The warning came from a deep-space telescope stationed near Saturn. The red dots—now revealed as fleets of alien ships—had suddenly accelerated.
Not with conventional thrusters, but by flattening the fabric of space itself.
"Warp drive," a physicist whispered, his face ashen. "They've been hiding their true speed, traveling at sublight to lull us into a false sense of security."
"Now they know we're repairing the filter. They're coming for us."
Calculations showed the fleets would reach the Earth-Moon system in fourteen days—not ninety. Panic rippled through the command center, but there was no time for fear.
The lunar project shifted into emergency mode, all resources diverted to the critical component: the filter's core crystal.
Even at maximum speed, though, the crystal needed twenty-one days to grow and calibrate.
"Can we activate it partially?" Li Zhe asked, turning to the core being beside him. "Just enough to create a weak shield?"
The creature's crystal eyes dimmed. The translated message appeared on the screen:
"The filter is an all-or-nothing system. Partial activation will emit stray signals—like waving a torch in the Dark Forest. It will only draw them closer, faster."
On the seventh day, the fleets passed Jupiter. Telescopes sent back clearer images: not a single unified fleet, but a ragtag collection of ships from at least seven different civilizations.
Some resembled giant jellyfish, their translucent bodies pulsing with bioluminescence; others were angular, crystalline structures; still more were shapeless masses of twisted light.
Their only common trait was their size—the smallest ship was a tenth the size of the Moon.
"The Cosmic Purge Alliance," the core being's message read. "They share target data and act as one. One civilization finds a life-bearing planet; all converge to eliminate it."
By the tenth day, the sky above Earth began to change. Even in daylight, stars were visible—faint pinpricks of light from the fleets' thrusters.
At night, the sky turned a sickly crimson, as if stained with blood. Panic spread across the globe, but there were no riots, no looting.
People simply gathered with their families, staring up at the growing glow, quiet and resigned. They knew the end was near—and they chose to face it together.
On the thirteenth day, the lunar project was 93% complete. The core crystal needed just forty-eight more hours.
The core beings called a final meeting, their holographic forms appearing in every city square, every command center, every home with a screen.
"There is one last option," their leader said—a being larger than the others, its stone skin etched with ancient, glowing runes.
"We can overload the lunar filter, creating a powerful electromagnetic pulse. It will not destroy the fleets, but it will disable their sensors and navigation systems, forcing them to slow or redirect. They will be blind, if only temporarily."
"What's the cost?" the UN Secretary-General asked, his voice heavy.
"The Moon will shatter. The filter will be permanently destroyed. The pulse will sweep across Earth, frying every electronic device—power grids, hospitals, communication systems."
"Human civilization will regress three hundred years. And we," the leader's eyes dimmed, "will not survive. Our bodies are linked to the filter's energy. Overloading it will reduce us to dust."
The room fell silent. Li Zhe stared at the core being, thinking of all they had done—five hundred million years of protection, of sacrifice, of hiding humanity from a cruel universe.
To let them die... but to do nothing meant the extinction of every life on Earth.
The vote was 87% in favor. They had no other choice.