“It has nothing to do with Dr. Sheehy at all?”
I kept my face deadpan. “Not particularly.” It would seem there was no privacy at all in Bob-town. Anyway, we were just friends. “We’re just friends.”
Will looked at me, unmoving for a few more milliseconds, then nodded his head and looked away. “Okay, Howard, I’ll bring it up with the appropriate people at this end. I take it you’ve talked to Cranston already, about any info that FAITH might still have on the process?”
“Mm, yeah. He, of course, wanted a crapton of concessions in return,
before I’d even find out if he had anything worthwhile.”
“Well, hell.” Will grinned at me. “Why didn’t you say so? Doing an end-run around Cranston is all the motivation I need.” He finished his coffee, gave me a nod, and vanished.
I figured that would work. Just needed to not sell it too hard, or he would have gotten suspicious.
I pulled up the medical report that I’d intercepted, labelled B. Sheehy. I examined the scan for the hundredth time, hoping maybe this time it would be different.
* * *
Cranston’s face glowed a most unhealthy shade of red in the video window. I tried not to smile.
“Dammit, your product is showing up in our territory. I’ve told you we’re not interested. I’ve forbade you from selling your devil’s brew here. I want it stopped.”
He was mad. Cursing and everything. Excellent.
“Minister Cranston—Oh, it’s President Cranston, now, isn’t it? Anyway, sir, I am not selling or even offering any of my alcohol-themed products in New Jerusalem. However, your attempt at controlling the supply has likely driven the price up high enough that it’s being brought in from Spitsbergen by unorthodox methods. I have to admit, their consumption does seem rather high…”
“Then put a stop to it!”
“Absolutely, sir. I’ll put a line on the label, ‘Not for resale in New Jerusalem’. That should do it. After all, smugglers and bootleggers are always law-abiding.”
Amazing. I wouldn’t have thought it possible for his face to get redder.
Live and learn. But he wasn’t finished, apparently.
“And I will lodge an official protest at the idea of you using the colony equipment to engage in private enterprise. You are profiteering off of our backs.”
I shook my head in amazement. “First, I made all of those donuts and gave them to the colonies free of charge. Second, I’m not using one of those donuts. I made my own. And third, not that it’s actually relevant, but we’re gradually moving production planetside. Once that’s done, I’ll add the donut
to the colony inventory.”
“Tread carefully, replicant. You might find access to your families restricted.”
That was not an unexpected tactic, but it didn’t make it any easier to take.
I had my response ready. “Mr. President, you signed an agreement before we shipped you here that established certain inalienable rights for your citizens.
You also entered into a personal agreement with Riker concerning specifics of our family. Start reneging on that, and this will escalate quickly.”
We spent several seconds in a stare-off before Cranston broke eye contact.
“Very well. We will pursue the border options, for now. However, this is not over.” He reached out of frame and broke connection.
“Wow.”
I turned to the video window showing Riker’s image. “Wow, indeed, Will.
Should we be setting up an escape plan for the family?”
“As one alternative.” Will stared into space for a few moments. “Another would be to just remove the irritant.”
My eyebrows rose. “The whiskey?”
“No, you twit. Cranston.”
Now that was a plan I could get behind.
46. Klown Kar Planet
Rudy
February 2190
Epsilon Indi
I did a test ping to Riker, to check my tau. I’d been doing this regularly for the last couple of days, waiting for it to drop to the point where I could maintain a VR connection. We’d been exchanging emails for a few weeks, but a tradition of sorts had developed where the moment when a travelling Bob could maintain a VR session with a stationary Bob was considered arrival. It was more significant than actual entry into the system.
I received a response, then Riker popped into VR.
“Hey, Rudy. Good to hear from you. Where’s Edwin?”
“Still not slowed down enough. I moved ahead so I could get a look at KKP. I’ll be there in about eight days, and Exodus-6 will be another week.”
Riker nodded. “Call me back when you’ve had a close look at KKP.”
* * *
The planet itself wasn’t particularly memorable. It had oceans, it had land.
The day and night cycles, though, had imposed a certain chaos on the evolution of life. Based on Linus’ notes and what I could see from quick drone flyabouts, the planet had gone through something equivalent to the Cambrian Explosion, then kept every single branch. Both plants and animals came in a huge number of phyla. At first glance, it could appear to a non-scientist as if every individual plant and animal was its own species. Linus had theorized that the weird light cycles created a large number of niches and opportunities for competition.
This included several different versions of photosynthesis, optimized for different parts of the spectrum. Which resulted in what I suspected was the real reason for the name—the planet had more colors than a patchwork quilt.
Even the oceans came in different hues, due to the different breeds of plankton.
Between the sun’s path through the sky over the course of the year, and the extra heat and light supplied by the Jovian primary, days, nights, and even seasons would be hard to differentiate. I chuckled, perusing the notes. Linus had tentatively named the Jovian Big Top. I doubted either name would survive the colony’s first general meeting, honestly. But it was fun while it lasted.
As had become habit with the Bobs, Linus had left some mining drones and an autofactory behind to process raw ore from asteroids into refined metals, and left them in orbit with a beacon attached. Epsilon Indi wasn’t a rich system, but the automation had still managed to accumulate several hundred thousand tons of material. It would be a good start.
I pinged Edwin. I received an invitation and popped into his VR.
“Hi, Rudy.”
“Edwin.” I sat down and accepted a coffee from Jeeves. Edwin’s VR was, in my opinion, one of the better ones. He’d created a living area with huge windows on one wall that looked out on whatever view was really available outside his vessel. That would have been a little boring during the trip, but now it showed Big Top as he approached orbital insertion. Edwin was still several million miles away, but this was a Jovian planet. It already dominated the sky.
“So, what do we have?” he asked.
“This planet is like that Harrison novel,” I answered. “What was it? Oh, yeah, Deathworld. Where everything was deadly.”
“That bad?”
I waved a hand. “Possibly I exaggerate. But the ecosystem is very, very competitive. I know they are making do with a fence on Vulcan, but for here, I’m leaning more towards domes. Not for atmosphere, but to keep out the ickies.”