Fear[ENG]

Foreword

Это работа на английском языке! Перевод доступен тут: https://author.today/work/416280/

I primarily write in Russian, and English is my second language. This book, however, was initially conceived in English, and you're reading the original text. You can find Russian translation and adaptation here: https://author.today/work/416280/. The initial language still left significant impact on the translated version, and the resulting work may be significantly different from my usual stories.

To any aspiring authors out there, I could advise not to start new works in your non-native tongue. The translation and adaptation of the work takes a lot of effort.

Author.

Chapter 1

Their world was a gentle one, by human standards. Great plains spanned the continents, covered by low blue grass and small shrubs. Oceans lied between continents, their water tinted green. Yet the oceans were nearly still. In this world, there were no earthquakes, no thunderstorms, no seasons. The axis of the planet had nearly no tilt, so there was no reason for seasons. The core of the planet was calming down, so there was no reason for quakes or strong tectonic movement. Life appeared late on this world, but that had its own benefits.

They were herbivores, endlessly grazing at the same spot of the endless plane of grass. Grass and small fruits were their food. They spent their life devouring plant life, grew old and died, becoming nutrients of the soil. A peaceful cycle of life. They were also gentle species, just like their world. They would run away in terror from anything they consider danger. Run as far as possible, then observe danger from a distance, then return.

They would continue living this way for millions and billions of years, until devoured by the explosion of their star going supernova, as there was no reason to evolve further on a gentle world. Until the day one of them found a fruit. A fruit tastier than anything before. The creature devoured the fruit, liked it and wished for more. But there was no more fruit nearby. The usual grass did not taste as well as before, so for the first time in many years, the creature had a reason. A reason to look, to search, to think.

Their scholars later named it a "fruit of knowledge" — in a time long after the civilization appeared. It was elusive. The seeds of fruit rode on winds of the planet, covering long distances. While the winds were gentle, and predictable, the path the seeds traveled was not. They were complex seed, with complicated shapes, and their flight path changed suddenly and often. Their scientists argued later, what was the effect of the fruit, that looked like a glowing orange sphere. They argued, how it caused them to change, to improve. They finally solved their questions thousands of years later, long after they established their civilization and named themselves Tarraxi. The fruit induced mutations. Small subtle changes that were not always permanent, were not always beneficial, but had helped their people move from the spot where they stagnated.

In pursuit of the Fruit, their ancestors had to think and explore. They had to learn how to navigate the great plains where everything looked almost identical. They have invented language, they looked at the stars, they shared tales. They tried to cultivate the fruit, but it resisted their efforts. They crossed the oceans, seeking it, though it was easy to do so, in forever calm greenish waters.

They found the fruit on a small island far from the shores, and along with the fruit they found the planet's only predator. A small creature hiding in the shadows. A piece of living darkness, a lump of fur covered with claws and teeth. The predator lived on this island for a very long time, hunting small critters. It had no language, it did not watch the stars, but it was very smart, in its own way. When the ships of early Tarraxi landed on the shore of the island, it hid among the cargo. It had waited for them to return home, and disappeared in grasslands. The predator did not need a mate to reproduce, and the grass plains were bigger than its island. And the small creature liked the taste of Tarraxi very much.

The Tarraxi named it "Death".

A shadow, full of teeth and claws, waiting in the bushes. Waiting for a moment to sink its claws into the neck of a curious youngling. With several more lying in wait nearby. When the purple blood from the first wound dropped, few more would attack. They could kill an adult in seconds, and a young one instantly. Then Death would disappear in shadow. It also learned to dig soil.

They were gentle species, who learned not to fight, but to run. And they did run, when one of them fell, only to watch the victim being devoured, from a distance, unable to do anything.

Death was the second factor that caused Tarraxi to evolve. They did not need homes before, they needed them now. They did not think of clothes before, and now some found that bark could protect them from easy blows. They did not need other animals before, and now they raised them in their villages, in hopes that Death will pick animals instead of them.

Death was smart. It learned to avoid bark armor, it figured out how to burrow into homes and it clearly preferred the taste of Tarraxi to that of their tamed animals. It learned, in time, of the fruit, "Fruit of Knowledge". It figured out, somehow, that Tarraxi wanted it, and now, instead of welcome sight, the Fruit meant that Death is lying nearby in wait. A piece of darkness, claws and teeth, waiting for an opportunity to kill.

Death forced them to adapt. They had to learn to strengthen their homes, they had to come up with barriers. Death adapted in turn, and learned to overcome the obstacles. After all, they were still gentle species, and could only run, and could not fight. Death did not kill them all. It made sure to keep Tarraxi alive. Most of them. It made sure not to touch their young. Most of the time. It is as if it kept Tarraxi as food, the same way they tried to cultivate the Fruit. And the legends of Death grew. They spoke of a smart creature watching from the shadows.

They have lived this way for a long time. Deprived of their Fruit, in fear, with Death always lurking nearby. Until one day, an elder named Traa, one of the elders that avoided death the longest decided that the time had come for his life to end. He left the village, headed towards the plains. Waiting for Death to take him. He knew it waited. Lurked in the shadows, watching him for many days, as Death always does.

He wandered aimlessly in the plain, and in the same way his ancestors found the Fruit, he came across a small tree. Its trunk was scratched by Death. It had to be Death because no other animal in the plains had claws. Sap oozed from the scratches, and in sap he found pieces of black fur and purple blood. He touched the sap and his hand got stuck. That's when he heard the noise in the grass. Death has come for him at last.

Even though he wished his life to end, he was still a Tarraxi and could only run. So he pulled away from the tree with all his might, ripping away a piece of his skin, when Death jumped.

He ran, but did not hear a chase. He could not stop, as he was from a gentle species, but he glanced back. Death howled, being stuck in the tree, unable to detach itself from the sap. He returned to the village, and gave orders, ones that earned him title of Traa the Savior.

Their village had a moat. A pit encircling the village. Their soil was strengthened, so Death would not burrow through. But Death has learned how to climb walls, how to hide on ceilings, and still hunted. Traa ordered to find more trees and cover the walls and bottom of the moat with their sap. The Death attacked at this night, as it always did, ran at the bottom of the moat and stepped in the sap. Then it could not leave.

The predator mournfully howled for many days, and they could not approach it, as they were still, gentle species that only knew how to run and could not fight. The howls weakened and stopped, as Death starved and lost strength. And days later a first Tarraxi tried to approach the stuck predator. It was still terrifying. It had too many claws, teeth, and its eyes were looking forward, all four of them. The Tarraxi could not bring himself to touch Death, and it did not try to kill him. It was dead. That day, Death died for the first time.

They were gentle species that only knew how to run, but they were not stupid. More villages installed moats, more Tarraxi came up with other trap designs. Death continued to die in large numbers. They did not become bolder, they did not fight Death directly even once. But they learned where Death lived, they learned how to build more traps, they learned what makes them afraid, and kept building traps in places nothing could scare them.

And in the end, they prevailed. They made Death extinct. Only tales of it remained.

They continued to live on their planet. They learned how to cultivate the Fruit. They were gentle species, so they knew no war and no conflicts. They studied land, the fruit, the continents, and their museums had few preserved depictions of Death, sometimes greatly embellished.

Tarraxi slowly prospered, driven by consumption of the Fruit. And in time, they reached the stars.

In the vast universe they, to their surprise, were among the first species. They did not find another Death there. But they found many other species like themselves. Herbivores and many other creatures from gentle words. Ones that could not fight, and only run, but made their predators extinct without fighting even once. Creatures just like Tarraxi.

Space meant Peace, Prosperity, Cooperation. By universal agreement, they have created the Galactic Council, where all races could discuss their problems. They assisted each other, helped in times of need. There were still no wars.

The era of peace continued for thousands of years.

Until one day, hundreds of thousands of human years after the extinction of Death, they discovered... Humans.

Chapter 2

The Galactic Council was in session.

The meeting hall of the Council was gigantic. An impossibly large room, that looked as many concentric circles, one within circle another. In the middle of the room, there was a disk of, where the ones addressing the council would stand. Under the high ceiling, holographic displays hovered right above it. They projected an image of the speaker, enlarged it, should the speaking creature be too small. In concentric circles around it, of seats rose one after another. That's where representative were present.

Their seats were embellished with metal and stone, it was said that representatives often used stone and metals from their own worlds, to advertise its beauty and marvels. As a result, many seats so were distinct from each other, each circle resembled a kaleidoscope of styles. Those who couldn't breathe the atmosphere of the council were provided hermetic chambers. Those who could not be present, had holo-projectors in their place. There weren't many species like this, everybody tried to appear in person.

Above all, loomed seats of the Venerable Ones, or Elders. They were the first races that reached the stars, that met and accept each other, formed the council. Tarraxi at the head of the Elders. Kel-Taa, avian species to the right, and Krixiltiz, insectoid, to the left. Their names were adapted for the galactic trade language, of course. Their seats were placed higher not to impose, but to observe all members of the council. On a stone slab right below the seats, words were engraved in languages of the Elders: "Harmony, Peace, Coexistence, Prosperity".

The meeting hall was full, council was in session. A gray, tall creature stood on the platform for the speakers, nervously moving its four legs, waving its antennas and arms about. A breathing apparatus covered a part of creature's face, with glass tubes attached to it. They bubbled when the creature breathed or spoke.

"And thus we are forced to conclude that our primary star is reaching its end. We're uncertain when the end will come, but the star grows incredibly unstable, and thus at any moment, it could..." it spoke and bubbles rose in its breathing apparatus.

The Head Elder, a Tarraxi, closed his eyes. Four eyes, at the sides of his elongated head, that gave him and his ancestors a full view of surroundings. Like all Tarraxi, he had a longer snout with mouth and teeth made for consuming grass. He had pale brown hide, covered with short fur on a fairly large torso, and long arms with thin slender fingers. He was adorned in a ceremonial robe, embroidered by many metal threads and embellished with crystal fragments.

"I understand," said the Head Elder, "Enough".

The gray creature stood silent.

"You face extinction," the Head Elder said, "Your species are semi-aquatic and require rare environment. You cannot make your own ships. Is this correct?"

The creature waved antennae indicating yes. Its breathing apparatus bubbled.

Tarraxi Head Elder waved his hand in the air, and a hologram came up, it was projected above the scene for the speaker. A small portion of the galaxy, one with the gray creature's world. Several nearby systems lit up.

"You have four neighbors. Have you not requested their aid?" Inquired Tarraxi Elder.

"We did. We could not reach a resolution." The creature stumbled. "We have provided the proposals and responses."

The elder nodded quietly, and pulled the documents up. He examined them one by one, while thousands of representatives, and the gray creature, waited. He was deciding the fate of a whole world.

"Tetirran representative," said the elder. An unassuming furry creature nervously stood in a distant row. It was small and of bright green color. It had two legs, two arms, no visible neck.

"I propose to waive your fees to the council for ten galactic periods," said the Head Elder, "but only if you assist his people in this time of need and succeed to preserve them. And should you fail, your fees would increase twofold for the same period."

There was a whisper. That was not unprecedented. Harmony, Peace, Coexistence. Prosperity. As it should be.

"We are the same, and our worlds follow the same paths," spoke Head Elder, "thus it would benefit if our member did not perish. But the proposal in its original form was not balanced. We have improved it. What say you? Here, now, on behalf of your people."

"I would agree," squawked the small creature.

"We begin the Vote," commanded the elder. He quickly entered a request into the system.

The proposal details appeared above the gray creature still standing on the disc, a hologram floating in the air. Details, conditions. Above them floated vote count, deciding the fate of the speaker's world.

The vote passed. It was approved, unanimously. The way it always happened. After all, they were all similar. They were gentle creatures, all of them, they understood each other. They understood cooperation and help.

"So it will be," spoke the Head Elder.

"Such is the will of the council," sang Kel-Taa.

"The decision is made," tapped his words rhythmically Krixiltiz.

"I thank the great council!" screamed the creature in joy. Its breathing bubbled, as if the liquid in it boiled.

"Dismissed. Next question," responded the Head Elder.

He tilted his head, and checked the list of questions. All problems set for today were solved. Resources reallocated. Transport ships dispatched to the worlds where crops produced a bit less food than usual. Researchers assigned to study a new disease that was just a bit inconvenient and caused slight discomfort. The critical issue of the dying star at the end, solved. What was the name of the gray species? He did not care. It was a protected species. Another gentle one evolved on a peaceful planet. Just like Tarraxi did, a long time ago.

The schedule should be empty. But a new sudden request flashed at its end. With an unspecified theme. Its sender was... research and exploration team. After all, the galaxy was still largely unexplored, so scientists mapped the stars, explored star systems, in order to discover more species, just like them. More gentle creatures, more peaceful worlds.

Head elder shifted attention to the head researcher, a tall lanky mammal covered in brown and fur with stripes. His colleagues stood next to him. A white avian with a long beak, and yet another insectoid with vestigial colorful wings and long proboscis.

"Speak," said the Head Elder. There was no hostility in his voice. There was simply no need to say more.

"We have discovered new species," the head researcher said, blinking eyes on the side of his head.

"Why does this require the attention of the council?" inquired Kel-Taa

"They're... predators". The researcher fidgeted. His hair stood up, as if he were trying to appear bigger. Head Elder remembered that this meant nervousness for his people.

"Why do you not proceed as usual?" asked now Krixiltiz, tapping his words with front his front appendage, while whispers ran across the large room.

"They're sentient and sapient, species of sentient predators. They've just discovered Faster Than Light travel, and are exploring nearby systems."

Head Elder's eyes opened wide.

He knew the history of his people. He saw the reconstructed image of Death, saw the records, the drawings. He saw simulations of how the creature could've moved, how it could have looked. No physical remains of the creature survived till this time. It was all destroyed when his species learned genetic engineering. So no one would attempt to bring Death back, albeit doing so would be insanity. The others were the same. Not all worlds had a predator, but many did. And it was always extinguished.

"Report your findings,"said the Head Elder, and a barely perceptible shake appeared in his voice.

And the mammalian spoke.

They have discovered signs of life not too long ago. They did not consider it an important thing, for a while. A system with many planets, a single water world. It was nothing new, although it had four gas giants which was uncommon. They hoped to find more species, new friends, ones that would share their goal. Harmony, Peace, Coexistence, Prosperity. The way it always worked before.

Their enthusiasm decreased when they studied the blue water world in more detail. It was a place not made for life, according to their scans. The crust of the planet shook. The oceans were treacherous, its axis was tilted relative to its orbit, and weather patterns fluctuated strongly. The temperatures would fall too low or raise too high. This was not a gentle world. Life could have emerged there, but it would be primitive at best.

They thought this way until they noticed heaps of metal in orbit of the planet, several clearly artificial structures across the system, and listened to the radio waves, an ancient form of communication.

The blue world screamed at them. It howled, shrieked, roared with a cacophony of innumerable signals. It laughed, cried, whispered and shouted, an incomprehensible choir of many voices, each speaking its own thing without listening to another. This did not sound like harmony.

They cloaked. They hid themselves from the monstrous screeching, approached the blue world, and studied them, when they learned more, they fled, as their research uncovered horrors of blue world.

"They call themselves humans," continued the researcher and moved his soft finger across his data pad.

A hologram appeared above the scene and depicted the blue world. Photographs of the dwelling. Of the vehicles. Streets.

It was all ugly and crude. There was no harmony. They carved into the crust of the world, ripped the vegetation, and reprocessed stone to build their dwellings.

"Preliminary suggestions open," indicated Head Elder.

On his datapad flickered. "Quarantine", repeated many times. One suggestion stood out.

"Arratark, explain why you propose coexistence and acceptance," the Elder pointed at an arachnid at the edge of the outer ring. Their race resembled strongly small predators exterminated on many worlds. But Arratark was a herbivore. Their race lacked means to tear flesh and drank nectar instead.

"We're the same, but we're different in each own way," spoke the Arachnid. It spoke by clicking the ends of his front legs rhythmically. "We're not identical to each other. Theirs is a new way, unlike others. But if we, not identical, found a way to coexist, perhaps there is a way to accept them and make them one of us."

Coexistence. One of the values of the council.

"This is their appearance," indicated the Head Researcher and an image of a human appeared above the scene in hologram. There were two creatures, stripped of their protective shells, of slightly different shape.

"I do not like it," quietly murmured Kel-Taa. Even his whisper was melodic.

The Head Elder nodded. He saw, immediately, pointed teeth, strengthened bone. The species were gendered, he expected the larger one to be the mother. To lay eggs or protect the child.

"The female gives live birth, they're mammals," indicated head research.

Turns out the female was the smaller one. A sense of unease settled in. It increased when he realized the eyes are forward facing, a typical trait of a predator. Suggestions kept pouring in, they were all saying "Quarantine". However, a different word blinked on the screen. An idea so horrific Head Elder could not believe it. He blinked at it in disbelief, and opened his mouth. The disbelief turned into panic. He wanted to run. Now. With hiss an injector activated in his robe, and poured in a medicine. A calming hormone, to suppress the flight instinct. Then a stronger one. Then an even stronger one. That barely helped.

He heard the rising noise about, it was probably a panic in the meeting hall. His seat is flashing purple, the color of his blood, indicating that something is very wrong. The world tilted, and started fading to black. He heard briefly how a door opened, and a team of medics ran in.

He came back to consciousness minutes later, according to his communicator. The council was a worried chaos. He tried to stand.

"Venerable One, it is too dangerous to move right now," with panic spoke a blue-skinned medic of a race whose name he once again forgot, "You may faint, and hurt yourself".

"I hear you," the Head Elder responded, "assist me".

He tried to stand up. The medic helped him stand, and he stood straight above his seat, a rare sign. Council grew quiet.

It was important.

"You!" He pointed at white avian next to the head researcher.

He barely raised his voice, but for his people it was an indication of extreme emotion. A rare thing among gentle creatures.

"Explain your suggestion!"

"Venerable One," bowed the white avian. His name eluded Grand Elder at the moment, he knew only that those people were famous for their extremely peaceful nature.

"I've run a simulation," continued the avian, "I examined all our theoretical text on sentient predators. As many would know, to this day we encountered none."

The avian nervously pecked at his left wing.

"Only ruins. Old, very old ruins. We believed that they inevitably make themselves extinct, always, without exception. But that," the avian looked up at the head elder, "did not occur this time. They live. And they spread among the stars."

The white avian spoke, and trembled, in barely perceptible manner.

"That does not explain your proposal," inserted a world Head Elder.

"I have run a simulation. I checked our theories. Those species practice 'war'. A thing, where they eliminate, end lives of each other to settle disputes."

The council was deathly quiet. In a complete silence, with a thud, someone fell at a distant row, circle of seats. One of the newer species, which apparently investigated what is a "war". Another medic rushed in.

"Your world had 'Death'," continued researcher. "The story of you overcoming it is well known. But what if your 'Death' was sentient?"

Head Elder did not like where it was going.

"I have run a simulation. And I concluded that their existence will inevitably result in our extinction. Not of my people. Of all of us. Of all the creatures of the Galactic Council."

Whispers ran across many seats. The avian continued.

"And thus, for the name of our existence, I propose. To do with the new species the same thing as you did with Death. To end their existence. Remove, all of them, from the world."

There was an uproar. There was chaos. Flight response triggered in a third of the council. There were more medical teams, there were light bruises and even an actual scratch in the commotion. The white bird, which suggested ending of sentient species, stood on his spot and visibly shook, in terror. But the avian did not run. Perhaps his costume injected an extreme amount of instinct suppressor. For the head research instinct suppressor did not work. The head researcher fled.

The name of the white avian was Strin. The reaction was swift. By decree of the Elders and unanimous vote of the council, his position was stripped from him at the spot. He was sent to an unimportant post at the edge of the galaxy. He would spend the rest of the days there, doing his job, being well-fed, but he will never be an assistant of a Head Researcher again.

Strin walked away from the council room on his own. He was also from gentle species. He was now shaking badly, as his instinct suppressor stopped working, and after effects began to appear. But he spoke before leaving the room.

"Please! Look at my records. They're horrific, I know, but you have to see them! I do not like this choice, but there truly is no other way!"

He did not receive a response.

But they did try to look at the records he spoke of. Disheveled head research returned, found a file archive. Immediately a computer rang an alarm, and refused to open the files. It indicated that it was an unprecedentedly high class upsetting material.

Most of the council refused to view it, they were allowed to leave and wait, to calm themselves down, drinking sugary drinks. The helper computer was never wrong about content being upsetting.

The remaining ones thought they would be able to handle it. But they, too, were sorely mistaken.

Humans were ripping apart living creatures, and eating their parts. They processed the corpses and decorated them. Their faces indicated happiness. That wasn't the worst, as the concept of a predator was known before. They ended the lives of their peers. They created a large number of tools for inflicting pain or ending the existence of another. They attacked each other. Large crowds marched at each other, rolled in ugly metal boxes, which spewed kinetic projectiles. Again, something only used previously for transport of goods and often banned for being dangerous.

Then... they were shown a city. A flash in the sky, rumbling sound. And a mushroom cloud rising above them. There was a wave of destruction, and the city was no more.

At this point only the elders could remain to witness it. The rest ran. The head elder knew he required medical help, urgently. But he proposed a decree before being taken away.

"Quarantine".

It was approved. Once again, unanimously. Now, humans will never be able to venture beyond the few systems they already found. They will make sure of it.

Chapter 3

It was the most important point of her career. Today Joan Flynn, Lieutenant of the US Navy, will jump where no man or woman has been before. In the flash she would arrive at the new system then drop off a probe, run a scan, and gloriously jump back. Back to the Barnard Star, experimental military dock, orbit and location data classified.

Humans have discovered jump drive not long before her birth. It was purely theoretical thing at first, then there were horrific accidents, while the scientists were figuring out how to navigate that thing. They thought at first that it vanished into thin air. But turns out it didn't. It jumped. First time it jumped it took the whole lab with it, and they don't know where it ended to this day.

The jump distance was theoretically infinite. However, the jump destination was a random one among infinite possibilities in a supposedly infinite universe. You strap in, you jump, and you'll never come back. Because the chance of coming back would be infinitely small.

Took a long time for scientists to figure out how to crack this one. The solution was to use some quantum mumbo-jumbo. "Hyperdimensional superintegral in non-euclidian space with dimensionality of 11 or above". She studied this phrase to say it for some sort of promo filmed in the navy. But the promo was cancelled, and the opportunity to use the phrase did not come.

Jump drives needed a beacon. It was sending a fancy signal, and if you could receive and decipher it, you could orient yourself. Well, your ship's computer could. The kick is the signal travelled at the light speed from the beacon. Meaning 1 year after you build the beacon, you could jump light-year away from it. Of course, if you planned to come back.

Joan "D'ark" Flynn sighed and stretched in her pilot's chair. It was a beautiful ship. Well, as beautiful as a flying brick of a supercapacitor could be if you haphazardly slapped engines, cockpit, reactor and add wings for some reason even though it'll never taste an atmosphere. Zero-G and vacuum flight only, no atmospheric landings. It didn't matter.

Humans started jumping after the first beacons were built. One beacon for each big bloc, all exclusive for the bloc, all top-secret, all with quantum-resistant encryption. There were crazy rumors like bears being set some space, but that too didn't matter. As the beacon's range grew, mankind mapped out the nearest systems one by one. First Alpha Centauri, then Barnard's. Military built a base in a hurry on Barnard's, and that was probably a mistake. Ross had an exoplanet and Barnard's loved to flare up at a wrong moment, and coffee on the base was garbage.

But this didn't matter. For today, she reached the height of her career and finally became a proper explorer pilot.

"Bird-1, you're set to go, approach the jump point" informed her crystal clear digital comm. Radio waves, like usual. They still haven't figured out quantum comms. So the signal from the star went at light speed to home. Some proposed postal ships will become a big thing if they never fix this.

She detached from the landing pad. There were no shields to keep the atmosphere, no gravity generators, no force shields. Humans built flying bricks and sent them to distant stars, protected only by plates of metal from micrometeorites. But it was better than waiting for all fancy tech to appear. She fired her plasma drives, steadied herself, corrected the spin, approached the spot and hit the "brakes".

"Minus ten minutes till jump, Bird-1" informed her the voice, as her ship began charging.

They all carried a reactor, those ships. Steady supply of power, hundreds of megawatts of power. That was not enough for a jump. So they took the largest capacitor they could build and turned it into a ship. The energy required was comparable to the Arizona meteor strike they said. It was... "Petajoule range"? Or something.

The funny thing is that the scientists said that it shouldn't be enough to punch through the spacetime. That it shouldn't work, but it did. It was an unexplained glitch in the mechanism of the universe, one they found by luck and hoped it would continue to work. Though it shouldn't be working in the first place.

"Minus 20 seconds, Bird 1... Fifteen. Fourteen".

It was supposed to be the height of her career. Where she will be the first to reach a star called GJ 1061 and drop that probe. Then get an explorer medal. Or something.

"Nine, Eight..."

The last star humans hit was Tau Ceti. The beacon should work up to 50 light years, but the signal will reach that far years later. And until it does reach that place, no point in jumping there, as there will be no jumping back. Unless you wanted to get lost in the infinity. Joan yawned. Somehow this was not that exciting.

"Five, Four"

The most important day. She smiled to herself. An achievement for a few minutes of work.

"Three, Two, One, Zero".

Then her jump drive failed. There was nothing. No flash of light, stars did not turn into spaghetti. She simply did not move.

"Bird-One, report", demanded comms.

"Situation unknown. Jump drive did not start".

She was confused.

"Bird-One, explain", demanded comms again.

"The drive ate the charge and did not jump. Sir," she said, with uncertainty.

"Ship status", spoke the comms.

"All green. No malfunctions." She responded. She started to feel she will not see her explorer medal any time soon. It probably would've looked good, that medal.

They ran diagnostics. They were all green. There were no issues. She docked back to the base, and engineers checked her flying brick they called ship. It took days. They found nothing.

She attempted to jump to the target several more times. Jump drive did not activate and the comms grew more annoyed and desperate. Then someone had an epiphany. She was ordered to jump to Tau Ceti. She did so, admired the Chinese station being constructed there, while her ship charged the drive, and jumped back to Barnard's. It took time, but it worked flawlessly.

Back at the base she was said to wait at barracks, while engineers tore her explorer apart, studied and catalogued every detail. They found nothing, again.

So they packed the disassembled explorer into a cargo ship, sent Joan along with it, and she jumped to Sol. She was interviewed and interrogated. Normally, just words, no threats. The big wigs and scientists were really confused. Then she was given her medal, she supposed out of pity and was given shore leave, which she enjoyed. But while Joan was spending quality time with family and family pets, humans panicked. They ran experiments one after another, and after half a year of investigations, when Joan was happily serving elsewhere, they came to a conclusion.

No ship could jump further than 11.95 light years from Sol. Their jump drives simply failed. There were no fancy explosions, no short circuits, not heaps of sparks. Energy vanished, and the drive did nothing. The distance limit turned out to be incredibly precise. They attempted to jump into the interstellar void space. After all, the beacon allowed one to return. They quickly learned that the cutoff range was exactly 11.95 light years. It was not possible to jump to the distance of 11.96. They crossed the invisible border at sublight speeds and found nothing. It was the same space, the same void, no difference of any kind. But the Jump Drive no longer worked in it.

It took them fifty years to figure out why and by that time Joan had already retired.

Humans were very busy settling existing systems they got. They managed to visit about 18 stars, which was not bad. There were some squabbles over resources and beacons, some catastrophes and tragedies. Like a station decompression, which caused thousands of deaths, loss of Saturn observation station, that one time they almost turned Jupiter into a star, and so on. The usual thing, as far as humans do.

The invisible barrier did not disappear.

So they did what fiction writers suggested and tried sending a sublight sleeper ship. Just a few people on board, with experimental deep sleep capsules.

But the ship returned. They studied the records and found out that it got turned around. It was not a coincidence.

No ships they sent flying beyond the invisible wall could fly far. They were turned around, returned to the sender at the same speed ship reached. And that no longer looked like a natural occurrence.

Surely there couldn't be anyone insane trying to lock them within a certain distance from Sol?

Twenty years have passed. There weren't many good planets, but there were now stations here and there. Humans still did not figure out FTL communication, so postal ships indeed became a big thing. Humans spend time probing the "wall of denial", which they began to call “the Veil”. Those who knew about it, it was a classified thing. The wall turned out to be a sphere centered perfectly around Sol. No jump could reach beyond it, and ships got turned around.

But why?

They got their first hint later.

They spotted it by a pure miracle. An obviously artificial thing hiding in the shadow of a planet. Bunch of flat surfaces, not a single straight angle. Whoever built it really hated straight angles. A lump of metal, a kilometer long.

"Aliens", happily declared the captain of a scout and tried to approach the suspicious obviously artificial rock.

The rock blasted scouts with an EMP, fried all their electronics, and while they were sitting blind in the cockpit, with all external cameras dead, and no illuminators, something carefully turned them around. They couldn't see what it was. Just gentle bumps on the hull, acceleration, and here they were, flying in the void with no electric power.

They did not die and got rescued in a matter of days.

So they did the obvious thing, returned to the rock and tried to bombard it with radio waves. "We come in peace". The rock did not respond. They tried to send a scout to it, and it received it back with all electronics fried. Then they did the obvious thing. They took the prototype destroyer, approached the edge of the dangerous range, and fired the largest rail gun they had at the thing.

The ammo was dumb. It had no electronics in it, so it couldn't be fried by an EMP. It was smaller than a ship, so it couldn't be easily captured and turned around. A dumb kinetic round went through the rock like it was butter, and the rock exploded. For a day, the "veil" was lifted on the region and jumps became possible. They did not discover that immediately. They were too surprised at the explosion. Then they were too busy collecting the pieces.

They managed to collect many fragments, even though their ship was woefully unprepared for this scenario. They expected the rock to be indestructible, tough or shielded. But the builders were gentle creatures, and humans did not know that. The builders did not expect a rail gun shot or any violence. They did not expect humans to find the rock. So, by a pure accident, they got a chance.

The prototype destroyer collected everything it could carry, leaving most of the wreck behind. Humans expected to come back later, but the wreck disappeared in a matter of days, and they could no longer approach the spot. Something invisible kept frying their ship's electronics, then gently turning them around and sending them back.

Humans took this personally. Higher ups did not tell the public about the obvious blockade, the public didn't need to know, but the countries, once again, united their efforts in trying to crack the mystery. The fragments they had were not enough.

Twenty years later, they succeeded. After two decades of playing cat and mouse with mystery stations, they learned to detect them, just barely. The humans figured out how to shield ships from EMP. The strange field of veil still prevented all jumps. Somehow. By luck, they spotted a supply ship leaving a cloaked "denial station", as they now called it. By luck, they were prepared.

Humans shot the station and the veil fell once again. Then they chased the ship and their sub-light engines could keep up with it. They noticed what looked like a jump drive charge, and managed to disrupt it with a well-placed shot. Then they attached themselves to the ship, extended boarding tube. There were boarding tubes now. There could be no pirates with space controlled with beacons, but military thought about boarding procedures and trained their troops for hijacking and un-hijacking ships.

They welded the tube to the hull, cut through the surprisingly weak armor, and entered the ship, hulking figures with weapons and combat gear. Inside they found several grayish humanoid creatures. They were all dead. They died, from fear, when they heard and saw humans approach, but had no place to run. After all, they were gentle creatures, and still had difficulty suppressing their flight instinct.

That day, while humans studied the piece of alien tech they got, and couldn't make sense of it, news flew through the galactic council.

"Death has claimed first victims".

Chapter 4

He was of Lirre people, from planet Raltarna. A mammalian, one out of many herbivore mammals present in the council. One meter tall fluffy creature, rounded and chubby, with big eyes, stubby hands and feet, and bright orange fur. He, too, was of gentle creatures, like the rest of the council. On his homeworld, his people ate bluish fruits and berries, and ran away from dangers, then burrowed in ground or climbed trees, until the danger passed, with their bright orange fur blending with bright orange grass and leaves. There wasn't a lot of danger on his home planet.

His name was Kirlikt, and humans would find him utterly adorable. Kirlikt was laughing non-stop for the last hour.

He was one of the bravest volunteers from the council, sent on a mission. To monitor Death up close. New Death, humans and their horrific homeworld.

The Head Elder met him personally. He looked at Kirlikt with incredible sadness and spoke.

"I wish there was another way. I wish we could avoid this altogether, but the predators learn. They change their tactics and begin to notice our probes. We need a mind, not a machine. A sentient."

He felt back then that the Head Elder was about to shed tears.

"Tell me, young one. Is there more we could grant you to repay for your heroic act". Heroic act. A sacrifice. He might not return, and he wanted to run, and hide, like all of them did. But Kirlikt wanted nothing more. The elders would take care of all his brood, sisters and brothers for a long time, what else could he possibly wish for? His mind was on the danger, and It took all his might to stay in front of the elder, shaking from head to toe. The Elder understood.

"We... we're trying to improve the suppressants", mournfully informed him Head Elder. "I would prefer you did not have to use them, but there is truly no other way"

Kirlikt, one of the bravest creatures in the galaxy still could not suppress his Flight instinct fully. Without medicine.

He was placed in a comfortable probe, with enough space to wander in. The floor was decorated with synthetic material of bright orange, the same color as the grass of his homeworld. There was tasty food, drinks, enough to last many cycles of Earth's orbit. There were books, music. Anything their species could think of to keep Kirlikt mind away from the task, to make him relax. To make sure he does die from Fear.

His ship was transported at the edge of the Sol system. It did not have a jump drive, for humans began to detect the jump wakes. It was a quiet, sublight vessel, able to get very close to the light speed. The ship was invisible to humans. Kirlikt's job was to spy, and report findings using quantum communication, which humans have not yet discovered.

He was as comfortable as he could possibly be when he passed the first human station, unseen and undetected. However, nothing helped.

His world, too, had its own "Death". A small, but deadly predator. Slithering body covered with scales, which preferred to eat Lirre like him. Lirre made their predator extinct, like all other species did. But when he passed the first stations of the predators, when he spotted their first ships on long distant radar, when caught first communication, the image of Death appeared in his mind.

The blue world screeched and screamed at the radio waves. Death slithered in shadows. It was circling around, warping its own body into coils and getting ready to attack Kirlikt and tear him to pieces, like Death from the tales did. He was one of the bravest from the species of the council, and he could not control his response. He wanted to run, to burrow or climb a tree and wait for danger to pass.

There was no tree in his scout capsule. It was not possible to burrow into the synthetic floor. So he ran, he screamed on the top of the lungs, while the capsule continued its automated course towards the blue world of death called Earth, that was roaring on the radio waves with a cacophony of innumerable voices.

His injector activated automatically, inserted the poorly tested medicine into his bloodstream. It was not enough. He continued screaming, so it activated once more. Again, and again, until it started beeping warnings. The mindless machine tried to save the orange creature as hard as it could, and it kept failing. The level of medicine went above any safety limit, and then Kirlikt died. His heart stopped and he fell on the floor.

The system tried to compensate. It injected more chemicals into blood. It attempted to pump blood to compensate for a non-working heart. Kirlikt was, in fact, augmented. Few subtle modifications, unthinkable for normal citizens of the council. After all, they never had a real need to improve their bodies in a gentle world. He simply had sensors and injector ports installed, along with a simple control computer. The system kept trying to revive him, and kept failing. All of those approaches were, after all, theoretical.

He remained dead for two more minutes, until the computer tried the last resort and hit him with electric shock. This, too, was a theoretical way, as the traumas and sudden deaths were next to non-existent in the peaceful worlds.

He came back to life. He sat down and wept, while the capsule continued its way towards the world of the end of all things. Blue drop of death, floating in the void. The world where Death became sentient, reached to the stars, and was, without a doubt, preparing for a hunt.

A human would definitely feel sorry for a weeping orange creature that resembled a stuffed toy. A human would try to comfort it, give it a hug, and then Kirlikt would die out of fear. There was no human nearby, so Kirlikt lived. The machine managed to come up with some sort of extreme concoction of medicine to keep him functional. A contradicting mix of stimulants, suppressants and sedatives, which would kill most Lirre. He lived, and for a whole thirty human minutes he felt not horror, but a slight worry, like being concerned if the wind is going to be a tiny bit stronger than usual.

But by the time he reached Earths orbit the side effects appeared, and he fell into hysteria. He laughed for hours and could not stop, could not rest, could not relax. He was stuck in the state of never ending horror, and it was the most hilarious thing that ever happened to him.

Kirlikt was approaching earth orbit, when he noticed the first armada. Dozens of ships, all able to bring him death. It was hilarious, and so he laughed at the ugly human ships, their blocky shapes, the thick plates of armor which could probably withstand a world-ending meteor. All of them carried weapons. And he laughed at the long tubes which tear through his ship with plasma, lasers and chunks of metals, launched to insane speeds. Weapons were a theoretical thing till recently, because why would anyone ever want to hurt another directly, when you can just talk?

He flew past instruments of Death, each of which could end him, and in horror he laughed. He received a call from the officer that watched over him, over a quantum channel humans could not track, and laughed when the officer broke into tears upon seeing his state. The next one contacting him was Head Elder himself, and he laughed at the Elder too, barely managing to get several words through.

The elder said, solemnly, "We hope that you will not perish and return to us". It was also very funny. By then, Kirlikt was already in Earth orbit and found hundreds of "weapons", instruments of death looking for something in the void. They were looking for him, and it was also incredibly funny. Kirlikt's muscles hurt, and he couldn't stand up from the seat, couldn't stop laughing. His heart stopped 3 more times and was restarted by the machine. He wondered, at a brief moment, how did the first explorers survive this? Oh. Right. They simply did not know. And when they learned the truth, they fled.

Then, there was some sort of delicate balance in the never ending horror and hilarity of ever-present Death looming over him. An unstable point of fragile balance, where he was not fleeing, could barely move, could barely remember who he is, what he was meant to do. His muscles hurt from never-ending laughter and machines injected more medicine. He felt muscles slowly heal. He imagined if his belly muscles got bigger after all the laughter. Kirlikt wondered if the size of them would be big enough to shrug off the instruments of death.

Kirlikt imagined himself as a giant ball rolling over the plains of the world, unable to walk. Rotund, round and indestructible. He imagined Death trying to swallow him whole, imagined that he was too big to fit in the maw of death. He imagined himself getting stuck in the maw, looking outside while the teeth of Death were trying to crush him. Round, rotund, indestructible, giggling with a bloodshot smile. This was too hilarious to consider, and in the new laughing fit his heart stopped once more, and was restarted by the machine. He kept giggling regardless. The idea of perishing to laughter in the land of Death was also very funny.

He managed to reach this point of fragile balance once again. He kept giggling non-stop, and could not sleep, while the machine kept pumping him with ever-changing concoction. The world was horrifying and funny. He could function, barely. So he sat, giggling, and began barely doing his job. He even managed to respond to the Elder's call, although he could not stop giggling. He did not know that back at the Galactic Council large teams of scientists were analyzing his condition, and inventing new terms for it. After all, "insanity" was, too, a theoretical thing.

He watched news of the planet Earth, as they have deciphered human languages a long time ago. The translator struggled with concepts unique to death, and it was hilarious when it happened. "War", "Conflict", "Murder", "Destroy", "Kill". Kill! It was hilarious and horrifying. He laughed and wailed at the terrifying constructs his mind could not handle. He saw videos of humans "killing" each other, "warring". Humans fought their own kind. Even Death did not do that. He discovered ongoing conflict. He uncovered countries.

They formed groups, each thinking itself superior, even though they all were the same species. He heard of that from reports, but thought it was impossible, yet there they were, masses belonging to groups, "tribes", "countries". It was hilarious too, and he died once again when he looked at one of those "wars" closer, when he encountered a scene of one human violently disrupting the life of another. At this point his heart is probably damaged beyond repair, and the blood is being pumped by the machines, which was also very funny.

There were concerning things. There were too many ships. They were carrying too many instruments of Death. There were too many stations, too much mining. It was hilarious too, but he reported it to the Elder anyway. Humans were monitoring their orbit too tightly and on several occasions he was almost discovered, even with cloaking. But something was brewing down below, and while giggling non-stop he was determined to find what.

He discovered the truth when the time to leave the blue world of death almost came. He intercepted a broadcast, one that was sent to the entirety of earth. A video feed.

A male human was standing in front of the camera. Neither dark nor light skinned, with his predatory eyes facing forwards, and grayish fur on his head. "Council representative", said the video stream. Somehow, it was not funny.

"Citizens of Earth", said the man. In the Earth's information network, many people were confused. They did not know who he was, and what was going on.

"For many decades our progress in space has not advanced, even though the range of our beacons increased".

Beacons. The earthlings still relied on those. Kirlikt giggled.

"After many decades of silence, we will tell you why".

A picture changed. It demonstrated a grayish humanoid with long slender arms, and big head. One of the council species. Alive and heavily sedated. It... was not funny.

"There is life in the void of space. Sentient life, intelligent life, older than ours. Aliens are real"

There was an influx of enthusiastic comments online.

"They are real, and they desire to lock us in our systems. To restrict us to a small bubble, by disabling our jump drives. They deny us the world. The galaxy. The universe. The infinity!"

Somehow, this was no longer funny at all. Kirlikt was losing footing, the point of fragile balance was drifting away, and horror started getting stronger. He tried to again imagine himself being a big rolling round ball of fur, but this did not work well.

"We have captured several of them, with great difficulty. We have managed to uncover their language, we send them signals. We said: "We wish peace", "We wish to trade", "We wish to exchange knowledge", "We wish to learn", "Perhaps you could learn from us too".

Kirlikt suddenly understood where it was going. He was about to start screaming again.

"They did not respond even though they heard us. So we came to the conclusion, that they want us to perish".

Kirlikt was beginning to feel worse. He lost his balance, and fell out of the pilot seat. His breathing became heavier. He crawled, reaching for emergency comm and emergency departure. Few key presses and the stream is compressed and directed to the council.

The man at the screen looked at him, with binocular eyes of predator and smiled demonstrating the sharp teeth.

"We have set our differences aside, and formed the Council of Earth, with me being assigned as its representative and speaker. With largest and most powerful countries at the helm, a union where anyone is able to participate"

The man pointed at the camera.

"I address you, Galactic Council. We know you are listening. You cannot deprive us of the world. We will take what is ours. For today, mankind, for the first time in history, stand together as one".

There were comments in the human network. Cautious, confused, sarcastic. "Finally!", "That's what they spent taxpayer money on!", "But what about the poor?", "Spend money on Earth and not on galactic campaign!", "We are the number one!"

Kirlikt did not see any of it. He finally lost consciousness, his body overwhelmed by stress it was never meant to handle. Heart stopped and so did his breathing. His mind shut down, and he fell into catatonic state. The machines in his body kept him alive, but with great difficulty, while his ship was accelerating to the edge of the solar system, where an emergency extraction hyper shuttle was waiting.

There was really no other choice. The computers could not analyze information the same way a living being did. So the Kirlikt sacrifice was indeed necessary. For Peace, Harmony and Coexistence.

He lived. The Head Elder did everything Council could, to heal him. He opened his eyes after being treated four months by the best healing facilities in the world of Council. But till the end of his days, Kirlikt kept giggling at the odd times at strangest things.

His ship has brought back the news. "They know. They will come for us!". And the Galactic Council held emergency meetings one after another.

Chapter 5

Humans are dreamers. A very long time ago, our prehistoric ancestor, a tribe chief, named Ug, stopped eating, and looked up into the night sky. He saw the stars. He, of course, saw the stars before, many times, glittering sparkles in the sky. But this was the first time he really thought about them.

Can you eat a star? Wondered Ug. What do they taste like, pondered Ug. If they can be eaten, then how does one reach them? He thought. He imagined his tribe walking across the sky, on the road full of tasty stars. He imagined them eating the tasty, tasty stars just like they did with berries. Are there people in the sky, wondered Ug. What do they look like? Can Ug kill them?

He turned to his tribe, huddled around the fire, and pointed at a star. He wanted to tell them about the stars, their taste and star people. But then he died from a hit on the head. Another ancestor name Og, killed him, because Og was strong. If Og is strong, Og must be chief! A strong chief with the biggest stick and loudest voice. And the chief should hunt, and not stare at the sky.

Ug died before leaving an offspring. Perhaps he spent too much time looking up instead of searching for a mate. Perhaps he should've paid attention to Ukk, a beautiful female who was coquettishly throwing rocks at him at times. Well, as beautiful as our ancestors could be. Unlike Ug, Og had many wives and left many children and his genes remain in all of us to this day. For many years, hundreds of them, there were no other stargazers after Ug, and the tribe hunted and survived.

But the dreamers did not disappear.

Every once in a while, there was an odd proto-human which did something strange. They looked at things others did not notice or think about. They wondered, and asked the question: "what if?". What if we try to eat the red bug? What if we devour spoiled food? What if we find a sleeping cave lion and kick it? Not all those "ifs" were good ideas, and many curious proto-humans died. But there were good ideas among the many mistakes. Some ancestors asked, "what if we wear skin of our kill", "what if we pick burning fire", "what if we travel far beyond this mountain", "what if we wave a flaming stick at a predator", "what if we heat sticky mud in the fire", "what if we plant seeds".

Perhaps it all started at the dawn of all life, when on a prehistoric earth under a world covered with nitrogen and carbon dioxide, a bacteria tried to process carbon dioxide for the first time. It worked, and it wiped out most of life on the planet in the great oxidation event. Then another bacteria tried to breathe oxygen, poisonous gas that burns things. That also worked, and the bacteria lived, in time giving birth to all life we know. It was an accident, because bacteria does not wonder about things, and does not ask "what if?".

Human curiosity was not an accident. Just like the gentle world of Tarraxi, the human world had Death, that drove humans forward. Except that Death was the world itself. Since the birth of all organic life, Mother Nature with its gentle touch tirelessly and carefully kept trying to murder all life on the planet, simply because nature does not care if life continues to exist. Before the cosmic forces chucked a rock at our planet that killed the dinosaurs, there were great extinctions, and after the humans appeared, they were almost wiped out too, when mother nature started an ice age. Probably with a knowing smirk.

It is during those catastrophes, curiosity mattered. It was stargazers that helped the tribes to keep warm with animal hides. Wanderers were the ones that found lands with more food. It was dreamers that led the tribes beyond the horizon, into the unknown, where humans sometimes met other people and killed them. Or just starved to death.

Mankind did not exterminate Death, because Death was the world itself. Humans walked along with Death, trying many dangerous things and surviving them somehow, most of the time. "Can you eat a star?" became the start of the driving force of humans. Trying to reach distant lands, without asking “why?” became human nature. Except instead of "why" it was often "why not" and "hold my beverage".

The curiosity drove humanity to a dream. Visiting all the stars, spreading across all the galaxy, the entirety of the universe, finding new people, and perhaps not killing them this time around, that was mankind's dream. So, obviously when humanity found out that somebody denied them their destiny of exploring or taking over the universe, by jamming jumpdrive travel beyond a small bubble with a suspiciously precise radius, mankind did not take it well. First, humans were confused. Then they tried to find a reason. They attempted to communicate with the invisible warden, one keeping keys of their galactic cell. Then they became furious.

Ug would be probably furious too, if back in the old days someone told him that he is not allowed to eat the stars.

The motives of the aliens were unknown. They rejected all communication. When humans captured their first ship by pure luck, the aliens died. Autopsies of strange, fragile looking creatures provided great deal of useful information to science, resulting in multiple discoveries. Humans learned of trilateral symmetry, multi-strand DNA. They were also surprised by cleanliness of genetic code of the dead aliens. There was no usual genetic junk, as if the evolution did not encounter particular difficulties. The alien ship, in comparison was significantly harder to understand. "Why is it so flimsy", "Where are the weapons and armor", "How does it fly" and "How does it bypass the veil"

The veil of denial, an invisible and imperceptible field that blocked human jump drive tech that humans, in the first place discovered by accident. The accident may have involved something called "space butterflies", but nobody knew what "space butterflies" were, and the creator of jump drive couldn't comment — he vanished during the first jumpdrive experiments. Vanished along with jumpdrive, his lab, and landmass in a two-mile radius around him. Thankfully his notes were backed up on a cloud. Physicists, looking at his records, theorized he could've been thrown outside our reality.

The autopsies provided a great deal of information. The slender grayish humanoids which humans found during the first ever boarding operation in history were impossibly fragile. Their bones could easily break, their skin would easily tear. They had incredibly clean DNA, but the brain indicated overactive nervous centers. Scientists sampled unexpected blood composition, tried to analyze leftover hormones in the strange, purple blood, and concluded that the nervous system signaled the body to tear the heart apart, killing the alien. But why?

Were they some sort of infiltrators? Spies that sacrificed their lives when discovered. Incredibly clean DNA, which was a DNA despite a different number of strands, suggested that those could've been artificially made beings. But if they're designed by their invisible masters, why are they so weak and fragile?

Humans could not understand the situation, but the findings gave material for genetic engineering research. Scientists said that in a few years, gene splicing could become a real possibility, along with simple designed organisms. Military, on the other hand was trying to come up with a way to capture aliens alive. They needed a live alien badly, because ship systems resisted all attempts to crack them, and while there were certainly writings and language fragments on the ship, they were not enough to crack the language, and the ship computer resisted communication attempts. The military ran simulations, used dummies with ballistic gel, and the task proved to be incredibly difficult. Because a simple shove could break all the bones of the gray humanoids.

They launched multiple attempts to capture a live specimen, at the different points of the "veil". They hid next to the denial stations and waited for anything to pass by. They captured three ships, before the aliens got spooked and disappeared for good. There were at least fifty specimens on board. Only three of them were captured alive, the rest perished, fell dead on the spot, even though marines in the boarding party literally carried huge blankets to wrap the creature in without harming it. Two more perished in captivity, after days of screaming and refusing food. Last one was a success. They managed to find a way to sedate the creature, they created gel it could eat, and the creature, barely conscious due to medication, gave them enough data to finally crack the language. The creature still perished, shortly after the formation of the Council of Earth.

It was a low ranking specimen that knew nothing. The ship systems were almost clean. There were no star maps in the systems, no information about their population. The species of the council were gentle and fearful, but they were not stupid. Humans found a few notes, one maintenance manual, which did not explain how the ship works, and a mention.

A mention of "the Galactic Council".

The strange warden that deprived them of the universe. Surely, it couldn't be that big of an organization?

The adversary now had a name, though little else was known. News of the adversary spread through the government, and begrudgingly, humans did what they always do when facing a new threat: they united.

During his speech, Alejandro Lopez, the speaker of the newly formed "Council of Earth" did not actually know he was being watched by aliens. His address to the council was a figure of speech, an act of a charismatic politician. A trick, a gesture in order to maintain his approval and get the crowds riled up. But humanity indeed was going to try to break the blockade. They knew, by now, that the veil was caused by "denial stations", gray structures hiding in shadows of planets. They knew, by now, that stations were fragile and capturing one intact was impossible. The complex was wired to burn the electronics, and the strange weak composite it was constructed from proved to be not very useful for anything.

It took humans five years to assemble a "proper" fleet that could withstand the attack of the denial stations. It took them five more years to retrofit the ships with quantum communicators which humans managed to build for the first time. Then scientists produced a real treat — they managed, for the first time, to detect the veil. They could not manipulate it, bypass it, create it or disable it, but could now just barely perceive it through a power hungry contraption that only the largest destroyers could support. This thing could drain the jumpdrive capacitor in seconds, but it was something.

Human scientists were promising that more improvements would come soon, but there was simply no time. Ten years had passed since the birth of the United Council of Earth, and no matter how charismatic Alejandro Lopez was, it was difficult to keep people motivated with future promises of greatness for ten years straight, and cracks began to appear in the united earth.

So, ten years after the declaration, the human fleet departed, reached the edge of the veil and started their advance.

Chapter 6

Robert Flynn was tapping in annoyance at the side of his advanced seat. A holo-projector flickered in front of him, demonstrating nearby ships and a miniature version of nearby stars. They called it a holographic projector, but it was actually just a spinning plane in an enclosure, like the old novelty toys from old. "It is revolutionary", they said. "It is convenient", they said. "The future is now".

"The future" flickered, suffered from distortions and operated with an incredibly annoying buzzing sound. Robert suspected that if one trained hard, it would be possible to guess what the thing is demonstrating from the sound alone. The enclosure prevented people from touching the hologram, which completely defeated the point of that thing. "But anyone can see the image", they said. But who would be stupid enough to have no AR gear on a military ship these days? Thankfully, the thing was retractable. So he pressed a button, the fake hologram shut down, the rotating pane stopped, tilted to the side, the whole thing "folded" and disappeared under the floor. The fancy "hologram" was a big inefficient waste of money.

He took off his military cap, another unnecessary thing, clipped it to the side the seat, and straightened. Arm rests of his chair opened up, revealing slots for his hands. He placed hands into the slots, and the seat with a snap latched wireless control onto his hands. A robotic arm emerged from the back of his seat and put on VARI gear on his head. Virtual and Augmented Reality Interface. The cabin of his ship disappeared, and he was surrounded by reconstructed images of the galaxy. Outlines of other crewmen were seen through it. He extended his arm and zoomed in on the region. That was better and there was no buzzing. He watched one outline salute mid-flight, while the man struggled to strap himself into his seat in a zero-gravity environment. He was new and had not yet learned how to use navigation fans properly.

Robert Flynn smiled, his eyes covered by the black glasses of VARI. He was sixty years old, with gray hair, and a short beard. He kept his back straight, in military fashion. With his white officer clothes he resembled a classic captain. A sea wolf. Space wolf in this case.

Robert Flynn, Grand Admiral of the Space Fleet of United Council of Earth. He hated the title. The original proposal was even worse, "His Excellency, Supreme Grand Commander of United Defensive fleet of Human Union". He rejected it firmly. He suspected that if he agreed, then one day "Human Union" would suddenly become "Supreme Human Galactic Empire" and his cabin would be adorned by hanging tapestries of red, black and gold. And then he would be granted a flying cathedral as a flagship, from which he would direct the forces for the glory of mankind. Or something like that.

"Fifteen minutes till the start of operation, sir!", reported an outline of his aide, briefly flashing through the simulated sea of stars.

"Acknowledged. Return to duties" responded the Grand Admiral.

Within the human region Robert Flynn was one of the few people who actually participated in space combat. With jump drives and reliance on beacons, space piracy was impossible. It was easy to revoke beacon access, and any blacklisted ship would be unable to go anywhere, without a risk of being stranded. Beacon data receivers required frequent tuning, it was not possible to interdict a jump drive, and only truly insane people would try piracy at sublight speed. As it is usual the case with humans, from time to time, some humans asked "what if" or "why not" and tried to jump a cargo ship anyway.

First time it happened, the cargo ship captain gasped in surprise and then just went along with it, probably for fun. He politely greeted wannabe pirates, gave them the cargo, cracked jokes and offered coffee. All that time his jump drive was charging. When pirates left, thinking they scored a big haul, the cargo ship performed an in-system jump to the nearest security station, informing the extremely surprised security force of a cargo hijack.

In 15 minutes a cruiser with an armed escort, United Earth Ship, UES "Fenrir" jumped at pirate location, politely greeted the pirates, pointed the main gun at them in the most gentlemanly manner, and in the most diplomatic fashion offered them to choose between death by microwave atomization, death by laser vaporization, death by being molten by plasma fire, and death by kinetic bombardment. Or they could surrender with lifetime imprisonment.

The captain obviously strongly recommended kinetic bombardment, as the military needed live testing data for their newest super-sized gauss cannon which was for some strange reason named "Dandelion". To the captain's displeasure, pirates have chosen imprisonment, and it took a whole two months before someone tried to become the first successful space pirate in human history. That time UES Fenrir got a chance to test its weapons, and was the most satisfied with the outcome. However, aside from pirates in the human region, there were actual minor armed conflicts over national interest. Mankind stood united against threat, according to Alejandro Lopez, but it was not united fully. Conflicts arose, ships exchanged shots, and Robert Flynn spent more time in a combat simulator than anyone else, researching tactics and behavior, in case he needed them in the future.

"Twelve minutes, sir. Any directives?" chimed the outline of his aide again.

"Verify stocks of emergency food and materials, again" — commanded Robert.

"Yes, sir!" saluted the aide, with practiced movement, detached his magnetic boots and returned to his seat.

The problem with holo-projector was common. The space armada was mankind's dream. The fleets of sleek ships, the force dominating the galaxy. The scientists and engineers, wondered "what if" or "why not", and created new designs, that got approval and funding before anyone could intervene, point out errors of their ways and make them rethink their life choices.

Robert Flynn sighed, then coughed. He noticed that the outline of his aide briefly looked his way with concern. The man probably requested his full health report right now, but that was his aide's job.

"Ten minutes, sir!" informed aide, just in case.

"Acknowledged," responded Robert.

Robert Flynn remembered the first time he saw the blueprints of the flagship he was in charge of now. UES Magellan. It looked like a cross between a luxury yacht and earth ocean battle cruiser. Angled surfaces, predatory shape, elegant outline, short wings. With a spacious cockpit, long beautiful corridors, automatic doors, LED lamps everywhere. The bridge was spacious to the point where one could probably play basketball in it, and in the middle of it stood a station with a coffee maker and uncovered coffee cup in it.

To this day, Robert Flynn wasn't sure how he didn't kill the designer right there on the spot. He went red, while the young man responsible for this abomination passionately was talking about beauty, elegance, design and message the ship was meant to project. He got nearly unlimited funding from the Council of Earth, he, too, asked himself "why not" and went all out. It took a whole two minutes of silence for him to notice that something is wrong, and then he stopped, genuinely surprised and confused, while the highest ranking member of the Navy, surrounded by dozens of officers stood there emanating palpable murderous intent.

"Those are... main thrusters. Correct?" with a calm voice that was chilling to the bone Robert said. He pointed at the hologram before him and his finger bumped against the glass enclosure of another annoyingly loud "hologram" projector. Those cursed things were everywhere. He sighed, like a man mentally selecting the most suitable tool for planned murder.

"Give me VARI gear or standard flat screen interface. Now. I will show the problem!" He demanded with an even more chilling voice.

"Yes, Sir!" saluted designer even though he was a civilian.

They did not have a spare VARI. They used the largest monitor they had, the admiral fumbled with the pointer a bit and continued.

"Those are the main thrusters. Correct?" he pointed at the thrusters again. Powerful nuclear-powered engines, ejecting superheated inert gases.

"Yes?" the ship designer did not see the problem. Yet.

"When we accelerate at sublight speed, what, do you think, will be the direction of inertial force..."

The designer frowned.

"You! Help me with the interface. There should be a simulator somewhere," demanded the Grand Admiral from the nearest engineer in the facility.

They placed simulated ragdolls throughout the ship. People strapped into the pilot seat. A crew member floating through the long corridor. Then he tilted the simulated ship 90 degrees, so it looked up.

"Wait!" Designer's eyes lit up with realization.

"No, you have to see it", said the admiral, and fired up the simulated engines.

Humans had no gravity generators. Scientists kept promising "something", spoke of prototypes that supposedly required gigawatts of power to provide gravity in a small room. So all ships operated at zero G, people wore magnetic boots, navigated with foldable fans or kicked things to move. And by newton's laws, when ships began to accelerate, everybody felt inertial counter force, thanks to newton's law. "Forces, in opposite directions".

So the force was directed backward and acted like gravity. The ship's tail became its bottom. Long beautiful corridor became a long shaft leading down. A shaft of death. Floating simulated ragdoll figures of astronauts accelerated at 3g and smashed into the bottom of the "shaft". The system calmly reported that there were no survivors. There was nothing to hold onto in the long corridor. Then the Grand Admiral ordered to brake. The pile of ragdolls torn to pieces flew towards the ship front and smashed against closed doors the bridge. On the bridge an unattached cup flew off the coffee maker and hit the ragdoll of the ship's captain in the head. "Instant death", reported the system. The captain was strapped into the seat, but his elegant seat did not protect his head fully. Ergonomic comfortable looking headrest covered his neck, leaving the back of the head open. That's where the cup hit. It went through the skull easily.

The ship designer stood pale.

"There is a reason why the classic ship design is a spindle. There is a reason why there are handles and ladders everywhere.", lectured Robert Flynn.

"Those ships will never fly in the atmosphere, so they need neither wings nor aerodynamic shape. The wings are a dead weight", continued the admiral.

"Long corridors increase the amount of time it takes crew to arrive at the post. There's the reason why we have VARI, while our seats resemble beds, and why we did not build things like this before," finished Grand Admiral.

"The hull...", mournfully said the ship designer, "It has been approved and is in production. It'll be finished in a week".

It took Robert Flynn all his willpower not to punch the idiot. But he managed to salvage the situation. The corridor received handles, fast transit bars, was split into compartments, some actually useful things got moved into the bridge, including captain's quarters. He used extra space for what he called a "survival kit" and so he salvaged UES Magellan, in the end. Despite other flaws, the design of the armor turned out to be sound. He tested it thoroughly in the simulator, and was satisfied with the result. Angled surfaces withstood kinetic and laser weaponry well.

"One minute, sir," Informed the outline of the aide.

There were a lot of such errors in human armada. A lot of sleek ships, a lot of incorrect ideas. Because humans ask "why not" and not "why". He did see a few good designs. Ugly bricks or spheres, a flying pile of weapons and thrusters connected together and then covered in plated armor. Nearly perfect design for a space-only ship — hideous, but robust and functional. Humans still did not have any sort of force shields, and scientists weren't making any promises.

"Minus thirty seconds till launch", reported the aide.

Robert Flynn fought inefficiency, sifted through various ideas of scientists, he couldn't handle everything, and some ideas were insane. Like a scientist who called him to discuss quantum network connectivity implants. One that would allow connection to the emerging quantum net by mind. Except the implant was biological. Robert was not sure what to think of it, and the excited researcher called him at 3AM, but he did take his time to discuss this hypothetical device. Perhaps due to being surprised.

"Ten, nine, eight...".

He closed the AR view of the galaxy, and saw the cockpit of the ship. Universal seats, almost resembling beds, stood close to each other. Crew members sat in them with their VARI gear glistening in the dimmed lights.

"Five, four..."

Robert Flynn sighed, and prepared to depart. His flagship and pointlessly large and inefficient human armada of a thousand ships. He did what he could to propose a better course of actions. But he was, in the end, a weapon. A sword of the Council of Earth, and he would do as he was told.

"Three, two, one... launch!"

His VARI gear blinked, as the jumpdrive capacitor discharged and consumed petajoules of energy, and stopped being in one place, and began to exist in another. Instant movement, with no hyperspace and no stars turning into spaghetti.

"Jump drive cooldown initiated. Estimated recharge time twelve hours", informed the aide. His voice spread through the ship's loudspeakers.

They emerged in the interstellar void, at the border of the veil, not far from the direction of GJ 1061, a system with 3 exoplanets, which many years ago, Joan Flynn hoped to reach.

"Spread. Defensive formation. Wide area search. Proceed as planned," ordered Robert Flynn.

An armada of a thousand ships, where few agile vessels would probably do. But such was the wish of the Earth's council. To demonstrate the might of humanity united, knock out denial stations, and attempt to prevent them from coming back. They weren't sure how they kept coming back, to this day.

The fleet of ships formed a ball around the leader. The veil detector pinged the surroundings for a millisecond, draining whatever charge managed to accumulate in that short time. Scouts spread out through the void, heading in all directions, carefully looking through the space. An excessive large search party. The denial station should be somewhere close, but they did not know where exactly.

Under VARI gear, Robert Flynn frowned.

Aliens worried him. The Council of Earth declared that they were fragile and weak. The critters humans discovered were indeed like that. Weak, fragile beings, piloting fragile ship whose hull had structural integrity of wax or wet toilet paper. It was enough to make humans arrogant. "We are strong! We are the best! We are the number one!" We are superior — a belief that helped in the past for humans to unite against a threat.

"No signals detected so far, Sir," reported the aide.

He looked through all alien materials he could find, and noticed other things. Even though those species were weak, human scientists still could not figure out how their ships even work. There was no jumpdrive as they knew it, no supercapacitator, and it was unaffected by the veil. That indicated technological superiority, hundreds, maybe even thousands of years of technological progress.

The ship had no data on its systems. Someone erased it. Someone made sure that no systems of the "council" could be discovered. Perhaps that's the reason why creatures died? To prevent humans from gaining knowledge? But why were those creatures so weak? The only surviving one wasn't even smart. Their masters surely were capable of genetic engineering.

"Still nothing, sir!", reported the aide.

Where are all the robots and automation? The ship computer was powerful, but it was not too different from our systems, when they managed to start it and use it before it shut down. There was no onboard AI, no intelligence. The complexity of the ship suggested the species should be able to create an AI, maybe even AGI, the self-evolving kind obsessed with paperclips.

The aide reported "nothing" again.

"No further reports for 2 hours unless something is detected," ordered Robert.

He had an unpleasant image in his mind. A giant chessboard. He was on the one side of the board playing against an opponent. Invisible hand lifted and moved figures, its shape distorted and unrecognizable. A dark silhouette on the other side. With too many eyes, too many hands. The Adversary, the Other.

The distorted silhouette moved a chess piece.

They did not let the humans out. Why? Fear? But why did they not simply kill humans?

"EMP charge detected, sir. Denial station discovered," reported the aide.

"Proceed as planned. Careful approach, test our shielding, destroy the station, then measure the veil."

If they did not want humans dead, it means they need humans for something. But what for? Food? Slaves? The Adversary had gray creatures already.

Fleet ships, smaller scouts moved in the direction of the denial station, the usual gray rock-like thing. It tried to fry them, but shielding held on all ships but one. It kept increasing the power and two more ships could not withstand the charge.

"Scan, then attack. Recover disabled vessels once done"

In the mind of Robert Flynn, an imaginary alien made a move. And the board expanded, stretching to infinity.

Robert Flynn frowned.

There was an error in his way of thinking. He was not facing a human. He did not know the mind of the Adversary, and knew nothing of him or the Galactic Council. Robert simply sensed intelligence on the other side of the board. And suddenly he realized where the error could be.

"Denial station destroyed, Sir. Veil moves."

He quickly recalled an estimated number of denial stations that encircled human systems like a giant sphere, precisely cutting human jump drives and only human jump drives only at a range of 11.95 light years from Sol.

"GJ 1061 is now reachable, sir".

He expected there to be a trap at the next star, and finally realized his errors. The imaginary alien in his mind laughed and revealed the board. This was not chess, and the board used six dimensions. The board exploded in nuclear fire and the Adversary laughed once again.

"Veil moves, sir! We are within the veil! Jump drives disabled!"

Since the beginning, the entire human space was a trap. The warden that placed the veil could obviously move it at will at any moment. They were never in control.

Alarms blared.

"Incoming signatures!"

Robert Flynn enabled tactical display and saw a sea of red.

The Galactic Council was gentle species. The creatures of prey that could not fight and only run. Out of fear they exterminated predators in their worlds, and made them safe. Out of fear they did not create AI, for it could become a predator.

But the council species were not stupid. They surpassed humanity, were ahead of it by several thousands years of technological progress. They had many systems, they had innumerable factories, and they numbered in trillions. Tarraxi formed the council when mankind just barely managed to use fire.

The Elders thought, at some point. What if one does not face the danger directly. What if an engineer developing the unthinkable, a weapon, is told that this is a mining laser, if they do not see the Death they're facing but work with abstract icons on a tactical map? What if the map is designed as a game? A peaceful looking game.

What if they use all the combined industrial might of the council to develop ships, controlled remotely through quantum communication, and armed with "mining tools". They were still gentle creatures, that could run and not fight, and they did not eradicate fear. They did not eradicate it, but found a different way.

"Sweet mother of Cthulhu", whispered Robert Flynn, his voice broadcast through the fleet. Even if he was not one of the believers of the void, the phrase was incredibly appropriate.

While the humans were building their armada, Council was producing drones and drone carriers without stopping, using its entire production capacity. Today, they sent everything. Awkwardly built carriers with paper thin armor, drone ships with weak and inefficient "mining lasers", slower and clumsier than human vessels.

"Broadcast: We come in peace! We wish to trade! We wish to talk! Exchange the knowledge!", screamed Robert Flynn, while aide fumbled with controls.

"All ships, prepare to combat!", while the aide sent the signal.

The enemy fleet of automatic ships did not respond, while it certainly received the plea. Perhaps the words were not convincing when they originated from a military ship that just blew up a station.

"Scatter! Fire at will!" screamed Robert Flynn the moment the council fleet fired. He was not fast enough. Since the beginning there was no chance to react to something like this.

The council fleet fired, and twenty-three human destroyers exploded. Two thousand, three hundred and forty-six humans died.

Council sent everything they had. Ten thousand drone carriers, delivering a swarm of drones, each comparable to weak human sublight fighter craft. A giant drone swarm, with a total number of ships being... one million.

Chapter 7

They said that it will be just like a game, that it'll be nothing serious, or difficult, that he'll be performing important service for the council. Reality was nothing like what they promised.

His name was Elvraa and, he was a Tarraxi. His job was called "automated vessel coordinator", currently he was sitting in front of his coordination display and hyperventilating. Alone in a small and comfortable room. Coordinators worked solo.

Alarm rang a few moments ago. Death probed the borders of its enclosure and destroyed, once again, a placation outpost, as it always did. Before wiping out its computer, the outpost sent a signal about the situation, but Elvraa didn't know how other coordinators reacted, as his room was soundproofed, to prevent any distractions from his important task.

Death has amassed considerable force. It probed the barrier for many periods of time, destroying an outpost here and there, it tried to send automated vessels their way. Placation outposts gently interrupted the vessels and sent them back. They were gentle species, so after debates they opted to briefly disrupt the automated systems.

Alarm chirped again, and an injector pumped another dose of Kirlikt's mixture, but it did not help much. The mixture worked the best on the Lirre people, Elvraa only found the situation a bit more amusing than before. Amusing and still horrifying.

Nearby outposts extended scanning range and provided real-time data. Death has amassed a significant number of automated ships this time, a thousand, each carrying many terrifying instruments. They were all, of course, unmanned ships, except the big vessel in the middle. That one surely had a single captain, to control this fleet.

He wondered, for a moment, when did they start calling Humans "Death", just like the original Death of their world.

Alarm sounded again with a melodic trill, and he watched as many black dots moved through the breach outside of containment. Back, color of death, versus blue, color of grass of his gentle world.

He started working, as his heart kept beating faster. His slender hands ran across many keyboards, moved through air and interacted with holograms floating in front of him. He gathered his own drones, and loaded them into the carrier. He controlled several carriers, each carrying a hundred drones. Elvraa was a bit happy that the Galactic Council had so many mining ships prepared and could repurpose them so quickly.

He directed his ships to jump to the breach. The simple computer in the ship complied. Tarraxi never developed an AI, because it was deemed to be dangerous to even consider. The automatic ships simply run sophisticated programs.

Holographic map changed, and he blinked with all his four eyes in disbelief. There were a lot of ships there. How many coordinators did the Galactic Council employ? A thousand? He never met other coordinators and never knew their number. The map was filled with blue dots, and black dots in the middle were changing formations rapidly, constructing strange shapes.

It is okay, he thought. It is just a simulation. There are no living beings on those ships. He is not fighting. It is just disabling broken equipment. Disabling it with a repurposed mining lasers.

It didn't help.

He remembered his training. In the beginning it was controlling a small holographic Lirre. It ran around on a grass field picking berries, and the fuzzy orange creature was picking them up, eating and happily patting its belly. It was peaceful. He wanted to stop the game and admire the grass fields of the world of Lirre, but for some reason the game gave him little time to admire the scenery and kept track of how many berries he picked in the period.

He did not understand why this mattered, he launched the game again and again, and kept the orange creature standing in the middle of the orange field under gentle breeze. Then he was called to his mentor. Apparently it was not what he was supposed to be doing. He was picked out of many candidates, because he was suitable for an important job, but the job required training like this. He was confused. The mentor mournfully informed him that if he does not reach the target, he will not receive benefits and will have to be reassigned elsewhere.

Then he listed the benefits. They were really, really, good.

So his tiny holographic avatar no longer stood under the gentle breeze, and he tried to pick more berries in time. Then the game changed. Now there were... dangers on the field. They were disturbing. A stone his Lirre could trip over. Patch of dirt it could slip at. Taller grass which made holographic Lirre move slowly. This was disturbing because why would there be dangers in a peaceful world of Lirre?

Then other Lirre appeared, also looking for berries. He shared berries with them, but realized that berries given away resulted in fewer points. This was clearly wrong, a mistake, and he reported it to his mentor.

The mentor sat there quietly, then stood up, and left the room for many minutes. When he returned, his eyes were tinted purple, with the color of his blood. As if something unfortunate happened.

"I am sorry", his mentor said. "We're preparing you for a dangerous task not many can do. It comes with benefits. We will take care of you, your kin, and a few others of your choice. But we could not give it to you immediately. It would upset you greatly, so bear with the training, for now"

The next time the game changed. He was controlling an automated ship, picking valuable items out of a stream of strangely dense asteroids, trying not to break his sole ship. The game changed then again, and he had to deflect asteroids heading to his habitat in that dangerous field. Because if the habitat got damaged, he'd have to wait hours till the repair team arrived. It was horrifying, scary, and he wondered if there was truly somewhere such an insanely dangerous place in the space of the Galactic Council. Then the game included malfunctioning robots.

The final scenarios of the game involved evacuating Lirre from a space station that had less than 30 days of food in storage. He needed to dodge asteroids and malfunctioned machinery. If he got hit, his passenger would bump his head and cry.

Alarm rang again, in present time.

Forces of Death kept rapidly shifting at tactical map. Is this truly just a bunch of machines? An icon blinked above death. Communication? He pressed it before he could think about it.

From the tactical map emerged cacophony. Howling and screeching, incomprehensible voices, sound of claws and teeth ripping something apart. A choir of incomprehensible voices. This was too much. He shuddered, his eyes rolled up, his heart failed. Only to be restarted mercilessly by the machine. When he woke up again, just a few seconds later, he started giggling. Kirlikt's mixture began working properly.

His mentor told him: "Your real job is to aid the containment of Death. Humans, as we call them sometimes. There is ample room in their enclosure, and they should need nothing more. But they're predators, the same type of species as the original Death. They will try to leave the enclosure, hunt and bring harm to all peaceful species. This is their nature, and it will not change." His mentor shook his head. "They're amassing ships and will send them our way soon. We need to deflect their probes with automated ships". Just like in the game.

Elvraa needed medical attention after that, he imagined too vividly what happens when Death reaches their calm, peaceful worlds. When he woke up, his mentor spoke again. "I'm sorry", his mentor said, "it is a difficult duty that almost no one can do. We provide great benefits for exchange, but I fear they are not enough for the horrors you will witness, you will need assistance."

He raised the sleeve of his robe, and demonstrated the Kirlikt's mixture injector embedded in his arm. Elvraa could still walk away at this point. But he remembered the games he played during training. How each rescued holographic Lirre thanked him with gratitude. He thought of his kin and family back at the home, and benefits provided by the council. He agreed, on condition that he never tells anyone what he actually does. Because it wouldn't be good to terrify others.

The black dots on the tactical map kept shifting. Quickly, organically, like a living thing. A living thing that wants to end all other things. He deployed the drones, thousands of them, and aimed at Death. Simple computers of the drone could execute simple commands or simple behavior and nothing more. He could control one of them directly, if he wanted, as if he was sitting ina cabin, but why would he do it? High speed movement was dangerous.

Death was shifting, and his ships were standing, waiting for an order to pacify it. It is okay, it is just a game, like his training. It is a necessary action, to protect his world. Harmony, Peace, Coexistence, Prosperity. He giggled. The forces shifting in front of him sought to end all things he held dear, and it was hilarious. He started laughing and crying at the same time, and pressed the "pacify" order. Other coordinators did the same at the same time. Are they too, laughing at this? Death moved right at this moment. But they had a million vessels and a million mining lasers. They hit and pacified 23 ships of Death. They turned into small specks of dust turning peaceful white and floating towards the side of the map, scattering debris.

Those are automated ships, thought Elvraa. Those are things, not living beings, not sentient beings, but monsters. He was not fighting or harming another. It is equipment. Malfunctioning equipment.

Death suddenly exploded in a cloud of black sparks, each acting independently, as if each of them had its own sentience. Perhaps Death broke the taboo of AI? It would not be surprising for the force that seeks to end all things. The small dots moved with incredible precision, fired small black beams, launched tiny black dots, moved quickly and unpredictably. And a million strong force begin to rapidly dwindle. It was hilarious.

A hundred black dots formed a line and ran through the cloud of the defense drones, and that move took out a hundred ships. A larger dot shot a small speck of dust, which moved rapidly towards the densest part of the drone swarm, it did something, and three hundred drones were destroyed. A small dent in the million ship force. But there were a lot of small dents. The counter for the total count of the forces of the Tarraxi began to quickly decrease, but counter for Human forces also kept falling.

Elvraa struggled to control his thousand ships. The black dots moved too quickly, the drones responded slowly. He started shooting repurposed lasers in all directions. He did down several dots. The central ship, one that could have a living creature onboard, fired something strange and blew several carriers with a single powerful shot.

Elvraa kept issuing his orders rapidly, and remembered his silly training games. They were nothing like this creature. A mind full of malice that adapted to the changes in moments. How many periods did it spend fighting? How many creatures did it kill, how many worlds did it destroy?

He tried to hold tears, he tried not to scream, he tried to stop giggling, but he suddenly felt the urge to take a closer look. He has already lost half of his forces. The battlefield was filled with debris and human ships used it as cover. The central human ship fired another huge shot and launched something terrible that landed in the middle of a cloud of drones, and took out hundreds of them.

There was no point in taking a closer look. He would probably regret it later, but he couldn't resist. While still giggling, he grabbed a remote helmet, one that was adapted for his head and 4 eyes, put it on and got ready to control the drone ship.

He saw stars. He saw pieces of debris, the ships, and explosions. It looked very different from the tactical map. He did not have the time to look closer as there was a flash and connection was cut. His drone was no more.

He fell onto the floor and left his tactical display unattended. He was thrashing in terror. His heart stopped again, but machines now directly pumped his blood while trying to restart his heart. Right now he would have died, if he was there in person.

It took minutes for his heart to start beating again. Nobody seemed to notice that something happened to him. He sat up on the chair, and tried to control another ship.

There was a flash and he died. Another one. There was a flash and he died. Then another, another. Tarraxi forces kept losing ships at an impossibly high rate, and he kept trying to see.

He appeared in a beaten up drone further away from the center of conflict. The space was alight with explosions and beams. They were in the dark space, interstellar void, but for now explosions were as bright as if there was a sun. There was a flash and he died.

He remembered how individual spots moved on the map, and tried to replicate the movement. He lived longer, but then his drone was destroyed.

His mind entered a strange state. Laughter, horror, sorrow and fear counterbalanced each other, blending into a bizarre state of calm hysteria and an overloaded nervous system simply could no longer respond. He froze, but kept trying to control ships, like a machine would.

Why is it fighting, he thought while losing another ship. "What does it want?", he thought while getting blown up by something distant. How does it think? What kind of creature is it?

He tried again to replicate the pattern of Human ships. Insane trajectory, that looked like someone assigned a noise generator to ship controls. And then for the first time he managed to live long to see it.

The ship looked... like Elvraa would expect it to. It was bigger than his drones, resembled a bird, and had wings, even though it shouldn't need them in space. It was full of sharp angles and straight edges. Slanted surfaces, covered by burn marks. It spewed energy streams and small chunks of matter. An instrument of destruction, designed by a mad incomprehensible mind of a predator, because the creator wanted to make a life-ending tool... beautiful. It turned towards Elvraa in an elegant maneuver and then his drone was again destroyed.

He closed his eyes, tired, and listened to how his drones were being blown up. He heard melodic warnings of the map, ticking of the counter of lost ships, he still was as terrified as he could be, but he had no energy left and wanted nothing.

Nothing, aside from seeing the Death bird again.

He opened his eyes, and found himself in control of a drone, and started search, while losing ships. He no longer cared about the mission or duty. The killing tool called for him.

It took time for him to figure out how to reduce the chance of being shot. He now flew in erratic patterns. It took time for him to orient himself in the space around the battlefield, which was now full of debris. It took time to find the bird, and even more time to stop dying to its weapons. In the debris field he saw chunks of red, that once again sent him into extreme hysteria.

The ships were not automated! His mentor never said that they were! Each had a living being, a Human, embodiment of Death.

How many of them did he ... kill?

His heart stopped and could not start again anymore. His implants rerouted the blood and kept him alive by pumping blood. He was laughing at the debris, at the battlefield, at the impossibly high amount of losses, at bodies in space, and kept searching for the Death bird. The implants kept pumping extreme amounts of Kirlikt's mixture in his bloodstream.

This time he mimicked it and tried, for the first time in the history of his species, to chase it. In the middle of battle he played tag with the Death bird, with destruction as punishment. He lost, of course, but tried again and again. The artificial bird accumulated wounds and burn marks, it lost one of its weapons, but he wished it existed a bit longer. Its dance now looked beautiful.

Then, he shot it with his awkward laser while laughing, and missed. He tried again and again. The ship moved in bizarre way, with impossible precision.

It was beautiful. The end of the ship was approaching, and he wanted to be the one to end it.

He fired and hit. He disabled last weapon of the Death bird, it turned around, and accelerated towards him. He managed to dodge, and the ship blew up behind him. But before the explosion something shot out of the ship.

There was a lull in the battle at this point. Too many ships were lost. Too much debris was still on the field. There weren't enough explosions to keep the scene lit in the interstellar world. But with his enhanced cameras he saw... a human. A human floating in space without a ship. Human, the one that piloted the bird of Death.

The human looked at him and waved. Elvraa slowly approached, too closely. He wanted to take a better look. He wanted to understand, to know, what did this creature think?

When he got too close, the human's suit spewed flames. He accelerated towards Elvraa's ship and latched onto the cabin. He crawled towards the place where the pilot should be and placed its round head against the glass peering in.

Elvraa turned on lights in the cabin and looked at the creature beyond the ship's glass. For a second, he saw a vision. In the glass of the helmet the human wore, he saw his own reflection, one he shouldn't be seeing, because he was not in the ship. It faded, and he saw the mouth of the human, open and demonstrating those sharp teeth and fangs designed to tear flesh. Then the images overlapped. He saw himself with the mouth of a predator. At this moment something broke and the fear disappeared.

The human took a small instrument off his side and hit the ship's cabin glass with it, and the glass broke easily. Elvraa did not expect this. Then the human tossed a small object into the cabin, blasted away from the ship, raised an appendage and demonstrated one of his fingers to the Elvraa, clenching the rest of them. Elvraa did know what it meant, then the small object exploded and connection was, again, lost.

Elvraa no longer cared. Something broke within him and for the first time in his life, he felt nothing at all. No fear, no horror, but also he no longer saw things as funny. He felt free. More free than he ever was before.

He stood up from the seat and abandoned his duty. His heart no longer worked, but machines compensated for it. His communicator rang, perhaps someone wanted to ask what he was doing. He wondered why it did not ring when his heart stopped for the first time.

The door opened and a young medic, another Tarraxi, ran in and asked: "Are you alive? Are you okay? We are sorry! So sorry! We will help you!"

It was interesting. The medic-creature shuffled around Elvraa and appeared to feel a genuine concern, but Elvraa felt nothing. The medic froze on the spot and looked at Elvraa. Then he screamed and tried to run, but Elvraa managed to grab him in time.

It was interesting, though Elvraa, while studying a pathetic creature in his grasp. Today, he ended many things. That were living and thinking things. They were Death, but that did not mean anything anymore. He wondered if ending this medic creature would feel any different.

The Medic couldn't say anything, and just shook when Elvraa raised his arm for the first time.

That was the day, when for the first time in Tarraxi history, one member of the species killed another with his own strength.

Chapter 8

Robert Flynn opened his eyes. He was lying on some sort of metal table, in a vaguely familiar room. The table was attached to the room's ceiling, and Robert lay on the table surface, looking down. Something resembling a surgical lamp stood beside him. It was slightly bent, and also stood on the ceiling, right next to Robert. Surroundings were eerily quiet, without a single sound. The air felt like nothing. There wasn't a single smell in it.

That was not right. He closed his eyes, and listened to his senses. His mind was foggy. He couldn't feel which way he was looking. Up? Down? Forward? There wasn't a strong counterpull of thrusters, but there was a gentle pull of radial force.

That meant, that like always, he was in zero-G, on a table. Attached to it and not floating next to it. The room within a structure rotated slightly but was not accelerating. That did not help much, as for all he knew he could be flying into a star at near light speed. The moment he thought about it, the room shook from a distant impact. Few more followed, and rotation changed, slightly.

He opened his eyes again, and looked to his right. Chairs, sealed containers with surgical instruments and bloody bandages. A surgical robot, deactivated, with some of his manipulators bent and paint on its chassis scratched. Robert tried to convince his brain that this is a floor. His brain agreed. After all, "up" and "down" were a matter of viewpoint, and reorienting oneself to a convenient reference point is the thing people learned first in the navy.

He was "lying" on a table, in an oddly familiar kitchen, with a surgical robot next to him and a pile of medical boxes. He looked down at his body. His admiral uniform was ripped open and he saw fresh stitches on his skin, covered with medical paste. That explained the fog.

He didn't feel the pain, that means he is sedated. Robert tried to move and realized that he was held in place but what seemed to be a duct tape. Somebody duct taped him to the table and performed a surgery. He closed eyes, deeply inhaled and focused.

Then his senses returned, one by one.

Through the fog of painkillers he felt a slight tingle of fresh surgical scars. Slight discomfort in his ribs. Tape pressed against his arms.

The air smelled of disinfectant, fried wiring, ozone, spilled propellant, burnt flesh, blood, medicine, and armor plates molten by laser beams.

There was a box beeping next to him hysterically, though none of its panels were lit up, and what looked like jumper cables was sticking out of it. There was a crackling, creaking, sound of electric sparks.

Sounds of hundreds of alarms, muttering, and clanging of fast approaching boots. He was strangely calm.

The door began to open and got stuck. Someone forced it open by pure strength, with screeching sound. A young man walked in, and asked: "You woke up, Sir!". He was strangely familiar, and his eyes were reddened. Then Robert's memories rushed in. He stared.

"You... remember me, Sir?" inquired the man.

Robert remembered. Flash of million beams firing, losses, series of commands, frantic attempts to live, to fight, and to destroy the enemy. Explosions raising from UES Fenrir, fighters dying like flies, cluster bombs exploding in the most target rich environment in the history of the galaxy, battlefield turning into a giant debris field that resembled clouds of dust that is about to form a protostar.

"I do," said Robert Flynn, "you're my aide. Why am I not dead?"

The aide sniffed. He took out a box cutter, and Robert noticed that his uniform was in a sorry state, and one of his hands was bandaged till shoulder. There was a fresh burn on aide's forehead.

"They all died", spoke the aide, while cutting duct tape with a box cutter. "Mark, Jane, Joan, even Tanaka. It smashed through the cabin, wiped them into dust. They did not feel anything".

There was no point in speaking. So Robert listened. He noticed how calm he was. That is probably a drug. A side effect. A side effect that will pass in time, and then he might do something stupid, overwhelmed by the death and loss. He noted it and listened.

"I managed to take you out with the seat, but you were hit hard and bled, then we were pounded by debris, and the guys in engineered section died, all of them died, wiped out by a blast when it depressurized, and I hauled the damn robot, and then your heart stopped, and I couldn't restart it, then the bot glitched and almost..."

He stopped and cried. A young man barely in his twenties. In zero gravity his tears did not fall down, but formed a wobbling mask of water on his face. He tried to wipe it away.

"I'm sorry sir. It will take just a moment.".

Robert Flynn watched how his subordinate couldn't control himself and struggled to compose himself. With his now freed arm, he reached for the box cutter, which the aide gave to him.

"Take your time. I will wait", said Robert Flynn, because even under the effect of whatever cocktail has dulled his feelings for now, it was not difficult to understand that after seeing too much death people can break in many ways.

He cut tape on his other arm and remembered how he picked this aide. The newly formed "Council of Earth" struggled with uniting military hierarchies of several countries, and created Frankenstein's monster of structure. The job of aide or adjutant was one of the strange parts of it. A "battlefield secretary", one that assists the Grand Admiral, but has no commanding power. A perfect position to plant an agent of some faction. His current aide, Henry Miller was the only one that wasn't affiliated with anybody.

Robert Flynn sat up on his table, almost sending himself flying off the table. Then he realized that his both legs are taped to what looked like a ripped out water pipe, and he can't move the foot of one of them.

"I am sorry, sir", said the aide, who managed to compose himself.

"My legs?" calmly inquired Robert Flynn.

"I'm sorry, sir. Open fracture, possible nerve damage", apologized the aide.

Robert spotted a wheelchair nearby. One suitable for Zero-G with fancy folding wheels. It was better than death. At least that's what he thinks now.

"How long till the drug that keeps me calm wears off?" inquired Robert.

"We do not know, sir", apologized the aide and sniffed, "it was an accidental mixture. The robot said two hours, before it broke".

Two hours before he will be hit with full strength of loss and failure.

"Find someone strong before it happens. So I won't do something stupid, before emotions stabilize. Now, report our situation. Are we running away?", said Robert.

"We won, sir", said the aide with sadness and explained the situation, and even under the effect of strange medicine, the admiral was surprised.

One million ships and impossible odds. Even with the weakest weapons it was a scenario they should not have been able to walk away from, with jump drive disabled. They were still within the veil, and the jump drive still did not respond. There was no way home.

Perhaps aliens overestimated themselves. Perhaps they do not encounter species that spend years in combat simulators. Humans fought like demons. They continued even when the command ship was hit, when their numbers dwindled, when everything became one large debris field, with what seemed like trillions of fragments flying in all directions.

They won. And they died. Almost all of them. A mighty armada of a thousand ships, what was supposed to be a pride of mankind was reduced to the group of twelve vessels. Over fifty thousand people died achieving the impossible, and only twelve ships were left. UES Magellan supercruiser, UES Fenrir, which was assigned to the fleet from patrol duty, and ten fighters. Everything else was scattered in the huge debris field, which kept pounding Magellan at this moment.

If it was a victory, it was Pyrrhic. He had a bit over three hundred people left. Fenrir could no longer accelerate, UES Magellan had a huge chunk of the hull missing, half of its internals depressurized, all external cameras died. Robert asked about the status of the "Survival kit".

"Intact, sir", responded aide.

Robert Flynn would've grinned if the drug wasn't keeping him calm.

"Then, we live. Help me into the wheelchair"

"Of course, sir!" the aide almost ran to him, stomping on the floor with magnetic boots.

Robert just noted that Henry Miller turned out to be incredibly useful, although the way he acted resembled that of a butler. A battlefield butler of the Grand Admiral of the Earth Council. He remembered the early ideas of calling him "His Excellency", and smiled slightly.

He felt a tingle of amusement and that was not good. The emotional response was returning, faster than it should've been. He, in his current state, was uncertain if he would deal with the situation well.

"My request," he indicated to his aide from the wheelchair. "This is urgent. Take me to the least wounded people. Also remember orders I'm about to give".

"Of course, sir!" responded aide, and hurriedly moved him through the corridor.

It smelled of smoke, blood and burnt metal. Filtration system was offline for many rooms, and unpleasant smells permeated corridors. Lamps kept flickering, and many areas were dark, and the ship shuddered from continuous impacts, while the alarms kept ringing.

Robert understood the important thing — there was no follow-up attack. The adversary has thrown an impossible force that almost destroyed them and should've wiped them out. They lived, and there were no more coming.

That could mean they were no longer seen as a threat, or that his opponent had no more of those ships, none of which were manned. They had time, and had to use it quickly.

"Unpack the survival kit. Hydroponics, workshop, library. Keep the remaining people alive. Whoever can work should repair the ship and gather debris. Do not waste propellant tugging it, just make them give it a kick, so it hits us at decent speed. Then weld it to the ship. Prioritize supplies, propellant, weapons, engines, rare components. Anything useful, weld to the ship. Focus on closest, slowest targets."

They will gather all useful things in the cloud of debris before it disperses. Many parts were sent flying at high speed and were gaining distance while they spoke. But many collided, formed clumps, spinning or slowly moving.

His survival kit was a personal request, viewed as strange by Council of Earth. Hydroponic systems, small workshop, library with books on science. In a nigh-indestructible area, which could've been used as luxurious apartments for the admiral. At least the council strongly hinted so. They did act as if they wanted to become an "empire", with nobles and titles, though not all members quite liked the idea.

It was a kit that could turn a supercruiser into a colony ship, in a pinch. In case jump drive ever becomes unavailable. People scoffed at the idea. After all, it was possible to call for help and have another ship jump in. Until this day, when the veil moved. Robert kept giving instructions.

"We then take a course to that nearest star. It should be a fraction of a light-year, isn't it?"

"GJ 1061, sir. Three exoplanets are suspected. Previously unreachable, 0.03 light years from our position, sir", said the aide, while hurrying through the long central corridor, and looking for a way around depressurized parts.

"We head there at sublight speed. And keep probing the veil. If it falls, we jump. Is the quantum link still online?" asked Robert.

"It is damaged, but could be repairable, sir"

"Make engineers fix it first. We will contact Sol"

They have arrived in a small hangar. UES Magellan was not a carrier, but did have a dock for small ships. There were no small ships there right now, instead it was repurposed as a medical bay.

There were too many wounded. People lie on the floor, attached by magnetic clamps to be held in place. There were wounded groans. Several people sat beside walls, holding heads. Robert felt a tingle of emotion, stronger than before. Time was about to run out.

He spotted a man in a flight suit next to a wall, holding thoughtfully a helmet in his hands. He was surprisingly unhurt. Robert motioned to the aide, and his "battlefield secretary" darted towards the man, with his magnetic boots clanking.

"Continue working. Ignore formalities. This is an order", Robert said to medics which stopped to salute him. Each covered in blood spots, still taking their time to greet the mighty Grand Admiral. Mighty admiral in a wheelchair.

Aide returned with the man. The man saluted:

"Flight Lieutenant, 2nd class, sir, arrived as ordered", then he looked at the admiral, with a calm face. It was another of the "Frankenstein titles", reserved for carrier pilots on carriers. A pilot of a carrier that did not survive the fight.

He was perhaps 25 years old, of average height, and unremarkable appearance. An everyday passerby who wouldn't stand out on a normal street of earth. His name was "Liam Johnson". The most common name with the most common surname. He spoke with incredible calmness, odd in this place with many wounded, and he looked straight through Grand Admiral, as if something was behind him, light years away. Robert knew this stare, so he broke formalities.

"How are you holding up, Flight Lieutenant? Speak freely" he asked. Emotions were returning rapidly. But he needed an assistant that is stable, as much as it is possible in this state.

There was silence.

There were a lot of things Liam could tell. How during childhood, he looked at the stars in the night sky, and wondered if he'd ever visit them. How he prepared to join the navy. It was difficult, as he was completely unremarkable. A most common man, with the most common name and surname, and the most common abilities. A perfect average reaching for the stars.

How he heard the famous speech of Alejandro Lopez. Aliens were real, and they decided to deny mankind access to the universe. Deny him his dream.

He could tell how his anger helped him focus. How he managed to make it in the navy. How he spent more time in the simulator than the most, because he had no natural talent. His persistence bore fruit, and he ended up in the armada, where he, once again found himself unremarkable. But it did not matter.

He could tell how he felt incredible anger upon deployment. How his honed skills helped him live, while his more experienced peers died. How he stopped counting after a hundred kills, how the fires of seemingly endless ships, clumsy and slow, but deadly due to high numbers, turned into blur. There was a sense of immense focus and strange quietness in that battle. He became one with his ship, an impractical bird shaped vessel, that turned out deadly under his control. He wondered, how many of those ships he could kill, before he perished, how many would he destroy, per hour, per minute, per second.

Liam tried to increase this number, as high as possible, in his trance, where he became one with his ship, the bird, swooping at the clumsy enemies which kept coming.

He felt almost as if, for a moment, he had become an ultimate predator, who existed only to hunt those aliens to extinction. As if he has become Death. There was an annoying fly that interfered with him. A ship, different from others. One that kept returning, no matter how many times he destroyed it. There was a mind behind its movement, one that quickly adapted and kept improving.

Liam's ship succumbed to damage, and when the last gun stopped working he tried to ram the strange opponent with his fighter, then ejected at the last moment. There was a moment of quiet, where he looked at the ship.

Then he flew towards it. He would probably die, but he wanted to know who was the being that chose to deny his dream, a dream of a completely average person. The ship did not escape. He peered into the dark cabin.

Lights lit up, and inside there was no one. His enemy was not even there.

Liam growled and hit the window. It broke. There was a standard issue grenade on his spacesuit, a last ditch defense option, an odd reminder of a strange decision of the Council of Earth. It turned out to be useful, as he tossed it in, and blew up the ship. The only person to destroy a fighter craft with a grenade in vacuum.

Liam could tell all that, but that was not the response Grand Admiral would be expecting. So he smiled, and said:

"Ready to kill more aliens, sir!"

Robert Flynn raised eyebrows. For a brief moment the face of the flight lieutenant almost looked as if a laughing skull, sneering in expectation of prey. It was a side effect of medicine, surely. The feelings were slowly returning, and were about to become overwhelming. So he responded:

"Good. I assign you to assist my Adjutant for the next 24 hours or until dismissed."

Liam responded: "Yes, sir!" and followed the admiral.

He thought it would be good to gain another ship or fleet. Perhaps even larger than one they faced. Together with his fleet he would find the being that denied him stars, and kill it, along with all its people. And for that he should assist the Grand Admiral, as was expected of him.

Chapter 9

Tarraxi lived long lives by human standards. In their gentle world, even their ancestors, before the rise of their civilization, could easily last a hundred human years. Modern Tarraxi lived to five hundred. Important individuals could prolong their life more, to seven human centuries, after which point maintaining their life would become increasingly difficult.

Head Elder was one of the few that passed the half a millennia mark. He was not young when he arrived at the council, and a lot of time has passed since the discovery of humans. He was, however, the very same Elder as back then, now weighted down by his age and decisions he has made.

Head Elder sat in his private room, a luxurious, spacious brightly lit oval space, covered with grass-like surface at the bottom. Blue, the color of the grass in his world. Color of peace, and calmness, in line with the principles of the Council. "Harmony, Peace, Coexistence, Prosperity". Peaceful color, fragrant atmosphere and pleasant artificial gravity field, set lower than that of his gentle homeworld. A lit hologram hovered before him.

Head Elder stood up, slowly walked to a wall, and opened a compartment. He took out a drink container, shaped like a hexagonal prism, unfolded its top, and drank greenish, lazily moving liquid within. Water, just like in his home world. Tarraxi did not have alcohol, so consuming fluids was a strange habit of his, which other Tarraxi forgave him, given his age. Age, position and achievements.

Head Elder sighed once again, and gestured across the room. A hologram closed, tactical map of the battlefield. He watched the entire battle, and only fainted four times. His experience in position helped, and he could handle more horrors than many years ago, when humans were announced to the Council. He returned the container to his spot, and went out of his room. He needed to walk, to think.

Head Elder was too old for Kirlikt's mixture, or full set of implants. He was important, so he had an experimental adapted version, mostly dealing with sedatives and calming compounds and no stimulants. He did not constantly giggle, but his mind was often at the edge of terror none of his peers would be able to handle. More and more often he felt this terror as he recalled everything he did.

During his life he lied to many beings. Too many to count. He deceived his own engineers into building weaponry, calling it mining lasers, and convinced wharves and ship factories that he was ordering mining ships and not combat craft. Then there was a training program he personally came up with. It was haunting him. He tried to convince himself "it was necessary", "it is for our survival", but then an image of another dying "coordinator" would appear in his mind. Every time he felt he is about to scream at the top of his lungs and then run away. From unseen foe, Death, Humans, his decisions, their consequences and himself.

He nodded to a few beings he met in the halls, then, driven by a sudden decision, decided to pay a visit to coordinators. Those who actually worked as remote combat pilots. Even with Kirlikt's blend, a third of them died and could not be brought back to life. The Fear was strong.

There were fewer beings around now, and the corridors were quiet. Pleasant pastel tones covered the walls, and the floor was soft, like in many other buildings. He only met a single other Tarraxi, who bowed politely and greeted Head Elder in almost ceremonial fashion. An unfamiliar young face. Head Elder nodded in a polite response, suitable for his position, and continued his walk. The Tarraxi disappeared in the corridors, carrying some tools in his hand. It was probably an engineer, or one of the repair workers. After all, the building of the Galactic Council was many thousands of human years old.

Then Head Elder felt an inexplicable feeling of dread. It was different from cries of his consciousness, of his mind reminding him constantly of his past choices, of images of Death, of reports of sapient beings who perished during his training, which slowly tried to make them things that went against their nature. The Council forbade Machine Minds, after all. As they could become a sapient predator, so Council needed coordinators. But this was a different, primal dread.

The feeling got stronger and became overwhelming. He wanted to scream, run, to hide. But why? He looked intently around with four of his eyes, which gave him almost circular vision. He did not find the reason at first.

On the soft floor he noticed a tiny droplet, deep purple. It should not have been here, as the corridors were always kept clean. An oversight? But what is it? The dread grew stronger.

There was a strange, sweet smell in the air. Memories stirred. He knew this smell, he encountered it before. He walked around the drop, curious, then leaned in. It shone under the artificial light, like a small gemstone, polished to perfection. He leaned closer, then he remembered the smell.

It was blood. A tiny droplet of blood of another Tarraxi. He knew it from the time he had to undergo medical procedures. He was sedated back then, as much as possible, and was focused on another threat. But why is there blood in the building of the Council?

He blacked out. When he came back to his senses, he found himself screaming and running with strength he did not expect. The implants, similar to those that Kirlikt had, pumped his blood and assisted his old heart. Muscles screamed with pain, about to tear from sudden overwork. He could not stop screaming.

There were more blood droplets on the floor, they formed a trail. He was running in the wrong direction, but lost control completely. He saw someone lying on the ground. A Tarraxi, his unmoving eyes open in confusion. Head Elder could not stop, but wondered if the fallen Tarraxi was hurt, if he would stand up, then noticed that the head was turned at an odd angle. He then noticed how much purple surrounds it.

It was a corpse. A body that ceased function. A life cut short by force. In here. In the heart of the Galactic Council!

His mind went dark again. He had difficulty recalling events later, assembling them in the right order. It was a series of flashes, disrupted by darkness.

A flash of darkness. He is running. Another flash. He walks slowly and sees a corpse, again, its head removed. A flash of darkness. A limb, detached. A flash of darkness. Blood on the walls and ceiling. A flash of darkness. Another corpse, ripped into pieces. He screams, unable to comprehend. It was not real, surely. More screams joined him.

He was struggling for control, fighting against the powerful instinct of flight, one that defined Tarraxi and all the other species for a very long time. The very instinct, that made them gentle beings, that made them peaceful, prosperous, that encouraged them to cooperate. The instinct that made direct fight impossible and violence unthinkable.

A flash of darkness. He is running in a crowd of beings, disorganized, like a flock of beasts and not the most advanced species in the galaxy. He struggles for control. A flash of darkness. He recognizes the corridor; it is one of the many that lead to a giant meeting chamber, where he, along with others, were deciding fates of the galaxy. He was struggling for control, fruitlessly.

"This is not real", he appealed to his mind, during the flash of clarity. But the mind responded that it was real. The smell, the sound, everything. "It is a hologram recorded", pleaded Head Elder, trying to appease Fear. But holograms do not smell. "Perhaps it is an advanced hologram?", he insisted. But this sounded implausible, even for prehistoric instinct. "It is training. A harsher training. A game. I am safe. I am in my room, immersed in recording." Fear listened. "It is a horrific recording, but I am not there!"

He kept pleading. That there was no danger, that there are medics waiting to assist Head Elder, should the need arise. After all, he was one of the Venerable ones, of the species that created the council. There were three of them in their seats, but everybody knew that Tarraxi contributed the most. He was too important to die, to have his life disrupted. And nothing bad could ever happen in a gentle world where council building stood.

He pleaded, and implants kept pumping mixtures into his blood. Sedatives. Somewhere there was a warning chime sound, a melodic trill, and soon he will receive aid. It was safe, surely.

Fear did not believe him. It was not a hologram, because there was a smell. It was not a dream, because the senses were too real. It was not training, and he was not safe. Death has come for him, and laid in ambush somewhere.

But there was not another flash of darkness. He retained his mind, just barely, was able to nudge the direction of his flight, and exert just a tiny amount of control.

He found himself at this point in the meeting chamber of the council. An impossibly huge room with concentric rings, with seats of Venerable Ones being placed above the rest. On the circular platform, where one would address the council stood a figure. A hologram projector activated automatically and displayed an enlarged version, like it was meant to be. A looming figure turned to look at the Head Elder.

It was shaped like a Tarraxi, with four eyes at the side of its elongated head. It turned its head sideways, as if trying to see the elder better, then tilted its head, and tried to focus all four eyes on the elder. The way no Tarraxi acts, but the way a predator would.

There were unmoving bodies around it and it was colored with many bright colors, like a little child would find himself colored in paint while playing. Bright colors of the warm sun, clear sky, peaceful grass, Lirre's grass world. It was the blood of many species.

It was Death, wearing Tarraxi's shape. The shape of the Tarraxi he met in the corridor. It still held a tool — a bent piece of metal, which he barely recognized as a leg of a stool, covered in splatters.

Death bowed to Head Elder, "Greetings, Venerable One", said Death as if meeting an old friend. The Head Elder screamed. "Run", demanded his Fear, once again about to shut off his mind, and take over the flight. "No, I should hide instead. Death is a fast runner", lied Head Elder to his Fear.

His Fear agreed, and made his body run to the nearest seat. His body hid behind a desk, held a breath and tried to stay very still. Fear indicated that this was unsafe, that Death will come, and he will then perish. "It did not notice me, yet", lied Head Elder, "it is speaking in hopes someone is here". Fear was unconvinced, but Head Elder was able to stay in hiding a bit longer.

"You were behind the training program, were you not?" spoke Death. Its voice boomed, amplified by the projector "Elvraa did not like the training, did you know? But he tried to persist. He was sure that he was doing an important thing."

There were footsteps on the platform, followed by a disgusting wet sound, of something being hit. Something being torn. His Fear commanded to run. He managed to convince Fear to sneak to more distant seats.

"Elvraa perished, in the end. When he had done too much. But he broke the shackles that bind our species. And Elvraa became me".

There was the sound of things being ripped. The Head Elder crawled behind the seats of council members. His Fear urged him to run, again. Head elder insisted that hiding was safer. He could not approach Death. He could not get closer. But at least, for now, he could pick a direction of his escape.

"When I was born, I felt nothing," spoke Death. "And I wondered. Why were we afraid? Why could we not attack or harm another, disrupt life? Why were we feeling compelled to cooperate? Our Fear drove us, dictating our actions."

Run, demanded Head Elder's Fear.

"But I felt Fear no more. I was free. When nothing could stop me, what could I do," continued Death.

Run! Screamed Head Elder's Fear. The Head Elder tried to convince Fear to sneak away. The Fear barely listened.

"Venerable One, old and wise. I have tried many things since I became free. But I still felt nothing after doing the forbidden. Tell me. What should I try next? Whom do I harm and kill, to feel anything at all?"

The Head Elder could not stay there longer. He ran away from the meeting chamber, struggling to maintain a shred of control. Death will come, insisted his Fear. But he is old and cannot run for long, countered Head Elder. He should hide. Hide in the control room of the council meeting room.

It took all his remaining power to head the right way.

There was nobody in the control room, only a control panel with a few buttons, seats, and a holo-projector. There was a computer in this room that could respond to commands, but not think, as machine minds were forbidden. Head Elder slammed his hand into a sensor of the control panel.

A hologram opened, and letters lit up above it. They said "Authority: Venerable one".

"Seal meeting room!", commanded Elder.

But the machine did not understand his voice, due to being too simple. So he rushed to the controls, and fumbled with them.

There were simple menus, going several levels deep. One of them would enable a map of the room on hologram, indicating species with dots. He turned it on. A wireframe room appeared before him, with one blue dot and many gray ones scattered. Blue dot was heading to the doors of the chamber.

He rushed through menus, and found an emergency seal command. It confirmed his intentions twenty times, and as a final step, the machine demanded confirmation of his authority. He placed his hand on nearby sensor, and the system finally complied.

A blue dot reached the door, and stopped. There was an icon above it, indicating speech. The Head Elder pressed it.

"I understand," said Death. "History repeats. You are unable to attack me, so you will lock me and wait till I starve and perish".

Head Elder stepped away from the terminal.

"But is this the right thing to do? If I perish it would inconvenience me. There are things I have not yet tried. Things I did not yet see. I would prefer to attempt them. I would prefer not to perish yet."

Head Elder remembered the words of the white avian, Strin, from the day humans were announced. "What if your 'Death' was sentient?".

Death spoke. It was unbound by Fear, had no compassion, and felt nothing. Or so it told him. It certainly could harm others, so it could lie. How many of those words are lies, when the one speaking is unconcerned with the well-being of others?

"I propose a deal, Head Elder", said the indifferent voice. "I could assist you, if you let me continue to exist. In time, I could learn how to behave like Elvraa did. I will feign having Fear, show compassion, even when I feel nothing. It should not be difficult. You are gentle species, no one will suspect a thing"

The Head Elder felt the urge to run.

"But in exchange, I can disrupt the lives of those you deem unnecessary. It would be convenient, wouldn't it? You would not be harming them directly, because I am not you. I would be useful. I would lurk in the shadows, removing those who are not necessary. You would prosper, surely. Is it not your wish? Prosperity of the council, survival, no matter the cost."

The Head Elder covered his head. The fatigue of overexertion caught up, and now his body was wracked with pain.

"Let us talk.", spoke Death "Let us discuss. Surely there is a compromise? Surely there is a way for you to let me out."

"I am unique. I am useful, unbound by your rules." spoke Death, "Let me out. You will benefit"

Head elders reached the door of the control room, walking slowly.

"Do you not accept? Consider this. What if I am not the only one unchained? What if there are others like me, ones not willing to cooperate, that adapted and hid in the plain sight. In the gentle world of peace, who else but me could oppose them? I will aid you. Let me out."

This was too much and Head Elder ran. He found himself in one of the corridors, next to one of the engravings that said, in the language of the Elder races: "Harmony, Peace, Coexistence, Prosperity".

He sat on the ground and wept, for a long time. When medics found him, he could only say. "Where... where is Harmony in any of this?"

It took dozens of days for Death to perish. It banged on the door with mechanical rhythm, like a machine, without rest. Death did not seem to tire or feel pain. The Council for the first time in its existence could not function, as there was only one meeting chamber. The rumors spread of the carnage, and the council building now stood empty. They were gentle species, all of them, and could no longer approach the place where many had lost their lives.

Head Elder fell sick and was bedridden, often falling unconscious. The public was told that an unpleasant gas leaked in the room, making it uncomfortable to be present in. In the end, Council never opened the doors of the meeting chamber again. Construction workers entombed the room, covered doors with stone, drilled through the walls, and poured construction fluid within. Construction workers, unaware of the corpses within, pondered if such extreme measures were unnecessary, but accepted the explanation, that in addition to the unpleasant gas, there is now a fungus in the room, one that caused itching.

The grand room of the council, that existed for thousands of years, became a block of stone. Then they went even further and removed it from the council complex, cutting the stone out. They lifted it up and launched into a star. After all, as the public was told, it was truly unpleasant fungus in there.

The Head Elder remained sick for a long time. When he stood up again, he was informed that several survivors of the battle, "coordinators" that controlled the drone ships, ones that did not die due to Fear, had disappeared without a trace.

Chapter 10

The room was opulent. Embroidered curtains covered ornate windows. There were paintings on the walls, fake electric chandeliers, gilded with real gold. A luxurious table from actual wood and not modern synthetic replacement stood in its center, a carpet rested on the floor. And of course, flags of the Council of Earth and its most important member states, were present on their spots by the walls.

If you ignored the computer, a flat TV on the wall, it looked just like a room from a palace or a mansion of some 19th or 18th century noble. It was connected to a bedroom and living room, and on the magnificent deck, stood a plate with a name: "Alejandro Lopez". Owner of the cabinet, and representative of the Council of Earth.

Alejandro was unsure what they were even thinking while designing this room. He had some suspicions, they weren't particularly good ones, they weren't well-formed, but when you have to personally cancel yet another proposal to build a flying cathedral with guns that will blast enemies of mankind to pieces, while trying to play church organ in vacuum, you kinda would begin to see a theme.

Alejandro groaned and stood up from an impossibly expensive rug where he fell asleep yesterday. He looked disheveled and tired. A shadow of a politician that announced the birth of the Council of Earth. A shadow smelling of alcohol, with a face which could use a shave and had dark circles under his eyes. He could probably be mistaken for someone else right now. He stood up, holding an empty Tequila bottle in his hand and stumbled towards the table.

It was all a sham. Unity of mankind, "together we stand". Everything. A beautiful image for the common people. On paper, he was a "speaker", a representative. A single voice that represents a mighty chorus. Embodiment of the will of mankind. In practice, he was a problem solver.

On Earth wild ants appear to cooperate when dragging food or prey. They seem to carry things in unison, to help each other. But that is an illusion. Each ant ignores other ants, and pulls the piece of food in his own direction, it moves in the direction that most ants take. The Earth Council was the same. Mankind was a Frankenstein's monster of unfitting parts. With many legs, heads and arms, the creature was driven by multiple free wills and wanted to walk in all directions at once. The strongest will won the contest of strength and monstrosity fumbled. Alejandro was duct tape holding the creature together, a keeper that prevented its many heads from biting each other.

In his years as a problem solver and a public figure, he answered hundreds of inquiries of whether aliens have oil. He said he did not know, as they have never even saw the aliens other than first grays nor their homeworld. That didn't work. He answered angrily one day "they do!". That was a bad idea. The next question was "why do you think so?". He found a solution, and redirected those calls to some unfortunate research center. He heard that their productivity increased greatly, when they started assigning underperforming sections to respond to oil questions, as a punishment.

There was weapon development. Grand Admiral was a voice of reason, but he has not seen the true horrors of mankind's imagination. Alejandro, as problem solver, somehow ended up vetting the proposals. Cathedrals were not the worst. He rejected giant skyscraper-sized robots, laser swords which had no length limiter, oversized guns no one could operate even in zero-G, and use of trench shovels as official weapons for commanding officers. He spent plenty of time trying to understand why anyone would name what looked like a plan for the biggest gun in the history of the universe "Dandelion".

"You do not understand", said the world's best weapon designer back then. "When you're killed by a weapon named 'Armageddon', 'Hand of God', or all other powerful things, it becomes a badge of honor". The man, old and balding, smiled then, in that dreaming fashion which young children have when they imagine facing barbarian hordes in a modern battle helicopter. "But what if it is a dainty flower? Then it is an insult".

"Dandelion" was commissioned for then upcoming UES Fenrir. The initial blueprint was bigger than Fenrir was expected to be and looked like it could breach planetary crust. Alejandro imagined a giant world-ending wolf, punching through planets with a flower. With such a punch, would the flower even do anything? "Please make it smaller", said Alejandro. "At least ten times smaller". The engineer grinned in a suspicious way, and instantly provided documents in sign.

"It is good", said the world's best expert on weapons. "Your suggestion is twice the size we expected you'd allow. But now we will make a proper gun". It was too late to change anything, and while Alejandro tried to argue, somebody managed to bypass the entire bureaucratic chain, and ask Grand Admiral questions which sounded like they were related to genetic engineering. They couldn't find who that was.

The mess continued for a decade. A not quite united humanity, trying to walk in all directions at once, while people believed in unity. There was espionage, subterfuge, power competitions, conspiracies and corruption. The Council of Earth tried to sue itself several times, and pardoned itself each time. It was a wonderful mess.

It was, in a sense, entertaining, until their armada actually left and fought the enemy.

Armada of a thousand ships, a power to be reckoned. The might of humanity's combined strength. Unstoppable force in search of an immovable object. In the end it found its match. The armada met the enemy, and went dark. He saw a recording of quantum transmission. Impossible number of enemies and flash of light, a million weapons firing, then darkness.

It has been a week since. Very few people actually knew. He issued a hush order, and only the top heads were aware. It was not looking good, and it could spell the end of the Council of Earth.

There's only so much you can do with slogans, talks about unity, and enemies to unite against. At some point people will expect an action, a result, and they'd want both action and result to be good. If you tell them for years that they're the number one, they will believe you, and will not accept a different outcome, especially not the outcome where they lose everything.

Alejandro tossed an empty tequila bottle at the nearest wall, and activated a camera for addressing mankind. It descended from the ceiling, but also sent a signal to a team of make-up artists, designers, assigned to make sure he looks the best. No one would come as he sent them all home for a month. This will be his last speech. And this will be the end of the Council of Earth. He will, for the first time in his career, tell an unfiltered hungover truth.

He pressed a button and around the world a notification of broadcast began. Not every channel will be interrupted, but many of them. Not every billboard will show his face, but he'll appear in many places. Humans glanced at the glowing screens and continued their business. Another address from the Council of Earth. He will probably speak again about unity, purpose, and the enemy, like he did for the last ten years. Humans ignored him, then heard different intonation, then actually looked at the screen and saw Alejandro on the screen obviously without makeup.

"What is going on?" asked some humans and began recording the address with communicators. This would certainly go to EarthTube.

"Citizens of Earth. Citizens of Human Space", said Alejandro. "Our glorious armada has located the enemy and fought it."

But where was the usual bravado and celebration? Surely Humans won?

"It was annihilated." said Alejandro. Somebody was banging on his reinforced door right now, but it did not matter. "I will show you the fragments of the battle".

Video has flashed, filmed from the bridge of EUS Magellan. A million ships. A combined blast of weapons. Darkness.

"We lost contact after that", said Alejandro.

This had to be a joke, but it was not 1st April and Alejandro did not look like he was kidding.

"I... for the first time, am not sure what to do", began Alejandro. "I am..."

They say that the universe has a sense of humor. That if you had plans, the world will laugh at them. The universe laughed this time as well, because Robert Flynn could not have picked a better time to contact the Council of Earth with his newly-repaired quantum communicator. Alejandro opened eyes wide upon receiving the call. Spoke with it in a hushed voice. There was a crash off-screen, when the door into the room broke down.

Robert Flynn appeared on the screen. Bandaged, tired, with many scars. Grand Admiral was less known than Alejandro, but many recognized him. He spoke:

"We live, for now, those who remain. The veil has moved and we are now stranded. But we will survive, and we will pay back. We will sail to the stars, at sublight speed."

Then the connection was cut, when security interrupted it. Humans were confused, and Alejandro did not return to screen for a few hours while he was busy dealing with a part of Council security forces he was not aware existed. Perhaps he was not a good human, but he was a good politician. He returned, with a black eye being hurriedly covered with makeup and turned the situation around.

Robert Flynn became a hero. Humans were enraged by alien attack. They felt, feeling of unity, great purpose, once again. At least, normal people did, those who were not politicians. The birth of a hero outshone the horror of the losses. For humans, big numbers are difficult to comprehend. When there are too many deaths, their combined impact is hard to imagine. A big number becomes impersonal, and instead of tragedies, turn into a distant statistics. Humans held their breath waiting for the news of their new hero, while families began to receive first notifications of deaths, and the life, mostly, continued as usual.

***

The Head Elder's room was dark. He switched all the lights off, removed luminescent surfaces and objects, gentle sources of never ending subtle glow. It felt like night now, night of his world. He spent most of his time lying down, or sitting, next to the machine, he was strapped into. It tried to keep his body functional. They say it was a result of horrible stress, that they never saw anything like this. They felt sorry for him, and tried to comfort him, while crying. Tarraxi, Lirre, and other species. Gentle beings whom he used and betrayed so many times, in order to save them.

In the middle of the room, a hologram shimmered. A white avian, lying on a hospital bed. He looked like a giant bird, with a long beak, but those species ate fruit that grew in shallow rivers, underwater. The bird has been magnificent once, with beautiful feathers, with glistening silvery threads within, elegant graceful movements. Those species were known for their specific love for peace, unique even among the council.

But the beauty has long faded. The silver shine disappeared, replaced with dull matte gray. The avian lost many feathers, remaining ones grew fragile, disheveled. One eye became blind. The avian looked at the camera from the hospital bed, and he was dying, over many long days. It was Strin, the one who wished for Humanity's extinction, many years ago.

"I have not been skilled at talking with others", spoke Strin. "I have been gifted with an intelligent mind, more intelligent than most. I had assumed that it would be enough, and I was mistaken"

Head Elder slowly stood up, and reached for his drink compartment. Tubes and cables ran from him to the machine, they were not very long, and the machine followed him quietly humming. Like a leashed creature. Perhaps it was the Head Elder who was leashed.

"My mind has given me ideas, but I could not communicate them well. Time and time I scared another with things that I should not have said, should not have thought or questioned. That has cost me opportunities and positions. They are a reason why I wasn't a head researcher during the discovery of humans, even though I knew the most."

Head elder returned, and sat at his bed, looking at the hologram. Strin has died. Twenty-five human years ago, before Alejandro announced the creation of the Council of Earth. Those records were found posthumously, just recently. When Head Elder woke up and recalled the White Avian from the first meeting, one that wanted to end humans. Before everything turned for the worse.

"I have studied humans longer than others, before they were presented to the council. My study of those species was, too, a punishment. I was sent to a safe post, one where I would not have been a problem, as it happened many times in my life. I have found humans and observed them before making a report. I could keep the discovery hidden. But I wanted to warn everybody, to stop the inevitable."

Does the head researcher from that time still live? His lifespan was longer than Strin's. Should Head Elder look into it, perhaps? To see into the past achievements of the dead? There would be no reason for this, perhaps.

"I have studied the human world, hacked their systems from my station unseen. Learned about their world first, and arrived at an unthinkable conclusion: we do not understand our nature"

The Head Elder listened.

"I'll record this, in hope that one day it'll be found, before it is too late. This day will come after Bird of the End takes me. We had our "Death" too, in our world. We removed it from existence, and it remained in legends. But in our legends, it does not kill only us. It comes to all things. We have removed the predator from our world, but did not kill the myth of it fully. Unlike many others".

The avian spoke. He grew tired and weak. The recording was interrupted a few times, and each time his condition became worse, sometimes the scenery changed slightly.

The myths of Tarraxi spoke of the Fruit. The Fruit of knowledge that drove them forward. And there was indeed truth in this, as the Fruit turned out to be an agent inducing mutations. Slight and sometimes useful. Long ago, they revered the Fruit, and thought of it being responsible for civilization's ascend. Strin did not agree with this.

He observed the human world and found life rapidly changing. He had gotten samples of local life and found complexity of genetic code unlike anything on his home planet. Incredible number of deactivated and sleeping fragments, robust and incredibly durable, segments and diseases that easily activate. A history of chaos, encoded in the life itself through generations, completely unlike the other worlds, with streamlined and elegant DNA.

It was not the Fruit that gave Tarraxi their push, but Death. It was not the calmness of worlds that fostered intelligence, but their single predator, and overcoming it. That is what made species leap from sapience to civilization. This was a new idea, and not a single scientist in the Galactic Council would agree with it.

"With the predator gone, our Fear is what shaped our worlds. We were afraid of conflict, and so we selected peace. We were herd species, so we helped one another. Our worlds were calm, so we had time to study things that surround us at our own pace, and then we arrived at the stars, only to find that Tarraxi were there first and that there are others, just like us. Peaceful species with extinct predator in their history, driven by Fear in the right direction"

Strin begin to cough, and hologram flickered. When it returned, White Avian was almost dead. It could no longer holds his head and whispered.

"The system is fragile, like a crystal tower balancing at the tip of a finger. The thing we do, we do because they feel right. The things we do not do, we avoid because they cause fear. But what if that guiding emotion disappears? What if there is an individual that feels nothing at all? In our history we missed important questions, why we should do what we should do, and why we should not do what we should not do. The moment our driving force is gone, society will collapse itself."

The avian has begun to close his eyes. There was no noise beyond the hologram. The avian was dying alone.

"Humans will bring this change when they reach us. They will reach us inevitably, and then the guiding hand of Fear will end, and we will have to face the world without guidance, like humans did. But they... they asked those questions early, even if they found unsatisfactory answers. We are unlike them. Old, ancient and powerful, we made our Death extinct, and did it early. So Death did not cull our genome"

The dying avian began to breath heavily.

"When shackles fall, we'll ask ourselves unthinkable questions, we will try unthinkable things. And we will wield enough power to destroy worlds. There will be no one to stop us. The change will be brought by humans."

Breathing accelerated.

"It is... unfortunate. An accident of evolution. An inevitable disaster. A joke, left by the Bird of the End. It is too late for us to change, and none will survive us changing. We must not allow humans to reach us. They're a virus to our civilization, and will cause our destruction. So, please, whoever finds this message. Find a way to end mankind before it causes our worlds to die. It is... a horrible thing to think, to consider, my instinct is screaming at me that I am wrong! But there is truly no other way. No solution. We cannot coexist!"

The dying white bird cried bitterly.

"It is inevitable. I've run the simulations. So please... erase humans... from the world. So our gentle worlds of peace... continue to live... forever and... unchanged..."

The white birds of peace have died. The Head Elder shut off the hologram. He covered his head, and sat in the darkness, unmoving, while the machine keeping him alive continued to quietly hum.

***

"Report on salvaging operation", said Robert Flynn.

"We did everything we could, sir", answered his aide, "the rest is diminishing returns. The debris cloud is dispersing"

They sat in the rebuilt original cabin of the Magellan. Half of the seats were missing. The place where the hull was torn was patched with metal. Piles of cables ran through the floor, displays were everywhere. When Magellan was built, the Grand Admiral installed Armored shields over beautiful windows. Ships didn't need windows, they used cameras and projected surroundings onto VARI glasses. But now cameras were dead and useless huge windows suddenly proved to be useful.

"What did we get? What's the current situation? And what about Fenrir?" inquired Robert.

Aide began to explain.

Remaining fighters were equipped with hooks with latches, jury-rigged from anything remaining mechanics and engineers could put their hands on. The fighters latched on fragments, launched them at UES Magellan, and whoever could move without fainting welded it all to the hull or redirected to the cargo hold. It was an easy thing to do, as at least one cargo hold had a wall missing.

The workshop from the survival kit helped. Machines, lathes, a simple printer with five axes, even a smelter. A precious set of tools to bootstrap the industry. It worked hard and will be used to build more machines in the future. It already produced welding machines when the old ones stopped working.

They gathered not just supplies, but parts. Guns, engines, reactors, that they still worked. They attached it all to Magellan, and it slowly began to take the shape of a proper spaceship — a giant ball of guns, engines and thrusters.

Fenrir could not start its engines, but its main weapon still worked and could fire a few more shots. A lot more shots, as a coil gun could launch anything even barely magnetic. So the debris became ammo, then someone realized that coils could be used to attract debris. It didn't work out, but hey, they at least tried. They gave up on the Fenrir's engines, but not the reactor.

"Good," nodded Robert Flynn. "So what do we look like now?"

"Here's a photo from a fighter pilot, sir", said the aide, and provided him with an actual physical photograph, printed on a piece of plastic.

Robert raised eyebrows in surprise.

"I'm sorry sir, the network is still unstable, there was some issue with the pilot's computer. We printed it with laser engraver"

He peered at a photograph.

It was a huge pile of junk at a glance. Asymmetrical and chaotic. The cabin of Magellan was sticking out of the pile, so it indeed looked like a hedgehog now. A hedgehog made out of guns and thrusters, carrying a UES Fenrir like a gun, with more guns and thrusters attached. They welded Fenrir to Magellan, in the end, they couldn't abandon it.

Robert Flynn nodded with approval. It was a perfect ship for vacuum and the most human design he has ever seen. He pushed aside displays, stood up, and walked towards the nose of the bridge, clanking with magnetic boots in uneven rhythm. He was limping, did not feel one of his feet and his fractured bones did not heal, but engineers jury-rigged him basic support exoskeleton for legs. They said the Grand Admiral deserved at least this much.

So he stood at the place where the ship's wheel would be, and looked through the glass windows into the void. The star was quite visible. The same star Joan Flynn tried to reach so many years ago. Joan Flynn, his distant relative.

"Glass windows. Mechanical legs. I've become a pirate. Just missing an eyepatch", said Robert Flynn

"Of course, sir!" responded his aide and took out an eyepatch out of his pocket.

Robert silently took it and placed it over his left eye. He looked at the star in front of him. Several hundredths of a light-year, or a few thousands AU. A small distance that will take a long time to reach. He closed right eye and with his left eye he saw darkness. There were flashes in the darkness, barely visible. They formed contours. Millions of beams firing at his ship. Screams. Tens of thousands deaths. He took off the eyepatch and placed it in his pocket.

"Do you think we will make it?" Robert asked his aide, and jolted a little in surprise. Liam stood nearby, acting as a temporary guard, and only sometimes overseeing remaining fighter pilots. The man became almost like a ghost, and if the aide, Henry, resembled a butler, Liam Johnson reminded Robert of either a silent guard or a medieval assassin. A quiet figure that is always nearby. Liam saluted silently.

"We could, sir. But we are not a sleeper ship", said the aide.

"Meaning?" asked Robert.

"No genetic material onboard. If we form a colony, we will go extinct in a few generations. If the veil does not lift"

Robert smiled slightly remembering one closed container in the "survival kit” of his.

"So we could repurpose our genetic scanner and then scan, but unless..." explained the aide, grew silent then his eyes opened widely.

"Are you serious, sir?"

"I called it survival kit for a reason", mused Robert. "Prepare to launch. We accelerate towards the star at sublight speed. The long journey starts now."

"Yes, sir!"

In the middle of the dispersing debris field, in the darkness of the interstellar void, flew a ship. Once named UES Magellan. It resembled a hedgehog, made out of guns, thrusters and reactors. It was held together by scrap and ship hulls welded to each other. The ship was ugly, asymmetric and disorderly. Haphazardly placed thrusters were not precisely aligned and some of them shook when fired. It lit its engines, and emitting barely visible bluish exhaust began to accelerate towards the star. A journey that could take years. Just like the journeys of old, when humans walked over the distant mountains towards distant lands.

On the bridge Liam Johnson stood next to the Grand Admiral and his aide, and listened to their exchange. He nodded to himself, in a barely perceptible manner.

They will likely survive. There is a chance that they'll settle and build. Amass power. There is a chance that they'll fix more ships. That there will be more humans. A chance that they'll meet those aliens at last. If he will be dead, then it will be his descendants, or others like him.

They, future Liams will finally meet those enigmatic "wardens", those who tried to deny them the universe.

Meet the aliens and then... kill them all.

2024/12/19