Aron walked into his suite in the Cube and sat next to Rina on the couch in his lounge. He sighed and fell over on his side, resting his head on her lap.
She stroked his hair and asked, “Long day?”
“Five million,” he replied.
“Five... million?”
“Five million people are about to leave the solar system. It was... a lot. Never had a speech take so much out of me,” Aron sighed again.
“Why’d you have to do it personally? Couldn’t you just have someone fake being you to deliver the speech?”
“Couldn’t do that.”
“Haven’t you done it before?” Rina tilted her head, losing herself in thought as she petted her fiancee.
“I owe it to them to do it myself. They’re the first manned exploration mission humanity’s ever sent past the Oort Cloud and they’re risking their lives for us... no, for me. So the absolute least I can do is personally send them off.”
“Well, I guess... but just keep in mind that you can just like, make an AI or something that’ll write and deliver speeches on your behalf,” Rina giggled. “We have the technology. We can make him better... faster... stronger.”
Aron rolled over and looked up, trying to see Rina’s face but having his vision blocked by two obstacles. “I’m worth more than that, you know,” he groaned.
“Yes, yes. You’re worth the most.”
“Definitely worth more than a mere six million dollars, that’s for sure,” Aron grumbled, then turned his head and buried his face against Rina’s belly.
“Besides,” he continued, his voice slightly muffled, “I can’t do that anyway.”
“You can’t make a speechwriting AI?”
“Nope. You see, in order to do that, I’d have to do it based on my brain data.”
“Is that all? I mean, don’t you already have your brain data constantly being updated?”
“No. I don’t, you don’t, our families don’t... all those closest to me are exempt from brain data monitoring and uploading. It’s too... I dunno. Not invasive invasive, but regular invasive.”
“I see, I guess,” Rina said, moving her petting hand to the back of Aron’s neck and lightly massaging it.
“Besides, even if I could, I still wouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because then I’d get complacent, and that’s one hell of a slippery slope.”
“But you’d have more time for me and our family, no?” she asked.
“Rina, darling, beauty, wonderful love of my life... we have the simulation. And a very, very long life to begin with—we’ll be sick of each other soon enough.” He softly moaned as she switched over to lightly teasing him with her fingernails.
“I understand. Now, are we going to do it or what?”
“I must be the most henpecked emperor in history,” Aron laughed as he performed a feat of strength and flexibility that practically violated the laws of physics, ending up atop her on the couch.
Their lips met in a passionate kiss, and Nova politely stopped paying attention to the happenings in the room, simply flagging Aron as unavailable except for emergencies of red or higher classification on the empire’s threat index.
The lights in the room dimmed as the rustle of clothing falling to the floor mixed with the sound of soft panting and moans.
......
The moment the emperor vanished, the members of the five exploration fleets, and their gigantic cityship escorts, logged out of the simulation as well, each of them climbing out of their pods.
As inspiring as Aron’s speech was, they had work to do.
Hours passed as the crew members performed their final checks. They weren’t dragging their heels, but rather doing a detailed and thorough inspection on their newly printed vessels. Some departments even called for the removal of the bulkheads on their decks to physically check the systems hidden behind them. They were headed out of the solar system, after all, so no checks would be too invasive, too thorough, or too unnecessary.
Once everything returned green, the fleets brought their reactors up from standby power to full and humanity had officially taken their first step into a much wider universe.
Over ten thousand ships were heading out, though the number seemed much lower as most of the escort ships were still contained in their designated cityships. They were organized into five task forces, each named after the destination they would be heading to.
Task Force Proxima was headed to Proxima Centauri, a solar system a little over four light years away that astronomers felt had a high chance of supporting organic life. Thousands, if not tens of thousands, of science fiction novels had mentioned the system, so of course humanity would choose it for one of the destinations in their inaugural exploration mission to the stars.
The others were headed to Teegarden’s Star, about twelve light years away; Wolf 1061, which was about fourteen light years away; the TRAPPIST-1 system, at about thirty-nine light years from Earth; and LHS 1140, which was forty light years away.
Researchers from Earth had long believed those five were among the systems most likely to support organic life, and the AI that oversaw the Terran Space Fleet and Terran Exploration Fleet, Styx, had chosen them for the first expedition. Not only did they have atmospheres, but they were likely to have liquid water on the surface and their distribution in the galaxy provided a decent sample in terms of distance and direction from Earth. One was nearby, two were in a more middling distance, and two were a long distance from the cradle of humanity.
But more importantly, none of them were even remotely close to the visitors’ flight path on their approach to the solar system. Thus, the exploration fleets would have no chance of forcing an early meeting with the extraterrestrials who were already on their way to Earth.
The fleets themselves were extremely flexible. Each exploration cruiser carried a reinforced company of ARES troopers, a squad of Reapers, a ship’s guard of Aegis specialists, and a nyxian of every specialization. And each exploration fleet was made up of a hundred exploration cruisers.
And escorting each exploration fleet was a vast cityship, each of which acted as the mothership for close to two thousand ships of the Terran Space Fleet, along with a legion of ARES, enough fertilized zygotes to plant a colony on a habitable planet with sufficient genetic diversity to ensure their long-
term viability, and a full copy of the non-classified parts of the Akashic Record.
They also housed enormous atomic printers capable of virtually terraforming entire planets, given enough time, which was a first for Aron. He was so overprotective of the atomic printing technology that he had been determined not to let the technology anywhere outside the solar system, but he’d had his mind changed on the subject by Nova.
......
A few days before the exploration fleet escorts left Mars.
[Sir, why not send printers with the explorers?] Nova asked.
“I don’t want the tech stolen,” Aron replied. “And by sending them with the fleets, we risk exposing them. It’s better if they make do with constructor swarms and GEMbots.”
[Isn’t that inefficient? For Operation Diaspora, the speed of deployment matters just as much as anything else.]
“The risk is still there, though.”
[Consider that our atomic printing technology is still tier one, and we’ve been working with it for years. It’s been studied in Lab City for centuries, even. So to anyone on our tech level, it’s basically black box tech, and anyone more advanced has likely already discovered and is using it. Given that that’s the case, why not put efficiency over security with the explorers, at least?]
“Because...” Aron sighed. Not even he could ignore the validity of Nova’s point. “You have a point, Nova. The exploration fleet is leaving the solar system, after all, so even if the tech is exposed, we have... options.” His expression hardened and grew colder than a block of permafrost.
If the explorers or their escorts discovered anything about the printers, well... space exploration was incredibly risky, after all, and at the heart of things, the cold calculus of ruling meant that the few could be discarded for the benefit of the many. And letting people get a hint of the atomic printers would economically devastate the newly formed Terran Empire at a time it could least afford it.
Thus, sacrifices could be made, though he hoped it would never come to that.
“Load the cityships with atomic printers in the black decks,” he ordered.
[Yes, sir,] Nova said, then her virtual image flickered. [Done, sir. We’re prepared for launch.]
