by Pam Uphoff
"You think Ajha's going to be Pacifist?" Izzo shook his head.
"Not pacifist, not that way. No, Ajha just wants us to stop being rabid aggressors for no real reason other than winning points in our Game. When we were attacked by Helios, Comet Fall threw all their resources behind the Disco effort. What percentage of the population really wants to turn around and declare war on them?"
"They attacked us."
"They retaliated for our attack on them with a pinpoint exact destruction of the underlying problem. Tell me. What can't you do, any more? Have you lost power, magically or politically? If no one had told you you'd just lost six of the Prophet's genes, would you have noticed?" She started taking down her mental barriers as she walked across to his chair. "Do I glow less?"
***
"My first protesters. I'm so thrilled." Ajha was watching the demonstration outside his office tower on the vidscreen. Any attempt to do so at close range would have triggered the poor guards' protective reflexes, and he really didn't want to be dragged home by the scruff of his neck.
"Yep. Told you your Time Line was going to catch everyone's attention. Now, which bit of evidence do we send out first?"
"The Action Team in Ash. Have you done a reconstruction from the recorders?"
"Yep. It's all ready."
"Put it up, then. I can challenge the First Alternate Philosopher to comment upon it. Usse won't lie, but he's completely self-controlled, he won't give me any ammunition. Pity he's a Priest. Testosterone is so good at freeing the temper and the tongue. And Idre and Egto can testify as to how accurate the reconstruction is. Poor idiots, probably give them nightmares. Again."
Fein hunched her shoulders. "Heh. What those teenage girls did to a double Action Team gave me nightmares, and I didn't see it in person, and didn't know any of the people."
***
"You told me fourteen years ago I was too high to not be playing the Game."
Xiat nodded, curled comfortably into the angle of chest and arm. "Took you this long to agree with me?"
He sighed. "This long to realize that being Mr. Loner with a Princess girlfriend wasn't going to work. Mother has been introducing me to women who would make suitable wives."
She winced. "They changed the rules, for Priest candidacy. Any sons of yours will have the right to refuse."
"Yes. Both the parents have been pressuring me, since."
"I'm not the kind of Princess that arranges parties."
"Are you the type that makes arrangements of the other sort? I've always wondered if you were the Mr. Loner version."
She sat up indignantly. "We met back when you were a lowly Senior Analyst, way too junior to be assigned to a Princess."
"I know. But in the dark hours of the night, I have some awfully cold and lonely thoughts."
"Well, as soon as you marry into the Game, I'm sure the school will send someone. Then you can kick yourself for ever doubting the depths of my total devotion and slavish love." She flounced out of bed and walked over to the window. The one-way glass covered the wall, floor to ceiling. Thirty floors up. She always felt like she was flying. "I'm going to hate it. I'm going to absolutely hate it. Maybe I'll transfer. A different Region, or the External Directorate."
"I always knew that if you killed me, it would be because I needed killing, not for some stupid political paranoia. I don't want a different Princess, I want you." He followed her, wrapped himself around her. "I love you. I can't believe I'm having this cold blooded conversation with you."
"Bah. Everyone knows men like you marry and divorce routinely. No emotions allowed. Unless you fall in love with your Princess Watchdog, like in some damned lovers' tragedy, ending with the man murdered and the princess killing herself in remorse."
"Wrong story plot, I'm too alert to be killed."
"Bah. I'd poison your damned toothpicks, Mr. Easy."
"Oh. Now that's not nice! Now I'll never be able to clean my teeth without wondering if I'm about to die."
"You don't clean your teeth, which would be disgusting. You chew on them to give yourself an excuse to take the time to think before speaking. I'll bet your dentist has something to say about it."
"Hey, that's confidential, between me and my dentist!"
"Or if you want to affront some High Class Oner with your Hick Colonial bad habits. And don't think I don't notice the traces of Homestead accent showing up when you really want to irritate someone."
"I . . . don't watch my speech around you."
"Yeah, but that isn't so much an accent as a lack of faking a Parisian accent."
"Me? Ape my betters?" He unwound himself and retreated to the bed.
She snickered and followed him. "Some might even call it parodying your opponents. So, tell me Mr. New Player, what are Arlw and the Ax going to do now? What about any other powers in the War Party? Agni has bowed out, not made any moves for years. Efge has only been the internal director for four years. Are there any up-and-coming hot-shots—besides yourself—who might start something? Or are they going to focus outward and foment this war with the Fallen? What are you going to do?"
"Yeash. I'm too new to be moving up. I'll need to be collecting allies. With, damn it, a sensible marriage. Join a better fencing club. Fence more often. More aggressively." He shoved pillows up against the head of the bed, and leaned on them. "Ajki has just made a clear move in the Game. Backing the Ax. Just that is enough to give the Ax a major boost. Right now, everyone's so unsettled about the Third Alternate Philosopher that they aren't sure if Ajha's a plus or minus for a War Party leader. It's a bit hard to reconcile what he says with his record. I wonder if their heads will explode?
"But Ajki, now there's a definite, legitimate, target. Look for Arlw to hit out in his direction. The Ax's next best move would be for Ajha to settle down as at least a neutral influence, and preferably a positive. Ajha's not really a pacifist. If The Ax can get that across, and show a definite split between his leadership—war when necessary, never for its own sake, never for 'points' for the 'Oners Game,' then make Arlw look like a rabid dog, biting anyone and anything over the faintest excuse . . . Damn. I like this picture. You should go visit your Uncle Ajki and find out if I'm right. And point out my brilliant reasoning, if I'm not."
"And pick up a few points yourself? Good thinking, so long as your own boss doesn't start seeing you as a threat to him."
"Point. And there really isn't another Department or Directorate I could move to, to go around him."
She nodded. "Too many Players, and they'd all think you'd either just stolen their promotion or were planning on stealing the next open Minister's position."
"As indeed I would be, except I'd be low on seniority everywhere but here."
"Want to dethrone your boss?"
"No. I was planning on being just strong enough to be the obvious replacement when he retires, which should be in about ten years."
"And getting cozy with the Ax is way too strong a move. Especially as an opening move." She paced, restless. Heartsick. "Do you think you could ask Director Efge for advice? Mention specifically that you anticipate supporting him until he retires?"
He shrugged. "One of the unspoken rules is that we never negotiate openly."
She shook her head. "Thank the One I wasn't considered qualified to get into that mess."
She walked into the shower and tried to empty her mind under the steaming water. She'd always known he'd move on. Swim or die was the other unspoken rule. He'd accumulated a working reputation next to none. Time to move to the social arena, then on to the political. "I won't be a part of the social posturing. I won't."
He'll marry someone, and I don't share well. He'll divorce her, marry again. Get cynical about women. More cynical. Then he'll have children. They've changed the rules, he can dare to have children now. And I still can't. So he'll leave. This hurts too much. Bad enough he thinks I keep an eye on him for the One.
She dried off, found a robe and followed cooking odors to the kitchen
. "If you end up retiring in utter disgrace, I'll hire you as my housekeeper. Deal?"
"Deal. So. My first inclination is to keep a very, very low profile. Shopping for a wife, not marrying yet. Mentioning something to an ally of the Ax's, but not talking directly, nor actively aiding. Let's face it. This year is going to be full of adjustments. I need to lean toward one side, but not overcommit, because they could lose. Spectacularly."
"A year. Yes. An excellent idea." She blinked back tears. Dug into a steak, perfectly seasoned, cooked just the way she liked it. Fresh, real vegetables. Fresh fruit sections. "Of course, the man who brings down Minister Axti or Minister Arlw will leap into prominence."
"Is that a suggestion for me to watch for or to do?"
"Or suggest to the Director. Perhaps he'd like to be President for a few years before he retires. In fact presidents tend to stay well past the usual retirement age."
He sat down and stared over her head. "That would work nicely, wouldn't it. The Ax and Arlw are both a bit damaged right now. A power play from the third leader of the war party could be decisive." He sliced into his own steak. Chewed and swallowed. "When did we move from solving crimes to using them to our advantage?"
"When we moved to Paris. Decades ago."
He stared at his plate for a long moment. "Just because he's been passive for a while . . . eight years since the assassination attempt and he wasn’t guilty of actual, definite knowledge of it . . . I'll try to subtly determine if he's inclined to leap back into the Game."
"Mind you, I still want to catch the principal, whoever it is. But politically, if Efge wants back into the Game, he will need some sort of power play, quickly."
"A demonstration of his leadership, while Arlw and the Ax are floundering around playing at petty politics."
"Something at least federal. Possibly Imperial." She savored a slice of fresh peach. Looked for another. Playing the Game. One help me.
"I love you."
"I know."
Chapter Fourteen
22 Shawwal 1407yp
New York, North America
"No. I'm saying that in the course of exploring that World, we decided to kill the native magic users, as they might make our naked theft of a World from its inhabitants difficult. They did nothing to deserve being killed, apart from existing. A village of one hundred and twenty-eight souls. Twenty-four of them children. Forty-two of them teenagers. Of the sixty-two adults, over thirty were visibly old. Only thirteen of the adults were men."
Ajha smiled at the vid show hostess. "Makes us look like brutes, doesn't it? What I wonder is, what were our superiors thinking? If they were a threat, surely they should have sent more than an over-sized double Action Team. But if they were so weak that eighteen men could annihilate them, then they weren't really a threat, were they:"
"But, they were a threat. They killed, hideously, that entire Action Team." The pretty thing looked wide-eyed and innocent.
He wasn't fooled. "Yes. A dire miscalculation on our part, all around. They killed the people who attacked them, and went back to their usual routine. They didn't strike back, didn't hunt down the Post in Karista, didn't declare war on our ally Auralia, or even make diplomatic demands that we be kicked out of Fascia. They simply went back to their lives." He looked over at her.
"Then we staged an attack on Earth out of their world, left them holding the bag, so to speak. Not that Earth didn't know who was behind it, but we made sure that if the Earth could track the gate connections back, they would find only Comet Fall, not the One World. The Dimensional location of the One World is still our best kept secret. Only Comet Fall has ever found us."
He leaned forward. "And they have never given our location to anyone. Ever."
"That alone makes them dangerous!" She was sitting up, straight and alarmed.
Hadn't that ever occurred to her? Surely it was obvious . . .
"Indeed. They have stronger magic than ours. They are able to make low energy Gates. They have critical information they could easily give to Earth." Ajha looked back at the vidcam.
"Funny isn't it? They've never told our worst enemy how to find us. Not even after we discovered the far side of one of their experimental gates, and attacked them through it. It's almost like they want to de-escalate the situation, as if they want peace.” He sat back.
“We arrested a student from there, accused her of murder, for what was known to be an accidental death. When Xen snatched her from the executioner, we infiltrated a team into Comet Fall and attempted to kidnap her. They returned the team in a rather interesting fashion, then retaliated by removing the genes that caused the instability, the disgraceful rape statistics of Oners.
“Do you realize that rape statistics have nose dived? They're down to less than ten percent of the number reported before the bioattack. That's got to be the strangest 'attack' yet."
"They took six of my genes!" That burst out, full of fury, spontaneous.
"What abilities have you lost?" Ajha let the silence lengthen a bit, then stood up and walked out to the edge of the stage set. The light crew wised up and brought up the lights on the audience. "Is there anything you used to do, that you are unable to do now? Anyone?" For this low brow entertainment, they were mostly Multitude, with a selection of Halfers and Servaones.
Just as well. They aren't as homicidally inclined as the High Oners. It would be embarrassing to be chased off stage by the mob.
But the people watching the show from the comfort of their homes would include a solid portion of all Oners, and the replays even more.
"Would you like to gain something? The Fallen genetic engineering can extend your life, give you back your youth. Yes, you can live as long as a Princess. They can cure cancer, heal wounds as fast as the medgicians in our hospitals. Change the color of your hair, cure baldness.” He ran his hands through his shaggy locks. "Those last two I can attest to. Here's my official directorate photograph from three years ago. Gray hair, receding hairline. Bald spot.
"WHY THE HELL DO WE KEEP ATTACKING THESE PEOPLE?"
He let the echoes die. "Are we just so full of hate we need to kill? Are there so few Empty Worlds that we need to steal the ground out from under people? Do we actually need slave labor? Us? The pinnacle of evolution and we can't make machines to do the dangerous, tedious stuff?
"There. Is. No. Reason. For. War."
***
"Your old school chum is going to be lucky to survive his first month as Philosopher."
Xiat spun, snapped out a kick, spun back, stopped. Straightened and bowed. "Whew. That routine gets harder when you don't practice for a week. Yeah. He's stirring up a proper sand storm. Moving east. I wonder if he'll tour the continents first, or head more or less straight for Makkah?"
"Probably depends on the polls. Pity so much of his audience is Multitude and Halfer." Izzo collected his gear and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Eww! Sweaty. See you at the office."
Xiat forced herself through the stretches and cool down, showered, dressed and followed him. He didn't live here, they didn't advertise their long term relationship. Eleven years. He had a bachelor apartment suitable to his position, double the size of hers, entertained sparingly, only played the Game to the extent of occasional minor assistance to close friends, of whom he had only four.
Those friends had all reached some point of equilibrium, where they were marrying women with serious reputations for barrenness, putting their genetic reputations on the line. But knowing their own numbers, had all managed to find women they could have children with. Women they wanted to stay married to. Possibly even loved, not that they would ever admit to such a weakness in public.
The first of them had a four-year-old and a new baby. The last was expecting his first. And then there was Izzo. She couldn't blame him for wanting what she wasn't able to give him. She wanted a baby so badly, herself. The difference was that he had found a way out, and she hadn't.
One year left.
***
"
Hey, have trouble getting the mud out of your handcuffs, Xiat?" The analyst who specialized in Imperial matters in the South African region wasn't doing a very good job of looking innocent.
She rolled her eyes. "Co-workers should be seen and not heard."
A different voice took up the challenge. "You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to slide downhill in the mud. You have the right to a legal expert. If you cannot afford to roll in mud, a legal expert will be appointed to do so for you."
The China expert mock-frowned from across the room. "Are you now, or have you at any time in the past, been part of a threesome involving mud wrestling and bondage?"
"Careful, I know a guy who can beat swordmasters with his bare hands." Xiat plunked herself down at her desk and scrolled up her inbox. "I was only gone a week. How can it be so full. Did you guys tell everyone to divert stuff my direction?"
"It was for your own good. If you were so bored you were getting down and dirty with two guys at once . . . " The Metroplex analyst shut up as she made a rude gesture.
Most of it was just routine. Reports on People of Interest. Economic reports. Nothing like economic indigestion to mess up a perfectly quiet region. Which was why she also paid attention to the weather. Commerce. News digests. Ordinary crime was handled at the local level, and most of it arrived at her desk as statistics.
A memo forwarded by Izzo; Director Efge wanted them both, in half a hour. She filed reports, then headed upstairs.
The Director didn't crack the faintest hint of a smile. Not a twinkle in his eye. He simply ignored her.