Troy Rising 1 - Live Free or Die (19 page)

“OW!”

“And pain mapping complete,” Louisa said, in a kindly tone. “There, that wasn't so bad,
was it?”

“Yes,” Tyler said, panting. It had felt as if he'd been dropped in hot oil and even though
the
sensation
was gone the
memory
of being dropped in hot oil was still right there reminding him this is what it feels
like to be dropped in hot oil. “That was bad. That was bad on toast.”

“Well, it really
was
for science,” Louisa said. “Now that we have one human mapped it won't be so bad for the
rest. We'll just have to check what the differences are and they'll be right and tight.
So... Now comes the invasive bit. You'd probably rather be out for this. Permission to put
you to sleep?”

“You have to ask for that but
not
to put a wire in my head?” Tyler said. “And put to sleep is an expression on my planet...”

“Anesthetize you so that you'll be unconscious through the rest of the procedure,” Cori
said. “No big deal. We just activate the sleep centers of your brain and then lock you
down so you can't wake up while we're rummaging.”

“I've done stranger things,” Tyler said, settling in. “I think. Okay, go ahead.”

“And we're going out in three, two, one...”

***

“What happened?” Tyler asked. “You guys started yet?”

“Done,” Cori said. The beetle was across the room cleaning some instruments. “That'll be
five and a quarter, please.”

“I don't feel any...” Tyler started to say. Then the tornado hit.

“VAGOG'S GARGOBOTS! GET 'EM WHILE THEY'RE...” “INTERGALACTIC COSMETICS ANNOUNCES... !”
“INTERSTELLAR SUPERDEALMART! INTERSTELLAR SUPERDEALMART!” “BIG BARGO'S BARGAIN BARN!”

“AAAAH!” Tyler screamed. His head was filled with images, most of them so alien he
couldn't even process them, as well as a string of seemingly random commercials. He
couldn't even hear himself think.

“Crap,” Cori said. “Louisa, put up a trans-block. I forgot he was getting his first
node-plant.”

“Ah...” Tyler said as the cacophony cut off. “That was...”

“You are going to have to learn how to control your implants, Mr. Vernon,” Louisa said.
“I'll adjust them so that they are dialed up to high protection. But if you want to be
able to fully and openly communicate you're going to have to learn how to filter.”

“And how, exactly, do I do that?” Tyler asked.

“It's a skill,” Louisa said. “The implants work interactively with your brain so the more
you use them for more different purposes the better you get. But you won't get the full
use until you start to grasp the full function of the implants. You are, at some point,
going to have to open up.”

“If you can... dial them up or down...” Tyler said. “I don't want people to have remote
access...” He suddenly realized he hadn't, in fact, opened his mouth. Just thought the
query. More like mused on it.

“
I
can,” Louisa said. “Here. While you are still a patient and in this room. Otherwise you
are quite well firewalled. Why would anyone use a system that was not secure? The first
thing you might want to be careful of is comming when you don't intend to.”

“Great,” Tyler said. Aloud. “I need to use these to buy some stuff. How do I... ?”

“You'll figure it out,” Cori said, dragging him out of the chair. “I've got another
customer coming in. Go play with them. Have fun. Good bye.”

Tyler found himself back in the disreputable service tunnel.

“Excuse me,” what he at first took to be a robot said. “You're blocking the door.”

“Sorry,” Tyler commed, standing aside. When the robot went through it was apparent it
either had a thing for Glatun hair down its back or it was a Glatun cyborg.

Tyler walked down the service tunnel quickly. Fortunately, other than a little blood,
there was no signs of the nonchalant gentle Glatun from earlier. As soon as he reached the
main corridor he looked around for a hypernet terminal but the only one was clearly broken.

“Crap,” Tyler said. “Taxi,” he said, thinking at his implants. “I need a taxi.”

“Itthe cab,” a voice responded.

Voices in my head. Great.

“Hi, I need a cab to take me to my lodgings,” Tyler said. “I'm not sure of my location,
but I'm near Kulo's...”

“Dispatched,” the voice replied. “Two minutes.”

“Thanks,” Tyler said. There was a distinct... feeling of the communication being cut off.

“Well,” he muttered. “That worked.”

“Hey, buddy, can you spare a credit for a veteran?”

Tyler looked at the rubbish besmeared Glatun and shrugged.

“I can, I just don't have a way to do it,” Tyler said. “Sorry.”

“That's okay, man,” the bum said, then wandered off.

“The more things change,” Tyler said as the cab pulled up. It was pretty much the same as
the last one. Come to think of it, the green stain on the cover...

“Hey, Tyler!” the cab said, dropping the canopy. “You waiting for me to get stole or
something?”

“Not at all,” Tyler said, dropping into the cab.

“Where to?” the cab asked, pulling out without waiting for the information.

“I've got it here, somewhere,” Tyler said, pulling out a piece of paper. He cleared his
throat. “The Ghozhozizpilhowacxashaphiq... This is worse than a Hawaiian name...
cawobeyxolegul...”

“The Ghoz,” the cab said. “No problem.”

“What does the name mean?” Tyler asked as the cab pulled into one of the transport...
elevators?

“Big Nice Hotel,” the cab replied.

“In
Glatun
?”

“Oh, no. Course not. That's in Ogutorjatedocifazhidujon... That's enough. They're sort of
this arm's main hospitality race. Call 'em the Ogut.”

“Oh,” Tyler said. “We really don't know much about the species in this region. We got an
initial download from the first Glatun we encountered but it's so large and so poorly
indexed... Google's still working on it.”

“You need to get some plants,” the cab said.

“I just did,” Tyler said. “I'm still trying to figure out how to use them.”

“You'll get used to it,” the cab said as the door to the... transport box? opened. It
whisked out into a corridor that was well lit and lined with what looked to be upscale
shops. Well-dressed Glatun and a variety of other species more or less packed it. The cab
had to move slowly.

In about three minutes they pulled up before an ornate fa�ade resembling, of all things,
the front of a tomb.

“The Ghoz,” the cab said. “That's three credits.”

“Authorized,” Tyler said. The canopy popped down and he climbed out. “I guess if I call
for a cab, I'm probably going to get you. Which is fine.”

“As long as I'm available and not too far off,” the cab said. “Have a nice day Mr. Vernon.”

Two of the big sauroids, in a sort of quasi-military uniform, flanked the double doors of
the hotel. Tyler contemplated them for a second and the word 'Rangora' flashed into his
head. He instantly knew the general outline of their territory in the galaxy and, as he
probed a bit more, their strategic relationship, competitive neutrality, with the Glatun.
They were considered slightly lower technologically advanced, aggressive and
expansionistic. Individually, within the Glatun Federation, they tended to work in menial
jobs that required more strength than smarts.

“Do you need help with your bags, sir?” one of the Rangora asked.

“Uh, no,” Tyler said. “They were sent ahead.”

He'd had to send more than bags. There were no foods known in the Federation that humans
could consume. Since the 'milk run' Gorku Corporation freighter only ran once every
thirty-two days he had to be prepared to stay a
long
time so he'd included in cold storage three month's rations. Since the Glatun could,
somehow, inhibit any degradation in organic materials, 'rations' meant a very choice
selection of foods. He wouldn't be surviving on MREs but he would have to cook for
himself. That was okay, though, cause he was a pretty good cook.

He was planning on being on Glalkod station for some time. He had to get more information
about the Glatun before he could progress to the next stage of his plans. Earth needed
Glatun technology but he wanted to figure out how to
learn
Glatun technology. He didn't want Earth constantly dependent on the Glatun. The close
call over maple syrup had convinced him that Earth needed to be technologically and
strategically independent of the Glatun to the greatest possible extent. Not to mention he
was looking forward to kicking some Horvath butt.

The same thought had occurred to most Earth governments. But the fact was, until there was
more to trade with the rest of the Galaxy, he was in the strange position of having more
available credit to
do
something about the disparity than any five earth governments. And since most of it was
banked, and traded, off-planet, it was remarkably hard to tax.

If he had the choice of turning over his credit balance to Washington to do something or
doing it himself... He'd take his chances.

“Checking in, sir?” the Rangora asked, opening the door.

“Yes,” Tyler said. He thought 'Ten credit tip' and the Rangora tipped his helmet at him.

“Thank you much, sir.”

“No problem,” Tyler said, walking through the doors.

“Mr. Vernon. A pleasure to have you in the house.”

The speaker was a meter long caterpillar. That was about as far as Tyler could get. Unlike
caterpillars it had large, mobile, antennae. But it was still more or less caterpillar
shaped, its skin patterned in a wild array of colors.
I'm talking to a psychedelic caterpillar
.

“Yes I am, Mr.... ?”

“Chuphosh Yaph Mufup Phexigh Chugh Thogab Neyuch Peh Toshash Ghutoch Zizh Lhinosh,” the
caterpillar said. “Most sophonts call me Chup. Welcome.”

“Thank you,” Tyler said.

“Your room has been prepared,” Chup said. “If you would follow me?”

The main lobby was large and ornate. Tyler wasn't sure what most of the metals, woods and
cloth were, but they looked expensive.

When he'd gone on the hypernet he'd searched for a good hotel on Glalkod station that
could handle multiple species. He'd apparently found more than good. He wasn't sure he
wanted the expense of staying somewhere like this for as long as he contemplated staying.
He could afford it, but he had a lot of stuff to buy and no real idea of the costs.

Chup led him to what Tyler figured was an elevator. There was the usual absolute lack of
sense of movement and it opened on a large room.

“Four rooms,” Chup said. “Bedroom, bathing room, sitting room, kitchen. Adjustable grav
beds. Extensible grav bed in the couch in case you entertain company. Usual suite of
entertainment devices.”

“I'm still learning how to use implants,” Tyler said, walking across what he presumed was
the sitting room to what could be either the bathroom or the bedroom. As he half expected,
the door didn't open.

“Why don't I just leave all the doors open until you're more comfortable,” Chup said,
dilating the door.

The room was a bedroom. And it looked about like any hotel bedroom he'd ever seen except
for the bed which was...

“That's sort of odd,” Tyler said.

The bed appeared to be two pieces of glass suspended in mid-air.

“I'm sure you will find it quite comfortable,” Chup said. “It's adjusted to your surface
gravity. The lighting is adjusted to near natural sunlight. And while we had a bit of
trouble with some of your bathing arrangements, I think you'll find those in order.
Furthermore, we have a cookbot programmed with a variety of earth dishes if you prefer to
use room service or visit one of our several first quality dining facilities.”

“Thank you,” Tyler said.

“We aim to please,” the caterpillar said. “We admit that learning the needs of a new
species are always challenging, but we do our level best. We were unable to successfully
design concubine bots but...”

“No problem,” Tyler said, thinking 'High tip.'

“Thank you very much, Mr. Vernon,” the caterpillar said. “If there's anything else?”

“Not that I can think of right now,” Tyler said. “I'll just... relax.”

“Since you are still getting acquainted with your implants and the conditions,” Chup said,
“I can set our AI to monitor. That way if you need anything you can simply ask. Nothing,
of course, will be released about such monitoring. We are very strict about our guests'
privacy.”

“Please,” Tyler said.

“And I will leave you to your relaxation,” the caterpillar said, wriggling out of the room.

Tyler stretched out on the oddly shaped but surprisingly comfortable couch and intertwined
his fingers behind his head. Since getting on the tramp freighter in Manchester twenty
hours ago he hadn't really had a chance to relax.

Manchester, NH, was coming on to being Earth's biggest spaceport much to everyone's
surprise. Unlike Burlington, it had suffered little damage in the war and was central to
several major maple production areas. Since Earth was still only trading maple syrup, that
meant that was where the traders landed.

The Horvath had geeked to giving up the maple syrup but they were bound and determined, to
the point of battle, to hold on to the heavy metal mines in Russia and South Africa. The
Canadian production areas overlapped the maple regions so production from that area was
still under negotiation. And they'd raised the subject of the metals Tyler's company was
starting to extract from asteroids. Their position was that they owned all heavy metals in
the Sol system. Since sovereignty can be defined, at bottom, as 'might makes right', they
were standing on firm legal ground. Tyler's position was that they owned it as long as
they could keep it. He intended to end that condition very soon.

He decided it was about time to figure out this implant thing and just thought about the
Horvath.

Instantly, information started flooding in. It wasn't overwhelming but it was complete and
organized more or less as he needed it. He realized that the system was not only
responding to his forefront thoughts but lower-level concepts. The information, since he
was mostly worried about the Horvath as a threat, was concentrated around their strategic
position in the galactic region, military and industrial capability and resources. It was
neither more than he could absorb nor was it scattered. He wasn't even sure exactly where
the information was coming from. He could see why Earth's firewalls would look a bit like
'looking through an open window.' You just thought about what you wanted to know and there
it was.