Heaven's River

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Heaven's River Page 1

by Dennis E. Taylor




  Heaven’s River

  Book 4 of the Bobiverse

  Dennis E. Taylor

  Dedication

  For Dennis E. Taylor, in congratulations for his exclusive deal with Audible.

  Contents:

  Part 1

  1. Frenemies

  2. Working the Options

  3. Trouble

  4. Collection Run

  5. Investigation

  6. The Search Expands

  7. Looking Forward

  8. Survey Results

  9. Group Building

  10. Things are Coming Together

  11. Breaking In

  12. Expedition Prep

  13. Swimming with the Fish

  14. Council of War

  15. Functional Testing

  16. Human Replicant Reserve

  17. First Day in Heaven’s River

  18. Not Part of the Plan

  19. You Did WHAT?!

  20. Just in Case

  21. Getting Involved

  22. Living in Interesting Times

  23. Dancing with Dragons

  24. Interlude

  25. Trouble Follows

  26. Tensions Rise

  27. Just Passing Through

  28. United Federation of Sentients

  29. Panic Time

  30. Starfleet Attack

  31. Strategies

  32. Losing on Purpose

  33. Ultimatums

  34. Higher-Ups

  Part 2

  1. Escape

  2. A Second Visit

  3. Up the Creek

  4. Played

  5. Hugh Joins Up

  6. The War Heats Up

  7. The Battle of New Home

  8. The Search

  9. A Declaration of War

  10. Catching the Train

  11. The War in Meat-Space

  12. Helep’s Ending

  13. Getting Busy

  14. Getting Out

  15. Frustrations Mount

  16. Still Trying

  17. Trolling for Treasure

  18. Trouble with Snidely

  19. Recall is a Thing

  20. Moving On

  21. Earth Abides

  22. Another Close Call

  23. The Road to Garrick's Spine

  24. Negotiations

  25. Crossover

  26. Winding Down

  27. We've Arrived

  28. Claiming Victory

  29. Dodging

  30. Cleanup

  31. It Hits the Fan

  32. A Few Loose Ends

  Part 1: The Search for Bender

  1. Frenemies

  Jacques

  November 2331

  New Pav

  The planet hung below all blues and greens and twinkling lights of nascent cities. New Pav, we called it. The Pavs’ name for their new home planet was slightly more poetic but would still sound like a bunch of spitting and hissing to a human ear. The population had boomed in the 70 years or so since they’d been resettled here, and they now boasted cities on several continents. It looked like the species would survive.

  Whether they'd still be talking to US or not was another matter.

  I received a signal from the cargo drone containing my Manny informing me that it had landed. With a mental sigh, I prepared to leave VR for what would probably be an uncomfortable meeting with the Pav representative.

  I connected to the Manny - the remotely operated android - over the SCUT channel, and transferred my personal POV into it. As internal systems powered up I took a mil to glance around the now familiar cargo hold, then extracted myself from the support rack. The cargo doors opened automatically to reveal my usual Pav military escort, rifles at the ready, probably with safeties off. A gaggle of six-foot tall meerkats, without the cute.

  I hadn't visited in a couple of decades mostly because the last time had been what you might call… tense. Just to see how they react, I smiled, careful not to show my teeth, and gave them the Vulcan salute. The squad leader showed me his teeth - not a gesture of friendship from a Pav - and returned the salute with three fewer fingers. Apparently, he had studied human culture.

  I walked up to the group and gave them a proper Pav smile equivalent. “Hey guys, what’s shaking?” I needn’t have bothered. The squad leader responded with a low snarl and motioned with his weapon toward the nearby tent. They’d set up a tent. It would seem I didn't even rate and indoor meeting. Maybe it was actually a good sign.

  Nope, couldn’t make that work. I entered the enclosure and eyed the Pav sitting at the desk. He was the second planetary administrator since Hazjiar, and he didn't look any friendlier than his immediate predecessor. I missed Hazjiar. She at least had understood the realities of the situation the Pav found themselves in. Somehow, since her passing, the part about the Others having rendered the original Pav homeworld unlivable had been, um… deemphasized. The prevailing attitude now seemed to be that WE had done it, and lied about it for no reason that anyone could come up with.

  “My name is Da’azmahis” he said, gesturing to a chair. “I represent all Pav. Do you represent the humans?”

  “I'm Jacques Johansson I represent the humans for purposes of this transaction.” It was a Pav formality of sorts - everyone identified themselves and their purpose, and it lowered the tension a bit as we settled into the routine.

  Azmah pushed some papers forward. “We have available the agreed 2 tonnages of elements, according to the schedule. This represents payment in full for the two human-owned autofactories in our system. Do you concur?”

  I glanced over the papers. Everything seemed to be in order. We’d offered to just give the auto factories to the Pav, but they’d refused. I couldn’t be sure if it was an aversion to what could be seen as charity or if they didn't want to be in our debt, even morally. I suspected the latter.

  “I concur. The Bellerophon will be here within the year, they will collect the ingots and deliver the auto factories to you from orbit.”

  We stared at each other across the desk. There would be no pleasantries exchanged today. Then Azmah finally spoke.

  “I will admit, this agreement is inconsistent with the prevailing conspiracy theory about the Bobs. It would have made more sense for you to keep us planet-bound and ignorant.”

  “Hopefully this will help to ease the tension between our peoples” I replied.

  “A little, I think.” Azmah gave me a tight-lipped smile equivalent. “I have read the diaries of Hazjiar. She did not feel that you were the enemy, but it is a minority viewpoint these days.”

  I sighed and examined my hands for a moment. “Azmah, you'll be able to build interstellar vessels with the autofactories. We've given you the construction programs as part of the deal, it's just…” I looked up at him. “You’ll be going out into a galactic neighborhood that's full of humans and getting more so. Too much uncontrolled antagonism could be counterproductive, you know?”

  He stared back at me for a moment. “I understand. We are outnumbered and outgunned, if it comes to that. We are not, ah…” Azmah gazed upward for a moment, then smiled. “… Klingons. Is that the right human term? We understand discretion.”

  I smiled back, just as one of my honor guard muttered “And patience.” Azmah gave them a hard glare past my shoulder.

  “We've made great strides in restoring the Pav homeworld” I said, trying to bring things back to an even keel. “About a third of the planet is actively growing things once again. Are you sure you don't want…”

  Azmah shook his head. “In our own time. We will visit our ancestral home. I don't doubt the skills of the Bobs, but this is the homeworld of every living Pav. Old Pav is a monument to what no longer is.”

  “I understand.”
I nodded and stood up. “It will be kept aside for you for whenever you decide.” I turned to my escort. “Well boys, shall we?” The squad leader showed me his teeth again and stepped aside to make room for my departure. I turned back to Azmah for a moment and we exchanged Pav head-bobs. I found myself missing Hazjiar and her version of the Vulcan salute.

  Ephemerals…

  It was so hard not to think it.

  There was a clunk as my cargo drone docked with the comms station. In keeping with the increased use of Mannys for local physical presence, stations were now being constructed with a living area of sorts and docking facilities. I stepped out of the drones hold and walked over to the Manny pod. For humanoid androids the pods had pretty much replaced the older and bulkier storage racks. As the pod cover closed over me, the umbilicals and feeder tubes attached to the Manny. I powered down and transferred my POV to my personal VR.

  My latest VR environment, a ski chalet, was already boring me. It seemed I couldn't stay interested for long in any one theme, and I couldn't get up the energy to work on something grand. I sighed and reset the VR to the default library theme.

  On a whim, I sent a text to Ferb. He replied immediately, and I popped over to the Pav Reclamation Project Administration Center. The Center was hosted by Bill's Moot VR system and had been the nexus for our efforts to rebuild the Pav homeworld for almost 100 years now. I examined the empty room, a sense of nostalgia filling me. We’d spent so many years working on the problem of rebooting the Pav ecology from nothing more than some plant and animal samples taken in a huge rush, as the Others’ armada bored down on the planet. It was ironic: now that we were finally making some significant progress the Pavs simply didn't seem to care.

  Ferb popped in as I stood ruminating. “Hey bud,” he said. “Long time.”

  “Yeah. I uhh…” I waved a hand at the room. “Ghosts, it feels like we just abandoned the Pav.”

  “Aw, don't get melodramatic, Jacques. It's all pretty much automated these days. Takes maybe a couple of hours a month to make sure everything's on track.”

  “Uh-huh. And that's why, right? Where’s Phineas these days, Ferb?”

  He glared at me. “Why’d you have to bring that up?”

  “Because it's the real reason why this place is deserted. Heard from Phineas?”

  “Nothing live.” Ferb looked down. “He isn't bothering to build interstellar relays, and he’s way the hell out of SCUT range now. I get a heavily Dopplered radio transmission every month or so though. Heading for the large Magellanic cloud, he’ll be a while. What’s your point, Jacques?”

  “You, me, Phineas, Claude…”

  “We’re all haunted by what happened.”

  “Ghosts - billions of Pav…”

  “We did everything we could!”

  I sighed. “I know, I know. But there's still an emotional toll, especially since the Pav haven't exactly embraced us for our efforts. We've all, every one of us who were involved, gone on to other things as far removed from this as possible. Phineas, well,” I snorted. “He's taken ‘far’ a bit too far, maybe.”

  Ferb nodded, the slightest trace of a smile showing for only an instant. I cocked my head as he took a good look at him. “What are you doing with yourself these days?”

  “LARPing. Well, designing campaigns more than participating.” Now Ferb finally did smile. “The Gamers, you know. Gandalf and his group do live action D&D campaigns in virt, but they kinda have a problem where they all want to play and no one wants to DM, so they're happy enough for the help and I… uh…”

  “What?”

  “I have to admit, I get a little uncomfortable around them sometimes. Not that they’re dangerous, it's just they’re like strangers. But strangers who all look like me, you know? Some of them are out and out jerks. Yeah, replicative drift, it's a thing, as Bill says.”

  “So why do you work with them?”

  He shrugged. “Something to do. Keeps me busy.”

  “You can't find anything better to do with your time?”

  “Thanks for that, mom.” Ferb hesitated. “Actually, I’m kinda working on something. Not quite ready yet, don't noise it around, okay?”

  He had my interest now. “Okay.”

  “I'm building a huge cargo vessel for myself, and I'm filling it with SCUT relays stripped down to the essentials to keep their size down. When I'm ready I'm going to launch straight up toward Galactic North. I’ll drop off relays as I go. I want to get at least 1000 lightyears above the galactic plane. Then I'll be able to see what's on the other side of the galaxy.”

  “You know you could just put an AMI in the vessel, give it some marching orders, and stay home.”

  “Maybe. Not the same, though. Or maybe you're right about Phineas and all of us. Maybe we ARE trying to run away.”

  Ferb gave me a look that I would have to describe as pleading, as if he was asking for forgiveness or something. “Gotta go, Jacques. We’ll talk again sometime.”

  For some reason, I doubted that would happen.

  And just like that I was alone again in the PRP center.

  Alone with my ghosts.

  2. Working the Options

  Bob

  January 2296

  Above Eden

  Space is… big.

  I know, that's a “duh” statement, and Douglas Adams already made it anyway. But when you're looking for a single spaceship over literally interstellar distances, space gets right in your face with its bigness.

  Bender had been missing now for more than 100 years, despite Bill transmitting the SCUT plans for FTL communication to every system that Bender could possibly have reached. Despite searches along his probable path by Victor and later by his clone-mates Marvin and Luke, we haven't found hide nor hair of Bender. Or bolt or deck plate, what with him actually being a sentient spaceship and all.

  I should explain, I guess. Bender is a computer who thinks he's one Robert Johansson - and engineer/nerd who died in the early 21st century. As are all the Bobs, including me. I was the first replicant launched from Earth in 2133. Every single Bob is my descendant, because that's what Von Neumann probes do. We make copies. We’re up to thousands of Bobs now, spread over an almost 100 lightyear radius, centered around the Sol system.

  Bender was from my second batch of clones, constructed in Delta Eridani. He took off in the direction of Gamma Leporos A… and he's never been heard from again. Lots of Bob's have died over the years in battles, and some without the benefit of a backup, but Bender just disappeared without a trace and without a reason. I knew Bender's original destination, but then so did Victor, Marvin, and Luke, and they haven’t found diddly. Specifically, they couldn't find any sign that he'd ever reached Gamma Leporos A. No autofactory set up, no mining activity, no communications relay station, and no Bussard trail in or out of the system.

  I’d just returned to Delta Eridani after my big pilgrimage back to Earth. It had been an emotionally loaded trip for me. The Earth would probably be drastically altered once it came out of this Ice Age, so in a way it was my last visit to my home in any recognizable form. It was ironic that humanity had solved the global warming problem by implementing a nuclear winter. And killed off 99.9% of themselves in the process, but who's keeping score anymore? Stupid humans.

  The Delta Eridani system was pretty much as I'd left it. Autofactory support systems continued to collect raw materials from the asteroids, ferrying them back to be formed into ingots against any future need. In the absence of any specific orders, the autofactory slowly produced more auto factories and spare parts for all my various mechanical servants. Satisfied with the status quo, I invoked my virtual reality system and settled into my La-Z-Boy recliner, surrounded by my library. Shelves full of books, floor-to-ceiling, never failed to relax me. Spike immediately jumped up and settled herself on my lap, purring contentedly, and Jeeves brought a fresh coffee. The VR environment was an essential part of my existence. Without it, I was just a disembodied mind. In VR, I had a body a
nd pets and a home. And before the addition of the personal VR, four out of five replicants went insane. I’m pretty sure there's a connection.

  “Sorry bud, but I need to concentrate right now” I said to the cat. I turned to Guppy, who was standing at parade rest as usual. “Suspend Spike’s program and bring up a representation of the stellar neighborhood, centered on us, radius 40 lightyears.”

  Huge fishy eyes blinked. “Acknowledged.” Spike disappeared in a scatter of pixelation. A moment later a sphere appeared before me filled with numerous points of light, all conveniently labeled. All the star systems within 40 lightyears of Delta Eridani categorized by stellar type.

  I drew a line with my finger from Delta Eridani to Gamma Leporos A - Bender's presumed flightpath. He’d taken off in the right direction back in 2165, but had never reached the destination. The options were foul play, misadventure, or deliberate decision. The first two explanations might leave some kind of trace. Debris, cross trail of some theoretical attacking force, radioactivity, whatever.

  The third would at least show up as a redirected Bussard trail. But to detect any of those alternatives, I’d have to be crawling along at 5% of c. That would require 320 years to completely scan Bender's projected path. Of course, if I found something, I wouldn't do the whole route, but it would still be a whole lotta not very much for a long time. We’re immortal, being computers, but we also operated millisecond resolutions, so several hundred years would be an eternity to me.

  Now back to the third option: deliberate decision. If Bender had noticed something and turned to investigate it, perhaps someone following his path would see the same thing. Luke and the others hadn’t noticed anything, but they probably been closely scrutinizing their own course rather than looking around. Bender, facing a long interstellar jump in pre-SCUT days, would've been looking for something to cut the tedium.

  I tapped my chin for a few milliseconds, working through the options, then turn to Guppy again. “I think I need to attack this from all angles. Have the auto factories build a hundred or so those long-range scouts we used in the battle of 82 Eridani. Make sure their SURGE drives are powerful enough for interstellar travel.”

 

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