by Pam Uphoff
He spotted Jim and flagged him down.
"Lon! What the Hell have you done? Umm, Heiniken. Thanks. Lon!"
"Relax Jim. I just tripped over the mess, I didn't make it. I'm not dirty. I'm not even aware it had that much muck potential. What's up?"
"Well, thanks be for that! I couldn't believe the engineering on those genes. There are several alleles we've never seen before, from the fairly small sample of Oner genes we've gotten, but most are just classic. Two of your samples had all but four of the known artificial genes, with two new alleles and three completely new completely artificial gene insertions that have never been seen before. The other fellows had, like about sixty percent of the known changes. How the hell did you get them? Why did you send them to me?"
Lon sank back in his seat. The room seemed to have dimmed. He took a careful breath. Another. "Jim, did you just say that those gene samples are from One Worlders?" The only other world with Dimensional travel ability. Oh, God, please no.
"Yeah. Didn't you know?"
"I . . . no, but I suppose the possibility should have occurred to me. Which samples are which?"
"Well, you've got a family group. Father, son and daughter. Two different mothers, and the daughter's got two different new artificial genes on the X chromosome she got from Mommy, plus Daddy's gene on the other."
"Right. Dudit is the kids' father. They call the other guy uncle."
"Courtesy title, or by marriage. He's not genetically close."
Lon wished he had some antacids. "Good Grief. I don't know anything about the One World. Can you give me a primer on them? Especially genetically?"
"We barely know anything. And that's all secondhand, from the natives of their so-called client world. The One commit suicide when captured. All you get are the genes and what they ate in the last twenty-four hours. What we do know . . . There's like ten percent of their population that are highly engineered, they are called the One. Everyone else is the Multitude, or Halfers. Halfers are, like, another ten percent or so of the population. They aren't literally half breeds, there's three-quarters and such in there too. If their kids get enough of the right genes they can be 'called' into the One. Your samples 'L' and 'H' may be halfers. Your 'D' guy and his daughter may be the first examples of the elite of the One we've ever gotten. Like I said, they've got genes we've never seen before."
"Any theories about how the One became so segregated?"
"Tons of them. Space Aliens engineered them. They're an escaped experiment from a world that does lots of genetic experimentation. Supersoldiers that turned on their masters. They're a self-engineered elite. Take your pick."
"The world where I encountered these two people has evidence for two genetic events, judging from the animal DNA studies. The one at thirteen thousands years ago—about the end of the last ice age—is probably when they split from Earth. The other is between one and two thousand years ago. We were wondering about the Early Diaspora theory."
"With the same genetic engineering as the One World? Occam's Razor."
"Yeah, but you just said they had some genes you've never seen before, even in the Oners. And would Oner's just stand there and let us give them physicals, complete with taking those genetic samples?" Lon chewed his lip and worried the ideas around.
Jim narrowed his eyes. "Can you get me some more samples? A split off of One World, thirteen hundred years ago may be possible . . . except I don't have enough Oner samples for a population analysis. Damn. Okay, what do they say about their society? The Oners are organized in groups. Clans. And their explorations teams come in several flavors, Information and Action are the only ones I recall. I think the Action Teams are their special forces, assassins. Information Teams are their spies. Damn. I need more samples. And to read up on any new findings."
"I can get you tons of plant and animal samples, but not human. We've only made contact with these two travelers with the kids."
"Hmm, well, I'll take anything I can get." Jim settled back. "Split from One World. I hadn't thought about that. If the One World had had gate travel that long ago, they'd be more widespread than we think they are. Unless they had a war, lost tech." Jim was looking thoughtful as they ordered and ate.
Lon chewed artificial meat and swallowed. "Perhaps they have the same home world, someplace that lost tech and never regained it. Two marooned colonies with originally identical genetic engineering?"
Jim narrowed his eyes in thought. "The One World could have been a colony on a world with a native population. Your new world could have been uninhabited. Slight difference in smallish founder populations. That would explain a lot."
They kicked ideas around, but without more data, they were stymied.
Lon was considerably subdued when he returned to his office.
The warehouse manager's gofer tapped on his door, "Dr. Hackathorne, some people are here to see you?" She looked back with a frown. They were right on her heels.
"Thanks Bec. Come in, sit down. I'm Lon Hackathorn."
The middle aged woman that led the trio stretched out a hand. "I'm Marcie Mendoza. I'll be the Case Supervisor. This is Field Agent Jerold Hastings, and First Contact Specialist Ivan Kolnavik. Tell us all about it."
Lon braced himself. "Dallas Twelve fifty-three. We have had contact with a few natives."
"Contact?" The Specialist frowned. "Friendly, I hope?"
"Oh yes. The two men seem to be traveling, one had his two kids along. There are no settlements in the area."
"How interesting. Tell me about these people." Mendoza clicked a recorder and also started tapping away as Lon talked.
"We flew a remote piloted drone out to check on what we thought was a grass fire—we detected an infrared emission. What we found was a wagon and two men. And a bridge." He pulled up the entire record, all the raw data, the pictures from the balloon that crossed the ocean, and talked about what happened in the unrecorded majority of the time. Then he pulled out the chip Jim had passed him at lunch. All the genetic results. He reiterated his thoughts about the Early Diaspora. "I'll be returning to Twelve fifty-three in a week."
"We'll be coming shortly thereafter. These natives may require additional personnel. And in case they are from the One World, we'll contact the appropriate people."
Lon nodded. He copied all the raw data and handed over chips.
"We'll be in touch."
The rest of the week was quiet, his budgets were approved and equipment and personnel moved quickly. Janice Berman showed up, beaming at the opportunity to work up labor estimates. She hired a pair of linguists and a pair of sociologists to do the field work, and headed back to Dallas to do the managing from a comfortable distance. Then there was a mad scramble as the gate authorities moved up his gate time. He shoehorned the linguists and sociologists into his gyp, checked that the astronomers were riding with their instrument and equipment, and arrived at the gate moments before they rolled.
***
Question was back in class, claiming that since it had to be their last week, she might as well try to absorb a bit more information. And she was going with Never to see the trader.
Never moderated her pace and strolled, after dinner, out to Trader's Alley. And immediately started getting itchy. "This isn't good. You duck back to the barracks and get our stuff. In fact, go invisible as soon as you're reasonably sure no one is watching. Meet me, umm, at the front gate. No reason to try and climb this metal mesh stuff if we don't need to."
Question nodded and turned back with a casual wave. Never strolled on, itchy. The trader had a nice stack of big fat books. "Look Honey, I made a real haul, just for you!"
Biology. Virology. Home Medical Reference. Ancient History. "Excellent. I'll take them all." She handed him the diamond as the shop door opened.
"Freeze! You're all under arrest!"
A herd of large men shoved through the door. The first one tackled her bodily and she pulled power as she ducked her head and hit the floor on her shoulders. She stopped pulling
when she felt him start relaxing. She had plenty of power for a shield or invisibility . . . metal clinked on her wrists and she was hauled to her feet, hands behind her and slammed against the counter. The little building was too small. If she warped light, there were still enough people here to physically corral her. The men were yelling incomprehensible things at her, at the trader who was looking as frightened as she ought to be feeling.
:: Question, hide or run. Head for the gate. I'll meet you there. ::
:: You'd better. There are men all over the barracks. ::
:: Just walk away. I'm stuck at the moment. As soon as I can get to the door, I'll be out of here. ::
The panic stricken trader was denying everything including apparently his own name.
She tried to concentrate on a single person's yelling, but all they kept say was "Where is it?"
The one holding her thumped her against the counter twice. "C'mon, honey, where is it?"
"I gave it to t'trada for t'good books. Which you are trampling and damaging." She tried to minimize her accent, use the right words.
The man pinned her to the counter, shoving his crotch against hers. "You don't want to make us mad."
"Where I come from, we kill rapists."
"What, you think some scummy Native Chief can give you justice? Don't bet on it Honey."
She drained just enough power to make him feel a little weak. "Please put my books into my backpack, and give t'trada t'diamond. That was our deal."
"But the diamond wasn't yours to give, Honey."
"My name is Never. Who do you think t'diamond belongs to?"
"Either Paris Mineral or Devaro Corporation. They'll do an isotope analysis, determine which world it came from and then they will deal with you."
"Sorry, I have already made a deal for t'diamond."
After some more incomprehensible questions, a bit of shoving, she was taken out of the building and put in a gyp. To her relief the gyp turned toward the gate.
:: Question? Are you out? Free? ::
:: Yes. Something tells me you aren't, however. ::
:: Well, I'm not free, but I am getting closer to the gate. ::
:: All right. My buz is by the training center. I'm going to go check the gate Schedule, and pick up any information I can about why they jumped you. ::
:: They seem to think they have monopoly rights to diamond trading. I may have tripped over some Merchant's Guild type laws. I'll see what they have to say. :: Never glowered at the man going through her back pack. Another man had her books, and a third had the big diamond. Apparently trading with these people was going to be complex . . . or of course, Mani had said something about these people sending in the military to take anything valuable. Did they think she was a mine slave who'd stolen a diamond? Too many possibilities, and too little information to base a guess on.
They veered away from what Never thought looked like the road they'd left the Gate Complex on, and took another road. It led to a checkpoint with armed guards, and the gyp pulled up to a long plain building, bare of decorations, but sporting a half dozen guards to escort her and her captors inside.
***
Florian Hastenberg frowned at the quickly accumulating people. They were going to try and take the credit for the capture from him.
Two Native diamond smugglers. Incredibly naive ones, if this woman had actually been trying to barter this big beauty. He rolled it in his pocket, and reluctantly pulled it out and put it in an evidence bag.
The other team had botched their assignment, when the other woman had returned to the barracks instead of accompanying this one to the trading post. He had the only success. The muscle took her to a small plain interrogation room, white, with one way glass on one side. She was given a seat, and the guards left the room. Only Florian and David Jetter remained. The woman hadn't seemed to even notice when he'd slapped the thoranamin patch onto her back. Of course the med tech had been prodding her, to insure she wasn't having a heart attack, and taking a sample for a fast gene scan in case she had prior offenses. Now she blinked blearily from the door to the mirror, then centered what was left of her attention on them.
The only other furniture was a tall lamp. A very bright one that Jetter turned on her.
"Now, your name is Neva Ash? From Thousand Years War?" Florian stood so she couldn't see him in the glare.
She visibly collected herself and spoke clearly. "Never. My nime is Never."
"Umm, how interesting. And you aren't really from Thousand, are you? We have a miscount, and you and a friend seem to have just walked out of nowhere and slipped into the worker levee. Let's talk about where you are really from, shall we?" Florian watched every change of expression.
"Now first we want you to tell us how you got here. Then you're going to tell us what your assignment is. And then you're going to tell us all about the rest of your group." Florian studied the faint changes on the beautiful woman's face.
Never blinked. "I am?"
"How did you get here?"
"You arrested me and brought me here."
Florian sighed. "How did you get from your world to the Labor School?"
"I grabbed onto the back of t'gyp. It went through t'gate, and we dropped off. We explored around, and saw the labor building eight. T'people unloading were dressed about like us, so we walked over and joined them."
"We don't allow people to walk around loose. Didn't anyone stop you?" Florian wondered if he sounded like a parent talking to a particularly slow child.
Never giggled. "No! We were invisible. Whoa! I probably shouldn't have told them that!" She frowned as she realized she'd said that out loud. Her gaze turned inward.
"How do you get invisible?"
Never hummed thoughtfully, keeping her lips under control while she thought. She didn't react to the question at all. Not a good sign. Her eyes refocused on him, a bit sharper. She should be going further under, not coming out of the drug haze.
Florian tried another route. "So, where'd you ditch your equipment?"
"In my locka. I think Question may have gotten it, though. Sorry." She blinked, her eyes defocusing a bit. "This isn't too hard."
"What isn't hard?"
"Yah questions are easy. What is t'problem with diamond trading? Is there a guild? Monopoly? What?"
She shouldn't be able to question me! "You can't sell what isn't yours."
"Why don't you think t'diamond is mine? I dug it up. We have t'permission of t'Land Grant Holda to mine diamonds. So, explain t'problem t'me."
Land Grant Holder. Well cultural information was better than nothing. "You were trading a diamond worth tens of thousands for books worth less than a hundred."
"Othah ways t'buy and trade were not told t'me." Her accent and grammar were slipping a bit.
"People in the labor school usually don't have gold and diamonds. Trader's alley is good enough. Now, tell me where you were born."
"Ash."
"Is that a city? A state or a country?"
"It's a village. It's in Section Two, Foothills Province, Kingdom of t'West."
The door opened behind her, and she sat up, fighting the drugs.
Florian glared at the interruption. The young Agent's excited eyes and outthrust slip of paper had him frowning. He took the slip and the Agent left without saying a word. Florian noted the increased number of guards outside the door, then dropped his gaze to the note.
The woman is a Oner, DNA confirmed. Greeson.
Greeson. A Special Agent with a reputation.
Oner. A One Worlder.
Holy Shit. Don't blow this, Florian baby, this is your ride to fame and fortune.
He took a deep breath. "Kingdom of the West, you say? Now we just need to figure out which one world your kingdom is a part of.
The instruments on the woman would pickup any tiny change in heart rate or body temperature. Behind the woman there was a strip of lights. A faint arrow pointing up indicated that someone thought this was a useful line to pursue. Had s
he reacted to the "one world" phrase?
One World agents always committed suicide. Always. Could this be a civilian Oner? A half-Native from one of their colonies being used as a front? A criminal hiding out in Earth's sphere of influence?
"So, if you aren't from Thousand, which one are you from? Gloom and Doom? Camelot? Volcano?"
"I know a lot of volcanoes." She looked to be fogging out badly.
Now we're getting somewhere.
"How about that Exstar mining world. What do they call it? Glass Lake? I've heard they've been importing whole villages from a dozen worlds. Are you from there?"
"No. Glass Lake sounds pretty."
"What Earther Company is there? Tell me about them."
"Well, Nelson's a real asshole. And t'treat Dydit and Lefty like t' idiots. And tey don't believe in magic."
Better hurry before the drugs make her completely loopy.
"What is Nelson's last name?"
"Manrique." Unusual, but Earther.
"What is Dydit's last name?"
"Twicecutt. It's actually a joke, something odd from his culture."
Florian pounced on that. "He's a foreigner?"
"Yes, a Scoone wizard. Very powerful, now that he's not a goat anymore."
Florian paused. Unusual drug effect.
"Is Lefty a wizard too?"
"Yes. He's not as strong or well trained as Dydit. He's from Verona. Tat's a different country."
"What is Lefty's whole name?"
"Carwell Lebonift. Lieutenant Lebonift." She blinked sleepily and just sort of melted out of the chair, hooking an elbow over the seat to remain almost upright.
"How long ago did they first come?"
"Umm, we fou Nelson about fo weeks ago. But I heard t'cook say t'only gotten there a week ana have before t'firs spotted us."
"What about the other two, are they from the One World?"
The woman frowned. "Which one is the one? This one?"