Bobiverse 2: For We Are Many

by Dennis E. Taylor

  I remembered the early hacking attempt, which had also originated from New Zealand. It was reasonable to assume that this had been an ongoing war for longer than I’d realized.

  Fine. War declared. But I wanted to be certain I caught the right people. The mastermind behind so complex a setup wouldn’t be that easy to track down. I was sure there’d be at least one more hop to his location.

  I would take whatever amount of time, use whatever resources I needed, to catch him. Without limit. And when I did, there would be a reckoning.

  29. Emergency

  Howard

  April 2190

  Vulcan

  [Emergency at Landing]

  I turned briefly to look at Guppy; but good news or bad, Guppy looked like Admiral Ackbar. No help there.

  I turned back to my video call with Dr. Sheehy, said, “Gotta go!” and disconnected. I picked up the video connection that Guppy was holding for me. It was Stéphane.

  “Howard, we’ve got a group of raptors that somehow got through the fence. They’re running through town, looking for prey.”

  “Last known location?”

  Stéphane gave me a cross-street. I knew that security would be converging on the location, but the raptors could move fast—much faster than a human.

  I had only two busters close enough to be useful, but I had all the drones that were part of the automated surveillance system. As well, several backup units were parked on top of the Administration building, sitting in their cradles. I activated the backups and sent all units to the reported location.

  Halfway there, the two busters blew past the flock of drones, doing close to Mach One. I was now juggling eighteen separate units. Even with most of them slaved to a primary, it was hard to keep track. I dismissed my VR and frame-jacked up high enough so that I could multi-task.

  The busters were coming up on the reported location, but I couldn’t see any raptors. I split off a couple of drones and sent them up to a kilometer altitude, activating high-res, infra-red, and motion-detection sensors.

  Security personnel were approaching from several directions. There were only two streets that the raptors could be on, and there was no sign of them. Could Brodeur have been wrong? A quick check of the video surveillance streams eliminated that possibility. Either raptors could become invisible—wouldn’t that be a kicker—or they’d found somewhere to hide.

  I brought all the drones down to a few feet above ground and started a search pattern for raptor prints. The drones took off in different directions, following anything that was even remotely print-like. Chivvying all these units was really wearing on me—even in frame-jack, I had to keep track of what orders each unit was following—so I guess I don’t feel too bad that it took me a couple of missed cycles before I realized one of the units wasn’t responding.

  I pulled up the video log for that unit, and—wow, that’s what the inside of a raptor mouth looks like. Good to know.

  The raptor pack had gone to ground inside someone’s storage shed. I guess one of them decided he should take out the flying thing before it raised the alarm. Even acknowledging that they couldn’t know about radio, that was intelligent behavior. Bill and I would be discussing this one.

  Meanwhile, I sent all units to surround the shed, dropped my frame-rate to real-time, and called Stéphane.

  The drones and busters arrived and took up positions around the shed. And the moment they did that, the raptors made a break for freedom. They dodged through the circle of drones, leaped a fence, and made a bee-line for the perimeter.

  It would be a coin-toss whether any of the security people could get into position to take them out, and at the speed the raptors were moving, there wouldn’t be much opportunity. Hopefully civilians would have heard the alert and had enough sense to stay indoors.

  “Stéphane, have they killed anyone?”

  “Not to my knowledge, but we’ll be checking out this hou—no, never mind, I see some faces looking out the window. Someone just gave me a thumbs-up. So no, no casualties.”

  “Okay. They’re out of range of you guys now. I don’t have enough space to get my busters up to speed anyway, so I’m going to let them go. Maybe they’ll spread the word…”

  “Tabernacle! You think they can talk?”

  “Erm, probably not, but maybe they can teach caution through their behavior. Oh, and guess what? Seems raptors can dig, too. Wonderful.” I looked down at the hole through which the raptors were wriggling. It must have been seven or eight feet deep at the low point. Looked like we would be upgrading the fences. Again.

  * * *

  “Things just get more and more complicated.” Colonel Butterworth had his head propped up in one hand, elbow on his desk. “Cranston and Valter are starting to look like the smart ones.”

  The colonel didn’t expect an answer. I think he just needed a drinking buddy. I had a cognac from Sam’s template—I was really getting used to the taste—and I just nodded. Truthfully, the raptor invasion hadn’t resulted in any fatalities, and we were already starting on getting the fences fixed. Metal rods driven down twenty feet, spaced six inches apart, would take care of the digging issue.

  And Bridget—Dr. Sheehy, that is—had a device almost perfected that could detect parasite infection through body odor. No blood tests required, just wave your hand over it as you go by. Those would be installed in all building entrances as soon as she had all the, er, bugs out. Longer-term, we hoped to thin the parasites out to the point of eventual extinction.

  Meanwhile, she’d come up with a name for the thing—Cupid Bug. Because, as she explained, it went for the heart. I had to admit, I appreciated Bridget’s sense of humor.

  I also had several small batches aging of something that might turn out to be a replacement for Jameson. Or for paint thinner. Time would tell.

  The colonel and I discussed a few miscellaneous items, but nothing really pressing. The council, as expected, had caved without a fight on the subject of bronto burgers. Let’s face it, one of the damned things would keep the entire colony in steaks for a couple of weeks. We wouldn’t need to kill many. And the alternative was still kudzu.

  I said goodbye to the colonel and popped out. On a whim, I activated one of the surveillance drones. I took it up a couple of kilometers and did a slow pan. The sun was going down in the west, and it was a magnificent sight.

  From the surface of Vulcan, Omicron2 Eridani appeared almost a third bigger than Earth’s sun. As a K-type star, it had a slightly more orange cast, although you stopped noticing it after a day or so. But the additional output in the red end of the spectrum meant that even the most run-of-the-mill sunsets were spectacular by Earth standards. And today wasn’t run-of-the-mill. Scattered clouds were all that were left of the recent thunderstorms, but those clouds glowed in the sky like individual wildfires.

  The forest-slash-jungle stretched horizon to horizon, hugging the hills and only reluctantly leaving the occasional rocky crag uncovered. Something like birds swooped and twirled in flocks that wouldn’t have been seen on Earth since the days of the passenger pigeon. If you could ignore all the things with big shark teeth, and the other things that could accidentally squish you between their toes, it was a kind of paradise. Oh, yeah, and the things that laid eggs in you. Eww.

  30. Found Something

  Bashful

  November 2187

  Gliese 877

  We’d all taken off in different directions, per Mario’s orders. I picked GL-877, a nondescript star in a forgettable patch of sky. For all we knew, these Others might not be planet-based, or even system-based. But we had to start somewhere. At minimum, we’d be mapping their path of destruction.

  [We have radio traffic]

  Guppy pushed a window toward me. As I examined the readings, my eyebrows climbed up my forehead. The radio noise coming from this system was clearly artificial. One way or the other, something intelligent lived here. Something noisy.

&nbs
p; “Every possible caution, Guppy. Let’s take it slow. I don’t want to attract attention.”

  [Understood]

  “And prep the stealth probes.”

  I’d have been cautious anyway, but given the possibility that this was the Others, I was going to give paranoia a brand-new level of definition. I had spent my time during transit building a couple of stealth probes. I’d had to sacrifice some busters and some roamers, but the result was a couple of probes that would be almost undetectable unless they cranked up to full power. I had constructed them out of carbon-fiber-matrix ceramic and non-ferrous metal wherever possible. The Others would have to be specifically looking for one of these in order to detect it. I’d already squirted the plans back to Mario as part of my continuous reporting.

  I was still going about 5% of light speed, so I lined up just below the ecliptic and released one probe. I altered my line slightly, then released the other. It would take just under two weeks for the probes to free-fall through the system. Meanwhile, I would take a powered flight path, which would take me to the rendezvous point on the other side without my going anywhere near the inner system. Unless the residents had far better detection systems than we did, they’d never know I was here.

  I had carefully laid out parameters in which the probes would run for it and conditions in which they’d self-destruct. There would be no chances taken. In either case, once discovered, a probe would abandon attempts at stealth and squirt all telemetry to my calculated position.

  With my powered flight plan, I arrived at the rendezvous several days before the probes, on a vector straight outward from the system. The probes hit the brakes and activated their beacons as they came within range.

  I downloaded their data and transmitted the whole bundle in Mario’s direction before beginning my own analysis. It took about two days to build a coherent picture of the inner system. There were two lonely inner rocky planets and a single small Jovian farther out. The inner of the two rocky planets appeared to have an atmosphere. The other had been too far away from either probe to get details, but it appeared to have a surprisingly high albedo.

  The system seemed to be particularly free of debris, except in an orbit about 80% of the orbital radius of the inner planet. At that distance from the sun, there was a truly spectacular amount of mass—and activity—spread right around the orbit. That whole area was, in fact, responsible for most of the electromagnetic activity in the system.

  I turned to Guppy and pointed at the mass concentration. “What the crap is that?”

  [Insufficient information. But we can rule out a natural satellite]

  “Not a planet?”

  [Correct. The mass is too diffuse]

  I wished I had someone besides Guppy to discuss this with. The plan had been to build a second wave of Bobs back at Gliese 54 and send them to catch up with the first wave. So within perhaps six months, I could be getting company. Hopefully the new Bob had been picking up my transmissions and had a good idea of how to approach.

  I was sitting more than six billion kilometers from the local sun, in some of the emptiest space I could imagine, so it was a shock when the proximity alarms started sounding.

  I frame-jacked up to maximum and started to evaluate the readings. Something was approaching at high speed. And the something apparently had a very well shielded reactor, because it was SUDDAR that had picked it up. A quick set of calculations showed that I wouldn’t be able to win a straight foot-race—it or they were approaching too fast. It was time for our tried-and-true doubling-back tactic. I had no idea what their maneuverability was like, so I calculated a conservative option and began accelerating at a thirty-five degree angle to their approach vector.

  The other ships reacted almost immediately, which told me they had SUDDAR detection capability. Light-speed limitations would have meant almost an hour’s delay before they could respond to my movement.

  The tableau developed slowly over the next several hours. Like a game of chess, everything was on the table. There would be no surprise tactics. The laws of physics would decide if I got past them. However, it was already obvious that closest approach would be, well, pretty close.

  It took almost a day to reach that point. I spent the time scanning them with everything at my disposal. SUDDAR and visuals confirmed six vessels: five very similar to the wrecked cargo ship and one that honestly reminded me of a miniature Death Star. “Miniature” being a relative term—the thing was almost a half-kilometer in diameter. Instead of an inset dish like the Star Wars prop, it had a flat section with what looked like a grid. I hoped the purpose wasn’t similar.

  Finally the laws of physics and reality made themselves clear, and I realized that I was going to sail past them, less than ten kilometers away. That was cutting it a little fine, but I’d take it.

  As I was nearing closest approach, and getting ready to thumb my virtual nose at the pursuers, I saw the Death Star-wannabe start to rotate, bringing the grid-wall to bear on me.

  This is not good.

  “Guppy, anything we can do about shielding?”

  [All resources are at maximum]

  I calculated that I could do a certain amount of jinking without losing my lead. I immediately started evasive maneuvers. However, the others had made the same calculations. The Death Star simply waited until I ran out of slack and zeroed in.

  The grid started to glow, then there was a p—

  [Alert! Controller replicant offline. SURGE drive offline. Requirements for self-destruct protocol have been met. Reactor overload engaged…]

  31. Taking Care of Business

  Howard

  January 2191

  Vulcan

  Riker was going to be video-visiting our descendants in a few minutes. By tacit agreement, he was the face of Bob. We didn’t want to confuse or, worse, creep out our sister’s descendants. But all the Bobs tuned in to the conversation whenever possible. It reminded us all that we used to be human, and that we had left our mark on the universe. Okay, our sisters had, but close enough.

  As usual, Julia was spokesperson for Clan Bob. People walked in and out of frame, stopped to make a comment or wave to the camera. The usual organized chaos, pretty much standard family stuff. Justin was a little older, and no longer content to sit on his mother’s lap. He kept running to get things to show Uncle Will. I grinned every time Justin was in frame. He was every Bob’s favorite: infinite energy, wide-eyed interest in anything and everything, and no idea at all what a scary and dangerous post-apocalyptic universe he’d been born into.

  “You’ll have three new great-greats, soon, Will.” Julia smiled happily. “There’s so much room here. It’s a complete reversal of how we felt back on Earth. It doesn’t feel like a sin to have children, anymore.”

  Will laughed. “We are sending more people your way, Julia. But even if we settled every last remaining human being on Romulus, it still wouldn’t be crowded. You have a new world, and a new start.”

  Justin pouted into the camera. “But we don’t have dimosaurs. I want dimosaurs!”

  “Sorry, space cadet,” Will replied. “They’re only on Vulcan. When you’re older and have your own ship, you can visit and see them.”

  “If any are left,” said one of the others, sotto voce.

  Julia turned and glared at him, and he blushed.

  “Howard tells me that the USE colonists are being careful about environmental impacts,” Will said, trying to defuse the moment of tension. “I understand that the Spits and FAITH are supposed to be doing the same.”

  “Not from what I can see,” the man said.

  “Richard is kind of a crank about the subject,” Julia said, looking slightly embarrassed. “Don’t let him get up a head of steam.”

  At that moment, I received a text from Riker. Is there a big problem with this?

  He’d frame-jacked to send the text, so I did the same as I replied. FAITH is constantly pushing their luck. I’ve had several
run-ins with Cranston about this and that. Richard’s comment doesn’t really surprise me. I’ll look into it.

  On camera, Will said to the group, “Howard is watching for that kind of thing, Richard. He’ll nip it in the bud. The enclaves sign an agreement before we emigrate them, dealing with stuff like human rights and planetary exploitation.”

  Richard nodded, and the conversation drifted to other subjects.

  It was over too soon. But the videos were archived, and got a lot of plays on BobTube.

  The thing about the FAITH colony bugged me, though. Cranston was really turning into a pain.

  * * *

  Sixteen surveillance drones lifted smoothly from their cradles and flew off to take up positions around Landing. I looked over at Guppy. “Everything in the green?”

  [No issues detected. All parameters nominal]

  The AMI controlling the surveillance system was an Artificial Machine Intelligence/GUPPI hybrid based on Bob’s work at Delta Eridani. It would combine the fast reflexes and multitasking of a true AI with the decision making capability of a replicant. Plus it would never get bored, or demand vacation time.

  This was one more item that I wouldn’t be needed for any more. The TODO list was finally getting smaller faster than I could add to it. Excellent.

  “Okay, then. We’ll let it run for a couple of days to establish processor loads, then we’ll add the Cupid Bug hunters to the system.”

  [The hunters are autonomous units]

  That was true. Given the highly focused nature of their task, AMIs were intelligent enough for Cupid Bug hunter operation. “Granted, but the central controller can take care of scheduling, maintenance, and repairs, as well as gathering statistics. I’m sure Bridget would like to know if encounters start to drop off.”