Annihilation

Years passed. Mathematics, prime numbers, and the zeta function became Ada's horizon of wonder and imagination. Then there was the Bible—a foundation for a community often rife with contradictions. Over time, Ada realized that while staring too long at a word could render it meaningless through satiation, rereading a text repeatedly—whether about seas parting or philosophers cursed by God—yielded not only additional meanings but, with enough interpretation, perhaps the entirety of human history.

And then there was the assassination project. Cautiously, and with relative innocence, Ada half-lied to Senga, claiming she intended to become a planetary guardian—a position responsible for administrating a remote colony beyond the Far Gate. Generously, he introduced her to the rights and duties of citizens, the labyrinth of administrative formalities, and, most crucially, the handling of the MAR. The young woman learned to conceal her intentions and emotions, despite her sometimes violent mood swings: if she wanted to kill Paul Jespersen, it was essential that no one suspect her until the last moment.

Whether under snow or warm sun, they would practice by shooting rocks launched into the lake by drones. While aiming, Ada often thought about what had set her on the path to murder: the Shareplace massacre, no doubt. Thou shalt not kill. And yet, the HS had come. They talked, and they killed.

By the time Ada turned 17, she still hadn't acted, as she improved her marksmanship weekly. When her potential was fully realized, she would leave.

As the days grew longer during the second spring of the year, it happened one late afternoon.

Ada had noticed the Nomad's arrival because its Drift synchronization also served as a relay for updating the LEs. The little machines began to hum and heat up, irritating Kukth as they exchanged small data packets about this quiet planet with the vast network of Human Society, while simultaneously downloading updates from a civilization of immense borders.

Senga, who clearly harbored mistrust for the pilot, nevertheless greeted him warmly and offered a drink from a mysterious cellar beneath the house. Sky toasted to wealth, and Senga to honest work.

"It's beautiful here. But boring, isn't it? You know, in the Brotherhood, they take people like you. You'd be useful, and you'd live a life of adventure."

"I just toasted to honest work, my friend. That was a message."

"Oh, received loud and clear. All I'm saying is, laws change all the time. You do something, and boom—suddenly it's illegal, and no one consulted you about it. Thanks, but no thanks."

"You're so close to being the perfect man."

They embraced amicably, and Sky departed in his ship, its engines roaring, its grappling system smoothly lifting it away. As the small star disappeared into the sky, Ada asked Senga what the Brotherhood was (the LE disappointed her more and more), and he offered her fruit juice—a way to buy time.

The familiar roar returned. The Nomad had landed again… Sky, pale as a ghost, returned and asked to speak privately with the planetary guardian. The tone was grim. Ignoring Ada's remarks, they retreated to the ship.

Finally, Senga hastily attached an official badge to his uniform, walked to the center of the village with his rifle in hand, and fired into the air to call everyone—families, Ada, and even Alpha. Some lagged behind, and his voice grew sharper. When everyone was gathered, he demanded silence. Seconds fell like massive pillars of stillness, and tension spread like a toxic cloud. Finally, he spoke:

"What I am about to say is of utmost importance—perhaps the most important thing you will ever hear. I want your full attention. As you can see, I have my MAR in hand. I'm faster than any of you. I know, Ademus Scott, that you have an Automagn at your belt. Maybe you, Nikolas Bihotz, have one too. It doesn't matter. I'm going to explain a grave situation. If, during or after my explanation, you reach for your weapon, I will consider it an attack and will shoot you without hesitation. Is that clear to everyone? Is that clear to you, Ademus?"

The situation was surreal and incomprehensible. Stunned, the villagers nodded. Trembling, Ademus moved his hand toward his weapon, then stopped.

"Good. Sky, our relay to the HS, departed a few minutes ago for Ariel. Before activating his Drift, his Grappler scan detected an asteroid about 18 kilometers in diameter heading for Clelia. Through the Drift, we contacted Prospero, and the AIs there confirmed the readings and calculations. The asteroid will cause a catastrophe on this planet in two days. Sky, what are the next Drift windows?"

Sky stepped forward.

"In 33 minutes and then in a week. With liftoff and grappling, we have 20 minutes, max."

Senga resumed:

"If we pack tightly and count the oxygen, bringing extra canisters, there's space for 9 people in the capsule and 1 co-pilot—so, 10. We are 9 adults, 10 if we count Japhet, 7 children, and one Xeno. I'll set the example and stay behind. We have 19 minutes to decide who goes and who stays."

Father Scott immediately drew his sidearm, a metallic contraption wrapping around his hand. The planetary guardian reacted instantly, shooting him in the chest without aiming. A sharp noise, a hole letting light pass through. His wife, Dolly, threw herself on him, sobbing uncontrollably.

The people were stunned, but they were also believers. There was, in this celestial punishment, a divine message. They talked to themselves and each other. For a Christian, after all, death is not the end.

"I'll stay," said Laurencio Salute. "It's life. God is with me. Save the children."

"I'll stay with you, my love," his wife replied.

"I'll stay," said Paul Jespersen. "I don't consider myself more worthy than Scott to survive."

Marie Jespersen wept, and Paul asked her to leave. He stepped forward and added:

"The children go. Seven people. I humbly ask you to save Japhet. He's an adult, but… well, it's up to you."

Helena Bihotz, tall, rigid, with gray braided hair, stepped forward.

"I look young, but I'm much older than my husband," she said. "I'm nearly 130 years old, having once extended my life through genetic modifications while living in sin. I'll stay. Michel, I'd like you to survive. I love you."

Senga coldly calculated:

"Seven kids, Japhet Jespersen, Michel Bihotz, Marie Jespersen. That leaves us with Alpha and Benedicte Scott to decide."

"I curse you!" screamed Benedicte. "You're a monster!"

Sky yelled, "We have 8 minutes left!"

Senga ordered: "Children, run to the Nomad! No goodbyes!"

As they ran, crying, stumbling, sometimes breaking down, Alpha followed Ada.

And then, it was over. As the Nomad lifted, Senga stood dignified, rifle ready, guarding against any outbursts. But none came. They stared at the ship carrying their children to safety, knowing they would face divine punishment in two days.