As we started our march back to Camelot, I couldn’t help noticing that my crew were really, really terrible actors. Overly loud comments, uttered with exaggerated inflection, would have made a stage director up and quit on the spot.
I needn’t have worried, though. Fred and his gang probably weren’t listening anyway. They stepped out, front and rear, just like last time.
Fred looked at me, standing in lead spot, and smiled his nasty smile. “Well, Robert. I see you’ve caught my lunch for me. And you don’t have the big guy to protect you today. Why don’t you go ahead and put up a fight, this time? I’d like that.”
I cocked my head to the side. “Well, first, Fred, Donald didn’t need to protect me last time. You’re just not very good. And if it’s a fight you’re looking for, today’s your lucky day.”
And with that, eighteen Camelot hunters, including Donald, stepped out of the bush behind Fred’s gang. The Caerleon group went into a defensive crouch. Several of them tried to inch away and had to be poked with spear tips. In short order, we had them herded into a small group.
Fred sneered at me. “You think this is going to protect you? You won’t always have your friends around, kuzzi.”
“Neither will you, Fred.”
Fred jerked, taken aback. “What?”
“Just what I said. I can wait, and I can watch, and eventually you’ll go take a pee or something without your friends covering your ass.” I leaned in close. “And I’ll cut your throat before you even know I’m there.” I turned to the rest of the group. “This goes for all of you. You go to war with us, you’ll be watching your backs the rest of your lives. I never forget. And I never forgive.”
Fred laughed, a short sharp bark. “Nice talk. Nothing behind it, though.”
“Really?” I smiled at him, and before he could react, I jabbed him in the same place as last time. Down he went.
It wasn’t a fair fight, of course. I operated at computer speeds, and I was inhabiting an android body with electronic reflexes and several times the strength of a live Deltan. But a fair fight wasn’t the point. I wanted them to stop stalking Camelot hunting parties. I just needed to make their mortality clear to them.
I looked around at the Caerleon gang. They appeared a lot less defiant, now.
“Today, we’ll let you off with a warning. And without your spears. Next time, it’s going to hurt a lot more.” I signaled to a couple of the guys, and they began collecting spears. Fred’s gang was thoroughly cowed now, and didn’t put up any resistance.
We sent them off, then turned to head back to Camelot.
Donald walked beside me. “Damn, Robert, that was impressive. But I don’t think Fred is that easily dissuaded.”
“You’re right, Donald. But most of his followers will be. People like Fred need followers. I’m hoping this will pull his teeth.”
Donald nodded, then started up a marching chant, and everyone else joined in.
I wished I was as confident as I sounded.
Launch
Bill
January 2223
Epsilon Eridani
Garfield shook his head in awe. “It’s like those cartoon muscle cars when we were a kid—the ones that were all engine.”
The images in the video windows were indeed impressive. Epsilon Eridani 1, now in a completely new orbit around its sun, was surrounded by eight hundred mover plates. Trailing it by a million kilometers or so was one of the larger ex-moons of Epsilon Eridani 3, with a similar array of plates.
It had taken years to not only build all the equipment, but also to figure out how to control the assemblies. Forty supervisor AMIs were dedicated to maintaining and balancing the fields for each planet, in addition to the AMI in each plate.
And overseeing each planet would be my latest clones. They’d named themselves Daedalus and Icarus, which I privately thought was a little pretentious. But hey, it’s a free galaxy.
Garfield looked at me, his face flushed with excitement. “Short-range test complete. There’s a lot of room for error, but at minimum this setup is good for hundreds of Gs.”
I smiled and leaned back in my chair. “I guess we’re about ready, then.” A quick ping to Dae and Ick, and they popped into my VR.
“Okay, guys. Everything checks out. You’re clear that this is a Hail Mary, right?”
The two nodded. Daedalus replied, “Sure, but it’s worth trying. Worst case, we fail, and the Bobs are no worse off.”
“It’s a good opportunity to get some quiet time for some astrophysics work, too,” Icarus added with a smile.
I chuckled in reply. Icky had turned out very similar to me in temperament. Content to leave the exploration and fighting to others, he just wanted to work on his research.
I found myself a little ambivalent about Icarus and Daedalus. Cloning ourselves was always purposeful, of course. But I’d cloned these two for what could turn out to be a suicide mission. It felt unclean, somehow.
They knew exactly what I’d been thinking when I’d made the decision to go ahead. The pair gazed back at me with alert interest, no trace of blame or rancor on their faces. I decided I’d accept their judgment.
I hesitated, looking around the room. This was one of those moments that changed your life forever. Everything was ready to go. Time to fish or cut bait. “Okay, guys. The docking bays are ready for your ships. Connect up, hit the road, and Godspeed.”
Date
Howard
November 2217
Omicron2 Eridani
We walked out of the movie theater, arm in arm. Bridget looked as gorgeous as always. She turned and whispered in my ear, and as usual, my brain turned to mush.
“You look very dignified, Howard. But you really didn’t have to do that.”
I shrugged. Modifying the android’s appearance was a trivial operation. Avoiding a situation that might make Bridget uncomfortable was top priority. My apparent age now matched hers perfectly.
Changing the subject, I said, “That wasn’t bad. There might be a future in this movie theater fad.”
“Yes, civilization has finally reached Vulcan. Next up—discos.”
“No, please, no.”
There wasn’t exactly a booming movie industry, of course. Vulcan was very much a frontier planet, and the economy was still bootstrapping through the basic requirements. We’d be another couple of decades before leisure activities became a major market segment.
But Hollywood, and its various satellite locations and spiritual brethren, had produced thousands of movies of varying quality and popularity. And generally speaking, the holders of the copyrights were many light-years away, and almost certainly quite dead as well. Someone in Landing eventually had the bright idea to open a local theater and play themed double-bills. It was brilliant, as far as I was concerned. And the general population, who had spent most of their previous lives in isolated, claustrophobic enclaves, were taking to the new medium with enthusiasm.
Today’s fare, a couple of zombie movies, had been sold out. The audience was loud, opinionated, and mostly sneeringly amused. But no one left early.
I leaned close. “I feel a hankering for brains. Or sushi.”