Troy Rising 1 - Live Free or Die (5 page)

“Rare and costly viands from the four corners of the earth,” Tyler said, cheerfully.
“You'll understand if I don't get into exactly
what
rare and costly viands.”

“Of course,” Wathaet said as Tyler started unloading. “Bring them up in the ship. I've set
up a table and some chairs. It occurred to me after we made this agreement that I was
placing myself in trade against the writer of
TradeHard
. I'm not sure that's a good idea.”

“Those who can do, those who can't write,” Tyler said, pulling out a set of trays with
Dixie cups on them. The Dixie cups had been the most expensive part. “I've really got no
experience of this sort of thing. Even if we find something I'm pretty sure I'm going to
get screwed. I have prepared two hundred and twenty three different possible trade items
for your examination. Each of them is of the highest possible quality and chosen from some
of the rarest and most sought-after substances on Earth.”

“You're behind on your cellphone bill and your ex is still looking at the e-mail she
hasn't sent about being behind on your child support payment,” Wathaet said, taking out a
small hand scanner and starting to scan the cups. “I'm pretty sure that these are from the
tossed out trash in the stockroom of your store. But it's not under surveillance or in
inventory so I'm not positive.”

“Bastard,” Tyler muttered, setting the cups down on the table. It looked to be some sort
of polymer and was sort of scratched and worn. For that matter the small... hold he
supposed was beat to hell. “I hate it when people know more about my life than I do.”

“Like I said,” Wathaet said, “it's like not trying to look through an open window.
Nothing, nothing, poisonous as hell which is interesting...”

“What's that?” Tyler asked.

“Thirty-seven.”

“Wow. If we ever do get into regular trade with your people, don't ever
ever
accept a Coke.”

“Thought that was what it was,” Wathaet said. “We'd been warned. And our implants can
process it. Would only make us mildly ill. This one is interesting. Not for us. It's
compatible to Rangora systems. Not sure what it would taste like to them.”

As he was scanning he was picking up and sniffing anything that wasn't registering as
toxic. He paused with one and set down his scanner. His snout practically turned inside
out as he gave a long sniff. The mane that ran down his back stood up like a startled cat.

“This smells...” Wathaet said, carefully dipping a finger into the tarry substance. He
took a small taste and rolled it around in his mouth. “This is...”

Suddenly he drove his snout into the cup and began licking frantically.

“You okay?” Tyler asked, worriedly.

“Yeah,” Wathaet said. His tone wasn't muffled because he wasn't actually opening his
mouth. But it should have been because his snout, which was just a bit too wide, had
ripped open the Dixie cup and was covered in a brown-tarry substance. A long, purple
tongue emerged and began licking the substance off. “What
is
this stuff?”

On the long shot, which seemed to be playing out, that something would be compatible and
interesting to the Glatun, Tyler had put the various foodstuffs into the cups and marked
then with numbers. That way only he knew what they were. The '156' was barely visible
since it had been ripped.

“Huh,” Tyler said, consulting a hand-written list. “Dragon's Tears.
Figured
it would be that.”

“What is Dr.... Wha-buh... Wheeeeeeeeeeet.” The Glatun shook his head and opened his
mouth.
“Garglaaafawwowluple?”

“What is Dragon's Tears?” the collar transmitter asked.

“Did you just
speak
Glatun?” Tyler asked.

“More or less,” Wathaet said, shaking his head. “I couldn't handle my plants for a second.
That stuff has a
kick
! I think we might be onto a winner here. What is Dragon's Tears? It's not anywhere on
your information systems.”

“Tears of a Dragon,” Tyler said. “Nearly impossible to get, very rare and almost secret.
You have to make a dragon laugh and cry to get them. First you have to tell a dragon ten
jokes it's never heard before. If you tell it one joke it's heard you have to start over
again. And you'd better tell them fast and well or it will eat you. If you make it through
that, then you have to tell it ten sad stories that make it cry. When it starts to cry you
dash forward and catch the tears.”

“You are such a liar,” Wathaet said. “First of all, dragons are a legend like the trakal
of my people. Second, if something was that rare and costly you couldn't afford it. Third,
all my instruments say that this came from a plant.”

“True, but it's going to make great marketing,” Tyler said.

“You got any more?” Wathaet said, contemplating the empty cup with slumped shoulders.
“Seriously, this is
really
good. Who knew?”

“I've got some more,” Tyler said. No cameras that could see in the truck bed. “But,
seriously, I do need some trade for it. I'll get some more out of the back of the truck
and we'll trade.”

***

When Tyler got back there wasn't one Glatun but three clustered around the table. He'd
brought a squeeze bottle and some Dixie Cups.

“Why don't we try mixing it with a little water,” Tyler said. “I don't have enough to fill
these cups. I'm thinking... hundred weight of atacirc per weight of tears.”

“You've got to be joking!” one of the Glatun snapped. They pretty much looked alike but
this one had a longer snout than Wathaet and darker blue skin.

“Hey, Tyler,” Wathaet said, the collar transmitter faithfully replicating his slur. “Meet
Drath. He's the purser. Han'les all the... cargo an' stuff. An' Fabet's a eng... enga...”

“Ship's engineer,” Fabet said, leaning forward. “So what is this stuff?”

“Dragon's Tears,” Tyler said, squirting a generous measure into a cup and handing it to
the purser. If he was reading things right the purser was going to be the guy he needed as
hammered as possible for the negotiations. “Very rare and precious.”

“Not worth a hundred weight of circuitry,” Drath said, taking a sniff. It was the same
reaction as before. Light sniff, heavy sniff, nose dive. “Whoooooooo!”

“Guys,” Tyler said, filling cups. “This stuff really
is
expensive. Slow down!”

“Here,” Wathaet said, reaching into a pocket. “You guys like this crap. It's trash but it
is better than your trash.” He rolled a handful of atacirc onto the table and waved. “Keep
it. Go' anymore?”

Tyler carefully scooped up the fortune in circuitry and poured some more 'Dragon's Tears'
in the captain's cup.

“Goorbol computers on this planet,” Fabet slurred. He'd had about three ounces total.
“Total trash. Go' tha' stuff for scrap! Is scrap! Hah! Is, like, hundred years old! Hah!
Is good stuff, this.”

“Shhhhhh...” Drath whispered, waving a hand around. “Shhhhh... Humans can' know that!
Think i's... kala stones or something.” He appeared to sneeze several times.

“So... Drath,” Tyler said, neutrally. “This appears to have some trade value. It is, as I
said, a very rare and costly viand on this planet. I think a hundred weight to one is
perfectly reasonable.”

“Me too!” the engineer said. “Stuff will sell for bazillion credits on Glalkod station!”

“Shhhh!” Drath said. “Shhhhh! Well, Mr. Vernon,” he continued, straightening his harness,
“this does seem to have some merit as you shay. But not gr... great and atacirc is, also,
very rare and costly...”

“Your engineer just said you bought it for scrap,” Tyler said.

“
Scrap!
And we're gonna get
rich
!”

“He exaggerates. I think that a rate of fifty weight of this... Dragon's Tears to one
weight of molycirc would be more in order...”

***

“So... two weight of atomic level circuitry to one weight of Dragon's Tears,” Tyler said.
“We have a deal?”

“I dunno,” Fabet said. “You got anymore?”

“I think that is a fair trade,” Drath said, slowly and distinctly. His head twitched
several times rapidly.

“How do your people finalize such things under your laws and are they considered binding?”
Tyler asked.

“Tha's a little complicated...” Wathaet said.

“Binding contract shall be established by verbal confirmation of all parties in the
presence of a Federally authorized contracting hypernode system,” Drath quoted clearly.
“All trade ships as well as banks and public places of consumption are required by law to
have such locked systems present for the closure of contracts and such contracts are
considered both proprietary and binding reference Federal Code
One-One-Four-Seven-Nine-Eight-Three-L-Q-Five. Something like that.”

“So, you guys agree verbally and you're bound?” Tyler asked.

“Try to get a judge out here,” Fabet said. “Or, and this is an important point, a
commercial authorities seizure party.”

“Shhhh...” Drath said. “Are you in agreement or not?”

“I dunno,” Tyler said, woefully. “I'm feeling like you guys are going to screw me somehow.
You've got the ship and all.”

“We're not going to screw you, man,” Wathaet said, waving a cup. “We're buddies.”

“Okay,” Tyler said, mournfully. “I'm practically giving this stuff away but if that's as
much as you'll go... I agree to two weights of atacirc for one weight of the substance
designated Product One-Five-Six, nickname Dragon's Tears.”

“Hah!” Drath crowed. “You're bound now, baby!”

“Agreed!” Wathaet said. “Feeling screwed?”

“Very,” Tyler said, his shoulders slumping.

“You should,” Drath said, taking a sip of the now watered down Dragon's Tears. “We're
going to get rich with this stuff. How much can you get.”

“It
is
actually fairly rare,” Tyler said. “And the real problem is the Horvath.”

“They're not going to interfere with our trade,” Wathaet said. “They know better than to
mess with a Glatun ship.”

“No, they won't,” Tyler said. “But I can't get my hands on a full cargo of this right
away. And if they find out what you're trading, they'll come and take it. If they can
because it's a lot harder to obtain than mining for stuff. War. Destruction. No Dragon's
Tears.”

“Point,” Wathaet said, his crest fluttering. “So we smuggle it out.”

“Good thing you're dealing with us, then,” Fabet said.

“Look, it was only
once
, okay?” Drath said. “People act like I made a career out of it!”

“The Horvath own our communications,” Tyler said. “And even if you can hack them...
They're going to be paying attention to anyone who meets with you guys.”

“Point,” Wathaet said. “But
we
can disappear easily enough.”

“You can?” Tyler said.

“To them, yeah,” Drath said. “There's an open field which doesn't have much observation
near your home. Meet us there... When can you get more of this.”

“Tell you what,” Tyler said, thinking rapidly. “I'll bring as much Dragon's Tears as I can
fit in the back of my truck. I can trade this atacirc for... I should be able to afford
that much. The stuff really
is
expensive. You guys fill the back with atacirc and we're golden. You sure you can spoof
the Horvath.”

“Yeah,” Wathaet said, more clearly. “Even if they're paying attention to you, they won't
see you leave your house. We'll try to make sure they don't know what you're picking up.”

“And you'll forgive me if I point out I'm going to try to keep
you
from finding out,” Tyler said. “I can probably get it by Tuesday night.”

“Tuesday night at nine PM,” Drath said. “It's called Homer's Farm. But there's no farm
there.”

“Long story,” Tyler said. “Okay, I'll be there. Two weights to one. I'm being screwed.”

“Great,” Fabet said. “You're gonna bring more, right?”

***

As Tyler drove out of the industrial park he carefully pulled his cellphone out and set it
on the dash where it could easily pick up his voice.

“Well
that
was a bust! What the hell am I going to do for money
now
? Those stupid aliens! Damn Glatun! Laughing at me! Like they really liked the sketch.
Bastards. What am I going to do now? Maybe Jeff Morris over at AT&T has got some
consulting work? Since I'm in Boston, might as well check.”

He felt like an idiot. But if he was going to get his hands on a truckload of Product 156
by tomorrow night he'd better hurry.

He kept a glare on his face as he fought his way through Boston traffic and tried very
hard not to break out in gales of hysterical laughter.

***

“Hey, Tyler. Long time.”

Tyler and Jeff Morris weren't exactly friends, they just knew each other. Both had started
off in the industry about the same time. They'd worked together a couple of times in
different companies. Sometimes they were competitors. A couple of times
while
working for the same company. IT was like that.

Right now, though, Jeff Morris wasn't looking exactly pleased to see his old acquaintance.
Jeff had managed to not only survive when so many had fallen, he'd finally worked his way
into an office, which in IT generally meant he could make hiring decisions. And he
probably had every guy he'd ever sort of talked to at COMDEX begging for a slot. Any slot.

“Hey, Jeff. You mentioned that you had a project called Babylon you were working on and I
might be interested,” Tyler said, sitting down an picking up a yellow pad. He'd looked for
cameras on the way in and the only one was on the monitor and it was pointed at Jeff.

“Babylon?” Jeff said, puzzled.

“Yeah,” Tyler said, not looking up. “Had to do with a lass.” He held up the pad which said
in great big letters: SECURE ROOM! NOW!!!!

“Babylon!” Jeff said, slapping his forehead. “Sorry, we'd changed the project name.
It's...” He paused and looked around for inspiration. “SeeFid! It's called SeeFid now. But
it's really secure. We'd probably better talk in a shield room.”

***

“SeeFid?” Tyler said as soon as he was sure the room was secure.

“
C++ for Idiots
,” Jeff said. “It was a book on the wall. And you've got a lot of nerve making fun of
that. A Lass Babylon? Jesus Christ. How did you even know I'd read that book?”