The Duke Of Uranium Read Online Free PDF

had startled him, not just because of what she had said or because she was going S.P., but also because he’d never thought to add together a few facts in his own life. He got into Rover, and, as he always did, said, “Get me home. High-cost tunnels authorized.” That cost fifteen times what using the public tunnels did, but he’d never worried about that one way or another.
    “Very good, sir,” Rover said. As the canopy closed and the Pertrans car pulled out, Jak realized it was one more observation to add to his stack.
    Jak lived with Uncle Sibroillo, the only one of his relatives he could recall ever having met, almost the only one he’d ever heard of, and they lived in one of the lightest, most expensive residential districts.
    They had a private Pertrans car—few people did. And whereas most of Jak’s friends had jobs, Sib just gave Jak money whenever he needed it, and though Jak was expected to do all sorts of things (keep up with the Disciplines, learn skills, run errands, keep things neat, maintain some sort of grades), none of it was ever tied to the money.
    For the first time, Jak specked that he was probably from a rich family; there was just too much light stuff around to support any other conclusion. Though it had not been kept secret, no attention had been called to it. As the lights flashed by and Rover whipped through the high-cost tunnels, he decided that it didn’t make any real difference to him. Probably that was how Uncle Sib wanted him to feel. He was forever discovering that despite his always seeming to have his feets, one way or another his own freely chosen plan, goal, or way of doing things always turned out to be what Uncle Sib had manipulated him into.
    Rover decelerated smoothly until Jak could feel that the grav was mostly the grav normal to the deck and not the acceleration of the Pertrans car. The flashes of the windows resolved into brief glimpses of the mostly empty garden corridors of his neighborhood. After a swing off the main track and onto the siding, Rover glided through the suddenly opening door and into the entry room of Uncle Sib’s house, a comfortable little lounge that was also the reception area for people who came to see Sib on business, and settled onto the floor. Rover was the only car there, so Sib probably had no visitors.
    Jak got out. Turning back to grab his reader, he realized that it wasn’t there. He hadn’t taken it to school because he hadn’t needed it anymore. He might not even need to read for quite a while.
    Toktru, between getting his feets, getting rid of school, the prospect of an active life instead of more school, and the Y4UB performance that night—and now the realization that he might not have to read anything for decades to come—Jak felt great, but before he went in to talk it over with his uncle, he tried to put on a solemn face. Uncle Sibroillo would be extremely disappointed about Jak’s scores, and Jak needed to look hangdog. The adult world was much kinder to a teenager who appeared contrite.
    If Jak appeared ashamed, Sib would feel justified in imposing no penalty and forgiving him instantly; one thing Jak could count on his uncle for was the very best sort of hypocrisy.
    Sib was sitting in the chair by the door. “You fell short for the PSA.”
     
    “Not by much.” Jak looked at the floor and tried to sound like he really felt wanged.
    “It’s not the spread, it’s the score, and you lost, old pizo. Got anything in mind?”
    “Kind of.”
    Sibroillo raised his eyebrows and spread his hands, his gesture for “your turn” or “go ahead.”
    Jak swallowed; somehow this moment made it real. “Uh, I’m going to enlist. The Army. Probably career, at least start out like it’s career. Try for sergeant, maybe a Guards unit or even B&E.”
    Sib seemed to study the ceiling very seriously. At last he stretched and yawned. “Well, avoiding false modesty, I can honestly say I’ve done a good job with you. Many of the things