To commemorate the completion of Zoe’s Tale, I thought I’d do something special here for you today and show you something you haven’t seen before: An entire excised chapter from one of my books.

This particular excised chapter comes from an iteration of The Last Colony that I didn’t write (or more accurately, didn’t complete): the second iteration, in which I had planned to write the books in alternating chapters of first person and third person, the first person chapters featuring John Perry, the hero of Old Man’s War, and the third person chapter featuring other characters, particularly General Tarsem Gau, the leader of the Conclave. Eventually, I abandoned the idea for two reasons: it rapidly became clear it would be a structural nightmare, and also because if I wrote it this way, the book would end up in the 180,000 word range — i.e., I’d have written enough for two books, and would only be paid for one. Bad writer, no cookie.

I ended up generally abandoning the third person chapters, and rewrote the information in first person chapters for the final version of the book. Only two chapters of this second version made it into the finished book: John Perry’s first appearance, which was chapter two, became part of the final book’s first chapter, and the chapter in which General Gau argues with a Whaidi colonist leader, which had been the first chapter, turns into Chapter Eight in the final book (and is turned into a video recording, so I could cheat my way into having a third person chapter into a first person book).

Because this is an excised chapter, it’s not canonical — among other things, character names change between this and the final version, and General Gau’s species name also undergoes a transformation. But neither did the chapter get entirely wasted; it was abandoned not because it wasn’t good, but because mechanically it didn’t work for the book. So during the writing of the final version of the book, I ended up strip-mining this chapter for material. Folks who have read The Last Colony will see things they recognize from different contexts: The video of the Conclave attack on the Whaidi colony, an invocation of a states secret act, and an oblique discussion of Fermi’s Paradox, which got a rather more extensive discussion in this excised chapter (because I was annoyed at people who act as if Fermi’s Paradox was some sort of immutable law, that’s why).

And as it turns out, I mined it again for part of Zoe’s Tale. You’ll have to wait to see which part and how, but the fact that I could (and did) goes to show that nothing has to be wasted. This excised chapter itself will never see the light of day as part of a larger story, but little bits and pieces can be moved around and used and recycled. Waste not, want not.

It also served another purpose: This chapter is basically me thinking out loud about several characters in The Last Colony, and figuring out their personalities and what makes them tick. This chapter became back story for several characters, notably Generals Rybicki and Gau; playing with them here gave me a good idea who they were when I started writing them for the final version of The Last Colony. It’s good to have that sort of grip on your characters before you start putting canonical words into their mouths.

The lesson here for writing is that even your “failures” — the stuff that doesn’t work for your book, for whatever reason — can still have value to you as you’re wrestling with your work. This is one reason way, whenever I chop out a significant chunk of text from a book I’m writing, I don’t simply delete it: I cut it and paste it into an “excisions” document that I keep handy. That way I can go back to that material for reference, or to drop a line or an idea into the final version, perhaps in a completely different context, but where it will do some real good. This is what I do, and it’s worked for me so far.

Chapter Three (of the second iteration of The Last Colony, now deceased)

Colonel Janice Dunn, General George Rybicki’s assistant, found the general in a conference theater. He was walking around in a massive projection of local space, stars glowing different colors to signify which races’ colonies lived around them. “General,” she began.

“Shhh,” Rybicki said, and pointed at the stars. “Looking.”

“Secretary Bell’s office sent a message,” Dunn said, ignoring her superior’s order to shush. “Your presence is requested for a meeting in ten minutes.”

“She probably wants an update on Roanoke,” Rybicki said. “I’ve got colony leaders for her now.”

“You should take a few minutes to prepare,” Dunn suggested.

“I already have a report ready,” Rybicki said. “I’ll be fine.” We went back to staring up at the projection.

“If you wanted to look at the stars, you could have just looked out a window,” Dunn said.

Rybicki snorted. “Shows how often you actually look out a window,” he said. “All the stars get washed out by Phoenix. And when you’re on a part of this station that’s pointed away from the planet, all the station’s exterior lights throw up too much glare.” He pointed up at the display. “This is as good as starwatching gets around here. And anyway, I’m not actually stargazing, I’m thinking.”

“About what?” Dunn asked.

“Fermi’s Paradox,” Rybicki said.

Dunn frowned. “I’m not familiar with that,” she said. “Is that some physics thing?”

“It’s an extraterrestrial thing,” Rybicki said, and pointed again at the display. “Fermi lived before we knew about all this. He didn’t believe that intelligent life existed anywhere but on Earth. He said, ‘if they exist, why aren’t they here already?’ And no one had a good answer for that. So they speculated that maybe the aliens couldn’t travel fast enough to get to Earth, or maybe they were out there, but they were just waiting until humans were sufficiently advanced before admitting them into some federation of worlds. Crap like that. But none of them ever figured out the real reason.”

“Which was?” Dunn asked.

“That they were all too busy beating the Hell out of each other to bother with us,” Rybicki said. “They didn’t get to us because they occupied themselves with worlds they already knew about. Our research arm’s done some archaeology here and there, whenever we take a planet from someone else. You want to know the average lifespan of a colony — any colony, by any species? Try and guess.”

“I can’t imagine,” Dunn said.

“75 years,” Rybicki said. “A race finds a planet, sets up shop, has some relatively peaceful decades, gets complacent, and then some other race comes in and wipes the floor with them, and then that species colonizes the planet. The cycle starts over. Wash, rinse, repeat. Some colony planets have gone back and forth dozens of times. Just about the only planets that ever stay the same over any length of time are species home planets, because they’re usually too well-populated and defended to pry a species off of. Everything else is constantly up for grabs.”

“And yet we have colonies that have been around for a couple of centuries,” Dunn said.

“Yes, well, we game the system,” Rybicki said. “We’ve made Phoenix humanity’s homeworld for all intents and purposes, so that’s a colony that’s staying put. And we populate our colony worlds faster than most species, because we have a planet overflowing with extra people. Why grow a colony slowly when you can flood it with waves of surplus Pakistanis and Norwegians and Egyptians?”

“I’m pretty sure the colonists wouldn’t appreciate being called ’surplus,’” Dunn said.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t,” Rybicki said. “Doesn’t mean they’re not. And we’re glad for it because it makes it easier to keep a foothold. The last old colony we lost was Coral, and that was because we had less than 100,000 colonists on it. We took it back quickly enough, but you see the point. Were you around for Coral?”

“I think I was still in London at the time,” Dunn said. “Old and fat and hoping I didn’t die before I could get off the planet.”

“Congratulations,” Rybicki said. “You made it.”

“Thank you, general,” Dunn said.

“You’re welcome,” Rybicki said, and with his BrainPal caused the human colony stars to shine a little brighter. “We have a lot of old colonies, but we still lose a fair number of new colonies. You’ve read the report on Everest colony.”

“I did,” Dunn said. “But Everest wasn’t lost because of attack.”

“No,” Rybicki agreed. “Although a colony-wide bacterial plague isn’t a much better way to die. Point is, even we conform to the 75-year rule. It’s interesting.”

“If you say so, general,” Dunn said, and pointed at the stars. “One wonders at how the Conclave will change that average for us.”

“Shhhhh,” Rybicki said again, sarcasm whistling out. “We’re still not supposed to admit that the Conclave exists. It’s still a state secret.”

“It’s a very poorly-kept secret,” Dunn said. “You can go down to the promenade and hear the soldiers talking about it.”

“State secrets are always poorly kept,” Rybicki said. “Yet they still manage to stay secrets. Officially, at least. CDF grunts can talk about the Conclave all they want. What matters is the colonies. We still haven’t explained it them. They still don’t know.”

“Or don’t want to know,” Dunn said.

Rybicki nodded. “Always a possibility. But then, there’s a lot we don’t know, either.” A star in the array growed more bright; the star around which the colony of Roanoke would be founded. “Everest aside, Roanoke will be our first colony after the Conclave came together. Our first test to see whether the Conclave intends to enforce its ban on colonization from non-Conclave races.”

“You don’t seem worried,” Dunn said.

“That’s not entirely accurate,” Rybicki said. “I’m concerned, but a lot depends on the Conclave itself. Everest was out there and they didn’t do anything about it. Was it because the Conclave was still getting itself together, or because they were simply rattling their sabers and hoping we’d be scared? We’re not the only ones who have colonized between now and then. The question now is how much of a priority we are to the Conclave. Or if we’re a priority at all.”

#

“What I want to know is when we will finally go after the humans,” said Lernin Il, once again. And once again, after a moment for the translation into a dozen languages, came the affirmative nods, bobbles, and signifying appendage movement from around the council table.

General Gau struggled mightily not to sigh in exasperation at the Tand member of the Conclave’s executive council, and lightly tapped the table instead. “There is the small problem that the humans have no colonies founded after the Agreement, Counselor Il,” he said.

“There’s the colony they call Everest,” Il said.

“There was the colony they called Everest,” Gau said. “It was wiped out by a native infection. Since then there have been no other attempts by the humans to start a new colony.”

“The fact Everest was colonized should be enough,” said Wert Ninug, the Dward counselor, and Gau tucked away for future reference that sometime between the time he’d left on his mission to the Whaidian colony and the time he’d gotten back the Dward had somehow slipped into the pocket of the Tand. That was interesting; the two races had a hate that went back hundreds of shar. Prior to this even if Wert had agreed with Il on a policy issue, it would have rather shot off the back of its own head then to say it publicly.

You wanted races to put away their old hates, some part of Gau’s mind said to him, and Gau had to note the comment with rueful satisfaction. He did want the members of the Conclave to get over their past enmities; he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted them to start new ones against him.

Gau glanced down the table to see who looked surprised at a Dward offering support for a Tand. It would be the ones who didn’t look surprised that Gau would need to worry about.

“Should it, Counselor Wert?” Gau said, presently. “The Agreement limits non-Conclave races to worlds they already have. Currently the humans are on the worlds they had prior to the agreement. Where should we attack?”

“They did colonize after the agreement,” Wert said. “They intentionally tested the will of the Conclave. Intent should matter for something.”

“I agree,” Gau said. “However, at the moment we have no avenue to respond. Everest was abandoned. All the other worlds the humans have we have all agreed they have a right to live on. And the Conclave is not meant to be merely an instrument of retribution or of punishment.”

“You had no problems punishing the Whaid,” Il said.

Gau paused a prudent moment before responding. “No, I didn’t,” he said, finally. “Nor will I the humans. When and if the humans attempt to colonize again.”

“We could make a special case out of the humans,” said Hafte Sorvalh, the Lalan Counselor. She was not an ally of either Il or Wert, so far as Gau knew. “One could argue their past actions merit a certain level of special attention.”

“In my experience today’s ’special attention’ is tomorrow’s standard procedure, counselor Sorvalh,” Gau said. “And this is not a standard procedure I think the Conclave should feel comfortable having. We are so early in time of this union of ours. We should not begin its time by compromising its laws, simply out of convenience.”

“We could change the law,” said Il. More agreement around the table.

“We could,” Gau agreed. “This executive council was empowered to do so. Each of you was elected among the governments of the Conclave to represent their interests. So yes, we could change the law. And then we could watch as Conclave members peel themselves away and form new alliances, because this council will have shown that we have no interest in creating the universe we said we were interested in living in. I don’t think we should be in a rush to dissolve the thing we’re supposed to guide. Do you?”

“You know the humans are dangerous,” Wert said. “They were the movers behind the Counter Conclave. They nearly wrecked the Conclave before it even began. We’re sitting here being judicious in our response to them, but you know as well as any of us, General Gau, that the humans are not returning the favor to us.”

“I’m not suggesting we ignore the humans, Counselor Wert,” Gau said. “Nor do I think it’s in the nature of the humans not to test our will. We will no doubt have an opportunity to face them again, and I suspect we will, sooner rather than later. What I suggest we remember, however, that the Conclave is more than the sum of its military might. We have other ways to discover the intent and the capabilities of the humans, other tools at our disposal. We want to create the circumstances in which the humans make their move, and we are able to respond — in our way, by our own laws.”

“Just as we would with any other race,” Sorvalh said.

“Precisely,” Gau said. “If we make a special case of the humans, we give them significance, and we diminish the Conclave by saying that we have to work outside our own laws to contain them. We give them power, which will attract others to them. We make it harder to defeat them. I’d prefer not to do that. When we defeat the humans, we want that defeat to be unremarkable. They will be just another race, isolated and alone, no longer a threat to anyone, much less the Conclave.”

#

The beams of light illuminating the Whaidian colony suddenly snapped off. General Rybicki felt the confusion in the room over that; the video in the room had begun with the colony swathed in light, and most people assumed that the beams would eventually focus into lethality. Shutting them off seemed unnecessarily cruel.

“Here it comes,” said Secretary of Defense Anthony Crane, who had seen the video before.

The killing beams were initially hardly detectable, with just the errant occasional flash of an airborne dust mote igniting to suggest the beams were there. But within a fraction of a second the entire colony ignited and exploded, and superheated air blew the fragments and the dust of the colony’s buildings, structures, vehicles and inhabitants up into the sky in a whirling display that illuminated the power of the beams themselves. The flickering fragments of matter mimicked and mirrored the flames that were now themselves reaching up toward the heavens.

A shockwave of heat and dust expanded out from the charred remains of the colony. The beams flicked off again. The light-show in the sky disappeared, leaving behind smoke and flames. Outside the periphery of the destruction, an occasional solitary eruption of flame would appear.

“What is that?” asked Karin Bell, the Secretary of Colonization.

“Some of the colonists were outside the colony when it was destroyed, we think” said Crane. “So they’re cleaning them up.”

“Christ,” Bell said. “With the colony destroyed those people would probably be dead anyway.”

“They were making a point,” Crane said.

“Point taken,” Bell said. “Lights, please.”

The video shut off; Rybicki felt the tension in his shoulders uncoil.

The lights came up to reveal a room jammed with people: Crane and Bell with their assistants and staff; Rybicki and several other generals and admirals with theirs. The general officers and the secretaries sat at the circular table; the staff members milled up against the walls.

The meeting was rather more packed, and packed with different people, than Rybicki had expected it to be. Rybicki had walked into room prepared for a status update meeting on Roanoke; he was going to discuss John Perry and Jane Sagan agreeing to lead the colony. That was not this meeting.

“How did we get hold of this video?” asked Charlie Garr, Bell’s chief of staff. “Who do we have working inside the Conclave that can get us something like this?”

Crane cracked a bitter smile. “You’re making the assumption that the Conclave doesn’t want us to see this, Charlie,” he said. “But you’d be wrong about that. This video was hand-delivered to us, and to every non-Conclave-affiliated government, by messengers from the Conclave itself.”

“I don’t understand,” Garr said.

“The Conclave has decided that races who aren’t in the Conclave can’t colonize any more,” Crane said. “We knew that already, of course. Only now, it’s clear the Conclave is intending to enforce that decision. If we try to colonize, that’s what’s going to happen to all of our new colonies.” Crane pointed toward where the video had just been playing. “This is their way of making sure we know they’re serious about their policy positions.”

“This really happened, then,” Colonel Dunn asked, behind Rybicki. “I mean, this isn’t an archive video from some attack in the past.”

“Along with the video, the Conclave gave us the coordinates of the colony — the former colony — and a three-day window to confirm for ourselves that the attack happened,” Crane said. “We checked. It happened, Colonel.”

“What colonies of ours are at risk?” Bell asked.

Crane nodded to his own chief of staff, Lance Wantanabe. “Theoretically, none,” he said. “The Conclave is targeting colonies established after it was founded. That was almost two years ago. We established the Everest colony, but it didn’t stick. As long as the Conclave stays within its own laws, we won’t be a target until we try to found a new colony.”

“Which we intend to do,” Rybicki said. As he said it he realized he wasn’t entirely sure whether he meant it as a statement or a question.

“Why did they take so long to start going after new colonies?” Bell asked.

“There are over four hundred races in the Conclave,” Wantanabe said. “If they’re anything like us, coordinating anything substantial is going to take time. They had to get their own government up and running and stable before they could worry about anyone else. We and at least a couple dozen other races took advantage of that time to found new colonies, but now it looks like the Conclave is determined to back up its threat.”

“But that can be to our advantage,” Crane said. “The Conclave is going to be busy policing the colonies that were founded in its wake. That gives us time to plan our attack.”

This got Rybicki’s attention. “‘Our attack?’” he said. “You’re suggesting that the Colonial Union can go up against the Conclave.”

“I am, General,” asked Crane. “Do you think otherwise?”

“As a practical matter, there are 400 races in the Conclave, and one of us,” Rybicki said. “That is not an insignificant matter of scale.”

“I agree, but I don’t think we really have much of a choice in that matter,” Crane said. “Unless we are willing to join the Conclave, which we are not, or are willing not to colonize, which we are not, the alternative is to fight the Conclave and destroy it.”

“I’m not disputing that these are our options,” Rybicki said. “I’m simply not sure how we go up against an enemy like that and not get ourselves slaughtered.”

“Start by changing your frame of reference,” said a voice down the table. Rybicki turned to see General Szilard, head of Special Forces, staring back at him with that disturbingly blank expression the Special Forces had. “You’ve made the mistake of taking the Conclave at its word, General Rybicki. You’re seeing as it would like to position itself to the non-affliated races. Monolithic. Coordinated. Unstoppable and inevitable.”

“The video we just saw makes a good case for that,” Rybicki said.

“That was the point, of course,” Szilard said. “What the Conclave doesn’t want you to see is that it’s young, uncertain and filled with political and social faultlines that we can exploit and use to bring it down. It’s a little like a diamond, general. You can’t wear down a diamond. But you can shatter a diamond to dust if you just know where to hit it. We can’t go against the Conclave head-to-head. You’re right about that. But we can destroy it. All we need is the right tool, used at the right time.”

“And what tool might that be?” Rybicki asked.

Szilard looked over to Crane.

“All right, everyone,” Crane said. “Let’s make this official. This meeting and everything said and done in it is covered by the Colonial Union State Secrets Act. Nothing leaves this room. General Szilard, you have the floor.”

“Thank you, Secretary Crane,” Szilard said. “I’m going to keep this simple. The way to defeat the Conclave is to play by its rules.” From the video output a picture flickered into existence, showing a thin, pale creature.

“For those of you who don’t know, this is Tarsem Gau, leader of the Conclave,” Szliard said. “He’s a general for the Tsideian race, or was a general, anyway, and still refers to himself that way, although of course he is the de facto leader of that planet as well as of the Conclave. Despite the power that devolves to him alone, Gau is, as far as we can tell, a creature who is genuinely trying to create a lasting political structure and not a prop for his own cult of personality. He’s nation-building.”

“That’s optimism for you,” Crane said, as a joke. No one laughed.

“Because of that, our intelligence people suggest he is extraordinarily sensitive to making sure that nothing the Conclave does is above its own laws,” Szilard continued. “This means we believe that the Colonial Union will not be attacked until and unless we attempt to found a new colony — and that the Conclave will only attack that colony.”

“That means that any new colony we found is going to find the entire Conclave in its sky before it even has time to dig in,” said Secretary Bell.

“It means, Secretary Bell, that by following the rules the Conclave has established, we will choose the place and time for our confrontation,” General Szilard said. “And that if we do things right, we can weaken the Conclave along the way so that when the confrontation happens, we can strike a fatal blow.”

“And what will ‘doing things right’ take?” Bell asked.

“No more than what we already have planned,” Szilard said. “General Rybicki.”

“Yes?” Rybicki said.

“I believe that when you came to this meeting today, you were going to provide Secretary Bell with a status update on the Roanoke Colony. Now would be an excellent time to give it.”

#

After the council meeting, Hafte Sorvalh asked for a private audience. Gau, though tired, invited her back to his personal office. He was amused when the Lalan, tall even for her own tall race, tried to be diplomatic about its size.

“This is cozy,” she said.

Gau laughed, as he sat. “You mean to say it’s impossibly cramped. Please, sit, Counselor Sorvalh.”

She sat. “I don’t mean any disrespect. I assumed your own office would be larger than this.”

“I have the large public office for meetings, and to impress people when I have to, of course,” Gau said. “I’m not blind to the power of impressive spaces. But I’ve spent most of my life on starships, even after I began to build the Conclave. You get used to not a lot of space. I’m more comfortable here. And no one can say that I give more to myself than any other counselor on the executive committe.”

“Indeed,” Sorvalh said. “You are almost arrogant in your humility, general. If you don’t mind me saying.”

“I don’t,” Gau said. “But we can always go to my public office if you prefer.”

“I’m fine,” Sorvalh said. “It actually is cozy.”

“Thank you, Counselor,” Gau said. “Now, please. What’s on your mind.”

“I’m speaking here primarily for myself,” Sorvalh said.

“All right,” Gau said.

“I’m worried about certain influences on the executive council,” Sorvalh said.

“Ah,” Gau said. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the strange, sudden marriage of convenience between counselors Il and Wert, would it?”

“You have to admit they make an unusual pair of allies,” Sorvalh said.

“I admit it,” Gau said. “I also suspect there is more going on there than either of them would like for me to know about. Suffice to say that I’m already going to be looking into it. But in itself, I’m not entirely sure I should express too much concern. There are a dozen members of the executive council for a reason. To make sure there are a multiplicity of voices, and not all of them telling me what I want to hear.”

“I appreciate that,” Sorvalh said. “I have taken advantage of that freedom myself. But — with all respect — when others of us have disagreed with you, we’ve still kept the interests of the Conclave at the heart of the matter.”

“You doubt our two friends are doing that?” Gau asked.

“I can’t say for sure,” Sorvalh said. “I can say that your destruction of that Whadian colony has motivated them and others. Before you did it, the matter of the Conclave’s military might was entirely theoretical. There was no Conclave military might, just an agreement that if it was used, it should be used in particular ways.

“But now there is a Conclave military, and you’ve consecrated its use against the Conclave enemies. Composing it of soldiers and ships of every Conclave member was your way of assuring responsibility for its use was shared by all. I suspect some are beginning to wonder if the converse is true — by spreading responsibility around you spread it thin enough that no one has to take responsibility for anything. And that’s an inviting proposition when you have enemies on a list.”

“Inviting enough to put one’s own interests first,” Gau said.

“Perhaps,” Sorvalh said. “Allow me to suggest that today’s attempt to get you to attack the humans was less about the humans than it was a probe to see how flexible you are with your power. The humans are an easy target. They have no friends, and everyone knows they mean us harm. But as you said to me, today’s special case is tomorrow’s standard practice.”

“I thought you might be testing me with that,” Gau said.

“Testing you? Oh, no,” Sorvalh said. “Merely providing you with an opportunity to make a point. And I was pleased to see you take advantage of the opportunity.”

“I’m happy to please you, counselor,” Gau said.

“Then perhaps you’ll consider something else that might please me — and a few others on the council,” Sorvalh said. “I and others are gratified that through the many shars it took to create the Conclave, you have always avoided assuming the powers you could have easily assumed. Time and again you showed that your interest was not in personal power, but in building a lasting peace. But now the Conclave is here, and I wonder whether the democratic impulses that led to its creation might not undermine it as you attempt to bring the remaining races into the fold.”

“You think I give the executive council too much say,” Gau said.

“I think the executive council was useful when the Conclave was being born,” Sorvalh said. “I wonder if it will continue to be useful as we progress.”

“I think it will be,” Gau said.

“Perhaps it will,” Sorvalh said. “But you should know that when we Lalans chose to join the Conclave, it wasn’t an executive council we trusted to achieve peace. It was you, General Gau. You and your vision.”

“But part of that vision was the idea that not too much power should rest in any one person, even me,” General Gau said. “I want to lead the Conclave, make no mistake about that. My arrogance extends that far. But I don’t want to do it as an emperor or a tyrant. Empires fall and tyrannies collapse. I’m hoping for something more than that.”

“People might be suspicious of someone who doesn’t want power for himself,” Sorvalh said. “It’s not normal.”

Gau smiled. “I’m not pure, counselor,” he said. “I have a the usual amount of personal vanities and flaws. And I enjoy running things. But I hope that if I had to choose between my personal power and the well-being of the Conclave, I could pick the Conclave. So far, it’s been easy for me to say I would pick the Conclave. But I dread the temptation of picking myself. It would be easier. If nothing else, the executive council keeps me from having to make that choice.”

“Then I hope for your sake you never have to choose between one or the other,” Sorvalh said.

“Thank you, counselor,” Gau said. “I appreciate the thought. There’s little worse in life than a choice you suffer for. Whatever choice I would make in that situation, I would surely suffer, believe me.”

#

Colonel Dunn found General Rybicki alone in the conference theater, staring again at the projection of local space.

“You were right,” Dunn said. “I tried looking out the window at the stars. I couldn’t see a single one of them.”

“Well, they’re all here,” Rybicki said, waving dismissively at the display. “All the ones that matter, anyway. All the fucking stars with all the fucking intelligent races around them. Here they are, Colonel. Enjoy them.”

“I was going to ask you if you were all right,” Dunn said. “But I suspect I already know the answer to that.”

“I’m fine,” Rybicki said. “I may be slightly drunk and pissed off, however. I’m entitled.”

“There’s a chance they could change the strategy,” Dunn said. “General Szilard said that there was still some work to be done on the details.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Colonel,” Rybicki said. “Szilard is Special Forces. Special Forces are bred to be heartless sons of bitches. And he certainly did his job. The strategy is done. They’ll tweak here and there for maximum effect. But we’re moving forward, all right.”

“But it’s not just Special Forces on this,” Dunn said. “The Secretary of Defense signed off on it. So did the Secretary of Colonization. So did you.”

“Yes, I did,” Rybicki said. “I sure did. And I will tell you that when I did, I suddenly got religion. At that moment, Colonel, I became convinced there an afterlife, because I became stone cold aware that I was going to Hell.”

“General,” Dunn began.

“Thank you, Colonel, that will be all,” Rybicki said. “You’re dismissed. Go away.”

Colonel Dunn left. Rybicki turned his attention back to the display and watched the stars wheel around an arbitrary central axis.

“Goddamn Enrico Fermi,” Rybicki said, after a while. “Why couldn’t you have been right.”

***

The final book in the main Old Man’s War sequence, The Last Colony, is just out in paperback.

A “parallel”, YA friendly novel, Zoe’s Tale, is his newest hardcover.