by Pam Uphoff
External Relations
Pam Uphoff
Copyright © 2018 Pamela Uphoff
All Rights Reserved
ISBN
978-1-939746-41-2
This is a work of fiction.
All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional.
Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Excerpt from an upcoming release
About the Author
Other Titles by Pam Uphoff
Prologue
10 Jumada 1408 yp
Embassy World
Izzo Withione Alcairo was a spectator today. But rumors of his pending appointment were circulating already, and many eyes turned his way. No doubt some poor slobs were assigned to note his every twitch and nose scratch. He resisted an urge to find a toothpick to chew.
The assembly room was large enough, barely, for the audience today. Izzo eyed the empty arches in the walls at the height of a second floor. "They're going to have to expand, pretty soon."
His cousin shrugged. Idzo was the Subdirector of Embassy Affairs for the Directorate of External Relations. Izzo thought Spymaster would have sounded better, but the Subdirector of Intelligence might have objected. Omsi was also here today, as his demesnes covered all the non-Empire worlds, including this one.
The Ambassador to Embassy, a Ministerial Appointment, was a few meters away. No doubt he also had an Intelligence officer.
Overkill, for a world with a population of less than twenty thousand, and many of those daily commuters from elsewhere. Except, of course that most of those people are associated with the embassy of one or another of close to a hundred worlds, and therefore worth watching.
Down on the floor, representatives of Earth, the Empire of the One, and two groups from the world of Granite Peak presented four different views of a sticky situation. When the One World had discovered Granite Peak, it had been the first habitable world they'd discovered, across the dimensions. As such, and in view of their own over-population and periodic famines, they'd claimed ownership, settled it, farmed it. And pretty much ignored the thin population of stone age nomadic hunters and pastoralists.
Fifty-six years later, the Earth had discovered Granite Peak. Izzo had been twenty-one. Not even officially an adult by Oner standards. He remembered the series of shocks vividly. Another world with dimensional abilities. Hostile and aggressive. The unprepared Oners had been overrun, and only closing the gate in the face of the last fleeing settlers had kept the Earthers from attacking the home world through it.
Izzo was too diplomatic to ever say it out loud, but he’d been delighted when he realized that Oners had been involved with the destruction of the Earther’s gate facilities twenty-two years later, so all sides had been marooned.
And both sides had reconnected with Granite Peak less than twenty years after that. A few skirmishes, then both sides had settled down to an uneasy truce. For the last eleven years. Today the battle was with words, in the assembly room of Disco—the Department of Interdimensional Security and Cooperation—in front of all the other worlds.
The Earth was arguing for their ownership, the One was pointing out that they had a presence there that predated the Earth's, and the nomadic herders were arguing for not just political independence, but the removal of both warring polities' citizens from their world. Two groups of laborers, brought in from other worlds to work the mines for Earth, were arguing for redress or at least to not get turned back over to Earth as virtual slave labor. All the groups had interbred with the local Nomads and each other, so there were no clear cut lines.
Neither the Oner families with over a hundred years residence, nor Earther families with fifty years, wanted to leave. The mine workers and all the crossbreeds had no place to go.
". . . where even the youngest of the Earther children have grandparents who were born on Earth, we Oners are on our fourth generation of children who have never seen the One World, children fluent in the Native languages, children born on the plains and in the mountains of Granite Peak. It is our home. We have, despite the Earther's attempted genocide, ten times their population. We comprise almost forty percent of the population of the world, the Earthers, even counting their laborers and their halfbreeds, are less than five percent."
Disco had set a time table. Today the first arguments. Then diplomacy. If there was no agreement in one standard Earth Year, Disco would make one, and enforce it.
It was going to be an interesting year.
Chapter One
15 Jumada 1408
Cough Town, Granite Peak
"Hey, Nomad, you dropped something."
Flu ignored the snickers from the children. They'd all gone to school together, but somehow the pure Oners didn't seem to be getting jobs and getting down to work. They were unhappy with the situation they were trapped in . . . just like everyone else. She sniffed.
Which is no excuse for suddenly acting like jerks. Every. Single. Purebred. Idiot. If they can't start college this year, they ought to do something. And if we're going to be so independent, why don't we have at least a tech school here? How are they going to keep the mines open, the farms even marginally productive without any tech training?
She set the stack of reports down on the work table. Unnecessary labor. Maybe the boys were right.
Ahme looked over with a frown. "Well? Did you pick it up?"
"Not yet, Grandfather. I didn't want to drop the whole stack." She turned and walked out. The hallway floor was pristine. Of course. The boys, whatever they'd been doing here—checking out the pretty blonde who worked in the traffic department, probably—had left. She waited long enough for the old man to get distracted, then walked back in. Ahme, better known as "Ahem, Cough Cough" was one of the Heroes of Granite Peak. When the Earthers had cut off their retreat through the gate, he'd punched out Governor Ehbo, who was counseling the people to prepare to join the One, and marched them into the mountains.
He'd kept them alive and free, and raided and sabotaged the Earthers for almost twenty years. He'd married a Native crossbreed and raised his daughter to as close to Oner standards as their nomadic, hit-and-run lifestyle had allowed. Most of the unmarried men had taken Nomad wives during that chaotic period. The next generation of girls married halfbreed boys, or the mine slaves the Resistance had freed.
Until the Earthers’ gate was destroyed. Then he'd led them to victory, recapturing their towns and farms. The town was named Cough in his honor.
Flu's mother hadn’t married the man who’d gotten her pregnant—or even put a name to him—so Cough Cough was helping to raise Flu. And keeping the Colony records. All the notes and copies of ord
ers and lists of supplies, all on paper, all in boxes.
Fourteen years ago, a new gate from the One World had opened. Flu had been two years old, and oblivious to the huge change that was coming to her world.
After the return of the One, no one, no One would marry the halfbreed girls.
With the trial, the records had suddenly been evidence of their continual occupation of the world, and they'd had to be sorted and available.
Everyone had looked at the boxes in dismay, and no one had questioned the presence of a hundred thousand Oners on Granite Peak for the whole twenty-two year occupation by Earth. Once the gate was open, it had taken couple more years for the Empire to push the Earth Army back into the Earth colonized areas, a thousand kilometers to the east.
Then a dozen years of rebuilding what the Earth had tried to ruin or take over, all with limited movement to the One World. Not even much trade. The Earthers hadn't maintained the robotic farming machinery, they were ruined and rusting and not even paid for. Lawsuits were still circling over the defaulted loans. In the meantime, they were feeding themselves and self-sufficient in the basics. Affluent enough for luxuries like imported cloth. Affluent enough for the kids to stay in school most of the year, until they were seventeen or eighteen.
Flu blew out her breath and started scanning the first file. At least I've got a job for the short term. Then what? I get to be a second class citizen of the Empire, an Enemy Alien in Earth Territory or a worthless foreign woman the Nomads won't want either. Maybe I should listen closer to Governor Arry. Maybe there's a fourth way, and maybe I can make a place for myself in it.
Chapter Two
4 April 3523 ce
Serene, Granite Peak
Jack Hemmingway had everything he wanted out of life except lots of money. And he had a . . . job that just might lead to something big. If he played it right.
“You! Hemmingway!”
Oh god. The Rabid Bitch. Thank god she lost the election. Twice. Even Granite Peak doesn’t deserve a governor like her.
Joyce Hall disagreed. And the old lady was still holding a grudge about it. She stalked up. Lean, mean, and moving easily. Not as old as her gray hair made her look. Lady ought to have dyed her hair.
“There have been natives sighted around the outlying farms.”
Jack sighed. “It’s been three years since some over-exuberant young men stole any livestock. And right now, politically, this would be the worst possible time for an incident.”
“You can kiss Disco’s ass all you want, you’re just hired muscle. But we’ve got homes here.”
Jack sighed. “I’ll have the boys patrol out a bit wider.”
Granite Peak. We even call it by the Oner’s name now. On contracts it’s still Chelsea Company 15. On the original colony sales pitch it was Serene Plantation. Sounds like a generic suburb in some backwater old-American south. Fitting, really, the way we treat Natives.
Of course, here, we had to import people who had some sort of work ethic. No amount of money could get one of the horse nomads into a mine shaft.
And we still have “Serene City,” but the rest of the area is just “Earth Territory,” now.
Pity we didn’t just turn and walk away when we realized the Empire of the One had discovered this world and colonized it over fifty years before we found it.
And now? No way the government will just walk away from “our” world. Question is, how far will they go to keep it?
“See that you do!” The old lady’s eyes snapped.
Jack pulled out his comm. “Nate? Shift the patrols out further and run a few extra.”
On the other end of the line, his second in command—for all intents and purposes the man in charge here—sighed. “Hall again?”
“Yep.”
Sigh. “Right. Enjoy your escape, Boss. See you in a week.”
“Unless there are complications.” Just hiring some specialized help.
And I hope like hell there aren’t any complications here. Like the guys on patrol getting too pushy-friendly. But Ferris knows who the problem boys are.
Jack clicked off and nodded politely to the not-governor. “That’ll give any . . . light-fingered natives something to make them a bit more cautious.” A polite nod and he put his gyp back in gear. Resisted the urge to gun it and leave the old pest in a cloud of dust.
Sometimes I hate being the good guy. There are days when hoisting the skull and crossbones is so tempting. And this simple hire . . . could be an opportunity.
If I dare.
There were two dimensional gates on the low bare hill. The metal arch marked the gate to Earth, dark now in their night time.
Usually the first gate touches down within a thousand miles or so of the same place on the parallel earth. This must be one of the outliers, nearly halfway around the world from Nowhereistan.
The other dimensional gate, the stone arch, showed daylight. They were only an hour off from Disco Time. Embassy World. An Empty World where all the dimensionally able worlds could build an embassy and talk to the other worlds.
In theory.
Disco keeps inviting any inhabited world they encounter to come join the fun. Whether they have the ability to make gates or not. Disco is happy to make gates for them.
Earth and the Empire of the One could make their own gates. With huge, complex machinery, eating up electricity in terrifyingly—expensive—amounts to hold a gate open for a few minutes. These permanent gates . . . “A natural dimensional phenomenon that we can use for our own purposes” they said. “Like a sailboat uses the wind, instead of steam or diesel engines to get you where you want to go.”
Fine for them. Only Comet Fall, of all the worlds, seems to have the right kind of magic to make them. Good thing the Oners can’t.
The view through the gate was clear, so he drove through, coming out facing a street. He eased out into the street—as usual, pretty empty—and turned left, away from the big black cubic building of Disco Headquarters. Right would have been quicker, but he didn’t particularly want to drive in front of the Earth’s embassy.
Nosey bastards. Always keeping track of people. Especially their own citizens.
So a bit more than halfway around the plaza, he turned again, looking carefully before driving through another gate. This particular Earth—most people called it Bogota Nuke, because that was the splitting point—was locally famous for having recently been the target of a cross-dimensional criminal gang.
Jack was known here, came through two or three times a month to check the small private security firm he had opened here, mostly to escort freight through to other worlds. His staff here stayed up-to-date on import-export regulations and easily half their work was just making sure the right paperwork was with each shipment. And not infrequently providing drivers as well as security.
So he parked where they pointed, popped his trunk and hood, rolled down the windows and nodded to the customs people. Three out of four he knew by name.
“Hey Jack.” Officer Hicks bent and glanced at the empty ute. “Any more issues with the convoy last week?”
“Eh. Assholes being assholes. I thought they released all the trucks to return.”
“Yeah, they came back an hour ago. Grumpy as all hell.”
Jack nodded. “There are days when I hate my own government. And days when I wonder why anyone does any business with them.” Note to self, send more polite guards along!
“Heh. No kidding.” Hicks stepped back as his underlings closed the hood and trunk, and waved him on. “See ya next time.”
Then he drove through the growing sprawl around the gate—what’s it been, ten years that this world’s been in contact with the multiverse? He followed the signs; they’d gotten the new highway interchange open since the last time he’d been through, and headed south for the old city. His man, a local who was . . . an expert at expediting things . . . without troublesome paperwork, had arranged a meeting with the woman he was hoping to hire.
He foll
owed the directions he’d been given, parked where he’d been told to park, and walked from there. His clothes fit in, he subdued his dominant body language, and no one gave him a second glance. A cheap auto café. He got a cup of coffee and spotted his expediter.
He was sitting at a small table with a blonde woman. He stood up when he spotted Jack, said something to the woman, and walked away.
Jack slid into the chair and eyed the blonde woman. Young enough to call a girl.
A Comet Fall Witch, just released from prison, working a menial job on a foreign world.
Arrow Albdaut. The youngest of the witches jailed here, and so far, the only one released.
"You don't want to be here, you want to find your friends. Good. Because I want to find them too. Not to hurt them. To hire them. So I figured I should start with you. I'm what most people call a mercenary. I hire myself and my people out for various duties, generally involving protecting them from Bad Guys." He couldn't read her emotions, her eyes were opaque, her lips pressed thin.
"Now, you and your buddies are Bad Guys, but generally you just steal things—you aren't in the business of killing people. Some of your guys get carried away, now and then—the robbery at the Senator's manse was funnier than hell."
Her brows lowered.
He shifted. Damn it, what is she thinking? "But what I really want is a world all my own, with a Gate or three to go shopping, to pick up a job here or there. So I need a magical person. You've got two problems, from what I've read. This Chain thing." He leaned forward and touched it. She didn't flinch. "And some genetic changes. Where can you go to get these fixed?"
Still no reaction.
"I've been exploring through some of the backwards, behind times, Earths. Some of your former buddies like them for their raids. All connected to what they call the Maze, on Embassy. Lots of people explore them, some people do science on them.
“I found a back route to Comet Fall."