satellite—yet—but it was much further advanced than the Earth I came from.
Once the exams were done—and, no, we never got to know the results, which to this day still hacks me off—wewere called into the briefing room, all one hundred and ten of us juniors, and I got to see the Old Man for the first time since I took the oath in the infirmary.
He looked older.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” he said to us. “You are now all ready to begin to take part in the great struggle.
“New worlds are always being created. Some are worlds in which science holds sway”—I saw J/O hold his head up proudly—“others are worlds in which magic is the motive power. Most worlds are mixtures of the two. We of InterWorld have no problem with either ideology. Our problem is with HEX and with the Binary, who both seek to impose their belief systems and methods of reality on other worlds—sometimes through war, sometimes more subtly.
“InterWorld exists to maintain the balance. We are a guerrilla group, outnumbered and outgunned in every way. We could never directly confront either side, for we can never win. Nor do we want to win. But we can be the sugar in the gas tank, the chewing gum on the seat and the nail for want of which the kingdom was lost.
“We protect the Altiverse. We maintain a balance. That is our brief—to stem the twin tides of magic and science, to insure a mixture of both wherever we can.
“You recruits have graduated from step one of basic training, and you all have my congratulations. Well done. Tomorrow you will be split up into small teams, which willbe sent on training missions. In each case, this will be just like a real field operation, except that, obviously, you will not be in any real danger. You will be visiting friendly or neutral Earths, and you will have an objective which will be attainable, if not actually easy to attain, in the time period given. You will have twenty-four hours to complete your mission and return to base.
“Each team will consist of four recruits and one more experienced operative, just in case things go wrong. Which, I hasten to add, they will not….”
In the mess hall afterward, I sat with Jerzy.
“Ever get homesick?” I asked him.
“Why would I be homesick?” he asked, puzzled. “If I were not here, I would not be back in my family’s nest: I would be dead. I owe InterWorld my life.”
“Point taken,” I said, feeling envious—I was homesick all the time, sometimes to the point of actual pit-of-the-stomach pain that blipped my biosensors and puzzled the medics. I wouldn’t admit it, of course. I changed the subject. “I wonder if we’re going to be on the same team on this training exercise.”
“Why ponder and cogitate in a futile manner,” said a soft voice from behind us, “when, simply by perambulating to the bulletin board at the hindmost of the hall, full and utter discovery of all the facts may be yours.” Jai bowed his headand smiled and passed by.
“Did he say that the team assignments are already posted?” Jerzy asked me.
“I think so,” I said, and we raced each other through the hall to get to the bulletin board, which was already crowded with recruits copying down relevant information onto notepads and shouting out things like “Wah! I’m with Joliette! Better bring the garlic,” and “Hey, Jijoo. We’re on the same team tomorrow!”
Jerzy threw back his head and crowed. “I’m with the Old Man’s team!” he shouted. For the Old Man himself was actually taking out a group of four recruits. I was envious but also a little relieved that it wasn’t me: The Old Man still scared me sometimes. J/O was with the Old Man’s team, too. So was J’r’ohoho. He’s a centaur, and he let us know in no uncertain terms last week that if he hears any more “eats like a horse” lines during mess we’ll all be wearing horseshoe facial imprints. I figured the Old Man had taken the most promising candidates for his own
Once the exams were done—and, no, we never got to know the results, which to this day still hacks me off—wewere called into the briefing room, all one hundred and ten of us juniors, and I got to see the Old Man for the first time since I took the oath in the infirmary.
He looked older.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,” he said to us. “You are now all ready to begin to take part in the great struggle.
“New worlds are always being created. Some are worlds in which science holds sway”—I saw J/O hold his head up proudly—“others are worlds in which magic is the motive power. Most worlds are mixtures of the two. We of InterWorld have no problem with either ideology. Our problem is with HEX and with the Binary, who both seek to impose their belief systems and methods of reality on other worlds—sometimes through war, sometimes more subtly.
“InterWorld exists to maintain the balance. We are a guerrilla group, outnumbered and outgunned in every way. We could never directly confront either side, for we can never win. Nor do we want to win. But we can be the sugar in the gas tank, the chewing gum on the seat and the nail for want of which the kingdom was lost.
“We protect the Altiverse. We maintain a balance. That is our brief—to stem the twin tides of magic and science, to insure a mixture of both wherever we can.
“You recruits have graduated from step one of basic training, and you all have my congratulations. Well done. Tomorrow you will be split up into small teams, which willbe sent on training missions. In each case, this will be just like a real field operation, except that, obviously, you will not be in any real danger. You will be visiting friendly or neutral Earths, and you will have an objective which will be attainable, if not actually easy to attain, in the time period given. You will have twenty-four hours to complete your mission and return to base.
“Each team will consist of four recruits and one more experienced operative, just in case things go wrong. Which, I hasten to add, they will not….”
In the mess hall afterward, I sat with Jerzy.
“Ever get homesick?” I asked him.
“Why would I be homesick?” he asked, puzzled. “If I were not here, I would not be back in my family’s nest: I would be dead. I owe InterWorld my life.”
“Point taken,” I said, feeling envious—I was homesick all the time, sometimes to the point of actual pit-of-the-stomach pain that blipped my biosensors and puzzled the medics. I wouldn’t admit it, of course. I changed the subject. “I wonder if we’re going to be on the same team on this training exercise.”
“Why ponder and cogitate in a futile manner,” said a soft voice from behind us, “when, simply by perambulating to the bulletin board at the hindmost of the hall, full and utter discovery of all the facts may be yours.” Jai bowed his headand smiled and passed by.
“Did he say that the team assignments are already posted?” Jerzy asked me.
“I think so,” I said, and we raced each other through the hall to get to the bulletin board, which was already crowded with recruits copying down relevant information onto notepads and shouting out things like “Wah! I’m with Joliette! Better bring the garlic,” and “Hey, Jijoo. We’re on the same team tomorrow!”
Jerzy threw back his head and crowed. “I’m with the Old Man’s team!” he shouted. For the Old Man himself was actually taking out a group of four recruits. I was envious but also a little relieved that it wasn’t me: The Old Man still scared me sometimes. J/O was with the Old Man’s team, too. So was J’r’ohoho. He’s a centaur, and he let us know in no uncertain terms last week that if he hears any more “eats like a horse” lines during mess we’ll all be wearing horseshoe facial imprints. I figured the Old Man had taken the most promising candidates for his own
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