Directorate School (The Directorate Book 1)

by Pam Uphoff

  "Well, I'm better than Ebsa, but that's . . . " Heak sighed.

  "A low standard." Ebsa looked glumly at the scattered shots around his four targets.

  "We're getting better." Azko sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

  "Yeah. I think once my wrist muscles build up to this, I'll be . . . much less incompetent with a pistol. Drat. I wish I'd thought about guns, back when I first decided to apply to the Directorate School."

  "Why did you? I mean . . . I don't mean to be insulting, but Clostuones may be thirty percent of all Oners, but they're only five percent of the Directorate employees, and I'll bet, less than that of the teams that go across."

  "It's just a label. Dictated by a political committee a few centuries ago. They say it's better than the old way, that just counted insertions."

  "But counting all the individual genes is more accurate." Heak protested. Then eyed him. "Are you one of those outlier Clostuones? With a high count but matching gaps in your sets, so you don't qualify for Withione or Neartuone?"

  "Well, yes, but that's the rules. So I've got a handicap in the name, but not the functions. Much better than the reverse. Right?

  "Huh." Azko bounced on his heels. "That explains a lot."

  Ebsa carefully reassembled his revolver. "Personally, I think that sorting for the useful vs the cosmetic genes might be even more useful for sorting purposes."

  "Or even just using the raw numbers?" Heak grinned. "But that would eliminate too much competitive marriage, reproduction and office backstabbing."

  Azko grinned. "Yeah. That'd be almost as bad as judging people by demonstrated competency."

  They all glanced at their targets and winced.

  ***

  "We're fairly confident in pinning down the split between this world and the Earth as caused by the impact of a carbonaceous chondrite meteorite in 1908. Or, on this world, not impacting. One theory is it hit nearly sixty years later, and may have triggered the nuclear war. Pure speculation." Professor Ivy eyed the overflowing auditorium. "There is no proof, no physical evidence, so don't use that on a test."

  Ebsa added that to his notes. And out of the corner of his eye spotted Ra'd finally making a note instead of doodling. He'd abandoned a three-D pile of horse manure to write "1908 or 1964?" then his pen swept out to sketch a meteor burning through the atmosphere.

  Doodled notes? Nervous tic or memory aid?

  On his other side, Paer leaned forward, intent. Pen poised.

  Ebsa pulled his attention away from the swing of her silky brown hair and tried to focus on the lecture.

  "On the Earth—which is probably the Prophets' original world—that meteor impact in a remote area was merely a scientific curiosity, and the political situation unfolded, as well as we can tell, much like it did here, until 1964. When something triggered the nuclear war here. There, they continued the pattern we'd seen before of numerous small wars between the smaller weaker nations, occasionally drawing in one or more of the nuclear capable nations. Which were the United States of America, and their allies, England and France. Russia, that had become the controlling part of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. And last, China. A three-way stand-off that didn't break for two centuries past our nuclear war here."

  Professor Ivy paused to survey them again. Stared at two girls with their heads together until they noticed and sat back primly. "And that world, fifty years after our crippling war, invented genetic engineering. The main problem they had was a lack of a good animal model to use for testing cures for genetic diseases and so forth. So they set about creating one."

  "According to some material recently released by Disco and approved by the One, they had laws that forbade using more than ten percent human material in any hybrid animals produced. And a lot of laws pertaining to the use of rare wild animals for experimental purposes. But most mammals have over ninety percent similar genes. Different alleles, slightly different versions of essentially the same gene, that produced close to the same result. And the genes are scrambled about in different order, turning on and off in concert with different genes in different animals. The most important differences lie in what are called control genes. The genes that turn the other genes on and off at the right time to produce this sort of animal, not that.

  "So they hunted down animals with long strips of genes in the human pattern, to save themselves a lot of trouble, then had to do the finicky work with the rest, getting everything in the same order as in humans. And then they substituted the human control genes for the various animal control genes. Not that they got it right on the first try. But they had a laboratory subject. Quite nasty looking, and dumb as a post, lacking even animal instincts."

  Paer shifted uneasily, pulling his attention away from the lecture.

  "At first." Ivy looked from notes to audience.

  "They kept improving their hybrids, even as they used the poor things. At some point they found themselves with very human looking animals. But proven in court and with plenty of substantiating scientific testing, to not be human, either genetically or intellectually.

  "And then they got something right, and suddenly had fully functional, walking and talking lab animals, indistinguishable from people in every way without a DNA test. They failed to bring this to the authorities' attention, and continued testing. They made fixes for various genetic diseases, that were later used in humans. They created completely artificial genes, and tested them in their lab animals. First scattered about the chromosomes, included some in the X and Y chromosomes. And then packaged in large inserts that were placed within six chromosomes.

  "Yes, I see you all squirming. The Magic School is very resistant to the idea of animal genes in our ancestry. Just don't mention that to them, and definitely do not mention it in tests or papers."

  Ra'd's pen sketched a fur ball with eyes.

  "But, back to Earth, fourteen centuries ago. The scientists noticed something very odd in some of their test animals. ESP, telekinesis, some sort of odd precognition. Computers worked oddly around them. Oddly in a potentially very valuable fashion. The final 'generation' so to speak, of these improved lab animals was not just indistinguishable from humans, they were in the top percentile of humans. And could mentally influence the computers directing the first trans-dimensional experiments. Some of the so-called animals took dimensional research projects and turned them into the first actual working gates."

  The fur ball acquired a vortex in a frame, and a worried expression.

  Paer, looking across, snickered.

  Right. Ra'd's much more impressive then I am. Is my group roll "the sidekick?" Drat! I always wanted to be the Hero.

  "Fourteen centuries later, we still have trouble finding specific worlds 'across.' So it's no surprise that some exploration parties got lost. No matter. They of course used the experimental animals for those early explorations. The ones that didn't have dimensional abilities."

  Ivy set his hand on the lectern and nodded. "And one day thirty-five telepathic, telekinetic experimental animals walked out of nowhere and into a war on our world."

  Ra'd's pen stilled, a shaded curve unfinished.

  "I know you don't like me calling them that. I know you've been taught that they were sent by Allah, the One True God. The Christians among us have been known to call them angels. In the past they've been called devils and demons.

  "My own religious instructions were that the One True God works in mysterious ways, and sent the Prophets, whatever they are, wherever they came from, here, to unite all the people into One. They have done so.

  "And that, students, we have evidence for. In our history. And whatever the true origins of the Prophets, they have passed down to us the genes, the power, and the knowledge of how to use it.

  "The Prophets married, had children, lots of them as they lived long lives. And for fourteen centuries we've diluted the genes of the Prophets, then re-concentrated them. Or rather, we've re-concentrated the large insertion packets of artificial
genes. Now eight percent of the population has the power genes on the X and Y chromosomes, with varying numbers of the insertions. Another fifteen percent of the population has some number of insertions, but cannot touch the One, cannot use power. We call them the Halfers, even though they are not strictly half Oner.

  "The other genes, the animal genes? Those have mostly been lost, so diluted by the genes of the hordes of Multitude here, that few people have any. Oners, on average, have only six percent of those other 'genes of the Prophets.' I would not be surprised if, eventually, we lose them all. Some geneticists argue that they have important influences on our magic. That the reason the Warriors of the One were so strong was because of those genes. We'll never know. The days of the Warriors are gone.

  "Test on this on Friday. Be prepared to expound at length on the origins of the One. Read the first three chapters of the text. Read. The. Additional. Material. It has stuff that hasn't made it into the textbooks yet.

  "Next week we'll start with the Arab/China Conflict and the Arrival. We'll analyze it from a modern view of parallel worlds. The week after, we'll return to Earth, with our new understanding of what happened after the Prophets left."

  Ebsa eyed Ra'd's scowl, the doodled double helix, the tapping pen. Does this conflict with his religion? Does it conflict with mine? It’s about as opposite of the lessons about the angels sent by God as you can get. Icky.

  But genes are genes. I really don’t care if they came from animals or a laboratory fourteen centuries ago. I like who I am.

  He followed Ra’d out of the hall. And I really hope Ra’d does as well.

  Chapter Seven

  5 Qadah 1402 yp

  "Are they going to do this even in the rain?" Ebsa strode out for the track. Not so much stretching as trying to wake up. No sign of dawn, it was all artificial lights, and no over supply of those. Are they prepping us for field conditions? Maybe they make us run over rough ground later? Or do they injure too many students that way?

  A snort from Ra'd. "You'll get used to it after a couple more weeks . . . Is that Nighthawk?"

  ". . . permission to use the track." Yep it was the dark girl. Dressed for running, and the sight of her legs in the floodlights was well worth getting up at oh dark thirty.

  The coach shrugged. "It's a shared university facility. I'll add you to the stats so you can compare your times with the directorate students' scores."

  "Thank you." She flashed a smile and took off.

  Ra'd sniffed. "Too fast, she'll be lucky to make a single lap." Then he sprinted off to catch her.

  Ebsa caught Paer's eye, and they both grinned.

  "I, of course would never laugh if a mere female beat him." Paer stretched.

  Speaking of good legs . . . "Won't happen." Ebsa watched as Ra'd and Nighthawk rounded the far end of the track. Ra'd was on the outside, covering more distance and not passing her.

  And talking while running. Showoff. Their voices were clear as they neared the scoreboard.

  Ra'd's superior tones. "You may need to pace yourself. Not that you are required to do the whole two kilometers."

  The foreign girl laughed. And sped up.

  Ebsa didn't even try to stay with them. Pretended he didn't notice them both lapping him on his second trip around the track. He almost kept up with Paer. Beat both Heak and Azko.

  Shower, breakfast, classes . . .

  Martial Arts. Again.

  “Today we will start with a warm up, then divide into squares.” The Sensei’s eyes drifted to them. “Even though some of you have not indicated a desire to join an Action Team, all advanced groups are trained in coordinated actions. And you three men, all with level three, or better Speed, will be actively recruited.”

  Oh One bloody Hell! Last thing I want is mental contact with any of this group!

  Ebsa set his teeth and started the warm up katas.

  A grinning Edge summoned the three of them.

  Ra’d crossed his arms and glowered at the other man. “I have no wish to work with you. I suspect this exercise will be more fruitful with a different mixture of personnel.”

  Sensei Arvi shook his head. “You cannot always choose who you link with. Get over that idea. Now. The four of you can all reach Speed. Let's see what happens.”

  Ebsa stepped back beside Azko and offered his hand. Kept his voice low. “Let’s start, add Ra’d and just see what Edge thinks of that.” He opened his shields a bit further, reaching mentally for the other boy. And I really wish I had more practice at this! Being the subject of a couple of truth matches does not make me an expert at a working contact!

  :: Really? Why truth matches? ::

  He could feel Azko’s surprise at the clarity of communication. :: My father was murdered. I was a suspect. Briefly. What a mess. :: He looked over to where Ra’d was still facing Edge. He stepped closer, stumbling a bit over whose leg was whose. Ra’d shot him a glance of recognition, and returned to his stare down.

  Ebsa swallowed. He can only kill me once. Reached out and set his hand on Ra’d's shoulder, two fingers off the gi and on bare skin. :: Join us. Bet we can keep him boxed in. ::

  Arvi narrowed his eyes and glared at Ebsa, but Ra’d softened his shields.

  Bright hard fierce. A breathtakingly strong glow.

  They looked at Edge. Ra’d extended his left hand, and Azko extended his right.

  “This is not a competition!” The Sensei sounded a bit apprehensive.

  Edge grinned and took Azko’s hand. Aggressive, seeking control. Ebsa leaned his mental attention that direction, bolstered Azko’s shaky self-possession. Ra'd followed, a flood of power.

  :: Gently. Azko isn't designed to be a battlefield. :: Ebsa tried to form an interior shield . . . Azko saw how it worked and took over, relaxing as his core self sheltered from the inadvertent attacks of the fiercer minds.

  Ra'd stepped up and grabbed Edge's right hand. Edge's attention split, enemies on either side. Ra'd did not attack. He simply existed, hard and bright. Sharp and the potential for violence clear. Clearly restrained, but very definitely there.

  :: Experienced. Where did you fight like that? :: Ebsa wasn't sure if he was asking, or Azko.

  :: A long time ago. :: A wave of anger, grief, guilt, and loss. Shut off suddenly. The merge collapsed.

  Edge growled. "Why are you so powerful? My count is two hundred fifteen. No one is more powerful than me."

  Sensei Arvi frowned at Ra'd. "You must have the priest gene. I know the feel. What are you doing here?"

  Ra'd stiffened and crossed his arms. "The One and I have as little to do with each other as possible."

  "Are you a third son?"

  "My antecedents are private. I do not share them."

  Arvi crossed his own arms. "Really?"

  "Yes. I will speak to you privately, if you insist."

  "Step into my office." Arvi stalked away. Ra'd followed. Edge took a few steps that direction, but Ra'd quite pointedly shut the door in his face.

  Paer sidled up to Ebsa, looking amused. Apprehensive, but amused. Heak and Azko just looked apprehensive.

  Ebsa eyed the president's daughter. "You know."

  "Yes, and I know Sensei Arvi is not hearing what he wants to hear. Ra'd probably called Izzo." She eyed Ebsa. "Am I mistaken, or did you three just gang up on Edge?"

  "Yep. That was . . . interesting."

  Azko snorted. "I want to know all about this murder. I failed to detect grief, are you concealing it?"

  Heak looked around. "Murder! Who'd you kill?"

  "My father. I mean, I didn't murder him, someone else did. I was a suspect and had two truth matches with policemen, so I sort of knew how to link up. And I didn't know my father. The only time I spoke to him—to ask him if he'd help with college tuition—he refused and told me to never contact him again. That was a week before he was murdered. So the grief was more for the loss of a dream than the actual man's death and faded pretty quickly."

  "Wow. Did your stepdad help with your
tuition?"

  "Don't have one. I'm a Halfer's bastard. The usual attempt to get a high ranked child for the school stipend and then support in her old age. My biofather's widow paid my tuition."

  Embarrassed blinks from the three pampered Withiones.

  "Wow. And you tested in here?"

  "Yep."

  The office door opened. Ra'd stalked back out. A faint smile and glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

  The sensei was frowning. Not pleased with whatever Ra'd had told him. Huffed and got back to work.

  "Right, not a smooth merge, but certainly an interesting one. We will practice a little bit every day. Now, I think we'll move on to the deliberate shift into speed . . . "

  Which apparently involved, for most people, voluntary control of adrenaline production. At first with anger, and in theory learning to skip the emotion and just reach for the Speed. The other students were all barely showing flashes of Speed. Even Azko's flashes lasted longer, and could be reached easier. Edge, Heak, and Ra'd sweated and glared, and kept to a constant elevated Speed.

  Sensei Arvi studied Ebsa's and Paer's cool smooth action. Sighed loudly. "You two can just . . . go over there and observe how most students have to learn how to manage the response. Do some pushups and sit ups while you pay attention."

  Paer grinned and bounced over to the indicated mat.

  Ebsa flopped down on his face and assumed the position while watching Arvi summon Ra'd and two of the older students forward.

  "Now, I regret to inform you that the purpose of this exercise is to completely lose your temper. To stop thinking and just react. Don't worry. You won't be able to hurt them. So go ahead and let fly, when you get pissed." Sensei Arvi paused. "Wqlw, you appear to be disagreeing with me. Again."

  "Yes sir. I can hurt them."

  "The purpose of the exercise is to enrage you beyond control."

  "This is not wise."

  "Then you had better fight me, and not another student." Arvi's hand snaked out and slapped Ra'd. "Show me your rage. Are you a coward?"