“This Federation of Planets Council session will co to order.” I looked around at the three other Bobs in their video windows. After considerable negotiation with Colonel Butterworth, we’d settled on two new Bobs for now. I admit I was still a little miffed that the colonel thought of us as a resource sink instead of an asset.
“I think you may be just a little too invested in this Star Trek thing,” Charles said with a smirk.
I waved away the comnt. “We’ve always been a Star Trek fan. Deal with it.” I waited a mont for more flak, then continued, “The scavenging autofactories are in full operation, now. We’re beginning to get a steady stream of materials into the Lagrange points, and I hope to have the actual shipyard autofactory up and running within two years. anwhile, Hor and Charles will continue to scour the system for mineral deposits, and Arthur and I will scan Earth for evidence of any other surviving groups. Questions?”
“But even if we find groups, there isn’t much we can do for them, is there?” Charles was voicing a concern that we all shared. Without transport, we couldn’t supply food or dicine to any group we might locate. The Heaven vessels were most definitely not designed to land, or even to enter atmosphere. And even if we had transport, Colonel Butterworth had made it very clear that he wouldn’t be accepting new refugees, or providing food or dicine for them. We were on our own for any aid we might be able to give.
My greatest fear right now was that I might find a group of people, then have to stand by helplessly and watch them die.
***
After so discussion, Arthur and I decided to do polar orbits—scanning in orange slices. By staggering our passes, we would be able to cover the entire planet using the SUDDAR from orbit. Drones would follow up anything interesting with low-altitude visual inspections. The orbital survey wouldn’t be able to detect people directly, of course. But any new construction, working power plants, or farming operations would flag a location for the drones to check out.
It took about two weeks to finish the survey. At the end of it, we had a map of the Earth with almost forty locations marked—half a dozen cities, and a lot of smaller enclaves.
Arthur’s image in the video link looked tired. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead slowly. “Fifteen million people. From twelve billion down to fifteen million. As a species, we’re morons. Maybe we should just let them die and start over.”
“Wow. You really are a morose bugger, aren’t you?”
Arthur seed to have inherited a greater-than-average dollop of gloominess, and it was getting old. I’d been biting back my retorts, but was running out of self-control. I actually found myself thinking of swapping his assignnt with Hor.
“The big problem,” I continued with a gesture toward the globe, “is that we can’t possibly move that many people, even if the other Bobs find enough habitable planets. The colony ships designed by the USE can handle ten thousand people at a ti, stacked like cordwood in stasis pods. That’s fifteen hundred ships, or fifteen hundred trips. Either way, not going to happen.”
Arthur nodded. “So we get to pick who is most deserving…”
“Chrissake, Eeyore, get a grip. We pick based on need. Based on which groups need rescuing the most. What else can we do?”
“The USE group doesn’t fit that requirent. Needs-wise, they’re in an above-average position.”
“Yeah, I know.” I sighed. “But we did agree to help them. And they did supply the plans, and a lot of intel. I think we’re obligated, regardless. What we can do, is move so of the more needy groups to the USE’s installation after we’ve shipped them out. That should help.”
“Sure, we’ll stuff them in the back with the busters. No prob.”
I turned to face Arthur, ready to snap at him, and realized he had a point. I bit back what I’d been about to say and thought for a mont. “We’re going to need transport vessels. We’d eventually need them anyway, but this makes them a priority. Better adjust the manufacturing schedule. The colonel will have a fit.”
***
The colonel was having a fit. I’d never seen Butterworth actually angry before. He did angry with a smoldering understatent that was very effective.
“Are you sure you’ve done project planning before, Riker? Because I’m seeing slippage almost every day, it seems. One would almost think you’re making this up as you go along.”
“Well, I kind of am doing exactly that, colonel. Project planning isn’t about avoiding changes, it’s about controlling them. No project plan ever survives contact with the enemy.”
A ghost of a smile flashed across the colonel’s face before he recovered control. “Hmm, I think you may be misrembering that quote, Riker. In any case, I’m fine with moving any refugees into our compound once we’ve departed. I hope that will give you so motivation to get us out sooner.”
“As if I needed more motivation. Riker out.” I shut down the channel, sat back, and stared into space. I liked the colonel. Really. But dealing with him often felt a lot like dealing with, um, . He was stubborn, opinionated, and able to support his stance with good, solid argunts. Which just made my job more difficult.
I looked over the map again. Not because I expected to glean any new information, more as a kind of nervous tic that I seed to have developed. We had completed a secondary survey, looking for any small groups that we might have missed on the first sweep. But after thirty years of war and planetary bombardnt, small groups would have either consolidated or died.
The refugee groups were scattered around the planet, and represented pretty much every nation in existence when the war started. That wasn’t going to make things any easier. If anything, xenophobia would be even stronger. I probably wouldn’t be able to just dump everyone on one planet and expect them to get along. Р𝙖ＮȎ𝐛ĚＳ
I’d given Arthur the task of contacting each enclave. So far, it was proving more difficult than expected.
Ti for a status check. I called Arthur. His image appeared imdiately.
“How are things going, Arthur?”
He popped up a status window for . Arthur might be a bit of a downer, but he had exceptional discipline.
“I’ve already completed about half of the communicators that we need, and delivered twenty-five percent of them. Or tried to. Several of our drones have been shot down on approach, and a half dozen communicators were simply smashed as soon as the drone left. Not everyone wants to talk to us, as it turns out.”
“I guess I can see it. People who have lived through the last thirty years are going to be a bit on the distrustful side.” I shook my head sadly. I’d already decided that I wasn’t going to kidnap people, or march them into a cargo bay at gunpoint. Anyone who wanted to opt out could stay on Earth. Colonel Butterworth agreed wholeheartedly, although I had a feeling that had more to do with reducing what he saw as ‘distractions’.
“So have you gotten past introductions with anyone?”
“Not yet, no.” Arthur shrugged. “Standard explanation, delivered by recorded video. Very few original questions in response. A lot of verbal abuse. Pretty routine.”
He popped up another window. “Hey, by the way, got a report from Hor. Well, we were talking, and he filled in. They’ve identified more than enough resources system-wide to build three ships. Almost enough for a fourth. Although so of the stuff is pretty far out in the outer system.”
I nodded. I’d received a report from Hor and had skimd it. I’d actually been hoping to be able to build at least a half-dozen ships, but I didn’t want to give Arthur another reason to get all glum on . Not that he needed much in the way of reasons.
But it was progress.
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