HIP 84051
I settled into an orbit around HIP 84051-2. It was a young planet of a young star, according to the survey. Native plant life hadn’t reached the angiosperm stage, and animal life hadn’t figured out endothermia yet. I hoped that Phineas and Ferb had managed to pick up a lot of genetic samples on Pav before the Others arrived. According to updates from Bill over the last few decades, re-creating plants and animals from samples was getting a lot easier. Of course, that comment was based on Earth life, with which we were very familiar. Extraterrestrial stuff would take some more work.
Mind you, we didn’t have to decant the Pav right away. Life forms didn’t suffer degradation in a stasis pod. We could take our time, figure out the Pav biology, get the process working, then wake up the refugees. I’d like that.
I checked the notes on HIP 84051. The Bob that explored and reported this system was named Steve. There was no indication where his name came from. Maybe Steve Dallas from Bloom County? As good a guess as any. It wasn’t worth pinging him just to ask, even assuming he was connected to BobNet at the moment.
I spent a month going over his notes while I waited for Phineas and Ferb to arrive. Steve went into considerable detail about climate, ecology, geology and such. He seemed to be a bit of a keener.
Despite the fact that I was in a new star system, I found myself just going through the motions. I had no energy, no enthusiasm. It took me a while to realize what was wrong. I finally figured out that there was no joy here. This wasn’t expansion. This wasn’t a new colony, whether for humans or, in this case, Pav. This was being chased out—this was fleeing from a home that had been perfectly suited to them, to take refuge somewhere else that was nothing more than the best alternative available.
The thought was dangerously depressing. I had to get out of this funk or I’d be no good to anyone.
I waited until the colony ships were close enough, then popped in to visit.
“Hi, Phineas.”
“Hello, Jacques. Pull up a chair. Survey okay?”
I settled into an overstuffed easy chair. “No surprises. Not the greatest. Kind of a Devonian level of ecosystem. They can live there…”
“Right.” Phineas looked at me searchingly. “You’ve got a bit of the Dickie Downer thing going, I think.”
I laughed. “Guilty as charged. There’s nothing about this whole situation that doesn’t suck donkey balls. I guess it’s just gotten to me.”
“Mmm. Well, I have been following Bill’s blog on Somatic Regeneration from Genetic Material—”
“Wow, that’s really good, Phineas. I could hear the capitals.”
“Nyuk nyuk. Anyway, Ferb and I batted it back and forth during the voyage, and we took a look at the samples we have in stasis, and we think we could get Bill’s techniques to work on Pav biology.”
“Huh. Okay, so we hold off on decanting them for a while so you can try out your ideas?”
“I think so. The delay won’t harm them, and I’d like to hand them something a little better than this raw planet.”
I nodded. “Good. Let’s do that.”
I already felt better.
City
Howard
June 2221
Odin
Bridget found me lounging in my office, feet up on my desk, gazing abstractedly at a hologram floating in the air.
“What’s that?” She pointed at the image.
“You know how Marcus created those flying cities on Poseidon?”
“Mmm, hmm,” Bridget replied, “and a thorough shit-storm along with them. I read blogs, too.”
I grinned at her. “Well, it got me thinking. Odin is this huge freakin’ planet, and if you’re going to go all floating-city, why not here?”
“Okay. Is that his design?”
“No.” I gestured at the hologram. “I don’t need SURGE coils to stay afloat. Turns out normal Earth-pressure air in an enclosed bubble will float in Odin’s atmosphere, at the 1.5 bars level. I’ve designed the city within a prolate spheroid, which will be very stable, and more than strong enough with carbon-fiber reinforced materials.”
“Sure, but who’s going to live there?”
“Well, I was thinking maybe us.”
Bridget raised an eyebrow at me. “Uh, Howard, are you forgetting what VR stands for?”
“No, dear.” I grinned at her as she stuck her tongue out. “I’m thinking android bodies. Our very own city in the clouds. Don’t say I never give you anything.”
“You, sir, have far too much time on your hands.”
I nodded, then lost my smile. “Seriously, though, Bridget, this whole thing with the Others—it’s not out of the question that we might end up having to hide human colonies in gas giants, to avoid getting wiped out.”
“The Bobs are really concerned about this species, aren’t they?” Bridget’s eyes showed her concern.
“Yeah, Bridge, Delta Pavonis really kicked the stuffing out of us. I feel kind of bad that I’m not more involved in the war effort. I guess this is my contribution.”
“So we’d be the beta testers.” Bridget sat down at my desk and examined the model more closely.
“Yep. And of course we can’t really be hurt if things go bad.”
Bridget poked a finger at the model and turned it this way and that. She examined it in silence for several milliseconds. Then she turned to me. “And a front-row seat to watch Odin life in action. Okay, Howard. You’ve been wanting to get me involved in a printing project. Let’s see what we can do.”
Foreboding
Riker
December 2240
Sol
Bill stared into space, slowly twirling the glass of whiskey in his hand. I’d managed to tempt him with a scan of one of the more recent vintages from Vulcan.
Funny, Vulcan had become the acknowledged expert in alcoholic products, real or VR. Howard’s company—well, the Brodeur family’s company—was even financing construction of some AMI-controlled starships to start trade routes between systems. I privately thought that might be a little premature, but I guess life goes on, even with the threat of an alien menace. In any case, the project gave people something positive to focus on, so what the hell.
“It’s not bad,” Bill said. “Original Bob would have approved. And he’d have slowly gotten tanked without realizing it. I think this would sneak up on you.”
I grinned at the image. “Yeah, pretty sure.” I hesitated, and shifted in my chair.
Bill saw the movement and raised an eyebrow. “Okay, so this isn’t just a social call. I sort of assumed, anyway. What’s up, Will?”
“There’s been no activity from the Others, Bill. Nothing. No sorties, no attacks, no nothing. It smells.”
“Granted. But how much of that is just us being on edge?”
“Um. I’m wondering if a quick examination of GL 877 might be in order.” I tried to keep my voice casual, but the expression on Bill’s face showed me I’d pretty much failed.