Bobiverse 2: For We Are Many

by Dennis E. Taylor

  I pantomimed silent laughter at him.

  Archimedes and I had talked about many things over the decades. I think he now understood that I wasn’t some kind of supernatural being, just someone with more knowledge than him. In a society where very little changed from generation to generation, it was easy to think of The Way Things Are as some kind of natural state. But Archimedes had seen enough new knowledge in his lifetime to understand that when you went from not knowing something to knowing something, it changed the way you lived.

  With the loss of that awe had come a much deeper friendship, and a better understanding between us. Archimedes thought a lot of the things humans took for granted were hilarious. Like the idea of rules for everything. Deltans simply wouldn’t stand for such regimentation of their lives.

  I found myself coming around to his point of view, more and more.

  In short order we arrived at Camelot. With an effort of will, I suppressed the Monty Python skit from my mind.

  As we walked across the land bridge, I looked ahead at the village proper. It was a sea of Deltans, in groups around the central fires, and smaller groups around individual fire-pits. I could see Archimedes’ point. No one would be able to keep track of this many people. Really, based on the old definition of a village where everyone knew everyone else, this could be thought of as an unhealthy development. Caerleon wasn’t much better. I wondered if the Deltans had a higher tolerance for crowding, or if they had developed a reluctance to split off villages because of the gorilloid and hippogriff threats. I resolved to bring it up with Archimedes when time permitted.

  We moved toward Archimedes’ hexghi. There I saw Diana, Buster, Belinda, and a couple of generations of children around the fire. Buster’s siblings had long since moved on to their own firepits, but Buster had stayed close with his father. I was glad of that.

  So, Diana. I was unreasonably nervous. Really, how could she associate me with The Bawbe? I appeared to be some random Deltan. Just the same, I couldn’t shake it.

  We sat down at the fire, and Archimedes introduced me to the adults using a common Deltan name, which I instructed the translation routine to render as Robert. I performed the proper ear-waggle greeting to each. Diana didn’t even twitch, and I relaxed.

  I noted that Diana was looking old and frail. It confirmed my feeling that Archimedes was aging more slowly than average. Probably the same gene responsible for his increased intelligence was affecting his lifespan. I felt a moment of relief that she might be gone soon, then a spike of shame at the thought. I might not like her, but she was Archimedes’ life mate, and he was my friend.

  The kids—I realized with a shock that these were Buster’s grandchildren—had started a game of tag while the adults talked, and one of them barreled into me. There was a moment of tense silence, then I laughed and poked the child with a finger. The tension dissolved and Diana passed around some jerky.

  Just family.

  72. Battle

  Bill

  February 2217

  Delta Pavonis

  All warfare is based on deception.

  -- Sun Tzu, Art of War

  The defensive crews were less than a week away from Delta Pavonis, and their tau was now down to the point where it was worthwhile having a conversation. Rather than asking them to jack up to our time rate, we would be slowing down to theirs. Because of the numbers, I was hosting the meeting in the moot VR.

  “First and most significant,” I said, “is that we’ve cracked the cloaking tech. It took a lot longer than I expected, so Jacques has only been able to retrofit about half of his nukes. There’s no time for you to do anything, so all the non-stealthed hardware—including Bobs—is going to be considered decoys.”

  I looked around the room at a sea of somber faces. We’d all gone into this with the attitude that it was probably a suicide mission. With remote backups, suicide missions weren’t as final as they used to be, but still… the person restored from a backup was not the person who created the backup. It was some comfort to know that your memories would go on, but it didn’t feel that it would be personal in some way.

  I glanced at the status window that I had put up. It showed the Others’ armada only two days farther out. We had very little time to deploy a defense.

  “How are we doing this, then?” asked Andrew, one of the squad leaders.

  I nodded to him, acknowledging the question. “I’ve discussed strategy with Butterworth. Unfortunately, most space battle strategy is theoretical, since there’s only been one space war. But I discussed options extensively with him, and the colonel did have some suggestions about deployment. He can’t be personally involved, of course, since he operates on biological time. For what it’s worth, I’ll be acting as his proxy.”

  There were silent nods around the circle. I added arrows and icons to the status window. “Your group is coming in from this side, and Jacques’ group will be coming in from here and here. We’ll hit in three waves, staggered so we’re not taking each other out. Hopefully the Others can’t redeploy defenses quickly enough and will have to split their assets into three groups instead.” The animation in the window played out a visual of my description.

  “While the Others are fending us off, the stealth bombs will come straight in. We hope that they will be able to get in close and do some significant damage.”

  I sat back, chin in hand, and studied the graphic. There was no subtlety at all. On the other hand, it was nice and simple, with few unknowns.

  * * *

  The first attack group was five minutes out when the Others registered their presence. The group’s trajectory brought them in at thirty degrees off of their approach line. I could see in the SUDDAR window that the Others were deploying drones to act as a first wave of defenders. There wasn’t enough detail at that distance to be able to tell, but we assumed they were rotating the death asteroids to target us as well.

  There was very little conversation as we approached. Each Bob presumably took the time to make peace with his own thoughts. Or update his backup. Either or.

  At about three minutes distance, there was a whoop from one of the dreadnaughts. “Just took a hit from a death ray,” he announced. “I got sparks, but no significant damage.”

  I smiled but didn’t comment. At this distance, even a version-3 Heaven vessel would have survived. We had to assume they were either massively overconfident, or that had been just a probe of some kind. At least one death asteroid was now discharged. It was unlikely it would be able to recharge in time to participate further in this battle.

  At one minute, I activated the general channel. “Time to rock, boys. Deploy all busters and nukes. Let’s light up the sky!”

  The Bobs did as ordered. Seventy-five ships became almost four hundred signatures. Now the Others would have to react. Death zaps would simply not be an option for taking us down.

  And sure enough, SUDDAR indicated a massive rearrangement of vessels. We had a couple hundred drones to deal with. Statistically, we should be able to get through the defenders with about half of our units, but that wouldn’t be enough to take the Others’ main vessels down. I was sure the Others must be smiling—or whatever they did—with glee at our pathetic showing.

  And finally, contact. Andrew’s group was the first to pass through the Others’ armada. At the speeds they were travelling, there was no chance of any actual visual contact. Star Wars notwithstanding, ships didn’t buzz around each other like World War II fighter planes. Everything happened in microseconds, and showed up only in status windows.

  Results from the first pass showed we’d lost about half of our busters and bombs, and eight dreadnaughts, but we’d taken out about twice as many of them. That was pretty good, and should wipe the smile-equivalents off of the Others’ face-equivalents.

  Apparently the Others agreed, because half of the death asteroids released zaps at our armada.

  “Report,” I ordered on the general channel.


  Responses came back. No further Bob casualties, although a couple of the dreadnaughts were doing emergency repairs. They must have been caught square in the middle of a beam.

  However, the bombs and busters weren’t particularly shielded, and any unit caught anywhere in one of the death-rays was dead. We had made a decision, based on this likelihood, to equip these units with regular radio comms only. No advanced SUDDAR, no SCUT, and no chance of giving anything away to the enemy.

  The second wave came in right away, not giving the Others time to regroup. They approached from thirty degrees off the Others’ flight line as well, coming in from a vector at 120 degrees of rotation. I watched in the status window transmitted by the group leader.

  The second wave passed through the Others’ armada as quickly as we had, but with much less organized resistance from the Others. We were able to put several nukes into a couple of big cargo carriers, and even into one of the death asteroids. The nuke must have hit a charged accumulator of some kind, because the pyrotechnics were truly epic—far more than could be accounted for by a low-yield fission bomb. Twin jets of white-hot plasma, glowing right into the x-ray band, shot out of the vessel in opposite directions. The surface of the death asteroid peeled back, then it completely disintegrated, spewing pieces in all directions. Cheers went up from all the video windows.

  The Others responded with a volley of something—possibly drones, possibly missiles—aimed at the receding attack group. The bogeys displayed truly incredible acceleration, in the hundreds of G’s. It took only moments for us to find out what they were.

  Fusion bombs.

  The second battle group had been clustered together—no reason to scatter, as far as they knew. Now they were melted slag. We’d lost twenty-five dreadnaughts and a couple hundred drones. Bobs looked at each other, stunned.

  But our third battle group was coming in, and we had no time to mourn. I sent a quick IM to the group leader, instructing them to scatter at the end of their pass.

  The Others started moving their defenses to the point a further 120 degrees around, where they expected us to come in, given a symmetrical series of assaults.

  Exactly what Butterworth had suggested they’d do.

  Our third group came in only ten degrees off the first group’s path, 130 degrees away from where the defenses were forming, completely blindsiding them. The dreadnaughts and drones tore through the defenders like tissue paper. Lobbed fission weapons took out two cargo vessels and another death asteroid.

  As the battle group exited the theater on the far side, they scattered. The Others launched another volley of fusion drones in pursuit. The Bobs had a massive head start, but the pursuers had that ridiculous level of acceleration. It was a footrace we couldn’t win.

  Everyone was intent on the developing drama, which left the door open for Butterworth’s next suggestion. A trio of lonely nukes, on ballistic trajectories, with virtually no emissions, now sailed in from the vector from which the Others had been expecting the third attack. Three flashes, and two more cargo vessels were drifting, offline.

  I imagine, somewhere in one of the death asteroids, some Others general was screaming invective at his subordinates while veins pulsed on his neck and forehead. Or some equivalent. In any case, the Others apparently decided to finally take us seriously. A massive series of SUDDAR pings emanated from their fleet, swamping our receivers. The transmission power was truly incredible, and my jaw dropped at the readings. I looked at one of the other Bobs. The sheer power behind that broadcast said, better than anything else they’d done, that we were gnats.

  And more to the point, it lit up every vessel and drone in the immediate area. Whether it would reveal our last surprise or not, well, we’d know in a few moments.

  It did.

  The Others launched a dozen fusion drones straight forward along their flight line, where several cloaked fusion bombs were approaching. This would have been our coup de grâce. Instead, it would be little more than a parting shot.

  I instructed the incoming nukes to begin evasive maneuvers. The Others might not be able to maintain a continuous bead on the cloaked units.

  The Others’ fusion drones deployed into a defensive grid, and detonated simultaneously.

  “Not bad…” Charlie said. “They estimated that pretty well.”

  I checked status. “They took out two of ours. The last one still looks operational. I don’t think they have time to do anything about it. It’s also interesting that they haven’t broadcast another ping like the last one…”

  “Like the gamma-ray blasts, it probably requires a recharge.”

  I nodded distractedly while I guided the last cloaked fusion weapon. Right into one of the death asteroids. It detonated perfectly. When the flash cleared, there was nothing left but scattered debris.

  We were done. We’d used up everything we had. Our battle groups, what was left, were heading away from the Others’ fleet at far too high a velocity to be able to turn around in any reasonable interval. By the time we could get back in the game, the Others would be at the Pav home planet.

  Eight death asteroids and eleven cargo carriers were still under power. If they decided to continue on and rebuild in the system, there would be nothing we could do. We held our breath, as the seconds ticked by.

  No change.

  I sat, stunned, as the Others continued on towards Delta Pavonis, and the Pavs.

  We’d failed.

  [Incoming message. In Mandarin]

  I was almost doubled over with nausea, but it was logical to find out what they had to say. “Put it on, Guppy.”

  You have proven to be more than food. You are pests. We will harvest this system, despite your pathetic attempts at defense. Then we will harvest your Sol and Epsilon Eridani systems. And your species will end its existence in our larders.

  Fuck.

  I tried to open a chat with Jacques, but got nothing. I pinged Andrew instead.

  “Hey Andrew. Any idea where Jacques is?”

  “Hey, Bill. Sorry, Jacques was killed during his group’s attack. We have a differential up to the last few minutes, so we’ll be restoring him as soon as we have a new vessel.”

  “Crap.” I rubbed my forehead. We had some spare matrices, but it could still be days before we were able to get that done.

  Andrew interrupted my train of thought. “Did he ever follow through on that plan to kidnap some Pav?”

  “Yeah. Kind of a worst-case response. I’ve triggered implementation already. We’ll get twenty thousand Pav off-planet before the Others get there. We’re not going to be gentle about it, though. We can’t afford to have a discussion and ask for volunteers.”

  The Pav were now an endangered species. I just hoped that Jacques had taken plant and animal specimens and such.

  73. Collection

  Phineas

  February 2217

  Delta Pavonis

  I closed the connection with Bill, and turned to Ferb. The defense of Delta Pavonis had failed, and we now had to compound the karmic deficit by ripping up to twenty thousand people from their homes by force.

  Jacques had put a lot of thought into the problem, and Ferb and I had expanded on the plan once we’d come online. It wasn’t going to be pretty. But there simply wasn’t time for explanation and debate. It should have helped that the people we were going to snatch would otherwise die. It didn’t.

  Jacques had selected two towns of the right size, in different parts of the target country, to maximize genetic diversity while still retaining community. We carried specialist drones in our holds, ready to do the deed.

  I hovered over my town, Mheijr, in the dead of night. If this was Earth, it would be about 3 a.m. A dog barked—well, the local equivalent of a dog did the equivalent of barking—but otherwise, there was no movement. Without an electrical grid, most places still went totally dark once everyone went to bed.

  I sent out the first wave of drones.
These were equipped with canisters of a heavy, odorless gas that we’d developed. It would render the victims unconscious for up to four hours. By then, hopefully, we’d have them all in stasis.

  The drones performed their task, then headed back to the cargo hold, and the second wave of drones exited to collect bodies. Each drone could hold two adult Pav. It would take about fifty trips per drone to collect the full ten thousand people.

  I hoped that we would come up under ten thousand in total rather than have to leave people behind. I dreaded what anyone would have to go through, waking up to find that almost everyone in their town had disappeared. It would be devastating, even without the inevitable suspicion that would fall on them.

  The operation completed flawlessly.

  Some comments over the SCUT from Ferb indicated that his end wasn’t going quite so swimmingly. I smiled, thinking of the ribbing I’d give him. Then I lost the smile when I realized neither of us would be in the mood.

  I’d emptied the town, with a count of 9,273. I checked with Ferb, to see what his head count would be like. His town was coming in under as well, so I implemented one of our contingency plans. There were a number of bases within a few hundred miles that housed either standing armies or perhaps some version of peacekeeping forces. I raided three of them, and brought my total up to within a hundred of my maximum capacity. Some military personnel would be worth having.

  The gas we had used would biodegrade within hours. By the time investigators were brought in, there wouldn’t even be an odor. Assuming they had time to do that before the Others got here.

  I pinged Ferb. “Ready to go?”

  He didn’t answer for a few milliseconds. I was just opening my mouth to repeat the question when he responded.

  “Yeah, looks like it. Woo hoo…”

  I nodded to myself. Yeah, woo hoo, indeed.

  74. Observing the Process