6 Billion A.D./The Order Attacks
Tentative Synopsis: War looms as the Order sets out to unleash havoc on the galaxy.
Negotiations
"Drink this," he said.
Gulp.
"Now you're immortal."
"What?!"
"Just kidding. We have to process it into an oxide first. But it tastes bitter, doesn't it?"
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The parties sat down on opposite sides of the table. On each side, behind reflective visors, serious faces looked out at the other side. They stared each other down. Each side had come ready to negotiate. Both sides feared the other.
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Seeing so much space, she grimaced; he smiled.
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In one of the seedier parts of the system, some of the lesser populations met.
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Long lines of identical solutions poured out. Equal amounts dispensed into each tube. The workers examined the data sheets. Looked right.
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"You have one of our agents," said Morp, a representative sitting near the center of the chemists.
"That's what you alleged before," replied Vespa.
Morp choked back a harsh laugh. "We have traces. We want her back."
Vespa ignored the comment. "Your idiotic application of strengthening compounds has leaked throughout the inner star system. We want this cleaned up."
Data swept through the room. As the representatives from both sides considered the deal, sub-clauses were added and removed. Instantly the updated deal propagated to the different representatives' visors.
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"It's a violation! We can have you arrested."
"You know as well as we do that half the judges use it as well. You'll get laughed out of court."
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Vespa leaned over to Rigel.
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Rigel looked in the mirror. Is this what he wanted?
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"Ah, so the MONDians were right!" he exclaimed.
"What's that?" she asked.
"Just an old joke."
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The laws had become confused when society spread out into space. Now, several different legal systems applied to different populations -- or at least thought they did. Most people had no idea what laws if any applied to them. The Thraxans even parlayed this into a profitable enterprise, producing custom laws for anyone who had a dispute.
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Both sides agreed to the deal. Visors instantly reflected the agreement, which was also sent back to the political and military headquarters of each side. Morp shook Vespa's hand. She pulled it back in pain.
"If she is not returned within twenty orbits, we will start executing prisoners."
Vespa turned around, walking away fast. The rest of her side swept alongside her.
-
Morp walked briskly through the rows of identical lab benches. He seemed to have a different air here than at the negotiating table.
"Doctor Morp, the solution has precipitated. It confirms your theory," said a young chemical technician to Morp. Nodding curtly, he kept on walking.
-
Vespa paced nervously. "If they continue this madness, our entire star system will soon be spoilt."
"Like the star they came from," said Tuner.
"We have to find a way to stop them."
"But how?"
Return of the Order
Rigel felt comfortable in the Order uniform. Somehow, it seemed to fit him.
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No one was entirely sure, even within the Order, how the Order managed to survive so many collapses.
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"We think they're trying to arrange another large collapse."
"Why would the Order do that?"
"5H is only known to be produced in the explosions following such a collapse. Their society depends on it."
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Suffering from the denial of his romantic interest, and his unfixable infection, Rigel wept.
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"I can't take this any longer," he said. "I have to do something. Anything. Maybe the Order is onto something. Maybe they're our only hope."
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"You look fine in that uniform," Morp said to Rigel.
"Thank you, sir," Rigel replied, saluting.
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Morp strode through the ranks. Rigel, along with thousands of other troops, stood firmly, weapons at the ready. The inspection went without a hitch.
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"As new enlistees in the Order of Defenders of the Core, your mission is a noble one," boomed Morp at the troops. "You will attack weakness wherever you find it. You will destroy overconfidence. You will harrass the enemy. You will win!"
On the last line, the troops broke out in wild cheers.
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Rigel's unit was sent to the front. Together with other Order troops, Rigel packed his weapon, his meals, and his other equipment. They boarded the troop transporter. As the lights dimmed, a quiet descended on the troops.
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"Are you scared?"
"Huh?" said Rigel.
Another Order soldier was looking at him, with fearful eyes.
"I didn't really want to be here," said the scared soldier. "I thought I would enlist for the pay, but not be sent to the front."
"Oh," said Rigel dejectedly.
"You don't seem scared," said the soldier.
Rigel looked off to the distance. He thought of Sophiy. He thought of his infection.
"Why don't you say anything?" asked the other soldier.
"Look," said Rigel. "I'm scared, We're all scared. It's normal. We're on the front line." He hoped the other soldier would leave him alone.
"Do you-- Do you have anyone back home?" asked the soldier.
Rigel blanched. "I-- Look, just leave me alone."
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"Another star went out."
"How did another star go out?!" yelled the commanding officer. "Stars don't just disappear."
"We're looking into it."
"Looking into it? A star randomly disappears, and you're looking into it?!"
"We think the Order is behind this."
"Of course the Order is behind this!"
"We have traces of their ships in the region just before the disappearance."
"Well, go and track down those ships!"
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At a meeting of the League's top officers, the main topic was the ongoing series of star disappearances. Also, there was concern mentioned about the increasing number of troop defections.
"Why are our soldiers deserting us?" asked a general. "Aren't we providing them better housing, better pay, a better mission?"
Another general chimed in. "And now of all times! When the universe is going haywire. Why, the Order is probably laughing at us! Shouldn't our soldiers be less likely now to desert?"
A political representative of the League spoke up. "These are important issues. We need your skills to resolve them. We still have a strong League, but it's at risk. Now more than ever, we need to defend our interests, if we are to survive."
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The League developed new armaments that were more modern, and better able to target the Order combat ships that had become increasingly common. The League restructured its military, releasing numerous peripheral units from duty, and upgrading the remaining units. The entire League was overhauled, becoming almost unrecognizable. It was much smaller than the previous iteration of the League. A lean fighting machine, the military and political leadership hoped.
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In occasional skirmishes along the front line, Order ships continued to outflank the League. Losses were mounting, in spite of the efforts of the League. Civilians became concerned, as media portrayed a growing threat of collapse.
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"In other news, three more League battalions were defeated," said the newscaster. "This marks the worst toll for the League since the commencement of hostilities. An Order spokesperson declared the victory another step towards collapse. Observers have expressed concern."
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Rigel's infection worsened. While he had become biologically immortal, able to regenerate his cells indefinitely, those same cells remained subject to diseases, mechanical attacks, and other susceptibilities. Rigel's body weakened under the strain of the virus. Beneath his uniform, his skin developed lesions. Rigel hoped they wouldn't spread to his face, where they would be seen by other soldiers, and he would be ejected to a certain death in space.
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"The pandemic is spreading deeper into Order regions."
"At least there's some good news," he responded darkly.
"They probably want that, judging by their collapsist policies."
"They're not totally insane."
"I'm not so sure."
-
Rigel piloted the ship at his former allies. After his betrayal, he still retained fighting skills.
"You're flying well, soldier," said his commanding officer.
Rigel kept steering, with grim determination.
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Stars kept disappearing. One after another, in growing sweeps of space. Entire parsecs went dark.
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Now Vespa had contracted the virus. Panic set in. "What am I to do?!" she asked herself, rummaging quickly through the data banks.
She pulled up the info on the virus. Still no cure. Still no substantial understanding. A mysterious virus that had somehow swept through space, destroying entire civilizations. And now she was infected.
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The Order racked up more sizable wins against the bolstered League. Panic went rampant, even among League generals. Was this the end of the League?
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While off-duty, when he was supposed to be sleeping in his bunk, Rigel pulled up his communicator on his visor. Unable to stop thinking of her, he got ready to initiate a session.
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Sophiy sat up in her bed.
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Morp laughed. A loud, violent laugh. The small battle being waged among the images in his visor represented the larger battle being waged out in space. Much havoc was being wrought. And his side was winning.
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Finally, a crack in the case.
"The virus seems to respond to this," she said, half-hopefully.
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The next night, Rigel wept in his bunk.
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Another soldier, seeing him, said: "Don't let it get to you. When you let your fear win, you let the enemy win."
Rigel, who already had two death sentences, one viral and one emotional, did not fear the war. He ignored the other soldier.
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The Order triumphantly announced another round of victories. "We are now wiping out the remaining traces of the enemy," said a spokesperson. "Soon we will restore the dominance of our rightful leadership. There is no room for traitors."
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Rigel's infection spread yet further. One of his lesions had just begun showing on his neck, outside of where his uniform covered. He took to wearing his uniform uncomfortably high, arousing bemusement if not suspicion among his fellow soldiers.
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"What's with that style? I don't think it's regulation," said one soldier.
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As the strains on the different populated planets tore them apart, the strains on Rigel's body and mind tore him apart.
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The pandemic spread yet further. Giant tracking screens in the epidemiology center showed the virus having covered 95% of the observed region. The death toll statistics, constantly updating, grew into the quadrillions.
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"This is the worst pandemic we've ever seen," said the epidemiology center representative.
"Is there any end in sight?" asked the newscaster.
"Unfortunately, no. We are still far from the worst of it."
The newscaster looked grim.
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Rigel thought back to his earlier days, tending the plants on a League ship. They had not found any cure for the disease. He now realized that they wouldn't have found any cure, couldn't have.
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- Horgrodus paxiforum: Grows wild on the shores of planets in the Horse Nebula. Induces a sense of calm. Often used to comfort thte dying.
- The Botanist's Book of Craft and Lore
Looming Disaster
"Those fools don't even understand that the collapse is happening anyways. We're just speeding it along."
"Why speed it along?"
"It suits our purposes."
"How does it suit your purposes?" the journalist asked.
"The collapse benefits us. Unlike those fools, we understand that it's happening anyways. So we may as well benefit from it. We have long since designed our society around the upcoming collapse. Long since. It's part of a cycle. It would be foolish for anyone not to expect it."
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Dr. Morp paced in front of the assembled audience. "Our theories show that these cycles of growth and collapse occur regularly. We extrapolate that out, and pace our society around it."
The group of students, visiting scientists, and military staff listened attentively.
"We foresee a major collapse occurring within the next millennium. By certain actions, we think that we can move it forward to within the next five hundred or so years," Morp continued.
The holographic visualization in front of the crowd zoomed in on a few particles. "These are hydrogen, in the horse nebula. As you can see, most are ordinary hydrogen -- one proton, no neutrons."
The visualization zoomed in further. "If we look more closely, however we can see that a small number do have neutrons. These are called deuterium, or 2H. Quite rare, only produced during collapses."
The visualization continued to zoom in yet further. At each level of detail, Morp pointed out the small number of increasingly heavy hydrogen variants: 3H, 4H, 5H.
"As you can see," he said. "There are so few 5H as to make them practically useless. Except that they happen to fuse so easily that am imbecile could fuel a civilization for ten thousand years."
The crowd struggled to process the information.
"I repeat: these hydrogens are only produced during collapses. Therefore it is in our interests, in the interests of civilization, for us to hurry up this collapse. So that we can generate more 5H, and feed our communities for the next eon. Anything else would harm the long-term interests of sentient species. Only a short-sighted fool would oppose the collapse."
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The League leadership met again. In desperation, they leafed through thousands of screens on their visors, searching for any hint. What was the Order up to? Was there any way to stop their utter destruction of the League? Technical information, legal information, any information, it was all fair game.
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Rigel listened attentively. He had stored a copy of Morp's presentation, and was now rewatching it on his visor, for the tenth time.
Since signing up for the Order, Rigel had progressed. From his early period of supervision, as a recruit from the opposing side, Rigel had quickly proven his worth to the Order. Despite his frequent bouts of melancholy, Rigel had a determination that many soldiers lacked, even among the longest-serving Order members.
For Rigel, it was personal. He hadn't signed up because of any longstanding commitment to Order philosophy. Rather, he viewed it as a last-ditch attempt to save himself.
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"How are you feeling today?" Morp asked. He had taken a personal interest in Rigel since the beginning. Not quite a liking, as Morp found Rigel sentimental and irrational. However, it didn't take much effort or acumen to see Rigel's uncommon dedication, and capacity.
Rigel squirmed slightly, involuntarily. Morp had long made him feel uncomfortable. "I'm fine, Doctor."
"I understand you've been watching my Cycle speech. I'm flattered. It was one of my finer presentations, you know."
"You make some interesting arguments," said Rigel. "But isn't there some way that we can contribute to society without the collapse? It seems so needlessly -- destructive."
Morp chuckled. "Many of my first-year students ask the same thing. You would make quite a student, if you weren't already a soldier, you know. But the answer is no, there isn't any easier way. Either you can save your civilization, or you can prevent the collapse. Oh yes, I know all about the propaganda put out by that old, nasty affiliation of yours. They're on the run, now, which should tell you something about how valid their arguments are."
"Might doesn't always make right," said Rigel, surprisingly frankly.
Morp looked at him suspiciously. "You're not turning back to that, now are you? You should know that the punishment for treason remains execution."
"That's not what I was saying," said Rigel, but Morp was already standing up and leaving.
-
As the years went by, the expected collapse approaching, the League deteriorated further. Many of their adherents departed. Their infrastructure, despite expensive attempts to protect it, rotted. Their ability to fight at all soon became questionable.
The remaining members of the League frantically retreated. In small regions, traditional strongholds, they had secret meetings. Each meeting now occasioned doubts about whether the Order had spies present. On some occasions, accusations of being an Order spy even broke out into the open.
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The panel of Order scientist-politicians, military personnel, and others addressed the media. "This is an unprecedented development," said one speaker. "We are saying that this reaction can be multiplied effortlessly. It leads to some powerful possibilities."
"No," said another speaker in response to a question. "This isn't a perpetual motion machine. It's a reaction that produces far more energy than it requires to start, but using available resources from the environment."
"We're not at liberty to discuss the technical details of the reaction," said another scientist-politician. "There are security issues involved. But we're confident in the science."
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Sophiy cringed.
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Among the other captives, Vespa stood still, listening to the verdict. Of course, she already knew the verdict.
"All prisoners present are found guilty of all charges. The penalty of execution shall be rendered within the next local day. Which, here, is twenty standard hours." The judge stamped the gavel, and signaled for the next batch of prisoners to be brought in.
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Harvey, the psychobotanist hired to replace Rigel, had been sent to the ship from a safer region. While he didn't have quite the emotional flair of Rigel, he also produced a more limited range of research than Rigel. Often, Harvey simply tested some of Rigel's theories, whether tested or untested. This added some important knowledge, but failed to make significant headway towards a cure for the pandemic.
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Entire societies, spanning multiple planets and in some cases even star systems, got wiped out by the pandemic. It showed no signs of slowing down. To the contrary, it seemed to many observers to be speeding up.
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Another night, while he was supposed to be asleep, Rigel lay awake. He asked himself if he should sneak into the Order data center, see if they had any plant data that the League had never had. But the mere thought repulsed him, and listening to his better judgment, he turned to other thoughts. Morose thoughts, about his lot.
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Sophiy had the occasional thought of Rigel, too.
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The League ship dodged a blast from the Order fleet. Increasingly, this scene had played out. The League ship pushed its thrusters to the maximum, bolting for safety.
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As medics evacuated more victims, cordoned off more regions as uninhabitable, the virus continued to beguile them.
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As soon as one medicine showed any signs of effectiveness, even the slightest hint, the virus morphed into a different shape that was immune to the medicine. Sometimes the virus even seemed to morph before the medicine showed any effect.
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"It's ridiculous!" thought Rigel, looking through the Order virus data on his visor.
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"Here they have dozens of variations, a whole typology, as though these are separate virii. Well, who am I to say? Maybe they are. But what does that actually say about this pandemic? It doesn't lead to any remedy."
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"So," said Morp, sitting down next to Rigel. "You've taken an interest in our data, have you? Need I remind you of our past conversation on this topic?"
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Rigel had become old. That is, he had reached into his hundreds, well into his thousands, of local years. Still, because of his biological immortality, he didn't look a day older than when he had first drunk of that potion.
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Inside Rigel's bodies, cells continued to divide, without dying of old age as would happen in a mortal. Rigel still bore scars from thousands of years before, as his cells could only continue reproducing themselves normally, not conferring any protection against injuries other than old age.
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Rigel had taken a liking to his biological immortality. Of course, it was illegal back in the League. Here in the Order, however, it didn't carry the same social limitations.
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Rigel often spent time with other immortals.
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The Order issued a command to attack the League's traditional stronghold.
6.4
The...
6.5
There was destruction everywhere. Hundreds of ships burning.
...
... The screen started to (glitch). Sophiy are you okay? Rigel I need you to deliver a message to (...). Promise me. Yes, yes, I promise. It’s encoded in this transmission. They’re coming for me. I don’t have much time. Loud noises and fire consumed Sophiy’s screen. Rigel I’m so sorry for everything I put you through. “No, it’s fine, every moment with you has been wonderful, even the thoughts of you. Sophiy started to cry, Rigel, know that I do love you. I lov... the screen went black. Sophiy! Sophiy!
6 Billion A.D.: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Leaving Love | Chapter 4 | Hero of the League | The Order Attacks | The League Fights Back | Messenger of Destruction | The Search | Collapse |