by Pam Uphoff
Jim left them to it and drove into the little town of Slow Springs. Jack Devlin was due to come on shift in an hour, so Jim followed his nose to a diner for breakfast. He took a window booth and ate slowly, over a paper, reading all the 'public interest' background they put into the Animal Gang stories. What would the CAT scans show?
He was glad to see that the papers hadn't gotten the word about Bellemiso. He thought about what he'd heard about Bellemiso's operations in South America. Not that he'd ever studied them, being an internal agent. He'd bet there was a real scramble going on in the International Division.
The door closed on Devlin's heels and he took a look around the diner before sitting opposite Jim. "Anything new?"
Jim brought up his email and opened a new one from Marge.
First CAT scan on Rior/Chip erased the illusion or whatever. It's Chip, and not Rior. Simple X-rays on the others had the same effect.
Devlin blinked. He looked up and smiled as the waitress deposited food and coffee in front of him. "We've dropped the ball on the Ione family. They decided to go home, and just went. I asked the local police to check that they turn up where they said they lived."
"Oh, hell. The father recognized Rior. We' better find them quickly."
Jim reached for his phone as it chirped.
The Regional director informed them that the entire case had been taken out of their hands. "That doorway into the past has suddenly gotten this whole thing classified."
Jim saved his curses for later, and asked if the CIA was going to let them have any part in it at all.
"Only as witnesses. And it's Military Intel, actually. I think a whole platoon has just arrived. Come down to the lodge, you and your people can wrap up your reports and hand it off. I can't even congratulate you on arresting the Animal Gang, Inspector, in view of the confusion of identity."
"I . . . have a hard time understanding what happened to them, to their faces, but the fingerprints match the security scans of the physicists and their wives. No doubt MI will be glad to have the physicists. Good day, sir."
Devlin commiserated, to a degree. "I can't finish my part and fly back home. I'll be dealing with this as long as that doorway is there."
Jim got his car, and hesitated. First stop, the grocery store. He got a selection of edibles for the car, not trusting the lodge to feed him. And a fourpack of red wine splits.
What had been in that wine? Eldon had used it to seduce women, and also to heal the two kids' broken bones. That bit left in the bottom of the glass had been diluted a second time, and still . . . He felt his face flush. All it did was get over my last reticence. He poured some back and forth between the wine glass dregs and the four bottles, and stuck three of the four under the seat. Second stop, the hospital.
Harwin was trying to be cheerful. The wine cheered him up no end. "I don't really care about the toes, but the fingers, thank god they're looking better. Damnit, I'm an expert! But I got that report out, got people ready to move in . . . I thought I could get back, let you know what was being prepared, so I pushed it. I knew I was being stupid . . . "
Stupid of me to think a split of wine will help. It not magic. Jim was a bit depressed when he drove back to the lodge.
Such as it was. More of an army camp now. His name gained him entry and specific directions. He spent hours going over every damned detail every word and glance from Animals, Physicists and Bellemiso. Then he read over a typed copy, initialing each page and signing the end.
The man in charge gathered the agents up and looked them over. "As you've already been told, you will not speak of anything that happened here. You came to check on the stolen money. You were snowed in for a few days. You arrested some suspects, but checking show they couldn't have been the Gang. You flew back home. Period."
They all nodded.
Jim eyed the officer. "We've recovered a fair chunk of the money. Can we announce that, and perhaps say the Gang members scooted out of here leaving these people holding the bag?"
"Yes. That will account for everything."
"In the movies, this is the point in which the Secret Government Organization tells us they know all about it. And tells the heroes what that doorway to dino-land is."
The Captain snorted. "Unfortunately we seem to be getting in on the ground floor and may even have the privilege of building our own Secret Government Organization from scratch."
"Good luck, and much boredom in the future." Jim led his group away.
"We can't just go home and pretend nothing happened!" Andy protested.
Char giggled. "Of course not. Goodness, the romance in the mountains. We'll tell them all about Jim and Martha."
"And no paperwork, no wrangling with lawyers and state jurisdictions." Norm perked up.
Dirk glared at them all. "You're going to go along with it?"
Jim nodded. "Yep. I have a suspicion that the Animals will never be seen again and ditto Bellemiso. Whatever that secret weapon is, the Animal Gang drove off to another world taking the only working models with them. Now, I do believe I have a wedding to plan." He took Martha's elbow and steered her toward the latest rental car. "You guys can drive the other cars, right?"
Excerpt from an upcoming book
Trouble in Paradise
The Directorate—Book Three
Pam Uphoff
Chapter One
Monday 29 Shaban 1403
". . . pre-nuclear war seed bank. The geneticists were at wit's end, wondering how to catalog the mess. Thank something I'd had one Info handling class. It was actually fun, setting up the system, but no way would I want it as a career. Boring, once I got it set up." Ebsa glanced at the Counselor's office door. Still closeted with another student. "I thought I'd be late. Ha! I ought to have stopped by the dorm and dropped my luggage."
R'ad kicked his own luggage. He'd been exiting the Counselor's office as Ebsa rushed into the waiting room. "I spent six weeks analyzing Oner baby registration patterns. Boring as hell, until the patterns started showing up. Not to mention the party at Government House, where Izzo dropped an information bomb in the lap of the Prime Councilor. Glorious. But! The best part of the internship was all my extended family having gone on vacation. I stayed with Rael—you have got to see her house!"
"Really? The one they say Xen Wolfson fixed up with magic? Umm, probably be bad for my ego. So, can you talk about this information bomb?"
"Umm, it'll go public eventually. Fairly soon, in fact. Basically, all those stupid tabloid stories about the lack of Withione babies? True. Neartuones, as well. And when they retest the parents? Not Withiones. Not Neartuones. But! It's just the rape genes that are missing. None of them, parents or babies, have any of them. The problem was first seen in Alcairo, then other places, both cities and enclaves. The dates when the Withione results of testing fell off the cliff progressed from place to place, spreading like an epidemic. By mid summer it was pretty well everywhere. Izzo spent a day closeted with the President and Urfa. The Prime Councilor refused to come to the meeting. 'Too busy, drop by I have an open hour in two weeks . . . ' Then he attended the party. The bomb? The progression of places is the same, delayed a week or so, as the sightings of the Comet Fall God of Just Deserts in each place." R'ad sat back. "They've retaliated for that last raid with genetic sabotage."
Ebsa boggled, gulped. "They can't have . . . Genetic engineering to remove Oner genes? We'll go to war over that! That's . . . Are you sure?"
"Yep. Izzo has a small field analyzer. A bunch of us tested ourselves. Remember how that twist of mine went away? That was it. Mind you, it's not official, but I'm now a 210 Clostuone, and I'll never have those horrible dreams and urges again." A razor sharp grin of genuine glee.
"Holy . . . What about the One?" Ebsa sat back, and eyed his friend.
"Izzo is probably arriving there right about now. Should be . . . interesting." Ra'd's grin widened. "And don't be so sure about that war. The Multitude, the Halfers, the Servaones, the Clostuones? I think they
will, by and large, be delighted by the downfall of the snobbish less than one percent of the population who might get reranked.
"But a lot of Clostuones and Servaones will lose up to six genes of their total count."
"But they won't slip in rankings. Clostuones are defined as anyone without a single complete set of the genes, but with six or more insertions. You, for instance, won't lose an entire insertion, so your rank won't change. How many of those genes do you have? Or more probably, used to have." That grin again. "I will lose rank, but it's worth every minute of peaceful slumber, every time I sigh in exasperation, instead of fighting down a desire to hit someone. And how many other Withiones and Neartuones feel the same way?"
"I . . . huh. I don't know." Ebsa scrambled his brains together as the door to the counselor's office opened. An irritated student exited reading his screen.
Ebsa reached for his luggage and Ra'd waved him off. "I'll wait out here for you."
***
"Well, if we aren't at war within days, I'll be taking so many classes I won't have time to read the news and find out what comes of your information bomb. Unless, of course, Mr. High-and-Mighty Counselor changes what we'd agreed on . . . Ah, they just posted. History 200. Ugg. Sociology 100. Eh. Information 400? Yes! Yuri comes through! I got credit for the internship! Advanced Techniques of Magic. Yes! Team Equipment 400. Yes! Introduction to Project Management. Ooo, I thought the counselor was going to spit when I requested that one. Zoology across dimensions. Current Events Seminar, thank the One, just once a week, Wednesday nights. Martial Arts section B? I think I've been demoted. Firearms Practicum 3. Isn't that what I had all last year?" Ebsa lengthened his stride. Fourteen hours on the plane, and then waiting for his scheduled appointment with the counselor. Still had his fortunately small amount of luggage with him. Was not going to be late for dinner. He was starving.
Ra'd snorted. "That's how many times a week you are required to spend an hour at the range. I've got one. And Martial Arts, Advanced. They're splitting us up."
"Well, I do need more training in techniques . . . they haven't given up on you for Action Teams, have they?"
"That's what I'm afraid of. I will not merge with those twisted brutes."
Ebsa paused. "I wonder if they got dosed with whatever, however it was administered? Perhaps you should check them out, and find the ones you consider tolerable. You only have to eke out a passing grade for two more semesters."
Snort. Ra'd lifted a dismissive shoulder and looked at his minicomp. "I've got Magic, History, and Current Events with you. Then I've got Statistics and Comparative Cultures. Military Science 100, whether I want it or not." Ra'd raised his head from the list and frowned at the men casually lounging around the entrance to dorm seven.
Ebsa sighed. "Do we have to do this every year?" He made it loud enough to be heard by the loungers.
The four men stopped pretending to lounge and loomed. Not as well as they had last year. I've grown, in more ways than one.
Ebsa tried for casual. "Ed, Oh Hey. Yuck, Idjit . . . Don't tell me something happened to Ogly? And . . . who else is missing? No, wait, Ogly and Mac actually managed to graduate, didn't they."
Four glowers. "You got Wedge and City arrested. They were expelled when they were found guilty of filing a false police report." Oh Hey stepped closer. "And no one knows what the hell happened to Blob and Ape. No one will tell us anything. Not to mention Edge . . . dying. Accidentally. Five of the top Action Team Trainees. Gone."
"Leaving, what, seven seniors? That'll be a lot less competition for the across slots, eh?" Ebsa set down his suitcase, shrugged off his pack and shoved his comp into the side pocket. As this will inevitably come down to a fight.
Ed looked baffled. "Seven? You aren't any competition. Wqlw Ra'd is in . . . wait you're counting those women?"
Yuck growled and stepped forward. "Are you claiming that those cunts are real contenders for Action Team slots? Are you comparing us to women?"
Ra'd failed to resist. "You aren't women?"
Four to two. Hardly fair. They had the idiots on the ground in seconds.
Ra'd grinned at Ebsa. "Now that we've got them, what shall we do with them?"
Ebsa looked from Yuck, flat on his face with his arm twisted up behind his back, to Ed, on his knees attempting to wiggle in a way that wouldn't involve Ebsa breaking the pinky finger he was holding. "Well, I don't actually want them, so maybe we should just let them go."
Ra'd sighed loudly. "You never let me have any fun." He stood up and walked back to his luggage. Ebsa released his pair and stepped over to grab his stuff, walked back through the quartet of idiots groaning their way to their feet, and not looming. Nor interfering in any way.
"Poor things." Ebsa grinned at Ra'd. "They're used to having Edge, with his Speed, to take the lead."
"And six more idiots to help them bully other students." Ra'd shrugged. "It's just as well I decided to hit the counselor before I headed for the dorm. I might have had to hurt one of them, if I was alone."
"I wonder if they've dropped a few genes? Life could get interesting once the news is released."
"Huh. They don't act any less belligerent." Ra'd's door lock clicked as it received the signal from his ID.
"Well, they've trained themselves to be that way. At this point they hardly need help from their genes." Ebsa walked on, heard his own lock click two doors down.
"That's a depressing thought."
They'd both taken everything they owned with them, so the bare rooms were untouched. The Directorate School frowned on University property being damaged, but it actually surprised Ebsa a bit that there wasn't even a slash in the mattress. A tap on the door.
Ra'd stepped in and waved a hand at the bed. A glint of power, a wave of a spell. "Bed bugs."
Ebsa sighed. "And I thought they'd showed restraint. Rather subtle of them, actually. I wonder whose idea it was?"
"A new mastermind? Them? More likely they saw it in a movie." Ra'd shook his head and walked out.
***
And the next day the senior ranking match. 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 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.
What I'm Reading . . .
So, I'm burned out on editing and have reached for an old favorite. Something funny. ConVent by Kate Paulk is technically an Urban Fantasy. Vampires and werewolves, after all. But this old vampire and his young werewolf sidekick are science fiction fans attending a science fiction convention. They weren't expecting a virgin sacrifice . . .
Not into vampires? How about a cat that gets turned into a boy? And heaven help the magician who thought a feral tomcat wo
uld make a useful servant . . . Tom, by Dave Freer.
Not in the mood for funny? Hmm, you like my stuff, so maybe you should give L. Shelby a look. Cantata in Coral and Ivory. A delightful . . . fantasy? Tale? Romance? Loved it, and the sequels.
Need a Space Opera? Sarah Hoyt's Darkship Thieves. Not your ordinary SF future. At. All.
Mil SF? Sam Schall's Vengeance from Ashes. It's next on my To Be Read stack.
More of my stuff? Not to worry, I'm still writing.
About the Author
I was born and raised in California, and have lived more than half my life, now, in Texas.
Wonderful place. I caught almost the first bachelor I met here, and we’re coming up on our thirty-seventh anniversary.
My degree's in Geology. After working for an oil company for almost ten years as a geophysicist, I “retired” to raise children. As they grew, I added oil painting, sculpting and throwing clay, breeding horses, volunteering in libraries and for the Boy Scouts, and treasurer for a friend’s political campaign. Sometime in those busy years, I turned a love of science fiction into a part time job reading slush (Mom? Someone is paying you to read??!!)
I've always written, published a few short stories. But now that the kids have flown the nest, I'm calling writing a full time job.
Directorate School was my seventeenth novel, and first in a spin-off series. I've also issued four collections of novellas and short stories, and published other short stories separately.
