Tales from the Multiverse

by Pam Uphoff

  That’s when all the Purple ex-pats like Bee were born here. And this latest sabotage . . . I wonder if Xen did it?

  He bit his lip. And now they’re back in business. I hope to hell they never find our world again.

  ***

  They found some of their Mining worlds, with and without survivors.

  And started talking about deporting “all those bastard Halfbreeds.” There were articles about trying to find Purple, to send “their citizens home.” And increasingly. “Or somewhere else.”

  Jeff found himself dealing with fourteen upset people.

  “I never set foot on Purple! What would I do there?” Bee was on the brink of hysterics, and the smaller kids were crying. Peter was beating out a hot spot on the sofa.

  Jeff raised his voice. “Quiet down! Hush now. What you will do is cope.”

  They were up in the big apartment, but the door was open with Momma Golden and Shelly listening half to him and half to the kids in their apartments, down the stairs they were standing at the head of.

  “Bee, do you think they don’t have jewelry shops on Purple? Shelly, you know there will be women wanting their hair and nails done, right?” he looked around at them. “You kids are doing well in school, you’ll just have to finish up there, and get jobs there instead of here.”

  “But . . .” Victoria looked at him, big eyes pleading. “This is home! And, and, they’re calling us mutants!”

  “And they’re talkin’ about just dumpin’ us on any old world, just to get rid of us!” Bee wasn’t calming down.

  Even Shelly was upset. “We’re city people, what will we do if they dump us in a howling wilderness?

  Jeff scrambled for something to say and stopped as he spotted the two men peering around Mamma Golden.

  Mamma Golden turned frowning.

  One man had a sheaf of papers, the other, an electronic device.

  Seeing that they’d been noticed, the man with the gadget cleared his throat. “We are with the Bureau of Immigration. We have deportation orders for the person-and-family of Golden Badger.”

  It’s happening already!

  The government agents’ attempts to quietly hand them papers turned into a screaming match. Jeff tried to calm everyone down, the kids were all screaming and crying. Peter punched one of the agents and came close to knocking him down the stairs . . .

  They all wound up arrested, and trucked to a large warehouse that the government was apparently using to sort out the “Purps” as they were being called. Or that the government was going to use. There were only three other Purps here, at the moment.

  They were shoved into a corner by a lot of large men, as a quartet of men in suits walked in, inside a cordon of guards.

  “. . . Mutants like the Oners.”

  Looks like a government VIP tour. Probably to claim credit for the sweep. Problem or opportunity?

  Jeff raised his voice. “If they’re like the Oners, you might be able to pass them off as Oners, to spy on them . . .”

  One of the suits caught that, and frowned. Veered over to glare at them.

  Jeff swallowed. “They were born and raised here. Went to our schools, and pledged allegiance to the United Earth Government every morning. Yeah, they won’t all be good spies, but Purple is a civilized place, the people there are of a modern industrialized mindset.”

  Now all the suits were looming at him.

  “This fast deportation could ruin your relationship with Purple from the start. We got along pretty well, just trading, before. All profit and no cost, because they policed themselves. So really, when we find them, why don’t we reconnect like civilized beings?”

  “We?” When this suit growled, the others leaned subtly away. “Get this guy tested. I want to know all about him.” He turned and led the way toward the warehouse office.

  :: XEN! Invisible help needed! ::

  :: Old Gods, they’re starting the deportations already? They haven’t found the Purple World yet. ::

  :: Yeah, well, I’m arguing with them, and they’re going to test my DNA to see if I’m a Purp. ::

  A sudden crawling itch all over his body, his scalp itched horribly, and his mouth dried and soured . . .

  :: Open your mouth just a little. I’m going to squirt in some water, swish it around good and swallow. I’ve changed the DNA—just removed all the extras we’ve got, the rest is authentic Jeff Lovett—so you ought to pass a gene scan. Umm, you’re magic is going to feel slow and odd for a bit, but you’ve still got everything in your brain and heart. I’ll hang around, in case. ::

  Jeff swished and swallowed. A tech was setting up tables in front of one table, and Jeff was the first one chivvied up to get a few strands of hair yanked out by the roots.

  :: Good thing I changed your scalp and blood. ::

  Jeff didn’t even know which direction to glare. Even though he was glad to have Xen on hand.

  The tech carried his hair into the office behind the table. Jeff could see a bunch of machines in there . . . and in the next office, the suits appeared to be arguing, low voiced, with phones to their ears.

  One woman copied his ID information, well, Ace’s information, checked finger and retinal prints. The tech returned and nodded to her. “DNA report sent. He’s one of us.”

  The first suit stepped out and summoned Jeff with the crook of a finger.

  “That was an interesting idea. Were you just trying to keep your girlfriend here?”

  “I was more worried about the kids. But you know, even without the possibility of espionage, you really need them to be loyal, to be members of your society. You need to make the whole Purple World feel like they are valuable trading partners. Treat them like equals. Make up some good sounding alliance, and add a couple of the more advanced worlds to it, you know?"

  Jeff bit his lip. Am I actually helping them? “It’s a bit of a carrot and stick thing.” Oh Hell, Damien says that, but is it an Earth expression or . . . no, the guy isn’t giving me the evil eye, so . . . “Other worlds that are borderline, you can point and say, get your shit together and you can be one of them, with good trade deals and, I dunno, modern medicines? Fancy foods?”

  The guy, government rep or whatever, sat back, frowning. "I hadn't thought about those sorts of possibilities." He looked over at the kids, wiggly and poking each other, ready to break into another round of wrestling at any second. He winced and looked away.

  Jeff snickered. "Peter, Victoria and Rich. Aged fifteen to eighteen. Victoria will be graduating from high school next month, not sure what she wants to do with her life. I'll get her to send in an application . . . to whatever organization. The Department of Multidimensional Affairs? Think about it. Get her a clerk's job or some such in your office, and steer her toward spying. I dunno about training those magic talents."

  "We've got some Purps who work for us already. Hadn't thought about siccing them on the One. But a young attractive woman . . . tempting."

  "I'll make sure the others get plenty of exposure to spy stories. Work on their accents and grammar a bit . . . " Jeff shrugged. "Can't hurt, can it?"

  Jeff walked back the kids, resisting an attempt by the guards to steer him toward the door. “Trust me, you want me to try to calm them all down.”

  But after they’d all been tested, their DNA matched up to their ID, they were sent home.

  ‘We’re not deporting anyone right now, and only troublemakers, in the long run.”

  Shirley eyed him suspiciously, and as soon as they were out on the street, maneuvered so only the oldest kids could overhear. "That's what you are, isn't it? A spy. A spy from One World."

  Peter's eyes went wide.

  "Nope. A spy from Comet Fall." He noted their blank looks. "It's a world your Gate Authority discovered thirty years ago, and auctioned off to the highest bidder, as if our existence didn't matter a bit. We kicked you off, and now I'm spying to see if you're going to attack us again."

  "You're a spy!" Victoria looked horrified.
r />   "Actually, all I do is read the newspapers, watch the news, and pass the relevant news back home. Real spying just isn't much like they show it in the movies." Unless your name is Xen Wolfson.

  "Xen who?"

  "A spy who went to One World and did stuff worthy of a vid hero. I'm going to have to watch my mental shields around you lot. Because we have magic, too. I think some of you guys need lessons."

  "So we can spy on you?"

  "Oh, you're already doing that. There's not a whole lot of magical people on Comet Fall. Not enough to spot an Earther on sight. Now the Empire of the One? We've had all sorts of trouble with them, too. I've heard that something like ten percent of their population is magic, and so Earthers are really obvious, like walking around with a mental sign that says 'I'm a spy from Earth' or something. Helping Earth spy on them? Lovely!"

  "And all you had to do was kill Ace Worley."

  Jeff sniffed. "Ace is in something akin to suspended animation. When I get recalled, I'll send him back. Heck, I'll even cure him of his addictions." Jeff scratched his chin. "And I'll sign the building over to you guys before I leave. What happens then is up to you guys."

  "Oh." Shelly's voice was suddenly subdued. "Of course you'll leave."

  "It'll be years from now. Decades, maybe." He shrugged. "Or maybe you'll leave, and be inventing new hairstyles that are all the rage on the One World."

  Chapter Six

  It was way too late to sneak back to True's house.

  But two bottles of wine—an indifferent but drinkable red blend—and a spot in a local park that was out of sight of the road . . .

  And for authenticity , he drank most of it before a furious Martin found him and hauled him home. He staggered down the stairs and curled up in bed.

  Woke up with his nerves itching. Cracked an eyelid.

  True. Glaring.

  "Why?"

  A touch of magic to deal with an incipient headache, then he sat up and swung his legs over the side. "Didn't your brother tell you I was a homeless wino?"

  "You didn't act like a homeless wino. Until yesterday."

  "Yeah, well. Surprise. I ran out of acting normal. Excuse me." He staggered into the bathroom and shut the door. Brushed his teeth . . . tongue, gums, lips . . .

  His stomach rebelled . . .

  More toothbrush work.

  A shower. Clean clothes.

  Then upstairs to deal with True.

  Who was still pissed.

  Twitchy, hunted feelings. Is she that pissed?

  "So what's for, uh, lunch?" He looked over at her stormy expression. "Right. Pseudo ham sandwich. Want one?

  "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

  Xen shrugged. What would a wino say? "Fast, slow, hardly matters. Don't start caring. I'm a reasonably pleasant houseguest who will disappear from your life forever as soon as possible."

  She drew herself up coldly.

  "That's better." He walked on into the kitchen. Threw together a quick sandwich, and walked out munching, still under her frowning gaze.

  Twitch . . . He threw out his awareness, searching . . . felt the hard kinetic energy, and threw himself into True.

  The window shattered, a hard crack as the bullet hit the brickwork of the fireplace.

  He grabbed True and threw her into the entry, and scrambled after her. Opened the door to the garage and pulled her in behind the car, where the engine would block any bullets coming from the front of the house.

  Caught his breath and tossed a shield out in front of the garage. No need to ruin a perfectly good car, especially since they might need to run for it.

  Revving engines, squealing tires, sirens . . . crashing noises, then the sirens were fading into the distance.

  True's phone started ringing. From somewhere in the house.

  "Dammit, I left it on the dining room table." She started to straighten.

  "Nope. Stay down. I'm faster than you are."

  And I can shield.

  He bolted through the living room, bent over, swinging around the corner and sliding down behind the kitchen cabinets.

  "Grab my purse, too!" True yelled.

  A mental jerk and the phone slid across the table and into his hand. Her purse was usually . . . yeah, right above his head. He reached up and grabbed it, shoved the phone in, then dodged around the corner and sprinted across to the garage door.

  Pretending I can be shot—which I damn near was! They traced me fast . . . Security cam at the liquor store? Or just someone spotting me? The timing argues against them tracing Martin's family connections.

  True snatched the purse and dug out keys and phone.

  "Martin? Yeah, we're fine. So you had the house staked out?" A bark of a laugh. "I see. Well at least they were almost here. Now the question is, do we stay or go?"

  Crap, I'm going to have to shut down this impersonation at the earliest possible moment. Go get the real Sal's body and . . . swap back.

  He boggled as True swung a floor to ceiling rack out from the wall to reveal a locked cabinet of heavy metal. Not quite a safe, but . . . She unlocked it to reveal a really nice collection of weaponry.

  "Good idea, meet you somewhere in the vicinity." She hung up and grinned at Xen. "So, you know how to shoot?"

  "Yeah. Not these exact . . ." He looked over the one she handed him, accepted a magazine and loaded it, reached for a shotgun.

  "Good. You shoot, I drive."

  "Err . . ."

  "I know the streets, the car, and evasion driving."

  "Oh. Right." He grabbed a pistol and lots of ammunition.

  True drove like a maniac for the first few miles, and then slowed and submerged her car in the normal traffic. “No one else was working to stay up with us, now we’ll just drive sedately out to somewhere near my grandparents’ farm.

  “It was sold a couple of decades ago, and paid for a posh retirement community and final care for the both of them.” She sighed. “But sometimes I wish someone in the family could have bought it. Anyway, Martin and I called it the old fishing hole, because of the big pond. So he knows in rough terms where we’re headed. Once we get closer, I’ll call him and see if they’ve caught anyone.”

  “Ah, so we just take a nice drive in the country and then return? To fix your window and a few holes here and there?”

  That got him a glare.

  “Sorry. So . . . how did your brother convince you to hide an old wino?”

  “I owe him . . . and he didn’t think you’d survive in a safehouse known to a lot of the force.”

  “Umm. Yes. Organized crime does have a nasty habit of blackmailing and threatening people into doing what they want.” Xen leaned to watch in the rear view mirror as True changed lanes and took a ramp to a different highway.

  No one else made any last minute lane changes to follow them. He sat back and relaxed a bit.

  True looked over at him. “So where do you grow up? You never talk about your past, or family.”

  “I’ve lost touch with everyone. Well, they certainly had good enough reason to avoid me.” He shrugged. “I barely remember being young. In fact I work pretty hard to not remember.”

  “You sound like a cop, except when you sound like a soldier.”

  Xen looked out the window and said nothing. I’ve relaxed too much around her. Stopped playing “old wino.”

  They left the highway, drove through a small town.

  True broke the silence. “We might as well stop for lunch here, and I’ll call Martin.” She turned down a side street and parked.

  ***

  "Old stomping grounds?"

  "Yes. I spent a lot of summers out here. I used to love this restaurant. I keep coming back, hoping they've returned to their old menu." She looked at the menu in the window and shook her head. "No luck, of course."

  He followed her in, grinning. "Now there's a better retirement project for you than trying rehabilitate old winos. Buy a restaurant, and hire a cook. Experiment until they've got it right."<
br />
  She eyed him with disfavor and took the menu the waitress offered.

  Xen glanced at the menu, ordered their signature dish.

  "You'll be disappointed." True ordered a roast beef sandwich and they both sat back and eyed each other.

  "Sorry about your window." Xen winced. "Is it going to be safe for you to go back? To live there?"

  She shrugged. "Most likely. Once the trial's over, once you're gone."

  "I'll fake my death and disappear." He grinned at her expression. "So they won't be tempted to ask you where I went."

  "Thank you, appreciate that." Acid tones and a glare. She pulled out her phone and tapped a button. "Hey Martin, any luck? Drat. Well, we'll do the tourist thing. Call you later."

  He shrugged and leaned back for the waitress to deposit an odd looking excuse for a sandwich in front of him.

  "Well it was interesting."

  Snort. True backed out and headed out of town. They were quickly out in flat farmland . . . Xen frowned at the sign indicating that they should turn left for the highway they'd gotten off of before town.

  "Yes, we could have avoided the town altogether. But there was no rush and I wanted lunch."

  "I see." And can't even ask if it is usual to have the option of through or around the smaller towns.

  They stopped at the intersection, despite a single car slowing as it approached from the left, They started through the intersection and the other car accelerated.

  Hit their rear fender and spun them. They slid into the ditch and crunched down onto the driver's side.

  Sudden silence.

  He swapped glanced with True.

  "Find the guns." She hissed and jerked at her leg.

  Hanging from his safety straps, he could see her foot, trapped between the brake pedal and the crushed in side of the car.

  A quick glance, no bad guys in sight.

  He grabbed a bubble and swooped it over True. No finessing the foot, he cut off the pedal, and closed the bubble. Stuck it on his shoulder.

  He grabbed a hold and released his restraints. Grabbed another bubble and grabbed the rifle, the shotgun, True's purse, a couple of boxes of ammunition.