Crystal Core

by P. S. Power

  There was doubt in the words. Not anger, but a feeling that the man didn’t want to be fooled too easily. The other men just ate, since it wasn’t their story to go into. Not as far as they knew. Then, he wasn’t truly certain what either man sitting there knew about him. That he was from Noram, and had trained with them, but not why. Very few did, there.

  Director Turner. She had to know. Bridget his partner, as well. Cindy and probably the other powerful telepaths. He hadn’t really met any of them to speak with, but that didn’t mean their casual encounters hadn’t informed them as to what he was all about. It was one of the dangers of his life that left him feeling more than a little uncertain about what he was supposed to be doing.

  Spying for his people, against an unknown and all-powerful enemy. Except that they weren’t that. They were, in the end, a small collection of people and beings that reflected the side he was on with alarming levels of balance. The only thing that was really out of that model was, naturally, him. A huge amount of people that should have been him, if in a different world, were simply gone.

  Which was telling, really. He didn’t truly understand how that had worked, how killing him by throwing one of the enemy into the sun like Dare had done was supposed to have taken out so very many other beings. People. Versions of himself. Many of whom almost had to have been good beings that would have been on his side of things.

  Instead he was, other versions of him, almost always presented to the greater reality as a person that wanted everyone else to die. To save them, sure, but it was creepy and had gotten him noticed in ways he didn’t really love.

  Shaking himself a bit he sat up, realizing that his mind was simply too far from being clear for the time being. It probably was why everyone had insisted he go away and rest for a time. If he could see it happening, Taman would as well.

  Recalling his place in the whole situation, he glanced at the others there, then shrugged. Penny had mentioned that people knew his cover story there.

  “My father is Teral Baker. Timon, Tor and Taman Bakers oldest brother. You’re mainly working with Torrance? I spoke with him last night. Erath as well. It was Postern, so, you know, we had a big family meal. Made some speeches. The same as here.” He didn’t smile, being too concerned about his mind going. It was a subtle thing, so far, but could be a major problem.

  Then, he changed the color of his hair and eyes, back to what he originally had going on. He still didn’t look like himself, but he really did look a lot like he could be related to the others he’d mentioned. It was the bone structure, really. That and the fact that Tor always looked like he was wearing makeup. That was a thing that he had going on as well. Unless he used a disguise to hide that kind of thing.

  Robert gave him a surprised look, but it wasn’t a huge one.

  “That’s interesting. I didn’t know it was a holiday there. I wasn’t supposed to bring presents, was I?”

  The others gave him sidelong looks, even as he shook his head.

  “Not at all. The gift giving holiday there is Noram Day. For that you need to make the gift with your own hands. The more it represents you, the more impact it will have. So, Tobin should give away songs. They need to be different for each person though. Denis could bake things. Though something that lasts longer would be good, for a close friend. I need to make things for that myself. It will come fast, for you here.”

  Instead of chuckling, Tobin leaned in a little. Very seriously.

  “Who should we give gifts to? Friends there… So, all the mages that have helped us? Tor, Tim and Taman… I could… Work out something for them. Singing in English won’t do it… Um…”

  “Right. Remember though, that you aren’t expected to give a gift to everyone you know. Just close friends and family. It wouldn’t be out of place to make something for anyone, naturally, but the mages from Vagus don’t have that kind of holiday, that I know of. They have different traditions. Ysidril, like Erath, do as well. Inviting them here for a meal or celebration would probably work better given that, anyway.”

  Bridget Chambers, seeming warm and incredibly solid, though not that big, grabbed him from behind, suddenly. Having taken him by surprise, which shouldn’t have happened at all. The girl was a ball of energy. She caused a stir, anywhere she went. It was clear that she had been, and that Will had missed it happening. It was a poor sign, as to his mental state.

  “I need food. Be right back.” She sounded tense, but was awake and dressed for work, not exercise or being on television. Her tan uniform moved away quickly though, since the girl, while truly tiny, ate even more than Willum did.

  She was stronger and faster as well, so he wasn’t going to argue the point with her. Not that she was horribly violent or out of control. In fact, he’d never seen her be anything except decently controlled and even kind. Even when the situation would have driven most people to high levels of violence.

  They all managed to eat for several minutes, the girl, who looked younger than her years, seeming to Willum to be about fourteen, even if she were honestly closer to seventeen. Really, even that was kind of due to his upbringing. Bridget Chambers might be one of the most powerful beings he’d ever met, in hundreds of worlds, but she just was not tall. He figured she was about four-six or so, and bone thin. From a distance the little red head could easily pass as a child, even in the world they were in at the moment.

  Sitting on the other side of him, she started to eat first thing, fairly shoving food into her mouth. She started with pancakes, of which she had twenty or more, covered with melted butter and syrup. She did manage to use a fork and knife for it, but the bites were big, showing how close to starving she actually was. Only when the food was gone, a rather short time later, did she speak.

  “I was up half the night, getting ready for the sudden attack of the news hounds. I ate, but not enough. I should have had some oil to drink, but I got too busy. Plus, you know, I hate that stuff.”

  “I know. It works though, if you don’t have time to eat a proper meal. Cindy wanted me to wait here, in case any of the press wants to ask me questions. I don’t know about what. Still, free food, so I can’t complain about that too much, can I?”

  Tobin, who was normally pretty nice about things, looked upset. Disgruntled and almost surly.

  “You really can, if you want. The news jerks have been going back and forth as a group for the last three days. Half of them thinking that this is some kind of plot to sneak ugly Infected into society in order to take over and the others thinking it’s a brilliant plan to control us all.” The words got him to stop, then shrug. It was agitated seeming. “Which isn’t really wrong. I mean, without first modes, or looking too far from regular, most of us are just people. The biggest problem is that a lot of the Infected don’t trust us. The IPB, in general. I don’t know what to do about that. The press people aren’t helping that way, either. It’s free advertising, but it might be better if they just didn’t say anything.”

  The new man, Robert, started to speak, when a large collection of people, most carrying gear that was probably related to news gathering, all walked in together. Led by Marcia Turner, the Director of the government operation known as the Infected Protection Bureau. She looked a lot like Patricia Baker, though a bit shorter and with skin as pale as Tor’s, instead of the smooth tan the other woman had going on. It wasn’t a mistake at all. They were the same person, if from different places.

  Rather than take the reporters over to the nicer section, which was visible from where they all were sitting, she moved directly over to him, waving as it happened. Trying to warn him of her intent.

  That went nearly unnoticed by the men and women walking up. It seemed to be everyone attending the meeting, from what he’d been told. At the back of the group, Cindy trailed along, acting like she really wanted to punch some people.

  Since that was normally how the Director would be feeling, not Cin, it got his attention. It meant that someone was planning something, internally, that Turn
er didn’t know about, but Cindy’s power had clued her in to.

  Given that his friend was walking and not striking out, that meant whatever she was upset over was actually allowed under the rules of the place they were in. Otherwise there would have been violence, with the IPB people easily winning. The press was a threat to them, but only for their words. Unless some of them had come ready for battle, with hidden weapons.

  Casting his mind out, he tried to read the people there, which was hard to do, since Marcia started speaking to him, almost instantly. It wasn’t so much distracting as it took concentration away from the task at hand. At least if he didn’t want to sit there, glassy eyed and unmoving.

  Still, he found the man who was about to be a problem, before she got to him.

  “This is Will Baker. He’s from Noram, originally. I think you can ask any questions you have about that place? Be polite, though. They have different rules and dueling to the death is a thing there. For real. You don’t want to make an honest mistake and end up being in a sword fight.” There was a small grin at the words, since the Director was teasing the press, being certain that Willum was better behaved than that.

  Turning, looking over his shoulder, he saw several technological devices being pointed at him.

  “We can do that. I should probably change tables, so we can all sit. I don’t want to interrupt the meal for these others.”

  That took standing, and leaving his mainly finished tray of food on the table. The spot he picked was empty and about two tables away from the others. Far enough that they weren’t the main focus, but close enough for them to jump the news people from behind if it became needed.

  Which, apparently, it was going to be.

  The sour faced looking man, in a nice suit that seemed to mark him as important to the society he lived in, just stood back. He had servants to capture his image and hold a sound recording unit, so his voice would be easily heard. Willum couldn’t tell what he was about to say, but understood that it was going to be directed at him.

  An attack of sorts. A misplaced one, which the fellow clearly understood. Meaning he was trying to start problems, not just get at the truth of the matter.

  “Mr. Baker… Tell me, is your world planning to invade ours? I ask because it seems you and some of the IPB brought in an invasion fleet of space craft. How do you respond to that?”

  The words made sense, clicking into place instantly. The trouble was that the people there hadn’t spoken openly about the craft they’d gotten yet. Why that was… Well, it wasn’t any of his, or Noram’s, business. The trick seemed clear to him though. The man wanted him to become flustered, or act evasively, not making a clear and simple denial.

  If so, the man had badly misunderstood his level of honesty. There was a time, not that long before, when he would have felt guilty for months about speaking untruths. That had been well and truly trained out of him.

  “Sorry? Space cars? I’m… I mean, I have the basic concept, from movies here. Trek Wars, wasn’t it, Denis?” He didn’t make himself seem that innocent, but turned to the other man, who smirked.

  “Star Wars and Star Trek. I can get the confusion. We have a real space program though, now? Do you have proof of that, or is this just another one of your famous anti-Infected hit pieces, Mike?”

  Willum made a face, and looked at the camera, since there was a chance that others would be seeing the whole thing live.

  He laughed then, since space travel being real in his reality was in Cooking: Alt Real. Which was probably where the man was getting the idea from. That or from the fact that Noram and Harmony had given the man’s world twenty-two jump capable space craft.

  Waving, Willum shook his head.

  “Trust me, we don’t invade other worlds. Our population is about a quarter of your own and stable. Not counting the space fleet coming from the void. Even with that, we don’t go in for conquest. They don’t either. Maybe if you give me more to work from? Director Turner, do you know anything about this? I don’t. I can assure anyone listening that no one has the ability to move something as large as a ship between realities like that however. It would be close to impossible.” Which was a lie.

  The ships could be a tiny tile, or box of them, which was how he’d traveled with them. Plus, his Uncle Tor, who wasn’t even a line walker, had learned to jump between worlds, using a space ship, which made it technically possible for others to learn.

  Marcia chuckled a bit as well.

  “It isn’t enough that we have an alien for you to chat with? You need a fake invasion as well? I’m not seeing that one as possible. Do you have any idea how hard it would be to wage a war between realities? There are only, what, fifteen people that can travel that way?” She looked at Will, her face relaxed.

  “A bit more than that. Twenty or maybe thirty that I know of. The fact is though that number is spread between five or six different worlds. There are some machines that can do it as well, but those are even more limited than the line walkers and others who do it using powers. Moving armies would be hard that way. Even large groups are a pain. Plus, and I don’t want to be mean, but other than your friendship, we don’t really need anything from your world here. It’s a nice place, but we pretty much have exactly the same thing. Forests and oceans, things like that.”

  His voice was a bit placating, as if he expected the sour seeming man in his gray clothing, to be a bit unhinged.

  “We have sources that state the United States is secretly in possession of twenty space craft that the public doesn’t know about. A fleet that you brought here.” The fellow nearly growled the words, getting a shrug in return.

  Willum just nodded.

  “Sure, those. They aren’t real craft though. I mean, they’re just training units. Plus, as you said, we gave them to your government here. My little cousin, Clemance, came and showed your people how they work. He’s fourteen. Hardly a fierce invader, either. You have simulations here, so you get the basic idea, don’t you? True, the ones Uncle Tor made are really good, but that isn’t…”

  Stopping, as if he didn’t know what to say, he shrugged.

  Then went on.

  “I don’t think you understand just how expensive real jump ships would be. Millions of golds at the very least. Billions of dollars, or more, here, since you don’t have anyone that could make one, I don’t think. Not yet anyway. The simulations… You know, let me get with my family and see if anyone can get something like that for the public here? It might have to be a bit different, something a bit more fun, but… Yes, let me see about that?”

  He meant that part, at least in the abstract.

  After all, there were plays and things that they used on Harmony. He’d never seen one, but they could look and even feel real from what he’d heard. The basic idea was one that he understood pretty well, since it was how he’d made the new wagons for commoners. The new clothing amulets worked the same way as well. Not that he was planning to do it himself. They had the plays already. He just needed a copy of one of them, to show people.

  For which they could charge people to see, since people in the IPB world paid for things like that, part of the time.

  Then again, he didn’t really need to do anything. The accusation was false in part and the rest was being hidden and really, he didn’t care if people thought he wanted to invade their world. As long as he never did it, then there would be no problem.

  Cindy moved forward, and took his hand. It was caught on camera, but he didn’t throw her off. After all, they were dating and that would be rude. She glared a bit at the man who was attacking them with lies, but nodded as if deciding something.

  “Mr. Graduer… Who’s blackmailing you? I can read that you abuse children, and yes, I can get the evidence on that, so don’t bother denying it. Tell me though, who’s trying to get you to stir up trouble for the IPB? Who exactly?” She looked at him intensely, as if trying to read his mind. Except that when she really did things like that, her eyes moved back and fort
h. At the moment she just stared. Meaning she was faking it to impress the man. That or cause him great fear.

  Willum watched the man sputter and then growl a bit.

  “That’s preposterous! You can’t cover this up using your dirty Infected tricks, you bitch!” Then he moved forward, as if to strike Cindy. That didn’t go over well in the room they were standing in at all. A lot of the people there weren’t big fans of the press to start with. Some seemed to dislike this particular man on a personal level.

  That was made clear, when half a dozen of them charged forward, ready to protect their cohort. Several of the people weren’t ones that Willum knew by name. Mainly Team Two members. Tough and strong people all.

  One of them, a woman who seemed to be from Vagus, or would have been in his own world, actually got there first, tackling the angry seeming man to the ground. Hard.

  Then she put him in a painful seeming arm lock. It was, fairly enough, done to control the limb that had been set to strike out at Cindy.

  “We have this guy on child rape? We should toss him in the brig then. We don’t let that kind of thing go here. Freak.” Her voice was smooth, and it was clear the lady was stronger than the man she wrestled around. Enough so that there was a small creaking noise as the bones in his arm bent.

  That sounded correct to Willum, if they weren’t going to kill the man for his crimes. The only issue there was that, when he checked, it was kind of clear that Cindy was lying about the whole thing to undermine the other fellow. It was a good trick to use, given how the man had responded. Now he simply seemed to be guilty, or would, to the minds of those watching later.

  Willum didn’t speak, since it wasn’t his place. Instead, Director Turner moved forward. She picked the man up, carrying the Asian seeming woman upward at the same time. They both seemed to float a bit, but only the man yelled. Then, his arm was being broken, so Willum could forgive him that.

  Marcia sounded considering, instead of worked up.