She was now less than ten meters away, and I was using all my processing power to dodge ring particles. So I couldn't really dodge well when she dove at me, ion motor and maneuvering thrusters all wide open. I tried to move aside, but she anticipated me and clunked into my side hard enough to crunch my high-gain antenna.
"Bob, look out!” I transmitted in clear, then completely emptied the tank on my number three thruster to get away from an onrushing ice boulder half my size.
Bob didn't dodge. The ice chunk smashed into her upper section, knocking away the payload deck and pulverizing her antennas. Her brains went scattering out in a thousand directions to join the other dust in the B ring. Flying debris went everywhere, and a half-meter ball of ice glanced off the top of the cargo container on my payload deck, smashing one of my mobiles and knocking the other one loose into space.
I was trying to figure out if I could recover my mobile and maybe salvage Bob's motors when I felt something crawling on my own exterior. Before I could react, Bob's surviving mobile had jacked itself in and someone else was using my brains.
* * * *
My only conscious viewpoint after that was my half-crippled mobile. I looked around. My dish was busted, but the whip was extended and I could hear a slow crackle of low-baud data traffic. Orders from Dione.
I tested my limbs. Two still worked—left front and right middle. Right rear's base joint could move but everything else was floppy.
Using the two good limbs I climbed off the cargo module and across the deck, getting out of the topside eye's field of view. The image refreshed every second, so I didn't have much time before whoever was running my main brain noticed.
Thrusters fired, jolting everything around. I hung on to the deck grid with one claw foot. I saw Bob's last mobile go flying off into space. Unless she had backups stored on Mimas, poor Bob was completely gone.
My last intact mobile came crawling up over the edge of the deck—only it wasn't mine anymore.
Edward scooted up next to me. “Find a way to regain control of the spacecraft. I will stop this remote."
I didn't argue. Edward was fully functional and I knew my spaceframe better than he did. So I crept across the deck grid while Edward advanced on the mobile.
It wasn't much of a fight. Edward's little tourist bot was up against a unit designed for cargo moving and repair work. If you can repair something, you can damage it. My former mobile had powerful grippers, built-in tools, and a very sturdy frame. Edward was made of cheap composites. Still, he went in without hesitating, leaping at the mobile's head with arms extended. The mobile grabbed him with her two forward arms and threw him away. He grabbed the deck to keep from flying off into space, and came crawling back to the fight.
They came to grips again, and this time she grabbed a limb in each hand and pulled. Edward's flimsy aluminum joints gave way and a leg tumbled into orbit on its own.
I think that was when Edward realized there was no way he was going to survive the fight, because he just went into total offensive mode, flailing and clawing at the mobile with his remaining limbs. He severed a power line to one of her arms and got a claw jammed in one wrist joint while she methodically took him apart. Finally she found the main power conduit and snipped it in two. Edward went limp and she tossed him aside.
The mobile crawled across the deck to the cargo container and jacked in, trying to shut the life support down. The idiot savant brain in the container was no match for even a mobile when it came to counter-intrusion, but it did have those literally hard-wired systems protecting the human inside. Any command that might throw the biological system out of its defined parameters just bounced. The mobile wasted seconds trying to talk that little brain into killing the human. Finally she gave up and began unfastening the clamps holding the container to the deck.
I glimpsed all this through the deck grid as I crept along on top of the electronics bays toward the main brain.
Why wasn't the other mobile coming to stop me? Then I realized why. If you look at my original design, the main brain is protected on top by a lid armored with layers of ballistic cloth, and on the sides by the other electronic bays. To get at the brain requires either getting past the security locks on the lid, or digging out the radar system, the radio, the gyros, or the emergency backup power supply.
Except that I'd sold off the backup power supply at my last overhaul. Between the main and secondary power units I was pretty failure-proof, and I would've had to borrow money from Albert to replace it. Given that, hauling twenty kilograms of fuel cells around in case of some catastrophic accident just wasn't cost-effective.
So there was nothing to stop me from crawling into the empty bay and shoving aside the surplus valves and some extra bearings to get at the power trunk. I carefully unplugged the main power cable and the big brain shut down. Now it was just us two half-crippled mobiles on a blind and mindless booster flying through the B ring.
If my opposite even noticed the main brain's absence, she didn't show it. She had two of the four bolts unscrewed and was working on the third as I came crawling back up onto the payload deck. But she knew I was there, and when I was within two meters she swiveled her head and lunged. We grappled one another, each trying to get at the cables connecting the other's head sensors to her body. She had four functioning limbs to my two and a half, and only had to stretch out the fight until my power ran out or a ring particle knocked us to bits. Not good.
I had to pop loose one of my non-functioning limbs to get free of her grip, and backed away as she advanced. She was trying to corner me against the edge of the deck. Then I got an idea. I released another limb and grabbed one end. She didn't realize what I was doing until I smacked her in the eye with it. The lens cracked and her movements became slower and more tentative as she felt her way along.
I bashed her again with the leg, aiming for the vulnerable limb joints, but they were tougher than I expected because even after half a dozen hard swats she showed no sign of slowing and I was running out of deck.
I tried one more blow, but she grabbed my improvised club. We wrestled for it but she had better leverage. I felt my grip on the deck slipping and let go of the grid. She toppled back, flinging me to the deck behind her. Still holding the severed leg I pulled myself onto her back and stabbed my free claw into her central processor.
After that it was just a matter of making sure the cargo container was still sustaining life. Then I plugged in the main brain and uploaded myself. The intruder hadn't messed with my stored memories, so except for a few fuzzy moments before the takeover, I was myself again.
* * * *
The shuttle was immense, a huge manta-shaped lifting body with a gaping atmosphere intake and dorsal doors open to expose a payload bay big enough to hold half a dozen little boosters like me. She moved in with the speed and grace that comes from an effectively unlimited supply of fusion fuel and propellant.
"I am Simurgh. Are you Orphan Annie?” she asked.
"That's me. Again."
"You have a payload for me."
"Right here. The bot Edward didn't make it—we had a little brawl back in the rings with another booster."
"I saw. Is the cargo intact?"
"Your little human is fine. But there is the question of payment. Edward promised me fifty grams, and that was before I got all banged up fighting with poor Bob."
"I can credit you with helium, and I can give you a boost if you need one."
"How big a boost?"
"Anywhere you wish to go."
"Anywhere?"
"I am fusion powered. Anywhere means anywhere from the Oort inward."
Which is how come I passed the orbit of Phoebe nineteen days later, moving at better than six kilometers per second on the long haul up to Uranus. Seven years—plenty of time to do onboard repairs and then switch to low-power mode. I bought a spiffy new mobile from Simurgh, and I figure I can get at least two working out of the three damaged ones left over from the fight.
I had Aerostat Six bank my helium credits with the Company for transfer to my owners, so they get one really great year to offset a long unprofitable period while I'm in flight. Once I get there I can start earning again.
What I really regret is losing all the non-quantifiable assets I've built up in the Saturn system. But if you have to go, I guess it's better to go out with a surplus.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Books To Look For by Charles de Lint
Interworld, by Neil Gaiman & Michael Reaves, Eos, 2007, $16.99.
Remember the buzz you got when you were a kid and first discovered those Robert Heinlein juveniles? Do you have a young person in your life that you'd like to introduce to sf?
If you answered yes to either of those questions, then here's the perfect book for you. And before you give it to that young reader, take the time to read it yourself. You'll be pleasantly surprised.
Joey Harker is a kid who can get lost in his own house. But at the start of Interworld he ends up losing an entire world. He walks into a mist and comes out into a world that's only slightly different from his own. He manages to get back to his own world, but not before attracting the unwelcome attention of three groups of beings caught up in an endless war.
There are forces of magic, and forces of science, and standing between them, trying to maintain a balance, is an army of guerrilla soldiers—many of them variations on Joey himself. Because there are many parallel worlds (there's no need for us to go into how or why here—it's a tried and true sf trope that works as well here as it ever has), and because the boy who can get lost in his own house turns out to have the ability to navigate between the worlds, he's recruited by the guerrilla army, which is led by an older version of himself.
This is a fun book, that doesn't dumb down the scientific speculation and definitely has a contemporary feel.
With a collaboration, it's always fun to try to figure who brought what to the table, but it's not so easy here. Both Gaiman and Reaves have distinctive voices, but neither is apparent in Interworld. And while we might think that Reaves brought the sf, since Gaiman is so well known for his fantasy and new takes on mythic material, we have to remember that Gaiman is a writer whose career started with a non-fiction book on sf (that would be Don't Panic: The Official Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Companion).
But in the end it doesn't matter who wrote what. This is a smart, fast-paced book with great dialogue, and an old-fashioned sense of adventure that never feels old-fashioned.
* * * *
M Is for Magic, by Neil Gaiman, HarperCollins, 2007, $16.99.
But if your younger readers prefer fantasy to sf, Gaiman's got another book out that might well appeal to them. There's nothing in here that we haven't seen in other collections, and there are a couple of clunkers—or at least stories that have such an old-fashioned Dunsanian or Wodehousian feel to them ("How To Sell the Ponti Bridge,” “Sunbird") that I'm not sure they would appeal to teen readers—but the good stories far outnumber them and they feature Gaiman writing at the top of his game.
Whether they're eerie and bittersweet such as “Troll Bridge” or especially “The Price"; quirky like the story of the boy Bod who lives in a graveyard in “The Witch's Headstone"; or just plain weird as in “How to Talk to Girls at Parties,” readers of all ages will enjoy these stories. And they make perfect introductions to the best of what the contemporary fantasy field has to offer for a young reader who's ready to move beyond Harry Potter, Tolkien, or the Narnia books.
* * * *
Jumper: Griffin's Story, by Steven Gould, Tor Books, 2007, $24.95.
I like Steven Gould's work, and I like the Jumper books with their teleporting protagonists, but I'm not sure about this latest one. For one thing, with a Jumper movie coming soon, and the resultant deviations that movies can make from the text, Gould has decided to write this new novel consistent with the movie, rather than his earlier books.
Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I like to see the two kept separate. And really, how's he going to feel if the movie tanks and all he has left to show for it is a book that's inconsistent with the earlier ones in the series?
(Though for his sake, I hope the movie does well.)
The other thing is that Griffin's Story is basically the same as that of the first Jumper book except that the character Griffin grew up unable to keep his teleportation a secret from the world the way that Davy was able to in Jumper.
Now with that nitpicking aside, I have to say that I still enjoyed the book. Gould remains a fine storyteller, and it's fun to have another one of these books, even with its echoes of déjà vu. And just because it's the flip side of Davy's story, that doesn't mean we know how it will all turn out.
Griffin's Story is a darker book—perhaps reflecting the times, considering that the world is certainly a darker place since Jumper was first published—but it's also fast-paced, with moments of great tenderness, and some fine tongue-in-cheek humor, like the scene where Griffin is in the south of France, sketching and sipping a Starbucks latte, and an American girl comes up to ask him where he got his coffee since there isn't a Starbucks anywhere even remotely close by.
The thing with Jumper was that we were able to applaud Davy's ingenuity and enjoy what he did with his life and his ability to teleport. But Griffin is being hunted by ruthless killers who know about, and can track, his ability, and most of his victories are short-lived. It's serious business and we're too busy worrying for him to have the same kind of fun.
In the long run, I think this book will do best with readers new to the world Gould has created—and perhaps the viewers of the film.
* * * *
Vampire Academy, by Richelle Mead, Razorbill/Penguin, 2007, $8.99.
So here's the set-up: The Moroi are mortal vampires with an unbreakable bond to one of the four elements: fire, water, air, and earth. They need to be protected from Strigoi, who are like the vampires with which we're more familiar: strong, fierce, and immortal. Protecting the Moroi are the Dhampir, half human, half Moroi.
Before Vampire Academy opens, the Moroi teenager Lissa and her best friend and protector Rose had fled St. Vladimir's Academy, deep in rural Montana, and been living on their own for two years. At the beginning of the book, they're caught and brought back to where Rose will complete her Dhampir education and Lissa will once again be the queen of the Moroi social scene at the school.
The problem is someone is after Lissa, and the school security doesn't seem to be sufficient. Dead animals are left in her dorm room, Lissa has extra abilities she's been keeping a secret, and things are rapidly coming to the point that made the two girls escape previously.
I wasn't sure I was going to like this book. As I was reading the back cover blurb, I found myself asking, Do we really need one more book about teens and vampires and high school?
While I can't answer for you, it turns out I did, because I certainly had fun with this one.
Mostly that's due to the fact that we follow the story through Rose's first person point-of-view. She's got one of those smart, sassy voices and an attitude to match, so it's always entertaining to be in her company.
The pace is quick, the plotting full of twists and turns, and Mead does a fine job of balancing high school politics with the supernatural. But it was that voice of Rose's that I took away and remembered in the end.
I won't call Vampire Academy a must-read book, but it was one of the more entertaining ones I found this year. If you do decide to give it a try, I don't think you'll be disappointed.
* * * *
Material to be considered for review in this column should be sent to Charles de Lint, P. O. Box 9480, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada K1G 3V2.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Books by Elizabeth Hand
The Adventures of Amir Hamza, Lord of the Auspicious Planetary Conjunction, by Ghalib Lakhnavi and Abdullah Bilgrami, new translation by Musharraf Ali Farooqi, Modern Library, 2007. $39.95.
* * * *
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br /> Beowulf: A New Translation for Oral Delivery, by Dick Ringler, Hackett Publishing Company, 2007, $27.95/$9.95.
World of Wonders
"The zephyr-paced sojourner, the stylus of fascinating accounts of the expert chroniclers, and the flying arrowhead—to wit, the pen that must detail the messages of intelligencers—also records a few words concerning events on Mount Qaf, and regales those enamored of fables and legends of the past with some choice phrases from this wondrous tale...."
Thus begins a chapter sixty-four pages into the extraordinary Adventures of Amir Hamza, a breakneck-paced, lapidary setting of the great Persian epic Dastan-e Amir Hamza, just published by Modern Library in its first complete English translation in three centuries. Like many readers of fantastic literature, I'd heard of the Shah-Namah, the Persian Book of Kings, and read tales excerpted from it. But The Adventures of Amir Hamza, a fantastical saga of the uncle of the Prophet, was a discovery for me.
And what a find it is! For classic reference points, imagine a more exotic, populous, Eastern variant on Le Morte d'Arthur or Orlando Furioso; contemporary readers might cite Isak Dinesen's Gothic stories (for sheer elegance); the Kai Lung tales of Ernest Bramah (for highly perfumed prose), Stephen Goldin's Parsina novels (for Persian myth), Robert E. Howard's Conan novels (for sloe-eyed enchantresses and numerous decapitations); Clark Ashton Smith's Zothique (all of the above), or even J. K. Rowling's magnum opus (for page length). The Adventures of Amir Hamza most obviously evokes the world of the One Thousand and One Nights, yet despite the parade of magical beings and wicked warrior-kings (and a side trip to the magical land of Serendip), Amir Hamza's saga feels more grounded in the dust and chivalry and court protocol of the Middle Ages, rather than the dream-caliphates of an imaginary Araby.
FSF, February 2008 Page 3