belt.

  No one else he knew. Pity Jay and Or What decided to wait and transfer in as juniors.

  The Sensei led them through a few basic moves, then stitched them together for a brief kata. More moves, and add them. And more . . . Arno was all right through about five additions, then they reached things he had never done. He got some pointers, then on to the next moves. At least this time he wasn’t the only one needing extra coaching.

  One last run through the kata, then Arno followed the cues of the more experienced, and bowed to the sensei.

  Sensei Umbu returned their bow and dismissed them, pulling out a pad and making notes.

  Well, that wasn’t a disaster, but it’s definitely my weak point.

  But the next week, his heavy schedule kept him too busy to worry about it. He just enjoyed the straightforward physical challenge, with no homework or research to worry about, and even managed to not let his thoughts drift off into thinking about his other classes. Mostly.

  Regular study sessions in the old library, with what had quickly become their own in-group. Not that he and Sunny didn’t shift to a different area when the girls started goss
iping. And often as not, Pussy joined them. She was pretty cool, for a girl.

  Nothing like his twin or two half-sisters.

  And no one recognized us. No snide comments about Halfers or untrustworthy spawn of Xen Wolfson. Fantastic!

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Campaign

  14 Qadah 1415

  And then the Presidential Candidates started showing up for the Wednesday seminars.

  Izzo’s stump speech was nicely adjusted to match the concerns of young adults. “Not that you in the School have to worry immediately about work. But shifting responsibilities from the Imperial level downward will affect employment in the future, even in government. In an ideal world, the regions would need fewer people to run the departments as they move down. But there’s really not any hope of that. But the local offices should be more responsive to local issues, to local cultural concerns.

  “At the top level, an imperial government that regulates minimally, exercises fiscal restraint—and uncommon sense—to keep both inflation and deflation under control, will keep the economy growing. And a government that keeps the peace both here and abroad will free you here to explore the multiverse.”

  Followed by a poisonous stew of verbiage from Ycrw, pandering to the predominantly High Oner audience. “We turned a war among an alliance of medieval tribes and two Early Industrial nations scrambling through the ruins of a high tech world for weapons they could use, into a unified, modern electronic age World. We guided their research into the dimensions and created a cross-dimensional empire.

  “We Oners are the leaders. We always have been, we always will be. We are approaching a crucial point in history where we may have to fight to remain the leaders, to keep lesser people from tearing the Empire apart, to keep traitors from allowing outsiders to stifle us, to restrict us.

  “Are you with me in this fight?”

  Half the kids jumped up and yelled their allegiance.

  Ryol leaned over toward him. “Izzo’s speeches need a bit more fire. He’s being too logical and sensible.”

  Arno nodded. “Ycrw’s taken lessons from Insane. His speeches have improved. Pity about his ideas.”

  Milo leaned between them. “Afgu’s a much better choice than either. Good Grief, Izzo’s never run for office before.”

  ***

  And of course they were expected to keep an eye on the other candidates as well, and turn in occasional analyses of their actions or speeches.

  Nativist Ketzel topped his campaign with a speech on Homestead, calling the Industrialized !Zolt to return to their natural lifestyle, which he seemed to think must resemble his own clan’s semi-nomadic herding and hunting.

  Beautiful Flower showed no signs of wanting to hit any other candidates.

  And Former Councilman Ramos continued to insult his constituents, even as he fumbled apologies.

  “How did he ever win the primary?” Ryol grumbled.

  Gyor sniffed. “Look at the opposition. The Chinese are horribly prejudiced, they wouldn’t vote for a black man, and Burchett? A white guy from South Africa? He was seen as an oppressor—ancient history, but also Ramos harping on it all the time.”

  “That makes sense. But it also means that in the general election his support could be pretty weak. It sounds like this is not going to be the year the Multitude stands up to the One.” I hope! Arno eyed the pictures of the top contenders. Afgu, Ovli, Ycrw, Izzo, and Ramos. “You know, this really is weird. The Multitude are more than half of the population. With a four way split among the Oners, Ramos ought to be an easy win.”

  You’d think there’d be enough stubborn people to vote Multitude no matter how often they were insulted. Is it that people vote for the elite? Oner charisma? Fraud? In every election?

  Guess I’ve got a report subject . . . Historical voting patterns of the Multitude, and possible causes. Sheesh, the School has gotten into my brain!

  ***

  Ryol’s run times improved quickly. Not that she caught up with Arno, but she was in tenth place among the women. And dammit, barely edging into the top hundred, overall. I’d hate men, if they just weren’t so yummy.

  And like a jinx, Milo popped up next to her at lunch. “So, what’s a gorgeous redhead doing, eating all alone?”

  I’d deck him, if I wouldn’t get into trouble.

  “Wolfing down lunch so I can review before Biolab.”

  She eyed all the good looking women around. High Oners, every one of us. And ambitious, or we wouldn’t be here. I dunno why Milo’s fixated on me, I’ve got lots of competition for looks, here.

  “Ooo. I suppose I should as well.” He pursed his lips. “Nah. Too boring.”

  She sighed. “Milo, what are you doing in the Directorate School? I beat your run times, your shooting is mediocre, and you don’t work at the academics either.”

  “Weeellll . . . I’m mostly pissing off Daddy while not having to scrape for tuition money.”

  Ryol blinked. “Really? Most High Oners at least think about the Directorate School, since it’ll guarantee them a job in one of the directorates.”

  “Oh sure, but most High Oners aren’t the Prime Councilor’s son. Daddy is outraged.”

  Ryol started laughing. “Oh. My. One! Yeah, I’ll bet he is ticked. His darling boy, working on the President’s side of the government. What does your mother think?”

  “Oh, she thinks I’m stupid to turn down Daddy’s offer to pay my way through one of the big private unis. They’re divorced, of course, but Daddy’s mostly had daughters, so I used to be,” He fluffed his hair, “his golden boy. But all that tuition came with strings, so I turned him down.”

  “I see. And you’re here because The Directorate pays for nearly everything, so long as you work for them for five years, post-graduation.” Ryol started eating.

  Milo shrugged. “I expect Daddy will offer to repay them. But those strings . . . I’ll just work off my indenture—that’s what Daddy calls it—and hopefully fall into something interesting. Analysis would be good.”

  “Hmm. Yes, especially if you’ve kept your ears open, and absorbed a lot of politics.” Yikes, I’m conversing with him.

  “Eh, couldn’t get away from it. How about you?”

  “Oh, Dad’s a cop, solid through, even though he is climbing the rank ladder. So I never got much politics. Mother's a software engineer, so I got even less politics from her.” Ryol shoved in the last bite and grabbed her glass, finished it off as she rose.

  “Lucky! See you in the lab.” He called after her.

  He can’t possibly like me. I was just the prettiest accent piece he could pick up.

  And if he sounded a bit lonely, he was probably fishing for sympathy. Really.

  ***

  “I want him to leave me alone.” Ryol growled, stomping along as she walked toward the Dojo.

  “Poor Milo.” Arno started snickering. “Well, you could always tell him about our biodad.”

  “Even Milo is not that annoying.”

  “Okay. Here. Wear my hat.”

  She eyed it with disfavor, then reached and took it. “Sensei Egads says he’s going to send me up to section B next semester, and then as my Speed grows, I’ll probably be in Advanced next year. In fact he said the only reason I wasn’t in Advanced now was my lack of the minimum two years training. And being a woman. Gior and Voyr will probably be there too.”

  Arno nodded at her orange belt. “Yeah. I tested up pretty quick too. Eww! Another class with my nasty twin. I’ll have to save up my sibling rivalry and take it out in sparring next year.”

  She shook her fist at him, then he split off for Bio2 lab and Ryol trotted off toward the Dojo.

  ***

  “I can’t believe Ryol’s wearing your ass-terick hat.”

  Arno looked around at Milo. “The asterisk is the letter for the frontal ‘tsk’ in Tektalk. And it’s Izzo’s nickname on Homestead. All of which I’m sure you know.”

  Milo glared. “Even Ryol knows you’re an idiot.
You should stay away from her. She doesn’t like you, and you’re not good enough for her, anyway.”

  Arno snorted, a snicker leaked out. “You think . . .” He broke down altogether, laughing.

  Milo shoved him. “Don’t laugh at me, you little shit, you stay away from her!”

  “Is that why you’re such an ass? You’re jealous?” Arno tried to suppress his giggles, and wiped tears of mirth from his face. “Milo . . . I really, really do not, absolutely not, lust after my annoying twin sister.”

  “Twin. Sister.” Milo stared blankly.

  “Yeah. You have nothing to worry about, other than Ryol’s opinion, where romance is concerned. And what you see in her, beats me.”

  Milo straightened, eyes snapping. “Don’t you disparage . . .”

  “Oh, you’ve got it bad, don’t you? Poor fool.”

  “I have spent two bloody months working my ass off to look better than you . . .”

  Arno stopped laughing long enough to talk. “All you have to figure out is how to . . . be a person she likes. Without straining yourself too hard. Because no one’s worth twisting your core self about.”

  Milo growled and stomped off.

  ***

  “Right, your midterms and reports are all graded. By-and-large you have shocked me with their excellence. But those few of you who got less than seventy on them, make an appointment to meet with me sometime next week.”

  Ryol looked over her shoulder. Yes, that overly loud sigh had been from Milo.

  “Failing to impress me again?” She sniffed and turned back. Checked her own score—103 with the five bonus points Professor Ivy had awarded her.

  A snicker from behind, and Milo leaned and held his comp in front of her.

  “A hundred and ten! How’d you do that!” She realized she sounded indignant, and half turned to look him in the eye. “Congratulations. A perfect score and double bonus. I’m actually impressed.”