“Do you have any of the keys to your lockout codes?”
“No, sir. They belong to the Admiral. This is her flagship. Was.”
“Give me a moment, Captain,” said Sherman. He changed channels. “Theory, is there anything we can do for them?”
Theory was silent for a moment. Odd. He must be running through a million options in his mind, Sherman thought.
“I have only one suggestion, Colonel,” Theory finally answered.
“What is it, man?”
“We might be able to override the copying restrictions on their algorithmic portions and bring them all over through the grist as free converts,” Theory said. “I have some new hacking software provided to me by Gerardo Funk, the engineer from Titan.”
Sherman relayed the idea to Philately. It only took her a moment to reply.
“Are you sure? We have an immediate self-erasure clause coded into our convert portions. It is supposed to keep us from, well, deserting.”
“We don’t know,” Sherman said. “But it’s all I have to offer.”
There was a moment of silence, and then came Philately’s answer.
“We’re ready,” Philately said.
“Then come to me,” Sherman said, “and save what you can.”
The next twenty minutes were filled with such intense activity, that Theory had to remind Sherman that the Montserrat was about to blow. They had got in the soldiers and the POWs, and taken the convert copies of the Montserrat personnel into the Boomerang’s grist. It had worked.
And now the ship was away, twenty thousand klicks from the destruction that was building behind them. Sherman turned his ship around, but left enough momentum to aft so that they continued receding from the doomed Montserrat.
“Thirty seconds, Colonel,” said Theory. They waited and watched.
“Ten.”
He felt his scraggly beard, grown thicker now. Soon he might actually be presentable.
“Five, four, three, two, one—”
The Montserrat became a ball of fire, far, far brighter than the sun.
All was silent, of course.
The shock wave took out the observational grist, and Sherman’s perspective shifted outward, grist line after grist line. By the time the radiant energy reached the Boomerang, it was only a gentle breaker, rocking Sherman’s ship like a wave on a calm sea.
The jamming, Sherman thought. It is over!
“I must call Dahlia,” he said. “And tell her that I still live.”
“Well,” said a voice behind Sherman in the virtuality. “What a pleasant surprise.”
Sherman spun around, his pulse racing.
“Calm yourself, my boy. It’s just me,” said Tacitus. The old man held out his hand. “Congratulations.”
Sherman took a breath and got hold of himself. He reached out and took the old cloudship’s hand.
“He asked me not to announce him,” said Theory. “I’m sorry for the shock, Colonel.”
“Quite all right, Theory,” said Sherman. “You’ve been perfect for too long, anyway. Take a break and join us.”
“Sir?”
“Let us all sit down for a moment.”
Three chairs appeared. Sherman found the one with the straightest back and took it. He had always hated mushy chairs. Tacitus lit a cigar, offered one to Sherman, but Sherman declined. It was enough to rest, his hands on his lap. To Sherman’s surprise, Theory took one of the cigars.
“The merci broadcast of the battle,” said Tacitus, “was a master stroke.”
“What’s that?” said Sherman. For a moment, he couldn’t remember that he’d ordered it. “Oh, yes.”
“It very likely got you a government,” said Tacitus. “We were in session, debating a new metaplanetary constitution, the other cloudships and I. There was a bit of fear and trembling. I don’t suppose you’ve heard. Ganymede has fallen to Amés.”
“No,” said Sherman.
“But then we saw you fight. And we saw you win,” Tacitus continued. “After you got that bomb into place, we passed the damn constitution with a two-thirds majority. Welcome to the new Solarian Republic, General.”
“I’m a colonel, sir.”
“No,” said Tacitus, “you are not.”
“Well,” said Sherman, “So.”
Tacitus took a long puff on his cigar. He breathed out, and the smoke wreathed about him, obscuring his face for a moment. Then Sherman could see him.
“We are putting you in charge,” said the cloudship. “And I believe you’ve got a navy.”
“When,” said Sherman. “And how many?”
Tacitus laughed, and ashed his cigar. The detritus disappeared as it fell, and did not dirty the floor of the virtuality. In the virtuality, everything could be cleaner than life.
“Give me a few days—e-days—and I’ll have your answer,” Tacitus said. “In the meantime, I have a message for you from the Congress of Ships. A question, actually.”
“What is it?”
Another puff on the cigar. “What is it, we were wondering, that you might need from us, and what, exactly, were you planning to do?”
Sherman considered the old man. Was he five hundred? A thousand? The e-years did not matter; Tacitus’s eyes were still young.
I hope that I will once again have young eyes someday, thought Sherman.
“I wish you to give me your trust,” Sherman said. “And then let there be war between Amés and me.”
About the Author
TONY DANIEL is the author of two previous sf novels, Earthling and Warpath. He is a writer and producer of audio drama at SCIFI.COM for the “Seeing Ear Theatre,” an internet site which brings cutting-edge digital technology to the wonder of the Golden Age of Radio. Daniel also heads up the New York City theatre troupe “Automatic Vaudeville,” which produces independent films, as well as a monthly live radio show on WBAI 99.5 in New York. He lives in Brooklyn, New York.
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Credits
Jacket illustration by Gregory Bridges
Jacket design by Amy Halperin
Praise for the Author
“A cross between Bruce Sterling and Doc Smith that teems with vivid characters and surprising action.”
- Publishers Weekly, starred review
Books by
Tony Daniel
THE ROBOT’S TWILIGHT COMPANION (short stories)
EARTHLING
WARPATH
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
METAPLANETARY. Copyright © 2001 by Tony Daniel. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
EPub Edition © APRIL 2001 ISBN: 9780061826733
Print ISBN 9780061826733
Print edition published in 2001 by EOS an Imprint of
HarperCollins Publishers
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