Last Merge

by Pam Uphoff

  "Sounds pretty damned dangerous." Inso was radiating uncertainty, well laced with horror. "Do we need to hunt him down?"

  "I'm not even sure he survived it. There were no other Gates he could have used, no time to make one." Xen bit his lip. "He didn't come our direction, and his own gate was pretty far. And he didn't have Q holding it open in the face of . . . whatever that was. I don't know if he got off."

  Garit shook his head. "One of the Hors de Combat, a hero. Old Gods. Well, looks like we're done here. Easterly, shall we round up the troops and go home?"

  ***

  Q watched the last of the Oner students crowding through the gate to their home, then turned back to the local people, the government representatives of the world Eldon had apparently adopted.

  I think I hope he survived.

  "So if you'll decide where you'd like a gate, we'll open a permanent one to Embassy, and you can take it from there."

  Phil and Jerry flanked the definitely spooked looking Secretary of State.

  "Thank you, Miss, err, Doctor, Quicksilver. I, err, suspect we'll want it somewhere in the vicinity of the District, I'll let your people know as quickly as possible. I haven't a clue how we can break this news to the people of the World."

  "We'll be back in a month. Or sooner, if we find more people from here." Q ducked back through her Gate.

  The Secretary of State looked around the University of Saint Louis campus, then turned and headed for his limo. Phil watched him go and Jerry looked around.

  "Looks like the kids are all taken care of. Nice people, those Oners and Fallen. So, you still got that dog in his invisible dog house?" Jerry kept his voice low.

  "Yeah. Guess I'll keep him until those kids start going back to their world. I'll get him his vaccinations and license as soon as I get back to Houston."

  "If you get back to Houston. The State Department may want you."

  Epilogue

  The air was barely breathable, a dry fog of smoke that stung the lungs and burned his tearing eyes.

  Pyrite bowed his head and kept quiet.

  Xen reached and listened. Reached further. Against a background of animal pain and distress, a bright spot. He focused on it, Pyrite stepped forward as Xen teleported them. A dark old man crouched on a muddy shore, a wad of damp leaves to his face.

  He saw them, and tried to flee. Xen caught him in three strides. Threw a bubble over him.

  He meditated again. Out further . . . was there something at the limits of his reach?

  This time he threw a corridor. Stepped through . . . pulled the opening off the rocks and onto flat ground before he waved Pyrite through. Listened and searched . . . found the unconscious woman curled up around her sobbing child. Another bubble.

  He jumped around, quartered the entire range of the people who had lived here. And found no one else.

  Then he took them to their new home. An IV for the woman, food and drink for the child, the old man. Suitably dosed.

  Q and her crew were hard at work.

  They were placing all the villages in about the same place on this world as they’d been on their old one. How far had these last three walked, or run, when their world went crazy?

  The old man didn’t seem particularly concerned about the woman. And scowled around as Xen teleported them to a hill, with a view of the village nearest where he’d found the old man.

  The man scowled around, not recognizing the immediate area. His eyes swept the village and away, then back and he frowned. Walked forward, puzzled . . . he yelled suddenly and galloped down the hill.

  Got one of them home.

  He looked at the woman, who shrank back away from him. Her daughter peered wide-eye from behind her legs. Not too afraid of this pale, ugly, man who had given her food.

  It was harder without touching them, but he felt the people of the next village and teleported to it’s edge.

  The woman grabbed her daughter and started retreating.

  Great, fights between tribes.

  Next village, the same, jump to the next . . . and suddenly the woman was running toward, rather than away.

  Then he teleported to Richie’s location and got put to work, taking bubbled villages to where they . . . would belong from now on.

  There was no one left to save, no one left to die on what was left of that world.

  ***

  Once the blindingly white light went away, Eldon contemplated the bell that seemed to be ringing inside his head. He couldn't see a thing outside the bubble, and an attempt to meditate had his head spinning so badly he nearly lost his lunch. He turned awkwardly around in the seat of the Suburban and started hunting through the bubbles all over the back. Food, good. Guns and ammo, useless. Bedding, oh, yeah, a nice soft blankey sounded good right now. Horses, good grief, why had Falchion packed all the horses? Ah, potions and wine. He pulled out a bottle of wine, covered up with the blanket and was asleep before the bottle was a quarter empty.

  He sort of woke up and found the food bubble. Found an empty bottle to piss in. Slept . . .

  Bonus Scene

  It was dark by the time Rael pulled into her garage.

  A week of debriefings, mainly because everyone's nervy and . . . not panicked. Really. And a meeting tomorrow, with Disco sending someone to sit in on it.

  She turned off the car. Climbed out stretching.

  Another exciting night, alone in the house that Xen built. I always feel safe here, but nothing stops the loneliness . . . she opened the door to the entry . . . except the smell of roses.

  She set her briefcase down quietly and walked into the living room. Dimly lit by the city sky glow coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows and glass doors to the patio.

  The roses in the vase barely showed a tint of red. But she didn't need her eyes to recognize the long form on the couch.

  "Hey you. I wasn't even sure I'd see you at the meeting tomorrow."

  Dim light flashed off his teeth in a quick grin. He swung his legs off the couch and sat up.

  "Umm, well since I needed to be here . . . " He broke off and looked away. Looked back. "Actually I was missing you, and the meeting was, well, a really handy excuse."

  She tried to read his body language in the dim light. "Are you sure it's not a driving need to pull weeds?"

  He laughed. "Took care of that an hour ago."

  "We've truly messed ourselves up, haven't we?"

  "Not a politically wise relationship, and one that . . . "

  Can't ever involve marriage and children. Rael mentally stomped that thought. "Then come to bed, you dangerous and powerful foreign wizard. I have a lot of built up frustration from this professional relationship nonsense I need to work off."

  "Think you're going to make it as far as the bed, unravished?" He was off the couch and towering over her.

  Rael giggled.

  "That giggle's an unfair tactic." He leaned to kiss her, leaned further to grab and hoist her over his shoulder. "You win, off to bed."

  She tried to giggle, but her diaphragm wasn't cooperating. Damned oversized . . . then she was being deposited on the bed and Xen knelt on the floor beside her.

  "So, my Beautiful Enemy Agent, may I make mad passionate love to you?"

  "Yes."

  An Excerpt From Black Point Clan

  Chapter One

  2 Shawwal 1407 yp

  Limbo Colony, Empire of the One

  Ajha Clostuone Abadan Black Point resisted the impulse the drop his comm and stomp on it. "For politics? Don't scare me like that. I thought something happened to my mother! What do you mean I have to go home for an Enclave level vote? I don't really care who . . . "

  His uncle—and boss, Ajki was the Director of External Relations—talked over his protests.

  "Father? Father wants to be the Patriarch of Black Point Clan? That's . . . " Ajha shut his mouth. Political games! What the One Hell is Father up to . . . "I'll be there."

  He looked around Limbo. A beautiful broad valley, rolli
ng green hills, fields of brown stubble of their first wheat harvest. The blue of the sky echoed in the broad lake.

  Home to almost all of the people who merged with Helaos.

  It had started as a halfway camp, to be sure the Oner personality was dominating, to deal with unwanted physical manifestations before the merge victims of the Helios went home. . . They'd realized early that it was going to have to be a permanent home for many.

  Because the soldiers were considered untrustworthy, and the women—college students for the most part—were definitely not hot marriage prospects anymore, given possible genetic alterations. Employment uncertain. Not welcomed home, the neighbors rejecting the changes in them, and sometimes families, both parents and spouses, as well.

  Mostly Oners, but a few of the Merged were from another earth, one raided by the Helaos for merge victims, or just for women. They felt at home here, where everyone understood viscerally what had happened.

  Some families had joined the merged here, more might come once they'd finished building the basic amenities of a modern civilization here. They'd finally formed a real government, where before they'd just taken orders from him and his team. He'd sent most of his people off to new assignments—well, three had retired here—and Fean was starting Grad School.

  "And now I have to leave? One! I hope this is quick. I'd really prefer a proper wrap up. Sit around bored while the civvie government takes over everything." He looked around and spotted the man he needed. "Ebsa? Congratulations. You are about to get some valuable leadership experience . . ."

  ***

  Six months in, Xiat Withione Abadan Black Point was wondering why she'd left Criminal Investigations for Analysis. A couple of years at CI had broadened her experience, but returning to what she was better at had seemed like a good idea.

  Until Izzo had been promoted to Subdirector of Analytics.

  A strictly professional relation had suddenly become necessary . . . and difficult.

  And now her former lover and current boss was worried about this Patriarchal convention. Too many pre-cogs, too many dreams about it. Nothing clear or definite. "He's starting his move" and "the next one" seemed to be the limit of the hard information. Who was moving on what, and whether the 'what' was the same as the 'next one' was typically clouded and uncertain.

  Two years until the insanity of a presidential election, but it could be early maneuvers with that as the goal. Or something entirely unrelated.

  The Director of Internal Relations had more than once threatened to just shut down the Pre-Cognition and Divination Lab.

  Both Director Efge and Subdirector Izzo had spoken to her before her departure.

  "Two of the three most powerful men in the War Party are Black Point Clan." The Director was the third, of course. "They're using the Patriarchal race as a proxy battle for control of the Party. Beware dirty tricks." His fingers drummed on the table and his eyes were narrowed, thinking of something he wasn't saying.

  How to use this to his own political advantage.

  "And violence." Subdirector Izzo had smiled ruefully. "Watch out for Bully Boys on each side. And don't enjoy yourself too much beating them up, if the opportunity arises."

  Efge had shaken his head. "If you kill any of them, try to make it look like an accident. If they don't know your training and affiliation, all the better. I'd as soon be invisible in this, however much I'd love to see both Arlw and Axti defeated."

  Speaking of presidential aspirations. Surely Efge wasn't planning to run . . . this time. Popular presidents tend to stay in office for twenty years. Four terms. President Orde will probably not run in 1415. I'll bet that's what Efge's aiming for.

  But if either Arlw or Axti run and actually defeat Orde in 1410 . . . Efge could kiss a presidential run goodbye for another twenty years.

  "Right. I'll see what I can do." Xiat left Efge's office with Izzo.

  And since Izzo was her boss, he hadn't kissed her good bye.

  Dammit.

  I should transfer back into Investigations. Or the Presidential Directorate. This professionalism is . . . frustrating.

  ***

  Two corridors and a train ride later, Xiat eyed the "reception committee" at the Black Point Station. Young men and old. Only about half the number she'd been expecting.

  About five of them spoke at once, a babble of obscene suggestions. One leering face, unfortunately familiar. Equally familiar, penetrating voice. "Hey, Xiat, need a place to stay?"

  "One! Ewmo, what are you doing here begging for sex?

  "I'm not begging. I'm offering hospitality."

  "He's worthless, take me instead!" She didn't know that one, but he grabbed her arm, and that was something she was not prepared to allow. A simple hip throw dropped him flat on the platform. She snapped her mental shields down a quarter, and power-punched to his solarplexis. Nothing like a bit of magically enhanced brute force.

  Gaping for air, he still reached for the magic. He waved his right hand uselessly. Even at three-quarters shield, she easily bounced his attempt at a simple stun spell. She walked past, stomping the hand that tried for a grab. She kept the contact light, no need to break anything. At least perverts weren't as pervasive as they used to be. If the town hadn't been crowded, the Clan called in for the vote, there probably wouldn't have been a single one on the platform. She kept the stranger in the corner of her eye and saw him stagger to his feet. He headed the other direction. Good.

  Ewmo was still following. Bad.

  "Hey, Xiat. Haven't seen you since we graduated. Hey, I've got a position in the Commerce and Trade Department now, apartment in Paris."

  "Get lost Ewmo. I have my own apartment in Paris, and no lack of company much higher than you."

  "Hey, I stayed in quarantine, kept all my prophets' genes. I could probably get you pregnant, now."

  Xiat made a rude gesture. She was not looking forward to this homecoming. Mainly because of idiots like this one. But this was business, not pleasure.

  And if Ewmo tried to kiss her, she would kill him. The engineered plague that had removed three pairs of genes from the One had received a very mixed reaction. The genes had affected aggression, especially the identification of the proper targets for aggression. With their removal, rapes had plummeted. Scenes like this one on the rail platform had disappeared except in a few high population areas. Not even a magical plague could infect everyone. But even if some of the effects were welcome, it was still an attack on the One, and struck at the very definition of the One. Which was one reason this election was so important.

  If they would just approve the genetic engineering to replace those genes . . . we could have increased rape statistics instead of a war. Or, given our feelings of outrage and vulnerability, both rape and war. One save me!

  She towed her luggage down the ramp, and caught the tram up the very aptly named Hill Street.

  "I take it you have a place to stay?"

  She sighed loudly. Cranked her shields almost closed. Aura and sex appeal being close to the same thing, maybe she'd show the absolute minimum polite amount all week long. Save herself a world of trouble. Maybe. "I'm staying at Aunt Kiaj's."

  "Oh yeah, Aunt Kiaj's has got her old buddies back, hasn't she? And Poppy and Phoebe are their kids and I'll bet they invited the rest. All the old Cheer Squad back together, eh?"

  Ewmo was not actually stupid.

  "Yeah. All us girls, back together again."

  They were all of the One, with all that implied in magical abilities, long life, excellent health, miserably low fertility.

  "Well, I'll see you around." Ewmo dropped off at Spinnaker Lane.

  The tram labored up the steep hill past Jib and then Topgallant, where she dropped off. She pulled her luggage four houses down the street—the lots were large, with lots of privacy afforded by the coastal redwoods growing thickly between homes. There were no fences, just a few enclosed patios.

  The houses all had security systems hooked to their computers. She tapp
ed the control on her bracer to turn her implants on. They identified her to the house computer as soon as she turned up the sidewalk toward the building. Women burst from the house. "Xiat! Yay! Now we're all here!" A mixed up chorus from five women. Ten years since she'd seen most of them. Fifty plus years since they'd all palled around. If she hadn't known better she'd have guessed them all still in their early twenties. Bless those artificial genes. She herself had every single one of them, and investigating undercover she'd been known to pass herself off as eighteen.

  Judging from the squeals, the other women were going to be acting like they were still eighteen.

  Chapter Two

  6 Shawwal 1407 yp

  Black Point Enclave, West Coast division, North American region

  "Relax, Boss, we've got this."

  Ajha sighed as Hob drove the ute through the first gate. A dimensional phenomenon that shifted them to a parallel world with a faint twinge of the innards and twist of reality.

  This one took them to a desert world, nothing here but a wide arc of gates and a small guard contingent. Paranoia. Aimed the right direction, for a change, even if it would be just a minor speed bump to a serious invasion. The guards might manage to send the alarm and trigger the crash gates to give us a little time.

  Gates to the One World, Embassy—the Empty World that was used as a diplomatic meeting place—and three other potential colony worlds, none of them currently being developed.

  The bored fellow on duty waved them onward. Ajha was well known to everyone who'd spent any time in the field. Hob looped around and took aim at the gate to Gate City on the One World.

  The flat, open, gate field was warm in the winter sun. Far enough south for beautiful days like this in the middle of winter. Familiar territory, his home base for . . . Forty-five years? The largest part of the Directorate of External Relations was here in the city, and still a small part of the sprawling metropolis. They fought their way through traffic to the corridor to the west coast.