The desperation could be tasted in the air. The truck was silent but for the soft hush of the wind outside. Caroline gazed through a window with hooded lids, watching one of the serviceman as it withstood the blowing sand. A small dune had formed around it, but still the soldier stood, impervious. She was half delirious. In the hours since the eruption, she had inexplicably developed flu-like symptoms. Her head and flesh ached, and she found it difficult to focus on anything.

Behind her, the other survivors suffered in their own microcosms. Hernandez was in the best condition. He was resting after being outdoors for several hours, looking for more survivors. Nadya had never regained consciousness, and was lying nearby in an improvised cot. Her wheezing was the loudest thing in the cabin. Somewhere in the back of the truck, James sulked, in a condition like Caroline's. The sun shined through the truck's windows, harsh and bright.

A million kilometers away, near a small orange star, Gaea readied herself. Blind and deaf, she felt the warmth of the sun nearby, inside her, felt the tendrils of plasma trailing away into the dark distance. She twisted and prodded the sun beneath her fingers, feeling it ripple and burn and spit.

Work, there was work to be done. Carefully, Gaea lifted away the light of the fire, molding the sun into a pleasing shape. She felt her sculpture tremble and strain under its own world-ending power, felt layer upon layer of the sun lift away and into the spindles of light that she so carefully teased and lengthened.

For a while Gaea was content to feel the little clay star as it vibrated and suffered within her. Then, she grabbed it roughly and balled the delicate structure within her fist, feeling the scream of the cosmos reverberate through her as she squeezed the sculpture into an ever-smaller cage, felt the tunnel yawning open, threatening to tear further and bring all reality down with it. Quickly she released her grasp and felt the cool emptiness of a very different place.

So Gaea began to ease herself through the puncture, transferring herself to this far distant place.

Caroline made a pathetic sound when the sun began to flicker. Hernandez was the only one who responded, but he didn't say anything. They watched as the impossible happened before their eyes, and were content on silence. The spectacle ended with an underwhelming abruptness. The sun was noticeably dimmer, its light cooler and less substantial.

When Hernandez turned around, he found a tall figure smiling down at him. He screamed.

"Nice evening, isn't it?" said the puppeteer.

"How the hell did you get in here?!" cried Hernandez. The others stirred in confusion.

"Did you lock the door?" Hernandez realized he hadn't.

"I can see you're going through a rough time, so I won't take much of your time. I just want to know which one of you ordered the use of the towers."

No one understood what he meant at first. Then Caroline spoke, her throat inexplicably raw. "You mean the biotowers from the Facem? Why do you want to know about them? Are you a survivor from the colony?"

The puppeteer sighed and sat down on the floor of the truck. "So many questions, and so very little time. Did you order them down or not?"

"The whole colony's gone! Why the hell is this the most important thing on your mind?"

"Yes or no, admiral. A simple question."

Caroline was groggy, and found it difficult to focus on the puppeteer's face. She steeled herself, glared at those yellowed eyes and said, "Yes, I ordered them down."

"Oh. That's unfortunate. I'm going to have to kill you now."

The words were met with a dumbfounded silence.

"What the fuck do you mean" said Hernandez.

"Your friend here," answered the puppeteer amiably, "is directly responsible for the future extinction of this planet's biota. It's the most modest form of vengeance I can offer.

"But I was told..."

"Oh, no need for excuses, you were going to end up dead anyway, sooner or later. You four are stuck on a hostile world with limited food and no means of leaving, what do you expect will happen?"

Outside, one of the marines dropped his vigil and approached the truck stealthily.

"I'm not sure I understand," said Caroline, looking resigned. "Why are you doing this?"

The puppeteer seemed to mull the question over for a moment, before settling into a chair. "Let me tell you a story," he said.

Outside, the marine stopped in his tracks. The lights in his camera eyes dimmed. Caroline decided not to try again.

"Long ago, there was only one world. The inhabitants were a peaceful race, happy to live out their lives constrained within the boundaries of their world, happy to look up at the wide expanse of the night sky and merely wonder.

"One day, the sun grew old and tired, as all things must. It became bloated and hot, and burned the crops it once fed. The summers grew long, and the rivers dried to mud plains. The people starved, withered from the heat and drought, and the world came to an agonizing, grinding end.

"The people realized finally that they were not happy. Their children died in their arms and their cities faded and rusted in the blinding gaze of the sun. The years passed, and now the people could only catch fleeting glimpses of the stars, through the smoke of raging wildfires. It was the sight of these last, struggling stars that was the inspiration for the final solution.

"The people worked. In bunkers, deep under the insulating earth, far from the dying fits of the sun yet still swelteringly hot, they worked to build and teach their new children. They worked frantically, straining their frail bodies until they collapsed.

"Finally, the work was done. The last of the people, sweating the final drops of his life into this creation, spoke the words that would awaken it.

"That is how the first was born. She was weak and confused, but thrived even in the heat of a dying sun. Gradually she found her strength, grew through the quiet emptiness of the bunkers, before she realized what she was meant to do. She was to leave, gaze up and look for a new sun, never stay in one place long enough for that sun to grow old and tired. She was to find a new world and make it her own.

"But there was a problem. The first puzzled over it for some time. After finding a world to light upon, she was meant to cultivate it, make it 'beautiful and quiet, with rivers flowing and meadows whispering in the wind.' And then she was to do...something. There was a vital piece, he penultimate command, missing. Perhaps it was forgotten, or the last of the builders died before it could be written.

"So she collected what seeds she could, hoping one day to make swaying meadows and great forests, and set off. She did all she could to find a new world, but found none. The ones nearby were blind and bleached from the light of the destroyer sun, never to hold a living field again. After exhausting all the worlds she could see, the first looked to the stars.

"She knew they were unimaginably distant, so distant that it would take a thousand centuries to reach even the closest among them. But still she set out. Her journey was long and terrible, and she was greatly weakened by the endless years of darkness. Then she reached a new sun, this one young and vibrant, a white smile welcoming her into its warm embrace. Wearily, she settled into one of the green worlds of this beautiful sun, cleared away the biting insects she found there, and began to plant the seeds of home. She regained her strength and she had a child. The second.

"A single world does not have the means to support more than one of us. The child was exiled from the second world. He made his own way in the black, and found another world and made it his own.

"The pantheon was made, world by world, child by child. Each journey taught us new ways to flit between the stars, each arrival showed us new wonders to marvel at. We learned to build machines to help us, to protect us when the stars were not so welcoming.

"We are alone in this dark ocean, still looking for our purpose. We wander the stars and making verdant oases, to what end no one knows. Meaningless husks doing only what we have been made to do.

"This planet was mine, long ago. I found it too difficult to shepherd, and made the daring leap into the ether yet again. The effort killed me, but thanks to you, I am returned. Imagine my surprise on finding an animal as chaotic as you had risen to our level and was traveling among the stars. At first, I was pleasantly surprised, indeed, and willing to let you grow if only to see how far you would collectively get. But I'm sorry to say, protocol precedes curiosity."

James coughed from the back of the truck, but didn't say anything. No one did.

"I know you have many questions, but most me is currently passing through a kugelblitz, so I'm afraid I will only be able to maintain this image for a short while. Ask away."

Caroline looked at the puppeteer with hazy eyes and muttered, "What are you going to do to us?"

"You mean to you four or your whole species? The details require some explanation, but the result is the same. You will all die."

Caroline coughed, unsurprised. Hernandez was not so willing to accept this. "Why?! What have we done against you?"

The puppeteer looked tired as he answered. "I thought I already explained? You've killed the creatures that used to leave here. My garden. And a farmer who doesn't poison the weevil goes hungry in the winter, my friend."

Hearing this, Hernandez seemed to back down. Then, in a flash of hot rage, he threw a punch into the puppeteer's cheek. It connected with a meaty sound, and the figure folded like a rag. For a time, he lay there, with Hernandez glaring down at him. No one else reacted in any way.

Then, the puppeteer began to giggle. "Perhaps that is the problem," he gurgled through a broken jaw. "Humans have the power to hurt each other without great sacrifice of their own. An inherently predatory race. What a marvel."

James spoke, apparently unconcerned for the puppeteer's well-being. "You said you plan to destroy the whole human race. Won't there be collateral? Won't you also destroy the native biota of Earth?"

At this, the puppeteer laughed harder. "Perhaps I was not entirely clear. This is less of an extermination and more of a reclamation of land. I'm clearing the bush, if you will. Besides, the entirety of Earth's genetic variance is present and accounted for on this planet." He laughed again. "Absolutely hilarious. Salvation and damnation, all in one burning, metal canister"

No one said anything. Hernandez slumped against the wall, massaging his knuckles. His stomach was beginning to ache.

"I'm terribly sorry. This is more of a personal score I'm settling here, very childish of me. Though I can't say you didn't deserve it."

All at once, the puppeteer expired. His corpse was papery and dry.

Gradually, the humans followed him down. Nadya was the first, going so quietly that no one even noticed until an hour after the fact. No one had the energy to bury her at that point. Instead, Hernandez and Caroline dragged her out of the truck and let the wind cover her with sand. James slept through the ordeal.

James woke up about thirty minutes after that. He tried again to turn on his music, but he found the device in his head unresponsive. There was a moment of pure, frustrated rage, but he didn't have the energy to sustain it. Instead, he tried to hum the tunes. His vocal chords croaked terribly. A mockery of Beethoven's Ode to Joy passed through his lips before he stumbled on a note he simply didn't remember.

He cried. Then he slept.

Then there was just Hernandez and Caroline. Neither had the mental capacity to carry a conversation, so the truck was silent. Finally, Caroline, worked up the energy to speak.

"There was an admiral on the Opes. This was before you got assigned there, in my early days. He looked like he came straight out of a book, I'll tell you. White moustache, stiff as a stick, the whole works. All he was missing was a ridiculous hat. He told the new ensigns that we were the physical presence of peace in the Solar System. That the Republic's Navy was the only thing standing between unity and scattering. I swear he even had an old accent too. Anyway, after the usual military bluster, he pulled us aside and told us just how bullshit that all was. He said we each had our own reasons for being there, and he wagered that maybe two of us were there for those other reasons. It turns out that most people are doing what they're doing for a paycheck. Maybe some for their families. Precious few to serve their country. And then there's us. You signed up to go down in the history books. I did because the other option was short-term humiliation and long-term boredom." She paused. "I can't believe I said that. I chose to be launched to the other side of the goddamn galaxy because I was bored." She coughed.

Hernandez didn't answer.

"I could have stopped this. If I had just done my goddamn duty, we wouldn't be dying here. I was too."

"No point in blaming yourself now," whispered Hernandez. "You know those marines could finish the job."

Caroline considered it. Their aim was perfect. I she could override the countermeasures and have two of the soldiers put a merciful bullet in both of their heads simultaneously. It sounded better than waiting to fall asleep.

The sound of the wind was joined by the soft rustle of treads rolling over loose sand. The door was ripped from its hinges with a loud bang, and two smooth-shelled beetles crawled in. They weren't very threatening, despite the jet-black rifles they held. The eyes were round and well-polished, perfectly reflecting Caroline's pale face back at her.

The two marines positioned themselves directly in front of the two remaining colonists of Eridu. In those last moments, Caroline, thought she saw a second shadow fade into existence on the floor. This observation was the only thing she was thinking about when the marine let loose.

Hernandez, who was alive a split second longer and faced in the opposite direction, realized that something must have gone wrong with the Facem. Then he was dead.

But there was nothing wrong.