was rumored to be well over one hundred years old. Or his brain tissue was anyway, since his original bio body had worn out decades before, and been replaced by a succession of cybernetic vehicles, which were said to come in a variety of shapes and sizes.
But was Foley looking at one of them? That seemed very doubtful. . . . Because rich people had space yachts, and thousands of them had escaped Earth orbit during the early days of the invasion. So rather than feeling awestruck, as he otherwise might have, Foley was angry. “Right, you’re Sergi Chien-Chu, and I’m President Nankool. . . . You can leave now. . . . Or should I have some of my men throw you out?”
Sergi Chien-Chu thought of the fi?le he wanted and watched the electronic document appear in front of his
“eyes.” “Before you do that, Lieutenant, consider this. . . . Who, but an admiral, or someone similar, would know that your military ID number is CFN 204-632-141? Or, that you have a heart-shaped birthmark on the upper surface of your left arm? Or, that you were in Battle Station III’s brig, accused of grand larceny when the Ramanthians attacked?
Which is when you found your way to the surface—and wound up in command of the Earth Liberation Brigade. And you’ve been riding the tiger ever since.”
Foley realized his mouth was hanging open and closed it. Even though it was theoretically possible that someone other than a genuine admiral could assemble the information the stranger had at his disposal, it was unlikely, given the circumstances, and deep down the offi?cer knew that the blond man’s claim was true. Somehow, impossible though it might seem, one of the most remarkable people in the history of the Confederacy was seated there in front of him! “Sorry, sir,”
the offi?cer said apologetically. “But this is something of a surprise. . . . A welcome one, however—since you’re far more qualifi?ed to run this organization than I am!”
“Nice try, son,” Chien-Chu said dryly. “But you accepted your commission—and by God you’re going to earn it! In fact, given that it would be unseemly to have such a junior offi?cer in charge of a soon-to-be-powerful army, I’m jumping you up to commander! It’s a temporary rank, of course, but who knows? If you can control your larcenous instincts, and if you show up for work every day, we might make the promotion permanent when this is all over. And drop the charges against you . . . Sound good?”
Foley looked around, saw that his underlings were staring at him with open curiosity, and knew why. He had already spent more time with Chien-Chu than the people who had preceded him. “Sir, yes sir. Would you be willing to drop the charges pending against my men as well?”
“Yes,” Chien-Chu answered. “We’ll drop any charge short of murder, assuming that they take your orders, and remain loyal until Earth has been liberated.”
“Okay,” Foley said. “It’s a deal.”
“Good,” the entrepreneur replied. “Now here’s the problem. . . . We, which is to say the Confederacy’s military forces, are spread very thin at the moment. The truth is that we won’t be able to send a fl?eet here for months to come. And that’s if things go well! If they don’t, it could be as much as a year before help arrives. Meanwhile, as is typical in such situations, all sorts of criminals are busy feeding off the chaos.”
Foley remembered his plan to rob the Mill Valley Security Deposit Building and felt a sense of shame. Chien-Chu saw the expression on the other man’s face and grinned knowingly. “Shocking isn’t it? And, making a bad situation worse, is the fact that some of these criminal organizations are pretending to be freedom fi?ghters as a way to solicit popular support. At least one of which is being led by a retired general. It will be necessary to deal with him eventually, but given the fact that his people would kick your ass right now, that will have to wait. In the meantime we’re going to strengthen your group until the Earth Liberation Brigade is the big boy on the block. . . . And that’s when you’ll be ready to throw your weight around. But only for the benefi?t of the Confederacy. Do you read me?”
The truth was that Foley wasn’t sure he could live up to all of the admiral’s expectations. But Chien-Chu knew about his personal history and hadn’t been deterred. So perhaps he was capable of leading the Earth Liberation Brigade and just didn’t know it. “Yes, sir,” Foley said. “I read you.”
“Good,” the other man said. “Tell me something, son. . . . Are you an angler?”
Foley thought it was strange to have someone who appeared to be the same age he was call him “son.” “No, sir,” the offi?cer replied. “I grew up the city, so I never went fi?shing.”
“Well, it’s never too late to learn,” the businessman observed. “Go ahead and fi?nish what you were doing. The concept of meeting with citizens on a regular basis is a good thing to do by the way. . . . And it makes you different from the pretenders who would like to set up shop out there. So once you’re fi?nished, we’re going to take a run down to the bay. You know the huge hab that Homby Industries built just off Angel Island? Well, the condos took a beating from the bugs, but there’s nothing wrong with the marina located underneath the complex. And that’s where our fi?shing boat is hidden.”
Foley thought that the whole notion of a fi?shing trip was strange, very strange, but nodded anyway. “Yes, sir. Will I need some sort of pole?”
Admiral Chien-Chu smiled indulgently. “No, son, you won’t.”
It was nearly pitch-black off Point Bonita, but there was some light from the moon, as large swells passed under the yacht. The ride out had been relatively smooth, thanks to the winglike hydrofoils that lifted the hundred- foot-long boat out of the water and enabled speeds of up to forty-eight knots. But now that the vessel was hull down, it was subject to the motion of the waves like any other boat, and Foley felt increasingly nauseous. Not Chien-Chu, though, who had just fi?nished explaining how the yacht had been “borrowed” from a wealthy acquaintance of his, who was among those who had fl?ed the planet. The crew consisted of ChienChu Enterprises employees, who wore black hoods and were heavily armed. A group which, Foley suspected, would be assigned to keep an eye on him.
“We’re getting close,” the admiral promised, as another wave broke over the plunging bow. “Earth is two-thirds water you know. . . . That makes for a lot of surface area to keep track of. And even though they have to drink the stuff, the bugs aren’t all that partial to H O. That’s because they 2
evolved on a planet that doesn’t have any oceans.”
All of that might have been more interesting to Foley had his stomach felt better. As it was, the naval offi?cer was battling the urge to vomit, which for reasons he wasn’t altogether sure of, he didn’t want to do while Chien-Chu was looking on. “Okay,” the cyborg said, as a stream of data continued to scroll down the right side of his “vision.” “Here it comes!”
There was a clap of thunder as whatever “it” was broke the sound barrier, followed by a tremendous explosion
