by Tony Daniel
Leo was grousing along these lines one day when Otis poked his head into Leo’s hut, and said, calmly, “Uh, Leo, I think we have a problem, man.”
“What?”
“A Department of Immunity ship is hanging nearby in space, broadcasting to us on an electromagnetic band.”
“Yikes!”
“Yeah, well, there’s something else . . .”
“What is it, Otis?”
“They are specifically demandingyour surrender.”
“Mine?”
“They are inquiring after one Leo Y. Sherman,” said Otis. “Unless your middle name is—”
“It’s Yorrick,” Leo said, a sinking feeling lodging in his stomach.
“Taylor’s got them on a radio in the common hut.” Otis smiled a forced smile. “Taylor would have a radio.”
“Let’s go hear it,” Leo said. “Maybe it’sTheo Sherman they want. He’s dead.” Leo immediately wished he hadn’t said that, though of course nobody here knew about his brother except Aubry, and she was off at target practice with Jill.
It was a repeating message. There was no doubt—they were asking for Leo.
“Leo Y. Sherman, author of ‘The Vas After Sunset,’ and other licentious tracts, is wanted for questioning by the Department of Immunity. Prepare for a DI investigative team arriving at Port B on Oregon Bolsa of the Nirvana Mycelium at system time 19:00. If Leo Y. Sherman is known to you, you will provide him for immediate questioning. This is an official Department of Immunity Edict. Disregarding it or its contents or aiding or abetting anyone attempting to disregard this Edict is punishable by up to five e-years rehabilitative therapy or induction into DI Enforcement Division uniformed service under Title Fifty-four Protocols. Leo Y. Sherman, author . . .”
Taylor turned down the volume and looked up from his radio set with a serious face, but Leo could tell he was pleased. He probably never got a chance to show off his ancient equipment which, from the look of it, he kept in top-notch working order.
“Notice anything strange?” Otis said.
“Yeah,” Leo said. “They didn’t just come in here and nab me.”
“Exactly,” Otis said. “What do you suppose it means?”
“What time is it?” Leo asked.
“We’ve got an hour to get you hidden or away.”
Jill came through the door. “What’s going on?” she said. “I suddenly got a bad feeling, so I came back here.”
Franklin turned up his radio and the message repeated itself.
“What is an investigation team?” Jill asked.
“Two sweepers and an aspect,” Taylor immediately answered, apparently up on his DI lore.
“Well then,” said Jill, “that shouldn’t be much of a problem. If someone can handle the aspect, I can take out one sweeper and Aubry can take out the other.”
“Aubry?”
“She needs the practice.”
“Um,” said Taylor, “we’re talking about Department of Immunity Antipersonnel Sweepers here, right?”
“Are they the kind designed for riot work?” said Jill.
Taylor looked at her. “Usually not, on an investigation team,” he said.
“Then it should be even easier,” Jill replied. “I think you should let them dock.”
“What do you think, Leo?” Otis asked. “It’s your ass that’s on the line, too.”
Leo ran his hand through his hair. Almost like I’m preparing for a goddamn holiday visitor of something, he then thought ruefully. “If they think ‘The Vas After Sunset’ is prurient, they ought to read my article on Muslim whorehouses in New Tangiers Bolsa,” he said. “But there’s something odd about this. Let’s do it, but let’s be careful. I want to be there”—he looked at Jill, who frowned, but nodded yes—“in case I can do something to defuse the situation.”
“Or you might get yourself killed,” Otis said.
Leo smoothed his hair down again, as if by reflex. “What did you say back in that meeting in the clearing? ‘Good death to us all?’ Let us go see what’s up.”
Five
They met the DI crack secret-police team with an official delegation of two women under twenty, fifty-two rats, and five ferrets.
It was not much of a fight.
From Leo’s perspective, behind a tree, everything seemed to be over in a matter of seconds. Aubry had been tense, but expectant, anxious to try out the techniques Jill had been teaching her to fight the sweepers. She was armed with two pistols—a projectile semiautomatic and a beam weapon—and a twelve-foot-long pike that Leo knew was charged up with decoding grist and high-voltage electricity of a sufficient amperage to fry the guts of a whale on old Earth.
Thank God those Tromperstompers have rubber soles, Leo thought, looking at Aubry’s incongruous kid’s boots. And then he thought: Mr. Graytor, look what I’ve done to your daughter. That this was a far better way for Aubry to turn out than being dead did not make Leo feel any better. She ought to be in school, wondering what the big deal is with boys, and learning whatever it was smart kids like her studied at eleven. Trigonometry and Camus or something.
The Department of Immunity team debarked, and were headed down the path that led to the huts, when Aubry and Jill simply ambushed it. The two sweepers responded precisely on cue by extending their knockout gas wands, and had gotten it right up the nozzle. Meanwhile, the rats and ferrets swarmed the human, subduing him only. They wanted this one alive.
After the smoke had cleared, Leo came out from hiding to find Jill and Aubry standing over the man—it was a man—with pistols pointed at his head and chest. Even though a rat was menacingly on his shirt collar, he lay prone on the ground and made no move. About a dozen Friends joined Leo in a circle about this tableau.
“Keep your hands in view at all times,” Jill said. “I wouldn’t like to have to kill you, but I will.”
“I believe you,” the man mumbled. He didn’t seem anxious to excite the rat by moving his Adam’s apple too much.
Jill made a funny whistle through her teeth, and the animals that had swarmed the man left him and faded back into the underbrush. But Leo could still hear them there, rustling around. It was the first time the rustling of rats had seemed like a comforting sound to him.
“Stand up,” said Jill. The man promptly did so. He was a medium-built man, at least six inches taller than Leo. He had on gray pants, a white shirt, and a gray traveling coat. He could have been anybody. He was Caucasian, with pale skin. A clean-shaven face, a bit angular. Hair in a current style.
This is the most nondescript man I have ever encountered, Leo thought. He caught the man’s gaze.
“I am Leo Sherman,” he said. “What is it you want with me?”
The man motioned with his head to one of the dead sweeper units. “That was unnecessary,” he said. “I was prepared to disable them.” He looked at Jill and Aubry. “But effective.”
“Please answer my question,” Leo said.
“I would like to speak with you in private,” the man said.
“These are my friends.”
“Yes. That is apparent. Nevertheless, you may either kill me or speak with me in private.”
Leo considered. He pointed to Jill. “She will be present,” he said. “And her,” he continued, pointing to Aubry.
“Of course,” said the man.
“Let’s go to my hut, then.”
They all tromped back through the forest, Aubry and Jill keeping the man covered at every step of the way. They sat cross-legged on mats in the hut, a low table in between them. The man kept his hands on top of it. The man sat down a little creakily in the cross-legged position, but didn’t seem to be in too much pain. There wasn’t much Leo could do about it in any case. The Friends were not big fans of chairs.
“I am a special assistant to Director Amés,” the man said. “My duties chiefly involve intelligence assets and covert operations, though I am not part of the Department of Immunity, but operate in my own personal sphere.”
“Do you mind if I smoke? It has been long, and I used to like them so much.”
“Jill will light it for you.”
Jill took the pack, checked it out, then flicked a cigarette, pointing it away from everyone. It was a regular cigarette, and the flicking motion lit it.
“Better not let some of the Friends see you doing that,” Leo said. “They have ancient smoking taboos.”
“That will not matter soon,” the man said.
“What is your name?”
“That does not matter, either. You may call me C. People frequently do.” The man took a long, long drag on his cigarette, let out the smoke, and sighed. “I am here not at Amés’s behest, but for my own reason,” he said.
“And what are those?”
“I should have said ‘reasons,’ actually,” C replied. “May I take something out of my coat pocket?”
“If you do so slowly and in full view.”
C nodded. He reached into his coat and slowly removed what looked for all the world like an oil lamp from the ancient days of Arabia. It was about the size of his hand.
“This,” he said, setting the lamp on the table, “is me.”
“You?”
“This lamp, you will find, is quite heavy. It is made of an extraordinarily dense grist matrix. Inside it is a copy me, complete and entire, in all essential functions.”
“And you’re giving this to me?”
“I am entrusting it to you. I am asking you to serve as an envoy for its delivery.”
“To whom?”
C took another long drag, then breathed out. “To your father,” he said.
“What?” said Leo. “What did you say?”
“Your father—Colonel Roger Sherman of the Federal Army of the Planets Third Sky and Light Brigade.”
The man sucked in on his cigarette, finished it, ground it out between his fingers. Had he just smoked a cigarette in three long pulls? Apparently so, Leo thought.
“Tell me why you want me to do this,” said Leo.
“It is complicated,” said C. “May I have another cigarette?”
Jill lit him one.
“What it comes down to, though,” he continued, “is that because of me, Amés has a huge intelligence advantage over the outer-system forces, and over you.” He looked at Jill. “You are, by the way, the only partisan resistance whom I take seriously.”
“Well, thank you,” said Leo. “I guess. But that does not explain why you are doing this.”
“Let’s just say I want to even the playing field,” said C. Another amazingly long drag on his cigarette. A long breath out. “You see, Amés is holding a woman I love hostage, and using this leverage to demand my services. I am caught in a very effective trap in that regard, and the only possible avenue I see to get out of it is this desperate measure.” He looked at the lamp. “Besides,” he said, “it will be interesting to have a worthy opponent.”
“Are you that good?”
“My services brought about the immediate surrender of Uranus,” C replied. “False modesty would serve no purpose here, and, in any case, pride is not a vice to which I am susceptible. When you are considering operations against me, you should use curiosity as a lure. I am an extremely curious man.” Another drag. “In any case, I can do no more at the moment than to beg that you do as I request.”
“You could tell us what Amés knows about Nirvana,” said Leo. “And when, and if, he plans an attack.”
“That I will not do,” said C. “And I am afraid that you would be unable to force it out of me. In fact, you might endanger yourself by doing so, if you could. It is essential that the Director does not find out yet that I am a turncoat, and if you began using intelligence information that only I am privy to, he would realize this immediately.” Another drag. “Amés is an intelligent man, and extremely tenacious. He has enormous resources available to him, as well.”
“So, I am to take this . . . copy . . . to my father. Is that what you want?”
“You are, by far, the best choice for a messenger,” said C. “And, as an incidental bonus, this might serve to heal the rift between you two.”
“How thehell do you know about that?” said Leo.
C did not reply. He only smiled benignly. Leo looked for something sinister in his face, but found nothing. Of course, that didn’t mean it wasn’t in his soul.
“And you expect us just to let you go? If you are so important, then killing you or keeping you hostage would seem to be in our best interest.”
“Oh, no,” said C. “I won’t be going anywhere.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t possibly return and report to Amés. He would know immediately what I had been up to.”
“Then . . . what?”
“Don’t you see?” said the man. “You will have to kill me.”
“But . . .”
“Don’t worry. Amés has a backup copy.” C again meticulously extinguished and destroyed his cigarette. “May I have another?”
Leo distractedly indicated that Jill give him one. Leo stared at the oil lamp. Was it a godsend or a trap? There was no way to tell without analyzing it. C seemed to read his thoughts.
“It will only work for Roger Sherman,” C said. “It is rather strongly encrypted, and I believe that not even your best hackers would stand a chance. They may try, of course. I have allowed for that possibility, and doing so will not kill them.”
“You seem to have thought of everything.”
“Let us hope that I have.”
“And how is my father supposed to activate it?”
C smiled. “How do you suppose?”
“Rub it three times and make a wish?”
“Just rubbing it will do the trick.”
Leo looked carefully at the man. He realized that C was not so nondescript after all. His eyes were an amazing color of green.
“So what do you want? Firing squad?”
C sighed, smoked, sighed again. “Anything will do,” he said. “Will you deliver the copy?”
“I could let you be killed and not tell you,” Leo said.
“I do not need closure,” C replied. “I have died before. Besides, I have read all of your work and formed something of an opinion of your character. I don’t believe you would do such a thing, unless it served a higher purpose. You are not a cruel man.”
“I suppose not.”
“If it will make it any easier, I will do the killing part myself. But I would like a weapon of some sort. I can do it bare-handed, but the process is messy and painful.”
Leo stared at him. C calmly smoked his cigarette down again.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“There is nothingto say,” C replied. “After I am gone, you should put my body into the transport ship and set it adrift. Do not send a message to Amés or anything of the sort; it will only needlessly call attention to yourselves. I have already compromised Nirvana to some extent, obviously, but this was necessary. Let it go no further.”
C smoked. Leo watched him. The cigarette was soon done. “Well then,” said C.
“All right,” said Leo. “Let’s go back to the docking port.”
They walked quietly back through the woods. When they got near to the portal, C said to Jill, “I would rather the child not see this. She will see plenty enough, soon enough.”
“You are right,” Jill replied. Leo thought he might have heard a catch in her voice. “But Leo should stay with her.”
C stopped walking. “Yes, that would be better.” He turned to Leo. “Will you make the delivery?”
Leo smiled. “Let’s have a smoke.”
“Do you smoke?”
“I used to,” Leo said. “Back when I was a juvenile delinquent.”
The two men stood and smoked.
“It would be worth taking that thing to the ends of the universe,” Leo said, “just to see th
e look on Dad’s face when I deliver it.”
“Thank you,” said C.
“Who are you really?” Leo ask. “Where do you come from?”
“My name is Clare,” the man said. “Clare Runic. I’m just an average joe from Earth, same as you.”
They finished smoking. Leo stayed with Aubry, while C and Jill went farther up along the path. The last Leo saw of the man, he was rounding a bend. C did not look back. He disappeared in the trees. A few minutes later, a single shot rang out.
Six
from
First Constitutional Congress of
the Cloudships of the Outer System
April 2, 3013 (e-standard)
a transcript
C. Tolstoy: Mr. Chairman . . . I don’t know what to say. I came here today expecting to witness another gathering of idiots and knaves. I’m afraid I don’t have such a high opinion of the lot of you as old Tacitus. I have seen a lot of history myself, and the one lesson that it has taught me is the futility of what we do. I have moved farther out the Road than most of you, and believe me, it wasn’t to explore. If you want to know the truth, and even if you don’t, it was to get away from the lot of you. And not just you—everybody. But I have to say I have never seen a more arrogant, gullible bunch than you are. Honorable Cloudships? We’re all floating coffins in space. Now some of you may know that I and my family tend the graveyard, so I know whereof I speak. We stay out of your way, and you stay out of mine—until the time comes whenyour business becomesmy business. But I have a feeling that the times are changing, and you and I are going to be bumping into one another more often. Now, I’m not talking about dying. All of you think you won’t, and all of you will. No, I have another meaning. I do believe that it is time for me and my boys to come in out of the sticks for a while. I have listened to what has been said, and I’ll tell you. I think the time has passed for doing a damn thing, and the fate is upon you. That’s right, you heard me! Old Tolstoy and his sons are joining up. You want a navy, Lebedev? Well, here are your first recruits. We’re on our way right now. I sure as hell hope you’re ready for the thirteen of us.
