“Guppy, this is freakin’ incredible. These planets are in the habitable zone, right?”
[Affirmative, although slightly to the cool side of the band. Climate will be mainly determined by presence of greenhouse gasses]
“Assuming there’s an atmosphere.”
[Atmospheres have been confirmed for both bodies. Composition still pending]
I let out a whoop.
“Guppy, poke me when we get full images, okay?”
***
A day later, I was in orbit around OE-1A, the larger of the two planets.
I stared at the images on the hologram for what felt like hours, totally entranced. The planets were imaged side-by-side, clearly showing the size difference between the two. Both planets had atmospheres, clouds, and extensive oceans. Most importantly, both planets had oxygen in their atmospheres. Large swathes of land showed a definite green color.
“Oh. My. God. I’ve hit the jackpot.”
I turned to Guppy. “Format a message to Bill. Include all telemetry that we’ve collected so far. Also, add names: Vulcan and Romulus.”
[Mission parameters do not permit naming planets]
“Mission parameters can go jump. I found them, so I’m damned well naming them. If any future colonists want to change it, they can make that decision.”
[Aye, sir]
I gazed at the image, grinning, then frowned. Exploration drones. Craaaaaaaap!
“Guppy, have we got anything on useful resources in the asteroid belt?”
[Negative. Detailed survey required]
“Jeez, it’s always something.” I sighed. “Okay, plot a course that will allow us to overfly the entire asteroid belt in a powered orbit. Then we’ll decide where to set up.”
***
The survey took several weeks to complete. The asteroid belt was surprisingly diffuse, and it took two complete revolutions around the parent star to map everything using SUDDAR. The results were disappointing, and I decided I’d have to examine the two Jovian systems for other sources of heavier elements. The inner Jovian was, in fact, quite large, so there was a good possibility that it had captured a large number of satellites.
I unshipped one of the autofactories and half of my scavenging units. I got them started on initial gathering and refining, then headed off to the inner Jovian.
OE-2 was certainly an impressive specimen of the Jovian class of planet. At almost three times the mass of Jupiter, it almost qualified as a brown dwarf. The twenty-hour rotation period created huge horizontal bands of weather, with perhaps a dozen cells that would have put the giant red spot to shame.
The planet also boasted several hundred satellites. At least 60 were large enough to be spherical, and half of those had significant atmospheres. I did a detailed scan of the smaller satellites and discovered a couple of dozen that had sufficient metallic and heavy element deposits to catch my interest. I unshipped a second autofactory and set it to work on a few of the better candidates.
Refining in two different locations created a logistics issue. Since the inner system location had enough material for initial needs, I set a couple of scavenger units the task of flying batches of refined material in-system on a regular schedule.
I arrived back at the in-system yard to find the first batches of exploration drones were almost ready. Satisfied that things were going well and that the AMIs could handle everything, I headed back to Vulcan and Romulus.
I spent the time building up detailed maps of the two planets. The larger, Vulcan, had significantly more CO2 and a thicker atmosphere, therefore a higher mean surface temperature. The smaller planet, Romulus, had actual ice caps, although judging from the change in size just since I’d been here, they might be seasonal. It was currently mid-spring in the northern hemisphere, and with a year only 285 Earth-days long, the seasons moved quickly.
***
Finally, the day arrived when I had my first batch of exploration drones. I had opted to load this batch with biological analysis systems. With a feeling of joy and anticipation, I sent them down, four to each planet.
I elected to start at the equators, where there would be the most diversity of life, and move slowly in pairs toward the poles. One unit of each pair would concentrate on aquatic life, and the other on terrestroid life. I knew I had no chance of covering even a fraction of a full biosphere, but there was one overriding question that needed to be answered: biocompatibility.
It took half a day for the first visual surveys to start coming in. The local life on Vulcan was diverse and included animals almost as big as dinosaurs. Romulus, on the other hand, had no animal life larger than a wolf, and the ecosystems seemed quite sparse. The difference between the two planets wasn’t explainable by just the difference in climate. I suspected that Romulus might have recently suffered an extinction-level event.
The real surprise came from cellular analysis. The results showed a very high probability that life on the two planets was related. Structurally, cells were too similar to be coincidence. I remembered the theories back on Earth that life might have travelled between Earth and Mars on meteoric fragments. Here, the two planets orbited each other, making the possibility even more plausible.
The one remaining question was biocompatibility—would Earth life be able to survive here? I thought back to the Star Trek episode, The Way to Eden, where the entire planet had turned out to be poisonous. It’d be a helluva thing to come sixteen light-years only to be unable to live here.
The space station was still a couple of months from completion, but I uploaded a preliminary report into storage. I tagged it to be sent to Sol, as well as to Bill. While it was unlikely that FAITH was still in operation almost twenty years after the war, it wasn’t impossible. And this was prime territory for spreading the human species off the one planet. I was a little surprised to discover that I cared enough to do that, but it wasn’t like it was costing me extra for the call. I guess I was coming to realize that exploration for its own sake was kind of pointless.
I didn’t have enough biological data to do a protein-by-protein analysis, but I could certainly categorize the carbs and fats and look for obvious issues like high levels of heavy metals or arsenic or such. The biological survey drones had a mechanical stomach that processed organics the same way a human stomach would. Analysis of the output would take about a day per sample, but I had all the time in the world.
Bill – December 2145 – Epsilon Eridani
Even on Earth, cells aren’t all the same. We have prokaryotes, eukaryotes, bacteria, archaea, and viruses. So no, I doubt there’s anything inevitable about any particular cellular structure. But if you’re asking about edibility, remember that we don’t metabolize cells, we metabolize carbs, proteins, and fats. What matters is what the alien cells break down into when our stomachs are done with them.
… Dr. Steven Carlisle, from the Convention panel Exploring the Galaxy
How does the human race survive past one generation? How do parents not just eat their children?
I watched the fusion signatures of Riker, Homer, and the decoy vessel disappear into the distance as they left the system. Riker and Homer would have to limit themselves to 2G to allow the version-1 vessel to keep up.
Homer and Garfield had been activated at the same time. Garfield, my clone, had agreed to stay and help me with what we were already starting to call the Skunk Works. Well, I was happy for the company and the help. I had a list of TO-DOs as long as my virtual arm. And I was looking forward to a little enthusiastic collaboration from someone other than a giant fish.
“I have a shot. I can take them out. Please?”
I turned to Garfield and laughed. “C’mon, Garfield, they’re gone now. Relax.”
Garfield released the experimental plasma weapon. I noted that he hadn’t actually charged it. But it’s the thought that counts…
“Maybe now we can get something done.” Garfield popped up the project list. He was up to date, since he’d come from one of my back
ups.
I couldn’t really disagree with him. As good a partner as Garfield had turned out, Homer had gone in the opposite direction. I don’t think Riker would have taken Homer if he’d been able to think of an excuse to reject his own progeny. But the trip to Sol was a priority and we hadn’t thought we could wait any longer. I just hoped Homer gave up the cartoon avatar and the incessant Doh’s before Riker decided to accidentally kill him.
“You know that we’re going to be building more cohorts, right? This is supposed to be a Bob factory.”
Garfield made a sound that could be interpreted as a grunt or a snarl. “You’re going to be building Bobs. I’ll watch from a distance.”
I sighed and shook my head. “Okay, Garfield. What’s first on the TO-DO?”
A list popped up in a window, with a small image of Garfield beside it, in full tuxedo and tails. “For your research and development pleasure today, we offer the following: completion of exploration drones, per Bob’s request; improvements to VR so we can interact more directly; continued work on the subspace transmission issue, which you’ve consigned to hell four times now; and artificial muscle-fiber analogues for constructing realistic robots slash androids.”
“The comedy routine isn’t going to become a habit, is it?” I glared at the mini-Garfield. “Because I’ve got primary control of the plasma cannon.”
Garfield grinned back at me. “Just imagine how Riker feels, with decades of Homer to look forward to.”
“Yeah, maybe we should have sent some spare Bobs along.” I reached over and expanded the list window. “Well, let’s get started, then…”
Riker – January 2157 – Sol
If you start with one hundred planets, remove the Jovians, remove the frozen Plutos, the blistering Mercurys, the too-small Marses, too-large super-Earths and the baking Venuses, rule out the dwarf stars, giants, variables, close binaries, and classes of stars that won’t live long enough to allow life to develop, you’re down to ten or so planets.
Now the bad news. Our sun is bigger than 80% of stars. Most of the stuff out there is type K and M stars, which are considerably smaller and dimmer than Sol. The comfort zone for those would be so close to the star that the planet would almost certainly be tidally locked. Maybe livable, but not ideal. Maybe three in a hundred planets even has a chance of being habitable, overall. And I think that’s optimistic.
… Dr. Stepan Solokov, from the Convention panel Exploring the Galaxy
There was something special about the Solar System. The schematic in the holotank didn’t do it justice, but even the schematic made me feel nostalgic.
It had only been about nine years’ personal time since I’d left Earth as Bob, but twenty-six years would have passed for most of humanity. A lot could have changed in that time. That the war was still raging was unlikely. Just the same, I wasn’t going to parade into the system with my high beams on, honking my horn. The version-2 Heaven vessels had better reactor shielding, and mine and Homer’s were beefed up even more. I didn’t want anyone to know we were here until we decided to show ourselves. The decoy was coasting in the Oort on minimal power, until we established a vector for it. Meanwhile, we flew powered orbits through the outer reaches of the system—close enough to pick up standard reactor signatures, but not close enough to let them detect ours.
It took several weeks, but we were eventually able to build up a picture of the inner system. Such as it was.
Homer popped up a video chat. I noted in passing that he had given up on the cartoon avatar and gone back to standard Bob. I guess limiting our chats to audio only had finally sunk in. Chances are he’d be getting revenge in other ways, though.
I found it incredibly annoying that Bob-6 had decided on that particular avatar. Original Bob had always found the cartoon character grating. No Bobs were identical, but Homer seemed to be way out there in left field. Quantum effects? Subtle differences in the hardware? Another item for the ever-expanding TO-DO. The practical effect, though, was that talking to the various Bobs felt more like talking to other people and less like muttering to oneself.
Homer popped up some arrows in the system schematic. “High levels of radiation at all these locations. Nukes, I guess. Long-range imaging of Earth looks bad, too.”
“Yes, I’d say they did a pretty good job of wiping themselves out…” I sat back and ran a hand through my hair—a nervous habit that, even as a replicant, I couldn’t get rid of. “… or so close to it that we can’t tell the difference. There’s just that one group of reactor signatures system-wide. I can’t even assume that those indicate humans. Could be robotic systems that haven’t gotten the memo yet.”
“We’ll get better definition on this pass,” Homer replied. “Then we can work out a plan.”
I examined the grouping closely—not that I expected to extract any more information by glaring at it. A small group of reactor signatures, more than two but less than ten, were flying a slow orbit that looked like it would intersect Earth in a couple of months. It certainly didn’t seem to be a military trajectory. It was far too leisurely—interception by opposing forces would be ridiculously easy. If any opposing forces still existed.
With a wave, I dismissed the schematic. “We’re speculating in advance of information. This is pointless. If you want to slow your frame-rate through the next week, that’s fine. I’ll work on my models.”
Homer snickered. “Got your glue and your paint? Or are these the anatomical kind? Woo woo!”
With a grimace, I disconnected. I found it hard to believe that there was anything in Bob’s personality that could have produced such an irritating ass. If Homer had displayed the slightest reluctance to accompany me back to Earth, I would have cut him loose and tried again. But, no such luck.
I activated my physics simulation and popped up my whiteboard. Bill and I seemed to be the only Bobs that were really captivated by this whole subspace thing. I would love to make a breakthrough before Bill, and I would include a neener neener with the announcement. Realistically, though, this was a sideline for me. Bill had nothing else to do, and didn’t have to spend years at relativistic speeds.
***
We coasted out of the system until we felt it was safe to reactivate drive systems, then turned into a vector that would intercept the decoy. Communications with the AMI pilot indicated no news, not that we expected anything this far out.
The close-up on our last fly-by had indicated six signatures. The next step would be to see if they were military, if they were manned or automated, and if they were friendly.
It was time to use the decoy.
***
I put my feet up on the console and played with the armchair controls. The view on the bridge view screen showed the trajectory of the Heaven-2A as it crossed the orbit of Jupiter. I paused to take a sip of coffee, then turned to Guppy. “Approach vector looks nominal.”
Guppy looked good in the Federation uniform. Well, good for a bipedal fish. I’d finally decided that Star Wars and Star Trek shouldn’t mix, and replaced his white outfit. I doubt he even noticed.
[Vessel will arrive in Jupiter orbit at zero relative velocity, in 35 hours]
“Any indication of pursuit or interception?”
[Two reactor signatures, vector indicates interception course]
“Excellent. Steady as she goes, then.”
Thirty-five hours to a replicant lasted as long or as short a time as we needed it to. I knew that Homer played with his frame rate to fit the situation, but I felt a sort of stubborn pride in staying in real-time. In any case, I had the sum of human knowledge to study in the libraries that came with the ship. And my subspace models, of course.
The Bobs never ceased to be surprised at the pace of scientific progress—or lack of it, to be more accurate—in the hundred-odd years since Original Bob had died in Las Vegas. There had been advances in what could only be referred to as “practical” engineering, but theoretical work had all but stopped with the advent of FAITH. We s
till weren’t sure why the USE, at least, hadn’t continued to pursue theoretical research. After all, they were the home of CERN, the LHC, and some of the best and most original thinkers in history. Political pressure from FAITH might have had something to do with it, although the global economic depression caused by Handel and his cronies probably figured prominently as well.
Sadly, the libraries were very weak in accurate historical data. The few references to that time period were so blatantly propagandized as to be laughable.
But enough woolgathering. Today, now, we had to deal with the situation in front of us.
The Heaven-2A was now within SUDDAR range of the approaching ships, and the bridge view screen was becoming too crowded. I abandoned VR consistency and popped up a holographic display in front of me. The SUDDAR pings couldn’t pick up fine detail at that distance, but it was already obvious that these were Brazilian probes, similar to the Serra do Mar. And therefore probably controlled by Medeiros clones.
Per our plan, at the point where the Heaven-2A would reasonably have detected the incoming opponents, it changed course and fled, accelerating at 2.5 g. Right on schedule, the incoming ships matched course and launched missiles. It took a while, but the missiles eventually found their target. The decoy relayed a brief image and SUDDAR scan of the missiles approaching at great speed, then the signal cut off.
I accepted the incoming chat from Homer. He opened the conversation. “Well, that was illuminating.”
“Sure was,” I replied. “Did you notice that the missiles have SURGE drives now?”
We Are Legion (We Are Bob) (Bobiverse Book 1) Page 12
