“All this would also make sense if we found a rich asteroid,” Tacorian pointed out.
“If it was an asteroid, why haven’t you filed a claim on it? It’s been years.”
Lord Takorian chose a judicious silence.
“My lord,” said Sula, “I’ve been looking. I’ve had telescopes and other detectors pointed at Manado since its departure, and we saw it vanish. Now, it might have cut its engines and powered down to reduce its heat signature, but why would it do such a thing? Why would it be hiding out there, and why on its return would it need the increased security of a Fleet dockyard? Plus, going black is very difficult for a ship the size of Manado, which is why we never tried it in the war and used decoys instead.” She nodded. “Lastly, if you’d found a valuable asteroid or planetoid, you wouldn’t need the vast increase in carrying capacity that Lord Mogna has provided for you. But you’ll need all that if you want to transport immigrants and supplies to a new settlement.” She tilted her head and looked at him. “The one question I can’t manage to answer is why none of the earlier surveys found the wormhole.”
Lord Tacorian took a long breath, then let it out. “The wormhole is in orbit around a planetoid. It must have been eclipsed when the earlier surveys were run and any associated electromagnetic phenomena put down to conditions on the planetoid.”
“And your Captain Patel discovered it?”
“Indeed she did.”
“So, what’s on the other side?”
Tacorian took another breath. “A solar system with a perfect, habitable planet the size of Zanshaa. And a second cold, dry world that’s barely habitable but with a climate that could be adjusted over time. All we’d need to do is decrease the surface albedo, then the glaciers would melt and the place could become quite cozy. It would take centuries, but we could make it a lovely world.”
“And you need to keep your discovery secret until arrangements can be made in Zanshaa for your company to be primary contractor on the settlement, with Lord Mogna as patron.”
“Lord Mogna’s already patron of Devajjo. It’s unlikely they’d give him a second world.”
Sula nodded. “So, that’s a reward to be dangled before some key politician or other. Or a second reward, if you count the colder world.”
“There are three. Because we’ve found another wormhole in the system that leads to another system and another inhabitable world.”
Sula tried to keep her mouth from dropping open. “It would be like the Hone Reach,” she said. A series of habitable systems opening up one after the other, with Earth as the door. Any efforts at settlement would be based on Earth, and any trade with the newly settled worlds would have to pass through Sol’s system.
From being a sad, provincial, dead-end world, Earth would become key to a bonanza.
“How long before you make the announcement?” Sula asked.
“At least two years. Maybe more. Things in Zanshaa . . .” Lord Tacorian waved a hand vaguely. “Things aren’t yet in order.”
Which meant, Sula thought, that not enough of the Lords Convocate had yet been bribed. These things took time: the project’s secrecy meant that none of them could be told exactly what it was they were being bribed to do, because if the secret got out, factions among the Convocates would start scrambling to harvest the worlds for themselves. Negotiations were bound to be a little on the delicate side.
Lord Tacorian shifted in his chair, then leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “Let’s do a little dickering,” he said.
The end result of the conversation was that Sula would get her additional four percent in four years, after her term as governor of the dockyard was over. It would frankly be a reward for her cooperation in the interim, and Sula didn’t have a problem with that. Lord Tacorian was willing to sign a document formalizing the arrangement.
Getting rid of Lord Peltrot Convil was going to be more difficult, since he was so entrenched in the company’s business, but Tacorian assured her that it would happen. Sula was tempted to arrange to have him killed herself, but considered that after having killed one enemy on Earth, and having just entered a war of assassination against a prominent Peer clan on Zanshaa, she was involved in quite enough mayhem for the present and taking quite enough chances.
Lady Commissioner Bjorge was still investigating Goojie’s murder, the misdeeds of Anna Spendlove, and any theoretical connection between the two—and might, if she was sufficiently thorough or lucky, find the actual sponsors of the crimes, which would take Lord Peltrot off the table without Sula having to raise a finger. Sula could only hope.
“One last request,” Sula said finally, after all the arrangements had been completed. “May I ask that you name one of your new cities Ermina, after my cousin who was killed?”
“Of course,” said Lord Tacorian with a smile. “I’d be very pleased to do it, my lady.”
After which they had an agreeable lunch, during which Tacorian decided he’d take up Sula’s offer of wine after all. So, a bottle was brought, and while Sula watched, Tacorian drank several glasses and toasted their new arrangement. He swayed just a little when he left.
Poor man, Sula thought, he’s had a bad shock. And lost a few hundred billion of the theoretical trillions of zeniths he’d possibly make someday if everything worked out.
Sula returned to her office after the meeting with Tacorian and looked out of her little tower at the dockyard with its small ships, cranes, tangles of pipes, solar collectors, and robots performing routine maintenance, all brilliantly lit in the glare of Earth’s sun. The ring, which from this perspective looked absolutely flat, seemed to stretch to infinity in either direction, like a highway into the heavens.
She couldn’t see Earth. It was above her head, with the mass of the ring in the way.
Earth, which was about to experience a rebirth. Enough money would fall from orbit to jump-start a new Terran culture, though it would be a culture far removed from anything Earth had spawned on its own. Forty percent of the population was composed of alien species, for one thing, and they would have contributions of their own. But at least humanity’s home world would not be so forlorn, dusty, sad, and half-forgotten.
There was a chime from her sleeve display, and Sula looked to discover a call from Jack Danitz. She hadn’t heard from him since her return to the dockyard, when she’d transmitted to him the tactics by which she’d survived Second Magaria.
Because she was in a good mood, she answered. Even Danitz’s booming voice and aggressive presence failed to spoil her mood.
“I’ve won Second Magaria three times now!” he proclaimed. “Twice as the loyalists, and once as the Naxids. It’s brilliant!”
“I trust you’re giving your tactics proper credit,” Sula said.
“I will, eventually,” Danitz said. “But there are some egos I need to crush first.”
“Well,” she said, “good luck with that.”
Danitz preened on the little sleeve display. “Luck won’t have anything to do with it.”
By now, Sula had ceased to be amused. “Is there a reason you called me, Mr. Danitz?”
“Oh. Yes.” He smiled. “I see that your impersonator got away. Would you like me to help find her?”
“The police are already looking. And she won’t be masquerading as me any longer and won’t be making public appearances, so I don’t know where you’d start.”
Danitz flashed a confident smile. “I have a few ideas.”
Sula thought for a moment about whether she wanted Spendlove found, then decided she didn’t care one way or another. “Go ahead, if you want. You’re not about to start some kind of detective re-creationist club, are you?”
Danitz laughed. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. Maybe I will.”
“Good hunting, then, Mister Danitz.”
“Thanks! Say, I wonder—”
Sula terminated the conversation. She pictured Danitz—tall as a signpost, spindly, bearded, in his suede boots—skulking around the
alleys of Constantinople, pretending to be a detective, and the thought cheered her.
She turned to the window and looked out at the ring and the stars beyond. Somewhere out there was the wormhole gate that would lead to a new, green, uninhabited world, soon to have a city named Ermina. Perhaps it would be a place for Sula to retire, decades from now, when she decided to leave the Fleet and become someone else.
Who was she now? she wondered. After the visit to Terra, the intrigues, impersonations, threats, and murder?
Sula was the same person she’d been before. A weapon, directed not against the rebels as before but against a new clutch of enemies. Just as determined, just as isolated, living a life just as precarious as she had during the rebellion.
Everything dies. Nothing matters. Words to live by.
She looked at her faint reflection in the window, raised a hand, pointed it like a pistol.
That’s what this is about, she thought.
“Bang,” she said, and lowered her hand.
This is who I am, she thought.
About the Author
WALTER JON WILLIAMS has written more than thirty volumes of fiction, in addition to works in film, television, comics, and the gaming field. A Nebula Award–winning author, he’s appeared on the bestseller lists of the Times (U.K.) and the New York Times, and is a world traveler, scuba diver, and a black belt in Kenpo Karate.
He began his career by writing historical fiction, the sea adventure series Privateers & Gentlemen, before moving into a new career as a science fiction writer. The first novel to attract serious public attention was Hardwired.
He’s written cyberpunk (Hardwired, Voice of the Whirlwind, Angel Station), near-future thrillers (This Is Not a Game, The Rift), classic space opera (Dread Empire’s Fall), “new” space opera (Aristoi), post-cyberpunk epic fantasy new weird (Metropolitan and City on Fire), and of course the world’s only gothic western science fiction police procedural (Days of Atonement).
He’s also a prolific writer of short fiction, including contributions to George R. R. Martin’s Wild Cards project.
He’s also maintained a foot in the gaming industry, having written RPGs based on Privateers & Gentlemen and Hardwired, contributed to the alternate-reality game Last Call Poker, and written the dialog for the Electronic Arts game Spore.
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Also by Walter Jon Williams
PRIVATEERS AND GENTLEMEN SERIES (AS JON WILLIAMS)
To Glory Arise (originally The Privateer)
The Tern Schooner (originally The Yankee)
Brig of War (originally The Raider)
The Macedonian
Cat Island
HARDWIRED SERIES
Hardwired
Solip:System
Voice of the Whirlwind
DRAKE MAIJSTRAL SERIES
The Crown Jewels
House of Shards
Rock of Ages
METROPOLITAN SERIES
Metropolitan
City on Fire
DREAD EMPIRE’S FALL SERIES
The Praxis
The Sundering
Conventions of War
Investments
DAGMAR SHAW SERIES
This Is Not a Game
Deep State
The Fourth Wall
SHORT FICTION COLLECTIONS
Facets
Frankensteins and Foreign Devils
The Green Leopard Plague and Other Stories
Ambassador of Progress
Knight Moves
Angel Station
Elegy for Angels and Dogs
Days of Atonement
Aristoi
The Rift
The New Jedi Order: Destiny’s Way
Implied Spaces
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Introduction
Begin Reading
About the Author
Also by Walter Jon Williams
Copyright Page
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novella are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
IMPERSONATIONS
Copyright © 2016 by Walter Jon Williams
Cover art by Jaime Jones
Cover design by Christine Foltzer
Edited by Jonathan Strahan
All rights reserved.
A Tor.com Book
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ISBN 978-0-7653-8780-6 (ebook)
ISBN 978-0-7653-8781-3 (trade paperback)
First Edition: October 2016
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Impersonations Page 17