Under his arms Deepflier carries the world. Under the left, a carbon-reinforced database, storing twelve databanks and more bytes of information than names exist for. Under the right, a bio-container holding seeds, genetic material, and the assembly manual for rebirth. The weight of both presses hard into his nerves but he refuses to put them down, even if only to allow his muscles a short breather. He carries Home. He must not let go.
to-do
* * *
It was only a matter of time before the first shots were fired.
It was a truth nobody wanted to admit, but eventually, as tensions escalated, it became clear that at some point a single light-speed impacter would be fired and in an instant everything would collapse.
The buildup began long before Deepflier had ever left the growth sectors. As civilizations emerged through the Carina–Sagittarius Arm their eyes inevitably turned to the stars, technology advancing and physics being reigned into control. They would launch their satellites, then their orbital stations, then their missile platforms, generation ships, matrioshka brains, colonizer bots, dashing out into the dazzling darkness faster than light. First contacts would come and go, truces and alliances form, more colonies sparking the night skies with lights like embers.
Exploratory probes from the Nilant Semi-Ascended Cluster were the first to encounter the Trove. The probes FTL-hopped into a nebula, dispensed their chrome blobs of nanomachine mining equipment around the nearest planet, and watched as specters encompassing the world vaporized the machines a microsecond after reentry. The next planet over the equipment discovered crystals storing a hundred trapped psionic minds. In the closest star system they found a white hole releasing more energy than a thousand Dyson arrays, planets loaded with impossible minerals orbiting in helixes around dense strands of stellar matter. More and more star systems and structures that barely fit the definition of a star system were found. No matter how deep they went into the Trove the more impossibilities they could discover.
Nilant attempted to lock down on their findings but soon after others stumbled into the Trove on their own. The sheer density of the nebula cocooning the Trove prevented its treasures from being spotted in AI astronomical scans, but once information trickled down communication lines between allied civilizations the knowledge went interstellar.
Across all edges of the nebula were the fireworks displays of a billion starships dropping out of FTL transit. The Trove had to be taken.
The course from there was obvious. Civilizations set up colonies among the Trove's ethereal worlds, expansions would continue until territories overlapped, wars would ignite until treaties had to be formed to prevent complete stellar annihilation. With the exception of outlying colonies, access to Trove was permanently forbidden. For the rest of time, for all of time.
At around this time the One True Alliance discovered a simple planet wrought in dimensional tears, bestowing technology and knowledge to its populace in exchange for mining the tears, the materials found only to be sent to the Alliance. The populace took to the mining in what they called "deep flying."
At around this time Nilant, the Alliance, and the rest sent Von Neumann probes to mold planets into cannons that could lance a star and ignite a hypernova with a single shot. The cannons ringed the Trove. No one sent orders to stop — they built closer to the border.
On an overcast day 1026783 Deep Flyer returned to their hive pillar from a mining expedition and learned that an Alliance military planet in Trove had been destroyed by a light-speed impacter.
The day after, he learned that nine planets were destroyed.
The week after, one hundred.
* * *
« Transit Shuttle One is now departing from Red Zeta to the Zeta-0 Transport Hub in the Sol System. For all entities possessing gravitational and dimensional sensory organs, please prepare for an imminent interdimensional opening event. »
Deepflier's eyes slink from the cavities in his head, dredged out of muddled memories and histories back into Transit Compound Naught-11. Past the window he rests against is a cavern drilled into the walls of Red Zeta, silver arrow of a shuttle held by clamps in front of ring-shaped arrays of dimensional stabilizers. Behind him the arrays are likely firing their lasers at a single pinprick on the cavern wall, energizing a weak spot in reality to the point where it caves in and forms an artificial Way to the Sol System. He doesn't turn to watch.
Artificial light floods the corridor he rests in as his eyes adjust. Shadowed smudges of humans stride down in hushed whispers to one another, black suits holes in the radiance. Along the walls other travelers crouch, or float, or latch to the walls, curling themselves away from the light and what the Foundation may come to tell.
One smudge gains focus. A spherical android, silently levitating towards Deepflier with its bug-like eye aimed to his face. Thin arms place down the tray he put his belongings into.
"Greetings 1026783 Deep Flyer—" the sounds Deepflier vocalized for the rest of his name are played back. "Review of the items you intend to bring into the Sol System has been completed…"
The message the android speaks is tuned out of his mind; he already guessed what it would be after seeing the red stamps on the tray.
"If you wish to appeal this decision you may contact our staff. Expected response time is one week."
"…"
"Do you have any questions?"
Thin cracks run along the database. "Did you dissemble the database and container?"
"Yes. It was a necessary precaution."
One computer panel on the database's side displays a notification:
Warning: Intrusion. I AM Status: Corrupted IN Location: Databank 1 / 2 / 11.
I NEED Action: Data purge. I WAIT.
"Do you have further questions?"
"No."
"The Foundation wishes you a good day."
Silently, it sinks back into the light, focus liquifying and dissipating. Behind is a boom as the dimensional arrays crack into existence and as the shuttle engines engage. He doesn't turn to watch.
* * *
The rain has stopped yet the clouds remain. Cleaning creatures float centimeters above the roads on leathery gas sacks, mouths slurping the bioluminescent bacteria from the puddles. Deepflier steps from the hatch of Transit Compound Naught-11 and it slams shut, opening again as a new traveler enters. The towers and skyscrapers of Red Zeta stretch into the sky. The line to the front of the Compound stretches into the distance.
He needs to find a place to spend the night.
|| On the Rains to Sol || Part 2 »