Troy Rising 1 - Live Free or Die (35 page)

“Holy God,” Dr. Tobias said. “Blonds? What the hell do the Horvath have for
blonds
?” The doctor was a completely natural brunette.

“There is no definitive proof that this was a Horvath attack,” Louisa said. “The organisms
were crafted using Glatun equipment, but that is the same equipment the Horvath use. And
the Rangora. The specific codes that would have identified the machine that produced them
have been erased.”

“That's to think about later,” Tyler said. “Louisa, the World Health Organization is a
unified planetary body. Surely you can work through them?”

“It has to be requested,” Louisa said. “There are species that are so... rejective that
they do not ask for help to the point of termination.”

“We'll get someone to ask for help,” Tyler said. “
Please
be ready to respond. Call you back.” He paused and frowned. “Damnit. I don't know anyone
in that part of the government.”

“I'll send you a number,” Louisa said.

***

“...still trying to find out if there are any additional...” Leona said then looked at her
phone. There had been a distinct 'click' as if Dr. Qau, current head of the World Health
Organization, had hung up. “Hello? Hello?”

“Dr. Cline, this is Tyler Vernon,” Tyler said. “Just listen for a second and don't hang up
or talk. There are
six
pathogens, not one. I'm sending you a download, it's actually on your computer, giving an
outline. The Glatun can stop this in its tracks but they need the head of the WHO to
contact them and request help. And he'd better do it right now because four more are about
to go into terminal phase. We have about three days to stop this or we're going to have a
mass die-off. I'm done. You talk.”

“How mass?” Leona said. “And where's the file?”

“Opening it now,” Tyler said.

“Nice being able to own someone else's computer,” Leona said, scanning the document. “This
is fairly open-ended. What's the source?”

“My pilots I sent to Glalkod were infected,” Tyler said. “And they're monitoring our
systems. The Glatun medical AIs probably have a better handle on this than
you
.”

“Is this Horvath?” Dr. Cline asked. “And... blonds? Why
blonds
? That will kill off...”

“Most of the human race,” Tyler said. “Most of the US, obviously. All of Africa, China...
And we're still trying to figure that out. It doesn't really matter, though. All that
matters is getting it stopped.”

“Last question,” Dr. Cline said. “Why me?”

“I dunno,” Tyler said. “One of the Glatun medical AIs gave me your number.”

“Nice to be famous,” Dr. Cline said, dryly.

“Not... really.”

***

“This is Courtney Courtney with CNN and I'm here at the LFD Corporate Headquarters
where a protest is heating up. Excuse me, sir, what are you protesting?”

“The Vermon Worms!”
the man screamed at the camera. In his twenties with scraggly long hair and a ratty
beard, he was waving a sign that said 'End the Oppression of LFD!'
“This is all the fault of that bastard Tyler Vernon!”

“Why do you say that?”
Courtney asked.

“The Horvath would just leave us alone if it wasn't for Vernon!”

“Yeah!”
The speaker was a female version of the speaker with the exception of the beard. Wearing a
t-shirt that was out of date in 1970 and waving another placard with the motto 'Peace
Now!' she clearly knew what she wanted out of life.
“The only reason the Horvath have poisoned us is Tyler Vernon! Vernon Has To Go! Vernon
Has To Go!”

“Vernon Has To Go!”
the guy started chanting in time. Soon the whole crowd was chanting.

“And there you have it,”
Courtney said.
“There's a lot of anger being directed at Tyler Vernon, Susi. These people think Tyler
Vernon has to go.”

“Interesting report, Courtney...”

“Go
where
exactly?” Tyler asked. “Jupiter? Uranus?”

It had been three days since he'd contacted Louisa and Glatun medical ships had already
arrived. They were able to convert nannites for the viruses quickly but there were six
billion
people on the planet and not all of them were easy to contact. For that matter, there were
a some governments that were resisting the distribution, notably Butan and Myanmar except
for their junta and military in the latter case. Then there were areas with poor security
or failed states, the usual sorts of 'leave it with us and we'll distribute to the right
people' countries like China and even in the US people who weren't going to take that
'alien devil medicine.' The Glatun were willing and able to drop a shuttle anywhere they
were welcome. And could be sure they wouldn't take a MANPAD.

But there were six
billion
people on the planet. Getting ninety-nine percent of those before the Brunette Killer
kicked in would be great. That would mean
only
sixty million people dead. The CDC had one server doing nothing but crunching mortality
reports on Johannsen's Syndrome and that already passed sixty thousand dead. And it was
now having to separate for the 'pre-existing condition' viruses. That was how the CDC
referred to them. 'Pre-existing conditions.'

“So... the Horvath nuked Cairo, Shanghai and Mexico City because of you?” Driver said.
They were watching the news from a side office off the main command bunker. Tyler had
decided it was a good idea to head back to earth, mostly to make sure Petra and the girls
got their shots. He was starting to think that wasn't the best move.

“There hasn't been a reference in the mainstream media in which the Horvath and the
orbital strikes were mentioned together in three years,” Tyler said. “In fact, there have
been no references to the orbital strikes except in passing. They've been wiped off the
radar by the Western press. Unmentionable. Those countries still mention them, but even
then they don't mention the Horvath in the same paragraph or sentence.”

“I'm starting to see what you mean by Stockholm Syndrome,” the command center manager
said. “The police that want to rescue you are the problem, not the terrorists holding you
hostage.”

“Bingo,” Tyler said, lightly. Then he grunted.

“What?”

“An insight,” Tyler said, pulling up a picture on one of the screens.

“Who's that?” Driver asked. The picture was of a heavy set 'German' looking middle-aged
male in a very expensive suit.

“Kurt Van Guter,” Tyler said. “He's the lead negotiator with the Horvath in South Africa.
And...” Tyler said, bringing up another picture. This man was thinner and harder looking
with high Slavic cheekbones. “Anton Aleksandrov. Head of Interstellar Negotiations for
Angara Artel. And...” the last picture was of Courtney Courtney from CNN.

“Blond,” Driver said. “Blond. Blonde.”

“And, of course, then there's...” Tyler put up his own picture.

“Brunette.”

“I just damned the whole human race by my hair color,” Tyler said. “The Horvath probably
have a really hard time telling us apart. But the color of our hair is pretty noticeable.”

“Okay, now that's where I have to draw the line,” Driver said. “Time for me to drag out
the pin.”

“What pin?” Tyler asked, confused.

“The pin for your head, sir,” the center manager said. “Maybe the Horvath chose the whole
blond thing because of who they had good relations with. I'm not sure whether to include
the media in that or not while seeing your point. But I doubt they targeted the rest of
the
world
ÑChina, India, Africa... surely they can tell
skin
color differencesÑbecause of Tyler Vernon. That is sort of reverse arrogance of an
amazing
degree, if you don't mind my saying so, sir.”

“Advanced but unsophisticated,” Tyler said, musingly. “Oh, I take your point, colonel. And
I'll accept that that was my inner Evil Overlord coming out. But it was a very
unsophisticated attack. They may deal with an Afrikaner but the actual mining is done by
what I'm sure Mr. Van Guter would call 'bleks.' The generally accepted rationale given for
them not previously trying to wipe out the human race and just occupy the planet was that
it was easier to just exact tribute from us. And keeping the rest of the world more or
less functional kept the mines working better. They've clearly changed strategy.”

“Which means we don't have any choice at this point,” the former colonel said. “We're
going to have to fight.”

“With
what
?” Tyler asked, leaning back and interlocking his fingers behind his head.

The colonel gave him a long and meaningful look.

“It won't focus enough,” Tyler said. “You
know
that. Ninety terrawatts on a space the size of my palm and we
might
breach their shields. Every mirror we've tried has turned into space confetti.
Collimaters, since we're
not
dealing with a laser, spread and
weaken
the beam. And generally turn into space confetti.”

“Bet Ruby works.”

“If we can get it formed,” Tyler said. “If we can get it
ground
. If it's pure enough. If we can get it cooled enough. If, if, if. I'm not happy betting
the security of earth on
if
.”

“Kind of past happy,” Driver said.

“The first time we aim SAPL at the Horvath they're going to start taking it down,” Tyler
said. “It's not hardened. It's not distributed
nearly
enough. Six major targets and you've got a bunch of mirrors pointing light beams into deep
space. A VSA that works, another sixty BDAs and it will be harder. Three years. You
know
this.”

“ 'Ask me for anything but time',” Driver said. “Napoleon Bonaparte. Speaking of short
guys.”

“He wasn't, actually, below normal height,” Tyler said. “Ask
me
for anything but...” He paused and looked into the distance. “Sorry, important call.”
Tyler closed his eyes. “On speaker. Hello, Admiral.”

“Hello, Mr. Tyler,” the commander of SpaceCom said. “I was wondering if you'd be willing
to come down to DC to talk.”

“I can guess about what,” Tyler said. “I assume you won't have the SPs waiting for me? Or
the FBI?”

“No, sir,” the admiral said. “Not where we're going.”

“When?”

“Friday at nine AM? At the Pentagon?”

“Be there,” Tyler said. “Just try to make sure they're actually prepared for me to get
there because if anybody finds out I'm pretty sure the protesters will be out in force.”

“We'll take care of that, sir.”

“Out here,” Tyler said. “Well... I would rather face a thousand deaths...”

“What are you going to tell them?”

“The same thing I just told you.”

***

“So that's it,” Tyler said. “According to the intelligence we've gotten through Glatun
commercial sources and our best estimate of how much power we can put on target, SAPL
cannot penetrate the Horvath shields. And even if it gets through the shields, it's got to
cut fullerene armor. And in the meantime, they are going to be counter-firing its
soft-skin mirror systems so power is going to degrade fast. We find it supremely unlikely
that SAPL will be able to stop the Horvath.”

“You've just launched a new VSA mirror,” the Chairman said, looking around at the
assembled joint chiefs. “The VSA...”

“Is designed to handle enough power,” Tyler said. “We haven't done a full-scale test.
There will be only
one
VSA. The last one lasted thirty seconds which might be enough to do some serious damage.
It still won't stop the cruiser. There is something that might, which brings me to a
question.”

“Which is?” the Chairman asked.

“I'm going to ask a simple question and I'm going to anticipate a simple, or at least
honest and open, response. If the answer is, you don't have the need to know, I'm going to
walk out of the room and you can figure out how to fight the Horvath entirely on your own.”

“That's pretty damned ugly of you,” the Chief of Staff of the Air Force said.

“We're either in this together or we're not,” Tyler said. “We hang together or we will
assuredly hang separately. Clear enough.”

“Again, the question,” the Chairman said.

“Can the rounds on the
Star Fury
ÑGod, what a stupid nameÑdo a pen or drop the Horvath shields?” Tyler asked.

“Uff da,” the Chairman said, leaning back. “You're right, you aren't cleared for that.”

“Thank you very much for your time,” Tyler said, standing up.

“You can't just leave!” the Air Force COS said.

“Unless I'm...”

“I said you're not cleared,” the Chairman said, placatingly. “I didn't say I wasn't going
to
answer
.”

“Now just wait a damned minute...” the AF COS said.

“No, now shut the hell up,” the Chairman said, angrily. “If we need to get the Secretaries
in here to hash this out, we will. But Tyler's right. We have information he has to have
to make an informed decision. He's got information we have to have. It's a two way street.
Star Fury
, and I agree that's a damned stupid name, is your pet project...”

“Figures,” Tyler said.

“Does it penetrate or not?”

“You don't even know?” Tyler asked.

“We've never been able to get a straight answer,” the Marine Corps Commandant said.

The AF COS sat back in his chair and folded his arms. Then he waved them in frustration.

“Maybe!”

“Maybe the SAPL will work,” Tyler said. “Maybe the BFG will work. Maybe, if, sort of. Yes,
or no?”

“Can
you
say yes?” the AF COS said.

“I can say how it works and what might and might not,” Tyler said. “I can give people
enough information to make decisions. I've given you five the information I have. What you
recommend to the President is up to you. But if you want me to throw away SAPL you'd
better have a better something to throw on the table than a gun that
maybe
works. Because SAPL by itself will
not
. So how does it work?”

“This is really God damned classified,” the AF COS said. “I'm not sure I should be
discussing it with an uncleared civilian.”

“Fish or cut bait time,” Tyler said. “The full progress of the disease is supposed to be
done in a week and a half. By then I can have Steve back here and he can try, again, to
get that POS off the ground. But I'm going to fight tooth and nail against committing SAPL
if it's on its own. It. Just. Won't. Work. So how does the penetrator work? What's the
output?”