I looked around for Riker, but couldn’t see him, so I looked at Bill. “We’re thinking that if Earth would shift some manufacturing capacity into stasis pods, we could move a lot of people in one shot.”
I glanced around at the crowd. Four or five dozen versions of my face looked back at me. Smiles, nods, frowns of concentration predominated. Okay, not so bad. Bobs were not subtle. If our presentation had been less than interesting, we’d know it.
“Questions?” Bill said.
Bedlam erupted. Okay, really not bad.
Neil leaned closer to me. “Isn’t it nice to be important?”
“I’m having second thoughts, thanks.”
Bill pointed to someone, and the chaos quieted.
Thor stepped forward. “How confident are you of the alien power core?”
I opened my mouth to reply, but Neil jumped in. “It works fine. Just as dependable as one of our own. And a lot more powerful.”
I glared at him and whispered, “You lie like a log.”
“Shaddup, you.”
“How many pods do you think you can make?” Thor continued.
“We have enough material to build a pod for every human being alive,” Neil answered. “Just not enough time. In the 3.6 years subjective trip time, we figure we can make just over five million of them.”
Bill turned and spoke to someone. “Will, how many could you put together at your end?”
Riker stepped forward. “No more than a couple of million. We’re working in non-relativistic time, but on the other hand, we don’t have piles of refined metals just sitting there. We have to salvage every kilogram of metal, and the pickings are getting thinner. It’s starting to slow colony ship production, as a matter of fact.”
The conversation descended into comparisons of critical paths, differing ramp-up strategies, result domains, and other, even less interesting things. I eyed Neil, and he nodded. As casually as possible, we sidled away from the debate and toward the bar. No one noticed our departure.
I leaned against a rail with a beer in my hand, and grinned at Neil. “We’re important.”
“Yeah, when they notice we’re gone, I’ll concede. Meanwhile…” He raised his beer in a toast.
Gotta love moots.
Kidnapping
Bob
September 2224
Delta Eridani (Eden)
I was sitting in the sun with Buster, watching him casually work a piece of flint, when the Deltan came running up. He bent over, gasping for breath for a few moments, then straightened. “Archimedes has been grabbed. I think it was some guys from Caerleon. Must have been.”
I leaped to my feet and almost yelled at the runner, “Have you told Donald? Anyone else?”
He nodded, still gasping. “Yeah, Donald’s gathering some hunters.”
I looked over to see Buster silently gathering his bow and arrows. He didn’t say anything; didn’t look at me or at the runner. His fur was flat, his inner turmoil telegraphed by his ears, which were curled in rage. Someone was going to die today.
We hurried over to the hunters’ tree, where a group was forming. Donald waved at me as I came up.
“Well, Robert, it looks like you and Archimedes might have been right. There’s only one reason for them to grab him.”
I shook my head. “Two reasons, actually. If Fred is involved, he may also be trying to get a reaction from me. I’m pretty sure I hurt his feelings, last time we met.” I glanced at Buster, standing beside me. “If Fred’s involved, today is his final day of life, I think.”
Buster stared straight ahead, still not looking at anyone.
I’d set spy drones to searching for any large, fast-moving parties of Deltans. Reports were now starting to come in. I checked the heads-up. It showed two different groups, but only one was on a determined beeline for Caerleon. My bet would be on that one.
I instructed the drones to try for close-ups, and gave them Archimedes’ profile to identify. Then I turned to Donald. “Chances are they’re on the East Trail, or will be soon. We can cut straight through the Deep Copse to catch up.” I hoped Donald wouldn’t question me. I knew for a fact that was true, but I couldn’t explain how without blowing my cover.
Fortunately, Donald took my word for it and started giving orders. In moments, we were running toward the Deep Copse, a thick grove of especially tall, old trees. Paradoxically, because of the thickness of the trees, there was very little underbrush to slow us down. We made it through in minutes.
I held up my hand to stop the group and made a show of listening, then gestured up the trail. We took off at a sprint. It took less than a minute to catch up to the Caerleon group, who I knew had been having a problem with their captive grabbing every tree and branch he could reach. From my position, it looked like they’d solved the problem by beating Archimedes unconscious and then carrying him.
A low growl escaped my throat, and I hoisted my spear. The Caerleon party, hearing our approach, stopped and formed a defensive semicircle, spears pointing outwards.
Fred stepped forward, grinning his usual smug, nasty grin. “Hello, Robert. Robert’s lackies. I suggest you accept the inevitable. Your friend is going to be—”
Fred looked down at the arrow protruding from his chest. With a surprised expression, he fell to his knees, then collapsed sideways to the ground.
I turned to look at Buster.
“Dibs,” he said with a shrug.
Unfortunately, although I could understand and sympathize with Buster’s actions, the Caerleon gang might retaliate by harming Archimedes. I would not allow that, even if it meant revealing that the Bawbe was still watching. I called up a squad of busters and sent them to the nearby trees, standing by.
If at all possible, though, we would take these guys out the old-fashioned way.
The Caerleons were still going through surprise at the quick death, but a few heads had started to turn toward their prisoner. With a roar of anger, I charged the spear line. My friends followed, yelling battle-cries.
I would easily be the first to reach the defenders. But how to handle it? I could, of course, take a couple of spear wounds without slowing my android form. But running around with spears sticking out of me would be hard to explain. On the other hand, I didn’t want any of my friends to take a spear. I had less than ten meters to decide on a plan.
Instead of slowing down, I accelerated. As I came almost to the flint tips of their spears, I threw myself down and sideways. Half sliding, half rolling, I passed under the spear points before the Deltans could react. My tumbling body took out three of the front defenders, and knocked down a couple behind them.
With the sudden hole in the defensive line, the Caerleons were unable to hold off the attackers. The defenders tried to swivel to close the gap, but left themselves open to attack from the side. I heard growls and the smack of colliding bodies, as well as the more cringeworthy cries of people being impaled.