Troy Rising 1 - Live Free or Die (29 page)

“Which are about ten percent as efficient as Glatun plates,” Dr. Givens said. “Same
materials. Same dimensions. But we can't form stator bearings no matter how hard we try.
Again, something fundamental is escaping us. So we had to resort to other methods.”

“Not steel I hope,” Tyler said.

“The plates are more powerful the faster they rotate,” Dr. Givens said. “They also apply
power against each other. The best steel ball bearings will not handle the loads or the
speed of even a very minor grav plate. We used magnetic bearings.”

“Which are great for high speeds,” Astro interjected. “And lousy for load.”

“And there are very high loads,” Dr. Givens. “It is not true that the full mass of the
system is loaded on the grav plates. Worse than that, it is logarithmic. At low mass there
is relatively low loading. As the mass increases, the loading increases exponentially
until you approach full loading. The drive plates for a ship, which are essentially a form
of not particularly strong bronze, have to be able to withstand almost the full delta-V of
driving the mass.”

“Ouch,” Tyler said, wincing. Pushing a ship at, say, ten gravities was exactly like
lifting ten ships against earth's gravity. Putting that on some plates of bronze supported
by magnetic bearings... didn't seem like a good idea.

“With stator bearings, the loading is spread,” Dr. Givens said. “Without them, it is not.
We have not found a way around this impasse. We are experimenting with multiple magnetic
bearings.”

“Can we lift any sort of ship?” Tyler asked.

“Yes,” Astro said. “We can get the ship to lift. And move around. But there's more.”

“Yes,” Dr. Givens said, tapping the balls of her fingers against each other. Hard. “More.
And more. You see, the last issue is very nearly a deal breaker. That is the issue of
gravitic interaction.”

“Hmmm?” Tyler said, noncomitally. It had all seemed so straightforward.

“I personally hate this analogy but it works,” Dr. Givens said. “Think of a grav plate as
a wind machine. It can pull you down, it can push you up.”

“Okay,” Tyler said.

“Now think of multiple wind machines, all keeping you from floating away,” Dr. Givens said.

“Oh,” Tyler said. “You'd get... turbulence.”

“Yes,” Dr. Givens said, smiling slightly. “And then throw in systems to keep you from
being crushed when the ship is maneuvering. More turbulence. Then throw in the drive.
Huge
turbulence. I
used
to have a head of very full hair, Mr. Vernon.”

“Oh,” Tyler said, wincing. “Did you... ?”

“I managed to tear it free,” Dr. Givens said. “At the scalp. It was, fortunately, only a
small portion.”

“It got pushed into a ball and not quite ignited,” Astro said. “More like... compressed
into pure carbon.”

“I'm sorry for your pain,” Tyler said, wincing again. “I'd really rather not have that
happen on a ship.”

“So would we,” Mr. Gnad said. “The liabilities would be...”

“Astronomical?” Tyler said. “Sorry, shouldn't try to lighten the mood. So is there an
answer to that?”

“Yes,” Dr. Givens said. “Theoretically. Dr. Eichholtz?”

“The answer is very fine management of the grav plates,” Dr. Eichholtz said. “Very fine,
continuous, automated, continually feed backed management which has a full and complete
understanding of gravitic interactions.”

“That sounds...” Tyler said. “I won't say impossible, because both the Glatun and the
Horvath manage it. But it does sound like a lot of code. And theory. And development.”

It had all seemed so simple.

“We managed to get a look at the code in the fabber you loaned us,” Dr. Eichholtz said.
“One thing that sprung out was that the Glatun are not, in fact, very good coders. There
was a tremendous amount of junk code. Running as high as ten percent.”

“Are you sure its junk?” Tyler said. “I mean...”

“Mr. Tyler,” Dr. Eichholtz said, shrugging. “I won't try to convince you. But we know
code. And much of it is junk. It appears to be copies of copies with legacy and remnant
code scattered throughout, much of it having nothing to do with fabber operations, per se.
There are repeated code sequences in multiple strings that have no function. It's junk. I,
frankly, don't think the Glatun
code
, per se. I think they reuse legacy codes and chop, paste and occasionally alter to fit.”

“That... wouldn't surprise me,” Tyler said. “But their code
works
.”

“We don't have a ship code designed for this ship,” Dr. Eichholtz said. “And then there is
the question of how much code a fabber, with relatively simple gravitic interaction
issues, has in it.”

“How much?”

“Six hundred and twenty seven
billion
strands,” Dr. Eichholtz said. “Much of it having to do with gravitic interaction
management.”

“Ouch,” Tyler said.

“The F-22 flight management computer has sixteen million by comparison,” Astro said. “And
it took five years to develop. And was buggy as hell even then.”

“We're talking orders of magnitude,” Tyler said. “And you've managed to get a ship off the
ground at all? I'm impressed.”

“It does not fly well,” Dr. Eichholtz said, shrugging. “But it flies. Sort of.”

“Astro?” Tyler said.

“I'm the test pilot,” Astro said. “Because I've got plants. With the plants, and what we
know about gravitics, and some intuitive seat of the pants driving, I can get it up and
down without breaking it. And that is what I can get it to do. Go up. Go down. Without
killing myself or anybody in the hangar.”

“Can you get it to fly one hundred yards?” Tyler asked, grinning.

“No,” Astro said, solemnly. “I tried. I got about twenty before it went into an out of
control condition and crashed from about ten feet up.”

“Ten feet's not bad,” Tyler said, shrugging. “Better than ten thousand.”

“And then two of the plates gave way and shredded the Mark One,” Gnad said. “Which is why
we're now on the Mark Two.”

“Oh,” Tyler said. “Okay. I promise not to make any more complaints about how long it's
taking.”

“There's more,” Gnad said. “Dr. Asaro
has
shown an ability to manage the gravitics. Due to his implants.”

“So get some people planted,” Tyler said, shrugging. “It's more or less a requirement to
drive anything in space.”

“While the price in credits does not appear high,” Gnad said, “given the exchange rate,
getting an employee implants is extremely costly. Costly enough that it is considered out
of the question by Boeing
and
the US government.”

“I wasn't aware that the government was involved in this project,” Tyler said. “So what
you're saying is you want me to pay for some pilots to get plants?”

“In... Yes,” Gnad said. “It appears to be the only way to get this project moving again.
Absent either a breakthrough in programming or a breakthrough in theory. We're... grounded
until we can get another pilot with implants.”

“You're grounded
with
a pilot with implants,” Tyler said.

“We think we might be able to get two guys to sync together,” Astro said, shrugging. “If
we can get some characteristics and data on the grav problem we might be able to crack it.
If by no other means than hacking some code from the fabber.”

“We already have done that to an extent,” Dr. Eichholtz said, shrugging. “I will admit we
cleaned it up as much as we could.”

“How many?” Tyler said. “My own off-planet credits are not unlimited.”

“Three,” Gnad said. “Two sets of two pilots.”

“In case we lose one set,” Astro said. “Those grav plates coming loose really
did
turn the thing into hamburger. I very nearly was the wet organic part.”

“I'll have to consult some people,” Tyler said. “It's a big expense and I'm not sure how
much the IRS will let me deduct. If I took it at exchange rate... I wouldn't pay taxes for
the rest of my
life
. If the US government has gotten its camel nose under the tent, point out to them that
I'm footing a big part of the bill and the bill just got huge. Er. Let's not even
talk
about the fact that I supplied the power plant. So you'd better shake some trees, and
Congressmen, before I go paying for implants. Agreed?”

“We'll... do what we can,” Gnad said.

“If we're dependent on plants for pilots, this is a problem the government is going to
have to face,” Tyler said. “Which means they'll probably start trying to tax the crap out
of me. While
I'm
trying to pour all my money into infrastructure that they're not working on and won't no
matter how much money they get. There's a windfall profits bill in Congress aimed straight
at me and the rest of the maple syrup holders. Tell your contacts that the minute it
passes, I'm
out
of this project and I'll just buy my ships from the Glatun. And we humans will stay
grounded until the government figures out to spend the money on stuff like this and not
crap. Clear?”

“Clear,” Gnad said, nodding. “If it's any help, I agree with you.”

“So now that I'm all pissed off,” Tyler said, smiling. “Let's sweeten me up by taking a
look at the ship.”

“Right this way,” Steve said, leading Tyler out of the briefing room and down the hallway.
“I'll warn you it won't look quite like what you expected.”

“I'm not sure what I expect,” Tyler said. “Flying saucer? Helot transport?”

It didn't look like he expected. It looked like...

“It looks like an SR-71 with the wings and engines missing,” Tyler said, looking at the
ship.

“Boeing figured that if it had to do reentry, aerodynamic was good,” Steve said, neutrally.

“This does not look like a test-bed for a shuttle, Steve,” Tyler said, angrily. “This is a
test-bed for a
space fighter
!”

“All the basic design parameters are the same,” Steve said. “We're still figuring out how
to make anything. Fighter, shuttle, it's all the same basic problems.”

“Let me guess which department of the government paid in?” Tyler said, walking to the
front of the bird. “I thought so. This thing isn't even a
ship
. It's a ship wrapped around a
gun
, Steve! I suppose Dr. Givens figured out just enough about gravitic interactions to make
a grav drive, didn't she?”

“God damnit, Tyler,” Steve said. “Yes, so it's a God damned fighter! And, yes, so we got
money from the Air Force. And the Navy and DARPA. What we're learning from it will not
only make it possible for us to build you ships, it might just save our damned lives! The
Horvath haven't forgotten that stunt you pulled and you're
still
pissing them off.”

“Okay, point one,” Tyler said. “I invested three billion dollars in this project on the
promise that Boeing would do its level best to build me a
shuttle
. Something to carry cargo from ground to orbit. How much did the US government invest? A
billion?”

“I don't know,” Steve said, shrugging. “From what I've heard... less.”

“So Boeing goes and stiffs me on what I asked for to help out their pals that might buy
more toys from them later?” Tyler said. “Point two. All the stuff you said, right back at
you. If they'd gone and given me what I asked for, they could then upscale it to a space
fighter. Instead, they went for what should, arguably, be
harder
. Building their friends in the Air Force a fighter instead of their
customer
, you know,
me
, a simple damned shuttle. And then they left
you
to explain it? Did you even whisper that you had issues with that, Steve?”

“I've been doing more than whispering,” Steve said. “I said you'd hit the roof and
probably pull out of the project.”

“And now,” Tyler said, red-faced. “Now after they
stiff
me they want
me
to buy implants for pilots? For the Air Force's God damned space fighter? Oh,
hell
no. No
God
damned way! Screw Boeing and screw the Air Force and the Navy and every
other
branch of the US government! This crap is just raw!”

“Is that your final answer, seriously,” Steve said.

“Yeah, Steve,” Tyler said, walking to the door. “That's my final answer. This thing is a
hangar queen until the US government is willing to pony up the money for implants. Because
I'm
out
of this project.”

“And what about the Horvath?” Steve asked, quietly. “You just going to let them crater our
cities whenever they feel like it?”

“Steve,” Tyler said, stopped by the door because, among other things, he didn't have a
pass card. “I can put at least twenty terrawatts on target. From the numbers I've run, I
still
can't take down the shield on that Horvath ship. So tell me how a pissy little grav gun,
that is going to accelerate, what? Ninety kilo bricks of depleted uranium? At maybe a
hundred g? Is going to take out those shields. No way, no how. Even in a closing approach,
you're talking about less than a megajoule.”

“There are a few things we've learned,” Steve said.

“You can breach their shields?” Tyler asked, turning around.

“This isn't a place to be talking about this,” Steve said. “And you are definitely not
cleared for that.”

“Even if you can,” Tyler said, shrugging. “That gun's a pop-gun. The Horvath ship is
armored and fracking huge. You'd be fighting a bison with a BB gun.”

“Not. Cleared.”

“Then I'm Not. Involved,” Tyler said. “So could you please escort me back to my car so I
can go scream at lawyers? Because as I understand it some of the last payments haven't
been made. And they're not
going
to be.”

“How did it go?” Gnad said, nervously.

“Exactly as I predicted,” Steve said. “Despite my absolute best efforts to spin it
properly, he hit the roof. He's out of the partnership.”

“That would be... hard to do,” the Vice President said.

“No it's not,” Steve said. “All he has to do is point to the design parameters and then to
the ship. Not to mention simply withhold all future support. As I stated when I came
onboard this operation and saw both the contract and what you were actually
doing
. That is not a test-bed for a shuttle and that was clear from the beginning. And he made
the same point that I made, which is that a shuttle would have probably been easier to do
and actually what the primary partner, and primary potential customer, asked for. Boeing
screwed its commercial customer, which was a huge market, to keep its military customers,
which will not be a huge market, happy. Furthermore, you screwed Tyler Vernon, the guy who
stared down the Horvath over maple syrup. And you screwed him on a three billion dollar
deal. Even for Tyler, that's got to hurt.”