Bobiverse 2: For We Are Many

by Dennis E. Taylor

“Will you look at that…” I leaned back in my chair and shook my head in disbelief. Even Guppy looked impressed. I think. Really hard to tell with a fish.

  [The planet is completely encased in metal]

  “Or is completely made of metal. Do we actually know if there’s a planet underneath that?”

  [The engineering for an artificial structure all the way down would be impressive]

  I experienced a jolt of irritation. I was the engineer, and Guppy had just handed me my ass. He was right, of course. A completely metal planet all the way to the core would require some truly astonishing engineering. A totally encased planet, maybe with a lot of underground structures, would make a lot more sense.

  The problem was, we really didn’t know for sure. And I was beginning to think that astounding engineering might be exactly what we could expect from the Others. I turned to the main event on the display.

  “That is what I think it is, right?”

  [Based on what we can detect, it appears to be the beginning of a Dyson Sphere]

  Ah-yep. Truly astounding.

  The orbit just to the inside of the inner planet was crazy busy. Fusion signatures, radio traffic, SUDDAR emissions, and high-albedo craft flitting around. And that was just the small stuff. Floating in orbit, spaced equidistantly around the sun, were massive structures. Analysis indicated that they conformed to a spherical curvature with the same radius as their orbit. They were, essentially, the beginning of a globe around the star.

  “Well, we know where the metal went. We can guess where the…” I couldn’t finish the thought. “Any idea of population based on what we have?”

  [Impossible to estimate without more information on subject biology]

  Hmm, fair enough.

  I turned to the other terrestroid planet in the system. Atmosphere blocked a lot of direct observation, but infrared and spectroscopic analysis indicated generally breathable air, though with a lot of pollutants. And the temperature would be close to fatal for a human.

  “My guess is that’s the home planet. And they global-warmed themselves almost to extinction before getting into space.”

  [Reasonable]

  Out of idle curiosity, I started putting together a simulation to predict how they would assemble the Dyson sphere, how long it would take, and how many systems they’d have to plunder. I had to make a lot of assumptions, but I needed to start somewhere. I was immersed in the problem when I was interrupted by Guppy.

  [Alert! Proximity alert! Incoming!]

  “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me! How are they detecting us? I’m not even using radio!” In one sense, that was a good thing, since it would mean they didn’t have any idea which direction we were coming from. In another sense, I was being chased, which was much less of a good thing.

  I spared a few milliseconds to review the SUDDAR results. Our improved SUDDAR, courtesy of Bill, had given me an earlier warning of the approaching enemy. Again, the same formation as the two previous occasions. Well, they were consistent, anyway.

  They were coming up from behind, so there was no opportunity for our traditional trick. This was going to be a straight-out stern chase. Which meant I would find out who had the better legs.

  I immediately sent an update to Mario via SCUT. I also started on a baseline backup as well, with plans to add periodic differential backups.

  All of this analysis and planning took perhaps twenty milliseconds. I turned my ship away from Gliese 877 and cranked the SURGE drive up to maximum. Interestingly, the Others did not react immediately. There was a half-hour delay before I saw them change their course. That was too quick for a visual reaction, so it meant that I had a thirty-light-minute advantage in SUDDAR range.

  Unfortunately, I seemed to be about 2.5 g’s outmatched in the SURGE department. Pings indicated that they were accelerating at 12.5 g on my tail.

  I was going to lose the footrace.

  I briefly considered using the SUDDAR jamming, then mentally slapped myself. Jamming wasn’t like cloaking, it was like blinding everyone with a searchlight. They’d be able to follow the emission like a beacon.

  My only advantage was the apparent difference in range between my SUDDAR and theirs. If I could keep myself in that range long enough, I might be able to jink out of their view entirely.

  Over the next several days, I changed my vector at random times, in random directions, but always with the intention of extending my lead. The Others kept cutting the distance, then I’d pull a fast one and extend it. I was subtly training them to expect certain behaviors from me, and I watched for them to start anticipating my moves.

  Finally they were doing exactly what I expected of them. I made a predictable turn, then as soon as I judged myself to be out of range, I turned to an unexpected vector and shut down all systems. By my calculations, I’d stay out of SUDDAR range as they passed by. With no reactor signature I should be invisible since I was certainly too far away for a visual.

  * * *

  I coasted for three days, unwilling to take a chance of attracting their attention. There was a good chance that they were quartering the area, trying to reacquire my trail. But given the immensity of space and the speeds we had been travelling, for every second that passed, the volume that they had to search expanded faster than they could search it.

  On the fourth day, I bundled up all my observations and data, added a differential backup, and squirted it off to Mario.

  There was something about the whole thing that nagged at the edge of my mind, though.

  The timing of the appearance of the Others’ patrol groups wasn’t consistent with following or chasing the probes. It was more as though they spotted them and came running, but not before the probes were already at or near rendezvous. Could the Others be detecting our radio interaction? That would require an amazing level of sensitivity, but then they did have that big grid, which might be good for more than deep-frying Bobs. And if they’d followed the direction of the probe’s final transmission, that would explain how they’d found me in the first place.

  I had to test the theory. I knew I was taking a chance, but the payoff was too huge if I was right. We could use this against them. And maybe they’d be dumb enough to fall for the same evasive maneuver twice.

  I sent a probe out a couple of light-seconds and set up a conversation. I made sure my backup was up to date and verified. Then I sat back to wait.

  * * *

  [Proximity Alert! Incoming ships!]

  I checked the SUDDAR, and sure enough, the Others were coming straight at me. From behind, again, which meant another straight footrace. Because I’d been running silent, it was their SUDDAR pings that alerted me to their presence. Unfortunately, that meant they could now see me.

  I cranked up the reactor and the SURGE drive to emergency levels and started evasive maneuvers, but I wasn’t likely to escape them this time. They had a good head of steam coming in and had better acceleration than I did. Well, I guess I was going to find out if—

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

  39. Bob-Moot

  Bill

  August 2188

  Epsilon Eridani

  I hadn’t called the meeting to order yet. Forty-three Bobs milled around the banquet hall. Knots of people argued, discussed, or just hugged and got caught up. Bob-1 formed the center of a dense cluster of Bobs, describing his Deltans to a rapt audience. It was interesting to watch. Bobs more than a generation or two removed from him seemed to treat him with reverence, as though they were meeting the pope.

  I looked around the room. These were all the Bobs that had upgraded to SCUTs, and some of them were physically up to thirty light-years away. I grinned at the heady feeling from that knowledge.

  A dozen Jeeveses circulated, supplying beer, wine, coffee, and food of every kind I could think of. Virtual, of course. But still.
>
  I’d adjusted the acoustics several times to keep the background noise down. That was cheating a little and generally frowned upon when hosting a VR. But this wasn’t really a social event, despite appearances.

  The latest data from Hal had caused a firestorm of debate.

  The weapon that the Others used was in fact some kind of gamma ray emitter. Theories about how it worked had been bouncing around BobNet ever since.

  It was time to get this show on the road. I held an air horn above my head and tooted it twice. As expected, it got everyone’s attention. And a round of boo’s. We Bobs don’t really respect each other all that much.

  “Okay, hold your love. It’s time for this meeting to come to order. We have about as much information as we’re going to get without some more concerted—and overt—investigation of the Others.”

  An undercurrent of growls greeted the mention of the Others. Medeiros had long since disappeared off the radar as our number-one enemy. The Others might not be aware of us, but we’d already declared war.

  “Thor, you—” I waited as the laughter died down. Yeah, Thor. I guess it was inevitable that someone would eventually go in that direction, but we still all got a kick out of it. At least Thor hadn’t altered his physiology to match or started carrying around a hammer.

  “Ahem. You have the best thesis on the Others’ weapon. Can you give us a capsule summary, please?”

  Thor stepped up. “Okay, we’re positive that it’s some extremely high-energy electromagnetic beam in the gamma-ray range. It has incredible penetrative power, and would be immediately fatal to biological life. I have no doubt that’s what they use to kill planetary ecosystems. They probably employ multiple devices for full coverage.”

  Thor called up a particle diagram. “Damage to electronics comes not from the gamma radiation per se, but from the secondary ionization induced in the structure. My proposed solution is two layers of depleted uranium alternating with two layers of electrostatic shielding to take out the charged particles. This, on top of some extra hardening of our electronics, should allow us to survive a zapping.”

  “You first!” came a shout from the back of the room.

  When the chuckles died down, I said, “Fortunately it won’t be necessary to bell the cat ourselves. I’ve given the summary and a set of Thor’s diagrams to Mario, and he’s going to send one of his Bobs to test it out with a couple of probes. I think Hal has volunteered. He wants to get back at them for killing him.”

  This was met with cheers of approval and a truncated rendition of “Bicycle Built for Two.” I waited until relative quiet returned, then turned to Garfield. “Care to give us your theory on the weapon itself?”

  Garfield stepped up and bowed to the audience with a grin. “The size of their Death Star wannabe—I’ve been calling it the Death Asteroid—says it all, I think. That thing is probably all fusion reactors and accumulators of some kind. Through all the chases of the various Bobs and drones and scouts, they’ve never fired one twice in the same encounter. That indicates to me that discharging it is expensive in some way. My guess is that they have to charge up the accumulators for some ridiculous amount of time before they can fire. So one strategy in a dogfight would be to get them to fire at a decoy. We just have to have something that looks dangerous enough.”

  Garfield’s presentation was met with quiet nods and thoughtful looks—the ultimate compliment in a Bob-moot.

  “Resources?” I looked over at Hungry. Yeah, Hungry had happened to pick a direction that brought him in line with one of my transmissions.

  He started to answer, but was interrupted by Wally.

  “Hold on a minute!” Wally stepped forward. “Have we decided on war already? I mean, yeah, we have to do something, but have we decided how much yet?”

  There were scattered groans and a few catcalls, but it was a good question.

  I nodded to Wally, then said, “I’ve been operating under the assumption that we’re going for all-out war. But really, are we prepared to wipe out an entire intelligent species? Even one that has done the same to others?”

  Someone at the back yelled, “Hell, yes!”

  “Yeah, okay. We’ll probably vote on that at some point, but—”

  Thor interrupted me. “I think a better question is, can we wipe them out? The mining vessel wreck that Mario found had superior tech, some of which we’re still trying to figure out. They have the Death Asteroid. They have better SURGE drives than us. They can beam power through SUDDAR…”

  “And they’re building a friggin’ Dyson sphere,” Wally added.

  “Here’s the thing,” Thor said, trying to regain the floor. “Right now, all we’ve done is make some random incursions around the edges. No real damage or anything. We’ll get exactly one chance for a surprise attack of some kind. After that, it’ll be toe-to-toe punch-ups and hit-and-run attacks on both sides. The million-dollar question is, can we win that war?”

  Dead silence. Every Bob present understood the ramifications. If we picked a fight and lost, the damage would impact more than just our egos. Bob-1’s Deltans, human colonists, and any other intelligent species in the area might be drawn into the conflict, or at least exposed to future attack. It was a daunting responsibility. We had to be sure we could win before we went in swinging.

  “And if we don’t do anything,” Garfield pointed out, “they’ll keep on raiding other systems to build their damned sphere. Hal calculated that they’ll have to clean out another hundred systems or so to finish that thing.”

  “Plus or minus fifty,” Hungry added.

  “Yeah, okay, the error bars are huge. But fifty to a hundred and fifty systems means maybe five to fifteen systems with life, based on our admittedly limited experience. And at least a couple will have intelligent life.”

  “Yes, because that couple will include Deltans, Earth, and the colonists. A hundred systems requires them to go out at least thirty to forty light years, after you discount the systems with little to no metallicity. That covers the complete Bobiverse, as far as I know.”

  I looked around at the audience for any other comments. No one seemed inclined to volunteer an opinion. “Okay, guys, time to wrap up the town hall part of this soiree, although you’re all welcome to stay as long as you want and discuss things with each other.” I waited a moment for any objections. “Our big issue seems to be the risk involved in going to war with a species that appears to be more advanced than we are and probably outnumbers us. Let’s meet in a week and see if we have anything new on that front.”

  People immediately formed into small groups, and the Jeeveses began circulating again with food and drink.

  40. Gotcha

  Riker

  February 2178

  Vulcan

  The man sat in front of a large bank of monitors. He watched one for a few moments, then moved to the next. He never seemed to stop, never rested.

  The little red farmhouse sat far to the north of VEHEMENT central. Nothing about it was distinctive. No visible technology, no radio broadcasts, nothing to indicate this was anything other than the home of some elderly recluse.

  Except for an occasional scatter of maser radiation. I grinned as I watched him work. A maser passing through fifty kilometers of atmosphere was not quite undetectable, if you were sufficiently motivated. A small bit of radiation scattering, a slight warming of the air…

  Passive detection meant he didn’t know I’d picked up his signal. It meant he didn’t know I was listening in on his conversations. Encrypted SCUT communications meant he couldn’t detect my drones.

  Well, well, well. Time for payback. But first, I wanted him to know…

  41. Casualties

  Bob

  July 2182

  Delta Eridani

  [Alert! Activity outside normal parameters!]

  I looked up, eyes wide. Guppy had standing orders to alert me if anything unusual occurred in or around the village. Of course
Guppy, being Guppy, was short on details.

  I activated the village VR, and found myself in the middle of a full-scale battle. At first I thought it was a gorilloid attack, but quickly realized that no gorilloids were in evidence anywhere. Instead, Deltans battled Deltans with spears, clubs, and axes. I could see a dozen or more bodies, either unconscious or dead.

  Archimedes!

  I ordered the VR to zoom in on Archimedes and his family. To my relief, I found that their tent was just outside the edge of the riot. Archimedes and Buster stood with bows in hand and arrows nocked. Belinda and Diana stood to either side, holding spears. That sight, as much as anything else, unnerved me. Neither female had ever shown interest in anything weapon-related.

  I knew that father and son enjoyed a well-deserved reputation as expert shots, though. In fact, the edge of the battle seemed to particularly avoid the area immediately around his tent. Just as well. Fallout or not, if someone threatened Archimedes, they’d earn a visit from a personnel buster.

  Marvin popped in. “What the hell? What caused this?”

  “No idea, Marv. I was working on something else when Guppy alerted me. I’ll review the surveillance when I have time, but right now I just need to keep Archimedes safe.”

  Marvin nodded, and took over control of a couple of busters just in case.

  We waited, tense. Archimedes and Buster drew back on their bows and took aim a couple of times, but in every case, whatever Deltans had attracted their attention thought better of it and moved off.

  Eventually the action died down. Deltans began backing away from the melee, still brandishing weapons. And now we had a chance to see the carnage. Property damage in the area of the riot was total, of course. Hopefully the owners had managed to flee the scene, but they’d be rebuilding from scratch. I counted seventeen bodies lying motionless on the ground. More than twice that number were bleeding and calling for help.

  I wanted to throw up. What could possibly justify this? What could have set it off?

  Marvin and I exchange glances and, without a word, I shut down the VR.