“We've made great strides in restoring the Pav homeworld” I said, trying to bring things back to an even keel. “About a third of the planet is actively growing things once again. Are you sure you don't want…”
Azmah shook his head. “In our own time. We will visit our ancestral home. I don't doubt the skills of the Bobs, but this is the homeworld of every living Pav. Old Pav is a monument to what no longer is.”
“I understand.” I nodded and stood up. “It will be kept aside for you for whenever you decide.” I turned to my escort. “Well boys, shall we?” The squad leader showed me his teeth again and stepped aside to make room for my departure. I turned back to Azmah for a moment and we exchanged Pav head-bobs. I found myself missing Hazjiar and her version of the Vulcan salute.
Ephemerals…
It was so hard not to think it.
There was a clunk as my cargo drone docked with the comms station. In keeping with the increased use of Mannys for local physical presence, stations were now being constructed with a living area of sorts and docking facilities. I stepped out of the drones hold and walked over to the Manny pod. For humanoid androids the pods had pretty much replaced the older and bulkier storage racks. As the pod cover closed over me, the umbilicals and feeder tubes attached to the Manny. I powered down and transferred my POV to my personal VR.
My latest VR environment, a ski chalet, was already boring me. It seemed I couldn't stay interested for long in any one theme, and I couldn't get up the energy to work on something grand. I sighed and reset the VR to the default library theme.
On a whim, I sent a text to Ferb. He replied immediately, and I popped over to the Pav Reclamation Project Administration Center. The Center was hosted by Bill's Moot VR system and had been the nexus for our efforts to rebuild the Pav homeworld for almost 100 years now. I examined the empty room, a sense of nostalgia filling me. We’d spent so many years working on the problem of rebooting the Pav ecology from nothing more than some plant and animal samples taken in a huge rush, as the Others’ armada bored down on the planet. It was ironic: now that we were finally making some significant progress the Pavs simply didn't seem to care.
Ferb popped in as I stood ruminating. “Hey bud,” he said. “Long time.”
“Yeah. I uhh…” I waved a hand at the room. “Ghosts, it feels like we just abandoned the Pav.”
“Aw, don't get melodramatic, Jacques. It's all pretty much automated these days. Takes maybe a couple of hours a month to make sure everything's on track.”
“Uh-huh. And that's why, right? Where’s Phineas these days, Ferb?”
He glared at me. “Why’d you have to bring that up?”
“Because it's the real reason why this place is deserted. Heard from Phineas?”
“Nothing live.” Ferb looked down. “He isn't bothering to build interstellar relays, and he’s way the hell out of SCUT range now. I get a heavily Dopplered radio transmission every month or so though. 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 he took a good look at him. “What are 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 kinda 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 kinda 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 1000 lightyears 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.
2. Working the Options
Bob
January 2296
Above Eden
Space is… big.
I know, that's a “duh” statement, and Douglas Adams already made it anyway. But when you're looking for a single spaceship over literally interstellar distances, space
