Troy Rising 1 - Live Free or Die (57 page)

“Battlestation and Ark?” the admiral said. “I had wondered.”

“Don't sweat it,” Tyler said. “You've got enough to worry about with getting the station
up and running. But, yeah, it's an Ark. Let's hope we don't need it to fulfill its
secondary function.”

***

The Admiral hadn't mentioned steak and lobster.

Tyler was polite enough to return the favor and not mention that as a resident of New
Hampshire he knew the difference between good steak and lobster and the sort Yankee
traders sold to the US military.

“This is great,” Tyler said, tucking in.

“And just a little weird,” Commodore Pounder said. “I was an lieutenant commander when you
sold your first load of maple syrup to the Glatun. Thirteen years later we're eating
lobster on, face it, the Death Star.”

“So that raises a question,” Captain Sharp said. The Tactical Officer looked up and tilted
his head to the side. “No press present and we've all got security clearances. How long
were
you planning
Troy
?”

“Heh,” Tyler said, setting down his fork and wiping his mouth. “Since I was about nine. If
you mean seriously planning it? Since the Horvath came through the gate. I never in a
million years thought I'd be able to
do
it, mind you. And I didn't. A lot of
much
smarter people built this.”

“Still a very long way to go,” Colonel Helberg said, carefully cutting his lobster.
Ripping it apart was clearly a barbarian American custom. “Combining getting the military
side up and running with the ongoing construction has been an interesting chess game.”

“Infrastructure versus direct production,” Tyler said, resuming cutting the rather tough
sirloin. "It's been a juggling act the whole time I've been doing this. I mean, face it,
we've been at war with the Horvath since before I sold that first load of syrup. Figuring
out how much direct war material to produce versus infrastructure has been the juggling
act.

“Fortunately, we've figured out how to make the VLA mirrors out of material for which we
don't have much direct use. The rest is... tougher. Build fabbers or ships? If we build
the fabbers, now, we can build more ships later. We need ships
now
. We need mirrors now. Tugs or frigates? Tugs or launches? Granadica can produce one of
the
Myrmidons
a day. It takes two days to produce a
Paw
-style tug. The tugs have an infinite variety of uses.
Myrmidons
have utility but they're more focused. Speaking of which. Captain DiNote?”

“Sir?” the boats commander said, looking up.

“The
Myrmidons
can operate rather well as tugs,” Tyler said. “They only have about thirty percent of the
operational power but they have magnetic grapnels which are, face it, the same tractor
system as a tug. Just less powerful. You're probably going to get some requests for
assistance in... well construction if you will.”

“Doesn't bother me,” the captain said, nodding. “It will give my people some operating
experience.”

“If it's work on the
Troy
...” the admiral said, looking pensive. “I could see doing that. Direct commercial work...
?”

“I understand the problem,” Tyler said, smiling. “The flip side is that we'll be paying
you guys for the time. So your people get boat handling experience and the training time
gets paid for by my company. And we then triple bill the US government for it.”

“That is...” the admiral said, looking thoughtful.

“Reality,” Tyler said, chuckling. “And we get taxed on any profit we happen to make which
then goes to pay for the triple billing on the shuttles we're borrowing from the
government in the first place.”

“My head hurts,” Captain Sharp said.

“Hey,” Tyler said. “I'm not charging you for laser time. Be happy.”

“There is a charge for laser time?” Commodore Marchant said.

“Hmmm...” Tyler said, his mouth full. He cleared it with a sip of wine and wiped his mouth
again. "About a penny a megajoule last time I checked. That's for purely internal
charging, mind you.

"The SAPL is owned by a separate corporation from Apollo but they're both subsidiaries of
LFD. So we have an internal charge rate. SAPL upgrades and maintenance, even R&D and
overhead, and there's an
amazing
amount of overhead, get paid by charging for laser time.

"For external charging, cutting plates for the
Constitutions
and
Independence
, for example, the rate is about triple. That's standard, it covers overhead and secondary
charges as well as a slight profit. I know about it, but I don't really get involved
unless there's a dispute about charges between the different corporations. That's the sort
of thing I, alas, spend too much time having to manage. It's like any other for-profit
business. You have to find the price-point that will let you make the most money. Charge
too much and BAE or Raytheon either tries to get into competition or figures out ways to
not use our service. Charge too little and the SAPL corporation eventually goes out of
business and you guys will have to buy it and run it.

“I'd rather prefer someone else was in competition at some levels. I'd like to see what
other corporations would do with the same basic concept. And there are the usual
mutterings in Congress about a monopoly. Fortunately, we're not incorporated in the US so
they can't, technically, force me to break up SAPL or Apollo or any of the other places
I'm in a monopoly position.”

“You're not incorporated in the US?” Captain Sharp said, blinking rapidly.

“Nope,” Tyler said. “LFD is. Apollo, SAPL, Wolf and all the rest are all incorporated in
Tonga. We pay taxes as if we were an American corporation because most of the ground-side
facilities are in the US. And corporate charges in Tonga that aren't chump change. But by
being officially based in Tonga I avoid all sorts of hassles. No EPA telling me I can't
melt asteroids because it changes the space environment.”

“You're joking,” Captain Sharp said. “Tell me you're joking.”

“There is...” Tyler paused and shrugged. “
Was
a very active space environment movement. Humans have already raped the earth, they
shouldn't be allowed to rape space as well. I had to deal with them, somewhat, when I
first started mining. Their tendency to concentrate in certain geographic localities means
that the core of the movement is somewhat reduced.”

“Yeah,” the tactical officer said. “Like the joke about the Horvath targeting.”

“Excuse me?” Tyler said.

“Uhm...” the TACO said, looking uncomfortable. “Never mind.”

“The joke about Horvath targeting methods is that they only ever read one thing written by
a human,” the admiral said, since the silence had gotten uncomfortable. “Shakespeare's
admonition that the first thing we do is kill all the lawyers.”

“Hooo...” Tyler said, trying not to laugh. He'd noticed one time the statistic that the
occupation most reduced percentage wise by the Horvath attacks wasn't police or
firefighters or even secretaries, but members of the American Bar Association. “I guess
that's one of those forwards I deleted. But, ooo, that's
cold
.” He still couldn't help but chuckle.

“I guess you're not generally dialed in on such things,” Admiral Kinyon said, shrugging.
“But when the shock of the bombings and the plague finally wore off, it was laugh or cry
until the rivers were tears. I guess the height was about two years ago. I remember
because I was commanding the
Clinton
CVBG and my Chief of Staff was addicted to the things.”

“I suspect that could have been taken badly by some of the other officers,” Tyler said.
“Especially those who lost people in Diego.”

“His wife and three children were more or less dead center of the impact,” the admiral
said. “So nobody said anything about it. But every morning briefing he'd trot out the new
list. And then just before we made port in Perth he ate his .45. Which is why I know a lot
of bad jokes about the bombings and plagues and tend not to tell them.”

“Yes, sir,” Captain Sharp said. “Sorry, sir.”

“Not a problem, Captain,” the admiral said. “The term is
faux pas
. One of the purposes of social events like this are to find out each other's hot buttons.
Also to talk shop because no matter how many meetings you have all the information people
need doesn't get passed around.”

“Thank you for that explanation, Admiral,” Colonel Bolger said. The Marine colonel was
picking through the remnants of his lobster and didn't really look up. “I'd always
wondered. Since I was a JO I'd just sort of assumed it was so you'd feel like a whore in
church from time to time.”

Tyler spit out a glass of wine, half of which went up his nose. But it wasn't really
noticed as most of the group broke into relieved laughter.

“Are you quite well, Mr. Vernon,” Admiral Kinyon said, trying and failling to keep a
straight face.

“Fine,” Tyler gasped. “A little endive went down the wrong tube.” He coughed and cleared
the last of the wine then shook his head. “Ahem. But on the subject of talking shop...
Ah... Damn, I'm not sure if this is the right venue. It's about intel.”

“As Captain Sharp pointed out, most of us have appropriate clearances,” the admiral said,
shrugging. “And
Troy
is, to say the least, a fairly secure environment.”

“I passed on some intelligence to... uhm... higher?” Tyler said. “I'm just not sure if it
got to you guys even though you're the main group that should have it.”

“About?” Captain Sharp asked.

“Uh...” Tyler said. “Some ship traces in the Eridani system.”

“I'd wondered where that tidbit came from,” the admiral said, taking a sip of wine. “Yes,
we got it. I'll just add that there is some...” He paused and his head came up as if he
was listening to something.

The conversation slowly died away as, one by one, the officers all lifted their heads and
looked off into the distance. Tyler recognized the attitude. It was someone unused to
plants getting a...

“Mr. Vernon?” Argus said. “The Glatun free trader
Partan Crossing
just came through the gate on an unscheduled run. There is a Horvath fleet on in the E
Epsilon system.”

“How many?” Tyler commed, still picking at his lobster.

“Thirty
Devastator-
class Rangora battleships,” Argus said. “Nine Iquka battlecruisers and seven Odiqa
frigates.”

“Mr. Vernon,” the admiral said, setting down his fork and standing up. “A situation has
arisen...”

“Which is difficult,” Tyler said, taking a sip of wine. “We still can't close the door and
use the SAPL internally. We haven't even started the bypass systems. So you have to decide
whether to use it internally, and thus possibly protect the primary systems, or close the
door and protect the soft materials in the bay.”

“We're closing the door,” the admiral said. “And with that, we need to get to work.”

“So do I,” Tyler said. “Since you can't close it without my tugs. And even then it takes
some time. I need six, though.”

“Very well,” the admiral said. “Whatever you feel you need.”

“And you'll want to assign Captain DiNote's people to assist,” Tyler said. “I've already
sent the order to scramble the tugs to the plug.”

“My people are moving,” DiNote said.

“And so must I,” Tyler said.

***

“Nathan, you got the word about the Horvath fleet?”

“Got it,” Nathan said. “And I just lost all my tugs to closing the door.”

“Yeah,” Tyler said. “Except six. They're going to pull the slag from a bypass. Now.”

“We don't know when the Horvath are coming through,” Nathan protested. “You're going to
leave them out in the cold.”

“They're just machines, Nathan,” Tyler said. “We need a SAPL bypass put in,
now
. We've got the materials, right?”

“Yes,” Nathan said. “I'm moving the tugs into position...”

“Use the Ung beam.”

“Ung,” Nathan said. “I don't really think of that as a
construction
system. But if you say so.”

“Don't jog it,” Tyler said. “We'll back-fill or something later. Just drive it straight
into the bay.”

“Yes, master!” Nathan said in a deep baritone. “It shall be done!”

“Not a time for levity, Nathan,” Tyler said. “I've got other calls to make.”

***

“Dad?” Christy said. “Do you know what time it is?”

“I'm on Greenwich, honey,” Tyler said. “And I'd call, anyway. There's a corporate helo
headed to your condo. Get in it and go.”

“What's happening?” Christy said, trying to wake up. It was 4AM in Philadelphia and with
the latest team report turned in, she'd been partying. Waking up quick wasn't happening.

“Horvath,” Tyler said as the city alarms started going off. Her building had one of the
new air-raid sirens and it started shrieking fit to wake the dead or even terminally hung
over.

“Oh...” Christy said, grabbing her head. “Are you going to be...”

“I'm in a fortress,” Tyler said. “You're not. Just get in the helo and
go
!”

***

“We're getting full power transferred to Ung 14 now,” Nathan said.

“Let's be careful to avoid fratricide,” Tyler said. “We're probably going to lose enough
ships to the Horvath.”

Six tugs were arrayed by a single spot, not far from the closing door, on the surface of
Troy
.

The requirement was, hopefully before the Horvath came through the gate, to blast a hole
through the wall of
Troy
, clear away the melt during the burn, clean it of any debris left from the burn, install
sapphire collimaters in both ends and then get the hell out of dodge.

In essence, all that was needed was a standard laser tube, just oriented to the rear to
capture the power of the SAPL and feed it through
Troy
. The 'mouth' needed to be wide enough that it could be fed from well away from the area
of battle and systems needed to be in place to make sure the incoming beam or beams went
into the laser tube and didn't damage the surroundings. And they were planning to go
straight through because there didn't seem to be enough time to install all the crap for a
jog.