External Relations

by Pam Uphoff

  "Jack. Be very nice to that girl, and try to keep her." The Captain smiled faintly. "And don't get yourself turned into a goat."

  Jack scratched his head. "I'll try." Must have picked up fleas or lice or something at Susto's. Or both, or something worse. And his head hurt. Hangover returning. He headed for his office, stopping only to collect a large glass of water.

  He sat down and eyed the stack of paper in front of him. Nate Ferris could sign damn near everything, but made it a practice to send him duplicates. He had a pretty big spending authority, but capital acquisitions had to be signed off by Jack. Good thing the accounting department for the whole company is in the Earth Office.

  Jack wiped sweat from his forehead and sipped water. Maybe he should track down Arrow and see if she knew a hangover spell. His stomach twitched. All right, maybe he'd had enough magic spells for now. He rather uneasily thought back to Susto's shelves. There'd been the baldness cure. Had he drunk the stuff labeled Broad Shoulders or the Enlarged . . . He scratched his head. Probably all the new hair growing . . . Red Hair. Susto'd set the Red Hair potion down on the table, but he hadn't drunk it, had he? Oh God. She couldn't read. She'd pulled some other bottles down off the shelves . . .

  "That bitch has poisoned me. Arrow took me there on purpose. And handed me that ugly bottle. Susto called it a Hex. That witch poisoned me!" He jumped at the knock on the door. "Come!" he eyed the woman who entered.

  "I'm Harriet Donne. Jackie's gone home for maternity leave, so I'm your secretary for the next six weeks or so."

  "I see." Nate's trying to control me, getting rid of my loyal people and assigning his toadies.

  "Is there anything you need immediately?"

  Hangover cure? Not from your hands, honey! "A map. Maps. This world and this continent."

  "Yes, sir!" She bustled out and he grabbed the rolled map from the rack.

  He spread it out on the work table. The local area, perhaps a third of the continent, it showed his guard stations, the Oner's guard stations in the west, and the Nomads' routes running from north to south roughly in between. He finger walked out to a spot on the map. Roughly equidistant from here and the Oner's largest town, south of being directly in between. Then his hand swept off further south.

  "Christ, I've had an army here for six years and never even explored, let alone made any of it mine. What was I thinking?" He swallowed. What am I thinking now? Is this the onset of Male Menopause, suddenly I'm going to go out and conquer the world—literally?

  Harriet bustled back in with two printed maps, still warm from the fabber. Not bad looking, maybe I should try to steer her loyalties back toward me.

  He flashed her a smile and "Thanks." He didn't have time for her right now. Now, he needed to study these maps. He took down a picture and pinned the world map to the wall. The continent, he unrolled on the table. North America, with a few differences. The North Atlantic was narrower, Europe a broad strait away. Ice caps here were larger, the lower sea level was responsible for most of the rest of the differences in coastlines and vegetation.

  Good grief. What’s the nickname for the land between the Appalachians and the Rockies? Fly over land? Yeah, we’re fighting over the most boring area of the world. Surely there’s better places to be! How about California? I wonder if there’s gold, or if there’s enough difference in the geologic history there that there isn’t?

  I could go south of the Oner colony and all the way to the Pacific . . .

  Quit it! Think about exploring later.

  He rolled the map, and got back to the one showing all the farms, the towns, the forward guard posts of both sides.

  There were really only three problems.

  Boredom, finding an Empty World he could own all by himself. Why? It would be even more boring than this place! And figuring out how much he was going to manage the Oners at the meeting next month.

  That Oner paid me a bundle to acquire a Fallen Witch.

  Someone capable of closing a dimensional gate.

  The gate to Earth or the gate to One World? Or both?

  The question is, can Arrow close them?

  He hoped so, because getting one of the older witches out of prison wasn't going to be possible.

  Jack put another marker down on the table, beside the Earth Gate. The Gate to Embassy. Asset or liability? Can we use Disco to prevent either side from opening a new Gate? Use them to guarantee our freedom from both?

  We? No, no, the Oners. I’m just supplying a few services.

  I . . . think.

  Chapter Three

  16 Jumada 1408 yp

  Cough Town, Granite Peak

  Family dinners were . . . difficult.

  Tonight, Flu wished she could just stick some cotton in her ears and enjoy dinner.

  Grandmother was fifty years younger than Grandfather, and looked twenty years older. Oners often lived to see their two hundredth birthday, and never looked truly old until they were past a century and half. Grandmother's father had been a miner—she always said mine supervisor—that the Earthers had brought in, native to who knew where. Who'd seduced a Nomad girl.

  Grandmother always made it sound like she was the result of a grand romance. Well, the Nomads had had mixed feelings about the bastard halfbreeds being born into their tribes, and most of the girls—like grandmother—had married either the refugee Oners or the miners they "freed" from the Earthers.

  Mother, despite being half Oner, had the high sharp cheekbones of the Nomads and pale washed out skin tones and stringy red-brown hair that probably came from that miner grandfather.

  Tonight they'd gotten to snipping at each other.

  “. . . just a bastard.”

  Grandmother glared at Mother. “At least I didn't have a bastard.”

  Mother sneered right back. “Oh? Did you really marry? Was that a dowry or a purchase price?”

  Flu tried to ignore it, like Grandfather. Not easy when the subject turned to her own prospects.

  ". . . and if you'd married a Oner, poor little Influenza would have a future."

  And why the heck she’d named me after a disease! Oh sure, Grandfather Ahme was called Cough Cough, but all the same . . .

  "What? Married off to the first low class One who lusted after her?" Mother sniffed.

  "At least she could marry into a Oner Clan . . . "

  After dinner, Flu slipped out the back door. The cook, an elderly Servaone, sniffed dismissively. "You ought to be scrubbing pots, not sitting at the table like a High Oner. Uppity natives need to learn their place . . . "

  Flu ignored her and trotted into the old overgrown orchard. Her grandfather's family farm had been off and on occupied by Earthers during their reign, and the orchard had not been pruned properly. The trees were old now, and dying. Flu had a path, partly a wildlife track, partly shovel and ax work. The path led to a small lake, where the neighbors kept a small beach clean and cleared. The younger generation had pretty much taken it over.

  Tonight it was the boys practicing, tussling with each other magically, and when that failed, sometimes physically. They were just getting out the stones, and doing their preliminary exercises.

  Last year, I’d go down there and practice with them, even though I was never allowed to take classes.

  Behind a screen of brush, Flu got out her own stones, and stared at them.

  If my father was a Oner, there’s a fifty percent chance that I might be a Oner. Of course, I have no idea who my father is; Mother refuses to say. So the magic classes are closed to me, just like they were closed to Mother.

  And no matter how much she meditated, no matter how hard she glared at her stones, nothing happened. Out there the stones were glowing, lighting up the beach. Hers were dark lumps. She resisted the impulse to throw them at those boys, so bright and confident of themselves.

  If I was a Oner, I would have blossomed by now.

  I'm sixteen. It should have happened by now.

  Worthless Halfer.

  Native.


  ***

  Flu carted the tray into the board room and started pouring. The other new office assistant, a pretty blonde girl a year older than Flu, started handing the cups around and offering sugar and milk. The men ignored them.

  "We could be the leaders of this world, not some disenfranchised beggars on the fringes of the Empire. The plains were the breadbasket of the Empire, they can be the basis of a trading empire. We have mines—although the Earther's have been careless of the safety of their workers. We can make anything, do anything. Or trade for it if that's cheaper or quicker."

  Flu had heard the exact words several times. They were losing their punch with repetition. But this group was all nodding. They'd heard it before, had probably written the speech. They'll be the top echelon of their world. But how deep will the top reach, and where will I end up? Do they see me as a summer student, earning a bit of cash, or do they see me as a servant, lower than the Servaones?

  The blonde girl stepped out and sighed. "Tak. Tak. No. Do. Do."

  Flu blinked, recognizing the accent. "Oh. I hadn't realized you were, er . . . "

  "A Not-Native." The girl snorted. "Think Oners got problems? Ow bout us? Da were a Miner f't'Earthers. Cough Cough freed 'im. No go home, can't stay."

  "Yeah. My Grandmother was a Nomad. So the Oners don't want me, nor the Nomads. I'm Flu."

  "Cherry." She shrugged. "An we too yong f'anyone t'listen to."

  "I hate not having any say, no control over my future." Flu shrugged. "But what can a bunch of kids do?"

  Chapter Four

  7 April 3523 ce

  Serene, Granite Peak

  Sergeant Gallup sent a smirk his direction. “Your native girlfriend was out all night, last night.”

  Jack stepped up closer to the old battleaxe. “She is not my girlfriend. She is here for a special project, and she can go wherever she likes, whenever she likes. Got that?”

  She stepped back, looking shocked. “Just kid . . . Yessir.”

  He looked beyond her, where Arrow was stepping out the door, yawning.

  “Did you get what you needed last night?” Good lord, she’s practically glowing, and sexy? Oh hell yes. Surprised it took me this long to notice . . . or is it a spell? Is she trying to control me? But even braced and resisting, his mouth went dry as she ran her finger down her neck, no chain to be seen.

  “Yes. Now I need to practice.”

  “Right. Come on.” He turned and got back in the gyp. “I know just the place.”

  Off the grounds of the camp, he turned north. The ground rose, and the soil thinned, with rock outcrops and finally a broad rock shelf.

  “No one comes out here. So you can practice in private.”

  She nodded, squinted at him. “How many hair color spells did you drink? I think your hair follicles just gave up altogether.”

  “What!”

  “Well, you were brown haired, so I’ll just kill the black, red, and blonde spells. Don’t worry, it’ll grow back.” She waved a hand his direction.

  He leaped back.

  “You’re ridiculously emotional, right now. Go away so I can concentrate. Come back in, oh, five hours should be more than enough.”

  A week of that and then she wanted to study a gate.

  ***

  Jack leaned back in an attitude of relaxation, watching Arrow as she circled the gate to Earth. He was keeping his distance. She said he was still too emotional to be comfortable around.

  Emotional? He ran his hand over his bare scalp and tried to imagine he was feeling stubble. She says my hair will grow back, but she never told me it was going to fall out in the first place. Hell, I don’t believe I was drunk enough to try all those potions. Taller? Broader shoulders? But then it got wild and I don’t know what half of them were even supposed to do.

  He caught Lieutenant Higgins’ eye and shrugged. "It's my own damn fault for testing magic potions."

  "I'm sure it'll grow back, sir. And the new clothes look good."

  Damn ass kissing toady.

  "I just hope I've quit growing. I'm wearing my winter boots, and they're pinching a bit. Who'd have thought a potion to make you taller would also make your feet grow?" He shrugged. "Well, it's not really magic. It’s nanomeds. I'd guess it must regress the growth plates of the bones a tad so they have a bit of a growth spurt.”

  The lieutenant bit his lip. “So everything gets bigger?" He sounded a bit wistful.

  Jack wasn't about to mention the potion that would cure the boy of his insecurities. He ran a hand over his head again. He huffed out an irritated breath, as Arrow stood up and walked back to them.

  She tried for three days, and couldn’t open a gate up on the rocks.

  Arrow looked irritated. "I see how they are made, now. I probably could make one. But I don't know where it would go."

  “Can you close a gate?”

  “I know how that’s supposed to work, I heard Falchion describe what she did to close a Gate. I’ve never actually done it, myself. Maybe I could practice on one of those Gates on that route you showed me.”

  But how do we test that? Damn the Oners, I should never have listened to them.

  Maybe a little extra inducement?

  “Once you can make gates, perhaps you can go back to that Earth and rescue your mother?” Jack blinked at her stiffened back and narrowed eyes. What did I say wrong? “I suppose you’re used to being wild and free. Do this one job for us and . . .” He broke off at her bared teeth.

  “Free? Around my mother? Ha! You don’t know abuse and neglect until you’ve seen a witch at work. We’re just genetic experiments and breeding stock. Stepping stones to her power. When I walked into the prison and was separated from my mother . . . then I was free.” Glare. “Everything I do to regain power, everything I do for you, is so I can stay as far away from my mother as possible!”

  Jack jerked back from the roiling mix of searing hatred and icy fear in the girl’s eyes . . . pouring off her like a visible wave. He swallowed. “Sorry. Yes, I’ll be very careful to not bring you to anyone’s notice . . . not that she’ll get out for years.”

  “Don’t bet on it.” She hunched her shoulders. “That’s the reason I violated my parole. I had to get away from there before she got out.”

  He scratched his chin . . . Oh god! My beard isn’t going to be red or something, is it?

  “How about tonight we go through Embassy and back into the maze? We’ll find someplace remote and you can open and close as many gates as you want?”

  She straightened up. “Yes. Let’s do that. If there are any problems, we can just walk away. Disco can cope with it.”

  “Right. Horses or gyp?”

  “Oh . . . we won’t need to go too far off the track. A gyp will be fine.” She smiled. “We might even find your ideal world.”

  He knew it was risky, but . . . “Maybe we should just take this world. It’s got a nice climate and all. If you could close the Gates to One and Earth, we could probably use Disco to keep them from being reopened. Trade through there."

  Higgins inhaled sharply behind him.

  Dammit! I forgot about him. Well if he causes trouble . . . there will be an unfortunate accident.

  “No. Everyone’s paying attention to Granite Peak.” Arrow frowned. "You'd probably be better off claiming one of those worlds—I suppose the problem is that you don't want to do the farming yourself?"

  "You got it. A world with some stranded farmers would be perfect. And yeah, we ought to experiment away from where everyone is watching." He glanced back at the gate and frowned. "I still don't believe you told me to drink that hex. Why?"

  Arrow smiled. "Along with the unfortunate side effects, the Hex installs several magic and power collecting genes. Congratulations, you are almost a magician."

  "What!" He stumbled back. "What do you mean 'installs' genes?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Just what it sounds like. You want a magic user? You're going to be one, real soon now."

 
; Jack's vision tunneled, and he clamped his hands over his mouth to control the hyperventilation. Genetic engineering! Why didn't someone tell me! The memory of all those little bottles on Susto's shelves . . . and scattered about the floor and table, drained . . .

  He managed to get back in control and the lieutenant drove them back to HQ. Grinning.

  “Why are you so happy?”

  “A chance to tell both the government and the Oners to go screw themselves?” Higgin’s grin widened. “Fuck yeah, I’m happy.”

  Scratch the accident. I think Higgins may be quite useful.

  But it only got his mind off the genetic engineering for a few minutes. Jack locked himself in his office and spent the next hour in the executive bathroom upchucking everything he'd eaten today, and what felt like everything taken in since he'd first met Arrow. Genetic engineering, the boogey man of the modern world. What was he going to do?

  ***

  It took Jack a week to deal with the idea that he’d been genetically engineered. Or at least deal with it well enough that he could drive Arrow casually back to Embassy, and around to the maze.

  The first four worlds were too populated for what they needed. Not, he thought, permanent residents, but the Newsies from a couple dozen worlds whose employers were too chintzy to pay for lodgings . . . somewhere. And half the newsies were probably freelance anyway. Mostly from Earth or the Oner empire. So they camped in the maze.

  Maybe I ought to build a hotel on Embassy.

  He shuddered at the idea, and headed for the next gate. He definitely wanted to be past the cutoff to Comet Fall before finding a world they could use. Two gates past that cutoff, he took a side gate to a barren empty world. An Algae World, technically.

  The gate was high on a hill, looking over barren desert, red rocks and mesas, a river winding across the flats.

  Arrow looked around, straightened her shoulders and walked away from the gyp.

  “Where are you going?”