Aircars had been landing all morning in the fields behind the tents. There were crowds of people everywhere, of course; the whole resort was crammed with ministers, analysts, and spin doctors. Corva might not have noticed the new arrivals yet.
“Either way,” he went on, “she has to catch us napping to get the upper hand. The government wants me to wake the whole planet just as she arrives—when she’s committed to landing her people but before she can consolidate her position. Then we’ll ask her to stand down.”
Corva shook her head violently, tossing beads of dew from her black mane. “You know I hate that idea. We should just run. We escaped her at Wallop.”
“Those sims don’t work, Corva. Any ship leaving Thisbe is going to blaze like a star. It’ll be easy to track. —Not that we shouldn’t send out a few decoys anyway. She’ll have to split off a few ships to follow them. But all of them will be caught.”
There was a mumbling murmur coming from up ahead, where the largest of the vaulting tent structures stood. Toby headed in that direction.
He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. “Anyway, what happens after we’ve had our showdown with Evayne? I’ve promised to restore Thisbe’s frequency, but as soon as I do that, the whole lockstep will know I’m back.”
“No no!” She stepped in front of him, putting a hand on his chest. “All we have to do is say it was Evayne who did it, while she was here! What’s she gonna do, deny it? It’s perfect!”
“And then what? She’ll be watching Thisbe, searching every ship that leaves. Even if we drive her away this time, she’ll just return with a bigger force.”
“Unless we defeat her and then escape.”
“She’ll just keep searching for us, wherever we go.” He gently took her hand and started walking again.
“There’s only one answer to that what-happens-next? question,” he said as he mounted the concrete platform where the edges of the giant tent were fixed. The murmuring was loud now, and Corva heard it. She snatched back her hand and stepped away from Toby, but only now did she see that the two of them weren’t alone anymore: a half circle of men and women stood silently on the path behind them, along with some McGonigal lockstep security bots. Hands clutched under her chin, sneaking looks left and right and behind her, Corva reluctantly followed Toby as he strode toward a sweep of tenting that formed a kind of archway.
“Don’t worry,” said Toby as he stepped into the dim space beyond, “there is another way.”
A spotlight pinioned them there, and within the vast space of the tent, a thousand people gasped and murmured and, just as the government ministers had done in front of Corva’s house, all bent their heads and knelt before the Emperor of Time.
He turned to reassure Corva further, but the look on her face froze him. He would never forget it.
“McGonigal!” Corva threw down the word like a curse.
Then she turned and ran.
Seventeen
“THE RULES OF A lockstep standoff are simple,” one of Thisbe’s generals had told Toby. “Wake before the other guy and capture him in his bed.”
“That’s it?” Toby asked.
“No. The more resources you have, the higher the frequency you can set for your troops—or the more troops you can keep awake on a rotating basis. The more you push this, the more it costs you. If you have to go all the way to realtime, and don’t sleep at all, then you’ve probably already lost.”
Toby stood on a stone balcony in one of Thisbe’s mountain fortresses, gazing out at a stunning vista of white-capped peaks and roiling clouds. The air was thin and bracingly cold.
In the valley below, Thisbe’s army was burying a bunker full of supplies. The whole planet had only enough food, energy and industrial capacity to stay awake for a few weeks. It was a lockstep world, its whole infrastructure based on the slow accumulation of resources during winter-over. Even with nanotech and orbital industries, there was no way they could stay in realtime for long. Soon, the entire world would have to sleep.
The jets screaming across the sky and the busy soldiers and bots in the valley were all trying to balance an equation whose terms weren’t all known. How long to sleep? That was what it all came down to. Everybody knew when Evayne’s ships would arrive, but that wasn’t the problem. Every day the Thisbe defense forces stayed awake in anticipation of her landing was a day’s rations used, a day’s energy. If Evayne was smart—and Toby knew she was—she wouldn’t stage a landing when she arrived. She would go to sleep and wait for a while. Six more months, a year. She would slumber, unassailable in far orbits, while Thisbe bled itself dry waiting up for her.
The defense forces had come up with a rotating watch that allowed them to keep a small standing army ready at all times. The problem was, it was small. Evayne had the advantage, and everybody knew it.
“You have quite the way with women,” somebody behind him said.
Toby turned to find Jaysir and Shylif standing by the metal doors that led to the mountain tunnel. “You made it!” Toby exclaimed. The generals hadn’t wanted to allow these two civilians—stowaways, no less!—to visit their precious bunkers. Toby had been insistent, but he hadn’t been sure until this moment that his stubbornness had done any good.
Shylif stepped forward and shook Toby’s hand. Jaysir grinned and slapped him on the back. Toby frowned into Shylif’s eyes. “How are you?”
“Actually … better than I expected.” He smiled, and there was a twinkle in his eye that hadn’t been there before. “Can’t say the same about Coley. But he’ll live.”
Toby nodded and shot Jaysir a guilty look. “Corva hates me. I know.”
Jaysir shrugged. “Well, you did the one thing she didn’t want you to do. You sold out to your legend. I’m actually kind of surprised that you called for us. You hardly need our help anymore, do you? You’ve got the whole planet to play with now.”
“Tactful as always, our Jay,” rumbled Shylif with a frown.
“So I didn’t live up to her expectations.” Toby looked away across the windswept valley. “The problem is, everybody has expectations. I had to decide who to disappoint, didn’t I?”
Shylif looked away, pensive. “That, I understand. But why did you ask us to come?”
“Two things, one of which Jay already knows about—” At that moment a call came through on Toby’s glasses. He held up a finger to Jay and Shylif, and turned away. “Hang on a sec. Yes?”
“Sir.” It was Long Seville, who as minister of security had been charged with the thankless task of planning the defense of Thisbe. “We’ve received a message from your sister. It’s for … well, it’s for you.”
He turned back to Jaysir and Shylif. “It’s Evayne. Can I have a moment? You know, family stuff.” Wide-eyed, the two backed away. Toby walked to the stone balcony and took a deep breath, bracing his hands on the cold granite. Okay. You can do this. He opened the message.
The woman who appeared, as if hovering in the air before him, could have been some long-lost aunt. She looked so much like Mom it was agonizing. Evayne was now older than Peter, or so the stories said, because she had changed her frequency so many times in the pursuit of state business. Still, she looked no more than thirty—an imperious queen in green robes, beautiful and terrible in her wrath.
“What the hell, Evie,” he muttered.
“To the people of the planet Thisbe,” she declared, “I give my greetings, and a warning. You will release to me that person who falsely claims to be my brother, the holy Emperor of Time, Toby McGonigal, Who Waits. Bring him to your seat of government, and I will descend to claim him in six months, realtime. If you resist, you will be destroyed.