“It took me a while, but I finally found out why all the Demons kept laughing when I called their treacherous gift a red and blue pill!”

- Jannas.

***Outer Rim***

***Ouluk***

“They broke the treaty,” the General comments coolly as he watches the tactical map in his office. It displayed the newest troop movements and judging from my unqualified point of view, it didn't look good for us. So I didn't understand how the general could be so unemotional about it.

I followed him out into the dark void of space, leaving everything behind. My former life, my people, my home. Everything I knew lies now a decade away. Even with our fastest courier-ship, it would take years to go home.

All of that for the vague hope to find the ones who killed the love of my life. The General seemed like someone who could make my dream of revenge a reality! I did everything for him, serving him loyally for decades. And now he simply throws down the towel and gives up?

The tactical map tells a tale of disaster. Territories which were coloured in a safe, comfortable green just weeks ago, are now orange spheres, indicating unsafe space.

Several of the forward resource bases and infant colonies are gone, wiped out.

As I watch, the Gerneral calls up a video of a world as it gets burned by beams of nuclear fire. A large asteroid, almost the size of a small moon is in its orbit. They are taking their time with melting continents and evaporating the seas. I watch in indignation as the Demons perform an act of pure contempt. It would be far simpler and quicker to simply throw an asteroid onto the world and be done with it.

The beams of energy create whirling hurricanes down on the surface, caused by the intense differences in the local temperature. Flashes of lightning do their part to illustrate the artificial storms. The discharges of pure plasma can be clearly seen from orbit.

“They sure like cooking anyone who wasn't fast enough to get off the surface.” Batlin shakes his head in silent dismay, showing it by allowing his facial tentacles to droop slightly. “It's as if they want to make a statement.”

They probably do. Why else would someone burn a planet for the heck of it? If not to show everyone who might be watching that they can do it.

It's not like the humans wouldn't relish in seeing any member of the G.S. burn, just like we did to their homeworld. “Being roasted would fit the situation better,” I correct the general in a sudden fit of annoyance. “Does watching this have any deeper meaning? All you do is pull our forces back, giving space to the enemy!”

He switches off the video and looks at me. “Are you suggesting that I am not fit to be the leader of this crusade?”

A chill runs down my spine at the accusation, and I suddenly remember that doubting the General could quickly turn from insubordination to being construed as betrayal or treachery. The G.S. military organization is one of the strictest in known space, and many soldiers found themselves out in space without their suit because of an ill-considered comment.

I may be angry about the situation, but I shouldn't forget my current position. There is a time and place for switching sides, but not now.

Paddling backwards is the right move here. “Forgive me, Batlin. I just find my emotions rising high at seeing such losses. Weren't we supposed to end the human threat?”

Batlin returns his attention to the map. “Just don't allow your tongue to slide in public, or I may be forced to do something about it.” He sighs. “But you are right. This situation is certainly frustrating. Not only did HQ misjudge the situation when they prepared this crusade, there are also two civilisations who break the bans on forbidden technology. And I have a silent suspicion that both of them are of human origin. Though, I don't understand why they would be fighting each other.”

“It wouldn't be the first time for a civilisation to have several factions,” I mumble, remembering my own people's colourful history. We only united under a single government because we learned that we aren't the only sentient species in the galaxy. Up until then, there were as many factions among my people as stars in the night's sky.

“Be that as it may, it's blatantly obvious what they are trying to do. That's why I am pulling back our forces. A smart leader should choose his battles wisely. It isn't wise to blindly charge ahead when you know from the beginning that your forces are insufficient to defeat both enemies.”

I glare at him and his defeatist attitude.

Batlin ignores me and continues. “Even if we use the weapon, we can't guarantee to catch all the enemy's forces. We have the Cyber boxed in, but the Demons have the freedom to move wherever they please. Given the rate of reproduction of these people, I assume that allowing a single ship to escape would start the whole incident all over again.

“That’s why we have to be patient and wait for a chance to turn things around.” He calls up another video, this one showing a Cyber ship being pounded to dust. “We need to understand the enemy before we act. And for that, we need time.”

***Outer Rim***

***Jannas, Prime Minister, Prip Homeworld***

“Any news on the body?” I ask, hopeful that our scientists managed to glean something useful from the alien creature who committed suicide in our custody. My staff was in a stupefied shock ever since Tex brought us our possible salvation and doom at the same time.

The office is empty except for my most trusted advisor on military matters. It’s recessed near the top of a cliff, lounged above the planet’s capital city. The large window front behind me allows a perfect view of the largest city our kind ever created. It even grew beyond the cliff’s sides and is now invading the dense jungle beyond. Normally, we would never do something like building a city on horizontal ground, but population pressure and the industrial requirements of space-flight made it necessary to utilize the jungle. I still feel bad for the poor sods who are forced to choose a housing in this area.

Beyond the urbanized zone is the untamed jungle, trying to retake what was stolen. The vibrant vegetation has to be fought on a daily basis, and a sizeable department of people is necessary to make sure that streets and buildings aren’t overgrown within weeks. Their only purpose is to cut down or poison the roots which would otherwise undermine the concrete of skyscrapers and topple them over.

It’s not surprising that my people stick to creating artificial cliffs, large enough to make sure that the jungle is unable to affect the foundations and dry enough to give the plant-life no opportunity to grow out of control.

My trusted military advisor shakes his head. “They took the body apart and the only thing they can say is that the creature was a perfect mesh of organic components and nanotechnology. Almost forty percent of the body was metal or components which we have never seen in a natural creature. Like, the eyes are actually a system of optical lenses, far superior to any natural design. The messenger could have probably counted the hairs on our faces one by one from his spot in the cell. Yet it included organic tissue, allowing the whole assembly to grow in a natural manner.”

He shifts around, studying the report in his claws. “Most of the nano-tech inside him went inactive when the messenger died, and we might have to be glad for that. The technology is decades ahead of ours, maybe even centuries. Our biologists and chemists aren’t even sure if the organic part of the body was natural. They think that these artificial intelligences are entirely capable of creating the ‘Grey Goo’ scenario the G.S. is so afraid of.”

“How can the organic part be unnatural?” I ask, as I am not well versed in questions of technology.

He shows me his palms and spreads his fingers, a gesture of being helpless. “I needed to have it explained to me myself, but the scientist analysed the creature’s DNA. It seems like there have to be certain genetic markers in any naturally evolving creature. Genetic material which was of use at some point in the creature’s evolution and became obsolete later on. Dormant information that’s there, but doesn’t have a specific purpose for the living specimen.”

I nod. “I follow you so far.”

“We lack the technology to manipulate DNA, but our people deem themselves capable enough to analyse and understand it, even identifying a purpose for a given sequence. Now, here is the thing. The subject in question doesn’t have any useless markers as far as they can tell. It takes time to analyse DNA and to compare it to known sequences, but up until now, they should have found at least one useless sequence. Instead, the specialists say that it’s all clean code. Purpose only,” my advisor finishes, allowing me to draw my own conclusions, something which I prefer instead of being told what’s the best thing to do.

“It’s a clue that the messenger wasn’t lying. Not definite proof, but a clue. If his body was indeed designed down to the organic parts, then it lends credence to his story. What about the pearl?”

He shakes his head. “The pearl is an enclosed container with nano-tech inside. They put it under a microscope and it’s pretty obvious from the pictures. Without using invasive methods, that’s everything we are going to learn about it. There is no way to tell what the nano-tech might do if it gets loose. Given the scenario the messenger gave us, I think it unwise to allow the scientists to crack it open since we don’t even understand the nano-tech inside the corpse. Cracking the pearl might do nothing, and we simply lose an option to save even a memory of us. Or the messenger might’ve been lying, and that’s what would activate the tech anyway.”

I eye the office desk and note that my preferred pen isn’t aligned perfectly with the edge. Being an orderly person, I correct the offending detail by tapping the pen with the tip of my claw. Noting that some hairs of the fur on my hand turned grey, I click my tongue in dismay. Our people might not know death due to natural ageing, like some animals experience it, but our fur slowly turns grey and eventually completely white. But it’s unlikely for anyone to live that long and not encounter an unfortunate accident. Rumours have it that there are some monks of that kind in a distant temple, who are said to have lived before the advent of machines and science.

“Look at that. All this shit is turning me grey before my time. Why didn’t I step back from the office a century ago when I had the chance?”

“I do not know, sir. It strikes me as especially stupid to serve the people in a function like this one for longer than a decade. Even if one is above all questions, the leader tends to get blamed for anything that’s wrong with society and will get removed sooner or later. The fact that you made it this long just shows that you seem to have the talent.”

I purse my lips. More like having the ruthlessness to do away with anyone who has the ambition to become a rival. But apart from that, I am not happy about the decision I’ll be forced to make.

The G.S. is trying to keep it quiet, but some info leaks out anyway. Little details which can be put together to a bigger picture. Ships which pass through the system – or rather – ships which passed through and return damaged, their silence regarding certain topics, their change in demeanour.

Someone is pressuring them, and their people show signs of anxiety.

The question is: what will they do when whoever is fighting them is about to take away the system with a ‘primitive’ species which the G.S. is ‘supposed’ to ‘protect’. Just to say it with their words. I have a feeling that they won’t like giving the machines anything that could be counted as ‘organic resources’.

It’s not like they didn’t already threaten to burn my world.

I flick the pen off the table.