6 Billion A.D./Hero of the League

Tentative Synopsis: Rigel finally finds Sophiy, who convinces him to play a pivotal role in the League as a new threat emerges.

Scattered Thoughts

"It's Rigel."

"What about him?"

"He's been acting strange lately."

"Strange how?"

"Sad, depressed. Sometimes crazy."

"Oh, that's normal. It's an effect of the virus."

"It affects the brain?"

"It does."

-

"Who are you?" Rigel asked.

"My name's Sophiy."

-

As he reclined on the virtual beach, he picked up his favorite book.

-

Rigel went berserk on the battlefield. Was it the disease or the plant?

-

Did he just see Vespa kiss her? Or was he just seeing things?

-

He heard ten thousand voices booming through his head.

-

Was that a real concept? Or did he just invent it?

-

Dismissing the voices in his head, the sights seen only by him, the false notions, the plant-induced visions, Rigel dove head first into the fray.

-

"Just because they say it's so, doesn't make it so. If ten thousand people said that, it still wouldn't be true."

-

The crowd nodded in agreement.

"So what are we supposed to think?

"We're supposed to think for ourselves. That's what he said."

-

"Thirty people in Section 5 were cured."

"That's because they thought it would work. It's a placebo."

"So why don't we just convince the rest of them to believe it?"

-

In the heat of battle, Rigel closed his eyes, visualizing victory. Among the incoming lasers, he could see clearly. Rigel expertly navigated through the opposing fleets.

-

Sitting among so many of his former sworn enemies, Rigel seemed surprisingly comfortable.

-

Since the League formed as a defensive association against the threat, then worrisome, of invasion, it had become increasingly activist.

-

I am on your side, the Sentience thought.

-

"We think it's an artificial intelligence from the ancients."

"That's one theory," he interjected.

-

The first war put a long dent in the economy. The economy resumed, continued to grow since then. At least, that's what the official League statistics showed.

-

The League organized the event to bring together some of the better racers. A trade fair for members and prospective members of the defense forces. Unbeknownst to the organizers, some enemy agents had registered.

Developments

She looked at the glowing screens in the data center. Same old, same old. Then Vespa glanced at the display in her visor. Activating an overlay, she matched the Order bases in her visor over the map on one of the screens. It suddenly became obvious.

The layout of Order bases appeared in a pattern. Each base was precisely laid out along a spiral. Tracing back the spiral towards its center, she could now infer where there was probably a key base, or a special resource, or something.

Flipping off the screens in the data center, Vespa switched her visor display to local environment mode. A bevvy of information updated constantly as she made her way back to her bunk.

-

The ship also had an animal pen. Here, beasts from different planets had been collected, mostly for study. Some also had practical uses, such as producing molecules for lubricating the ship reactor. Also, some of the crew liked to visit the animals during their time off. There weren't too many other entertainment options onboard.

-

When Vespa woke up, her time sensors indicated that she was running late. Jumping out of her bunk, she threw on her data center uniform, and rushed back to work. When she arrived, her supervisor was in a huff.

"Any ideas where the virus came from?" asked her supervisor.

"I have an inkling," Vespa answered.

"Where?"

"Look at this map," she said, opening her overlays on a large screen.

"Oh, my," said her supervisor.

-

As the years went by, the ship developed. Crew installed a new reactor. The control systems received an overhaul. After two hundred and fifty years, the outer hull was the only part remaining from when the ship launched.

Vespa grew older, too. After overcoming her initial fears of the mission, she gradually became an old hand. She knew the ship data records better than most anyone. She still felt anxious while talking with other crew in person, especially with visors off.

Gar, another worker in the data center, befriended Vespa. Together, they often cracked jokes about the different populations in the planets they flew through. Especially in the backwater planets. Vespa often wondered whether residents even realized that there was a pandemic.

The pandemic had spread like wildfire. It even reached planets and asteroids off the main traffic routes. Some scientists speculated that the virus could survive in a complete vacuum, even though this defied any sane theory.

The ship reached deeper into pandemic territory. At this stage, no ordinary ship would get clearance. The crew went for years on end without seeing any other ships. All personnel had to wear protective gear, even while sleeping.

Experiments conducted onboard, on a mock virus that mimicked the pandemic virus, revealed bizarre behaviors. The virus did indeed seem to survive in a complete vacuum, or a near to a complete vacuum as one could muster on a ship. The scientists felt even more perplexed.

Meanwhile, Order scientists had become vaguely aware of the research. Their own scientists had been taking a different approach, without any results to show. The League worried that their sworn enemies would steal their research, but mitigated this with hope that a cure would become available, or anything at all.

One thousand years after launch, the crew had a massive party. Of course, none of the original crew remained, even as lifespans continued to extend. Still, the new crew shared their genetics, and perhaps more importantly, their mission, with the original crew.

At the party, Vespa got somewhat tipsy on a solution of aldehydes. Rigel, seeing her sway in the reduced gravity, offered her a shoot of Vigerix plenifolum. "This'll calm you down," he said.

"Oh, thanks, I was just feeling spacey," she said vacantly, grabbing the root.

"Listen, there's something I want to tell you," he said.

"What is it?"

"It's something I've wanted to tell you for a long while."

"Go ahead."

"I… I--"

As Rigel stuttered, the music dropped. In its place, a voice filled the room.

"Greetings, crew," the voice said to raucous applause.

"Listen, tell me later," Vespa yelled at Rigel, returning to her aldehyde stupor.

The ship kept going.

-

"We've been at this for hundreds of years, and we still haven't made much headway. In some ways I feel like we've even fallen behind," Rigel said.

"So? Things often take more time than expected," answered Sophiy.

"So, sometimes things don't work out at all the way you expected," said Rigel.

"That's true, too," she said.

-

Vespa shuddered. After spending so much time in the data center, she thought she knew just about everything. But there it was. Staring right back at her. From her own visor.

The virus colony squirmed. It was as though it reacted to her thought. Of course, it didn't actually squirm, because it wasn't actually a virus colony. Only a model of a virus colony, which Vespa had assembled in the data center. Or rather, which Vespa had watched assemble itself. For to develop a virus model is one part creativity to ten or more parts spontaneity.

The virus colony, or technically the virus colony model, reassembled itself. Even after she poured hyperterasic acid -- or technically hyperterasic acid data -- into the model, which theoretically ought to have killed it, the virus colony model survived.

But what made Vespa shudder was something beyond that. For she had already seen dozens of virus models survive the hyperterasic acid test. Instead, she had just watched the colony model reassemble itself into a defensive position before she added the acid data into the model.

Was it smarter than her?

"It must be a mistake in your model," Vespa's supervisor told her sternly.

Vespa sent the virus data to production. There, staff took her colony model, and made it into an actual virus. Of course, this required placing the virus within sealed containers, which met interstellar safety standards. Still, Vespa worried. What if the virus got out? After all, it seemed capable of impossible feats in the data center. Why not in the physical world, too?

"You're worrying too much," Vespa's supervisor told her.

"But it's a real threat!" she said.

"Look, I already told you that you must have made a mistake in your model. Also, you were late again this morning. Why don't you take the rest of the day off?"

"I don't need a break," she said. "I need to feel comfortable that we're not introducing a risk into interstellar space."

"We already are a risk in interstellar space."

"Another risk. We report directly to the League. We can't allow another virus out, especially in this already infected sector."

"How do you know it's another virus? Isn't your theory that this is the culprit?"

"It's only a theory."

"I never want to hear 'it's only a theory."

"It's my theory," Vespa said.

"Well, what do we do with theories?"

"We test them," she grudgingly admitted.

-

"I think it's an excellent idea," Rigel said.

"You do?" Vespa asked.

"Of course! Now we can finally test our remedies."

-

Vespa remained nervous. She woke up at night in a cold sweat.

-

"Oh, great! Now look what you've done!" he screamed.

Their visors both showed it, clear as a starlit day.

Rigel had tested positive. The virus, which Vespa had developed in the data center, which the production department had made into an actual virus, had assured her was safe, had somehow infected Rigel.

-

"I told you it was a bad idea!" she said.

"So? You're the one who went through with it," he contested.

"You're the one who's infected," she answered.

"Thanks for the sympathy," he said sarcastically.

-

The virus showed an unusual shape. Each cell twisted about itself, linking up to three others. The colony formed a bizarre tapestry, winding its way through the container. This shape seemed to cost the virus, as it grew more slowly than other strains. Still, the virus seemed able to survive almost anything.

A technician poured radioactive material into the container, through a one-way valve. At first the virus seemed to break apart, with cells dying. Soon, however, the colony closed off and destroyed the decaying parts, including the radioactive material. It then continued to grow around this scar.

-

"Is it the same as my preexisting infection? Rigel asked nurse.

"We're still not sure," said the nurse.

"How can you not be sure?" asked Rigel. "Can't you run a test?"

"We've run dozens of tests. Every test we have."

"And?"

"And, it looks related, but our technologies can't show the distinction."

"Why not?"

"I won't get into the technical details, but basically these are different strains of virus than anything we've seen before. They grow differently. It makes it harder to see what's going on inside."

Rigel looked forlorn. Still, having this death sentence at least made him realize the positive things in his life. As Rigel reflected on his condition, he appreciated the chance to have done so much in such a short time. Few people had seen as much space as he had.

Rigel also wanted to find a cure, not just for himself, but also for all those other people who got infected -- or were going to. Even if he didn't meet them in person, Rigel liked the feeling of contributing. He wasn't entirely sure why.

The ship cruised ever further. The inhabitants here didn't even know that their asteroids had been cordoned off. As far as they knew, things were normal, other than the deadly infection going around.

On one asteroid, Ternor, three people became infected in one local day. The next local day, five people became infected, The next, fifteen. Panic set in among some people, the hypochondriacs. But most residents of Ternor kept going to work, the same as they would have anyways. Kids on Terner kept on catching the beasts that swam in the liquid mercury pools.

Rigel scrolled through the news on his visor. Nope, still no cure.

It was difficult to get news to the ship at all. The base beamed it out in large chunks, which arrived seemingly randomly. Whenever a chunk of news did arrive, some of the crew raced to view it on their visors. Other crew members didn't bother, either because they figured it was already out of date, or because they just didn't care.

Vespa continued to spend long nights in the data center. Her supervisor remained concerned, but as long as she was also showing up in the morning, however tired, he couldn't stop her.

For days and nights on end, she experimented with different acids, bases, other chemicals, temperatures and lights, even with other virii. Yet, she was unable to defeat this strain.

Transformations

Rigel floated around the zero-g plant chamber.

He liked the silence here. The beauty of the plants.

-

"No!" yelled Morp. "That's insane!"

Rigel smashed the test tube.

-

"But that would be dangerous," said Morp. "As much as we want stronger soldiers, we can't risk the consequences."

Rigel knew vaguely from his recollection that these chemicals were unstable, and could produce a chain reaction with the physical environment. He didn't recall exactly what would happen, but decided not to risk asking Morp and revealing his ignorance.

-

The ship was also equipped with one-g and ten-g plant chambers. Each grew a different set of plants, which were adapted for those gravitational environments. Additional controls ensured adequate supplies of water, fertilizer, and other nutrients.

-

The plants hovered loosely throughout the chamber. Some vines spread throughout large swathes of the volume. Trees grew out in three hundred and sixty degrees, forming spheres that would have looked preposterous on a planetary surface.

"Try this one," he said, handing her a root cutting.

She warily nibbled on the root. "Mm," she said, surprised that it tasted sweet instead of bitter.

"Now look around," he said.

Looking around the zero-g plant chamber, she was even more surprised. Gone were the plants she had seen just moments before. In their place hovered altogether different plants, in bright hues of indigo and turquoise and bright pink and yellow.

"Cool, huh?"

The one-g plant chamber resembled a more normal spaceship module, rather than the huge sphere of the zero-g chamber. As they walked through together, she recognized some plants from her home planet.

In the ten-g plant chamber, huge flat plants sprawled along the floor. The antigrav suits they had donned before entering made them look like space clowns. Still, they were able to walk through the heavy mess with ease.

"This one makes things smell funny," he said, handing her a flower. She sniffed it. "No," he said. "You don't smell it, you chew it. Then everything smells different for around half an hour."

"So all the plants have these funny effects on the body?" she asked.

"No, just some. It's a specialty of mine. I'm a psyschobotanist."

"That's what I thought when we first met," she said."

"No, it's a job title. Like janitor or writer or something."

"Oh," she said.

-

The test tube shattered into ten thousand pieces.

Liquid spilled out into the room.

Air bubbles formed in the liquid.

Where the air bubbles formed, cracks formed in the air. The cracks spread into the walls, floors, and ceilings of the spaceship.

Space itself seemed to break apart.

"Look what you've done!" Vespa screamed angrily at Rigel. He grimaced.

The lines quickly spread beyond the quadrant, out to distant stars. Through vast fields of raw hydrogen.

-

Morp led Rigel and the other prisoners through the hallways.

"Here," he said, "you'll have a chance to swear allegiance to our cause."

Rigel and some of the other prisoners frowned.

"Or," Morp added, "we can execute you. It's your choice."

-

Rigel swallowed his pride. "I swear to abide by the rules and principles of the Order," he repeated.

-

"I understand that you're on of our special guests," Morp said to prisoner Rigel.

Rigel looked on, without saying anything.

"Oh, do be a dear. Tell us why you're here."

A guard prodded Rigel with the butt of his weapon.

-

As Rigel put on the Order uniform, a transformation took place.

-

Vespa looked out the viewport.

Stars. Tens of thousands of stars. And empty space.

"If he doesn't come back, I'm going to get him," she said out loud.

Vespa donned her uniform. It wasn't a League military uniform. It didn't permit her to leave the ship. Still, it gave her a sense of confidence. A sense of mission.

As she walked by the plant chambers, she thought back to when they first met. How he had shown her the different chambers, the different plants. How she had tried some of the plants, and they had made her feel funny. She carried on.

Five minutes after getting to the airlock, she stopped in her tracks. "Oh!" she let out, turning around. Rushing back to the zero-g plant chamber, she jumped up so fast that she almost flew into a wall. Then, regaining her balance, she grabbed a shoot of Permutatix fortis. After biting off a wad, she stuffed the rest into her spacesuit, then went back to the airlock.

Permutatix fortis: This hardy perennial favors non-gravitational environments. With its web of shoots emitting alternating leaves, it makes for an attractive plant. The shoots confer strength and vitality. The leaves are toxic, and are not used.

The Botanist's Book of Craft and Lore

Flying out into the emptiness of space, Vespa looked around in wonder.

Without the shoot of P. fortis, she probably would have passed out in shock. It's difficult for a mind to understand space, while in it. Without the comforts, the references of a planet, an asteroid, or at least a spaceship.

Vespa glanced quickly at her visor display. 1050. She still had time.

As she swam through the short distance of empty space separating the space suit from the scout ships, the thought of death briefly flirted with her mind. Then, burping up a hint of P. fortis, Vespa darted into the scout ship.

The League had stationed these scout ships as emergency escape vessels. However, they proved so nimble that crews during emergency routines took to playing war games with them. From there, it wasn't far to taking on their scout roles, flying through large distances, often near or in enemy territory.

Vespa wasn't trained to fly a scout ship. She wasn't trained to fly at all. Still, with a strong desire for adventure, and a healthy dose of P. fortis, she managed to fake her way through the control panel. Figuring out that the obvious green button was for power, and the lever was for thrust, she jolted away from the parent ship. Instantly, alarms started ringing throughout the parent ship.

"What's going on?!" yelled the captain.

"It's one of our own. She took a scout ship towards the nebula," answered a lieutenant

"She?! Who is she?"

"One of the staff from the data center. Name's Vespa."

"Data center? I thought they were supposed to be boring."

"They were."

"There are always exceptions, I guess."

Vespa cruised towards the Order's front line.

Not knowing where Rigel was, or where she was headed exactly, Vespa darted through more space.

A blip showed up on the radar. The Order technician observed the blip with curiosity as the unknown ship veered ever closer to their side. It wasn't marked as an Order ship, or an ally. Was it an intelligence probe? Was it friend or enemy?

As the effects of the P. fortis faded away, Vespa looked around herself in shock. What was she doing here? Had she lost her mind completely? Here she was, ten thousand megameters away from home territory, in fact nearing enemy territory, in a scout ship. And she wasn't even trained to fly!

Panic set in. Vespa looked around in confusion at the control panel. It didn't make any sense to her. She had no idea how she had even managed to get here, or start the scout ship for that matter.

"Stay calm," she said to herself. Rehearsing some of the lines she vaguely remembered from the data banks, she searched in desperation for anything relevant. "The blue suns of… No. When the gravitational tides come in… Um, no."

After coming up blank, it suddenly hit her. "When in doubt, cast back a fresh root. The Botanist's Book!"

Vermitrius claris. A fuzzy stem yields succulent purple leaves. Grows spherically. The entire plant is known for its ability to reveal scientific truths in geometric shapes. When in doubt, cast back a fresh root.

The Botanist's Book of Craft and Lore

Vespa reached through her pack, digging down until she hit it. A fresh root of V. claris that she had taken from the zero-g plant chamber. Luckily it had survived the journey.

Choking back the bitter root, as pieces of dirt crumbled down her throat, it dawned on Vespa. Here she was, seeking out Rigel, whom she loved. After all those times when he had said that he loved her, and she felt nervous. Now she knew. She loved him, too.

Vespa was on a mission to rescue Rigel. Even if he had turned to the enemy. And she now understood exactly how the controls worked on the scout ship.

Adjusting the wing flaps, throttling up, she zoomed through the megameters. Enemy craft came at her, but she expertly veiled the scout ship. Vespa maneuvered through their ranks undetected, reaching deep into enemy territory.

Vespa burst into the control room. An armed guard confronted her. "Halt! This is an Order ship. You are wearing a League uniform. And not even a League flying uniform. What is going on? Answer now or you will be shot."

Vespa struggled for words. Suddenly her mind went blank. Not at the most opportune time.

"This is your last chance! Answer now or you will be shot."

Vespa blurted out: "I am an Order intelligence agent. I am returning for debriefing. Put away your weapons." She didn't even know where the lie came from.

The guard looked at her in confusion. "Hold on. I need to see your ID on my visor."

She quickly sent a fake to his visor.

-

"These herbs make you happy."

"Then why don't people use them all the time?"

"Because they also make you see strange things, which not everyone likes. It's complex."

"And what about these?"

"Those grasses? They don't look like much. And they make you sad."

"So why does anyone at all use them?"

"Again, it's complex. They taste decent. Also, they kind of let you forget stuff."

"Why would you want to forget stuff?"

"It's… complex."

-

"It's called quintium. Sort of like deuterium or tritium, but with five hydrogens."

"And what's so special about that?"

"Nothing intrinsically. However, with the right techniques, it's quite easy to fuse."

"So?"

"So, you can make enough power to get to the stars."

"Oh."

-

"Where do you get this quintium?"

"We mine it from space."

"Mine it? From space?"

"Yeah. It's extremely rare. Only about a billionth of the universe. There are certain deposits. Among the nebulae. You know that the nebulae are mostly made out of hydrogen, right? Well, some areas contain higher proportions of ⁵H. We have tools and technologies to find those locations, then mine the quintium."

-

Together, Rigel and Vespa walked through the one-g plant chamber.

"What else can your plants do?" she asked.

"Well, let's see. There are plants that make you see colors differently."

"Like, red instead of blue?"

"Yeah, exactly."

"What else?"

"Um. There's this shrub. If you eat the berries, you may die. But if you survive, then you're supposed to be able to levitate. Not sure if it's true."

"Aren't you a psycho-"

"Psychobotanist? I am. But there are things that even we psychobotanists don't know."

She handled the flower delicately. As her fingers slid up and around the petals, a smile brightened her face.

Working Away

The years passed and I was happy. I got to work with Sophiy in the recruitment and media division, a cushy yet respectable job. Though there were occasional deployments to fight some of the minor nuisances of the League like the Mundar, who had recently begun to target some of the outer worlds, and affiliated systems. I got my hands dirty, and actually showed some valor...

...

I eventually made the rank of Colonel. Sophiy planned a grand party. There were guests from the military, and other dignitaries present.

Sophiy looked at me affectionately, “I’m so proud of you!” I know, look at me a military man like my father. A hero I suppose. Sophiy said, what’s wrong, you are a hero. “No I’m not. But if it makes you happy then I’m happy. “Rigel are you doing all this for me?” “What if I am.” If being a soldier will make you love me, the that’s what I’ll be.” “Rigel we talked about this.” Sophiy tell me you love me! “Rigel you know I can’t.” Then I’ll become a general, general supreme, the most famous person there ever was. What will it take. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing you can do.” You’re so cruel. You know how long I searched for you. “Rigel I should go. Enjoy the party, you deserve it. “Go ahead run away like you always do! Run away! Sophiy was gone before I finished my outburst.

The League Versus the Order

Rigel looked on. His visor showed a forecast of how the years would go by. The stars realigning. The planets destroyed. Other planets born. The pandemic spreading.

As far forward as Rigel looked -- ten years, twenty years, a hundred years, five hundred years -- he still did not see a cure. Rigel asked his visor to show space in infrared. Different stars, planets, organisms lit up. However, he still did not see an end to the pandemic.

"What's on your mind?"

Who said that? Rigel looked around. There she was, looking as appealing as ever. Yet Vespa did not elicit the same feelings in Rigel as another woman had.

-

In secret meetings, members of the Order put forth plans for the next stage. These plans had developed over the eons. Of course, the surviving Order members hadn't started these plans, hadn't even lived then. But the strains of ancient ideas whirled through the revolutionary plotting.

The Order had nearly died out during the last Dark Period. They were not entirely innocent of producing said Dark Period. However, the demise of thousands of stars nearly wiped out the Order, instead of providing the superfuel that they had planned. Now they would need a different approach.

The Order had no official history. It couldn't. For the Order had survived, somehow, through so many episodes that destroyed history as a practice, that no one could write a history of the Order.

Legend had it that the Order was founded by a small group of organisms on a not-too-populated planet. After struggling in obscurity for years -- nearly until the death of its founders -- the Order slowly started to gain adherents.

Once it had legs, it grew wings. The Order flew to other nearby planets, to their moons, to asteroids. The Order became particularly popular in the free-floating space habitats that orbited around stars. These habitats often had economies focused on harvesting solar power. They used some to fuel themselves, and sold the rest to residents of starlight-deprived planets and asteroids.

However, as populations spread ever farther away from their central stars, the cost of transmitting the stellar power became increasingly high. So the Order, along with other starlight harvesters, started looking for alternatives.

The Order, unlike many of the other harvesters, had no qualms about dangerous technologies. At this stage, the Order separated itself yet farther from mainstream societies. By using portable fission generators, they managed to rack up serious sales figures, while earning the enmity of competitors and security activists.

After the first nuclear accident, the Order became particularly notorious. News stories portrayed the Order as a nefarious group of amoral profiteers. In some senses they were. However, a subtle strain of morality ran through the Order, contrary to the mainstream.

Despite increasing regulations, the Order continued to sell fission power. When this became outright illegal, the Order descended into an underground organization. They continued to provide fission power, bootlegging it at enormous profit, and risk. The nuclear accidents multiplied.

If there were a history of the Order, it would show a break here. However, there was no history of the Order, and at this stage there was no history, period. For one of the Order's better clients, a fledgling empire whose name is nowhere recorded, launched the first serious nuclear offensive. Over a thousand nuclear explosives rained down on planets and asteroids throughout the stellar system. Every large space settlement in the known region was destroyed. Response nuclear weapons also destroyed the empire, which the latter had accepted as a price to pay for their perceived victory against evil.

History itself stopped here, for historians all died in the nuclear war. However, some of the seed banks, from the Order and from the planets and from the asteroids, managed to launch their payloads in time. Over the ensuing centuries of silence, robotic and biological systems unfolded fresh copies of their programs. Growing at first slowly, then rapidly once they could feed on the remnants of the war, these seedlings redeveloped into functioning societies. History was reborn.

Such cycles of death and rebirth took place at intervals. Often, the Order had some part in these deaths. As the Order outlived numerous generations of historians, it took on a mythical stature. Yet the Order remained quite real, with its undercurrent of bizarre moralism driving various far-fetched technological schemes.

-

Jemiad shot an accusing look over the table. "It is a reliable plan. We can engineer reactors that make ⁵H even more efficient than the alternatives."

"In theory," said Oriyat defensively.

"It's a proven theory," Jemiad answered.

"Proven in the lab."

"Still, proven."

"A proven theory is a long way from an efficiently working application," said Oriyat.

The engineers mulled over the plans.

"We can squeeze some more juice out of these hydrogen clouds," one engineer said.

"We're already running low on harvesters. The hydrogen's too sparse," said another.

"Don't forget, we're dealing with ⁵H. Even a few molecules are enough to fuse, feeding a planet for a day."

-

The Order kept on planning. How would they make money? Yet, beyond money, they also wanted to spread an idea. Their idea, the Order, explained in their view how stars and planets came to form. Then, by logical necessity, this space collapsed back to nothing. Perhaps not coincidentally, this society had a hand in numerous star collapses. Some thinkers argue that one can only act according to one's worldview.

The Order had many opponents. Even after numerous collapses and redevelopments, the Order remained unpopular with the crowds. Also, some groups had sworn to defeat the Order. For example, the League had formed with the express purpose of combating what they considered irresponsible Order risk-taking. And many oscillations of Dark Periods and Light Periods before the League was born, countless other groups had taken comparable positions.

After the most recent Dark Period, a mere thousand years ago, society came out of the gates slowly. Most of the previous technologies had been lost. A few important scientific ideas had been programmed into the seeds. For example, every organism coming out of the seed banks came from stock designed to have knowledge of the force-mass-acceleration relationship, the hydrogen line, and certain other key facts. From these, the smarter societies could redevelop basic transportation and communication technologies, such as interplanetary craft.

On this occasion, the Order came out stronger than average. Billions of years before, the Order had managed to funnel some of their fission profits into advanced reseeding technologies. The Order had used these technologies to ensure a solid likelihood of being among those populations reborn after a collapse. Other populations often considered this cheating. The League definitely considered this cheating.

The League started as an attempt to enforce a sort of anti-Order. Some activists had become concerned by the growing power of the Order. Out of the gate, the Order had seemed to grow faster than the other populations combined. Nobody was quite sure why -- not even the Order themselves -- but somehow the secret society had become disproportionately strong.

The activists held secret meetings of their own. In intra-asteroidal caverns, people speaking a multitude of different languages gathered. There, they exchanged views and information, becoming increasingly agitated. At one meeting, a confederation of representatives announced the formation of a league to fight unfair Order practices.

When the Order became aware of the League, at first they laughed. Then they took offense.

"We should destroy this association before it becomes a serious threat," said Jemiad at a secret meeting. All present agreed.

The Order sent out various attacks against the League. They started with radiation poisonings of suspected League members. However, the League continued to grow. So the Order had targeted killings of League members. The League responded by forming a defense council, and establishing protective positions throughout regions of space that they controlled.

The League forbade discussion of cyclical history in regions under their control. Instead, they only permitted conventional history, in which the universe, as with all of its constituent parts, gradually unwound. Given enough time, it would dissipate, not coming back.

Some people in League territory took the view, mildly unconventional, that a smarter population could outwit this death and decay, but only for a few billion years, perhaps a trillion years. However, even this position was viewed suspiciously in the more upstanding segments of League society.

As more centuries went by, the League grew into a formidable foe for the Order. Of course, the Order had faced far more formidable foes before, and now had the upper hand from the get-go. Yet, the threat was serious enough for the Order to hold more secret meetings, develop more weapons, and continue funding cyclic propaganda.

-

Rigel worked on the plants some more. He gave special consideration to some of his preferred species, such as Girolomus sphyntus, often talking to his plants.

More Stars

Rigel looked out into space.

He could see the stars blinking. From space, they seemed far brighter.

A blue arc swept across Rigel's visor. He recognized it as a phenomenon that one only sees from outside of planetary atmospheres. Unfiltered starlight occasionally refracts around an intervening galaxy, resulting in the gorgeous effect. Starswipe.

-

The Order had their hand in it, of course. Their fingerprints were all over the place. How else could so many planets have popped up with just the right mix of hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen, and carbon?

-

Another planet that he liked. As Rigel swept down onto the surface, he instantly took a liking. Something about the topography jumped out at him. People had tastes in planets, and Rigel found a match here.

-

As Rigel got out of his spacecraft, he walked through the winding paths. First, he left the space terminal. Glowing lights guided him towards a commercial district. Then, following his heart, Rigel expertly made his way through zones large and small. Along his route, thousands of locals and other foreigners mixed. This was a busy planet.

-

Rigel got out his hand weapon, palming it invisibly. Best to be prepared.

-

Some planets had a reputation for problems. Especially the planets popular with visitors. If someone disappeared on a remote planet, there wasn't much anyone could do about it.

-

Scanning the wide walkway, Rigel continued through the glassy terrain.

-

Visors trained on him, Rigel thought. One can sense the reflection of ambient lighting off visors, subconsciously. Even without noticing, Rigel adjusted his path into a slightly zigzagging trajectory.

-

What was he even there to do? Most of the people he could see had missions assigned to them. Rigel had arrived on the planetary surface without a mission from anyone. Only his own plan.

-

"Where are you?"

The voiced spoke through Rigel's headset.

"I'm on Vordon," Rigel answered.

"Where's that?"

"It's a small planet, around Beta Hatori."

"Anyone there?"

"Not really," he lied, as we watched a small gathering on the other side of the room.

"Listen, I want to meet you. Is it safe there?"

"It's--" Rigel paused to think of the right word. "It's average."

"I'm coming down."

-

People continued to pour into the room. It seemed that an event was taking place soon.

"Say," said Rigel to a person who had stood there since before it became busy. "What's going on here?"

The stranger cast Rigel a suspicious glance. "Who wants to know?"

"Name's Rigel. I'm from Yarasil."

"A mainplaner, eh?" said the stranger.

"I'm not like the others," Rigel answered.

"There's a gathering here. It's not confidential or anything. But most everyone here has some type of association. If you're not associated, you're probably going to feel pressure. Maybe there'll be trouble."

"Trouble?" asked Rigel. "What kind?"

"Oh, nothing serious," said the stranger, unconvincingly. "But you'd better watch out.

-

The speaker strode onto stage. Alongside him flanked armed guards, wearing not so much uniforms or even suits but rather mismatched pieces of fighting equipment.

The gathered crowds quieted their conversations, attention turning to the speaker. As the room grew quiet, the speaker addressed the audience.

"Friends, allies, uh, and strangers, we have some important news."

Rigel squirmed somewhat.

"I have here," and saying this, the speaker pulled out a package. "I have here a surprise."

The crowd murmured.

The package glowed. Rigel wondered if it was radioactive.

"In this box," continued the speaker, "we can see the first instance of the species Tratorus vixifori."

Startled sounds erupted from the audience. Rigel didn't understand the significance of the species.

"This virus," announced the speaker, "has the power to change our trajectory!"

Rigel looked around to locate the nearest exit.

"Hey, is now a good time?" the voice in Rigel's ear asked. Amid the confusion, he hardly realized that it was his own headset. Suddenly, strong grips wrapped around his arms. Rigel tried to bolt for a door, but the grips prevented him. Instead, they lifted him up onto the stage.

Part of the crowd was rushing onto the stage, lifting Rigel along with them. They moved hurriedly towards the speaker, specifically towards his box containing the virus. As the crowd rushed the stage, the armed guards pushed back, fighting to restrain them.

Pushed up from behind, Rigel could see the weaponry on the guards. While not particularly recent, these arms still instilled enough fear in Rigel. Amid all the hands and legs pushing against him, Rigel couldn't feel whether his own weaponry remained in place.

-

Thyroxus granulis: This tree grows narrow and strong, to a height of 10 m in one g. The wood has an aroma reminiscent of the volcanic ash on the planet Terberon. Resins are used to treat wounds, and as an aphrodisiac. The sap is also rumored to destroy certain viral infections when taken as a tea.

The Botanist's Book of Craft and Lore

-

Rigel sipped the tea. It had a bitter, nasty flavor. He had hoped he would like the flavor. These things are subjective. Yet, Rigel had to agree with the Book.

-

While long familiar with Thyroxus species, Rigel hadn't thought of trying the tea until now. He had chalked it up as an old wives' tale. While Rigel did believe that plants had numerous powers, and he often agreed with the Botanist's Book, he considered the authors of the latter somewhat soft-headed. Had he been an editor, Rigel probably would have trimmed some passages. Still, he was growing desperate in his bid to defeat his life-threatening infection. So Rigel brewed the tea.

-

"Are you feeling any better?"

-

Reversals

Rigel looked back at the holographic recording. Seeing himself struggling against those imaginary restraints -- many of which had been thrust upon him by chance or the actions of others -- Rigel took on a new resolve. - The stars spread ever farther apart. The distances grew, such that stars that once sat near enough to see each other's hues could no longer even detect one another. - "Our model indicates that we should be seeing a collapse soon."

"A collapse?"

"Yes, the universe is scheduled to retreat. To reverse directions."

"Explain."

"The universe goes through cycles, as we understand it. First it grows, then it collapses. It's been growing for billions of years. Now it's scheduled for its next collapse."

"Isn't that preposterously unlikely?"

"Why?"

"Because that must be just once every billions of years, like you said. Shouldn't we be somewhere in the middle?"

"Well, someone has to be there around the reversal. Why not us?"

"Because of the statistics."

"Statistics, shmatistics. It could happen."

"'It could happen?' that doesn't sound like a scientist to me."

"Scientists don't have to sound like your stereotypes, you know."

-

"Why can't it just keep expanding indefinitely?"

"It can. That's another theory."

"So who's to say that you're right and that theory is wrong?"

"It's not me, it's the math."

"What math?"

Here, he sent a visualization to their visors. The immensely complex graph showed twisting curves.

"What is that thing?"

"It's our universe."

"I don't get it."

"This is a mathematical model of the universe. It shows exactly where, when, and how every particle is supposed to go, from the last collapse until the next one."

"The next one?"

"The upcoming come."

-

Rigel looked Vespa in the eye. She glanced away.

"Where you get this stuff?" he asked her.

"It's not my fault that you're sick," she said.

"Still, you could be more sympathetic."

-

"It doesn't matter if their theories show a bouncing universe."

"A bouncing universe?"

"Yes, one that grows and then collapses."

"And why doesn't that matter?"

"Because their theories are wrong. Otherwise we would join forces with them."

"So you're saying that the universe isn't going to collapse?"

"Right."

"Then what's it going to do?"

"We don't know for sure. But we think that the universe just keeps on growing."

"How can it keep on growing? Won't everything in it dissipate?"

"It doesn't work like that. There's no end stage. It just gets thinner."

"Hm."

"It's not just theoretical. We may be able to build ships that travel faster, as the universe gets thinner."

-

Remembering many of his old friends, mortals, no longer here, Rigel was sad.