Brynin 3 (2 page)

I flinched, shocked by the information. “Is Nianda going to survive?”

“She has a six percent chance.”

“When can I visit her?” I frowned, shocked that her odds were so poor.

“In eleven hours.”

“I’ll return then.”

I left the hospital. Near the corner of my screen, above the tablet, recent news from an online newspaper scrolled.
Obno Corporation discovers more gold on the planet Danig.

Danig was far from Icir. If I charged each passenger eight hundred micas for a ticket—a lot of money—and located six customers, there would enough funds left over to update my ship…and possibly cover Nianda’s medical costs. …If she lived.

I said, “Ad.co-pil.” My tablet put an advertisement on the Internet.
Seeking experienced mapmaker. Must know R script, MMAK, and COV10. Will work aboard Series 7 starship bound for Danig.
The rest of the post included my email and phone number.

My screen’s base-pattern vanished. It was replaced by a rotating sign, an advertisement identical to the email that I had just sent out.

A female voice came out of my earplugs. “Jason, I just saw your ad on the Hieg bulletin board. My name is Romia. I’m interested. I know R script, COV Ten, MMAK, Y One-Two-One, M Eight, NU Eleven, and M Nine Y. Can we meet at the Yuiin’s, a coffee shop, in twenty minutes?”

“Yes. See you then.” Y121, 8M8, NU11 and M9Y, four photonic computer languages, were complicated, difficult to learn. Y121, a tool designed to improve star charts, was primarily used to organize planetary gravitational pull databases. Had she ever been to Danig?

Close to the bottom of my screen, a map of Yuiin’s, a café, brightened.

I sat at a table, a cup of coffee in hand. As a new email glided across my screen, the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder.

“Are you Jason?” An attractive woman in a beige dress, a Dseo female with scaly orange skin, textured epidermis that many members of her race had, peered at me.

“Yes.”

She took a seat. “I’m Romia. Although I’ve mapped all of Taii, Yat and Orim, I’ve never been to Danig.”

Database information, a recording, came out of my earplugs.
Barren deserts cover Taii, Yat and Orim, Icir’s three moons, celestial bodies without atmosphere.

I sipped my coffee. “One and a half years ago, not long after Obno Corporate starship reached Danig, a team of Geologists discovered gold. Obno is hiring a lot of miners, programmers, architects, nurses, scientists and construction workers. ST Seven, my ship, can get there faster than any craft around because all of them will run out of tritium long before mine does. In other words, I won’t have to stop at the Loion space station to refuel.”

She scowled. “Why is it so important to reach that planet before everyone else does?”

“There aren’t many jobs. Once those are filled, there won’t be much work available. However, there’s one big problem.”

“What is that?” Romia opened her eyes wider, caught off guard.

“There are two hundred species of poisonous snakes on that planet. The Ri, Eoim, and Heos species aren’t that big, but the Tiel are about sixty feet long.”

Romia glowered. “Why do you want to go to a horrible place like that?”

“ST Seven needs a lot of repairs. Although I could transport passengers to Gyee or Tir, two continents on Icir, I couldn’t make enough money to buy the parts.”

“Why can’t you
make enough money
?”

“There are thousands of stellar craft on Icir. Passengers can fly anywhere on this planet for next to nothing. It’s very competitive. I have to keep my prices low. As a result, I can’t make enough to buy everything I need.”

“No thanks. Fuck Danig. Find another mapmaker.” She rose to her feet and stomped off.

I took a deep breath, annoyed. An email from a cyborg named Vren Oote, a man who was half Amboa, half robot, zipped across the screen. His background was somewhat similar to Romia’s.

Unlike her, he had six years experience using Y121, software that created graphs that would tell us how long a Series Four spacecraft’s hull would last. In addition to that, he was well acquainted with 8M8, software used to evaluate the Hamiltonian condition, an observable state of engine plasma, making it easier for us to find out if the engine was running smoothly. 8M8 was extremely useful because engine plasma changed as a spacecraft accelerated. If plasma wasn’t monitored properly, engine coils would burn up prematurely.

I spoke into my tablet. “Vren, are you there?”

“Yes.”

“This is Jason.” I repeated the same instructions.

He said he would arrive soon.

A man just over six feet tall—a cyborg with a wide chest, thick neck, broad shoulders and a semi-transparent head—entered the room. From the waist down his robotic body, Standard Protocol, was silver—covered by thousands of small octagons, carbon nanotube-titanium shields, barriers designed to protect nanomotors, wireless receivers and polymer muscles, devices that made it possible for him to walk, stoop or run.

He sat down. “I’m Vren. By the way, are you the C that brought Ambassador Yar to Icir?”

“Yes.”

“How did you do it?” He blinked, amazed. “Only four starships managed to escape Brynin.”

“It wasn’t easy. I’ll provide details later. At any rate, I’m going to Danig. Are you interested?”

He clenched his fist, nervous. “Yes.”

“I assume you’ve heard about it.”

Vren scrunched up his face, tense. “Yes, I have. When do we leave?”

“In a few days. First, you need to find one hundred milligrams of tritium at a low price and bring it to me.”

Vren leaned forward. “I know quite a few merchants.”

“Good. Second, I have to find passengers with enough money to pay for the trip.”

Vren rubbed his chin. “I saw the ticket prices in your email. I don’t know anybody with that much money. Good luck finding wealthy passengers.”

I glanced at my screen. “I just received several emails from several potential ones.”

Vren remained silent, a surprised expression on his face.

“You’re hired,” I went on. “I just exported enough money into your tablet to pay for the fuel and your time.”

Vren smiled. “Thanks.”

“By the way, before we leave Icir, I want to visit a woman named Nianda. Earlier today, she underwent surgery.” I told him about my conversation with the doctor.

“That sounds like private business.”

“I want to help her any way I can. She’s never been to Icir before. She doesn’t have any family or friends here.”

Vren nodded and stood. “The minute I find that tritium, I’ll send you an email.”

“Good,” I said. “By the way, you don’t look like most Amboa men. Why is that?” Many Amboa men and women vaguely resembled amoebas.

Vren replied proudly in an upbeat tone, “My father was Amboa, a scholar. My mother was a Ulthe warrior.”

I raised an eyebrow, astonished by his answer. “You have interesting parents.”

“Very interesting. Some day I’ll tell you about them.” He hurried away.

In the corner of my screen, an email from a Dseo Geologist, a man named Sone Nien, magnified. I spoke into my tablet. “Is this Sone?”

“Yes.”

I told him where Yuiin’s was.

“That’s fine. Can we meet in thirty minutes?”

“Yes.”

Below his email, a photograph of Sone emerged from the background. At the top of his forehead, not far above vertical grooves, I noticed a long scar.

Sone plopped down in a seat.

“You’re right on time.”

He raised his chin, a proud expression on his face. “I’ve studied the Agols, a sixty mile long mountain range, sedimentary rocks that are near Icir’s equator, for the last nine years. After I reach Danig, I’m going to inspect Toit, Zomi and Qin, three craters. According to Obno executives, Mr. Lyso and Mr. Raui, there are just over two tons of gold half a mile beneath all three craters.

“Unfortunately, they don’t know if the ground is firm enough to support mine shafts. If Geologists and their teams start digging and all the shafts cave in, they can’t extract the gold. They hired me because I know a great deal about sedimentary rock.”

His ID was authentic. He sent payment into my tablet. I exported the ticket into his database.

I said, “I’ll call you an hour before we leave Icir.”

“Okay. I need to pack my suitcase.” He walked away.

Near the top of the screen, Doctor Tayt Arno—a Mlaan woman, a gorgeous female with a copper-colored face—magnified. Her specialty was neurotoxic peptides, anti-venom serums, amino acids that attached to the nicotinic acetylcholine receptor.

For eight years, Dr. Arno had worked at Fauur Hospital, a medical center in the Drok Jungle, over two thousand miles from Wcip. During that time she’d helped two other physicians develop serums, antidotes that saved hundreds of lives. Obno hired her because their small hospital was understaffed.

I spoke into my tablet, telling her where I was. She said she would arrive soon.

A slender Mlaan woman in a lavender pantsuit, a lady with chiseled features, Dr. Arno sat down and offered a brief smile. “I’m already packed. When do we leave?”

Moments later, I sent the ticket into her database and mentioned the departure date.

“Thanks. See you then.” She hurried away.

In the corner of my screen, an email from Mr. Stio Guizz, an Etite programmer who specialized in wireless TCP-like networks, scrolled down. Obno had hired him because every tablet on Danig was difficult to use. If you were more than a quarter of a mile from anyone and spoke into the wireless device, static along with a distorted voice came out of it.

Although Obno executives, Mr. Lyso and Mr. Raui, assumed that Danig’s magnetosphere was affecting tablet reception, neither of them knew enough about microwaves that carried voice, text, image, database and video information to alleviate the problem.

Stio, a short Etite man with bulging eyes, sat at my table. “I’m really broke,” he admitted. “When do we leave? I need to start working soon.”

Near the corner of my screen, his ID enlarged. He was the real Stio.

“You’ve heard about Danig?” My tablet exported his ticket.

“Yes! It’s a fucking bloody awful place, but I need a job. Nobody on Icir will hire me because of my…uh, bad temper.”

I rubbed my face, miffed. I didn’t want to spend time with him. “We leave in a few days. I’ll call you just before we take off.”

“Good. I need to finish packing.” He rose and left.

Well, this was going fast. Near the edge of my screen, next, Dr. Buar Tria scrolled down. He was a male Aito plasma physicist from Xuis, a city several thousand miles from Icir’s north pole. His specialty was erecting Tokamaks, fusion reactors that provided vast amounts of electrical power for towns and cities by converting hydrogen to helium.

Building a stable Tokamak would be difficult. The machine’s internal plasma, a hot gas that reached a temperature of one million degrees Fahrenheit, would destroy the reactor’s outer walls in a few months if it was designed and built incorrectly.

A thin gaunt-faced Aito man in a sepia business suit took a seat. “I’m in a big hurry,” he announced. “When do we leave?”

Moments later, we finished the ticketing procedure.

I said, “I assume you know about Danig’s reputation.”

Buar grimaced. “Yes. Although Obno’s going to pay me well, I have a bad feeling about Rougt.”

Information came out of my earplugs. “Rougt, a small mining camp sixteen miles from Danig’s only hangar and airstrip, only has a few geodesic domes.”

Buar, a perplexed expression on his countenance, murmured, “By the way, I don’t know if this means anything, but Neaa, the Obno Human Resources employee who hired me, said there’s something more valuable than gold on Danig.”

“Did he say what it was?” I hesitated, astonished and intrigued by this new information.

“No. The thing is, I couldn’t tell if Neaa was teasing me.”

“I don’t know what to think.” I shrugged. Was Neaa exaggerating, making up stories that were based on rumors? I couldn’t tell.

“Neaa might have based his story on lies. Anyway, see you at take off.”

Near the bottom of my screen, Youn Lyoo, a thirteen-year Ulthe girl’s name, emerged from a group of emails. According to the document, Youn and her mother argued every day. Her parents were divorced. Eight months ago, her father, a giag driver—a truck operator—had moved to Rougt because he needed money. Youn missed her dad. She wanted to live with him.

I raised the tablet to my lips, “Is Youn there?”

A friendly voice replied, talking fast, “That’s me. Is this Jason?”

“Yes.”

“I have enough money. When do we leave?”

“First of all, don’t you have any aunts or uncles you can stay with? Danig is no place for someone your age.”

“I’m living with my
Uncle
Hoi. After telling me about the snakes on Danig, he said it was up to me. I told him that I want to be with my dad.”

“Does your father agree with your decision?”

“Sort of. I’ll read his email.

Dear Youn,

“It’s best that you stay with Uncle Hoi. However, if you must, it’s okay to come to Rougt and stay with me. Just send me a confirmation email so I can pick you up.

“Love, Dad

My stomach muscles tightened, a nervous reaction. Nonetheless, it was her choice. I sent her a map and information with the coffee shop’s address on it.

A petite Ulthe girl with light purple skin, a child with a pleased expression on her face, plopped down in the chair.

After the ticket transaction was completed, I frowned. “You won’t like Danig.”

“We’ll see.” She jumped up and skipped away.

Youn was stubborn, unaware. In my mind’s eye, a Tiel crawled over her leg. She howled, frightened.

Near the top of my screen scrolled an email from Dr. Ieeb Pree, a Dseo female computer programmer. Her specialty was using photonic languages, K Script, RXL, ORL, and YX, to create massive cross platform databases.