by Pam Uphoff
"And that changed everything for you, didn't it?"
"Yep. I hate realizing that if I hadn't been such a jerk, I'd have never met you."
Paer giggled. "Well, in that case, I'm glad you were a jerk."
"Oh, what? And he's better now? Uppity little Upcomer." Moron glared at Paer's hand on his arm.
"Incredibly good." Paer smiled and turned to the restaurant doors. The Maitre'd blinked when he recognized her. A quick sideways glance toward the uniformed guard, and his eyes widened at the confirmation.
"Table for seven? Ebsa?"
The man gave a quick glance at his comp, then turned all smiles. "Right this way." The table set for eight was prominently placed, right by a big window. The extra place setting was whisked away to another large table in the back . . .
Someone is going to be pissed that they didn't get the good table.
He did the whole hold the chair routine for Paer, and to his annoyance Moron circled the table to sit on her far side. Tayc bumped him with the chair he was standing behind and batted her eyelashes and simpered. "Oh, we ladies ought to sit together, not give anyone ideas."
Something resembling a quiet growl from Paer's direction. The guard placed herself where she had a good view and stared steadily at Offe.
"Oh? You helping the Newsies too? Not really impressive, or career enhancing, you know?" Ebsa eyed her glower and shrugged, held the chair for her, and circled around to sit across the table, between Amsi and Pause.
"What a paranoid little thwat." Pause turned away from him. "Hey Hioz, How are the statistics going on 'that project' of yours?"
"It's very interesting. Rather horrifying, but it leaves no doubt, you know?"
"Indeed." Pause raised the shoulder on Ebsa's side, dismissive.
Ebsa looked across the table. "Do you guys equestriate too?"
More down the noses looks.
Paer eyed him thoughtfully. I wonder what she's thinking.
"Personally, I prefer motor vehicles, but I've done enough falling off to qualify as a rider." Ebsa couldn't help but grin at the snobs. "If you haven't fallen off, you haven't ridden enough to qualify. Honest, heard that from an expert." By the name of Paer.
"The point of riding is to stay on the horse." Amsi was going to have trouble eating if he didn't bring down the nose . . .
"While doing something fun." Paer flashed a smile at a waiter and took a menu.
"Or competing." Ebsa glanced toward the Moron. "But then that can be fun and challenging as well." Paer looked like she wanted to kick him. He took a menu, and pretended to look it over. The conversation dropped to a grumble, while Moron tried to decide if Ebsa was baiting him or challenging him to a duel.
Well, at least the food was good. And when the waiter appeared with the bill, Ebsa produced his wallet and handed over his ID. The only good thing about living in the directorate housing is all the money one can bank. He thumb printed the reader and they all straggled out the door and into a beautiful warm evening.
Paer shook off the Moron's attempt to take her arm and trotted down the steps to stand on tip toe and kiss Ebsa's cheek. "Thank you for the lovely dinner." She turned him, and blocked the mischievous looking Hioz, closing in as if to kiss him too.
"Well, I'm afraid I need to get home. Ebsa, can I drop you off?" Paer steered him over to the car pulling up to the curb.
"Sure." Ebsa followed her quickly.
Moron pushed forward. "Hey, can get a . . . "
"No." Paer smiled, and Ebsa slid into the back seat beside her. Snatched his hand away as the Moron helpfully slammed the door. The uniformed guard elbowed him, loomed and glared. The Moron smirked. That's what passes for an analyst these days? I always thought they'd be on top of the Game. Or at least minimally intelligent.
Paer sighed and leaned on him, as the guard slipped into the front seat. "I am so tired of that lot. How could it all turn so sour so quickly?"
"They're what? Two years or more older than we are? Or did I just not notice them at the school?"
"Some of each." Paer curled up, leaning on him. "Can you come home with me?"
"If I can collect some clothes, first."
"Right." Paer caught the eye of the driver. A different one than yesterday. "Don't tell me I got reinforcements!"
The woman nodded. "All properly lectured first by Rael, then by Fool, then by Urfa . . . "
Paer snickered. "Sorry, but . . . "
"Yeah we all remember the reaming your first set in New York got." The car slid up to the warehouse and stopped. This time the guard got out, and when the door unlocked at Ebsa's proximity, went in first.
Ebsa flicked on the lights. Blinked at the damp echoing room. "One! Ra'd pressure washed the inside too?" He looked up dubiously at the lights overhead.
Ra'd looked out of his room. "Relax. I checked. They are designed for this sort of thing. It's a warehouse."
"Are you really going to paint it?" Paer looked around. "Not that it doesn't need it, but shouldn't Maintenance and Facilities do it?"
"They have a six month waiting list for minor things. I put the quarters on their list, and signed off on doing the rest myself." Ra'd looked around. "I have plans."
Ebsa grabbed clothes suitable for the theoretically lower key meeting tomorrow, and waved. "See you in the morning."
"Unless they want to grill us separately." Ra'd waved them off.
They snuggled in the car, and slept as late as they dared.
Chapter Four
22 Muharram 1405 yp
Scrublands Base, World EH 2946
Ajha parked the ute by the electronics crawler . . . and paused to study the army's tent city.
He walked over and found a very pleased looking Colonel Ypxe.
"Well, Urfa actually smiled when he told us about the raid. So . . . I don't suppose the Helaos will think the trouble with their gate mechanism was accidental?"
A razor edged grin. "Not a chance. It was too well guarded. But it is totally unrepairable. Orders directly from the president.
"One!" Ajha thought it out. "That was fast . . . but then the President must have been the first to know. Eight days ago."
"And we were told to prep five days ago. But they didn't tell us why . . . so do you know why the sudden orders and their desire for haste? C'mon Ajha, give. This is getting hot fast."
Ajha bit his lip. "Not for dissemination. The Helaos located the One World and raided for merge victims. An Exploration Team discovered them purely by accident. Rescued the kids—college students—and raised the alarm. So. No more raids. Excellent. And I'd better see what the Helaos reaction to losing their gate is."
Chapter Five
23 Muharram 1405yp
Gate City, One World
In the morning, Ebsa's scheduler directed him to a room at the Intel Center inside the secure gate area. Yet another set of Intel analysts who thought their clever questions could reveal something crucial. It was quite fun going through all the crawler's recordings and filling in the action they hadn't caught. The three Intel weenies were looking a bit aghast at the dinosaur carnage.
"I thought those things were herbivores." One of them shook his head as he watched two hundred honking maiasaurs charge into the swamp and tromp the Helios' small vehicles into the mud. Deep into the mud, badly crushed. Mostly with the Helios inside. The soldiers who tried to get away on foot were crushed as well. Half of their doodle bug type things had been close enough to solid ground for them to turn and escape.
"The maiasaurs weigh in at four to five tons each. The mobbing behavior would probably take care of velociraptors, and nesting across mushy ground is the only possible defense against a T-Rex." Ebsa shrugged. "We swung wide of the nesting area, along the shore, then turned into the lake. We anticipated that the Helios would cut the corner, and we figured either the soft ground or the maiasaurs would get them off our trail."
"Right. But that was the second time you crossed the river, right?"
"Yeah. The first ti
me, we needed to get line of sight to the camp, well, arguably fort, for a tight beam warning that hopefully the Helios couldn't tap. But if the Helios spotted the Fort, it was all for naught. So we prepared to boat down stream, if they found us again. They didn't, so we got our warning off, backed back into the lake and then headed downstream. Then we headed east, to draw them off in the wrong direction, if they spotted us again.
The Intel weinies checked the map. Nodded in near unison. "So you tracked them back to their base, where they had their gate beacon."
Ebsa hesitated. "It was more of an accident than deliberately hunting them. In fact, we couldn't really sense them, mentally. Nighthawk was better at detecting the Helios than we were. We picked up the students, they were a bit foggy, as if drugged, but unmistakably Oners. We thought they must have captured some of the team, or the scientists."
"So you were just driving along, and spotted their base?"
"No, we drove under some trees when we heard equipment—a drone, actually—and thought we'd better try to listen for more.
'We did a little sensing . . . and even Ra'd and I could feel the kidnapped students. So we grabbed them and ran for home, with a detour to lose the pursuit. The very few survivors of the maiasaurs were in no shape to follow us, and the fort was broadcasting that they were besieged, so we ducked down into a ravine and Nighthawk opened a gate to Embassy, so we could get the warning out. And drop off the kids before we went back to try to rescue the scientists and the rest of the team."
They led him through the whole use of Dinosaurs as a weapon.
Then homed in on Nighthawk's use of a transdimensional bubble to steal the beacon.
Ra'd's use of his to collect high ranked prisoners.
"Where did he get that?"
"I assumed Nighthawk . . . "
Triple glare. "That is the first lie you've tried." the blonde one said.
The brunette crossed his arms. "And it was a pathetic attempt."
Ebsa shrugged. "All I've got is guesses. A lot of Ra'd's past is classified, and usually gets referred to an Izzo Withione Alcairo . . . whom I believe is currently subdirector of the Pacific Region. Or you could just ask Ra'd and he'll probably give you a number to call."
The black haired one eyed him and started tapping at his computer. Then pulled out his comm and tapped a number in.
"Senior Analyst Ohge, Exterior. I have a question about Wqlw . . . Class Nine! . . . Yes, if our need reaches that level." He clicked off and frowned at Ebsa. "Well. At least you are transparent. A Montevideo Upcomer. Mixed up in that disgraceful trial of the Comet Fall girl. All your instructors either loved you or hated you. Your three superiors have all rated you highly and requested that you continue to labor under them. You live in the barracks, save a big chunk of your pay and managed to spend almost five hundred rials at an upscale Italian restaurant last night. What did you do, throw a party?"
"Showed off by picking up the tab." Ebsa shrugged. "After being insulted, except when I was being ignored or sneered at. And, of course, I walked off with the lady."
"And she was even more expensive?" Blonde again.
"Not that kind of lady."
"Riiiight." Brownie tapped at his comp, boggled. "You? You drove off with the President's daughter!"
Ebsa smiled. Ah crap, it's not all over the news is it? I'd better check, quick.
The black haired one eyed his display. "Well that explains the fencing lessons. But do you really think you can go that high?"
"Not if I don't acquire the required skills."
They had sandwiches delivered and kept poking at details. And Ra'd, occasionally.
"Which colony was he raised on?" Blondie looked casual.
Ebsa wasn't fooled. He knew a few info junkies. "Don't believe he ever said."
"And you never asked?" Browny too.
"Too busy, too well mannered, too much fun kidding him about being a space alien."
They finally let him go. He checked his comm.
A message from Paer: Med section meeting until 1800. Ugh.
And one from Ra'd: I'm going to go spray paint everywhere. Recommend you stay away.
So Ebsa checked the dojo, snagged a lesson time and headed that way.
The gym was used to agents and teamers coming and going, with and without appropriate gear. He collected the right sizes of much washed whites, a locker number and dressed out to bow to sensei Enni.
"Haven't seen you for a month." Enni frowned past him.
Ebsa looked around. The Moron. Might have expected that. And here comes his cheering section.
Pause and Amsi stepped up to either shoulder.
Drat. I ought to have done some basic research. I have no idea of the man's rating.
"Hi guys. Come to watch?" Ebsa nodded and turned back to the Sensei.
"No . . . but since you're here I thought you might like to spar." The Moron nodded politely to Enni.
Enni shook his head slightly as he stepped close. "Don't bother. Class three Speed." He lowered his voice. "But showy, egotistical, and pushy."
The Moron grinned. "Yeah, listen to him. Level three. I'd cream you."
Figures he'd misunderstand. With level three Speed he knows he's in the top five percent or so. And he must have been aggressively recruited by the Action Teams. Wonder why he went for analyst instead? I wonder how he managed to not get reassigned to Teams, whether he wanted it or not? He certainly seems aggressive enough to fit in. "Grudge matches are a bad idea, guys. And I'm out of practice, having been across for a while. Maybe next time." Ebsa turned his back, listening to the approaching steps. "Off, just apply some common sense and go away. Or observe the lesson."
Snort. "Hardly any need for that. Your Sensei doesn't even teach at our level."
Enni ran his fingers along his black obi, fingered the rank bands. Sighed. "Very well. I will judge this friendly sparring. No blows to head or neck. You will both be careful, and pull your blows elsewhere. Three minutes." He set the timer.
Ebsa settled into his center and bowed to The Moron. Who was breathing deeply and starting to sweat, a gleeful smile on his face. Ha! Ebsa stepped into his top Speed and let Off move first. Side step, leg sweep, controlling the impact, stepping back to let the poor fool hit the ground. Then leap to his feet and charge in with a flurry of strikes and kicks. All easily blocked.
Ebsa maneuvered around the pad, hitting the man at will, blocking and dodging, careful to barely tap him. Backed him around the pad and generally made sure the Moron knew he was bested. Off started to tire, got wild and furious, striking and kicking, with poor control. Ebsa stayed alert, until Offs's Speed dropped with his exhaustion, slowing the blows, robbing them of momentum. Then Ebsa went back to hitting him at will. Up one side, down the other, spin back and kick his butt. Gotta give the guy credit for perseverance. Another leg sweep and dump him. Still managing to get up, but Offe wasn't even close to level two any more.
The timer binged. Ebsa stepped back, relaxing, throwing up an arm to block a late punch . . .
"Enough!" Enni stalked forward. "Have you no sense at all? No manners, no respect?"
They'd gathered a bit of a crowd, and another black belt stepped forward. "Offe, your spite and that late blow are noted. I'd haul you off for a lesson, but your bruises ought to be quite enough lesson. Go away. Think."
The Moron glared, hands on knees, gulping for air. He forced himself erect and gave a minimal bow and staggered off.
The two teachers exchanged weary glances. "Why must we always have grudge matches?"
Ebsa snorted. "Testosterone."
Enni laughed. "Indeed. So. Since you've had your exercise, let's work on technique . . . "
Ebsa still needed to kill a bit of time, so he grabbed coffee and checked the news. The society sheets had pictures of the group at the restaurant, and one had a pic of him handing Paer into the car, a scowling Offe advancing . . . according to the blurb, "Princess Paer's Closey buddy" was a pretentious social climber, taking advanta
ge of Paer's sheltered innocence to push his way into high society.
Ebsa winced and decided to research Paer's friends.
All Withiones, a spread of clans. Two Alcairos, one Paris, one Hong Kong, one Madrid. City snobs, all five of them. When I was a child I hated living on Grandmother's little farm, while mother commuted to work at horrible hours. And as a teenager, I cursed Montevideo Clan for having the enclave so far out of the city, but all things considered, maybe I was lucky I had a slow introduction to civilization in the form of city attitude.
Or maybe I'm lucky I'm not a Withione.
Ebsa contemplated the potential he had for being a snotty High Oner and shook his head. "Somehow I don't think Paer would like me as well."
Back to data mining. Interesting. Off and Tayc weren't Directorate school grads. Daiki U. Pricy. And records not public. That explains why a level three isn't in an action team. Probably little weapons training, nothing but basic magic. I wonder why he wanted to work for the Directorate? Political ambitions, down the road? He must have wanted Interior, and a Paris assignment. Or maybe he's canny enough to know that it'll take him fifty years to hit the first step into that sort of power.
The other three were from the Directorate School. Honor roll, all. Class rankings high, but not high enough to capture the summa stuff. Average rankings in martial arts, only one of them even close to Team requirements. Of course he couldn't access their actual grades, or the classes they'd taken, for perspective. They'd been on various sports teams, gotten a few awards, nothing special or noteworthy. Then they'd graduated and started with the Intel section, and were still there, between two and five years later. Current assignment had a date and a code number. Classified. Eight months ago? Helios, of course.
Curious, he checked Paer's file. Ooo! Very scrubbed and brief.
Checked his own. Heh, nothing to brag about, other than, as a Teams trainee his standings in martial arts were in there, first, first, fourth, first for the start of the semester scores. First in the final, pre-graduation sorting. Sensei Ikku had replaced Sensei Arvi their last year, and the new trainer of the top students had been quite determined that an upcomer Clostuone was not going to beat his newly acquired Action Trainees. By the end of the first semester he'd at least gotten over it enough to score contests honestly. Ebsa sighed. His weapons score was tepid. Internship scores very high. Work history . . . Well, less than year since graduation, and already been shuffled off to a different subdirectorate . . . oh wait, what was that? He was listed as of this morning being assigned to the same code as The Moron.