***
Finally, the day arrived when I had my first batch of exploration drones. I had opted to load this batch with biological analysis systems. With a feeling of joy and anticipation, I sent them down, four to each planet.
I elected to start at the equators, where there would be the most diversity of life, and move slowly in pairs toward the poles. One unit of each pair would concentrate on aquatic life, and the other on terrestroid life. I knew I had no chance of covering even a fraction of a full biosphere, but there was one overriding question that needed to be answered: biocompatibility.
It took half a day for the first visual surveys to start coming in. The local life on Vulcan was diverse and included animals almost as big as dinosaurs. Romulus, on the other hand, had no animal life larger than a wolf, and the ecosystems seemed quite sparse. The difference between the two planets wasn’t explainable by just the difference in climate. I suspected that Romulus might have recently suffered an extinction-level event.
The real surprise came from cellular analysis. The results showed a very high probability that life on the two planets was related. Structurally, cells were too similar to be coincidence. I remembered the theories back on Earth that life might have travelled between Earth and Mars on meteoric fragments. Here, the two planets orbited each other, making the possibility even more plausible.
The one remaining question was biocompatibility—would Earth life be able to survive here? I thought back to the Star Trek episode, The Way to Eden, where the entire planet had turned out to be poisonous. It’d be a helluva thing to come sixteen light-years only to be unable to live here.
The space station was still a couple of months from completion, but I uploaded a preliminary report into storage. I tagged it to be sent to Sol, as well as to Bill. While it was unlikely that FAITH was still in operation almost twenty years after the war, it wasn’t impossible. And this was prime territory for spreading the human species off the one planet. I was a little surprised to discover that I cared enough to do that, but it wasn’t like it was costing me extra for the call. I guess I was coming to realize that exploration for its own sake was kind of pointless.
I didn’t have enough biological data to do a protein-by-protein analysis, but I could certainly categorize the carbs and fats and look for obvious issues like high levels of heavy metals or arsenic or such. The biological survey drones had a mechanical stomach that processed organics the same way a human stomach would. Analysis of the output would take about a day per sample, but I had all the time in the world.
Bill – December 2145 – Epsilon Eridani
Even on Earth, cells aren’t all the same. We have prokaryotes, eukaryotes, bacteria, archaea, and viruses. So no, I doubt there’s anything inevitable about any particular cellular structure. But if you’re asking about edibility, remember that we don’t metabolize cells, we metabolize carbs, proteins, and fats. What matters is what the alien cells break down into when our stomachs are done with them.
… Dr. Steven Carlisle, from the Convention panel Exploring the Galaxy
How does the human race survive past one generation? How do parents not just eat their children?
I watched the fusion signatures of Riker, Homer, and the decoy vessel disappear into the distance as they left the system. Riker and Homer would have to limit themselves to 2G to allow the version-1 vessel to keep up.
Homer and Garfield had been activated at the same time. Garfield, my clone, had agreed to stay and help me with what we were already starting to call the Skunk Works. Well, I was happy for the company and the help. I had a list of TO-DOs as long as my virtual arm. And I was looking forward to a little enthusiastic collaboration from someone other than a giant fish.
“I have a shot. I can take them out. Please?”
I turned to Garfield and laughed. “C’mon, Garfield, they’re gone now. Relax.”
Garfield released the experimental plasma weapon. I noted that he hadn’t actually charged it. But it’s the thought that counts…
“Maybe now we can get something done.” Garfield popped up the project list. He was up to date, since he’d come from one of my backups.
I couldn’t really disagree with him. As good a partner as Garfield had turned out, Homer had gone in the opposite direction. I don’t think Riker would have taken Homer if he’d been able to think of an excuse to reject his own progeny. But the trip to Sol was a priority and we hadn’t thought we could wait any longer. I just hoped Homer gave up the cartoon avatar and the incessant Doh’s before Riker decided to accidentally kill him.
“You know that we’re going to be building more cohorts, right? This is supposed to be a Bob factory.”
Garfield made a sound that could be interpreted as a grunt or a snarl. “You’re going to be building Bobs. I’ll watch from a distance.”
I sighed and shook my head. “Okay, Garfield. What’s first on the TO-DO?”
A list popped up in a window, with a small image of Garfield beside it, in full tuxedo and tails. “For your research and development pleasure today, we offer the following: completion of exploration drones, per Bob’s request; improvements to VR so we can interact more directly; continued work on the subspace transmission issue, which you’ve consigned to hell four times now; and artificial muscle-fiber analogues for constructing realistic robots slash androids.”
“The comedy routine isn’t going to become a habit, is it?” I glared at the mini-Garfield. “Because I’ve got primary control of the plasma cannon.”
Garfield grinned back at me. “Just imagine how Riker feels, with decades of Homer to look forward to.”
“Yeah, maybe we should have sent some spare Bobs along.” I reached over and expanded the list window. “Well, let’s get started, then…”
Riker – January 2157 – Sol
If you start with one hundred planets, remove the Jovians, remove the frozen Plutos, the blistering Mercurys, the too-small Marses, too-large super-Earths and the baking Venuses, rule out the dwarf stars, giants, variables, close binaries, and classes of stars that won’t live long enough to allow life to develop, you’re down to ten or so planets.
Now the bad news. Our sun is bigger than 80% of stars. Most of the stuff out there is type K and M stars, which are considerably smaller and dimmer than Sol. The comfort zone for those would be so close to the star that the planet would almost certainly be tidally locked. Maybe livable, but not ideal. Maybe three in a hundred planets even has a chance of being habitable, overall. And I think that’s optimistic.
… Dr. Stepan Solokov, from the Convention panel Exploring the Galaxy