“The Galactic Society banned the research on sentient machines after the Sentience Wars. Any race of intelligent machines was seen as a threat to organic life. Normally, the creation of an artificial intelligence always runs into the problem of creating a code which is able to adapt itself. It was the general opinion that any intelligent species would develop spaceflight over solar distances before they are able to create an A.I. which poses a threat.

The humans had circumvented that problem by uploading their minds directly into their machines. They had no mentionable presence in space when the first G.S. Ship found their civilisation. Though, their A.I. research had advanced well beyond what the G.S. would tolerate.”

***Urban Station, Research Facility 3***

***Antioch***

Moaning and whining like a beaten animal, I slowly regain consciousness. My head hurts as if a thousand little insects are crawling around inside it. Had I known that it would be like this, I would have never asked for a boon.

It feels like hours pass until I finally feel fit enough to do anything. There is still a pulsing ache in the back of my brain, but it’s tolerable.

Upon checking my surroundings, I find out that I am sitting inside the shuttle’s cockpit. I gulp upon looking at the complicated controls, but suddenly the knowledge simply pops into my brain. To the right side are the thrust-controls, and above it are various warning-signals. At the upper half of the console are the sensors. To the left are the life-controls, docking-controls and landing gear.

Gingerly, I place my finger on a red switch and flip it.

With a ‘clank’, the shuttle’s airlock is detached from the station. I actually feel a little giddy about it. It seems like I will get off this rock after all!

I activate the sensors and allow them to search for the much larger ship which this shuttle must have come from. They talked about accelerating an asteroid, which means that they must have something more powerful than this shuttle.

Sure enough, I find a geddon-class transporter in a geostationary orbit at the planetoid’s horizon.

The geddon-class is a crude, but reliable ship. It’s nothing more than a cylinder with a length of two hundred metres. Most of the ship’s rear is taken up by a single ion-pulse-engine. A fusion reactor powers an electromagnetic field which accelerate the ionized waste of the fusion process close to light speed. In other words, it's a ramjet. It’s a dirty, but very effective way to propel a ship.

There is also a warp-drive, which allows for interstellar travel. I wince when I remember the specifications. Just a hundred times the speed of light. That’s slow, compared to most other ships. Just getting to the next star system will take weeks. Thinking about it is enough for me to recall the exact details of the engines.

All the rest of the ship is reserved for storage space, except for a small section with life support for the crew. The only weapon is a single plasma accelerator which is intended to shoot down asteroids. It’s much more efficient to blast obstacles out of the way than to change the course of a fully loaded transporter. Fuel costs money after all.

I draw in a deep breath and check the communication console, but there are no messages. Seems like I was lucky. When the Vendevellans killed themselves, they left me their ship. Hopefully, they don't have something like an access code and a highly secured computer system on their ship.

There is the uneasy feeling that I am missing something. Closing my eyes, I meditate for a moment, searching myself for the reason of my suspicions.

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After a few minutes, I know the answer. Or better, I know the question which is gnawing at me.

How did G.O.D. know that there is a geddon-class transporter in the planetoid’s orbit? I get that he probably knows everything I hear and see, but up until a few seconds ago, I didn’t even know which type of spaceship I was about to encounter, yet I know everything about the geddon-class.

Searching my mind, I try to think of other ships, but nothing comes to mind. Seems like I only got information about the shuttle and the spaceship in orbit.

I take my time in getting familiar with the controls, making sure that I know each little switch. All the while, I hope for a pointed remark from G.O.D. which could give me a hint, but the stupid entity stays annoyingly silent.

Finally, I start the engines and retract the landing gear, then I fly the shuttle to the transporter which hangs dead in space. That takes a few minutes, so I check the shuttle’s flight log. Surely enough, I gain the certainty that the large transporter had a crew of only five.

And I have five bodies accounted for on the planetoid’s surface.

The flight happens without issues. It feels natural to push the controls, and when I look out of the front-screen, I get an overlay of interesting information which superimposes itself over my normal vision. Direction, speed, and approximated mass, everything I need to be a proper pilot. Heck, maybe I could fly this thing even without the sensors.

When it’s time to land on the geddon-class, I realize that there is no hangar. The only possibility is to connect the shuttle to the transporter’s hull.

Half an hour later, I am within the narrow confines of the transporter’s empty living-section. There are ten private quarters for the crew, a kitchen, a small engine room for repairs and to store the repair drones, and a small piloting room. I refuse to call it a bridge since it only has enough space for a pilot and a co-pilot.

I feel giddy upon tasting complete freedom, but getting acquainted with the ship isn't just fun. It feels eerie to rummage through the empty crew-quarters, knowing that their bodies are down on the nameless planetoid, probably already frozen.

The transporter is in a state of lock-down, but my skills as a hacker solve that little problem soon enough. That leaves me with the question of what to do from here on. My only real long-term goal is to follow G.O.D.’s quest. It would be nice to meet others of my kind, even though I must admit that I am a little afraid. Aside from my brothers, I never had contact with any others.

Will they accept me? Will I accept them? I am not stupid; I do realize that I am probably in for a big culture shock.

That said, I have to make sure that nobody learns that I am alive. I also want to get out of the system as fast as possible. Not knowing any better solution to my problem, I return to the cockpit and reprogram the transporter’s plasma cannon, setting it on continuous fire.

Then I target the base on the planetoid’s surface and listen to the continuous ‘humm’ of the weapon as one shot after the other is fired. This certainly won’t look natural, but I don’t care. If the owners of the facility show up, they will probably assume that their goons simply did a bad job.

The plasma cannon is a weak weapon. It will take hours to obliterate any hint of the station.

That’s time which I would rather spend doing something useful, so I access the transport’s database. Upon entering the name of my species, the Zulu, I get an error returned.

–No Database Entry–

Annoyed, I check the database’s validity, but according to its description, it’s a standardized civilian G.S. setup. That should include all the known species which are a part of the Society.

I change my strategy and search for humanoids, add my approximate size and proportions, and any other distinctive features. Something tells me to exclude my chameleon-skin, since that’s probably not an inherited trait.

The search leaves me with a few results, and I eliminate them one by one. What I am left with makes my blood run cold. A face is looking at me from the screen. It’s not quite me, but close enough to feel some sort of racial kinship.

–Race: Human–

Found in violation of the embargo regarding sentient machines. Exterminated according to the bans on forbidden technologies.

Current Status: Extinct

My mind feels numb when I start comparing the knowledge within this database to what I learned from Ouluk. I research the bans on forbidden technologies, the humans, and galactic opinion of sentient machines.

What I get are a few answers and a lot more questions.

Apparently, my people had only one world when they were found by the Galactic Society, the ruling body of this part of the galaxy. Their path of development was a little… unusual. When they were found, they were in the process of becoming one with their technology.

The G.S. was so frightened that they glassed the entire planet with nukes and dropped asteroids until the world was a sea of molten lava.

I close my eyes. It explains why Ouluk wanted me to solve all those formulas for them, and why they decided to ‘end’ the project. I didn’t perform according to their expectations!

Those fuckers were just using me because they were too stupid to do the math on their own! Probably the whole project was run illegally! Somehow, they got their hands on human survivors, or genetic code, something along those lines! That’s why they wanted to hide their deeds when they left.

G.O.D.: The little mouse finally took a look outside its cage.