Trouble in Paradise (The Directorate Book 3)

by Pam Uphoff

  Ebsa eyed the vid. "Something the Fiend found amusing. And I'll bet they won't tell us, either. Probably classify everything she said."

  Paer scowled at the screen. "She was pretty cold and superior."

  Ra'd snorted. "And ready to fight these violent high tech brutes."

  That got a lot of people turning around indignantly to glare at him.

  Ra'd gave them a narrow show of teeth. "The Ash Witch community has a serious grudge against the people who invaded them. We killed three witches that day. That witch was probably sent into enemy territory because she has very strong shields. Keep in mind that this is less than a year after the attempted judicial murder of Nighthawk, and eight or nine months following her kidnapping. They consider themselves on the brink of a war."

  A girl two rows down hunched a shoulder. "She's just a Native. They'll get what they deserve. Soon."

  Paer bristled. "You should worry more about what they'll do to us, if we attack again."

  Ra'd snorted. "Personally? I'm more worried about the possibility they'll send Ape and Blob back here. Surely they'll be expelled after this?"

  They fell quiet, contemplating that.

  They watched the medics cart four men off on gurneys and the other four escorted after them, before the screen switched back to the live lecturers.

  Professor Ivy was shaking his head. "And things like this remind me that however much the Fallen are like us genetically, their magic has taken a very different path. Just their ability to manipulate dimensional phenomena has made their magic usage very alien to ours."

  The chancellor stepped up beside him. "So . . . they handled this illegal incursion in a very interesting manner. We have disavowed knowledge of the raider's plans and we'll be looking at what to charge them with."

  Ikku joined them. "But they committed very few crimes in our jurisdiction. Unauthorized use of gates . . . I'm not sure we have any laws that address this, as the permanent gates are so new. It's not as if they forged gate orders for a powered gate and cost the Directorate millions. They apparently just walked through the gate to Embassy with an unnoticeable spell. No doubt a pack of lawyers is looking over the wording of the laws, now."

  Ebsa suppressed a groan. They will be coming back. And they missed half the spring semester . . . maybe they can jump in now, finish their last classes and graduate in three months or so. I can deal with them for three months. Unless they're in some of my classes. Ugh. And Wedge and City ought to still be expelled and under arrest . . . for crimes committed here in New York. I really hope they don't get out on bail until the trial . . .

  "One bloody hell. We're going to have to watch our backs."

  Ra'd shot him a glance, and nodded toward the others. "And theirs."

  Paer rolled her eyes. "This is our senior year. All we have to do is not get into confrontations with those idiots, and we can leave this all behind. Get to work."

  Heak snickered. "First you three have to survive beating each other up tomorrow."

  Chapter Three

  Thursday 1 Qadah 1403

  The senior ranking match. They'd do this again before their last semester. And at graduation.

  They lined up according to how the instructors ranked them at the end of their junior year. Roughly a hundred students. Sensei Ikku had a list in hand and reordered them. He placed Ra'd at the top. Then the seven Action Trainees, including the three women. Then Ebsa, Paer, some men he'd never met . . .

  Ebsa snickered when he was sent to the seventh mat.

  I dare say Ikku would like to forget I exist. Not enough aggression for his precious Action Teams. Or maybe it's the Clostuone label that he won't accept as better than his Neartuone and Withione brutes. I think the poor man is going to have a very bad year.

  The old Sensei had been replaced at the end of the last Spring semester. Poor Arvi! Blamed for the actions of his stupid students. I think I'm about to really miss him.

  In theory each mat ought to have had twelve or thirteen candidates. Ebsa's had twenty.

  He ignored the whispers from the stands of observers. A few familiar faces—Azko and Heak, of course. And . . . was that the former governor of New York?

  Not going to be cheering for me, for sure not Ra'd.

  Heh. Impeached by the Regional Council and removed from office. But he probably thinks it's our fault not his. Attempted judicial murder. Sabotage of communications equipment. Illegal restraint of communications.

  I'd feel a lot better about him being here if he weren't sitting next to a subdirector from External Relations. Iffi, provisionally appointed Director, then demoted back to a colony subdirector.

  He's not a friend either. Yikes. We really screwed up our careers last year. Doing the right thing, but that's not going to stop reprisals. The future is going to . . . be interesting.

  He was called out for the first match, and centered himself. Reached for the Speed and ducked and blocked an impressive and fast whirlwind . . . got in two blows. Two more. A leg sweep to dump the man. The whistle blew. He bowed, and was sent back into the waiting group. Paer handled a big slow man easily. Then Ebsa face another man. A long series of blocked blows, then he sped further and hit the man at will. The whistle blew. Back to the group, to watch two well-matched men duke it out for the full three minutes. Then Ebsa was called out again to face a third man . . .

  So, that's the game, eh? Wear me out then turn me over to the Action Trainees. He slid up three tiers of Speed and danced around the man, poking him. Whistle. He fought six more men, then they called Paer out.

  Oh. Crap.

  Paer eyed him, eyes crinkling.

  She knows I don't want to hurt her, don't want to even hit her.

  Professional. I am going to be professional. I will beat her, and then I will beat three other women, then four men. And then face Ra'd.

  I'm toast.

  They bowed and both reached for Speed.

  It was a beautiful and deadly dance, this much Speed. He was careful to pull punches and kicks, watched out for Paer's superior craft as he beat her speed. Jumped over a leg sweep, punched her ribs, blocked a strike, rode a kick, caught and twisted—slightly—the leg. Ding. Three minute bell.

  The judge stalked over to Ikku for a low voiced, and by the body language not agreeable, chat. He stalked back and sent Ebsa back to the group and Paer to the eighth mat.

  Use your Speed, Paer!

  Ebsa dispatched the other nine men in the group, and was finally sent to the eighth mat.

  Just as Paer limped painfully off to the aid station.

  Oh Hey was laughing.

  Right. Professional. I'm not going to try to hurt him. I will pull my punches, same as always.

  First he was called out to fight Faod, one of the rare women Action Team Trainees. They have three, which they say is unusual. I suspect that the number of men in the advanced group will increase, after today, restoring the usual balance.

  She had only a single level of Speed and a simple leg sweep—at higher speed—won the first bout.

  Then Ra'd versus Oh Hey. A nasty snap. Ra'd stepped back quickly, as Oh Hey clutched his arm. The Sensei glared at Ra'd and sent Oh Hey to the aid station.

  Ra'd failed to look Ebsa's direction.

  Just as well. A thumbs up would get us both in trouble.

  Then Ebsa against Edke. Ed grinned and looked like he wanted to grapple. Fat chance. Ebsa fired up and hit him at will. For the whole bloody damn three minutes.

  Four bouts later he was dirt tired and facing Ra'd.

  Ra'd looked disgusted and scowled at Ikku. Then back at Ebsa. Bow. Center. Reach for Speed. All of it. All the way. Instinctive action and reaction, shifting back and advancing, spinning, diving, rolling, hard blow—it was nearly impossible to pull enough at this speed. The low toned whistle. Ebsa managed something close to a bow, then reeled back to the wall and slid down to sit. The lights were strobing oddly, and he didn't seem to be hearing very well. Something cold and wet against his mouth. He swallo
wed. Managed to grab the bottle and take another swallow. Sounds started percolating through again.

  ". . . vindictive and stupid. Hyper-focused on your precious Action Team trainees and trying—deliberately—to harm one of the finest fighters to walk into this Dojo. I am ashamed to have you as my teacher. Mister Ikku."

  Oh, Ra'd. You bloody proud fool.

  "You will call me Sensei."

  "You do not deserve the honor." Ra'd knelt down beside Ebsa and peered into his eyes. "I think you are all right."

  "I will be. Now stop being an idiot." Ebsa's eyes focused briefly behind Ra'd. "Oh, tell me that is a hallucination."

  Ra'd stood and turned. Bowed to Isakson.

  "I came to observe." The old man crossed his arms. "These are the people who claim to be the successors to the Warriors?"

  "Yes. They lack anything to compare themselves to."

  "You three did well."

  "We do not allow spectators on the floor." Sensei Ikku stalked up. "Nor do we tolerate insult to the institution from our guests."

  A scowl aimed at Isakson's white keffiyeh and green agal. Proper headgear for a Warrior of the One. Ikku had no idea who he was speaking to.

  Isakson straightened, looked Ikku up and down. "The boy fought—and won—twenty-five bouts. Arguably twenty-seven. Certainly those two were close. But since Ra'd had fought only nine bouts it is easy enough to rank them. Not that a fool like you will. You see only your foolish 'Withione' pride, and discard honor for political gain. You will never recognize a man pushed to his limits, and never losing control, never losing his temper, never losing his awareness. He is a Warrior. You, I wipe from my shoes." He turned and stalked away.

  Ikku growled.

  Ebsa drank.

  "You are not supposed to drink until you are done."

  "I am done." Ebsa tried to take another swallow, gave it up as a bad job and gave up.

  He woke up in the infirmary. The medic looked at a screen full of gibberish, and nodded in satisfaction. He removed a few tubes and needles and sticky tabs. "You're good to go. Please don't do that to your glycogen levels again."

  "Good plan." Ebsa staggered out of the cubical and found Ra'd and Paer waiting for him. "What time is it?"

  "Midnight."

  "Did I hallucinate Isakson insulting Ikku?" He eyed Paer, but she didn't seem to be limping.

  "Nope. And Idjit was declared the winner—since he was the only person you didn't beat." Ra'd sounded . . . happy?

  "I didn't beat you or Paer."

  "The hell you didn't. Everyone saw the way you were treated. The deliberate bias in the scoring."

  "There was even some booing." Paer eyed him worriedly. "Are you sure you're all right?"

  "No. I suspect I'll be missing the morning run . . . I'm hungry, I don't care what they loaded me up with intravenously."

  "Oh." Paer looked around, flagged a guard. "Get a car, we're going out for a late dinner."

  The guard eyed their karate gear, shrugged and steered them toward the nearest street as a car pulled up.

  "So . . . what's up with Ikku? Last year I thought he was a good teacher, those times he subbed for Arvi."

  "I suspect someone's been talking to him. Actually, it may have been the Action Subdirector. Now the former Action Subdirector. I heard he'd . . . visited over the summer." Paer frowned. "But I always thought he was fair."

  Ra'd snorted. "That was before Director Urfa chewed Exterior Director Ujmw out over the criminal actions of his Action Teamers and Arvi's trainees, and then not liking the reply, canned him."

  Paer grinned. "Really?"

  "And before acting XR Director Iffi tried to dump the blame for the raid on Arvi, fired him and promoted Ikku. Then was fired himself. Before the new XR Director suggested that perhaps Ikku ought to find some replacements and get them trained before we wound up in a shooting war?"

  "Ooo!"

  "I think by the time the blame fest was over, the whole Action Subdirectorate decided that the public spectacle was our fault. I don't know why Ikku decided to blame everything on Ebsa, instead of me. I suppose he thought getting rid of a Clostuone would be easier." Ra'd shrugged, winced.

  Ebsa eyed him.

  "Yes, I'm a bit bruised. And so would you be, if I'd been able to land more than a couple of blows. Your Speed even impressed Isakson, Warrior."

  "Hardly that." Ebsa snagged a nice sugary fruit juice from the fridge in the car.

  "No one else has the right to bestow that title. You're stuck with it."

  "What? From a contest?" Ha! You know I know and you aren't even pretending any more, are you? Warrior Trainee Ra'd ibn Nicholas ibn Emre who must have spent over a thousand years time-dilated down to almost nothing in a Bag of the Prophets.

  Paer snickered. "Did you know the crawlers have continuous vid recordings? So if they lose a team, there's a chance they can find out why. My poor Dad! Anyhow, Isakson has seen all."

  Ra'd grinned. "Nobody would actually believe you stuck your arm in a T-Rex's mouth, if they didn't have documentary proof. And Paer . . . just as well she wasn't there, what everyone said about what she did to a T-Rex . . . "

  "I haven't been back to Paris, yet." Paer hunched her shoulders. "I'm going to put it off as long as possible. Maybe the memory will fade a bit."

  Ra'd laughed out loud.

  A breakfast full of carbs and protein later, he wanted nothing but his bed. Unfortunately it was Ra'd who steered him into it, not Paer.

  Professional.

  He staggered out three hours later, and did make the two kilometers distance. Barely under the maximum time allowed, but he didn't puke. Had to count that as a win. Went back to bed for most of the day.

  ***

  The new students—freshmen and transfer students—were all supposed to check in by seventeen hundred. Ebsa was feeling almost human by then and rolled out for the official stuff.

  For the official first day of school dinner, everyone had to show up at eighteen hundred and sit at the table of their dorm. At least they served at the table, this many people juggling trays through the serving lines at once would have been beyond ridiculous. The depleted Action Team trainees occupied the head of table seven, the belligerent Edke glaring a dare to usurp his spot at the head of the table. Oh Hey, with a light cast on hand and forearm, glared as they walked past. Idjit had his back to them and stiffened, but didn't look around. Ra'd strode down to the foot of the table and sat. Ebsa sat to his left, and the rest, a mix of seniors and juniors clustered in the middle as if uncertain which group to avoid. The last people to straggle in stalled a bit then filled the gaps. The men next to him and across the table were strangers.

  "New?" Ebsa asked.

  They both nodded.

  The man across switched his glance between them. "Just transferred in. So . . . are you Action Team trainees?"

  "Nope. Info or X team. Exploration, you know. I think we're down to six Action Teamers, down at the other end of the table. That's Ra'd, I'm Ebsa. Both seniors. We transferred in last year."

  The second man was eyeing Ra'd. "You're that guy . . . " His voice faded at Ra'd's flat-eyed stare. "Umm. I'm Ajny." He pronounced all the letters, Ah juh en ey. "Withione Blackpoint, of course."

  Oh great! An inbred Black Point AJ with an oversized ego. Mind you some of them are damned good . . .

  The other fellow lifted his nose. "Ilhe Withione New Toronto."

  Second biggest Clan in North America, and therefore well represented on the staff. No doubt he will find a way to drop relatives' names into every conversation.

  "So . . . any specialties?"

  Ilhe's nose dropped a fraction. "Information management and analysis."

  A sniff from Ajny. "Neanderthal languages." Sniff. "Unfortunately this is the only place to get access to all the first contact records."

  "Ohhhh . . . Aren't you two going to have fun on the morning runs."

  Double stare down noses.

  Ilhe waved a dismissive hand. "No need. I
won't need to run from my subjects, even if I do any field studies. Yes, yes, I know. Required. But I can take all the time I want."

  Ebsa nodded. "There is a maximum time limit. And the girls snicker when they lap you." He sat back as the Chancellor dinged on his glass and rose for roughly the same welcoming speech he'd given last year.

  One year here and I feel like an old hand.

  "Oh, and don't drink the water. Some immature types like to welcome newcomers with laxative overdoses." Ebsa eyed his own glass. He and Ra'd glanced at each other, and pushed their glasses away.

  ***

  The next day, all the incoming students got their martial arts placement tests. It was nice to be a spectator. Ebsa stayed well back and watched. Mostly freshmen, but perhaps a quarter were juniors. Three men and one woman with Speed. Nothing extraordinary, level one and two. But with work they might improve that.

  Poor sods will be in the Advanced class so Ikku can see how they'd fit into an action team. Three non-action teamers in the batch I fought yesterday had Speed. I wonder why they weren't in the advanced class last year? Maybe they lacked training? Like me, needing technique? I wonder if they'll be in Advanced this semester, or not. Too much politics going on to know for sure.

  Then Monday it was back to the routine. The oh four fifty-five alarm, and running two kilometers. Better today. No nausea or shakiness after. They cooled down walking back toward the dorms. Comparing classes with Paer, Heak, and Azko.

  "So the five of us are all together in history, magic and equipment."

  Ebsa grinned at Paer's obvious relief, but shook his head. "I'm in a different equipment section. I used all the recorders, the micro-samplers, the biohazard clean up stuff on my second internship. No, it wasn't really exciting, but we needed to not contaminate some other stuff, so I cleaned the room like, twice a day, while we were doing the micro-samples. And I had to document everything and catalogue everything, which also qualified me for Info 400."