by Pam Uphoff
"I brought swabs. Why don't we wipe down the glassware and see what a DNA analyzer comes up with?"
She nodded. "And what will that get us? Maybe confirmation of the group being runaways, perhaps from involuntary incarceration to hide family genetic disgrace. They don't seem to have any political interests, however much lonely wives may be babbling into Endi Dewulfe's ears."
Izzo nodded. "I've got results on the man there, and the brunette girl." He popped his minicomp display back to the analyzer display. "Pity the man wasn't there today, I'd have liked your opinion as to the reason for his apparent dullness."
She frowned at the screen. "A two-sixteen priest?"
"Oh, umm, I handled the sample."
She frowned at him.
He tried to not babble. "The Criminal Investigations Department has a team out that should be picking them up at college, tracking them and watching for handoffs. Plus I’ve got two men watching the Fire and Sword Society at the City College there, and I sicced them on the Knickknack Shop people as well. Urfa should be getting their raw reports as well as my analyses. I think we ought to watch their purchases, as well. They have income from the business, but we need to see if they're spending substantially more than they are bringing in. But unless someone can get closer to them, or they do something so we can get a warrant to access their bank accounts, I don’t think it can be done." Alone with her, without the distractions of crowds and suspects, he could feel himself going gooey in her presence.
He wiped down the glassware and took the swabs away quickly.
***
Urfa eyed the male half of his so-called in-group. From the aggressive body language they’d probably been arguing again.
"Gentlemen, sit. Anything I need to know about, in the High Oners?" The poor things had been doing the party rounds, fencing, riding, flirting, and otherwise picking up gossip and rumors.
Ahba grimaced. "All the women talk about these days is that damned rider. Ooo, he's so cute. Ooo, he's so egalitarian. Ooo, isn't it just precious how he thinks he's as good as us? Then they haul him off to the hay loft for a little kissy-feelie."
Idlo snorted. "I don't think he's going all the way with the wives, just flirting and petting . . . with them talking up a storm about what their husbands are doing. I wonder who he's reporting to?"
Ahba growled. "At the rate he's going he's not going to live long enough to report to anyone."
Idlo's grin flashed. "I hope he can fence. There could be dozens of duels in his future. The woman ignored us, as romantic interests. On the political side, half the talk is local politics. Who has a chance at the local Council. The other half is about who should take a run for the Supreme Council. The War Party is planning on increasing their hold on the Council. And they're already talking about who to nominate for President."
Ahba nodded. "Opri, Akja and Ihle have the most support, at the moment. That may change though; there's a lot of time for game plays."
Xiat knocked and entered. She must have heard the end of that comment. "They're starting. Akja is putting everyone in their places – below him – already." She slanted a quick look at Urfa. "And I've located a Priest for your Archetype collection, but you'll have to fight the War Party for him."
"Any resemblance between you lot and an Archetypical Team is strictly coincidental." Urfa frowned. "Who? I haven't seen any Priests at all in this mess, let alone one in the War Party."
"Izzo. He's got the gene but not the training or position. He'd do for a Colonial Buffoon, too. Grew up on Homestead."
"Interesting. I’ve thought about recruiting him, but as you say, War Party. Anything of interest with that group with the forged IDs?"
"I’m running an unofficial analysis of DNA from swabbing down glassware purchased at the shop. If that’s interesting, I’ll make sure it gets into the official channels. Any chance of getting Dewulfe's, for a look at the whole group?"
"Interior's lab already has it. He’s a two-ten, possibly a Halfer, but could be a genetic drop. Izzo's already seen it." Damn. A Priest. So will he defect to me, or will Xiat turn traitor? There ought to be something we can do about this subconscious nonsense. It would probably help if most of us didn't halfway believe it.
Xiat frowned. "A drop? How did that happen? Random mutation? Chemical exposure?"
Ahba was looking upset. "What is a monster like that doing running around loose? Could he be fertile?"
"Haven't a clue, but the War Party Wives are Neartuone or Withione, anyway, so the reproductive potential is zero." Xiat looked like she was repressing a smile. In fact, there went her best innocent look. "Now, he could spread odd genes all around if he was boffing the hired help, instead of sticking to the players' wives."
Ahba stiffened. "I expect he’s doing that too. Should we find out?"
Xiat shrugged. "It hardly matters, he couldn't get a Oner pregnant. Although I've never heard of such a high number in a Halfer. Two ten?"
"Interior is checking for any rumors of an underground genetic lab." Urfa let it hang, and watched Xiat’s eyebrows rise.
"Accidental exposure to something designed to remove the power gene? Or a deliberate test?"
That got their attention.
"Who the One Hell would do that! A Multitude lab?" Ahba was horrified.
Idlo frowned. "Micro manipulations are more of a Oner’s forte. A non-contagious delivery vector could really put a crimp in the opposition. Sounds more like Fire and Sword insanity than the War Party."
Rael snickered. "What? Those idiots manage something long term, cautious and cutting edge?"
Ahba glared. "The War Party wouldn’t do that. Must be the Isolationists."
Xiat drummed her fingernails. "It would all have to be done below the level of Princess supervision. It’s very hard to lock out one’s assigned Princess from one’s inner guilty thoughts. The One would put a quick stop to anything so anti-One it discovered."
"Oh? And you would know—how? Are you guarding now after killing your principal?" Idlo gave her his best lofty and superior expression.
Urfa sighed. "As I said, any resemblance to an Archetypical team . . . For starters, we're lacking the team part." He leaned back and waited until they all looked reasonably contrite. "Keep watching their fencing, if you can. It might give me some lead time on who's up and who's down, in the War Party. Keep your eyes open for opportunities in the Isolationists."
"Endi Dewulfe." Ahba growled. "He needs to be watched. He’s a wild card, likely to do anything."
Great. A wild card. The worst Archetype of all.
***
"Just rub in a small circular motion, concentrating on that bump right there, where the muscle is tight. Think of your hand as being a heating pad, sending relaxing warmth into that tight knot. Feel it soften up and relax. See how he dropped his head and his neck relaxed? It stopped hurting."
The girl looked at him, all dewy eyed and worshipful. "But I’m just a Halfer. I can’t do magic."
The young man shook his head. "Everyone can do magic. Just, some more than most." He slapped her horse’s shoulder and eased away. "Just rub the knots in his muscles, and make sure he’s getting mineralized salt."
Rael watched from an nice anonymous distance. Oh, you handsome muscular . . . whatever you are. You can come rub my muscles anytime you want. And then I could figure out just how strong you are, because there's no way you're a Halfer.
There were other watchers, too. A newsie had gotten this Endi Dewulfe’s casual assistance to a young competitor on record, and a couple of the War Party wives had watched jealously and were now closing in on him. The Halfer kid followed him with her eyes, but turned back and lavished the love on the horse, like a sensible teenager.
A man near Rael scowled after Dewulfe. "Dirty Halfer. Should never have been born. Those One damned Native Sympathizers degrade themselves, breeding with Natives and Multitude, and leave us with these arrogant upstarts trying to take our jobs."
The woman beside him nodded sh
arply. "Someone should do something about that man. He’s much too attractive to these silly teenagers."
Another man turned around and nodded, and suddenly there was a loose group of men drifting toward the stables.
A few of the women associating with them stirred uneasily.
Rael insinuated herself into the group. "Gee, I hope my boyfriend doesn’t get arrested. I mean, assault and battery. And that horrible man is so popular they won’t be able to cover it up."
Two women gave her a wide-eyed look, then hustled after the men. The other three looked uncertain. "He’s just a Halfer. The police wouldn’t dare."
"Don’t bet on it." Rael trotted down the wide aisle between the arena seating and the stalls. Not that I ought to have anything to do with this . . . But perfect teeth like that shouldn’t be ruined.
From around the corner, an angry squeal.
"Watch out, he kicks!"
There was a sharp crack, hoof against wooden wall, she suspected. Hopefully close to these, umm, isolationists. The two women backed into view, each towing a reluctant man. ". . . arrested, if that horse doesn’t kill you!"
Rael let them by, then the other men backed reluctantly into sight. Glared back toward, probably, Endi Dewulfe and War Party. Then they turned and retreated.
She smirked at another equine squeal. Who says nasty equine brutes have no purpose in life. I’ll have to find out who these other people are, although as impulsive as they are, they won’t be very high up in the Party.
Rael cut back across the showgrounds to where Madam Chin was supervising the loading of her students with one eye and their horses with the other. "That woman needs to hire a chaperone to help her keep up with this many teenagers."
Xiat looked around and grinned. "She’s a classic control freak. Note that every horse has a groom, but there’s no head groom. She does all that too."
"She needs help."
Chapter Ten
Le Havre, European Region
11 Jumada 1396 YP
Ydro gazed across the table at Heil. Trying hard to not look like a complete idiot. He'd been encountering the Knickknack gang regularly in the Commons. He needed to figure out how to get inside their home life.
"My other problem with the Isolationists, is that they completely rule out the possibility of friendship and trade between polities." Este took a bite of his sandwich, briefly pausing the debate.
Ydro dragged his gaze off Heil. "Peace never lasts. People always get into wars, until they are united into One. When we meet other people, we have to make them a part of the One, or we'll fight."
Kail snickered. "So you do the fighting part first? I mean, why not just leave Target Forty-two alone?"
Ydro squirmed. "We're going to protect them from Earth."
"Whether they want to be protected or not?"
Heil wrinkled her nose. "But why lie about needing their resources. Counting One World, there are five worlds with natives, and seven without in the Empire. Well, except for Granite Peak that the Earthers stole. Anyhow, I looked up the current and past Target worlds, there were plenty of empty worlds that could be colonies, if we weren't so picky."
"Ha! Dinosaurs or algae ponds. No good either way." He spotted Inre across the room and waved.
Este nodded. "But we've known about those algae worlds for over fifty years. If we'd worked aggressively to introduce plants and animals, we could be colonizing them now, not getting into a war over one that's got a pretty substantial population."
"Primitives." Ydro crunched up a fry as if it were the enemy.
"Forty-two? They're almost as far along as Homestead was. They've got steam engines in their factories. But they aren't as, umm accommodating as Homestead. Homestead practically volunteered to join after they found out about vaccines and antibiotics and the internal combustion engine."
Ydro blinked at Este. I never heard anything about steam engines . . . Este must have been in the External Directorate. Or know someone in XD.
Heil frowned. "Pity we attacked them . . . of course we don't know the real story."
Ydro jumped in, "Yeah, we have no idea who started what or why. I mean, the early reports were all about our friendly relations with the largest of five countries. We'd started to train their army in modern warfare and everything."
Este snorted. "Maybe that wasn't a good idea. Either we were betrayed by this 'friend' or the other four countries ganged up on them. Betcha."
Inre's eyes widened as the dichotomy between Este's appearance, accent and content struck him. How the hell the man managed to sound like a dumb yokel while carrying on a political debate was beyond comprehension.
"Um, this is Inre. Do you guys know each other? He was in modern history with us." Ydro gazed wistfully at Heil.
"I don't think we ever met. Hi, I'm Heil, this is Este. Grab a chair."
"We're dissecting the Isolationists." Ydro scooted to make room for Inre. Which incidentally shifted him closer to Heil.
Heil smiled. "Perhaps we should start with the Modernists."
Inre sneered. "Stand up for ourselves but not attack? Wishful thinking, no one can live that way."
"It won't work with Earth, but it's how we ought to relate to Natives." Ydro took another bite of his sandwich.
Heil smiled sweetly. "But will you let the Natives stand up for themselves and tell you to get off their world? The problem with Equal Rights for everyone is, well, everyone acting like they have equal rights."
"Most Natives don't even hardly use their worlds." Inre was looking appalled. He wasn’t used to dealing with native sympathizers.
Este snorted and pointed. "See that empty, weedy lot? The owner doesn't hardly use it, but that doesn't mean I can just start building on it and ignore the owner."
Inre scowled. "So . . . you're Halfer what?"
Este grinned. "It doesn't matter. We're all equal in law. Oners, Halfers, Multitude and Natives."
"But not socially."
Ydro made a note to track down their ancestry. Upcomer Native Halfers? From which world?
"Which is why everyone, myself included, identifies with our 'best' ancestors. Although in my case that's some anonymous meat picked up in a bar. Sad, isn't it?" Este smirked. And still looked dumb as an ox.
Meat. The term Servaone girls used for the Oner men they picked up for reproductive purposes. Even my Halfer relatives don't call Dad that. Who are these people? Or should I ask whose people are they? War Party, working against the Isolationists? Hell, they could be Interior agents like us, with a principal keeping secrets from the others at his level and even above. Or XD agents, sticking their noses in where they don't belong. Ydro suppressed a grin. Spying on spies.
This could be fun.
Chapter Eleven
Paris, European Region
17 Jumada 1396 yp
Uzga stopped him on the way in. "Izzo, bring your fencing gear to the office tomorrow. I'll take you down to the salle after work, introduce you around."
Izzo blinked at his boss. "Sounds like fun." Sounds like an invitation to a hazing. Or a political checkup.
"Good. See you later." Uzga turn the other direction.
Glue grinned. "Oooo, decided to Play?"
"Well. It was bound to happen sooner or later. And I can form my opinion of them as well." He headed for his cubby in the analysts' block. "Of course, I'll also be showing how little I've practiced recently." During the strange stuff, he'd fenced regularly. The focus and dedication to the body had been an anchor for his mind. He'd been busy enough these last few months to have not bothered to even hunt down a new salle to join.
At least he had a one day notice. That evening he worked on stretching and dug into the back of his closet, and hauled his neglected gear out of the corner. Checked for cleanliness and good repair. Worked up a sweat, stretched more. Practiced footwork and stretched as he cooled down.
And so, after a day full of reading reports on every person the potential counterfeiters had spoken to, he follow
ed his boss two blocks to an exclusive salle on Jiha Street. He changed and found a number of people he recognized, stretching and talking idly.
If you believed people like that ever truly idled. Efge, and Ydqe "Duke" were talking to another man with a military haircut. Surely not General Akja, it had to just be someone who looked like his pictures in the news.
"Izzo, you've been a member of the War Party for a long time, haven't you?" Efge walked over, looked over Izzo's gear.
"I joined in college—the first time I put myself through. I stayed away from politics when I was a beat cop." He leaned into a stretch and knew he was in trouble. Way too tight to make a good showing. "Ran a few campaigns for friends on Homestead, but I've never done much here on the One World." He leaned back and worked on the other leg. For such a small room, the ceiling was quite high, and those smoked glass windows up high seemed to indicate a viewing gallery for the shy. He wondered if anyone was watching, or conversely, if they had people checking that no one was watching. Is this a War Party venue, or do other people come here as well? And how do they exclude outsiders from these . . . little meetups?
"The War with Earth was over before you got out of college, right?"
"I dropped out of college for a few years. We'd disengaged from Granite Peak, and were rallying for when they found us again. I was on Homestead, running fast response teams to check out every single magnetic anomaly the satellites detected. Strange, looking back, that it took them seven years to locate another of our worlds."
