All These Worlds (Bobiverse, #3)

by Dennis E. Taylor

One of the many universals that I’d discovered while studying the Deltans was that politicians and leaders always reserved the best for themselves.

“If it comes to that,” Kal responded, “you’re a wild card, and something the Council can’t control or interdict. At minimum, you’ll be a distraction. At best, you’ll be able to cause them significant stress.” “Well, I always wanted to be a pain in the ass,” I replied.

If there was a hell, it was in sales.

“Marcus, you’re a loner. You always have been, the way you describe it. And you’ve never sought power. But some people need power, and they need to have power over someone. Preferably lots of someones. Taking away the Council’s subjects—which is what you’d be doing—is a declaration of war.”

The Orion-Cygnus arm of the Milky Way stretched across the sky, annotated by overlays showing distances, readings, and the location of local tourist attractions. Sixty trillion miles to next gas station. I snorted at the thought.

Life was hell, but we tried to bear up under the burden.

The enemy roamers came straight in, no finesse, no feints. And why shouldn’t they? Straight numerical advantage was a strategy all its own.

Less than a minute later, we found to our surprise that we’d won the fight. Two of our roamers still survived, one only barely. But on a last man standing basis, it was enough.

“Can I have that in writing?” “Sure, no problem. Bend over, and I’ll get my felt pen.”

864 cargo bays. That number mean anything to you?” There was a moment of silence before Neil replied, “It’s 600 base 12. And, come to think of it, the Others image that Bill retrieved had six feeding fingers on each side of its maw.” I grinned. “Coincidence? I think not.” “Nope. There’s another universal, I think. Your number base will depend on your number of digits. The Pav were base 10.”

Maybe we’ll have a nuke in place, just in case we need to terminate with prejudice.”

“Two-pronged strategy. Attempt to gather as many printers as he can, while denying them to us. Geometric progression means a small advantage up front can turn into an insurmountable lead, eventually.”

There’s no real reason for your Virtual Reality self to be tense. I knew that. It didn’t help. I found myself gritting my teeth so hard that my jaw began to ache.

“Just when we think we’ve got things figured out, the universe throws another curve.” I grinned at him. “Well, that’s life.”

I took a moment to mourn the people I’d just killed. Very probably they were just following orders. But those orders had meant knocking a city containing several hundred civilians out of the sky. There was a point where following orders didn’t cut it.

Neil and I picked a spot close to the podium. Normally, we’d be at the back, as befitted pondscum, but we were now Project Leaders. Of course, we were also project workers, project gophers, and project janitorial staff, but who’s counting?

Some people just seemed to want to display their power by defining what others could or couldn’t do.

“So, you’re doing things the hard way, because you’re too lazy to figure out how to do them the easy way?

We seemed to be circling the drain, again.

We’re splitting our resources and efforts by protecting a second beachhead. It’s as simple as that.”

I think it was your mother’s death that really got to me. People die. And I remember each and every one, as clear as the day it happened. Over time, that’s more and more unhappy memories to deal with. I think I’m trying to move toward thinking of my relatives more as a group and less as individuals.”

“Yeah, weird that it takes a threat to our existence to get us to move our asses.”

This was actually Rivendell mark 2. The first iteration lay somewhere far below in the murky depths, probably melted into slag by now. Forgot to carry the two again.

Family. Good, bad, or nasty, you had to deal with them.

“We have to take out as many of them as we can,” Bill was saying, “before they have time to react. They have the size and power advantage in a toe-to-toe. But hit-and-run attacks favor us.”

For a wonder, it worked.

We’ve all seen the movies where everyone relaxes too soon. No thanks.”

Being an immortal, insane computer would be a Very Bad Thing, with capital letters.

I’m a post-human computerized starship, and maybe it’s about time I started acting like it.”

“I don’t understand your species, Jock.” Hazjiar paused, looking at me. “You have all this power, yet you seem reluctant to use it. You are so rich that you don’t even need money, yet you seem to have so little.” I looked up at the ceiling for a moment. She was, perhaps without realizing it, hitting very close to home with some of her comments. “Hazjiar, we—all the Bobs, I mean—don’t have any desire for power over others. Quite the opposite, in fact. We just want to be able to do our own thing. And we may finally be at the point where we can realize that desire.” I gestured to the soldiers. “You have power, in the ways that matter. You’re able to keep yourselves safe here. We’ll make sure nothing gets out of control up there.” I gestured to the sky. “Beyond that, unless you specifically need us for something, we’ll leave you alone. I think, as a group, the Bobs have finally figured out our place in the cosmos. So we’re going to be stepping back.”

There still existed a general feeling amongst the Bobs that being restored wasn’t quite personal immortality, but most agreed that it sure beat the alternative. I decided I’d leave that particular philosophical debate until it became relevant.

“Humanity is well-distributed, now. It’s beginning to look like they’ll probably survive their own stupidity, after all.”