The Reference Library
Tom Easton
Analog
July-August, 2006
Rainbow's End, Vernor Vinge, Tor, $25.95, 365 pp. (ISBN: 0-312-85684-9).
Red Lightning, John Varley, Ace, $23.95, 330 pp. (ISBN: 0441-01364-3).
Engaging the Enemy, Elizabeth Moon, Ballantine Del Rey, $25.95, 402 pp. (ISBN: o-
34544756-5).
Exit Strategy, Pierce Askegren, Ace, $7.99, 278 pp. (ISBN: 0441-01356-2).
The Ghost Brigades, John Scalzi, Tor, $23.95, 317 pp. (ISBN: 0-765-31502-5).
Quaestiones, or The Protopresbyter's Tale, A Romance of Nova Europa, Robert Reginald, Ariadne Press (270 Goins Court, Riverside, CA 92507), $24.95 (TP), 560 pp. (ISBN: 1-57241-1260).
Against All Enemies, John G. Hemry, Ace, $7.99, 336 pp. (ISBN: 0441-01382-1).
The Sound of Angels, lisa Silverthorne, Wildside, $29.95, 192 pp. (ISBN: 0-8095-5605-7).
Amityville House of Pancakes Omnibus, Vol. 2, Pete S. Allen, ed., Creative Guy Publishing, $14.95, 286 pp. (ISBN: 1-894953-304).
Vernor Vinge's reputation for thoughtful, insightful, and sometimes spectacular science fiction is not hurt a bit by his latest, Rainbow's End. The fun begins with the novel's subtitle, "A novel with one foot in the future," which by inversion reminds us of "one foot in the grave." This fits the protagonist, Robert Gu, whom modern technology has reclaimed from both old age and Alzheimer's. He is frustrated by his loss of the poetic talent that made him famous in his first youth and by having to go back to school to learn how to get along in a world of wearable computers, virtual overlays, eyeblink Googling, and silent messaging. He is living with his son, Bob, the leader of a Marine emergency response team, his wife Alice, a situation analyst who has undergone so many mental overlays (or "Training") that her psyche is very fragile, and their daughter MM, who is the epitome of the new generation, embedded in and skillfully manipulating a constant flow of information. Miri's willing to help Gramps develop his skills (including his user interface, or Gu-i), but when his infamous temper flares, Bob puts the kibosh on that.
"One foot in the grave" also fits the world of the tale, for many weapons of mass destruction are now in the hands of terrorists. Indeed, Bob's emergency response mission involves spotting crises and stomping them before any more cities get nuked. There is also the mysterious infection that, after a certain ad was aired, prompted thousands of people to buy a certain product. Astute analysts picked up on it, and an Indian intelligence honcho got on the trail. However, Vinge reveals early on this same honcho is behind the scheme; he's been working on YGBM ("You Gotta Believe Me") mind-control technology, and though it's as scary an idea as anything anyone has ever come up with, he thinks it's the only way to save the world. Now he must control the investigation to keep his secret safe. Unfortunately, when he enlists a mysterious stranger known only as "Rabbit," that control is mightily threatened.
Vinge drops a single hint to who Rabbit really is but never pursues it. Instead, he focuses on Robert Gu, who quite desperately wants his poetry back. When another mysterious stranger promises him that if only he will help penetrate a secret biolab not far from the Gu household, he is tempted. Meanwhile, his infamous temper is fading, talents for techy things are appearing where there had never been a hint, and MM and her friends (including Robert's supposedly dead wife) are keeping an eye on him and marveling at the way at least two strangers seem to be taking over the virtual projection of the graduate student who is interviewing Robert for the sake of a thesis.
Vinge is playing games on several levels, from the title itself to the subtitle to the idea of intelligence people "running" agents to wild extrapolations on ubiquitous, wearable, and distributed computing, intelligent buildings, virtual and augmented reality, flash crowds, social networking, and more. The result is a treat for those—like many Analog readers—who are familiar with the basic technology and modern speculations about where it will go. Those who lack that familiarity, however, are likely to be baffled.
In 2004, John Varley was writing a novel featuring a tsunami and trying to get the imagery right. The day after Christmas, he woke up to find that imagery all over the headlines. And the real tsunami was centered spookily close to the one in his manuscript.
So he changed the location to the Atlantic, trashed the Eastern Seaboard from Florida to Boston (among other places), and then woke up one morning to find Katrina in the news.
If a science fiction writer is going to look like a prophet, most would rather do so for something like the Squeezer that Varley came up with for Red Thunder (reviewed here in November 2003), which provided cheap power and space travel and a solution to the waste disposal crisis to boot. It also made possible some pretty dangerous weaponry, so the inventor, Jubal Broussard, got squirreled away in the Falklands, far from his beloved bayous. Every so often, he sends a nifty little gift to Ray, son of Manny and Kelly, Red Thunder's protagonists. They live on Mars now, thanks to Squeezer-powered space travel, and run a hotel. But Manny's Mom is still in Florida. And when something (a rock? a star-ship accident? terrorists?) smacks into the Atlantic at nearly light speed, ricochets off into space, and sets the water sloshing, it's clear that she needs help, if she's still alive. Of course, the phones are down, the net is down, the lights are out, and security forces have locked down the flow of information. There's nothing for the folks on Mars—including Ray's family—to do but hop a liner and head for Earth.
That's where Red Lightning starts, moving quickly to encounters with Homeland Security grown powerful and intrusive well beyond what we are already coming to accept and then to a tour of devastation far too familiar from recent news. Varley got the imagery right. He also got right the political and managerial chaos, to the point where when he describes the crumbling of the U.S. into civil war and rebellion and independent states in the aftermath of the much-greater-than-Katrina devastation, we find it easy to believe.
So—once Ray and family are back home on Mars—why is Mars being invaded by goons in black uniforms and unidentifiable insignia? Their tactics are right out of the CIA manual of recent ill repute, and here's Ray strapped to a chair, wires clipped to his scrotum, pumped full of dopey-juice, going "Duh!" every time his interrogators shout "Where is Jubal Broussard?" at him.
Ray hasn't a clue, but the question itself says Jubal has somehow, despite guards enough to give a small nation an army, navy, and air force, left the Falklands. The astute reader may wonder if the FedEx package delivered just before the invasion, not to mention the gizmo Jubal said he was sending back on page 5, might have something to do with the mystery. Of course, said reader would be dead on, although the details are hard to foresee. Jubal doesn't just think outside the box; he doesn't even know where the box is.
Varley being Varley, everything comes to a dramatically satisfying conclusion. There is even provision for a sequel, for Ray, like his dad before him, is real tight with his costar. If there's a pattern here, look for the sequel to feature the next generation. As for Jubal, remember all those legends where the hero or wizard (Merlin, for instance) is foretold to return when needed. Note also that the Squeezer drive promptly led to a flock of starships heading off to hunt for new worlds. Only a few have come back, so there's plenty of opportunity for developments.
Keep an eye peeled. I plan to.
Elizabeth Moon introduced doughty heroine Kylara Vatta in Trading in Danger (reviewed here in March 2004). Ky, born to her clan's destiny of interstellar trade, went off to the military academy instead, got expelled, and was promptly shipped out as captain of a decrepit tradeship. Before long at all, she was involved in a pirate-mercenary war, from which she emerged ready to turn independent—and thereby live up to her heritage as a Vatta.
In Marque and Reprisal (January/February 2005), most of the Vatta clan back on Slotter Key was destroyed. Ky was handed a letter of marque, which made her a privateer. She wasn't real happy with that, but before long she had killed a Vatta black sheep, claimed his armed ship as her own, rescued a couple of marooned family members, and begun to think of taking the fight back to the enemy.
Enter volume three, Engaging the Enemy. As a privateer, she finds she is just barely tolerated in polite company. The first station she approaches offers to impound her and her ship until a court can assay the justice of her claim. Another—even after a pirate fleet conquers a world—refuses to let her talk with other captains of forming a fleet and going to war. Another raises obstacles when a long-time Vatta captain appears and claims Ky is an imposter. But Ky has resources, people like the mysterious Rafe who can hack into the foe's computers and discover some very interesting files. In due time, she meets with other captains and finds them willing at last to form a war fleet. Unfortunately, one, a woman from the conquered world, insists on command of the fleet. Since Ky think it's more important to win the war than be admiral, she acquiesces. And when a pirate squadron interrupts their training maneuvers…
The title is apt, but the book is a middle volume, not quite a placeholder but not much more than a step on the way to the excitement of the next volume (or perhaps the next). If you read and enjoyed the first two in the series, you'll have fun with this one, for Moon keeps things moving in very believable fashion. But if this is the first one in the series to come your way, put it down and find the others. You'll be glad you did.
Pierce Askegren's Exit Strategy, sequel to Human Resource (reviewed here in July/August 2005) and Fall Girl (December 2005), takes the next small step toward finding out why the Voyager space probe, supposedly long gone from the solar system, wound up in the dust of the Moon. Humanity's first starship is nearing completion, the crew pool has been selected (though it will be winnowed by half before launch), and Erik Morrison, who rescued his career by bringing the Voyager find to attention and by discovering the strange and worrisome talents of Wendy Scheer (people who meet her thereafter try very hard to please her; she may not be a spy, but boy is she a security risk!), is about to preside over a final round of celebratory parties. But Erik is thrown into a tremendous spin when word arrives that his twin sons have just died in a freak accident. Depression is the name of the game now, and the novel is largely the tale of how he, with a little help from his friends, pulls out of it in time for the long-awaited launch.
There are other threads, of course. Wendy is up to something, though we never learn exactly what. The death of Erik's sons appears to be precisely the accident it seems, but…And Erik's very competent security chief, Hector Kowalski, befriends a young lady of the crew, Trine Hartung. She will become his extension, and in future volumes she may play a crucial role.
Future volumes? This one supposedly completes the trilogy, but Askegren does a creditable job of moving one set of characters off stage and moving others on. At the same time, Exit Strategy feels like a middle volume. It has less of climax and resolution than one expects for a conclusion, and the central mystery (Voyager) remains unsolved.
John Scalzi's Old Man's War earned praise as an interesting take on space war. Once Earthlings pass age 75, they qualify to join the Colonial Defense Force and be given a nice new super-strong young body with which to stave off the hordes of ravening aliens who threaten the colonies. That tale started with John Perry and his wife Kathy and followed John off to herodom. Kathy isn't there because she died too soon, but those who volunteer and die before their transformation get their DNA used to produce even superer soldiers for the Ghost Brigades. John does meet Jane, who looks just like his late wife, not that she remembers. Or does she?
In The Ghost Brigades, the focus is on a traitor scientist, Charles Boutin, who ran off to help the aliens defeat humanity. Fortunately, he left behind an electronic copy of his mind, which can be copied into a Ghost Brigade trooper equipped with a copy of Boutin's brain. The only question is whether Boutin's memories will come through for interrogation, and at first the answer seems to be no. The trooper, Jared Dirac, joins the ranks, under Jane, of course, and soon distinguishes himself. In due time, the traitor's memories do begin to emerge, but by then Jared has a mind of his own. When he finally meets Boutin, Boutin thinks he has a natural ally, but things don't go the way Boutin expects.
This one is space opera that looks fruitfully at the classic nature-nurture problem and concludes that one's experiences can make all the difference in the world. Scalzi once more does a very nice job.
Michael Burgess has spent many years as a librarian at California State University, San Bernardino. He has also been an editor and publisher (Borgo Press) and a scholar of SF ever since his first book, Stella Nova (1970). Now, under his Robert Reginald pen name, he is developing a multivolume history of an alternate Europe, Nova Europa, where the names are just a little off anything you're used to seeing. If, that is, religious orders called the Philemignons and the Coprolites (whose leavings are to be found everywhere), a town called Pestulantz, a duchy called Dollepartenburg, a mount called Dallillama, and the ninety-nine Buzzards of Biir (now safely bottled on a monastery wall) can be considered "just a little off"! I reviewed The Exiled Prince in the March 2005 column. Now it's time for Quaestiones, or The Protopresbyter's Tale.
The Exiled Prince included a fair amount of action. Quaestiones is a quieter tale. It begins in the monastery of Saint-Tranquillin le Troussequin in Liban (Lebanon), where Brother Theophilos is realizing that he no longer takes delight in a life of copying manuscripts. When he asks his abbot for permission to take a sabbatical and discover his mission in life, he is handed a companion, two mules, a parrot, a bundle of letters to deliver, a magical map, and a mission to fill in the map's gaps. And he's off to Julianople and the long roads beyond the Blackish Sea. On his trek, he will pose and answer questions, solve mysteries, make friends in high places and low, and discover much about himself and his companions. He proves a pleasant fellow to accompany on a trek, even without violent action and grand adventure. As I read, I found myself reminded of Gene Wolfe and Mervyn Peake, which are no poor things for a book to bring to mind. Yet Reginald is his own man with his own voice, his own sense of humor (those names!), and his own points to make.
Reginald has the gift of creating a richly detailed world for his tales and convincing, congenial characters. I enjoy his work and recommend it to lovers of classic fantasy.
John G. Hemry has an interesting series going in his tales of Paul Sinclair in the U.S. space navy. Beginning as an ensign with a talent for spotting anomalies, sticking to his guns, and uncovering corruption, he soon developed the sort of reputation that makes others nervous when he's around. Now, in Against All Enemies, he's a lieutenant and legal officer on the USS Michaelson when it is part of a multinational posse standing off an asteroid seized by religious nuts. The cops are about to arrive when the ships of the South Asian Alliance open fire. The Michaelson's hands are tied; it can fight only when fired upon and hit to boot. But the captain shifts the ship into the way of the attack, whereupon the shooting stops. Why? There is a suspicion that the SAA somehow knew just what the Michaelson's orders were, and soon Sinclair is being asked to help in the search for a traitor. Hemry's real-world experience gives the investigation and subsequent courtroom scenes a convincing feel.
I do stand bemused at the idea that the space navy of the future will be cast so remarkably in the sea navy mold (complete with bosuns and bosun's pipes), perhaps especially since the US Air Force has long played a greater role in space activity. But Hemry is hardly the first to bemuse me in that way. If you crave a legalistic space-Hornblower, you'll enjoy this one and you'll look forward to what he gets into next. He has new orders now, apparently thanks to the enemies he's made, and after his two-day honeymoon, he's off to Mars.
Lisa Silverthorne's collection, The Sound of Angels, shows undeniable talent, but despite the enthusiasm shown by Dean Wesley Smith in his introduction, she has a ways to go. At this point in her career, she stresses the emotive content of her stories (and chooses her stories accordingly). "The Wild Feed" (original here) provides a good example. The gimmick is that a TV "reality" show has equipped chosen heroes—a cop, a firefighter, and a soldier—with cameras that put their every move on screen for the viewing public. Immediately, she introduces the viewers for the soldier's part of the action—his parents. And immediately the reader predicts the outcome. It's a three-hanky button-pushing story, but there is absolutely no shred of suspense. And despite the digs at the glossy superficiality of the show's anchorwoman, there is precious little social commentary.
Other stories are less blatant but suffer from the same excess of hanky-twisting and obviousness that I consider overacting when I see it on screen. I can accept it in small doses, and indeed the first few stories in the book did not raise my hackles. But larger doses have a more cloying—even retroactively so—impact.
If you like your buttons pushed, you'll love it.
If a book's title and cover copy ("postmortem breakfast trip…warped sense of humor") can entice a reader, Amityville House of Pancakes Omnibus, Vol. 2, has what it takes. Editor Pete S. Allen has assembled four novellas, including Uncle River's thoroughly strange "Firebirds and Truth," in which the obsessive Josip finds that time travelers and firebirds erupt from his and others' mouths at odd moments, his place of work (an egg farm) has a way of disappearing, and truth turns out to be fairly mundane. Just as memorable, and perhaps a bit more logical, is Carlos Hernandez's "The Last Generation to Die," in which Auleria Laque, who has just won in court the right not to be forced to undergo immortality treatments, becomes the target of several pro- and anti-immortality conspiracies, including the mysterious narrator, who just wants to be obsolete. Mario Dianne's "Cella Murphy, Public Dick" loves brownies instead of booze. Sally Kuntz's "Froggie" concerns the misadventures of a frog turned by a wizard into a comely young lady. Among other things, she finds that she quite likes dalliance.
Warped, yes. Different enough that it could only come from a small press. And quite reasonably enjoyable. At least, I liked it.
2007.06.17/MNQ
3,300 words