“Correct, unless he’s giving separate orders to different squads. And in that case, I think we’d have picked up on multiple transmissions.”
“Excellent.” I considered for a millisecond. “Attention everyone. We are going to split into groups, by the numbers, and execute strategies one through four. Let’s see how well the AMI pilots handle too many different scenarios. Verne and Surly, activate the radio jammers.”
Everyone acknowledged, and we split off in various directions, each vessel accompanied by its personal cloud of drones and busters.
For a wonder, it appeared to work. Some of the Brazilian AMIs seemed to be coping, but more of them became confused. There was a small group that would rush towards a Heaven contingent, stop, rush towards another one, then reverse and repeat. Gotta love AMIs.
And then Medeiros panicked. Unable to regain control of his drones, he cranked up his radio transmission power and attempted to outshout the jammer. He might as well have put on a hat with a flashing red light. Verne and Surly immediately released the death squad—a batch of busters specifically programmed to latch onto the Medeiri with SUDDAR and not to let go until they were space junk. The death squad shot forward at close to forty G, and I imagined them yelling “Wheee!” in high-pitched minion voices.
In next to no time the death squad surrounded the Medeiri—there were two Brazilian vessels—and destroyed them. However, this time we were going to be thorough. As soon as they got the recall order, the busters took off after the Brazilian drones. There would be no peace until every piece of Brazilian equipment in the system was obliterated.
*
It took a further eighteen hours to track down every fusion signature in the system. I took a video call from Elmer.
“Looks clear now. Anything still alive will have gone to ground. Time to implement phase three?”
“You bet, Elmer.” Again I switched to command channel. “Okay, everyone. Phase three. Surly, release the hunter-seekers.” I heard several snickers, hastily suppressed. Dune didn’t have a particularly good reputation among the Bobs.
The hunter-seekers were essentially drones optimized for long-distance searching. Their SUDDARs were able to reach to almost four light hours. By overlapping search fields, they could get increased definition of anything they ran across. It would take a week, but they would cover every inch of the star system, identify any refined metal up to a kilometer deep underground, and relay that information to busters for remedial action.
Meanwhile, we examined the battle records.
“That’s an Alpha Centauri Medeiros,” Hank said.
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.” Hank pulled up images of the 82 Eridani Medeiros group from our first battle, then images of the Alpha Centauri Medeiros group as recorded by Calvin and Goku.
The differences were subtle, but the two probes were definitely based on slightly different designs. It came as no surprise that the Brazilians would have worked on improvements even as they were building and launching probes. Apparently the first and second probes to leave Earth had been—Oh, hold on. That would require three different launches from Earth. One to Epsilon Eridani to fight Bob-1, one to Alpha Centauri, and one to 82 Eridani. Sure enough, my memory of Bob’s Medeiros was yet a third design variant.
That meant that we couldn’t depend on our estimates of the total Medeiri in the universe.
Life just sucked, sometimes.
I announced this information to the squad, and got the expected groans.
“Okay, guys. Looks like Medeiros will continue to be our Snidely Whiplash, showing up in every episode to set traps and twirl his mustache. But meanwhile, we have this system. Let’s split up and finish the survey. You know that there are colony ships on the way to Vulcan that can be redirected here with minimal delay. We want to get that word to them as soon as possible, if it’s warranted. And let’s keep in mind that Bill wants tech samples. We’re looking especially for cloaking technology and fission bomb designs.”
This was something all the Bobs could get behind enthusiastically. War was something we did reluctantly and only by necessity. Exploration, well… that was fun.
*
“Wow, Milo really did hit the jackpot.” Verne grinned from ear to ear as he popped up survey results.
The rest of us nodded, grunted, or muttered “hell yes” according to our temperaments. This was indeed a major find. Two habitable planets, one to the inside edge of the habitable zone, and one to the outside edge. The outer planet had two moons, one of which was also habitable, although barely. The air was very thin—it would be like living in the Andes. You’d need to acclimate over time.
Except that Bill had taken on terraforming as a hobby…
I grinned at the thought, producing quizzical looks from some of the others. The moon’s atmosphere would outgas over geological timescales, but we could replenish it over human timescales. It would require ongoing maintenance, but it had been a long time since humanity had just accepted the environment as we found it.
We bumped up the priority on biocompatibility analysis. If everything checked out, this could be worth redirecting in-flight colony ships for.
51. Wedding
Howard
April 2195
Vulcan
The bride was beautiful. The groom was French. And I wanted to be drunk. I even talked to Bill about modifying the VR. He told me to quit being an idiot.
And idiot is what I was being. Hello? Earth to Howard. Computer, remember? I was on my best behavior, wished them well, made small talk, and left as soon as I could.
I made a call to one of two lawyers doing business in Landing. Yes, lawyers. Some things you just can’t get rid of.
Ms. Benning picked up right away. “Good afternoon, Mr. Johansson. I have the paperwork completed, and everything has been properly filed. We just need a few signatures from the other two parties, and everything will be legal.”
I nodded. “Any issues with me not being, um, human?”
“Nothing is ever settled in law, as you may well know.” She smiled into the phone. “But filing two sets of paperwork, one based on you having a legal standing and one based on the converse, should take care of any but the most determined challenges.”
“Thank you. Forward the paperwork to the Brodeurs. I’ll make sure they sign it and return it promptly.”
I hung up the phone and sighed deeply. Once they signed the papers, Mr. and Mrs. Brodeur would own 100% of the distillery. It would be my wedding present to them. Plus, it would leave me with no ties to Vulcan. And that would be good.
*
Dexter popped into my VR, raised his coffee in salute, and sat down. He had escorted Exodus-7 to Vulcan and had taken my offer to stay on as resident Bob.
He appraised me without speaking for several milliseconds. I waited, content with the silence.
“So, you’re joining the freakin’ Foreign Legion. Could you be any more cliché?”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “I guess I am. On both counts. What’s it to ya?”