As I was nearing closest approach, and getting ready to thumb my virtual nose at the pursuers, I saw the Death Star-wannabe start to rotate, bringing the grid-wall to bear on me.
This is not good.
“Guppy, anything we can do about shielding?”
[All resources are at maximum]
I calculated that I could do a certain amount of jinking without losing my lead. I immediately started evasive maneuvers. However, the others had made the same calculations. The Death Star simply waited until I ran out of slack and zeroed in.
The grid started to glow, then there was a p—
[Alert! Controller replicant offline. SURGE drive offline. Requirements for self-destruct protocol have been met. Reactor overload engaged…]
31. Taking Care of Business
Howard
January 2191
Vulcan
Riker was going to be video-visiting our descendants in a few minutes. By tacit agreement, he was the face of Bob. We didn’t want to confuse or, worse, creep out our sister’s descendants. But all the Bobs tuned in to the conversation whenever possible. It reminded us all that we used to be human, and that we had left our mark on the universe. Okay, our sisters had, but close enough.
As usual, Julia was spokesperson for Clan Bob. People walked in and out of frame, stopped to make a comment or wave to the camera. The usual organized chaos, pretty much standard family stuff. Justin was a little older, and no longer content to sit on his mother’s lap. He kept running to get things to show Uncle Will. I grinned every time Justin was in frame. He was every Bob’s favorite: infinite energy, wide-eyed interest in anything and everything, and no idea at all what a scary and dangerous post-apocalyptic universe he’d been born into.
“You’ll have three new great-greats, soon, Will.” Julia smiled happily. “There’s so much room here. It’s a complete reversal of how we felt back on Earth. It doesn’t feel like a sin to have children, anymore.”
Will laughed. “We are sending more people your way, Julia. But even if we settled every last remaining human being on Romulus, it still wouldn’t be crowded. You have a new world, and a new start.”
Justin pouted into the camera. “But we don’t have dimosaurs. I want dimosaurs!”
“Sorry, space cadet,” Will replied. “They’re only on Vulcan. When you’re older and have your own ship, you can visit and see them.”
“If any are left,” said one of the others, sotto voce.
Julia turned and glared at him, and he blushed.
“Howard tells me that the USE colonists are being careful about environmental impacts,” Will said, trying to defuse the moment of tension. “I understand that the Spits and FAITH are supposed to be doing the same.”
“Not from what I can see,” the man said.
“Richard is kind of a crank about the subject,” Julia said, looking slightly embarrassed. “Don’t let him get up a head of steam.”
At that moment, I received a text from Riker. Is there a big problem with this?
He’d frame-jacked to send the text, so I did the same as I replied. FAITH is constantly pushing their luck. I’ve had several run-ins with Cranston about this and that. Richard’s comment doesn’t really surprise me. I’ll look into it.
On camera, Will said to the group, “Howard is watching for that kind of thing, Richard. He’ll nip it in the bud. The enclaves sign an agreement before we emigrate them, dealing with stuff like human rights and planetary exploitation.”
Richard nodded, and the conversation drifted to other subjects.
It was over too soon. But the videos were archived, and got a lot of plays on BobTube.
The thing about the FAITH colony bugged me, though. Cranston was really turning into a pain.
*
Sixteen surveillance drones lifted smoothly from their cradles and flew off to take up positions around Landing. I looked over at Guppy. “Everything in the green?”
[No issues detected. All parameters nominal]
The AMI controlling the surveillance system was an Artificial Machine Intelligence/GUPPI hybrid based on Bob’s work at Delta Eridani. It would combine the fast reflexes and multitasking of a true AI with the decision making capability of a replicant. Plus it would never get bored, or demand vacation time.
This was one more item that I wouldn’t be needed for any more. The TODO list was finally getting smaller faster than I could add to it. Excellent.
“Okay, then. We’ll let it run for a couple of days to establish processor loads, then we’ll add the Cupid Bug hunters to the system.”
[The hunters are autonomous units]
That was true. Given the highly focused nature of their task, AMIs were intelligent enough for Cupid Bug hunter operation. “Granted, but the central controller can take care of scheduling, maintenance, and repairs, as well as gathering statistics. I’m sure Bridget would like to know if encounters start to drop off.”
Guppy nodded. I’m sure the expression of sardonic amusement on his face was all in my imagination. After all, what does sardonic amusement look like on a fish, anyway?
And speaking of Bridget, er, Dr. Sheehy, I had a call to make. There was a small matter of a chemical analysis that I’d asked for.
*
“Sheehy.” Bridget briefly appeared in the video window, then exited frame to the left. The woman never stayed still, and always seemed to be working on several things at once. I couldn’t help be impressed by her energy.
“Hey, Bridget, it’s Howard.”
Dr. Sheehy’s face lit up as she came back into frame and sat down in front of the phone. We’d become fast friends over the last six months. We got along well, and she was a good break from too many Bobs. I tried not to think ephemeral when she was around.
“I guess you’re calling about that chemical analysis you wanted done?”
“Yup.”
“Well, you’ll be happy to know that it passes muster, and cleanly. No trace of methanol. It is completely potable.” She grinned. “Now, whether it’s any good or not…”
Bridget reached over and picked up the bottle that I’d delivered the previous day. She poured a small amount into a plastic glass and raised it in my direction. “Ca?aoireaca.” She downed the glass in one motion.
I watched closely, waiting for her to go rigid, or melt, or burst into flames. She swallowed the liquid, took a deep sucking breath, wiped her eyes, and said, “Smooth.”
“Really?”
“No.” Bridget made a face. “It’s not paint thinner, but it’s not Irish whiskey, either. Actually, since you used oak barrels, it’ll never be Irish. But if you squint your eyes and look sideways at it while yelling LAH-LAH-LAH, it could be whiskey.”
I nodded. “Well, I force-aged this stuff, so let’s not expect miracles. I’ll take a little more time with the production supply. And Riker thinks he can scan some proper sherry-infused barrel samples for me, for making Irish.”
“Sounds good.” Bridget gave me a sideways look. “Need a partner?”