Live Free or Die-ARC

by John Ringo

  "Ah," Dr. Gigum said. "Pardon the faux pas."

  "The point?" Dr. Cline said, then paused. "Oh . . . hell. How can they overcome standard contraceptives?"

  "To recover the method by which your contraceptives work," Dr. Gigum said. "They mimic pregnancy. Your females, those within reproductive range, still ovulate during pregnancy. But the egg's coating hardens preventing fertilization. The packet first works by removing that defense against multiple pregnancies . . ."

  "That is going to kill women," Dr. Cline snapped. "Our systems are not designed for multi-start pregnancies!"

  "Nonetheless," the beetle said. "That is not all, however. Your attackers noted the social conditions of reproduction in your species. I will not get into evolutionary theory on the subject, but your species has two unusual aspects to your reproduction. Your females do not go into a 'heat' cycle and they orgasm. This places most decisions regarding reproduction or pseudo reproduction, absent force on the part of the male, in the hands of the female."

  "Delicately put," Dr. Cline said, her brow furrowing. "So . . . ?"

  "The packet does three things," Dr. Gigum said. "The first is it removes the protection against multi-term pregnancies. Unwisely as you said. Your females are not designed to handle that. It will cause deaths in the absence of intervention. The second is to increase the tendency, in certain individuals, to orgasm . . ."

  "Oh . . . dear," Dr. Cline said. "That could get . . ." She tried not to smile. "Difficult. Not necessarily bad, mind you."

  "The last is, perhaps, the most societally challenging," Dr. Gigum said, waggling his feelers in discomfort. "Human females, certain human females, now will go into a monthly heat cycle."

  "Monthly?" Dr. Cline said, her eyes wide. "Monthly?!"

  "Yes," the beetle said. "Certain female humans."

  "Which?" Dr. Cline said, her eyes narrowing.

  "The attack anticipated that only persons with the Blond gene would survive . . ."

  "Oh," Dr. Cline said, exhaling. "Oh. Oh . . . hell."

  "So," Dr. Gigum said, his feelers waggling again. "You have a saying that is now very apt . . ."

  "Blondes really will have more fun. Got it. When?"

  "The packet is already kicking in," Dr. Gigum said. "It would have done the modifications over the last month in the population. As females, blonde females, go into the ovulatory period of their monthly cycle they will start to . . . change."

  "And people used to joke about PMS," Dr. Cline said. "Remedy?"

  "There is no widespread remedy," Dr. Gigum said. "Any uni-vaccine that could be simply tricked into allowing a wide-spread retrovirus to correct the . . . change would be, of course, useless. There is little or no way to get past the current vaccines. It will require individualized treatment. Advanced individualized treatment. The nannites must first be removed from the body, a very difficult and time-consuming process, then the retrovirus inserted then the nannites reinstalled.

  "Oh, no, no, no . . ." Dr. Cline said.

  "There is some good news," Dr. Gigum said. "At least, given your recent population decrease. You will soon be looking at a veritable baby-boom."

  "Oh, no, no, no, no, nooo! Blondes in heat? Why couldn't it have been mutant cyborgs?"

  TROY RISING

  One

  "Space Com, this is the Explorer Vessel Trinidad, Terra Ship Registry Number Echo-Victor-One, exiting the gate," Steve said. He had taken over the com by right of being commander. The communications officer was pissed but she'd get over it. He was probably sleeping on the couch in the meantime.

  "Trinidad, SpacCom. Welcome home. How was the trip?"

  "Relatively uneventful," Steve said. "New star systems, no new civilizations. Glad to be home."

  "As said, welcome home. Cleared for orbital insertion. Assume parking positions at geosync three one six, over."

  "Three one six, aye," Steve said. "Pilot, make it so."

  "You're so geeky there should be a law," Mathilda said, smiling.

  The EV Trinidad, named after Magellan's flagship, owner Apollo Mining Corporation, Inc, had been built to spec in the Tu'Ghithazhalh yards circling the Rangora home world of Ligaghux. It had human-designed, and in many cases built, living areas and control and management centers, room for two Columbia Class Boeing shuttles and, importantly, enormous fuel, water and air bunkerage.

  The Glatun had only four exploratory ships still operating and one of those was about to be scrapped with no plans for replacement. At the same time, the Grtul seemed to be going through a building boom in the spiral arm. Since earth's gate had opened, sixty more had opened in the immediate stellar region. Exploring that cat's cradle was complex.

  The Grtul provided updated reports of the growing gate network but that was all. There was no notation as to the condition of the systems, whether there were inhabitants, livable planets, nothing. Just a gate address and how it was connected. Some gates were dead ends. Some were connected to as many as twelve other gates. And that could change at any moment.

  Earth's gate was connected to three other systems. Alpha Centauri had no habitable planets or even useful gas giants. However, its gate connected to E Eridani which in turn connected to Glalkod system. It also, unfortunately, connected to L726-8 which connected by one additional gate to the Horvath home system.

  The Glatun ship that had discovered earth had also gone out through multiple connections along the second earth connection to Barnard's Star. They'd found some interesting systems but nothing worth colonizing or exploiting. No civilizations, no habitable planets.

  The Trinidad had taken the third connection to Wolf 359. And Steve was looking forward to turning in his report. No civilizations or immediately habitable worlds. But 359 had something even more interesting.

  Mapping out a star system took time. And when you first went through a gate, you only knew that the space immediately around the gate was probably clear. You didn't know if there were hostiles on the far side. You could be running smack-dab into a fire-fight or an asteroid. It was a bit nerve-wracking. But if you came through okay, you then had to get to work.

  First you spotted the major planets and their big moons. Then you looked for perturbations that might indicate other planets. You scanned for the big asteroids. Spotting all the small ones was a job for follow-on crew if there ever was one.

  It took time. And if there was anything interesting in the system you had to pick your way over, carefully, for a closer look.

  359 had taken some time. The one system currently connected to it had been quicker. Pretty much nada. But they'd still been gone three months and were pretty much breathing CO2 and drinking sewage.

  "Incoming call from the boss," Mathilda said. "You want to take it?"

  Mathilda, and the rings they both wore, was a result of the aftermath of the battle against the Horvath. Earth had taken a pounding and morale was rock bottom. As it was put to Steve by none other than the president: People really need some heroes right now, Major, so go out and hero.

  The truth was it was the Very Scary Array that slagged the Horvath ship. And there were plenty of commentators willing to make that point. But it was hard for people to get their heads around what was, at base, a mining laser, winning a war. Two brave men in a flying machine was easier to wrap your head around.

  Since Tyler had immediately disappeared back into being, well, the richest man in the world and as out of sight as Punxsutawney Phil on a sunny day, it was up to Steve to travel about being shown off like a pet dog. The one absolute positive for the confirmed bachelor was that . . . well, it wasn't hard to meet the ladies. That had been a subtext of being an astronaut in the old days, but since the Apollo missions, the glamour had sort of worn off.

  The whole 'heat' thing, which was slowly getting under control, was another issue. Sometimes the ladies were just a bit too forward.

  Not so on his 'triumphant journey.' And he wasn't just shown off in the US, he was trotted out in every major city in the world. Which was how
he met Mathilda.

  In Melbourne, Australia, he had insisted that he have a day off. Ninety-Mile beach was not something any person should miss if they had the chance. To say that the sheilas of Ninety-Mile beach were world class was a bit of an understatement. More the class of the world.

  Steve wasn't trolling. He'd deliberately gone in mufti. In this case, a pair of Speedos and shades.

  So when a red-head walked up to him it was a slight surprise. Six foot, he did like the ladies tall, blue eyes and absolutely stacked. Presumably, she recognized him and didn't appear to be 'in that condition' as it was being referred to by the delicate. But he wasn't going to turn down . . .

  "You have to be the worst pilot in the history of astronautics," Mathilda said. Then Dr. Mathilda Burns, Professor of Astronomy at the University of Melbourne, proceeded to reconstruct every single mistake he and Tyler had made during the battle.

  Which turned into a 'got a hell of a sunburn' discussion, dinner, drinks . . . after-drinks, coffee, hotel room, aloe . . . and a wedding ring.

  And now second officer of the Trinidad.

  "Do we want to get paid?" Steve asked, grinning. "Definitely."

  "Steeeve-oh!" Tyler said. "How was the trip?"

  "Long," Steve said. "We've got enough fuel to get into stable orbit and we're down to eating Mountain House. Also breathing soup. Very glad to be home."

  "Report? Anything good?"

  "Depends on your definition of good," Steve said, smiling. "But I think you'll find it . . . interesting."

  "Fine," Tyler said. "Be all mysterious. I have stuff that's interesting, too! Meet for dinner? Or are you fatigued by your travels?"

  "Very," Steve said. "But if you're buying . . ."

  "We've got this amazing new chef on the Business," Tyler said. "Hop in your shuttle and get your butt over here. Oh, and your blushing bride, of course. Hi, Mathilda!"

  "Hi, yourself," Mathilda said. "But I've had about as much of him as I can take for a while. Unless it's a command performance, I've got a date with a spa."

  "You go spa," Tyler said, smiling. "I won't keep him long. Just some stuff I think he'd like to see. And I'm sure he wants to give me the report in person. Steve, there's a repair and refresh crew waiting. If you can let them work on your baby without looking over their shoulder, give your crew leave. And yourself after we talk."

  "I could do with a few days not breathing canned air," Steve admitted. "I'll head over to the Business as soon as we're parked."

  "Looking forward to it. Missed you, man."

  "You do look tired," Tyler said, pouring the astronaut a snifter of brandy. "Martel Centennial. Hundred and fifty years old. Don't ask how much it costs. But it seemed like the appropriate occasion."

  "Salut," Steve said, raising the snifter. He took a very small sip. "My, that is good."

  "The French can't do much right, but I'll give them fine food and drink," Tyler said.

  The 'Commodore's Quarters' on the Business were a recent addition. They'd been made by a Finnish company that normally built cruise ships. With the decline in the cruise ship industry, Tyler had snapped up the company and gotten them to start thinking about space ships. With most of the kinks worked out of gravity systems, he had his eyes on fleets of ships plying between worlds. It wasn't going to happen soon, but the Finns were enthusiastic enough.

  The quarters had been shipped in vacuum-sealed components that would fit through the cargo hatches on the Business. A small section of crew quarters were ripped out and the compartmentalized, insert Tab A into Slot B, Commodore's Quarters installed.

  They were much more comfortable than the normal crew quarters but Tyler was spending so much time on the Business he figured he should indulge. And it was good practice for what he saw coming in the very near future.

  "So talk," Tyler said. "What did you find?"

  "Four-one-six isn't much," Steve said, shrugging. "Red dwarf, one gas giant, small rubble belt. If more gates open off it, maybe there will be something worthwhile."

  "Three-five-nine?" Tyler asked.

  "Very interesting," Steve said, taking another sip. Really nice. "Six gas giants. The outer most is practically in the Kuiper Belt. Lots of moons. Rocky planets depends on your definition of planet."

  "Any habitable moons?"

  "Not as they stand," Steve said. "But about the gas giants. The inner most is directly in the life belt. And it has three moons, one of them a bit short of Earth sized, that have reducing atmospheres."

  "Thick?" Tyler asked.

  "Thick enough," Steve said, grinning. "They'd be a big damned project to terraform, but they're all terraformable. The Mars sized one, which we named after my blushing bride, has an atmo that is thicker than earth's."

  "Yeah," Tyler said, taking a sip and musing. "But if it's reducing, you're going to have to convert it to an oxy-nitrogen atmo."

  A reducing atmosphere was the original atmosphere of earth, consisting of a, to humans, toxic mixture of ammonia, hydrogen sulfide and carbon dioxide.

  In earth's early history, microorganisms, starting with archaeobacter, had slowly converted the atmosphere, 'eating' the ammonia and hydrogen sulfide for fuel. Archeobacter were generally now only found deep in the earth or, notably, around undersea volcanic vents where they were the basis of a deep ocean food web.

  As those reduced, blue-green algae had arisen and converted the carbon dioxide to fixed carbon and oxygen. Remnants of that period could still be found in banded iron formations. As the oxygen rose in the atmosphere, surface iron, which had stayed in a more or less pure state, locked up the oxygen in what was essentially rust, forming the red bands in banded iron. With the oxygen locked up, more iron could deposit. Then, oxygen levels built up and it got locked up again. And so on an so forth until all the iron was converted and oxygen could start to seriously build. Then came plants and animals and the biosphere as it currently stood.

  "You're going to lose some total mass to absorbed material. Still . . . Steve, that is great news!"

  "Also has a big rubble belt," Steve said. "And the last part is the most interesting. The gas giant has a really odd atmo. Not only is it unusually high in He3, at the level where there's a nearly earth normal gravity, about point seven, the atmosphere is oxy-nitrogen."

  "You're kidding," Tyler said, his eyes wide. "Not reducing?"

  Free oxygen tended to bond to just about anything, which meant that reducing atmospheres, with all the free oxygen bound up, were bound to be common. To have an oxy-nitrogen atmosphere like the earth you practically had to have something keeping it that way. On earth, that was called 'plants.'

  "Nope," Steve said. "Damned near earth normal. Most of the reducing gases are either higher or lower so it might be a sorting thing. There may be some life in the atmosphere, microbiology at best, that's converting them but we're not sure. Higher percentage of noble gases, but completely breathable. It's damned odd. But I figured you could probably use it to help terraform."

  "That, yes," Tyler said, thoughtfully. "But this is only one gate jump away, right?"

  "Yeah," Steve said.

  "And on the back side of us from our enemies," Tyler said, pursing our lips.

  "Of which we haven't seen hide nor hair since just before we left."

  The Horvath had not taken the loss of their cruiser lightly. Shortly after the battle, they had sent four more cruisers through the gate with the intention of teaching earth a permanent lesson.

  Again, they had launched missiles from long range. And they had, unfortunately, been nearly as impossible to stop as the first barrage. A ring of BDA mirrors around earth had intercepted about half but the other half got through. Rome, Madrid, New Delhi, the list was long. The difference was that most governments had set up solid evacuation plans and even drilled on them. And as many people as could manage were moving out of cities. It was still impossible to entirely do without them, but they were . . . dwindling.

  The death toll had still been staggering. And most of hum
anity had buried its dead, shrugged it off, picked up and continued on.

  The Horvath ships managed to fire their barrage. And they had started hitting the VLA nearly as fast.

  There were seven VSA clusters working on Connie and other targets. They'd all turned on the Horvath ships as fast as they could be retargeted.

  "If the Horvath would quit bombing our cities, I could almost thank them for coming through," Tyler said. "We've gotten nearly sixty tons of prime grav plates off of them. Not to mention some surviving power plants and laser emitters. For a while there, I was doing less mining than salvage. Most of that is going into the Constitution."

  Earth's first heavy cruiser had been under construction for nearly a year. It had, fortunately, not been targeted by the Horvath. It was larger and more powerful, potentially, than a Horvath cruiser. Unfortunately, BAE was saying it was going to take six more years to complete.