Editing 6 Billion A.D./Messenger of Destruction

Tentative Synopsis: In his despair Rigel becomes the tool of the enemy, as the Order pushes the League to the brink.

==Rigel Later==
After having lived for thousands of years, Rigel had become quite powerful. Still, he did have some weaknesses.

Rigel now thought of himself as part of a higher class. No longer was he timid about his immortality.

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Vespa sighed a breath of relief.

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Rigel steeled himself for what he was to do next.

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As enemy ships cruised by -- the enemy now being the League, his former allies -- Rigel deftly maneuvered through their ranks. Nine thousand years of experience, plus an insider's knowledge of the driving forces behind the enemy -- these enabled Rigel to push through fast.

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The enemy fired, in seemingly every direction, yet without landing a hit. Instead, Rigel managed to avoid even a scratch in his ship's paint.

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Vespa had, despite the frustrations, hacked together a functional rig. Her Splunks now reproduced -- in silico and in vitro and now in vivo -- within animal cells. The tissues showed clearly the signs and symptoms of the pandemic. Now all she had to do was convince her allies. In short, her work had only just begun.

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"The response has caused more harm than the virus!"

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Vespa worked away on her Splunks.

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"Just think of all the hours lost, the shuttered businesses. More people have probably died from starvation and other indirect effects of the quarantine, than from the illness itself. What are the symptoms? It makes you feel somewhat sick. So what? That won't kill you. The quarantine may."

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''Out of luck'', thought Rigel. ''Again.''

Not seeing any way out -- out of his infection, out of his loss, his solitude -- Rigel committed himself to a different approach. Instead of fighting against it, he would embrace it -- defeat. Total defeat. Rigel would carry out the Order's orders. To destroy the universe.

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Changing course, Rigel veered right into the heart of enemy territory. Towards the secret League base, whose location he only knew from the Order. For back in the League, Rigel admitted to himself now, he was nothing. He had no position there, he was only a pawn in their game. He would have given his life for the League then, but not now. Now he would end the League.

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Vespa sat nervously at her station. The sirens were ringing. Alarm level five. An incoming attack. This could be it. The end of her ship, the end of her mission, the end of her. And if she had known who was leading the attack, it would only have made matters worse.

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Vespa, in her ignorance, wished Rigel were with her here, now. She wished she could see him one last time. To tell him again how she felt about him. To hold his uniformed hand.

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Vespa glanced at her visor. Here it was. The attack.

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Rigel tugged on his emergency shock cord. Yup, all set. Grimacing, he yanked back the throttle to full, felt the G's accelerate, and shot his ship into the perimeter of the secret League base.

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"So," said Morp. "You've finally come around. That makes me feel--" he paused, searching for words. This was unfamiliar emotional territory for him. "Happy?" Something like that."

"I'm doing this for the good of the universe," said Rigel seriously.

"No matter. You're doing the right thing."

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"Rigel! What are you doing?!"

"I have to!"

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Within the League area, personnel remained calm.

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The people here had become accustomed to quiet. To being left alone. For tens of thousands of years, this base had remained untouched.

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In a region of space that even most League members ignored, the League had erected a veil. 

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Practically no light could enter or exit this region of space. Devices ringing the region intercepted incoming or outgoing radiation. By applying an inverse wave, it was possible to block out this zone. An invisibility cloak for an entire region of space.

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Now, however, Rigel had pierced the veil.

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Piloting his ship through the region, he was not met by any League ships. Not even intercepted by the usual escorts, which he had expected.  Only Rigel against the stars.

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In the secret base, the doddering old leaders of the League seemed unaware of how dire their situation had become. Though their bodies had not aged at all for thousands of years, their minds had decayed from use, or disuse, as the case may be.

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"We'll have to return the universe to better condition again over the upcoming centuries, said one immortal, for all here were immortals. Unbeknownst to him, the Order was just then readying the final destruction of the universe. And their trigger man was rapidly approaching the doddering old fool.

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Rigel looked sternly into his visor. In addition to the navigation view, showing his approaching ship near to the secret League base, Rigel had summoned up a view of the critical infrastructure of the base.

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Rigel traced out the diagrams of the base in his mind, readying his penetration.

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"No," said one of the lead epidemiologists. "We can't approve this."

"Why not?!" asked Vespa's lawyer. He had offered to represent her case to the board.

"Because we can't endanger the quarantine region. Also, we don't have conclusive evidence that your pathogen model is accurate."

"The quarantine zone is already in danger!" Vespa blurted out. Her lawyer quieted her, and addressed the board. "What my client wants to say is that the expected return of releasing this, uh, possible remedy, exceeds that of delaying any further. Furthermore, my client wishes to say that this model has already been demonstrated in organic tissue, and as such should be considered workable."

The epidemiology board members whispered among themselves. After a while, one of them addressed the audience again. "No, we can't approve this." The board got up and left the room.

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In the quarantine zone, desperation rose.

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Many civilians had taken to wearing extra protective equipment, even though it had not been shown to reduce the effects of the illness. Further, even the cautious epidemiological board had recommended again the suits for civilians.

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Populations paid attention to the newscasts. The media made out like bandits, even as entire industries fell apart.

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"Epidemiology chic," one headline called it. People going about their planets in their large protective suits. The cartoonists had a heydey with it.

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On some of the smaller asteroids, detached as they were from the main planets, life went on more or less normally. Many of the asteroid-dwellers here had no use for the news, the heavy suits, or any of the other pandemic paraphernalia.

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The League had been torn apart. It was effectively over. Only a few holdouts remained, and they too were near destruction. The only question that remained, thought Rigel, was whether he would destroy the universe -- now or later.

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Morp had a change of heart. After his fascination with Rigel, Morp was becoming frustrated. Both were immortals. Morp had held the upper hand. But now he became concerned that he had given Rigel too much room.

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The Order had become far more efficient, far faster. Over the last few thousand years, in particular -- ever since Vespa had arrived -- every part of the Order from its chemists to its custodians had become at least five times faster.

The ''Vermitrius'' had spread. From the ship where Vespa had landed, small clumps of the stuff had snuck over to other ships. Then, the species had made its way back into Order bases. Soon, much of the Order had been contaminated, for their own benefit.

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Order ships buzzed with activity. Neat rows of chemistry benches worked actively. The military operated with precision. They had cleaned out most League sectors. Indeed, they had cleaned out most of the reachable universe.

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There still remained traces of the spontaneity that had led to earlier Order advances. Not that the Order had ever had that much looseness, but where there had been some before, now it was gone.

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The Order had taken its mature form. From its early start out of the last collapse, through its vying against the then-dominant League, the Order now exercised near total control over a large region of space. Its military had become the organizational method for all species encompassed within the region.

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"Is there any way out?" whispered one resident in the quarantine zone to another.

"There must be," responded another resident, unconvincingly.

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Vespa was arrested.

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==8.2==
My ship was captured by an Order [drifter]. It pulled me into its bay...

...

... The robed man said... “Why?” I asked. Why does the Order do it? It’s hard to understand. We’re not monsters. “But you wreak such destruction.” The universe is such a fragile thing. It’s alive. I looked up, what do you mean?. This is not the first time, there’s been countless cycles. And each time it must be protected. Protected from what? Sentient life, of course, desperately wanting to live at all cost, to change everything only to eventually disappear. Should we really compare the selfish needs of one race to Infinity. “But to destroy, throw the galaxy into a dark age.” We do what must be done. What if you did stop it, stop the collapse. You know you would kill the universe. I replied, but it’s inevitable right? Nothing is inevitable. It can be stopped. It’s always within reach, one galaxy can poison everything. “So you’re saviors” I said mockingly. No we do what must be done.

...

I don’t care about you’re miserable manifesto. I just want to destroy something, I said. Then we will let you.

==Molecular Solutions==

Rigel steered directly towards the station.
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On a small backwaters asteroid, Rast sat around his shack.  His employer, a factory that processed sewage from the local pond into lubricants, had shut down during the pandemic. At this rate, it didn't look like it would reopen any time soon.

With no job, Rast set about his own activities. Often, he went down to the pond, scooped up some water in a jar, and brought it back to his house. There, he conducted various tests. While he wasn't a professional researcher -- at the factory his lowly job had only been to clean out the equipment -- science was a hobby of his.

Rast browsed around the data links, which were still active. Without those, the smaller asteroids would have been totally disconnected, probably reverting back to primitive conditions.

On the data links, Rast searched our various chemical formulae. The data links contained apps that showed different molecules, including how they could connect with other molecules. Rast searched through the molecules that he knew were in the pond liquid, as well as molecules that he found in his tests.

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Many molecules came up empty. None of the configurations that Rast tested produced any effects. He had tried to produce a beverage that would get him happy. The layoffs had brought about significant depression.

After failing to find any inebriants among his mix, Rast switched to testing for other useful compounds. At first, he still found nothing. Then, a few results started popping up. One molecule, which was not directly in the mix but could easily be produced by adding a common chemical, produced a detergent. Another indirectly producible molecule added a pleasant aroma.

Rast kept at it. Even as his finances ran dry, as the plant remained shuttered, Rast kept experimenting on his solutions.

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Rast's wife became concerned. Not only were they running out of food, now her husband had taken to his tests. Instead of pursuing some other productive activity, a side business like some of his colleagues and neighbors had pursued, he seemed to be going crazy. She often complained to her friends.

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After numerous failures, and the occasional partial success, Rast stumbled upon something unusual. This differed not only from his previous results, but even from what he thought was possible. All of the reading that he had done on the data links showed that this was impossible, yet it had happened anyways.

In his test tube, an dirty old one that he had scavenged from the factory before it had closed down, Rast had found a rare molecule. The molecule, which he had tested against the libraries, showed an interaction with an organism that Rast hadn't even known about. The data links called this organism a "Splunk". Funny name, Rast thought.

The details showed that Splunks were considered a probable causative agent in the ongoing pandemic. And now, right in his very test tube, which despite his lengthy efforts Rast had started to give up on, a molecule seemed to deactivate the Splunks. Jackpot!

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Rast's asteroid had become a media sensation. Every night, huge numbers of people around the galaxy tuned in to watch the latest newscasts. MIRACLE CURE.

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Some of Rast's neighbors visited him. They showed up on their rockriders, rolling rocks that they kicked along only somewhat faster than walking. Until now, Rast's neighbors had regarded him as unfortunate. They thought he had lost his mind. Now that the media had descended, Rast had become the most popular resident of the asteroid.

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Rast had made so many friends, he didn't know what to do. Soon his visor was so full of messages, announcements, gifts, and other notifications, that he could only see a small patch of the space in front of him.

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A few weeks after he had made headlines, Rast had taken to being a celebrity. He had started wearing more decorative clothing, unlike the rags that he used to wear (his wife wondered where he had got the money, since they still hadn't received much for their efforts).

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The asteroid itself became noteworthy. While its official name was only A150874854, and its residents had colloquially known it as "the 'Roid", after hitting it big the asteroid was officially renamed to Asteroidae Curis. Also, the media started referring to it as "the Rastroid."

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There was chaos. As reporters and locals jostled in the hallways of Rast's house, a fight broke out. Even the reporters there didn't realize that the Order had an agent present.

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Even thousands of years after the pandemic had broken out, it remained a force to be reckoned with. Perhaps more so, as some argued, as a media force rather than a medical force.

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At 9,873 years old, Rigel thought that one hadn't really lived until one had reached at least nine thousand.

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==8.4==
As one world after another fell, my face was the last thing they saw. To go from a hero, someone that was celebrated, to a monster made the affair exceptionally terrible. It felt good at first, but now it was becoming unbearable. Could I just leave and wander the ashes? Haven't I done enough (damage) for one lifetime. Would the Order even let me leave. They would probably kill me. But I guess that is what I deserve anyway...

...

...

Surprisingly they let me leave, even providing a small ship. I guess there was nothing left for me to do; my tenure had expired. The remaining free worlds were largely insignificant. All the great alliances were broken. All the great races were planet bound, only a small fraction of the population remained. It would be centuries before the galaxy would start to recover. The Order had done its job...

...

==The Destruction Starts==

The asteroid went dark.

Suddenly, the starlight that would normally have arrived, did not.

This was different than the other blackouts. Some of the asteroids had only artificial lights. These often had their power shut off -- because of failure to pay the bills, because of corruption at the suppliers, or these days simply because the pandemic had drained the coffers of much of civilization.

However, the Rastroid did not depend entirely on artificial light. It had its own star, near enough to take in some visible light. So what had happened?

It looked like an eclipse. Yet, no eclipses were expected then. And the eclipses had been worked out in detail for this asteroid.

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Rigel arrived at the League base, unnoticed. With the advantage of an advanced Order spy ship, and detailed Order maps, Rigel had the upper hand. The League had defended its last stronghold with as much force as it could muster, yet this paled next to the mighty Order.

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"Who are you?" The stunned League senior representative asked Rigel.

"What, you don't remember me?" Rigel answered.

"Remember you from where? That is, uh, I, er--"

"I used to work for you. My, how things have changed," said Rigel.

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Rigel addressed the assembled League representatives. "The Order has a chemical. It doesn't matter what it's called. This chemical can start a chain reaction. Not only with other molecules of its own kind, as with your conventional nuclear reactions. No, this is a far more powerful molecule. When this chain reaction gets underway, it sets off ''every nearby hydrogen atom''. For those of you on the political side, I remind you that the vast majority of the known universe is made out of hydrogen."

Some of the League representatives whispered nervously among themselves.

"Any questions?" asked Rigel.

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These were the last remaining leaders of the League. The founders, the senators, the formerly wealthy.

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The galaxy had fallen into quasi-disuse.

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Just now, as things seemed to be straightening out, as civilization seemed to be recovering from its grave illness, here was Rigel, threatening to dismantle the whole thing.

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"Why are you going along with this?" asked an elderly representative.

"Going along with what?" said Rigel.

"With-- ''this''," answered the elderly representative, making an expansive gesture. "This nonsense. This whole thing. Didn't we train you to be an honest citizen? Haven't you any concern for the wellbeing of your fellow citizens -- whether in the League or in that ''other'' organization?"

"Yes, of course I have," said Rigel. "Just what are you getting at?"

"What I am getting at," said the elderly representative, in carefully paced tones from a previous era. "What I am getting at is this. Your actions endanger--"

"My actions endanger civilization, I know," said Rigel. "I've already heard it, a thousand times."

"Then why don't you change your actions?"

"Because there's more to it that you don't know," said Rigel. "Have you ever thought about what happens after this collapse?"

"Don't be a fool. Nothing happens after this collapse. Which ''you'' are bringing about. Or nothing but some happenstance species having an extra few million years while the rest of us are long gone."

"There, you said it yourself," said Rigel, seeming to claim victory even though his opponent remained set against him. "''Or''. Or what? You admitted you don't know."

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"So?" said the elder statesman.

"So," said Rigel. "We don't know what happens. Maybe there's another, better outcome, and this collapse is necessary to bring it about."

"It seems that the enemy has taught you well."

"You think of the Order as the enemy. If you knew more, you'd see them as your friend. Maybe the League is your true enemy. Or what's left of the League, anyways." Rigel gestured about the depressing room.

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Rast hurried about his house, rushing the media personnel out. His wife, who had just been sharing cooking tips with Talia, seemed disturbed. "What's going on?" she asked Rast.

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Vespa caught wind of the situation from onboard the Order ship where she was held captive. As the guards talked among themselves, seemingly oblivious to the prisoners like her, they mentioned a victory. At first she thought it was just another skirmish in the ongoing space battles. But soon she detected overtones of something more serious.

"Yeah, it's a game-changer," she thought she heard one guard say.

Slowly, the news trickled through the prison cells. An League important base had been attacked, and apparently put up not much resistance. This may well spell the end of the League, rumor had it.

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Rigel adjusted his visor.

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The asteroid dwellers gathered in the dark. A few small pond vultures flew overhead.

The crowd whispered. What was going on?

A small group pushed its way around one side of the crowd. Media personnel surrounded a smaller group of people. The crowd struggled to see who was inside the media wrap.

Of course! It was Rast. Alongside Rast, his wife was there, as were a few others, whom the crowd had grown used to seeing with Rast. Though the crowd didn't know these individuals, they were cousins and other relatives of Rast's.

"Friends! Fellows! Asteroid-dweller!" The crowd listened attentively.

"It has come to my attention," said Rast. People jostled to see Rast, to make out any hint of his mood. The asteroid population had grown nervous as the blackout had continued. "It has come to my attention that we may be under attack." The crowd stood even more alert.

"What is happening?" yelled someone from the crowd.

"Who is attacking us?" asked another.

"This is your fault!" yelled someone who had not appreciated the attention brought by Rast's discovery.

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Rigel looked around. In the old headquarters of the League, he could see where many decisions had been made that had affected his life. Here were all the remaining leaders who had directed the efforts of the League, including the medical ship that he had ridden deep into pandemic territory. And now Rigel had the upper hand.

"This is where it ends," said Rigel firmly.

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==Collapse==

The asteroid mines remained shut down.

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Crowds gathered around an old data link to listen to and watch the news. On the asteroids, many residents did not have their own visors. Here, even with the flood of reporters, many locals only found out what happened by listening to their friends' newscasters.

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The residents had begun to take the pandemic for granted. There it remained, day after day. Even though it was only supposed to last a few years, decades, maybe centuries, it had now gone on for longer than most of them had even lived.

"Were you born before or after the start of the pandemic?" became a common question.

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Some locals here and on other asteroids throughout the mining belt began to have conspiracy theories. Some suggested that the pandemic was a hoax, others said that it was deliberately set loose by various nefarious agents.

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The protective suits that had started as medical necessity, then become social token, had now become a standard fashion accessory.

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Even as the universe seemed to fall apart, Vespa had her love for Rigel.

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Rigel held the test tube in his hand. A single twitch, just to squeeze it enough to let some of the fluid come into contact with the air, and boom! There goes the galaxy.

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Back on the Rasteroid, the dwellers produced more commotion. They didn't understand much of the pandemic -- many residents didn't even know that their asteroid was but a small part of a small corner of a much larger region of space.

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The Rasteroid dwellers fought among themselves. As if that would turn the lights back on, or get their jobs back. The mines remained closed. Much of the population now depended on slime and slugs fished out of the lake.

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The cure seemed to be having effect. At least, people behaved as if it did. Perhaps the placebo effect was all it had, or all it took. At any rate, civilization seemed to be returning to some type of normalcy.

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A few more businesses opened. Now, not only were the basic food providers opening up on some of the larger, medium, and even smaller planets, but also a few restaurants and some other suppliers had opened.

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The media had grown sick of being stuck on the Rasteroid. After the initial excitement of the cure had set in, many reporters had grown weary of the antics of the locals. The slime tasted unappealing, but admittedly some of the lake slugs had some flavor. There were definitely appealing parts of the asteroid, and it was better than being stationed in some other areas -- especially during this pandemic period. However, many of the media personnel yearned for more exciting places, with more cosmopolitan people.

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Rigel deliberated. Should he do it? End it all? For his own sake, he was ready. The only thing holding him back now was his concern for other people. Was it really just to destroy the universe? As dark as he felt, what about Sophiy's relatives? What about Vespa? What about the quadrillions of people he hadn't even met? Surely they didn't deserve to die. And yet, maybe it was for the best.

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==Navigation==

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