We may conjecture that there is a filter at some stage of development that most life does not survive. This filter could consist of a natural catastrophe, a technological disaster, or a process of selection that eliminates expanding civilizations. The fact that we do not observe signs of extraterrestrial intelligence suggests that such a filter is extremely effective.

  Nick Bostrom - Existential Risks: Analyzing Human Extinction Scenarios and Related Hazards, 135 B.I.

  ‘It’s the end of the world as we know it, it’s the end…’

  Tech Paul Kim was annoyed. Not only was he hanging weightless inside Sensor Station 51/S/341-D somewhere on the outskirts of the Solar System, but he also had to endure the abysmal taste in music of his colleague, Volodymyr.

  Even worse, Tech Kovalenko had the horrible tendency to blast his infernal classical music loudly over the intercom of their Field Service Sleipnir.

  “Join the Aligned Navy, the biggest adventure of your life, bah, one month rotation on servicing stupid sensor stations.” Paul was fed up. While he checked the gravimetric shockwave sensors that announced the approach of incoming ships, he regretted ever having enlisted.

  “Did you say something, Paul?” Volodymyr called over from the computer core. Paul resented his new partner. Not that the guy was a bad worker or colleague, but his taste in music was annoying, and he had replaced Tech Julia Meyers.

  Paul and Julia had found a relaxing way to pass the long stretches of travel between the stations. A very relaxing and refreshing way. But she had gotten a new post on one of the new battlecruisers the dry docks pushed out like a printer.

  “Nothing. Are you ready to bring this puppy back online?” There was no use arguing about the music. He had already tried.

  “Sure, go ahead. I’ll go down to the reactor and monitor the output.”

  Monitoring the reactor output was usually Paul’s job, but he had injured his neck at the last station, so Volodymyr had volunteered to crawl into the tight space between the nuclear batteries everyone just called the reactor, even if it wasn’t one.

  Those first-generation sensor stations were claustrophobic and built like those ancient space stations he had seen in history movies.

  Small, crammed tubes, stuck together with docking rings, and filled with computers or maintenance boards on every surface.

  Sadly, the process of installing new ones had stalled due to the war and scarce resources.

  So Field Service teams had to fly out and install the new paired-particle comm racks to allow instant communication and perform scheduled maintenance. Station 51/S/341-D was one of the oldest and the last to receive p-p communication equipment.

  Paul observed as Volodymyr turned with elegance inside the white, chaotic but functional computer core and glided into the reactor segment.

  The thought of living inside such a tin can for more than a day made Paul anxious.

  All comm terminals in front of him lit up. They had a connection to the Central Sol Warning and Alert System (C-SWAS).

  Finally.

  Now they could leave this godforsaken place and fly home. Well, their present home is at Styx Station. He smiled. Maybe there was still a chance to meet Julia there. For some relaxing…

  Paul was ripped out of his fantasy by the station’s alarms. Then the whole station moved around him.

  “What the hell was that?” Volodymyr shouted, his voice edged with pain, from the reactor segment.

  “No clue, checking now.” Paul moved to a system monitor and checked the station’s alignment. His blood froze.

  The station rotated at 1.3 degrees per second around its center axis and was accelerating outward from the system.

  He heard the stabilization gyros spin up in an attempt to correct it, but to no avail.

  Some external power source must still be present.

  “Paul, help me, I can’t leave the module.”

  Of course. Even with the low rotation, there was now artificial gravity inside the reactor module since it was offset from the center axis. The constructors had never planned for such a thing, so there were no ladders.

  They had an umbilical cord in their gear, in case they had to leave the station on EVA. Paul grabbed the cord and moved over to the hatch that connected his module with the computer core and the reactor module.

  He looked down. Due to the sudden rotation, Volodymyr was stuck six meters below him.

  “I’ve got the cord.”

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Volodymyr looked up, thankful for the rescue. Paul could see that his leg must be hurt. It was stretched unnaturally.

  Just as he was about to drop the cord, air rushed around him, and the whole reactor module was ripped away from the hatch.

  The last thing he saw of Volodymyr was the shock and helplessness in his eyes.

  His hand stretched out in a hopeless attempt to catch his partner. Paul’s ears popped as the station lost its atmosphere. The integrated emergency helmet of his suit unfolded, saving him from suffocation.

  Then he saw it.

  At first, he thought it was a small dwarf planet. Then he noticed the lights.

  “What in God’s name?”

  A ship. It had to be a ship. Nothing else was out there for half an AU, and it was massive.

  It was spherical. The hull was pocked with meteoroid impacts and partially cracked. The metal looked almost rocklike due to oxidation and dust abrasion.

  The reactor module drifted toward the ship, and something else… their Sleipnir.

  He was trapped.

  The lights from the alien ship moved closer. It took a second for Paul’s brain to recognize they weren’t lights, but some sort of parasite craft or drones.

  Two attached themselves to the reactor module. Two to the Sleipnir. Two more came straight for his part of the station.

  He felt the vibration as they connected to the hull. For a short moment, he felt them accelerating more and more, until he lost consciousness.

  —————

  Picking the last bits of sesame kernels out of her teeth, Tech Ouyang Li returned to her monitoring station for the C-SWAS system.

  Perfectly on time after her thirty-minute break, she sat down and logged back in. Being on time, taking her work seriously, all of those things were second nature to her.

  Her job was important. She and her colleagues were Sol’s watchful eyes. Her Station was the Watchtower, protecting Sol from the horrors beyond.

  That was why she kicked her neighbor in the shin when he was sleeping again at his station.

  “Wake up, you lǎn guǐ.”*

  His head hit the corner of his station, and he moaned, “Fuck off, Li. Everything is automated here anyway!”

  Li had to force herself not to curse further in her mother tongue. Christoph was the personification of laziness and unprofessionalism.

  “Why do you even work here when you don’t take it seriously?”

  Just as Christoph was about to answer, her station received a ping indicating an irregularity that required a human operator to check.

  Sensor Station 51/S/341-D went dark after initially coming online following scheduled maintenance and an upgrade. She scanned the logs and tapped her fingers on the metal of her station.

  Around her, other operators began to look over. Her tapping was a known signal that she had found something.

  “Forget it, Li. Look, they had just installed a new p-p comm system. It probably just malfunctioned.”

  “Qù nǐ de.” ** The last thing she needed right now was Christoph mocking her work ethic. The VI system had flagged this as an irregularity worth checking, so it was her job to check it.

  There. The logs indicated a short but massive gravity wave before the station went offline. Just as if a large fleet had left transit.

  But that wasn’t possible. The other stations should have noticed any fleet on course for Sol.

  She checked the p-p line to the team’s Sleipnir. It was dead.

  Christoph, who had been monitoring her work over her shoulder, let out a sharp, “Fuck.”

  While she notified her supervisor of the incident, she couldn’t hold her resentment back. “Just a malfunction, Jiù zhè?” ***

  “Yeah, you were right. Keep it down.” With a calming wave of his hand, Christoph finally went back to his station.

  Li had to confess to herself that he was kind of cute, but she didn’t like men with his lazy work ethic.

  Around her, the lights dimmed to a red hue. From outside the control center doors, she could hear alarms ringing.

  On her station, more pings appeared, all in the vicinity of Sensor Station 51/S/341-D. Something massive was moving out there.

  ———

  Three days had passed since Styx Station had sent a warning about suspicious gravity waves on the outskirts of the system.

  Admiral Browner stood in the CIC of his flagship, the Argos, reading the latest reports.

  The 21st Patrol Group was the closest to the signal, and he had ordered them to check it out. The signal hadn’t moved further into the system, and the scientists were unsure about its nature.

  Some even assumed it could be a primordial black hole. They were dreaming, as far as Browner was concerned.

  He felt it in his stomach. It was something dangerous. He was sure of it, for the simple reason that now would be the worst possible moment for something bad to happen.

  “Lyra, when do we expect the 21st Group to be in close sensor proximity?”

  We should be receiving the first sensor logs in a few minutes.

  “Put all streams from the Patrol Group on the screens.”

  For Browner, the inventors of p-p communication deserved a statue in the Hall of Admirals, as soon as it was rebuilt.

  Defending a system at light lag was a logistical horror, but now he could see live images of his Patrol Group light-hours away. Using system relays, he could even watch Admiral Sanders’ fleet light-years distant.

  Around the newly designed CIC, holoscreens and holotanks activated, allowing him and his officers to observe the five-ship strong patrol group flying closer to the signal’s origin.

  Behind him, a sensor tech monitored the Patrol Group's feed.

  “Sir, the gravity waves are becoming clearer. Estimated size, seventy-five kilometers radius. The estimated mass of the signal is fourteen quadrillion tons. Estimated course… calculating.”

  “Thanks. Thoughts, anyone?” He wasn’t addressing anyone in particular, but he hoped the engineers and astrophysicists watching via video link had an idea. Any idea what the signal was.

  A symbol indicated that one of the linked astrophysics specialists wanted to speak. Doctor Vauban, aboard the Magellan.

  “Sir, the mass—fourteen quadrillion tons with a radius of seventy-five kilometers—matches an iron-rich asteroid with its own small gravity well, not an enemy fleet. So either we detected a new asteroid, or—Gods help us—a ship of enormous size appeared out of nowhere.”

  While he watched the astrophysicist explain the math on one screen, a flash appeared on the others. Then nothing.

  “Sir, the signal to the Patrol Group is lost. I can’t reach any transmitter.”

  The whole CIC went silent. Everyone present and connected via link knew what that meant. The patrol group was lost. p-p transmitters were reachable even after total power loss.

  Admiral, we received 2.5 frames of video from a googly eye before it went dark. They could provide valuable insight.

  Lyra put the still images on the central holotank.

  A spherical object appeared in the first image. It had a dark, brownish hull. No visible front or back. No visible engines.

  The sphere's hull was pocked with impact craters and seemed somewhat ancient. It almost looked broken, but still impressive.

  One side had a large part of the outer hull missing, revealing a dizzying array of struts and machines working beneath it.

  The next frame showed a dark line coming out of the sphere directly toward the Patrol Group.

  Fragments of the last frame showed the sphere's surface, now much closer. It was comprised of shipwrecks. Hundreds of them, crushed together.

  Admiral Browner leaned back in his seat at the situation table, still fixated on the utterly alien-looking ship.

  “Alert the fleet.”

  ———————

  Translation

  * - lǎn guǐ → “Lazy ghost”

  ** - Qù nǐ de. → “Screw you.” / “Get outta here.”

  *** Jiù zhè? → “That’s it?” / “Really?”