My name is Grand Cenobite Sumar Krix, a humble cyberpriest of the righteous Slane Theocratic Alliance. I know not whether such honors will hold any meaning for those that happen upon these words… observing humanity’s fascination with history and the reverence by which they preserve their past, I am hopeful that, though my Alliance and the souls bound to it seem doomed to slip into the quiet shroud of extinction, our memory might endure… though perhaps only as a footnote in human museums and digital archives. I write this testament from sector KZ-34a, once known to the galaxy as Xuonia, the crown jewel of Slanian space… a realm rich in mineral-dense asteroids and habitable worlds, where the prosperity of commerce flowed like water along thriving hyperlanes, all beneath the gentle gaze of a temperate, idyllic star. I am told that, in Human common, “Xuonia” translates to “Sanctuary” or “Refuge”... the irony of this name is not lost, as what was once the most bountiful and vibrant cradle of Slanian colonized space has been relegated to one of only a few dozen “Human-Free Zones”, a small concession amongst the many Terran treaties.
And it is from this “Sanctuary”, this “Refuge” from the all-consuming tide of Terran expansion, that I offer my final proclamation. I speak from what will surely be my deathbed… by the grace of The Goddess, I have been granted a long and righteous existence, spanning well over 300 cycles, and I find myself neither saddened nor frightened as I contemplate its final chapter. I am, however, unsettled by the certainty that my people, our Alliance, our very way of life, is likely not far behind my own passing. Yet, in spite of the Elders’ lamentations, I have come to accept what has transpired… The Goddess does not err, and it is by Her glorious machines that humanity has come to occupy the galaxy, aided in no small part by our own well-intentioned meddling. If it is Her will that the Terrans should have dominion – whether by righteous manifestation of Her grand design or as karmic retribution for our own hubris – I have no choice but to accept that the future is Human. I wish only that my testimony endures; for by Her prophetic will, I have borne witness to the events that lead to the Human infestation, and am in no small part responsible for what followed. A mere 60 cycles ago, what I confess now may have condemned the entire Slane Alliance to galactic sanctions and scorn… perhaps, in the irony of the cycles to come, the Humans will see fit to canonize us as Saints in one of their many religions. No matter what the coming darkness may hold, all I wish now is to unburden myself of this tale, and hope that posthumously it may leave something by which we will be remembered, by which the Humans will know and honor what we gave them, and what it has cost.
To begin, I feel I must describe the galaxy as it was but a short 150 cycles ago. Vast, untamed, beautiful… Each of the roughly thirty sentient, spacefaring lineages had woven for themselves a place in the galactic tapestry, each carved out a niche in our vast community. From the unrivaled creative spirit found in the Alimin Hegemony sprung music, art, and poetry… The Indari Cooperative, possessing amongst its races a collective genius intellect bordering on blasphemous, probed ever deeper into the laws of physics and mathematics, unraveling the mysteries of reality… The masterful command of bureaucracy and skilful dance of negotiation from the Autocratic Lunnuk Convention formed the sturdy foundation of galactic governance and political harmony… the United Planets Corporation, chaired by its founding race, the silver tongued Kaspara-Tosh, kept the lifeblood of trade and commerce flowing between the stars… even the odd and isolated Grenzel people, as a natural byproduct of their biology, produced a waste product that many other sentients considered a delicacy; a fact which, much to the horror of the Grenzeli, nevertheless yielded them great profit. And of course, the Slane Theocratic Alliance – the Six Anointed Peoples, who by sacred duty spread both the word of the Goddess and knowledge of her glorious machines. None understood the scripture of binary, the hymnal whirring of divine circuitry, better than we, Her chosen children.
To each race was granted a singular purpose, and from each, contributions to the singular, flourishing unity of the galactic community. I find myself now repeating the teachings of schoolchildren, lessons learned by most sentients in adolescence… However, I must remind myself that you, dear reader, are likely Human, if the future of the galaxy has followed its current course. And, it is likely that you have not been taught what is to follow, if only for the sole reason that you and your people appear to be the exception, and have caused the following wisdom to change its course . You see, before the Terran expansion, it was known by pure common sense – the galaxy is large. Incredibly so. It is true that many sentient races possess the same competitive nature… an evolutionary holdover from when each species had to fight for resources on their home world, to fend off predators, to compete with other tribes, other species… whatever the case may be, one does not become the dominant life form on any world without a healthy drive for competition, expansion, and consumption. However, upon escaping the gravitational shackles of their terrestrial cradle, each race soon finds themselves in good company, amongst this harmony of galactic society, and wonders… is there no war? No struggle? No competition?
And of course, war is not some strange forgotten word… but the wars of the galaxy are small and, for the most part, ceremonial. Disagreements in policy, ideology, rhetoric, and the like. But that competition that drove each and every one of us to dominate our home worlds is largely obsolete on a galactic scale… unlike a single planet, or even a single star system, the galaxy is vast enough to provide for all in abundance. There is no competition for territory, as neighbors are separated by light years, and borders drawn through vast unfathomable swathes of dark emptiness. There is no competition for resources, as any species competent enough to escape their star has necessarily learned to harvest the plentiful bounty of the galaxy, to pull energy from stars and materials from asteroids, to mine uninhabited planets for heavier elements… The galaxy is a cornucopia of plenty that none could run dry. If another race occupies space that you covet, there are uncountable equivalent sectors awaiting colonization, separated only by a brief jump across hyperlanes. If another has resources that you desire, one cannot fly for two systems without tripping over an immeasurable windfall of identical riches. So, soon after joining the galactic community and seeing the way of things, all races eventually abandon those competitive expansionist desires… the galaxy is simply too large to fill, and too plentiful to fight over. At least, so we thought.
Enter, Humanity. The youngest race to join the galaxy, aged only a few hundred thousand cycles. They… or you, I suppose, if this is indeed being read by our Human successors, had first traveled to your own lunar satellite not but 200 cycles ago. Your progress was impressive in such a short time, crude as your vessels were as they came stuttering and shaking through hyperspace… I am drawn to an expression from a Human companion of mine that I find very pertinent, “held together by duct tape and prayer”. Why, you had not even managed to notice the hyperlanes carved out throughout space to guide ships safely across the void… How you ever managed to make it to us without colliding with every planet and star along the way is nothing short of a miracle by the Goddess herself. Not to mention the downright barbaric shielding that should, by all accounts, have delivered you to our doorsteps as irradiated husks, or the hyperdrives that, in absence of all sense or reason, seemed to be attempting to rend a hole through hyperspace and propel the ship through space, rather than move the space around the ship like any civilized vessel… “duct tape and prayers” indeed.
Nevertheless, against all odds (and seemingly, several laws of physics), arrive at our doorstep you did. Bright eyed, eager to explore, fascinated by the galaxy and yearning for the very companionship and sense of belonging that is to be found here among the council of sentients… so far, nothing to hint at what was to come. By all accounts, a very standard first encounter, erring on the side of downright pleasant. We, in turn, welcomed you with open arms, as we had done for all that came before you… we shared with you our art, our culture, our sciences, everything that we had. The upbringing of a new sentient is no small task, and it is one that the galactic community holds in very high regard. And much to your credit, Humanity was eager to absorb all that we had to offer… Your poets and bards took to the intricacies of Alimini music and art like a sponge, and I am told that the Alimin themselves were in talks to absorb you into their Hegemony on the merits of your own contributions. Your ambassadors and politicians adapted to the dense bureaucratic quagmire of Lunnak legal proceedings like a fish to water, as would be evident by the treaties soon to follow. While it is true that the esoteric mathematics of Indari scholars baffled and confounded your scientists, that was to be expected… even we of the Slane were, admittedly, like children before their computational prowess. Nevertheless, they regarded your attempts to match their own impossible intellect as earnest, and I am told that your greatest minds had formalized some formulaic shortcuts and proofs for quantum mechanics that even the Indari acknowledged as “useful and quaint”, which is quite high praise. The Grenzeli found you fascinating, as the only other known sentient species who found their waste product distasteful… even now, all these many cycles later, I still find myself entertained by the first time I recall serving Grenzeli Sporegrub to a Terran ambassador, watching the expression on his face grow ever more horrified from the look, to the smell, to the taste, and finally to the explanation of its origins… and after, his grotesque stare as the other delegates delighted in the luxury delicacy. You humans express such wonderfully strange emotions with nothing but your facial contorsions.
Perhaps, with the benefit of foresight, we would have found ourselves concerned with your fast affinity to the merchants of the United Planets Corporation… The hesitant accommodations of the Kaspara-Tosh might read as ominous prescient foreshadowing, rather than praise. A people so enthralled by merchants and trade, as though wealth was not a means to an end, but an end in and of itself… the shrewdness of your negotiations, your fascination with trade agreements, border negotiations, corporate expansion strategy, resource allocation and distribution… all very mundane, all very innocent. In hindsight… but alas, as our people say, “The past may only tell the future once the future itself is known.” And anyway, we had no time to ruminate on the hidden prophecy behind your mercantile affinity, as there was work to be done by the Alliance as well. The Goddess wills her machines be made known to all, and it is through the Six Anointed Peoples that we may move closer to Her light. It had been some time since the last Upbringing… I believe the Grenzel people had been part of the sentient coalition for two, maybe three thousand cycles at this point, so needless to say each race was excited to show off what we had to offer. My people, the Slane, took it upon ourselves to personally act as your emissary to the Goddess and her divine engineering. By the looks of the scrap pile that had somehow ferried you across the stars, it was evident you were in desperate need of proselytizing. Our techpriests guided your engineers, showed you the marvels and dangers of hyperspace (done properly this time… dragging yourself through space, how absolutely ludicrous!) Our cyberpriests, myself included, helped upgrade your nav systems and computers, boosting your onboard AI and elevating it such that it might safely guide you along the predetermined hyperlanes. The Elder Cardinal himself oversaw construction of new lanes leading back to Terra, your homeworld of “Earth”, in just a few short cycles. Once again, should it have been concerning how you insisted upon observing and learning the process by which the Cardinal carried out his divine works? Perhaps so, but at the time, nothing struck as out of the ordinary… After all, why shouldn’t a new spacefaring species be curious as to how we carve safe passage through the void? To delight in the Goddess’s divine dominion, to bear witness as Her word shines a light through the darkness… We assumed we had found kindred souls, and though your engineering capabilities were lacking, we still saw in you the same spark of divinity as lived in the other five Anointed Peoples of the Alliance. It is only natural to delight in sharing the word of the Goddess, after all.
This was what is now known as the First Great Mistake. We had illustrated for humanity a grand map to the galaxy, escorted them to the celestial gates, and delivered into their eager hands the keys by which to unlock it.