Empire of the One (Wine of the Gods Book 14)

by Pam Uphoff

  Este heaved out an exasperated breath. "Right. Just . . . give us as much warning as possible, when things are going to blow up."

  Endi heaved his saddle over his shoulder and grabbed his suitcase. "With luck I'll be able to learn more about their invasion plans. A date would be really nice. If we need to assassinate the President, I've got a three month window of opportunity, in the mean time I'll try to pick up recognition points all over their government facilities. I doubt I'll have much more contact with government officials, but if I do, I'll try to figure out friend from foe."

  Este nodded glumly. "Just make sure you can escape at any time, eh? And find out more about their magic. For a bunch of snobs, they sure don't show off much."

  "The Presidential Guards ought to be among their best. I'll get friendly. And while I gone, maybe you should visit this Gate Town of theirs, and see how much damage we can do there."

  "Or just ferry some diplomats through. The best war is one that never falls over the cliff into killing people."

  Endi nodded. "Maybe the kid has her father's ear, and I can get some common sense, peaceful suggestions to him."

  "If you survive the first five minutes in contact with the highest and best trained Oners in the Empire."

  ***

  Kail's ID card passed the inspection, and she followed the crowd and read signs and tried to look like she was an experienced traveler. Flying! Big powered machines that soared nearly four miles high, at speeds that translated to hundreds of miles per hour!

  After multiple checks from documentation to posted notices—well, lit signs with a stylistic letters and numbers—she decided she'd found the right place, but the .. conveyance looked more like an open tram than anything that could be expected to fly. The seats were numbered. She settled down in one that matched her documentation, and watched the staff running the operation, and the other people, fellow travelers, as they milled around, finding their seats.

  Kail had spent more money than she strictly needed, to get a seat toward the front and against the side. She had hoped the airplane had windows. She hadn't expected open sides. Shields, maybe? She couldn't ask, dare not expose that level of ignorance.

  She kept her mental shields tight. Apparently too tight.

  "You ought to sit back there with the rest of the Natives."

  Kail turned her head and studied the trio of men scowling at her. "Hmm. I detect a bad case of prejudice. Three of them. Is it contagious?"

  She shrugged aside a tiny little flick of a spell, analyzing it as it bounced. "Fear? You think I should fear you?"

  A small barrage of nuisance spells slid off her shields. People shifted away from them. Kail frowned at the moving people, then back at the trio. "Do you do things like this very often? In public, in crowds where someone could be harmed?"

  "Why aren't you affected?" the one on the left looked like his brains might have just kicked in.

  "Because I have very good shields." Kail shrugged. "But if it will make you go away and leave me alone . . . " She lowered her shield . . . lower, maybe halfway . . . the idiots weren't leaving but they'd changed their stance. Their weight was now back on their heels. She snapped her shield back up and turned away. Kept them in the corner of her eye. And modified her shield to allow incoming thoughts and emotions. Bad idea in a crowd. She closed up again.

  " . . . ing Princess!"

  They moved off and glared at her.

  Shields half down and they thought I was a princess? Which according to the Winos is the strongest type of magician in the Empire. Was that because they could see my expertise, or are they not as strong, magically, as we are?

  She watched as a trio of trams off to the side filled with people and moved off through a broad door. Outside she could see the sorts of planes she'd expected from her father's movies and books. The door rolled closed behind the trams.

  I suppose they get off these trams and climb a ladder up into the plane.

  The half blurred voice on the speakers announced that it was time to board her aircraft. The people who had stepped away moved back and found their seats. One of her unfriendly trio settled on one side of her, the other two sat on the far side of the central aisle.

  The controllers gave the trams a visual check, then they rolled out the doors straight ahead. They veered over to a specific plane, which had a ramp at the back.

  "Please keep your arms inside the transfer area." A recording, the voice pleasant and masculine, despite being obviously artificial.

  The tram rolled up the ramp and to the front of the plane.

  The airplane, on the inside, was a long metal and plastic tube, with long windows running the length of the tube. She tried hard to look as blasé as the other passengers.

  Clicks below the floor.

  Locking the wheels in place?

  She shivered in anticipation. Will it blast off like a rocket in Dad's old stories? I wonder how many gees it pulls?

  The fat man in the seat in front of her closed his eyes and appeared to go to sleep. The unfriend fidgeted, bumped her shoulder—the seats were not cramped, they beat stagecoach benches hands down—but he appeared to enjoy irritating her. She looked out the window. Lots of pavement and other planes.

  The plane jerked, moved forward, turned and trundled out across the tarmac. At the end of a long strip, it turned, the engine noise increased to loud but not even close to painful. It rolled forward, and she was pressed back into her seat . . . a little. It rolled, rolled . . . maybe they were still taxiing? But the engines sounded powerful . . . the plane tilted, rose and climbed gradually up into the sky. Much gentler than I'd expected. She watched in delight the wisps of clouds, then they plunged into a dense fogbank, and just as suddenly they burst into clear sky above the clouds.

  The sun shone brilliantly, and through holes in the clouds, she could watch the city give way to suburbs, to farmland and small towns. Mountains off to the south, way down low. Then dead ahead, the ocean.

  Can I calculate our altitude from the apparent size of the waves? Not without a good idea of the wavelength of the big swells, and anyway we seem to still be getting higher.

  She turned her attention to the interior of the plane. Roughly a hundred passengers. Some permanent installations in the front of the tube were, to judge by the odors, a kitchen area.

  Live servants brought them drinks, and then some horrible food, she read a magazine front to back twice, then had another drink.

  The unfriend got up and walked up to one of the tiny cubicles labeled lavatory. Kail got up and walked the aisle. Eyed the lavatory. Yikes! A toilet right there inside the plane!

  A necessity she hadn't considered.

  She sat back down and napped. Woke to find the sky darkened, the sea below invisible but for the occasional glint of reflected moonlight. Ahead bright sparks marked a shore line. North America. The equivalent of Southern Scoone or maybe Verona. And very different. Of course, their tectonic history is so different than ours, the maps show that the whole of the western part of the continent is changed. Unrecognizable, the valley of Ash doesn't exist, no Mount Frost. No summer Solstice ceremony on the crest.

  She fought down a wave of homesickness. Another six months or so, and we'll head home, hand this all off to a better prepared observer team.

  They crossed what looked like an area of widely spaced towns and small cities, before approaching a broad area of lights, and finally came down to the ground in the city that surrounded the Empire's connections to their varied colonies and enemies.

  ***

  Gate City was full of tall buildings. Well lit, even at night. An automated car accepted a cash card and took her to the inn she'd chosen. Kail dumped her small case in the tidy little room—really she was almost used to these people's custom of putting their toilets inside—and set out to explore.

  "The Directorate of External Relations" was the largest building closest to the highly secure area that probably held their gates. She expected it to be quiet, for the nig
ht, but instead it seemed like this was the time they handled all the freight shipments. An endless stream of odd rounded trucks trundled outward.

  Getting in close to the gates looked to be a bit more difficult. Kail warped light around herself and checked out the security from closer range. None of the guards gave any sign that they could see, or otherwise detect her. A big black car paused before the security barrier. Kail pressed a bubble to the side of the vehicle and climbed in. Shut it down to a pinprick, to avoid the time dilation effects, and popped back out a few minutes later, when it stopped before a small building on the far side.

  She spent the whole day identifying control rooms, power plants, and the two gate mechanisms themselves. One gate ran short trains through it. The individual cars were connected by long flexible cables, and sported shock absorbing bumpers on each end. The second gate could apparently switch between trains and individual cars.

  She found an unused slice of ground between two buildings and settled down to get a feel for it, to establish a recognition point. So I can teleport in from anywhere within about a thousand miles. Of course Xen—Endi— could probably jump in from Paris. Wretched over-achieving brother. I need to advance.

  She also anchored a corridor in the narrow space, and dragged the other end along with her as she worked her way back to the exit. Lots of armed guards, in case anyone tried coming in this way, but the crash barriers were open and she could just walk out.

  If we need to destroy the gates, it's going to be quite easy.

  She found a bit of privacy to let the light warp go. She strolled through the downtown area, stopped at a restaurant for a late lunch and eavesdropped on the conversations around her. People talking about work, about boy and girl friends, about sports and movies.

  So normal! Why do these people attack other worlds? Her eyes tracked a group of men in business suits heading for the next table.

  " . . . Bloody interfering politicians." The large man in the lead took a chair with his back to the wall. "Let me handle them and you lot just get on with your work." His expression was a bit dubious as he eyed the three other men.

  The expressions of two of them were cautious, with the last fellow looking stubborn.

  "No matter what his political party, he is the elected president." The stubborn man crossed his arms.

  The large one—Kail rather thought he must be some sort of supervisor—eyed the stubborn one. "Ajki, just do your job. Keep your head down, so you still have that job in four more years when this upstart pacifist gets voted out of office."

  "Director, don't you think this is a rather critical time to be blind-siding your boss?"

  Director! Surely she hadn't had the Director or Exterior Relations just fall into her lap!

  "I think this is an unfortunate time to be burdened with a boss so philosophically removed from what is going to happen next year. We are going to have to deal with this awkward situation, dance around the legalities. And I will not be stabbed in the back by a subordinate."

  They broke eye contact, as the waitress handed around menus and they ordered drinks.

  Kail's server returned, and she ordered dessert and coffee. The conversation at the other table might well be worth overhearing.

  "Target Forty-two needs careful handling. We need to emphasize that we are being careful, so as to not warn the Earth that we are still on that world."

  The stubborn one, Ajki, curled a sarcastic lip, and looked at the others. "And not collect too much information? One forbid we should have to give the president an honest assessment of the situation."

  The Director growled. "We have an honest assessment. The President doesn't need details. He just needs to know that we can beat the Earth forces on the World, and capture the Earther's gate anchor."

  That got a sneer from Ajki. "Oh yes, we can certainly do that. But shouldn't we mention that they have magic? That they have genetic engineering virtually identical to ours? So close that they could well be descended from Those Left Behind?"

  "No. We know their so-called magic is strong only in a few people. Probably less than a thousand people. They're a road bump, not a wall."

  "They don't have to be enemies."

  "They already are."

  ***

  The next day Kail decided to explore the Directorate Headquarters Building. She learned a close recognition point, so she could exit easily and then another in a woman's lavatory up a few floors. So she could come back at will.

  Otherwise it was simply a large office building. People bustled about, tapped away at computers, crowded the elevators—she stuck to the stairs—and congregated in the break rooms for coffee and tea.

  She took a break to let the light warp go, and her headache receded.

  Then back to the gates.

  Where there was extra security, all over. Her first attempt to enter a building triggered an alarm. She traveled to her recognition point and thought about what could have triggered the alarm. Her ID? Or did she lack some extra ID for the critical buildings?

  I don't think I'm as undetectable as I thought I was.

  She took the corridor back to her hotel room and ditched her ID. Pondered her wardrobe. She was dressed as business-like as she could manage, to be unnoticeable when she was visible. Perhaps she needed to be more ready for action. Loose pants, sleeveless shirt. Bubble pockets with various weaponry. What they called athletic shoes, here. A bit clunky, but with good traction.

  Then it was time to go test the limits of their detection systems.

  The light warp set off alarms. Hiding in a dimensional bubble and two finger walking in worked just fine, apart from the problems with the doors. Once inside . . . the light warp set off alarms again.

  Or is it just using magic? They aren't peering around for invisible people. She finger-walked around to a new room. Then reached out mentally, across the room and rolled a pen a few inches. No one in the room noticed.

  Then a squad of security people flooded the room.

  They closed and locked the door behind them.

  Kail pinned the bubble down and closed it completely, then opened a tiny hole. At the natural ten thousand to one time dilation, an hour had passed in the room. Security had departed. The people looked irritated.

  "Warnings! Threats of fines!" The woman grumbling didn't look like she was getting much work done. "As if we don't know better than to use magic around the steering module!"

  Oh? Possibly a less damaging way to mess with their gates? She finger walked out of the building with the bubble. Then she warped light and climbed out to approach the nearest gate.

  To her dimensional sight, it was a vicious whirlpool of lightning, snapping violently out into the fizzy blue of the dimension that was between worlds. She sat and meditated. And mapped out which worlds they connected to regularly. A wide spray around the sphere to the closest worlds, a few to others, reaching much further . . . she noted home, but the Oners weren't going there today.

  She could tell where they'd been by the crimps their massive gates made in the fabric of the worlds. She frowned at one world that had two crimps, a thousand miles apart. I wonder why they moved their attachment point? Maybe to get it closer to a valuable ore deposit . . . She broke off as a lightning bright gate reached out and grabbed it . . .

  From somewhere else.

  What? Who else . . . Earth? She traced the bright thrashing worm back and away into the blue.

  To that World, right there.

  Gottcha.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Paris, European Region

  7 Nicholas 1396

  Izzo watched the young man as he scanned the lobby of the Internal Directorate building. Endi Dewulfe was taller than most of the Oners around him. The man was well proportioned, broad shouldered and muscular, but not bulky or fat. Most men that tall are string beans. His degree of alertness is higher than I expected. He spotted all the guards and he's spotted me watching him. Izzo moved forward and met him at the reception desk. "Mr. D
ewulfe. I'm Senior Analyst Izzo Withione. Come on up and we'll take care of the formalities. Jerry, can he leave the saddle and luggage down here somewhere?"

  It would, of course, be scanned and examined while the man was getting vetted upstairs. A minion was summoned to take charge of the case and saddle.

  Endi handed it all over without signs of trepidation.

  Good. No weapons or drugs, unless he's completely clueless.

  "You've never worked for the government before?" Izzo led the way into the elevator and hit the button. He was half open mentally, listening to the man's surface reactions. Endi's thoughts were behind a shield that felt like a lifelong habit. Barrier to rejecting family? Or the thoughts of fruitcakes in whatever asylum his family imprisoned him in? How much can a Halfer do, if he has very good training? I’m not getting much emotional overflow from him, either.

  "No. Horses are my forte. Stables are infinitely superior to offices, in my opinion."

  Izzo nodded and led the way to the conference room. "I like the outdoors as well. Sometimes I wonder if each promotion is truly upward progress." He knocked and entered.

  Urfa stood. The President's Director was moderately tall and well muscled. Endi was probably twenty centimeters taller and made him look soft.

  "So. Pleased to meet you, after hearing so much about you. Please, sit. You've been analyzed and watched, so this is mostly a formality."

  "Mostly?" Endi looked cautious.

  "We are aware that you are concealing your origins and we believe we know why you felt that was necessary. But I'd like you to tell me."

  Endi eyed him. "When I moved here, I, along with a few friends and family members were repudiating our pasts, cutting off our antecedents. We felt we had cause for such a drastic move, and I still concur with that. Our reasons are private, and will remain so."