Olympian (Wine of the Gods Book 25)

  Olympian

  Pam Uphoff

  Copyright © 2016 Pamela Uphoff

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN

  978-1-939746-17-7

  This is a work of fiction.

  All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional.

  Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Cedar Sanderson

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Excerpt from an upcoming release

  About the Author

  Other Books by Pam Uphoff

  Chapter One

  15 Jumada 1398

  Paris, One World

  Paer caught sight of the thin redhead and leaped to hug her.

  "You look great!" And blushed and turned back into an awkward sixteen year old. "It's so good to see you on your feet. Everyone's excited to have you back."

  Rael just giggled. "And I think you grew at least two inches since I last saw you." She reached out and shook the president's hand. The security detail, alert despite the grins half of them were sporting, chivvied them all away and into limos.

  Six of them died in the assassination attempt, saving dad's life. My life. Twice that number were badly injured. Two retired with disabilities. Four took less physically demanding positions in the Directorates. Now with Rael back, that makes six who have returned to duty.

  Paer eyed Rael's controlled movements.

  Sort of.

  ***

  "So." Major Eppa looked her up and down. "Your physical condition?"

  Technically, Eppa, and all the Black Horse Guard, were Army. But they were assigned to Presidential Security. And so her physical condition was his business.

  Princess Feol—Fool when she wasn't on duty—was the head of the female security agents in the Presidential Directorate. So again, someone with the right to look her over like a substandard recruit.

  But why do I have to say this in front of dozens of people? A few of them had grabbed her luggage and taken it away, but the rest were just . . . happy to see me.

  "My flexibility is good, strength and endurance still need work. The main problem is nerve damage. I have limited response and feedback from the three outside fingers of my right hand and some restriction of movement. Numb areas on both legs and feet, worse on the right. I don't think I'll ever be sharp enough to be a close-in body guard. I hate to say it, but if Urfa didn't want me as an analyst, I'd have to retire from the directorate."

  Feol nodded. "So he said. None-the-less, we've stuck you back in the Princess wing." Her face split into a grin. "Welcome home, Rael."

  Eppa snorted. "And Urfa sent a chip about five hours ago. He said you should look it over. Exterior will be reporting to him tomorrow morning, and he wants you there."

  Rael grinned. "Oh good. I had a horrible feeling I might wind up twiddling my thumbs."

  A younger man elbowed through the bystanders. Idlo Withione, one of Urfa's in-group. "Not a chance. There's a whole lot of background information he'll want your opinion on. It's all in your office, in the mansion. The new chip is in your room here." The man's eyes crinkled, probably at her expression.

  "My office?"

  "Yeah. You've come up the world. We thought about letting you skip standing watch, but we worried about your ego getting a bit too inflated, so we stuck you in the rotation."

  "So kind of you to think of me."

  And they had. They threw a One damned fine party. She even danced, once she was drunk enough.

  She was finally allowed to find her new room and collapsed in front of the desk. In the middle of the bare desktop, a solitary computer chip, stuck to a note. The boxes she'd sent from home last week were lined up along the wall. She leaned back, grabbed the arm of the chair to avoid falling out of it.

  "Good hootch. What'cha gotta say, boss?" She reached out a finger and pulled the note closer.

  What with Earther anti-electronics, we can't have the recorders send signals very often, and have to use reduced power. So the info team on Target 42 collects a compressed download once every six months, from the nearest public road, hand carries it to the gate, which is at least a two week journey, and then they wait for the monthly gate . . . So this is infuriatingly out of date. Recorded almost eight months ago. Agni sent me the raw feed three days ago, his analysts will be reporting in the morning. Government House, main conference room. Be there.

  She groaned and staggered over to find the box that had her computer. Government issue with massive security.

  Enjoy the buzz while you can. You're going to have to sober up in about ten minutes. Then you can try analysis while hung over. But she put in the chip while she finished organizing her desk.

  It opened to a scene . . . the inset in the vid labeled it Target Forty-two, Amma's Palace, Fascia. And the date . . .

  "Seven months ago. I wonder how long it took to get this back to us?" Rael propped her chin on her hands and settled down to watch.

  A large octagonal room, marble floors, geometric designs on the plastered walls. people coming and going. A majority in uniform. The constant buzz of a dozen conversations ebbed and rose. Judging from the angle, the camera doing the recording must be about four meters above the floor. Some sort of throne, unoccupied, a cluster of officers standing in front of it, talking . . .

  A burning point of white in mid air. The soldiers reacted immediately, weapons appearing in hands, being unslung from shoulders, quick and practiced.

  The light expanded into a bubble, the color deepening through yellow to orange, opacity giving way to translucence and thinning down to nothing. Leaving a man standing alone in the center of the room.

  Or maybe an elf or dwarf or something. His proportions were odd, the legs short, the arms long, the ears pointed. Darkish, reddish complexion. He was facing three quarters away from her, so she could see his right ear quite well.

  He held his left arm crooked in front of him, his forearm covered by a bulky bracer encompassing a screen and controls. His right hand was tapping at the bracer as the bubble disappeared altogether.

  The guards overreacted and both lasers and conventional guns fired. The lasers stopped cold, the bullets bounced off. Roughly from the last position of the bubble.

  Physical and energy shields. Standing well out from his body. Magic or tech? Rael eyed the Elf's thick bracer, half hidden behind his body, and further obscured by the elf's hand. Leather with electronics. Interesting combination. Odd.

  The elf dropped his arms and gazed about the room, apparently oblivious to the bullets bouncing off his force field.

  "Arrogant and amused, reminds me of Endi . . . Xen damn it." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Who I'm sure doesn't have pointy ears."

  She didn't have a good angle to see the elf's face. But clearly not Endi. Xen, dammit! Except . . . the tilt of the head, the barely seen dimple past the pointy ear . . .

  "Hold your fire."

  The soldiers stopped firing, and a couple of officers stepped forward.

  The Elf held out what looked like a roll of paper.

  "I am
Xeno Time of the Department of Interdimensional Security and Cooperation. Having recently been informed of cross-dimensional hostilities in this branch of the Multiverse, I have been assigned to act as Ambassador External to attempt to peacefully resolve the conflict between the multi-dimensional membrane known generally as 'Earth' and the multi-dimensional membrane here-after referred to as 'Comet Fall' in which we are currently located. Do you have any questions, at this point?" He looked around and finished with a steady stare at the officer who looked to be in charge.

  "Department of what?"

  "Interdimensional Security and Cooperation. Disco, for short. Our motto is 'Make Trade not War' and we take it to heart. You lot are trouble makers. It's got to stop."

  A woman in uniform eased up beside the officer. Her voice was low, but in the silence of the room, the vid picked it up. "He's speaking twenty-first century English, American variant."

  The officer nodded, his attention still on the Elf. "We don't acknowledge your legitimacy in this matter. Go speak to the World Council, if you want to play at inter-dimensional diplomacy."

  The Elf gave an obvious sigh. Head slightly tilted, one shoulder a hair higher than the other, in a gesture too subtle to call a shrug.

  One damn it all, that is him!

  "If you attack across the dimensions, we will stop you. If you still recall the Geneva Conventions, we follow something close enough for practical purposes." He looked back at his fancy scroll. "I won't bore you with reading the whole thing. You can peruse it later, when you have the time. Basically, you attack this world, we will retaliate on yours."

  The officer crossed his arms, looking belligerent. "I suppose you are what we call 'elves.' We know the general locus of the elf worlds. So I suggest you retract your threats."

  "Oh? So now you are threatening to attack other worlds at random, hoping to make us . . . what? Surrender to brutal murderers? Run and hide under our beds and hope you can't find us?" The Elf looked him up and down. "When I say 'we,' I am referring to an organization, not a world. Disco's staff includes a number of species, including some humans. Your civilization is on the brink of being sufficiently advanced technologically to be considered for membership in the Concord. But that will never happen if you continue to attack other worlds, continue to exploit and kill other people."

  "The Natives here have some odd gates." The officer circled the shield. "Are they yours?"

  "Oh no. Although they are step in the right direction. But they're just as random as yours. And they don't know how to close them. Terribly amusing. Fortunately they had the sense to stop before they found a dinosaur world." The Elf frowned. "We ought to have moved in centuries ago. Stopped both Earth and the Empire of the One when they first attacked another world."

  "You know about the Oners? Why don't you stop them?"

  "We are in the process of doing that."

  Oh? Rael eyed the Elf. Is that what Xen was doing here?

  "They stole one of our colony worlds."

  "No they didn't. They, and then you, colonized a world without regard to the intelligent species extant. Then you fought each other for it, with 'possession' switching back and forth. Gate anchors and beacons destroyed, rediscovery, reconquest. Ridiculous. A cease fire and then removal of both colonies is in order."

  Oooo! That's not going to go down well on this side either!

  The officer glared. "That is our world, and so is this one. And you had better not get in the way."

  "Your ambassador to the Kingdom of the West was a bit pushy. What he said could easily be interpreted as a declaration of war. Perhaps I had better read this, after all." The Elf unrolled the scroll a bit.

  "In accordance with the laws of warfare that were commonly agreed upon when the ancestors of the current population were exiled from Earth approximately fourteen hundred years ago, both sides agree to not deliberately target civilians. If weapons and forces are concealed among civilians, they are nonetheless still legitimate targets, and the civilian casualties, while regrettable, will be the fault of the side using civilians as shields.

  "Uniformed soldiers who surrender will be considered Prisoners of War. Prisoners of War are to be treated decently, no torturing, maiming, killing, starving or raping them.

  "All means of transport, industrial plants, power facilities, government buildings and military depots are legitimate targets. All military personnel and civilian contractors are legitimate targets. All weapons and weapon systems are legitimate targets.

  "If the invading force—that would be you—wishes to withdraw peacefully from this world at any point, a white flag on all battlefields will begin a ceasefire under which the invaders will be allowed to do so, and when the process is nearly finished an exchange of Prisoners of War can be negotiated, returning alive all military and civilian prisoners held by either side, here or on any other world."

  The Elf lowered the scroll. "Do you have any comments or questions?"

  "What the bloody fuck do you Disco Elves think you can do against us?"

  Rael slapped the stop button. Failed to choke back a snicker. Laughter bubbled out. She put her head down on the desk and howled. "Oh One! Disco Elves. Ow, my head, ow, my head!"

  Several advanced worlds the One had explored had had a music and dance fad called disco. Very . . . sappy and glittery. It had leaked out and been popular here for a thankfully brief period. Thank the One we study advanced cultures, and don't annex them! All we'd need would be waves of appalling fads. And from the tone of voice, that Earth is also one that suffered through disco.

  Disco Elves!

  Rael clamped down on the giggles and rubbed her forehead. Hangover coming soon. She sat up and hit the play button.

  "We're not actually sure. We haven't had a battle with you. But the Kingdom gave us enough data for us to think about and get inventive. I suspect it's going to fun. For us."

  "What is your name?"

  "I am Xeno Time. I suppose, if you want to consider me military, I could be addressed as Captain Time. However, being on a diplomatic mission, I think Ambassador Time would be more fitting."

  Xeno Time? Xeno? Xen?

  "Well, Captain Time, we have received our orders and we are in a state of war with the Kingdom of the West. If you interfere, we can easily add you to the list."

  The officer walked around poking at the force field. The Elf didn't watch him, but rather studied the other people in the room. He focused on the other officers. Then the closer troops.

  "Are you certain? There was waffle room in the ambassador's message. We can still try to settle matters peacefully."

  "If that Native king had capitulated, and handed over their gate making equipment, it could have been settled peacefully. Now we're going to take what we want."

  "Clearly you have no compunction about killing the local humans. But what of your own people? Will you not consider their wellbeing?"

  "This is the military. We live to fight. You think their bows and arrows can scratch our tanks?"

  "Why would they use bows and arrows?" Xeno Time shook his head. "So. Let the hostilities commence." He stood silently. Staring at the Earther.

  The Earth officer stared back.

  The building trembled faintly.

  The Elf tapped at his bracer for a moment. Nodded. "That appears to have done the trick. If you would like to withdraw through the gate, I will ask for a cease fire."

  The soldier near the officer put a hand to his ear bug. "There's been an attack on the missiles and launchers, sir." He held out a small device, probably showing a picture, from the way the officer stared at it.

  "General Soeder?" Another officer spoke up. "May I recommend that we consult with Earth before we escalate? They may wish to reconsider their approach."

  Glare. "The gate will open . . . soon. Then we'll pass these 'Rules of War' to them, inform them of this Disco and the Elf, and no doubt finally get some decent equipment."

  The Elf hefted the scroll, shrugged and tossed it to the side. "P
lease do moderate your behavior, here. As the commander of a hostile force on an alien world, you will, personally, be held accountable for what happens here. And yes, I will also be talking to your World Council." He tapped at his bracer. The orangish transparent bubble reappeared, shrank and brightened, disappeared. The scroll was on the floor, the Elf was gone.

  The general gestured for his officers. "I need to get down to the Fort. If he reappears, record everything he says while I'm on my way. And watch the Natives, for Christ sake. They must have local help, to tell them about the caves we built the missile site upon." He turned and started across the floor

  "Caves? There aren't any caves around here." The cautious officer followed him.

  "Oh yes there are. And they just collapsed them under our missile facility. Go ask the Natives about them. Forcefully."

  Another man trotted up. "Sir, we've lost all three satellites. The tech say the sats won't talk back to them, which ought to only happen when they are closed down for recalibration."

  "I see that they didn't believe the Ambassador about . . . " The voices faded as they turned to walk down the hall.

  Rael reached and froze the picture. "Hot damn. Things are going to get really interesting . . . Crap. This happened over seven months ago? Damn, damn, damn. I wonder what's happening right now?"

  She stared at the screen rubbing her temples . . . There was an odd patch, like a heat distortion, against the geometric fresco on the wall by the hallway. Or more likely a problem with the signal compression . . . But why is it shaped like a person?

  She tapped the controls, backing up the vid to get a good look at the Elf . . . The distortion was gone. She played it forward, slowly. The Elf disappeared in a showy bubble. The distortion appeared. And seemed to follow the officers out of sight.