We Are Legion (We Are Bob)

Book 4: Chapter 1: Frenemies

Book 4: Chapter 1: Frenemies

Jacques

November 2331

New Pav

The planet hung below, all blues and greens and twinkling lights of nascent cities. New Pav, we called it. The Pav’s name for their new home planet was slightly more poetic, but would still sound like a bunch of spitting and hissing to a human ear.

The population had boomed in the seventy years or so since they’d been resettled here, and they now boasted cities on several continents. It looked like the species would survive.

Whether they’d still be talking to us or not was another matter.

I received a signal from the cargo drone containing my manny, informing me that it had landed. With a mental sigh, I prepared to leave VR for what would probably be an uncomfortable meeting with the Pav representative.

I connected to the manny—a remotely operated android—over the SCUT channel and transferred my personal POV into it. As internal systems powered up, I took a mil to glance around the now-familiar cargo hold, then extracted myself from the support rack. The cargo doors opened automatically to reveal my usual Pav military escort, rifles at the ready, probably with safeties off. A gaggle of six-foot-tall meerkats, without the cute. I hadn’t visited in a couple of decades, mostly because the last time had been what you might call tense.

Just to see how they’d react, I smiled, careful not to show my teeth, and gave them the Vulcan salute. The squad leader showed me his teeth—not a gesture of friendship from a Pav—and returned the salute with three fewer fingers.

Apparently, he had studied human culture.

I walked up to the group and gave them a proper Pav smile-equivalent. “Hey, guys, what’s shaking?”

I needn’t have bothered. The squad leader responded with a low snarl and motioned with his weapon toward the nearby tent. They’d set up a tent. It would seem I didn’t even rate an indoor meeting. Maybe it was actually a good sign ... nope, couldn’t make that work.

I entered the enclosure and eyed the Pav sitting at the desk. He was the second planetary administrator since Hazjiar, and he didn’t look any friendlier than his immediate predecessor. I missed Hazjiar. She at least had understood the realities of the situation the Pav found themselves in. Somehow, since her passing, the part about the Others having rendered the original Pav home world unlivable had been, um, de-emphasized. The prevailing attitude now seemed to be that we’d done it and lied about it. For no reason that anyone could come up with.

“My name is Da Azzma Hizz,” he said, gesturing to a chair. “I represent all Pav. Do you represent the humans?”

“I am Jacques Johansson. I represent the humans, for purposes of this transaction.” It was a Pav formality, of sorts. Everyone identified themselves and their purpose. And it lowered the tension a bit, as we settled into the routine.

Azzma pushed some papers forward. “We have available the agreed-to tonnages of elements according to the schedule. This represents payment in full for the two human-owned autofactories in our system. Do you concur?”

I glanced over the papers. Everything seemed to be in order. We’d offered to just give the autofactories to the Pav, but they’d refused. I couldn’t be sure if it was an aversion to what could be seen as charity, or if they didn’t want to be in our debt, even morally. I suspected the latter. “I concur. The Bellerophon will be here within the year. They will collect the ingots and deliver the autofactories to you from orbit.”

We stared at each other across the desk. There would be no pleasantries exchanged today. Then Azzma finally spoke. “I will admit this agreement is inconsistent with the prevailing conspiracy theory about the Bobs. It would have made more sense for you to keep us planet-bound and ignorant.” ɽaꞐȫ????Еs

“Hopefully this will help to ease the tension between our peoples,” I replied.

“A little, I think.” Azzma gave me a tight-lipped smile-equivalent. “I have read the diaries of Hazjiar, Jock. She did not feel that you were the enemy. But it is a minority viewpoint these days.”

“Heading for the Large Magellanic Cloud. He’ll be a while.”

“What’s your point, Jacques?”

“You, me, Phineas, Claude, we’re all haunted by what happened. Ghosts. Billions of Pav—”

“We did everything we could!”

I sighed. “I know, I know. But there’s still an emotional toll. Especially since the Pav haven’t exactly embraced us for our efforts. We’ve all, every one of us who were involved, gone on to other things as far removed from this as possible. Phineas, well ...” I snorted. “He’s taken far a bit too far, maybe.”

Ferb nodded, the slightest trace of a smile showing for only an instant.

I cocked my head as I took a good look at him. “What’re you doing with yourself these days?”

“LARPing. Well, designing campaigns more than participating.” Now Ferb finally did smile. “The Gamers—you know, Gandalf and his group—do live-action D&D campaigns in virt. But they kind of have a problem where they all want to play and no one wants to DM, so they’re happy enough for the help. And I, uh ...”

“What?”

“I have to admit I get a little uncomfortable around them, sometimes. Not that they’re dangerous; it’s just they’re like strangers, but strangers who all look like me, you know? Some of them are out-and-out jerks.”

“Yeah. Replicative drift. It’s a thing, as Bill says. So why do you work with them?”

He shrugged. “Something to do. Keeps me busy.”

“You can’t find anything better to do with your time?”

“Thanks for that, mom.” Ferb hesitated. “Actually, I’m kind of working on something. Not quite ready, yet. Don’t noise it around, okay?”

He had my interest now. “Okay.”

“I’m building a huge cargo vessel for myself, and I’m filling it with SCUT relays, stripped down to the essentials to keep their size down. When I’m ready, I’m going to launch straight up toward galactic north. I’ll drop off relays as I go. I want to get at least a thousand light-years above the galactic plane. Then I’ll be able to see what’s on the other side of the galaxy.”

“You know you could just put an AMI in the vessel, give it some marching orders, and stay home.”

“Maybe. Not the same, though. Or maybe you’re right about Phineas. And all of us. Maybe we are trying to run away.” Ferb gave me a look that I would have to describe as pleading, as if he was asking for forgiveness or something. “Gotta go, Jacques. We’ll talk again, sometime.”

For some reason, I doubted that would happen. And just like that, I was alone again in the PRP center. Alone with my ghosts.