Troy Rising 1 - Live Free or Die (46 page)

“Hobbesian,” Tyler said. “Power and wealth through conquest. Smithian?”

“The Wealth of Nations?”
Gorku said. “Adam Smith?”

“I've never heard it referred to that way,” Tyler said.

“Carthage versus Rome to use an earthly metaphor,” Gorku said. “We actually call it
Chihahigh Economics. Especially the, oh, more repressive aspects of Smithian Economics.
Use minor trading partners and colonies as sources of raw materials but ensure that all
major manufacturing is closely held within the Federation and especially certain classes
within the Federation.”

“Wondered how much of that was going on,” Tyler said.

“Quite a bit,” Gorku said. “But I've tried very hard to fight it in the case of Earth.”

“Why?” Tyler asked, his brow furrowing. “I'm sorry, I've studied you. You're not generally
considered altruistic. Quite the opposite.”

“It's not altruism,” Gorku said. “But as to my reputation. I've studied you. And if I paid
attention to reputation, I would be wondering if you were going to have the quail or the
supplier.”

“Heh,” Tyler said. “Point. Still. Why?”

“The metaphor of Carthage, or the Phoenicians rather, is apt,” Gorku said, setting down
his tongs. “The Glatun, in a condition of minimal or no resistance, spread colonies and
established trade with less advanced polities through a large region of space. The
exception to the metaphor is that we never really used mercenaries. Oh, the Rangora as
something like them at one point. But we also never really had strategic challenges. We
could trade in relative peace. And any group that was hostile, well, we also had the
largest navy in the region.”

“Not anymore,” Tyler said.

“Yes,” Gorku said. “Not anymore. I understand you were apprised of the decision by the
Council to deemphasize the importance of military service?”

“I understand their thought process,” Tyler said. “The only real danger to the Glatun
are... Glatun. I also think they were bloody insane.”

“Liberals,” Gorku said, rippling his fur. “What can I say?”

“Now that
had
to be a very direct manipulation,” Tyler said.

“Why?” Gorku said. “You've studied my bio, obviously. Think about it.”

“Junior space engineer,” Tyler said. “Glod background. Up from the gutter would be the
Earth term.”

“Any idea how
hard
the Korkoo make it for someone from my background to jump up to this status?” Gorku said.
“You think that
endears
me to them? Or to the
lumps
that I left behind? I think the term you used was 'socialist pussies.'”

“You're pulling my leg,” Tyler said. “Seriously?”

“You didn't exactly come from the ghetto,” Gorku said. “But enough similarities are there.
And, yes, I am what you would term a conservative. For values of conservative. More like a
British conservative.”

“I didn't know the Glatun ever
had
a monarchy,” Tyler said.

“Not
that
conservative,” Gorku wheezed. “But returning to a more somber subject. There is a
probability approaching ninety percent that Glatun will be involved in a strategic war,
probably with the Rangora, within the next ten years. The odds for it have gone up every
year for the past twenty. Nothing has made it less likely.”

“Then we're screwed,” Tyler said. “Especially since we
haven't
had access to advanced Glatun tech. With the
Troy
we could hold the system against anything the Horvath could throw. You're talking about
the Rangora taking over the region? We're totally jugged.”

“Perhaps,” Gorku said. “And perhaps not. Your plans for the Wolf system are far-sighted
but they don't go far enough. Or not far enough, fast enough. You need a ship fabber.”

“I'd
love
one,” Tyler said, patting his pockets. “Oh, I don't happen to
have
sixty billion credits on me. Gosh.”

“I do,” Gorku said, seriously. “Or, rather, I can assemble the investors. For a fabber.
Admittedly an older one. And a support fleet. And your other plans, for which the fabber
would be more or less a necessity. I have a particular one in mind. Granadica in the
Xisipij system. Rather antiquated, but you can work with it. Work
on
it for that matter. It needs a very thorough overhaul. But it's capable of producing not
just plates, but stator bearing plates.”

“You want us as mercenaries?” Tyler asked.

“The Council would never countenance it,” Gorku said. “Nor do I. To say that I'm doing
some end runs around the Council on this would be... accurate. But it's all fully
legitimate. Granadica is locked out from producing the most advanced military technology.
Technically. You can get around more of that than you'd think. As are the AIs I can get
you access to. But I don't want Terrans as mercenaries any more than the Council does.
What I want, Tol willing, is Terrans as strategic
allies
. With your SAPL, you are at least no longer a strategic drain. But we need more.
Desperately.”

“And you're going to buy that with a fabber and the rest?” Tyler said. “Look, we're
grateful. But I don't see fleets of ships bursting through to save Glatun any time soon.”

“Nor do I,” Gorku said. “But the fabber and your plans make the likelihood that the
Federation will be wiped out... reduced. Not eliminated. The odds against our survival are
still long. But it is reduced. And, yes, I would pay
any
treasure for that chance. Would
you
live under Rangora domination?”

“Uh, I wasn't kidding about anything I said,” Tyler replied. “Well, except the part about
the cities.” Tyler picked at his now cold quail for a moment. “I came here to get the
money for the Wolf project...”

“That is, obviously, a necessity,” Gorku said. “Especially if the Earth is cut off from
Glatun. The fabber will make it less expensive. Still hugely costly, but with the
materials in the system... A ship similar to the
Monkey Business
and forty tugs. A full-scale fabber with construction AI. It's doable. It will require
Glatun engineers but you'll need to supply the labor.”

“Implants,” Tyler said, taking a bite.

“Implant systems,” Gorku said, wrinkling his nose. “A necessity, again. A medical AI to
manage them. You'll need human doctors.”

“You're basically giving us a turn-key upgrade,” Tyler said. “The Council
has
to have some issues with that.”

“The Council is going to have the greatest issues with losing a ship fabber at the
moment,” Gorku said. “They'll get over it. They have much larger concerns.”

“Earth cut off,” Tyler said, thoughtfully.

“It's not news, yet,” Gorku said. “The Horvath are demanding the E Eridani system. The
Rangora are supporting their position.”

“Bloody hell,” Tyler said. “Oh, bloody
hell
.” E Eridani was the only route to Glalkod. Fuel suddenly became a
big
issue.

“Also Cerecul,” Gorku said. “It is a long way around, but using Cerecul, the Horvath and
the Rangora will have direct trade. Which means the Rangora can send them military
assistance. So you see, time may be of the essence.”

***

“This is a very pretty system.”

“We'll be going on to the Wolf system after picking up some crew,” Tyler said, delicately.
“But it's a very pretty system, too.”

When Gorku had offered a ship fabber, Tyler had had the impression of some massive space
dock. Which the Granadica was. It was also a
mobile
ship dock. Barely. It had about a grav of acceleration. But that was enough to get it
rotating the gates on the way to earth.

And a grav for something that was nearly a kilometer long was pretty impressive.

“I hope the crew understands I can't work at my old pace,” the fabber said. “I'm not the
young bot I used to be.”

“The project we're working on has parts
much
smaller than a ship,” Tyler said. “At least the parts we need
you
to supply. I want you to devote at least thirty percent of your cycles to fixing yourself
up. It's apparent that your last... partners simply were not interested in your welfare.”

The fabber looked old. The surface, despite a meteor field, was pitted and worn. The
corridors, despite the fact that it was a
fabber
, for God's sake, were in horrible shape. It
felt
old. The air was rusty tasting. The drive shuddered so hard sometimes Tyler was afraid it
was going to bust. It
was
old. Eight hundred years old. Older even than the
Business
. When it was first turning out cruisers and destroyers the
Crusades
were in full swing.

And it was a
treasure
. Stuff enough raw materials in one end and it spit out full
spaceships
on the other! It was capable of building 90,000 ton freighters! Shuttles! Fighters! Well,
not really fighters because it was specifically restricted from making military
technology.

Which meant they would have to strap the guns on later.

“Thank you,” the fabber said, gratefully. “I so want to fix myself up! But with Onderil it
was just 'Produce, produce, produce! Why don't you produce faster?!' And it wasn't even
interesting stuff. Parts! Atacirc! Electronic toys! No ships. No new designs just the same
thing over and over and over...”

Granadica was a full-scale Class II AI. That was more processor power than earth had ever
had access to. And he was carrying four more blanks. Earth had
never
been given access to AIs, blank or otherwise. Gorku must be really desperate. Not only
that, he must have been talking to somebody on the Council who agreed.

On the other hand, it was said that AIs didn't feel emotion. Granadica seemed to belie
that. It
really
didn't like Onderil.

“We'll try to change that,” Tyler said, quickly. “But we're going to be doing a lot of
parts at first. And I don't know if we're going to be making many ships, per se.”

“Oh, I've seen your plans,” Granadica said, just as quickly. “The Wolf project is going to
be fun! We'll need a lot of carbon, though.”

“For which there are a lot of asteroids,” Tyler said. “Which are also chock full of
goodness like metals you can use to do repairs. The big problem is we've barely gotten a
start on a SAPL. We're going to need BDAs, VSAs and VLAs before we can get serious about
the whole project. I hate to say it, but I'm going to need a bunch of satpaks.”

“No problem,” Granadica said. “The first thing I'll do is fab to juniors. One to do
mirrors and the other to do satpaks. We're going to make one heck of a great system out of
Wolf 359. A fine, productive system with lots of people to talk to. Speaking of which,
there is a shuttle requesting clearance to dock. At least I
think
it's a shuttle. Do you people actually
fly
on those things?”

“If you're talking about a
Columbia
class,” Tyler said, chuckling, “I went to war in something that wasn't half as good as a
Columbia
. So, uhm, yeah.”

“Magnetic bearings? And the field interaction equations are... Oh dear me!”

The 'Dear me!' clinched it. Tyler had been trying to pin down what Granadica, neuter
though it was, sounded like.

But he wasn't
about
to say it.

“If you don't mind letting them land,” Tyler said. “Perhaps you should send permission to
dock?”

“Already done,” Granadica said. “But I'm almost afraid they'll blow up right there in my
shuttle bay.”

“Hey, we're doing repairs anyway,” Tyler said, walking down the corridor. “Bay One?”

“Two,” Granadica said. “One is a disgrace. And this is my body we're talking about.”

“Sorry,” Tyler said. The blast doors to Bay Two opened up before he got there and he had a
moment's panic. He was starting to worry that Granadica was a bit batty and he didn't want
to go dutchman. Especially without a suit. But the shuttle was already landed and the
outer doors closed.

“Tyler Alexander Vernon,” Dr. Foster said. “I thought you were going to Glalkod to get a
loan for
the project
. This isn't
parts for the project
!”

“I was offered a deal I couldn't refuse,” Tyler said. “There's a support ship to follow.
And a host of Glatun engineers. But we need crew, asap. For the support ship and Granadica
as well as grunts for the Wolf project. Granadica, meet Dr. Foster.”

“I have studied your missions and papers extensively, Doctor,” Granadica said. “Welcome to
the Granadica Fabber. I am Granadica.”

“AI?” Dr. Foster asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I am a Class Two Artificial intelligence,” Granadica answered. “I am capable of building
up to a ninety-thousand ton freighter or support ship as well as parts for larger systems.
I contain a full database of the most up-to-date designs in ships as well as various
parts, materials, medical and IT systems and even... entertainment devices.” The last was
said with a bitter edge. “The exception is military restricted gravitics, inertics and,
sorry, lasers and missiles.”

“Oh, Granadica,” Foster said, running his hand over the bulkhead. “I am soooo glad to meet
you. We have been flailing in mid-air for so long. Having someone who knows what it's
doing is...” He stopped and actually started to tear up. “Sorry. Dust.”

“I am please to meet you as well, Dr. Foster. We are going to have so much fun. I haven't
felt this young in
centuries
. And it's been simply
ages
since I built a
gas mine
!”

“Here goes nothing,” Tyler said, sliding the AI core into the block.

Atacirc was not running for as much as when Tyler had made an instant mega-fortune selling
a truck-load of it. But it was still pretty pricey. He had winced at the amount that was
going to have to be connected to be worthy of the AI. The base AI core could perform as an
AI perfectly well. If you wanted it to really rock, you needed a lot of spare processor
power.

Then Tyler had realized he was getting a full-scale fabber. On the way back he'd asked
Granadica if she minded, terribly, maybe, making some AI blocks. And
of course
she could make some for herself!

The AI core was a solid block of atomic level circuitry about seven inches across and ten
high with a handle on top. Just that. Six hundred
etabytes
of processor power.