We Are Legion (We Are Bob)

Book 2: Chapter 2: Colony Site

Book 2: Chapter 2: Colony Site

Howard

September 2188

Vulcan

Colonization of a new planet was always so easy in science fiction. Actually, scratch that. It was never easy. Something always came out of the woodwork to endanger the colony. Well, they got one thing right. Sort of.

On the plus side, nothing was bursting out of people’s chests. However, setting up a human colony on Vulcan was turning out to be a little bit like being pecked to death by ducks. Large ducks. With teeth and claws. Milo’s notes and planetary catalog made it very clear that setting up would require attention to defensive strategies. The ecosystem was prolific and competitive.

The colony ships Exodus-1 and -2 orbited Vulcan, most of the colonists from the USE enclave still in stasis, waiting for the settlement teams to prepare a site. Construction teams, security teams, and engineers worked day and night to clear enough jungle and build a home for this first wave of humanity.

The USE colonists would also be expected to provide some support to future colony ships. Exodus-3 was only a few months behind us, and more would be coming as fast as Riker could build them.

Like we needed the extra pressure.

Five days after humans set foot on Vulcan, the planet claimed its first casualty.

I nodded to Guppy, acknowledging the information. I took a moment to minimize the monitoring window that had been floating in the air in front of me, and ordered the construction AMIs to continue on their own. They could handle most of the tasks involved in building the orbiting farm donut, and they would text me if they ran into something above their pay grade.

I turned in my chair and raised an eyebrow at Guppy, inviting more information. But the GUPPI system interface, in the form of an avatar resembling Admiral Ackbar, wasn’t inclined to volunteer anything beyond the basic facts. Huge fish eyes blinked at me, waiting for a command. Accepting the inevitable, I motioned with my hand, and he pushed the video window to me.

The window showed the head of security, Stéphane Brodeur, with that look people get when they’re on an adrenaline high—wide eyes, slight sheen of sweat, nostrils dilated. He began to speak as soon as he saw me. “There has been an attack. The therapod-like predators that we’ve tagged as raptors. Northwest corner, at the fence construction boundary.”

Brodeur spoke with a pronounced Quebecois accent. I wondered idly how he had managed to get into the USE colony, but dismissed the question as irrelevant. I frame-jacked for a moment and sent a couple of drones to the fence construction area, then returned my frame rate to normal. A human being wouldn’t even notice the millisecond glitch in my image. “Casualties?”

“One.”

“Dead?”

“No, but it will need the new paint job.” Brodeur grinned at me.

I raised an eyebrow, and he continued, “A small group of raptors attacked a backhoe. The equipment will need the paint touched up. We killed most of the animals, and the rest ran off. One of the carcasses is being sent to Dr. Sheehy for necropsy.”

“So what can I do?”

The security chief shook his head. “About the attack, nothing. It’s done, and we’ve taken care of the attackers. I am hoping you can set up surveillance of some kind.”

A reasonable request. I nodded in thought. “Mr. Brodeur, I have some drones I can put on guard duty now, although they aren’t really optimized for that. Bill, over in Epsilon Eridani, has been refining surveillance and exploration drones for a couple of decades now. I’ll get some plans from him and start printing up something suitable. It’ll take a week or two before they’re ready. Can you hold out?”

“I will talk to the construction chief and see if we can cut back on some of the tasks until you’re done. We would be spread too thin, right now.”

“Do that, Chief. I’ll keep you updated.”

I closed the connection, and sent an email to Bill, requesting information on his observation drones. He’d designed them more for use by Bobs exploring new systems, but they’d do fine for my purposes as well.

* * *

Security personnel were still swarming the area when my drones arrived at the fence construction site. Blood covered the ground, fortunately all raptor. A very sad-looking backhoe sat off to one side, long scrapes and scratches marring the bright yellow paint job. I wondered idly if the backhoe’s AMI controller would need therapy.

Personnel were hauling several carcasses into the back of transport trucks. The raptors resembled movie velociraptors closely enough to give nightmares to anyone who’d seen Jurassic Park. But instead of the peg-like teeth of the canonical carnosaur, their teeth resembled those of sharks—triangular, serrated, and razor sharp. So far, the use of military-grade automatic weapons on them hadn’t blunted their enthusiasm for the newly arrived food group. ?å?????

I found Chief Brodeur overseeing the cleanup and floated over to him.

He turned as the drone approached and grinned. “And to think I turned down the desk job.”

I chuckled politely in response. “Welcome to the frontier. Did you get all of them?”

“No.” He shook his head. “We let one or two get away to communicate fear of humans to their friends.”

“And how’s that working out, so far?”

Chief Brodeur laughed and shook his head. “I have a meeting with the colonel this afternoon. Perhaps you could attend.”

“He’s already invited me, Mr. Brodeur. I’ll see you there.”

Chief Brodeur nodded to the drone, then turned back to help his staff with cleanup. I took the opportunity to inspect the progress on construction.

A fence stretched about a third of the way around the planned town site. Five meters tall, it was built from a combination of native wood and metal. The Vulcan trees were close enough to their Terran equivalents that the setup crews were able to adapt them with little effort. The trees were harvested from the area immediately around the fence, forming a clear-cut for additional security. I had my doubts about whether the fence was tall enough to keep the brontos at bay, but no one had asked me. Not that the brontos would eat people or anything. They were more of an “accidentally step on you” kind of danger.

To the west, Vulcan’s sister planet Romulus hung in the sky, clouds and seas clearly visible. When Exodus-3 arrived, the passengers, from the FAITH and Spitz enclaves, would be settling there. I expected life to get very interesting once the FAITH colony got started. I doubted that nineteen years of stasis would improve Minister Cranston’s disposition. The FAITH leader wasn’t what I’d call a people-person to begin with, and his relationship with the Bobs had developed into kind of a hate-hate thing.

I sent another drone up a few hundred meters and set it to circle the area, watching for any movement of native life. Nothing lurked nearby, probably due to the noise of the automatic weapons.

Things appeared to have calmed down, and everyone was back to work. I backed out of the drone and back into my VR. Sighing, I rubbed my forehead. Sometimes I missed sleeping for a third of each day. It had been a nice break from reality.

“Guppy, I have some printer schedule changes.”

Guppy popped in and waited silently for me to continue. Looking at him, I wondered if I should change the Admiral Ackbar image. But nothing else came to mind, and anyway it had become a kind of tradition with the Bobs.

“We need more observation drones.”

[All printer groups are currently engaged in producing parts for the orbiting farms. Do you want to bump this activity?]

“Hmm, not really. Okay, put half the printers on drones, and produce four full squads. Then back to building the farm donuts.”

[Aye]

Guppy went into command fugue while he reprogrammed the 3D printers. I turned back to the video windows from my active drones. I would build more drones as requested, but I had a bad feeling that we’d go through a few colonists before we got the fence completed.

* * *

“Good afternoon, Colonel.” The video window showed Colonel Butterworth, as usual looking impeccable and wrinkle-free. I wondered how he did it.

“Morning, Howard.” He nodded toward my image on his desk phone. “Good to see you. I heard about today’s attack.”

I took a moment to be surprised. I didn’t remember Colonel Butterworth ever greeting Riker with that level of friendliness back on Earth. I wasn’t sure if I should be offended for Riker or pleased for me.

The leader of the USE enclave had been at odds with Riker since day one. I had all Riker’s memories of those days of course, right up to the moment that Riker had cloned me. It would be an understatement to describe Butterworth as “pushy,” although at least he was always professional.

With a mental shrug, I decided not to worry about it. Different time, different place, and let’s face it, I wasn’t Riker.

“Yeah, but we won’t be so lucky next time,” I replied. “The raptors are smart. They’ll figure out that backhoes aren’t edible. If they’ve got good color vision—a high likelihood—they’ll probably associate bright yellow with inedible things with hard shells. Then they’ll start concentrating on the soft and squishy two-legged things.”

Butterworth snorted. “I saw your immediate strategy with the drones. I’m just reading your plan for observation and surveillance systems. Looks comprehensive. I have a few small suggestions, which we can go over when convenient.”

I nodded without comment. The colonel’s suggestions would be good ones, and I’d very likely implement them.

“So, where’s Mr. Brodeur? Wasn’t he supposed to be here?”

“He was.” The colonel shrugged. “Something came up. I’ll debrief him separately, and call you if anything requires more discussion.”

I nodded, then glanced over the colonel’s shoulder, where the townsite plan was posted on the far wall. I motioned at it with my chin. “Kind of old-school, isn’t it? A paper poster tacked up on a wall?”

“Hardcopy still has its place, Howard. It’s much bigger than an image on a tablet, and I can make notes on it with a color marker. Of course, I also take a picture, periodically.” The colonel gave me his trademark dry smile. “In other news, we are ready to decant the farming specialists from stasis. Mr. Brodeur tells me that they will have the farm area enclosed within a week.”

“Good. Bert and Ernie are getting antsy about unloading everyone soon.” Butterworth winced as I mentioned the two colony-ship Bobs. I wasn’t sure which was more amusing—that he disapproved so much over our naming choices, or that he recognized the reference.

“Another month or so, Howard, then we can make that decision with confidence.” The colonel reached forward out of frame. “And maybe by the time Exodus-1 and Exodus-2 get back to Earth for another load, someone will have found another habitable system and they’ll stop shipping people our way.” Without waiting for a response, he ended the call.