The Wandering Earth: Classic Science Fiction Collection

CHAPTER 1 The Crystal from Eridanus

It was right in front of him, but the Captain still could barely make out its translucent crystal structure. Floating through the black void of space, it was hidden by the dark, like a piece of glass sunken in the murky depths. Only the slight distortion of starlight its passage provoked allowed the Captain to make out its position. Soon it was lost again, disappearing in the space between the stars.

Suddenly, the Sun distorted, its distant, eternal light twisting and twinkling before their eyes. It gave the Captain a start, but he maintained his proverbial “Asian cool”. Unlike the dozen soldiers floating beside him, he managed not to gasp in shock. The Captain immediately understood; the crystal, a mere 30 feet away, had moved in front of the Sun, shining 60 million miles in the distance. In the three centuries to come, this strange vista would often play across his mind and he would wonder if it had been an omen of humanity’s fate to come.

As the highest ranking officer of the United Nation’s Earth Protection Force in space, the Captain commanded the force’s interplanetary assets. It was a tiny unit, but it was equipped with the most powerful nuclear weapons humanity had ever devised. Its enemies were lifeless rocks hurtling through space; asteroids and meteorites that the early warning system had determined to be a threat to Earth. The mission of the Earth Protection Force was to redirect or to destroy these objects.

They had been on space patrol for more than two decades now, yet they had never had a chance to deploy their bombs. All rocks large enough to warrant their use seemed to avoid Earth, willfully denying them their chance for glory.

Now, however, a sweep had discovered this crystal at a distance of two astronomical units. The crystal’s trajectory was as precipitous as it was utterly unnatural, and that was taking it straight toward Earth.

The Captain and his unit cautiously approached, their space suits’ boosters spinning a web of trails around the strange object. Just as they closed to 30 feet, a misty light flashed to life inside the crystal, clearly revealing its prismatic outline about 10 feet long. As the space patrol drew nearer, they could make out the intricate, crystalline pipes of its propulsion system. The Captain was now floating directly in front of it. Stretching the gloved right hand of his spacesuit toward the crystal, he initiated humanity’s first contact with an extra-terrestrial intelligence.

As he reached, the crystal again faded to transparency. A brilliantly colored image now sprang to life inside it. It was a manga girl, with huge, rolling eyes and long hair that cascaded down to her feet. She was wearing a beautiful, flowing skirt and she seemed to dreamily drift in invisible waters.

“Warning! Alert! Warning! The Devourer approaches!” she immediately shouted out, stricken with obvious panic. Her large eyes stared at the Captain, a lithe arm pointing away from the Sun in unmistakable alarm. There could be little doubt the unseen pursuer was hot on her dainty heels.

“Where do you come from?” the Captain inquired, by all appearances unperturbed.

“Epsilon Eridani, as you apparently call it, and by your reckoning of time, I have traveled for sixty thousand years,” she replied, before again raising her cry. “The Devourer approaches! The Devourer approaches!”

The Captain continued his inquiry. “Are you alive?”

“Of course not; I am merely a message,” came the response. But it was only a short reprieve. “The Devourer approaches! The Devourer approaches!”

“How is it that you can speak English?” the Captain continued.

The girl again replied without hesitation. “I learned in transit,” she said, only to carry on: “The Devourer approaches! The Devourer approaches!”

“And that you look as you do…?” the Captain let his question trail off.

“I saw it in transit,” she said, before continuing to shout with ever greater urgency. “The Devourer approaches! The Devourer approaches! Oh, surely the Devourer must terrify you.”

“What is the Devourer?” the Captain finally asked.

“In appearance it matches a gigantic tire. Hm, yes, that would be an analogy that works for you,” the Girl from Eridanus began her explanation.

“You are very well-acquainted with how things work on our world,” the Captain interrupted, raising an eyebrow behind his visor.

“I became acquainted in transit,” the girl replied, before again crying out: “The Devourer approaches!” With that last cry she flashed to one end of the crystal. Where she had been a second ago, an image of the “tire” appeared, and it indeed closely resembled a tire, even though its surface glowed with phosphorescent light.

“How large is it?” one of the other officers queried.

“Thirty-one thousand miles in total diameter. The ‘tire’s’ body is six thousand miles wide and the hole in the middle has a diameter of nineteen thousand miles.”

There was a long pause before someone asked the question now on everyone’s mind. “Are the miles you are talking about our miles?”

The girl immediately and calmly answered. “Of course. It is so large that it can encircle an entire planet, just like one of your tires might fit around a soccer ball. Once it has encased a world, it begins plundering the planet’s natural resources, only to spit out the remains like a cherry pit once it is done!”

There was another pause before the officer spoke again, his voice quivering with trepidation. “But we still do not understand what the Devourer really is.”

The girl in the crystal offered more information without hesitation. “It is a generation ship, although we do not know where it came from or where it is going. In fact, even the giant lizards that pilot the Devourer surely do not to know. Having wandered the Milky Way for tens of millions of years, they will have certainly forgotten both their origin and their original purpose. But this much is certain: In the far past, when the Devourer was built, it was much smaller. It eats planets to grow, and it devoured our world!”

As she finished, the image of the Devourer in the crystal grew, gradually coming to dominate its entire surface. It soon became apparent that it was slowly descending upon the unseen camera operator’s world. Seen through the eyes of the planet’s inhabitants, their world had become nothing more than the bottom of a slowly spinning, cosmic well. Complex structures were clearly visible, covering the walls of this titanic well. At first, they reminded the Captain of infinitely magnified microprocessor circuitry. Then, he realized that they were an endless string of cities, stretching the entire inner ring of the Devourer. Looking up, the image in the crystal revealed a circle of blue radiance emanating from the well’s mouth. In the sky above it formed a gigantic halo of fire, encircling the stars.

The Girl from Eridanus told them that they were seeing the jets of the Devourer’s aft ring engine. As she spoke, her entire body erupted into a flowing flourish, and even her cascading hair began to wave like countless twisting arms, with every last part of her expressing boundless terror.

“What you are seeing is the devouring of the third planet of Epsilon Eridani,” she told them. “The first thing you would have noticed, had you been on our world then, was your body becoming lighter. You see, the Devourer’s gravitational pull was powerful enough to counteract our planet’s gravity. The destruction this wrought was devastating: First our oceans surged to meet the Devourer as it passed over our planet’s pole. Then, as it moved to fully encircle our world, they followed it to the equator. As the oceans swept the globe, their waves raised high enough to engulf the clouds.

The incredible gravitational forces tore at our continents, ripping them apart as if they were nothing but tissue-paper. Our sea floor and dry land were pockmarked by countless volcanic eruptions.” The girl paused in her narrative, only to pick it up with a flutter of her big eyes. “Now that it had encircled our equator, the Devourer stopped, perfectly matching our planet in its orbit around our Sun. Our world was right in its maw.

“When the plunder of a world commences, countless cables thousands of miles long are lowered from the Devourer’s inside wall to the planet’s surface below. An entire world is trapped, like a fly in the web of a cosmic spider. Giant transport modules are then sent back and forth between planet and Devourer, taking with them the planet’s oceans and atmosphere. As they shuttle to and fro, other titanic machines begin to drill deep into the planet’s crust, frenziedly extracting minerals to satisfy the Devourer’s hunger.” The girl again paused, her eyes staring intensely into the distance. She continued as abruptly as she had stopped. “Devourer and planet cancel out each other’s gravity, creating a low-gravity zone between this tire-like entity and the planet. This zone makes it that much easier to bring the planet’s resources to the Devourer. The epic plunder is extremely efficient.

Expressed in Earth time, the Devourer only needs to chew on a world for a century or so. After it is done, all of the planet’s water and atmosphere will have been picked to nothing. As the Devourer ravages, its gravity will also come to deform the planet, slowly stretching it along its equator. In the end, it will become…” the girl paused a third time, this time struggling for words rather than effect, “how would you call it? Yes, discus-shaped. The Devourer, having sucked the planet completely dry, will move on, spitting out the planet. When it leaves, the planet will return to its round shape. As it reforms, the entire world will suffer an ultimate global catastrophe; its surface coming to resemble the molten sea of magma that heralded its birth many billion years ago. Much like then, no trace of life will remain in this inferno.”

“How far is the Devourer from our solar system?” the Captain immediately asked as she finished.

“It is just behind me!” she warned urgently. “In your reckoning, it will arrive in a mere century! Alert! The Devourer approaches! The Devourer approaches!”

CHAPTER 2 Emissary Fangs

Just as the debate over the crystal’s credibility began to rage in earnest, the first small Devourer ship entered the solar system. It was heading straight toward Earth.

The first contact was again initiated by the space patrol led by the Captain. The mood of this contact could not have been more different than the last and mood was by far not the only contrast. The exquisitely-wrought structure of the Eridanus Crystal bore all the hallmarks of the ethereal technology of a delicate civilization. The Devourer’s ship represented the polar opposite. Its exterior appeared exceedingly crude and ungainly, somewhat like a frying pan that had spent the better part of a century forgotten in the wilderness. It immediately reminded onlookers of a giant steampunk machine.

The envoy of the Devourer Empire was his vehicle’s equal, a massive, ungraceful lizard covered in huge slabs of scale. Erect, he stood nearly 30 feet tall. He introduced himself as “Faingsh,” but his appearance and later behavior quickly led to him being called “Fangs” instead.

When Fangs landed before the United Nation’s Building, his craft’s engines blasted a large crater, the splattering concrete leaving the surrounding buildings scarred and battered. As the alien emissary’s massive size made entry into the Assembly Hall impossible, the world’s heads of state had gathered on the United Nations Plaza in front of the UN Building to meet him. Some among them now covered their faces with bloody handkerchiefs, staunching foreheads gashed open by flying glass and concrete.

The ground shook with every step Fangs took toward them and when the alien spoke, his voice roared. It was a sound like the screaming horns of a dozen train engines and it left the hair standing on end of all who heard it. Fangs spoke through an unwieldy translator hanging around his neck. The device repeated his words back in English; he, too, had learned the language in transit. The rough male voice his translator produced, despite being much less in volume than Fangs’ real voice, nonetheless made his listeners’ flesh creep.

“Ha! Ha! You white and tender worms, you fascinating little worms,” Fangs jovially began.

All around people covered their ears until the thunderous roar had ended and only removed their hands slightly to hear the translation.

“You and I will live together for a century and I believe that we shall come to like each other,” Fangs continued.

“Your honor, you must know that we are very concerned as to the purpose of your great mother ship’s arrival in our solar system!” the Secretary General stated, raising his head to address Fangs. Even though he was shouting at the top of his lungs, he still managed to sound no louder than a mosquito’s buzz.

Fangs adopted a human-like posture, raising himself on his hind legs. As he shifted his weight, the Earth trembled. “The great Devourer Empire will consume the Earth so that it may continue its epic journey!” he proclaimed. “This is inevitable!”

“What, then, of humanity?” the Secretary General asked, his voice quivering ever so slightly.

“That is something I will assuredly determine this very day,” Fangs replied.

In the pause that followed, the heads of state exchanged meaningful glances. The Secretary General finally nodded and said, “This definitely requires that we enter into private consultations with one another.”

Fangs shook his massive head, interrupting before they could speak further. “It is a very simple matter; I must merely have a taste…”

And with that, his giant claw reached into the gathered crowd and snatched up a European head of state. He gracefully tossed the man, a throw of 20-odd feet, straight into his mouth. Then he carefully began to chew. From the first crunch to last, his victim remained completely mute; it was impossible to tell whether it was dignity or terror that stayed his screams.

In the terrible moments that followed, the only sound was that of the man’s skeleton snapping and cracking between Fangs’ giant, dagger-like teeth. After about half a minute, Fangs spat out the man’s suit and shoes, much as a human might spit out watermelon seeds. Even though the clothes were covered in oozing blood, they remained horrifyingly intact.

All the world seemed to have fallen completely silent, a deathly quiet seeming to be without beginning or end; without end, that is, until a human voice broke it.

“How, sir, could you just pick him up and eat him?” the Captain asked as he stood amongst the crowd.

Fangs walked toward him with colossal, thundering steps. The crowd scattered in his wake. He stood before the Captain and lowered his gaze of pitch black, basketball-sized eyes until he was staring right at him. He asked, “I shouldn’t have?”

“Sir, how could you have known that you can eat him?” the Captain asked flatly. “From a biochemical perspective it is almost impossible that a being from such a distant world should be edible.”

Fangs nodded, his large maw almost seeming to grin. “I have had my eye on you. You watched me with cool detachment, lost in thought. What is it that you were contemplating?”

The Captain returned his smile and replied, “Sir, you breathe our air and speak using sound waves. You have two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. You have four limbs arranged along a bilateral symmetry…” He let his thought drift off into silence.

“And you don’t understand it?” Fangs asked, snaking his giant head right in front of the Captain’s face. With a hiss, he exhaled a nauseating breath, reeking of blood and gore.

“That is correct. I do understand the principle of the matter well enough to find it incomprehensible that we should be so similar,” the Captain answered, showing no signs of revulsion or fear.

“There is something I do not understand. Why are you so calm? Are you a soldier?” Fangs asked in response.

“I am warrior in defense of Earth,” the Captain answered.

“Hm, but does pushing around small stones really make you a warrior?” Fangs countered with more than a hint of mockery.

“I am ready for greater tests,” the Captain solemnly stated, raising his head.

“You fascinating little worm.” Fangs laughed, nodding. Raising his body to its full height, he turned back to the heads of state. “But let us return to the real topic at hand: Humanity’s fate. You are tasty. There is a smooth and mild quality about you that reminds me of certain blue berries we found on a planet in Eridanus. I therefore congratulate you. Your species will continue. We will raise you as livestock in the Devourer Empire. We will allow you to live a good sixty years before we bring you to market.”

“Sir, do you not think that our meat will be too gamey at that age?” the Captain asked with a cold chuckle.

Fangs roared with laughter, his voice like an erupting volcano. “Ha, ha, ha, ha! The Devourers like chewy snacks!”

CHAPTER 3 Ants

The United Nations engaged Fangs in several further meetings. Even though no one else was eaten, the verdict on humanity’s fate remained unchanged.

A meeting was scheduled to take place in a meticulously prepared archaeological excavation site in Africa.

Fangs’ ship landed right on schedule and about 50 feet away from the dig site. The deafening explosion and storm of debris that accompanied the craft’s arrival had by this point become all too familiar.

The Girl from Eridanus had advised them that the vessel’s engine was powered by a miniature fusion reactor. The concept, like most of the information she had provided on the Devourers, was easy enough for the human scientists to understand; the things she told them about the technology of Eridanians, on the other hand, never failed to baffle the people of Earth. Her crystal, for example, began to melt in Earth’s atmosphere. In the end, the entire section containing its propulsion system dissolved, leaving nothing but a thin slice of crystal gracefully floating through the air.

As Fangs arrived at the excavation site, two UN staffers presented him with a large album, a full square yard in size. It had been meticulously designed to accommodate the Devourer’s huge stature. The album’s hundreds of beautifully wrought pages revealed all aspects of human culture in brilliantly colored detail. In some ways it resembled an opulent primer for children.

Inside the large pit of the excavation site itself, an archaeologist vividly described the glorious history of Earth’s civilizations. He threw all his passion into his desperate attempt to make this alien understand; understand that there was so much on this blue planet so worth cherishing. As he spoke, his fervor moved him to tears. It was a pitiable spectacle.

Finally, he pointed to the excavation and intoned: “Honorable emissary, what you see here are the newly discovered remains of a town. This fifty-thousand-year-old site is the oldest human settlement discovered to date. Could the hearts of your people truly be hard enough to destroy this magnificent civilization of ours? A civilization that has developed, step by slow step, over fifty thousand years?”

While all this was going on, Fangs began leafing through the album with obvious, playful amusement. As the archaeologist finished, Fangs raised his head and glanced at the excavation pit. “Hey, archaeologist worm, I care neither for your hole nor your old city in the hole. I would, however, very much want to see the earth you removed from the pit,” he said, pointing at a large pile of dirt.

The archaeologist went from baffled to completely stunned as the artificial voice of the translator finished relaying Fangs’ request. “Earth?” he asked, fumbling for words. “But there’s nothing in that pile of dirt.”

“That is your opinion,” Fangs said, approaching the mound of earth. Bending his gigantic body ground-ward, he reached into the pile with two of his huge claws and began digging. A circle of onlookers quickly formed, many gasping at the deceptive deftness of Fangs’ seemingly unwieldy claws. Prodding the soft earth, he repeatedly retrieved tiny specks from the soil, only to place them on the album. Fangs seemed completely engrossed in this strange labor for a good 10 minutes. Having finished whatever he had been up to, he carefully lifted the album with both claws and straightened his body. Walking toward the gathered humans, he gave them a chance to see what it was that he had placed on the album.

Only by looking very carefully could those gathered make out that it was hundreds of ants. They were gathered in a tight bunch, some alive, others curled up in death.

“I want to tell you a story,” Fangs said as the humans studied the ants. “It is the story of a kingdom. This kingdom was descended from a great empire and it could trace its ancestry all the way back to ends of Earth’s Cretaceous period, where its founders built a magnificent city in the shadow of the towering bones of a dinosaur.” Fangs paused, deep in thought, before continuing. “But that is long-lost, ancient history and when winter suddenly fell, only the last in a long line of queens remembered those glory days. It was a very long winter indeed, and the land was covered by glaciers. Tens of millions of years of vigorous life were lost as existence became ever more precarious.

“After waking from her last hibernation, the queen could not rouse even one out of every hundred of her subjects. The others had been entombed by the cold, some being frozen to nothing but transparent, empty shells. Feeling the walls of her city, the queen realized that they were as cold as ice and hard as steel. She understood that the Earth remained frozen. In this age of terrible cold, even summer brought no thaw. The queen decided it was time to leave the homeland of her ancestors and to seek out unfrozen earth to establish a new kingdom.

“And so the queen led her surviving subjects to the surface to begin their long and arduous journey in the shadow of looming glaciers,” Fang said. “Most of her remaining subjects perished during their protracted wanderings, consumed by the deadly cold. But the queen and a few straggling survivors finally found a patch of earth that remained untouched by frost. Overflowing geothermal energy warmed this sliver of land. The queen, of course, knew nothing of this. She did not understand why there should be moist and soft soil in this frozen world, but she was in no way surprised that she had found it: A race that persevered through sixty million long years could never suffer extinction!

In the face of a glacier-covered Earth and a dim Sun, the queen proclaimed that it was here that they would found a new great kingdom, a kingdom that would endure for all eternity. Standing under the summit of a tall, white mountain, she declared that this new kingdom would be known as ‘Realm of the White Mountain’,” he said grandly.

“In fact, the eponymous summit was the skull of a mammoth,” he continued. “It was the zenith of the Late Pleistocene of the Quaternary Glaciation. In those days the human worms were still dumb animals, shivering in their scattered holes. It would still be ninety thousand years before the first candle light of your civilization would appear a continent away on the plains of Mesopotamia.

Living off the frozen remains of mammoths in the vicinity the Realm of the White Mountain, they survived ten thousand hard years. Then, as the ice age ended, spring returned to Earth and the land was again draped in green. In this great explosion of life, the Realm of the White Mountain quickly entered a golden age of prosperity. Its subjects were beyond number and ruled a vast domain. In the next ten thousand years the kingdom was ruled by countless dynasties, and countless epics told its stories.”

As he continued, Fangs pointed at the large pile of earth in front of them. “That is the final resting place of the Realm of the White Mountain. As you archaeologist worms were preoccupied by your excavations of a lost and dead fifty-thousand-year-old city, you completely failed to realize that the soil above those ruins was teeming with a city that was very much alive. In scale it was easily comparable to New York, and the latter is a city on merely two-dimensions. The city here was a grand three-dimensional metropolis with many layers. Every layer was densely packed with labyrinthine streets, spacious forums, and magnificent palaces. The design of the city’s drainage and fire prevention systems handily outshone those of New York.

“The city was home to a complex social structure and a strict division of labor,” he told his captive audience. “Its entire society ran with machine-like precision and harmonious efficiency. The vices of drug use and crime did not exist here and hence there was neither depravity nor confusion. But its inhabitants were by no means devoid of emotion, showing their abiding sorrow whenever a subject of the Realm passed away. They even had a cemetery on the surface at the edge of the city and there they would bury their dead an inch under the ground.

“However, the greatest acclaim must be reserved for the grand library nestled in the lowest layer of this city. In this library one could find a multitude of ovoid containers. Each container was a book filled with pheromones. The exceedingly complex chemistry of these pheromones stored the city’s knowledge. Here the epics detailing the enduring history of the Realm of the White Mountain were recorded. Here you could have learned that in a great forest fire all the subjects of the kingdom embraced each other to form countless balls, and that with heroic effort they were able to escape a sea of fire by floating down a stream. You could have learned the history of the hundred-year war against the White Termite Empire; or of the first time that an expedition from the kingdom saw the great ocean…” Fangs let his translator’s voice trail off.

Then his booming voice again rang out. “But it was all destroyed in three short hours. Destroyed when, with an Earth-shattering roar, the excavators came, blackening the sky. Then their giant steel claws came cutting down. They grabbed the soil of the city, utterly destroying it and crushing all within. They even destroyed the lowest layer where all the city’s children and the tens of thousands of snow-white eggs, yet to become children, rested.”

All of the world again seemed to have fallen deathly quiet. This silence outlasted the quiet that had followed Fangs’ horrible feast. Standing before the alien emissary, humanity was, for the first time, at a loss of words.

Finally Fangs said, “We still have a very long time to get along and very many things to talk about, but let us not speak of morals. In the universe, such considerations are meaningless.”

CHAPTER 4 Acceleration

Fangs left the people at the dig site in a state of deep shock and despair. The Captain again was the first to break the silence. He turned to the surrounding dignitaries of all nations and said, “I know that I am but a nobody and the only reason that I am fortunate enough to attend these occasions is because I was the first to come into contact with two alien intelligences. Nonetheless, I want to say two things: First, Fangs is right; second, humanity’s only way out is to fight.”

“Fight? Oh, captain, fight…” the Secretary-General shook his head, bearing a bitter simile.

“Right! Fight! Fight! Fight!” the Girl from Eridanus shouted from her crystal pane as she flitted several feet above the heads of those assembled. In her Sun-drenched crystal the long-haired girl’s entire body erupted into a flowing flourish.

“You people from Eridanus fought them. How did that end?” someone called out. “Humanity must think of its survival as a species, not of satisfying your twisted desire for vengeance.”

“No, sir,” the Captain said, turning to face the assembled crowd. “The Eridanians engaged an enemy they knew nothing about in their war of self-defense. Furthermore, they were a society that had historically not known war. Given the circumstances, it is hardly surprising that they were defeated. Nonetheless, in a century of bitter warfare, they meticulously acquired a deep understanding of the Devourer. We now have been handed that vast reservoir of knowledge by this spaceship. It will be our advantage.

“Judicious preliminary studies of the material have shown that the Devourer is by no means as terrible as we had first feared,” he told them. “Foremost, beyond the fact that it is inconceivably large, there is little about the Devourer that exceeds our understanding. Its life-forms, the ten billion-plus Devourers themselves, are carbon-based life forms, just like us. They even resemble us on a molecular level, and because we share a biological basis with the enemy, nothing about them will remain beyond our grasp. We should count our blessings; just consider that we could just as well have been faced with invaders made of energy fields and the stuff of neutron stars.

“But there is even more cause for hope,” he said. “The Devourer possesses very little, shall we say, ‘super-technology’. The Devourer’s technology is certainly very advanced when compared to humanity’s, but that is primarily a question of scale, not of theoretical basis. The main energy source of Devourer’s propulsion system is nuclear fusion. In fact, the primary use for water plundered from planets◦— beyond providing basic life-support◦— is fuel for this system. The Devourer’s propulsion technology is based on the principle of recoil and the conservation of momentum; it is not some sort of strange, space-time bending MacGuffin.” The Captain, paused looking at the faces before him. “All of this may dismay our scientists; after all, the Devourer, with its tens of millions of years of continuous development, clearly shows us the limits of science and technology; but it also clearly shows us that our enemy is no invincible god.”

The Secretary-General mulled over the Captain’s words, then asked, “But is that enough to ensure humanity’s victory?”

“Of course we have more specific information. Information that should allow us to formulate a strategy that will give a good shot at victory. For example—”

“Acceleration! Acceleration!” the Girl from Eridanus shouted over their heads, interrupting the Captain.

The Captain explained her outburst to the baffled faces around him. “We have learned from the Eridanian data that the Devourer’s ability to accelerate is limited. The Eridanians observed it for two long centuries and they never once saw it exceed this specific limit. To confirm this, we used the data we received from the Eridanian spaceship to establish a mathematical model that accounts for the Devourer’s architecture and material strength of its structural components. Calculations using this model verify the Eridanian’s observations. There is a firm limit to the speed at which the Devourer can accelerate and this limit is determined by its structural integrity. Should it ever exceed it, the colossus will be torn to pieces.”

“So what?” the head of a great nation asked, under-whelmed.

“We should remain level-headed and carefully consider it,” the Captain answered with a laugh.

CHAPTER 5 The Lunar Refuge

Finally, humanity’s negotiations with the alien emissary showed some small signs of progress. Fangs yielded to the demand for a lunar refuge.

“Humans are homesick creatures,” the Secretary-General had said in one of their meetings, tears in his eyes.

“So are the Devourers, even though we no longer have a home,” Fangs had sympathetically answered, nodding his head.

“So, will you allow a few of us to stay behind? If you permit, they will wait for the great Devourer Empire to spit out the Earth after it has finished consuming the planet. After waiting for the planet’s transformed geology to settle, they will return to rebuild our civilization.”

Fangs shook his gargantuan head. “When the Devourer Empire consumes, it consumes completely. When we are done, the Earth will be a Mars-like desolation. Your worm-technology will not be enough to rebuild a civilization.”

The Secretary-General would not be dissuaded. “But we must try. It will assuage our souls, and it will be especially important for those of us in the Devourer Empire being raised as livestock. It will surely fatten them if they can think back on their distant home in this solar system, even if that home no longer necessarily exists.”

Fangs now nodded. “But where will those people go while the Earth is being devoured? Besides Earth, we also will consume Venus. Jupiter and Neptune are too large for us to consume, but we will devour their satellites. The Devourer Empire is in need of their hydrocarbons and water. We will also take a bite out of the barren worlds of Mars and Mercury, as we are interested in their carbon dioxide and metals. The surfaces of all these worlds will become seas of fire.”

The Secretary-General had an answer ready. “We can take refuge on the Moon. We understand that the Devourer Empire in any case plans to push the Moon out of orbit before consuming the Earth.”

Fangs nodded. “That is right. Combined, the gravitational forces of Devourer and Earth will be very powerful. They could crash the Moon into our ring ship. Such a collision would be enough to destroy our empire.”

The Secretary-General smiled ever so-slightly as he replied. “All right then; let a few of us live up there then. It will be no great loss to you.”

“How many do you plan to leave behind?” Fangs queried.

“The minimum to preserve our civilization, one-hundred thousand,” the Secretary-General answered flatly.

“Well then, you should get to work,” Fangs concluded.

“Get to work? What work?” the Secretary-General asked, perplexed.

“Pushing the Moon out of its orbit. For us, that is always a great inconvenience,” Fangs answered dismissively.

“But,” said the Secretary-General as he grasped his hair in despair as he meekly voiced his protest. “Sir, that would be no different than denying humanity our meager and pitiable request. Sir, you know that we do not possess such technological prowess!”

“Ha, worm, why should I care? And besides, don’t you still have an entire century?” Fangs concluded with a chuckle.

CHAPTER 6 Planting the Bombs

On the gleaming white plains of the Moon, a spacesuit-clad contingent stood next to a tall drilling tower. The emissary of the Devourer Empire stood somewhat apart, his giant frame another towering silhouette against the horizon. All eyes were firmly focused on a metal cylinder being slowly lowered from the top of the drilling tower down into the drill well below. Soon the cable was speeding into the well. On Earth 240,000 miles away, an entire world was glued to the unfolding events. Then came the signal; the payload had reached the bottom of the well. All observers, including Fangs, broke into applause as they celebrated the arrival of this historic moment.

The last nuclear bomb that would propel the Moon had been put in place. A century had passed since the Eridanus Crystal and the emissary of the Devourer Empire had arrived on Earth. For humanity it had been a century of despair; a hundred years of bitter struggle.

In the first half of the century, the entire Earth had zealously thrown itself at the task of constructing an engine that could propel the Moon. The technology needed to build such an engine, however, utterly failed to materialize. All that was accomplished was that the Moon’s surface had gained a few scrap metal mountains, the remains of failed prototypes. Then there were also the lakes of metal, formed where experimental engines had melted under the heat of nuclear fusion.

Humanity had asked the emissary of the Devourer Empire for technological assistance; after all, the lunar engines would not even have to be a tenth of the scale of the countless super engines of the Devourer.

Fangs, however, refused, and instead quipped, “Don’t assume that you can build a planetary engine just because you understand nuclear fusion. It’s a long way from a firecracker to a rocket. Truth be told, there is no reason at all for you to work so hard at it. In the Milky Way, it is perfectly commonplace for a weaker civilization to become the livestock of a stronger civilization. You will discover that being raised for food is a splendid life indeed. You will have no want and live happily to the end. Some civilizations have sought to become livestock, only to be turned down. That you should feel uncomfortable with the idea is entirely the fault of a most banal anthropocentrism.”

So humanity placed all their hope in the Eridanus Crystal, but again they were disappointed. The technology of the Eridanian civilization had developed along completely different lines from Earth’s or that of the Devourer. Their technology was wholly based on their planet’s organisms. The crystal, for example, was a symbiont to a kind of plankton that floated in their world’s oceans. The Eridanians merely synthesized and utilized the unusual abilities of their planet’s life forms without ever truly understanding their secrets. And so, without Eridanian life forms, their technology remained completely unworkable.

After more than 50 valuable years were wasted, the despairing humanity suddenly produced an exceedingly eccentric scheme to propel the Moon. It was the Captain who first came up with this plan. At the time he had a leading role in the Moon propulsion program and had advanced to the rank of marshal. Even though his plan was unapologetically crazy, its technological demands were modest and humanity’s available technology was fully capable of making it work; so much so, in fact, that many were surprised why no one had come up with it earlier.

The new plan to propel the Moon was very simple. A large array of nuclear bombs would be installed on one side of the Moon. These bombs would for the most part be buried about two miles under the lunar surface. Their spacing would ensure that no bomb was destroyed by the blast of another. According to this plan, five million nuclear bombs were to be installed on the Moon’s ‘propulsion side’. Compared to these bombs, humanity’s most powerful Cold War-era nuclear bombs were mere conventional weapons.

When the time came to detonate these super powerful nuclear bombs under the lunar surface, the force of their explosions would be wholly incomparable to the nuclear tests of earlier ages, suffocated deep underground. These denotations would blow-off a complete stratum of lunar matter. In the Moon’s low gravity, the exploded strata’s rocks and dust would reach escape velocity. As they were launched straight into space, they would exert an enormous propulsive force on the Moon itself.

If a certain number of bombs were detonated in rapid succession, this impulse could become a continuous propelling force, just as if the Moon had been fitted with a powerful engine. By detonating nuclear bombs in different places it would be possible to control the Moon’s flight path.

The plan would even go one step further, calling for not one, but two layers of nuclear bombs within the lunar surface. The second layer would be installed at a depth of about four miles. After the top layer had been completely used up, two miles of lunar matter would be stripped from the propulsion side of the Moon. The unceasing denotations would then smoothly transition to the second layer. This would double the duration for which the “engine” could propel the Moon.

When the Girl from Eridanus heard of this plan, she came to the conclusion that humanity was truly insane. “Now I understand. If you had technology to match the Devourers, you might be even more savage than they are,” she exclaimed.

Fangs, on the other hand, was full of praise. “Ha, ha! What a wonderful idea you worms managed to dream up. I love it. I love your vulgarity. Vulgarity is the highest form of beauty!” he commended humanity.

“Absurd; how can vulgarity be beautiful?” the Girl from Eridanus retorted.

“The vulgar is naturally beautiful and nothing is more vulgar than the universe! Stars burn manically in the pitch-black cold abyss of space; is that not vulgar? Do you understand that the universe is masculine? Feminine civilizations, like yours, are fragile, fine and delicate; a sickly abnormality in a tiny corner of the universe. And that is that!” Fangs replied.

A hundred years had passed and Fangs’ huge frame still brimmed with vitality. The Girl from Eridanus was still vivid and bright, but the Marshal felt the weight of years. He was 130, an old man.

At the time, the Devourer had just passed the orbit of Pluto. It was awakening after its long journey of 60,000 years from Epsilon Eridani. In the dark of space its huge ring lit up with brilliant lights and its immense society began its works, preparing to plunder the solar system.

After the Devourer had plundered the peripheral planets, it flung itself onto a precipitous trajectory toward Earth.

CHAPTER 7 Humanity’s First and Last Space War

The acceleration of the Moon away from Earth had begun.

The Moon was hanging in the sky of Earth’s day side when the first bombs were detonated. The flash of every explosion briefly lit up the Moon in the blue sky, giving it the appearance of a giant silver eye frantically blinking in the heavens. When night fell on Earth, the one-sided flashes of the Moon still shone the light of human handiwork to the surface 25,000 miles below. A pale silver trail following the Moon’s back side was now visible. It was composed of the rocks blasted into space from the Moon’s surface. Cameras installed on the propulsion side of the Moon showed strata of rock being blasted into space like billowing floodwaters. The waves of rock quickly faded smaller in the distance, becoming thin strands trailing the Moon. Turning toward the Earth’s other side, the Moon circumscribed an accelerating orbit.

Humanity’s attention, however, was now squarely focused on the great and terrible ring that had appeared in the sky: The Devourer’s approach loomed over the Earth. The enormous tides its gravity evoked had already destroyed Earth’s coastal cities.

The Devourer’s aft engines flashed in a circle of blue light as it engaged in final orbital adjustments as it approached. It eventually perfectly matched the Earth’s orbit around the Sun, while at the same time aligned its axis of rotation with Earth’s. Having completed these adjustments, it ever so slowly began to move toward the Earth, ready to surround the planet with its huge ring body.

The Moon’s acceleration continued for two months. In this time a bomb had exploded within its surface every two or three seconds, resulting in an almost incomprehensible total of 2.5 million nuclear explosions. As it entered into its second orbit around the Earth, the Moon’s acceleration had forced its once circular orbit into a distinctly elliptical shape. As the Moon moved to the far end of this ellipse, Fangs and the Marshal arrived on its forward-facing side, away from the exploding bombs. The Marshal had expressly invited the alien emissary for this occasion.

As they stood on the lunar plain surrounded by craters, they felt the tremors from the other side shake deep beneath their feet. It almost seemed as if they could sense the powerful heartbeat of Earth’s satellite. In the pitch-black sky beyond, the Devourer’s giant ring dazzled with its brilliant light, its huge shape consuming half the sky.

“Excellent, Marshal-worm, most excellent indeed!” Fangs applauded, his voice full of sincere praise. “But,” he continued, “you should hurry. You only have one more orbit to accelerate. The Devourer Empire is not accustomed to waiting for others. And I have another question: The cities you built below the surface a decade ago are still empty. When will their inhabitants arrive? How can your spaceships transport one-hundred thousand here from Earth in only one month?”

“We will bring no one here,” the marshal calmly replied. “We will be the last humans to stand on the Moon.”

Hearing this, Fangs twisted his body in surprise. The Marshal had said ‘We’, meaning the 5,000 officers and soldiers of Earth’s space force. They formed a perfect phalanx on the crater-covered lunar plain. At the front of the phalanx a soldier brandished a blue flag.

“Look, this is our planet’s banner. We declare war upon the Devourer Empire!” the Marshal announced defiantly.

Fangs stood dumbfounded, more confused than surprised. Immediately his body began to reel as he was thrown onto his back as the Moon’s gravity suddenly surged. Fangs was knocked prone to lunar ground, stunned beyond any thought of movement. All around him lunar dust kicked up by his massive fall slowly began to drift to the ground.

But the dust was quickly thrown up again, stirred by massive shock waves reverberating from the other side of the Moon. These shocks soon left the entire plain covered in a layer of white dust.

Fangs realized the frequency of nuclear explosions on the other side of the Moon had abruptly increased several times over. Judging by the sharp increase of gravity, he could infer that the Moon’s acceleration must have increased several times as well. Rolling over, he retrieved a large hand-held computer from a pocket in the front of his spacesuit. On it he brought up the Moon’s current orbital trajectory. Immediately he realized that this tremendous increase of acceleration would take the Moon out of orbit. The Moon would break free of Earth’s gravity and shoot off into space. A flashing red line of dots showed its predicted course.

It was on collision course with the Devourer.

Discarding his computer without a second thought, Fangs slowly raised himself to his feet. Straining his neck against the explosive increase in gravity, he peered through the billowing clouds of lunar dust. Standing in front of him was Earth’s army, still upright, stalwart like standing stones.

“A century of conspiracy and deceit,” Fangs mumbled under his breath.

The Marshal just nodded in agreement. “You now realize that it is too late,” he pointed out gravely.

Fangs spoke after a long sigh. “I should have realized that the humans of Earth were a completely different breed from the Eridanians. Life on their world had evolved symbiotically, free of natural selection and of the struggle for survival. They did not even know what war was.” He halted, digesting what had happened. “We let that guide our assessment of Earth’s people. But you, you have ceaselessly butchered one another from the day that you climbed down from the trees. How should you be easily conquered? I…,” Again he paused. “It was an unforgivable dereliction of duty!”

When the Marshal spoke, his steady, level tone explained further what Fangs was realizing. “The Eridanians brought us vast quantities of vital information. The information included the limits of the Devourer’s ability to accelerate. It is this information that formed the basis of our battle plan. As we detonate the bombs that change the Moon’s trajectory, its maneuvering acceleration will come to exceed the Devourer’s acceleration limit three-fold. In other words,” he said, “it will be thrice as agile as the Devourer. There is no way that you can avoid the coming collision.”

“Actually, we were not completely off-guard,” Fangs said. “When the Earth began producing large quantities of nuclear bombs we began to constantly monitor their whereabouts. We made sure that they were installed deep within the Moon, but we did not think…” Fangs continued, but it was musing to himself than replying.

Behind his visor the Marshal smiled faintly. “We aren’t so stupid as to directly attack the Devourer with nuclear bombs,” he said. “We know that the Devourer Empire has been steeled by hundreds of battles. Earth’s simple and crude missiles would certainly have one and all been intercepted and destroyed. But you cannot intercept something as large as the Moon. Perhaps the Devourer, with its immense power, could have eventually broken or diverted the Moon, but it is far too close for that now. You are out of time.”

Fangs snarled. “Crafty worms. Treacherous worms, vicious worms.” He shook his head, bristling. “The Devourer Empire is an honest civilization. We put all things out in the open, yet we have been cheated by the deceitful treachery of the Earth-worms.” He gnashed his huge teeth as he finished speaking, his fury almost goading him to lock his giant claws around the Marshal. The soldiers and their rifles aiming right at him, however, stayed his talons. Fangs had not forgotten that his body, too, was but flesh and blood. One burst of bullets would end him.

With his eyes firmly fixed on Fangs, the Marshal stated, “We will leave and you, too, should make your way off the Moon, otherwise you will surely be killed by the Devourer Empire’s nuclear weapons.”

The Marshal was very right. Just as Fangs and the human space forces left the Moon’s surface, the interceptor missiles of the Devourer struck. Both sides of the Moon now flashed with brilliant light. The forward facing side of the Moon, too, exploded as huge waves of rocks were blasted into space. All around the Moon, lunar matter was violently scattered in all imaginable directions. Seen from the Earth, the Moon, on its collision course with the Devourer, looked like a warrior, wild hair ablaze with rage. There was no force that could have stopped it now! Wherever on Earth this spectacle was visible, seas of people erupted into feverish cheers.

The Devourer’s interception action did not continue for long and soon ceased. It realized that it had been completely meaningless. In the moments in which the Moon would close the short distance between them, there was no way to divert its course or to destroy it.

The explosions of the Moon’s nuclear propulsion had also ceased. It was now fast enough and Earth’s defenders wanted to preserve enough nuclear bombs to carry out any last minute maneuvers. All was silent.

In the cold quiet of space, the Devourer and Earth’s satellite floated toward each other in complete tranquility. The distance between the two rapidly decreased. As it dwindled to 30,000 miles, the control ship of Earth’s Supreme Command could already see the Moon overlapping the giant ring of the Devourer. From there it looked like a ball bearing in a track.

Up to this point the Devourer had not made any changes to its trajectory. It was easy to understand why: The Moon could have easily matched any premature orbital maneuver. Any meaningful evasive action would have to be taken in the final moments before the Moon’s impact. The two cosmic giants were almost like ancient knights in a joust. They were charging toward one another, galloping across the distance separating them, but the victor would only be decided in the blink-of-an-eye before they made contact.

Two great civilizations of the Milky Way held their breath in rapt anticipation, awaiting that final moment.

At 22,000 miles, both sides began their maneuvers. The Devourer’s engines were first to flare, shooting blue flames more than 5,000 miles out into space. It began its evasion. On the Moon, nuclear bombs were once again ignited, ferociously detonating with unprecedented intensity and frequency. It carried out its adjustments, matching its course to ensure a collision. Its arcing tail of debris clearly described its change of direction. The blue light of the Devourer’s 5,000 mile flames merged with the silver flashes of the Moon’s nuclear blasts; it was the most magnificent vista ever to grace the solar system.

Both sides maneuvered like this for three hours. The distance between them had already shrunk to 3,000 miles when the computer displays showed what no one in the control ship dared believe: The Devourer was changing course with an acceleration speed four times greater than the limit the Eridanians had claimed possible!

All this time they had unreservedly believed in this limit. They had made it the foundation of Earth’s victory. Now, the nuclear bombs remaining on the Moon no longer had the capacity to make the necessary adjustments to give chase. Calculations showed that in three short hours, even if they did all they could, the Moon would brush pass the Devourer, falling short by 250 miles.

One last burst of dizzying flashes washed over the control ship, exhausting all of the Earth’s nuclear bombs. At almost exactly the same moment, the Devourer’s engines fell silent. In a deathly quiet the laws of inertia told the final verses of this magnificent epic: The Moon scraped past the Devourer’s side, barely missing. Its velocity was so high that the Devourer’s gravity could not catch it, only twisting its trajectory as it zoomed past. After the Moon had passed the Devourer, it silently sped away from the Sun.

On the control ship the Supreme Command, too, fell into a deathly silence. Minutes passed.

“The Eridanians have betrayed us,” a commander finally whispered in shock.

“The crystal was probably just a trap set by the Devourer Empire!” a staff officer shouted.

In an instant the Supreme Command fell into utter chaos. All but one began to scream and shout, some to vent their utter despair, others to conceal it. All were on the verge of hysteria. A few of the non-military personnel wept; others tore the hair from their heads. Spirits stood teetering on the verge of the abyss, ready to fall forever.

Only the Marshal remained serene, standing quietly in front of a large screen. He slowly turned and with one simple question calmed the chaos. “I would ask all of you to pay attention to one detail: Why did the Devourer cut its engine?”

Pandemonium was immediately replaced by deep thought. Indeed, after the Moon had used its last nuclear bomb; the enemy had no reason to shut down its engine. They had no way of knowing whether or not there were any bombs left on the Moon. Furthermore, there was the danger of the Devourer’s gravity catching the Moon. Had the Devourer continued to accelerate, it could have easily extended the distance to the Moon’s trajectory. It could have◦— should have◦— made it farther than those tiny, barely adequate 250 miles.

“Give me a close up of the Devourer’s outer hull,” the Marshal commanded.

A holographic image was displayed on the screen. It was a picture being transmitted by a miniature, high-speed reconnaissance probe flying 300 miles above the Devourer’s surface. The splendidly illuminated surface of the Devourer came into clear view. In awe they beheld the massive steel mountains and canyons of its giant ring body slowly turn past their view. A long black seam caught the Marshal’s attention. In the past century, he had become very familiar with every detail of the Devourer’s surface, but he was absolutely certain that that gap had not existed before. Quickly others, too, noticed it.

“What is that? Is it… a crack?” someone asked.

“It is. A crack. A three thousand mile-long crack,” the Marshal said, nodding. “The Eridanians did not betray us. The data in the crystal was accurate. The acceleration limit is real, but as the Moon approached, the despairing Devourer decided to damn the consequences and to exceed it by four-fold, desperate to avoid the collision. This, however, had consequences: The Devourer has cracked.”

Then they found more cracks.

“Look, what’s going on now?” someone shouted as its rotation brought another part of Devourer’s surface into view. A dazzling bright light began glowing on the edge of its metal continent as if dawn were creeping over its vast horizon.

“The rotational engine!” an officer called out.

“Indeed. It is the rarely used equatorial rotational engine!” the Marshal explained. “It is firing at full power, trying to stop the Devourer’s rotation!”

“Marshal, you were spot on and this proves it!”

“We must act now and use all available means to gather detailed data so that we can run a simulation!” the Marshal commanded. Even as he spoke, the entire Supreme Command was already executing the task.

In the past century a mathematical model had been developed that precisely described the Devourer’s physical structure. The required data was gathered and it ran very efficiently, and so the results were quickly produced: It would take nearly 40 hours for the rotational engine to reduce the Devourer’s rotation to a speed at which it could avoid destruction. Yet, in only 18 hours the centrifugal forces would completely break it to pieces.

A cheer rose among the Supreme Command. The big screen shone with the holographic image of the Devourer’s coming demise: The process of the break up would be very slow, almost like a dream. Against the pitch-black of space, this giant world would disperse like milk foam floating on coffee, its edges gradually breaking off, only to be swallowed by darkness beyond. It looked like the Devourer was melting into space. Only the occasional flash of an explosion now revealed its disintegrating form.

The Marshal did not join the others as they watched this soul-soothing display of destruction. He stood apart from the group, focused at another screen, carefully observing the real Devourer. His face betrayed no trace of triumph. As calm returned to the bridge, the others began to take notice of him. One after the other they joined him at the screen. There they quickly discovered that the blue light at the Devourer’s aft had reappeared.

The Devourer had restarted its engine.

Given the critical state the ring structure was already in, this seemed like an utterly unfathomable mistake. Any acceleration, no matter how minute, could cause a catastrophic breakup. But it was the Devourer’s trajectory that truly baffled the onlookers: It was ever so slowly retracing its steps, returning to the position it had held before its evasive maneuvers. It was carefully reestablishing its synchronous orbit and re-aligning its axis of rotation with Earth’s.

“What? Does it still want to devour the Earth?” an officer exclaimed, both shocked and confused.

His question provoked a few scattered laughs. All laughter, however, soon fell silent as the others became aware of the look on the Marshal’s face. He was no longer looking at the screen. His eyes were closed. His face was blank and drained of all color. In the past hundred years, the officers and personnel who had made fending off the Devourer a pillar of their soul had become very familiar with the Marshal’s countenance. They had never seen him like this. A calm fell over the gathered Supreme Command as they turned back to the screen. Finally they understood the gravity of the situation.

There was a way out for the Devourer.

The Devourer’s flight toward the Earth had begun. It had already matched the Earth in both orbital speed and rotation as it approached the planet’s South Pole.

If it took too long, the Devourer’s own centrifugal forces would tear it apart; if it went too fast, the power of its propulsion would rip it to pieces. The Devourer’s survival was hanging on a thin thread. It had to hold to a perfect balance between timing and speed.

Before the Earth’s South Pole was enveloped by the Devourer’s giant ring, the Supreme Command could see the shape of the frozen continent change rapidly. Antarctica was shrinking, like butter in a hot frying pan. The world’s oceans were being pulled toward the South Pole by the immense gravity of the Devourer and now the Earth’s white tip was being swallowed by their billowing waters.

As this happened, the Devourer, too, was changing. Many new cracks began to cover its body, and all of them were growing longer and wider. The first few tears were now no longer black seams, but gaping chasms glowing with crimson light. They could easily have been mistaken for thousands of miles-long portals to Hell.

In the midst of all this destruction, a few fine white strands rose from the ring’s massive body. Then, more and more of these filaments emerged, flowing from every part of the Devourer’s body. It almost looked like the huge ship had sprouted a sparse head of white hair. In fact, they were the engine trails of ships being launched from the great ring. The Devourers were fleeing their doomed world.

Half of the Earth had already been encircled by the Devourer when things took a turn for the worse: The Earth’s gravity was acting almost like the invisible spokes of a cosmic wheel, bearing the disintegrating Devourer. No new cracks were appearing on its surface and the already open rips had ceased growing. Forty hours later, the Earth had been completely engulfed by the Devourer. The effect of the planet’s gravity was stronger here and the cracks on the Devourer’s surface were beginning to close. Another five hours later, they had completely closed.

In the control ship, all the screens of the Supreme Command had gone black and even the lights went dark. The only remaining source of illumination was the deathly pale rays of the Sun piercing through the portholes. In order to generate artificial gravity, the mid-section of the ship was still slowly rotating. As it did, the Sun rose and fell, porthole to porthole. Light and shadow wandered, as if it were replaying humanity’s forever bygone days and nights.

“Thank you for a century of dutiful service,” the Marshal said. “Thank you all.” He saluted the Supreme Command. Under the gaze of the officers and personnel, he calmly folded up his uniform. The others followed his example.

Humanity had been defeated. The defenders of Earth had done their utmost to discharge their duties and as soldiers they had still done their duty gloriously. In spirit, they all accepted their unseen medals with clear conscience. They were entitled to enjoy this moment.

CHAPTER 8 Epilogue: The Return

“There really is water!” a young lieutenant shouted with joyous surprise. It was true; a vast surface of water stretched out before them. Sparkling waves shimmered under the dusky heavens.

The Marshal removed the gloves of his spacesuit. With both hands he scooped up some water. Opening his visor, he ventured a taste. As he quickly closed his visor again, he said, “Hey, it’s not too salty.” When he saw that the lieutenant was about to open his own visor, he stopped him. “You’ll suffer decompression sickness. The composition of the atmosphere is actually not the problem; the poisonous sulfuric components in the air have already thinned out. However, the atmospheric pressure is too low. Without a visor it is like being at thirty thousand was before the war.”

A general dug in the sand at his feet. “Maybe there’s some grass seeds,” he said, smiling as he raised his head to look at the Marshal.

The Marshal shook his head as he replied. “Before the war, this was the bottom of the ocean.”

“We can go have a look at New Land Eleven. It’s not far from here. Maybe we can find some there,” the lieutenant suggested

“Any will have been long ago burned,” someone said with a sigh.

Each of them scanned the horizon in all directions. They were surrounded by an unbroken chain of mountains only recently born by the orogenic movements of the Earth. They were dark blue massifs made of bare rock. Rivers of magma spilling from their peaks glowed crimson, like blood oozing from the body of slain stone titan.

The magma rivers of the Earth below had burned out.

This was Earth, 230 years after the war.

After the war had ended, the more than 100 people aboard the control ship had entered the hibernation chambers. There they waited for the Devourer to spit out the Earth; then they would return home. During their wait their ship had become a satellite, circling the new joint planet of Devourer and Earth in a wide orbit. In all that time, the Devourer Empire had done nothing to harass them.

One-hundred-twenty-five years after the war, the command ship’s sensors picked up that the Devourer was in the process of leaving the Earth. In response, it roused some of those in hibernation. When they woke, the Devourer had already left the Earth and flown on to Venus. The Earth had been transformed into a wholly alien world, a strange planet, perhaps best described as a lump of charcoal freshly out of the oven. The oceans had all disappeared and the land was covered in a web of magma rivers.

The personnel of the control ship could only continue their hibernation. They reset their sensors and waited for the Earth to cool. This wait lasted another century.

When they again woke from hibernation, they found a cooled planet, its violent geology having subsided; but now the Earth was a desolate, yellow wasteland. Even though all life had disappeared, there was still a sparse atmosphere. They even discovered remnants of the oceans of old.

So, they landed at the shore of such a remnant, barely the size of a pre-war continental lake.

A blast of thunder, deafening in this thin atmosphere, roared above them as the so familiar crude form of a Devourer Empire ship landed not far from their own vessel. Its gigantic doors opened and Fangs took his first tottering steps out, leaning heavily on a walking stick the size of a power pole.

“Ah, you are still alive, sir!” the Marshal greeted him. “You must be around five hundred now?”

“How could I live that long? I, too, went into hibernation, thirty years after the war. I hibernated just so I could see you again,” Fangs retorted.

“Where is the Devourer now?” the Marshal asked.

Fangs pointed into the sky above as he answered. “You can still see it at night; it is but a dim star now, just having passed Jupiter’s orbit.”

“It is leaving the solar system?” the Marshal queried.

Fangs nodded. “I will set out today to follow it.”

The Marshal paused before speaking. “We are both old now.”

Fangs sadly nodded his giant head. “Old…” he said, his walking stick trembling in his hand. “The world, now…” he continued pointing from heaven to Earth.

“A small amount of water and atmosphere remains. Should we consider this an act of mercy of the Devourer Empire?” the Marshal asked quietly.

Fangs shook his head. “It has nothing to do with mercy; it is your doing.”

The Earth’s soldiers looked at Fangs in puzzlement.

“Oh, in this war the Devourer Empire suffered an unprecedented wound. We lost hundreds of millions in those tears,” Fangs admitted. “Our ecosystem, too, suffered critical damage. After the war, it took us fifty Earth years just to complete preliminary repairs and only once that was done could we begin to chew the Earth. But we knew that our time in the solar system was limited. If we did not leave in time, a cloud of interstellar dust would float right into our flight path. And if we took the long way round, we would lose seventeen thousand years on our way to the next star. In that time the star’s state will have already changed, burning the planets that we wish to eat. Because of this we had to chew the planets of the Sun in great haste and we could not pick them clean,” Fangs explained.

“That fills us with great comfort and honor,” the Marshal said, looking at the soldiers surrounding him.

“You are most worthy of it. It truly was a great interstellar war. In the lengthy annals of the Devourer’s wars, ours was one of the most remarkable battles! To this day, all throughout our world, minstrels sing of the epic achievements of the Earth’s soldiers,” Fangs stated.

“We would more hope that humanity would remember the war. So, how is humanity?” the Marshal queried.

“After the war, approximately two billion humans were migrated to the Devourer Empire, about half of all of humanity,” Fangs answered, activating the large screen of his portable computer. On it pictures of life on the Devourer appeared. The screen revealed a beautiful grassland under blue skies. On the grass a group of happy humans was singing and dancing. For a while it was difficult to distinguish the sex of these humans. Their skin was a soft, subtle white. They were all dressed in fine, gauzy clothes and on their heads they all wore beautiful wreathes of flowers. In the distance one could make out a magnificent castle, its appearance clearly modeled on something from an Earth fairytale. Its vibrant colors made it look as if it were made of cream and chocolate.

The camera’s lens drew closer, giving the Marshal a chance to study these people’s countenance in detail. He was soon completely convinced that they were truly happy. It was an utterly carefree happiness, pure as crystal. It reminded him of the few short years of innocent childhood joy that pre-war humans had experienced.

“We must ensure their absolute happiness,” Fangs said. “It is the minimum requirement for raising them. If we do not, we cannot guarantee the quality of their meat. And it must be said that the Earth people are seen as food of the highest quality; only the upper class of the Devourer Empire society can afford to enjoy them. We do not take such delicacies for granted.” Fangs paused for a moment. “Oh, Marshal. We found your great-grandson, sir. We recorded something from him to you. Do you care to see it?”

The Marshal glimpsed at Fangs in surprise, then nodded his head.

A tender-skinned, beautiful boy appeared on the screen. Judging by his face he was only 10-years-old, but his stature was already that of a grown man. He held a flower wreathe in his feminine hands, having obviously just been called from a dance.

Blinking his large, shimmering eyes, he said, “I hear that my great-grandfather still lives. Then I ask only one thing of you, sir. Never, ever come see me! I am nauseated! When we think of humanity’s life before the war we are all nauseated! What a barbaric life that was, the life of cockroaches! You and your soldiers of Earth wanted to preserve that life! You almost stopped humanity from entering this beautiful heaven! How perverse! Do you know how much shame, how much embarrassment you have caused me? Bah! Do not come looking for me! Bah! Go and die!” After he had finished, he skipped to join the dancing on the grassland.

Fangs was first to break the awkward silence that followed. “He will live past the age of sixty. He will have a long life and will not be slaughtered.”

“If it should have anything to do with me, then I am truly grateful,” the Marshal said, smiling miserably.

“It does not. After learning about his ancestry, he became very depressed and filled with feelings of hate toward you. Such emotions prevent his meat from meeting the standards,” Fangs explained.

As Fangs looked at these last few humans before him, genuine emotions played across his massive eyes. Their spacesuits were extremely old and shabby and the many years past were etched into their faces. In the pale yellow of the Sun they looked like a group of rust-stained statues. Fangs closed his computer and, full of regret, said, “At first I did not want you to see this, but you are all true warriors, well capable of dealing with the truth, ready to recognize,” he paused for a long while before continuing “that human civilization has come to an end.”

“You certainly destroyed Earth’s civilization,” the Marshal said staring into the distance. “You have committed a monstrous crime!”

“We finally have started to talk about morals again,” Fangs said with a laugh and a grin.

“When you invaded our home and after you brutally devoured everything in it, I would think that you lost all rights to talk about morals,” the Marshal said coldly.

The others had already stopped paying attention; the extreme, cold brutality of the Devourer civilization was just beyond human understanding. Nothing could have been less interesting to them than to engage them in an exchange about morals.

“No, we have the right. I now truly wish to talk about morals with humanity,” Fangs said before again pausing. “‘How, sir, could you just pick him up and eat him?’” he continued, quoting the then Captain. Those last words left nobody unshaken. They did not emanate from the translator, but came directly from Fangs’ mouth. Even though his voice was deafening, Fangs somehow managed to imitate those 300-year-old words with perfection.

Fangs continued, returning to the use of his translator. “Marshal, three hundred years ago your intuition did not mislead you: When two civilizations◦— separated by interstellar space◦— meet, any similarities should be far more shocking than their differences. It certainly shouldn’t be as it is with our species.”

As all present focused their gaze on Fangs’ frame, they were overcome with a sense of premonition that a world-shaking mystery was about to be revealed.

Fangs straightened himself on his walking-stick and, looking into the distance, said, “Friends, we are both children of the Sun; and while the Earth is both our species’ fraternal home, my people have the greater claim to her! Our claim is one-hundred-forty million years older than yours. All those millennia ago, we were the first to live on this beautiful planet and here we established our magnificent civilization.”

The Earth’s soldiers stared blankly at Fangs. The waters of the remnant ocean rippled in the pale of the yellow sunlight. Red magma flowed from the distant new mountains. Sixty million years down the rivers of time, two species, each the ruler of this Earth in their own time, met in desolation on their plundered home world.

“Dino… saur…,” someone exclaimed in shocked whispers.

Fangs nodded. “The Dinosaur Civilization arose one-hundred million years ago on Earth, during what you call the Cretaceous period of the Mesozoic. At the end of the Cretaceous, our civilization reached its zenith, but we are a large species and our biological needs were equally great. In the wake of our population explosion, the ecosystem was stretched to its limit and the Earth was pushed to its brink as it struggled to support our society. To survive we completely consumed Mars’ elementary ecosystem.

“The Dinosaur Civilization lasted twenty thousand years on Earth,” he continued, “but its true expansion was a matter of a few thousand years. From a geological perspective, its effects are indistinguishable from those of an explosive catastrophe; what you call the Cretaceous–Tertiary extinction event.

“Finally, one day all the Dinosaurs boarded ten giant generation ships and with these ships sailed into the vast sea of stars. In the end, all these ten ships were joined together. Then, whenever this newly united ship reached another star’s planet, it expanded. Now, sixty million years later, it has become the Devourer Empire you know.”

“Why would you eat your own home world? Are Dinosaurs bereft of all sentimentality?” someone asked.

Fangs answered, lost in thought. “It is a long story. Interstellar space is indeed vast and boundless, but it is also different than you would imagine. The places that truly suit us, as advanced carbon-based life-forms, are few and far between. A dust cloud blocks the way to the center of the Milky Way just two thousand light years from here. There is no way for us to pass through it and no way for us to survive in it. And after it comes an area of powerful radiation and a large group of wandering black holes.” Fangs paused, before continuing, still speaking more to himself than the humans before him. “If we should travel in the opposite direction, we would just come to the end of the spiral arm and then, not far beyond, nothing but a limitless, desolate void. The Devourer Empire has already completely consumed almost all the planets that could be found in the habitable areas that exist between these two barriers. Now, the only way out is to fly to another arm of the Milky Way. We have no idea what awaits us there, but if we stay here we will certainly be doomed. It will be a journey of fifteen million years, taking us right through the void. To survive it we must build large stocks of all possible expendables.

“Right now, the Devourer Empire is just like a fish in a drying stream. It must make a desperate leap before its water completely evaporates. It realizes that the most likely end is a landing on dry land and death under the scorching Sun; but there is the slight chance that it may fall into a neighboring water hole and so survive.” Fangs lowered his gaze toward the humans to near eye-level. “As far as sentimentality is concerned, we have lived through tens of millions of arduous years and fought stellar wars beyond number. The hearts of the Dinosaur race have long since petrified. Now the Devourer Empire must consume as much as it possibly can in preparation for our million-year journey.” Fangs again paused, deep in thought. “What is civilization? Civilization is devouring, ceaselessly eating, endlessly expanding; everything else comes second.”

The Marshal, too, was deep in thought. Looking at Fangs, he questioned, “Can the struggle for existence be the universe’s only law of biological and cultural evolution? Can we not establish a self-sufficient, introspective civilization where all life exists in symbiosis? A civilization like that of the Eridanians.”

Fangs answered without hesitation or pause. “I am no philosopher; perhaps it can be done. The crux is, who will take the first step? If one’s survival is based on the subjugation and consumption of others and if that should be the universe’s iron law of life and civilization, then whoever first rejects it in favor of introspection will certainly perish.”

With that Fangs returned to his spaceship, but he re-emerged, now carrying a thin and flat box in both talons. The box was about ten-foot square and it would have easily taken four men to carry. Fangs placed the box on the ground and opened its top. To the humans’ surprise, the box was filled with earth and grass was growing on it. On this lifeless world, its green left no heart untouched.

As Fangs opened the box, he turned to the humans. “This is pre-war soil. After the war, I put all of its plants and all of its insects into suspended animation. Now, after more than two centuries, they have awoken beside me. Originally, I wanted to take this soil with me as a memento. Alas, I thought about it and I have changed my mind. I have decided to return it to where it truly belongs. We have taken more than enough from our home world.”

As they gazed upon this tiny piece of Earth, so full of life, the humans’ eyes began to moisten. They now knew the dinosaurs’ hearts had not turned to stone. Behind those scales colder and crueler than steel and rock, beat a heart that longed for home.

Fangs shook his claws, almost as if he wanted to cast off the emotions that had gripped him. Slightly shaken, he said, “All right then, my friends, we will go together, back to the Devourer Empire.” Seeing the expression on the humans’ face, he raised a claw and continued. “You will, of course, not be food there. You are great warriors and you will be made citizens of the Empire. And there is still work that needs your attention: Build a museum of the human civilization.”

The eyes of every single Earth soldier turned to the Marshal. He stood deep in thought, then slowly nodded.

One after the other, the Earth’s soldiers boarded Fangs’ spaceship. Because its ladder was intended for Dinosaurs, they had to pull their entire body up each rung to climb inside. The Marshal was the last human to board the ship. Holding to the lowest rung of the ship’s ladder, he pulled his body off the ground. Just at that moment something in the ground beneath his feet caught his eye. He stopped in mid-pull, looking down. For a long time he hung there, motionless.

He had seen… an ant.

The ant had climbed out of that box of soil. Never losing sight of the tiny insect, the Marshal let go of the ladder and squatted down. Lowering his hand, he let the ant clamber onto his glove. Raising it to his face, he carefully studied the small creature. Its obsidian body glinted in the sunlight. Holding it, the Marshal walked over to the box. There he cautiously returned the ant to the tiny blades of grass. As he lowered his hand he noticed more ants climbing about the soil beneath the grass.

Raising himself, he turned to Fangs who was standing right by his side. “When we leave, this grass and these ants will be the dominant species on Earth.”

Fangs was at a loss for words.

“Earth’s civilized life seems to be getting smaller and smaller. Dinosaurs, humans and now probably, ants,” the Marshal said, returning to his squat. He looked on, his eyes deep with love and admiration as he watched these small beings live their lives in the grass. “It is their turn.”

As he spoke, the Earth’s soldiers reemerged from the spaceship. Climbing down to Earth, they returned to the box of living soil. Standing around it they, too, were filled with deep love.

Fangs shook his head. “The grass cannot survive. It might even rain, here at the seaside, but it won’t do for the ants.”

“Is the atmosphere too thin? They seem to being doing just fine at the moment,” someone noted.

“No, the air is not the problem. They are not like humans and can live well in this atmosphere. The real crux of the matter is that they will have nothing to eat,” Fangs replied.

“Can’t they eat the grass?” another voice joined in.

“And then? How will they live on? In this thin air the grass will grow very slowly. Once the ants have eaten all the blades, they will starve. In many ways their situation mirrors the destiny of the Devourer civilization,” Fangs mused.

“Can you leave behind some food from your spaceship for them?” another soldier asked, almost pleaded.

Fangs again shook his massive head. “There is nothing in my spaceship besides water and the hibernation system. On that note, we will hibernate until we catch up with the Devourer. But what about your spaceship, do you have any food onboard?”

Now it was the Marshal’s turn to shake his head. “Nothing but a few injections of nourishment solution; useless.”

Pointing to the spaceship, Fangs interrupted the discussion. “We must hurry. The Empire is accelerating quickly. If we tarry, we will not catch up.”

Silence.

“Marshal, we will stay behind.” It was the young lieutenant who broke the silence.

The Marshal forcefully nodded.

“Stay behind? What are you up to?” Fangs asked in astonishment, turning from one to the other. “The hibernation equipment on your spaceship is almost completely depleted and you have no food. Do you plan to stay and wait for death?”

“Staying will be the first step,” the Marshal calmly answered.

“What?” the ever more perplexed Fangs asked.

“You just mentioned the first step toward a new civilization,” the Marshal explained.

“You,” Fangs could hardly believe his own words, “want to be ants’ food?”

Earth’s soldiers all nodded. Fangs wordlessly gazed at them for what seemed like forever, before turning and slowly hobbling back to his spaceship, heavily leaning on his walking stick.

“Farewell, friend,” the Marshal shouted after Fangs.

Fangs replied with a long, drawn-out sigh. “An interminable darkness lies before me and my descendants; the darkness of endless war and a vast universe. Oh, where in it could there be a home for us?”

As he spoke, the humans saw that the ground beneath his feet had moistened, but they could not tell if he could, or did, shed tears.

With a thunderous roar the Dinosaur’s spaceship lifted off and quickly disappeared into the sky. Where it had disappeared, the Sun was now setting.

The last warriors of Earth seated themselves around the living soil in silence. Then, beginning with the Marshal, they all, one by one, opened their visors and laid their bodies on the sandy earth.

As time passed, the Sun set. Its afterglow bathed the plundered Earth in a beautiful red. As it faded, a few stars began to twinkle in the sky. To his surprise, the Marshal saw that the dusky sky was a beautiful blue. Just as the thin atmosphere began to deprive him of his consciousness, the Marshal felt the tiny movements of an ant on his temple, filling him with a deep sense of contentment. As the ant climbed up to his forehead, he was transported back to his so very distant childhood. He was at the beach, lying in a small hammock that hung between two palm trees. Looking up to the splendid sea of stars above, he felt his mother’s hand gently stroke his forehead…

Darkness fell. The remnant ocean lay flat as a mirror, pristinely reflecting the Milky Way above. It was the most tranquil night in the planet’s history.

In this tranquility, the Earth was reborn.