INTRODUCTION
The seeds for this anthology were sown many years ago, some time in the early 1990s. Jim Baen was writing an editorial letter to one of our authors, Keith Laumer. Keith had asked what Jim would like to see next. Another Retief novel? Perhaps something more serious? This is what Jim wrote:
“New Novel: Absolutely. As I said only somewhat coherently over the phone, this time I would like something that hints at the profound erudition possessed by the author and is driven by a plot imbued with the deepest philosophical insight into the essential tragedy of the human condition as it is and places it in the most bathetic contrast to what could, in a better world, be our birthright. Something with scope. Something with sentient tanks.”
And as I was but a mere editorial assistant at the time, it was my duty to file this letter. I saw it, made a copy of this section for myself, and it has lived on a bulletin board within a glance of my desk in every office I’ve occupied since then.
“Something with scope. Something with sentient tanks.” We probably should have put that on Jim’s headstone (may he rest in peace). Such delightful words.
In August of 2019 I made mention of this quote on social media, and the other two quotations that I have posted on that same bulletin board. The first of these is from the New York Times Book Review: “As someone has since put it, mankind’s most deeply held need is not to obtain food, clothing or shelter or to preserve the species but to change someone else’s copy.” And, as quoted in John Hertz’s Vanamonde, from W. Fowler, Modern English Usage: “To have to depend on one’s employer’s readiness to take the will for the deed is surely a humiliation that no decent craftsman should be willing to put up with.”
But it was Jim’s words that sparked the imagination, not surprisingly. And so, from that discussion, sprang this anthology. My thanks to Lou Berger for taking the idea and running with it, and to Tony Daniel and Christopher Ruocchio for helming this volume of original stories about things that can break worlds and mend hearts.
The thing is, Keith Laumer did possess profound erudition, and did have insight into the essential tragedy of the human condition. That’s what made that editorial direction so exciting; Keith had actually written such works.
You can find the biographical details online, but Laumer had served in the Army Air Corps in WWII, went to university in Sweden, finished his degree in architecture from the University of Illinois, went back into the Air Force, twice, and in between tours served as a member of the Foreign Service in Burma.
When he wrote military science fiction in the Bolo series or spoofed the pretensions of diplomats in the Retief series, he knew whereof he wrote. And it showed. His work did and does resonate with readers. The tragedy of Laumer’s life was that, according to those who knew him, his personality changed after he had a stroke in 1971. But he was a stubborn man, and he continued to write up until his death in 1993.
And we at the Baen office knew him well—he called frequently, and while we never met him, we all felt close to him. And tried to support him long distance—we were in New York City, he in his house in Florida surrounded by his beloved Cougars (the cars, not the beasts)—as best we could. He was not an easy man in those post-stroke years, but we, his typist Deane Fetrow, and the local SF community by way of the Haldemans (Jack, Joe, Gay et al.) were able, I think, to make his final years if not easy, at least easier than they could have been.
And here, we hope, you will find the spirit of Keith Laumer living on, in these original stories, inspired by Jim Baen’s words.
—Toni Weisskopf, March 2021