Meeting No.1 and the Final One.
The Conference.
Boundless space is always expanding.
Galaxies drift away from one another with great reluctance. At least, that is how four representatives would like to imagine it. They themselves do not want to leave at all, and so they try to impose their own vision of the situation even onto lifeless objects.
Who invented these laws? Why does dark energy perform its meticulous work, when it could simply leave everything that was created alone and stop bothering it altogether?
These questions no longer interested anyone. The gathered representatives of vanished races were arguing for specifics.
They cared only about how not to stumble themselves, being the last survivors.
— Damn the Great Filter! — growled the short one, sitting on the very edge of the table. — If I could, I would destroy it, just like I always did — with everything and everyone!
He was answered melodically, almost tenderly:
— Not everything yields to destruction just because you desire it.
This came from a being that had spread itself along its edge and clearly did not wish to listen to angry appeals. Out of obvious disagreement.
— Buzz off. I'm sick of you already.
The third participant immediately cut in — a slug-like creature, squelching with every word:
— Friends…
— A very bold choice of words, — the passionate, low voice of the fourth interrupted at once. — Such definitions should not be thrown around in front of an audience that is not infected with the virus of friendship. We are here for guarantees and mutual benefit, are we not?
They fell silent for a moment and examined the interior of the mess hall of the ancient vessel. There was not a single object meant for rest — except for a grated bucket of unclear purpose. The captain's bridge held the same kind of bucket, and nothing else.
— What kind of race was this? — asked the Fourth. — Did anyone's scouts manage to learn anything about them?
— They died, so they died! — the First waved it off and scratched his barrel-like carapace. — Who cares about losers who couldn't withstand the pressure of Space? To hell with them. Into the sunset of their epoch — which never even really began.
— Friends… — the Third tried again, his gray-transparent container filled with gel wobbling violently. — A vessel like this could contain something of interest. We could divide it into four parts and investigate them. Each of us would gain access to everything valuable, provided one finds some artifact in the sections assigned to them.
The Second shook his twisted joints, which began ticking despite the absence of any dial. He licked himself, his tongue shifting his cheekbones and melting nose. The offer did sound tempting, but it did not meet his requirements for control.
— Material objects can wait, — he said. — What's at stake here is direct influence. So let's return to that topic next time. That's not why we're here.
— Then why the hell did we even come here? — the First slammed his claw against the tabletop. — To pretend we care about one another? Earth is mine. End of discussion.
The contours of the Fourth's body stirred. Liquid water gurgled, spilling out in tight streams. After calming the oscillations, he said:
— Rash actions do not always lead to correct outcomes. You are in a hurry, and what's at stake here is far greater than your ego. We are talking about the fate of a newly discovered Planet, inhabited by billions of living beings.
Think about it: until recently, we believed that the Universe contained no one but our four races and the extinct fifth — otherwise known as the no-names. And then this breakthrough happened…
His words had the desired effect. All of them paused, each to the extent allowed by their cognitive capacity and their willingness to think at all. Throughout their existence, these four peoples had done everything to conceal the truth about themselves, cutting off any contact and destroying all reconnaissance devices. Even the race of the Fourth — the one most inclined toward contact — quickly realized that no one wanted a pleasant or easy dialogue.
Each of them dreamed of placing the others in a subordinate position.
This truth had to be accepted even by those who, for cover, called themselves Nordics. Their true name had been lost in the fog of time, and they tried not to think about it at all.
Just like the others.
Because who knows… perhaps any one of them had already mastered the technology of contactless mind reading. That is why the race of the First called themselves Insectoids to outsiders; the people of the Second — Greys; the community of the Third — Reptilians; and the Fourth, though he strongly resisted and did not wish to place such restraints upon himself, still named himself a Nordic.
So they sat there on an abandoned something-between-a-barge-and-a-merchant-ship of the No-Names, glancing now and then at the enhanced-targeting porthole built directly into the table — opening straight onto the nearby Earth.
A blue sphere with splashes of other colors and shades. Zooming in revealed an enormous Wall of unclear purpose, stretching for many kilometers. The Earthlings were clearly fencing themselves off from someone. From whom, one might wonder? From them?
Scattered deserts were interrupted by a dam, then the surface was torn open by a massive canyon-like hole, followed by patches of centralized states and much more.
— What a playground for maneuvering and deal-making… — the Grey bubbled dreamily, greedily estimating how much value could be absorbed. Multiplying it by the number of humans produced a figure that was downright… staggering. The gel held together by a force field trembled, and the microchips inside it gleamed. Polished and brand-new.
— Nonsense! Rubbish! — the color of the Insectoid's small arms shifted to burgundy. His skin — or rather, the multilayer matte surface resembling fired ceramic composite — was covered in countless micro-fractures earned in battles with himself. — I'll decide this for all of you. Right now.
This miserable little planet must be subjected to a procedure of castration — first by plucking off a couple of oceans, and then drowning everything living in them.
— Ambitious statement! — the Reptilian whistled, and the moist clay of his eyelids rearranged itself, shifting slightly to the left. — Will you manage alone, considering you're in the minority?
— Like I always have! — the warlike interlocutor boomed and, for demonstration, disintegrated part of one of the ship's buckets. Everyone except him froze, waiting for something — anything. The technology was unknown, and the consequences could be fatal.
Nothing happened at all.
— Comrades… — the Grey hurried to interject, as the warning system inside him began flashing and shrieking:
"Unknown object of indeterminate class approaching the ship."
A commotion appropriate to such a solemn occasion erupted, and they redirected the porthole straight at whoever was intruding upon their not-so-cozy discussion.
— What a sly one! Everything about it screams experience, — the Reptilian noted with delight, observing that the object had frozen outside the firing zone, beyond the perimeter of orbital proximity.
— That's a Bubble, — the Grey stated the obvious.
And that was exactly what it appeared to be to armed and unarmed observation alike. A streamlined shape, seemingly transparent and translucent from within. Large? Large enough to pass for a piloted module, yet not massive enough to be a battle cruiser.
On the observation screen it hung motionless, not drifting. Parallax was almost nonexistent, creating the impression that this desperate intruder into an intimate conversation had been glued to reality itself. And as everyone had already noticed — it was not setting a course, nor attempting to dock.
The Bubble simply hung there, making no attempts whatsoever…
— Why? — the Reptilian asked thoughtfully, posing the obvious question.
The Insectoid answered in his own way — by activating all volley-based weapon systems of his ship via the manual panel. The guns rattled one after another, and the shells… expectedly, to someone (though certainly not to him!), missed.
— Kinetics are unstable at that distance. Don't you understand? — the Reptilian shook his head.
The fighter growled irritably and clenched his fists until they cracked.
— The emissary is not here by accident. — The droplet of liquid that was the Nordic grew agitated. A tsunami rolled from its origin and moved onward, swallowing a nonexistent continent. — It doesn't circle, doesn't create an entry point, it merely watches in silence… absorbs.
— What do you mean? — the Reptilian narrowed his eyes, his pupils jumping across the entire periphery. — Is it observing us? And what is it?