5 Months On

Five months on...

Controller had been in his post for a very long time, much longer than Pilot, who was relatively juvenile. Only Controllers, Pilots, Recorders and Drones survived beyond the juvenile stage, carrying out the tasks allotted to them by evolution. That had begun two and a half billion years before, with the random collision of DNA particles with the homeworld.

Many Flarings had come and gone in the sight of Controller. At the last occasion he had felt the stirrings of his mortality, and tumbled out into the corona with the juveniles. There he mixed his DNA with a carrier juvenile, and the resultant egg dropped back to the surface to be collected by Drones. Now, safe below the surface and the protective ice, a new Controller dreamed dreams of his eons-long voyage through space.

All his knowledge and skill were bound up in that bundle of pupating cells. When his post was completed the new Controller, fully aware and experienced, would assume his place in charge of the homeworld.

So it was for successive generations of Controllers, Pilots, Recorders and Drones. Pilots had special skills in directing the homeworld into orbits most suitable for the Flarings. Recorders accumulated the sensor input of a million generations to garner knowledge of the Universe. Drones were bred specifically to care for the developing generations below the surface.
He recalled the ecstasy of his last, and probably final, Flaring. As the star swelled in his vision, Controller had sensed homeworld stir, rumble, shake. Luminous lifestuff began to vent from the crust, fanning out behind in a fantastic display of light and burgeoning warmth.

At critical point the juveniles burst from their nursery chambers, oozed through the widening fissures, and abandoned themselves to the void. Gravity held them within the corona where they swirled in the ancient mating dance. DNA was mixed, sometimes with the Elders, sometimes with other juveniles. Juveniles begat other juveniles to act as carriers, Pilots created new Pilots, Recorders and Drones their own kind.

All gyrated and rejoiced in the naked radiation of the star, softened only slightly by the life-giving atmosphere of the glowing corona. Cosmic rays mixed chemicals and DNA sprayed from every entity in the dance, hardened them into little pellets of newborn life.

It had been this way for billions of years. Homeworld, the stars, the orbits, the Flarings, an endless cycle of rebirth and knowledge.

Sometimes the Flarings lasted for months, sometimes for years, depending on the star-type and the orbits. Recorders had classified ten different stellar bodies during this Controller's post. Some of the systems hosted life on their planets, but that was none of his affair.

Curious life forms looked out from their worlds to see the Flaring, some with rudimentary sensors, some with complex devices. A few sent machines to see what homeworld looked like close up. Many of those civilizations had crumbled to dust during Controller's tenure.

Now that post was coming to an end.
He sensed it in every fibre of his being, heard the mindcall of the new Controller coming swiftly to awareness. Soon a new generation would take up his duties and he would be able to rest the eternal rest .That was something he anticipated eagerly, as they cruised now in the interstellar reaches, too far from any star to pick up heat or light.

Pilot interrupted his reverie.

"A device is approaching – it is not an entity – it is constructed of metals and other unidentified compounds."

"Origin?" snapped Controller – he really was not very interested, though he knew it was Pilot's duty to inform him of changes to their environment.

"Third planet of an insignificant star system – Recorders have analyzed the signals to and from it. The inhabitants have sent it to see what we are." From the signal analysis, Recorders had also routinely built a picture of the civilization which had dispatched the probe.

"Another one? Life forms are very curious in this sector." It was only a hundred thousand years ago since the last investigation.

"They must be curious," retorted Pilot, "it has taken six of their months and much material resource for that thing to get here!"

"Keep me informed....wait, what was that?"

Controller's naked sensors had picked up a brief flowering of light where the intruder lay.

"Part of the machine has detached," observed Pilot, "it is on a collision course with homeworld."

Controller calculated the possibilities, and began to worry.

"Can you change course?" he asked Pilot.

"Not in time," he replied flatly.

Both could only observe as the bead of light streaked towards homeworld.

"I believe the device is recording," said Pilot, "why would it record a destructive act?"
"Malfunction?" asked Controller.

"I do not believe so – this is a deliberate attempt to collide with homeworld and record the effect."

"Why...?"

Controller's thoughts were cut off by a deep shudder in the core of homeworld. Blazing white lifestuff erupted from the surface in an unholy, premature Flaring. The deep rock structure was pierced by the attack, spewing the very heart of homeworld into the void. Controller's mind was pierced by the mindscreams of countless juveniles and drones.

Nursery! Nursery had taken the full impact of the depraved assault! Controller called for anyone to answer him but the vaporized flesh of the next generation had vented into space with the melting ice and stone.

Homeworld pitched and yawed vigorously, its orbit wobbling. There had been meteor strikes before in its long history, but nothing like this.

"Answer me!" screamed Controller, struggling to take in the enormity of what had happened, "is anyone left alive?"

A faint resonance crept into his brain.

"Pilot?" His chamber had been close to Nursery, nearer the surface for good observation of space.
"I am here, Controller. Damaged, but still functional - for now. I will not survive the damage."

The inhabitants of the planet which has wreaked the destruction would have called Controller's emotions despair and rage.

"Are they all gone, Pilot? Our entire race?"

"Affirmative, Controller.
Juveniles and Drones are all destroyed. It is the end of us as a species."

"Are you able to alter course, Pilot?"

"I think so, but I must be quick – my functions are failing rapidly."

"Can you navigate to the machine's origin?"

"I believe so – some Recorders yet function."

"Then do so – change course, maximum speed."

"That will take five of their months - your intention, Controller?"

"Can you calculate the effect of homeworld's collision with that planet?"

"Catastrophic, Controller..."

"Then do it, while you can. Do it for the future generations who have just vanished. Let us see how they like it..."


The collision of a probe from NASA's Deep Impact spacecraft with comet Tempel 1 blew a plume of debris thousands of miles into space and provided a spectacular first glimpse of the insides of a comet — ancient bodies that may hold the key to the origins of the solar system — scientists said Monday 4th July 2005.


The collision — a carefully orchestrated dance at more than 20,000 mph intended to expose the comet's interior — was much larger than anyone had expected, said researchers at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory in La Cañada Flintridge.

Telescopes on Earth showed that the light from the comet increased fivefold in the aftermath of the collision at 10:52 p.m. PDT Sunday before slowly fading over several hours.


© Michael J. Eardley July 2005
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