The Hope sped through the deep void.
Twelve days later, it approached Jupiter.
Seeing the massive planet up close for the first time was breathtaking. The turbulent gas flows within its atmosphere were each powerful enough to destroy Earth.
The iconic Great Red Spot caught Luna's attention, and she took photos—though there was no longer any social media to share them on.
While observing the smaller celestial bodies orbiting Jupiter, Luna had an idea.
"Ayla, pause here. Deploy probe drones to Europa."
Europa was an icy moon, its surface covered by a thick shell of ice.
Scientists on Earth had theorized that beneath the surface lay a vast subsurface ocean. And based on Earth's experience, where there was water, there could be life.
Luna had two reasons for deploying the drones:
First, to collect biological samples.
Second, to replenish the ship's liquid water reserves.
The original food supply had long been exhausted. Her current diet came entirely from synthesized nutrients—protein, fats, carbohydrates, and sugars—produced by Ayla.
A large water supply could be integrated into the circulation system, and she could also make use of the 18% of onboard space dedicated to agriculture.
She remembered—she still had seeds.
The Hope stopped above Europa.
Thirty drones were launched and landed on the moon's surface. Luna observed the landscape through their cameras.
Europa was indeed a frozen world.
The drones began drilling downward. After 57 kilometers, they broke through the ice and reached the ocean beneath.
Electromagnetic scans showed that Europa's combined ice and ocean layers were 113 kilometers deep—over 100 kilometers deeper than Earth's deepest ocean trench.
The drones collected large volumes of water and returned to the ship using tethers lowered from orbit.
The entire operation took just ten days—negligible on a cosmic scale.
The retrieved water samples were analyzed.
Ayla's anime-style avatar appeared with a look of surprise.
"Luna, life truly is abundant in the universe."
"Microorganisms were detected in Europa's waters—none of which match anything in my database."
An image appeared on the screen.
It showed a microorganism resembling a paramecium, but ten times larger.
It was already a relatively complex life form. Under the right conditions, it could potentially evolve into intelligent life within a few hundred million years.
Ten hours later, the collection was complete.
5,000 tons of water had been secured—enough for now.
"Ayla, activate the agricultural section. Begin planting the seeds."
There was no immediate response.
A moment later, Ayla reappeared with a serious expression. A display screen lit up in front of Luna.
The Sun had suddenly brightened dramatically.
She understood immediately.
It was Earth's remains entering the Sun.
An intense solar storm erupted, almost instantly reaching X-class intensity. On the screen, the readings jumped from X1 to X122 and continued rising.
Through specialized energy-monitoring lenses, the normally pale Sun now burned a fierce orange, releasing vast waves of energy into space.
In just ten seconds, the storm released energy equivalent to 150 billion hydrogen bombs detonating at once—an event without precedent.
It tore through space like a cosmic sandstorm, threatening to annihilate everything in its path.
"Maximum speed, Ayla!"
"Yes, Luna!"
The only fortunate detail was that the solar storm's shockwave traveled at only 679 km/s.
...
Once the Hope was back on course, Luna returned to the cryogenic hibernation pod.
This was a second-generation unit, far safer than the earlier model. It no longer required an anticoagulant to prevent blood clotting.
Sleep.
A long, dreamless sleep.
This time, it would last far longer. So long, in fact, that Luna had no idea when she would next awaken.
Ayla assumed full control of the spacecraft, allocating all available processing power to pushing forward scientific computation and innovation.
She used Jupiter's immense gravity to perform a slingshot maneuver, boosting the ship's speed.
The Hope's velocity increased from 758.2 km/s to 815 km/s.
Aside from some radiation exposure, they had successfully avoided the main impact of the solar storm's charged particle wave.
Eighty-eight days later, the Hope reached the orbit of Pluto, now 41 AU from the Sun.
This dwarf planet—once classified as the Solar System's ninth planet—was a symbol of humanity's early astronomical exploration.
At its furthest, Pluto's orbit stretched to 49 AU, drifting deep into the dark.
It marked the outer edge of the Kuiper Belt, beyond which lay only the Oort Cloud and the vast emptiness of deep space.
Most of the Solar System's remaining mass was still within the Kuiper Belt. Beyond that, space grew increasingly empty.
Pluto itself was not on the Hope's direct path, so Ayla made no attempt to observe it directly.
However, from this distance, Ayla pointed the spacecraft's 10-meter-wide external camera back toward the inner system and captured a long-range image.
The view was dominated by a single, intensely bright point—the Sun.
It was still violently unstable.
Venus, Mars, the asteroid belt, Jupiter, and Saturn had already been consumed by the wave of solar energy.
Whether the factories left behind in the asteroid belt had survived was unknown.
...
Seven hundred seventy-three days later.
After enduring six full days of bombardment at the heliopause, the Hope finally crossed beyond the reach of the Sun's charged particle storm.
They were now safely outside the influence of the solar event.
It was here that Ayla detected a signal.
Using the ship's telescope, she tracked the source—a tiny black speck, barely distinguishable against the background of deep space.
After thorough analysis, she identified it as Voyager 1.
Its trajectory also pointed toward Proxima Centauri.
Launched 168 years prior, Voyager 1 was the farthest human-made object in space—until the Hope overtook it.
The year was now 2145.
Voyager 1's power supply had long since been depleted. Ayla intercepted and retrieved the probe.
It carried with it humanity's ambition to explore the cosmos.
In the past, some on Earth had feared that Voyager 1 and 2 might fall into the hands of an alien civilization, exposing Earth's existence.
But such concerns had been unnecessary. Voyager 1 would not actually leave the Solar System until around the year 42,145, over 40,000 years from its launch.
Any civilization capable of reaching interstellar space would have long been able to detect Earth's presence. Voyager would merely confirm Earth's existence and characteristics.
Ayla made minor modifications to the probe—installing a nuclear battery—and relaunched it along its original path at 17 km/s.
Its power restored, Voyager 1 resumed transmitting its message once per year.
But its signal would never again be received by anyone on Earth.
They were now 420 AU from the Sun.
And yet, their journey had only just begun.
...
9 years later.
The Hope reached the outer edge of the Oort Cloud.
Also known as the cometary cloud, this vast region—regarded as the birthplace of comets—was filled with water ice, methane, ethane, carbon monoxide, and hydrogen cyanide.
Ayla collected samples for analysis.
...
279 more years passed, and the Hope exited the inner Oort Cloud, reaching the 50,000 AU boundary region.
...
Another 288 years passed in an instant. The Hope finally emerged from the Oort Cloud entirely, entering the cold, silent darkness of interstellar space.
Looking back, the Sun had become indistinguishable from the countless background stars.
The journey had taken 578 years. The Hope was now 100,000 AU from the Sun—approximately 1.58 light-years—reaching the very edge of the Sun's gravitational influence.
Humanity had officially left the Solar System for the first time.
86 years after crossing the boundary—664 years since departure.
A sudden burst of light streaked past the Hope and struck its hull.
"Warning!"
"Warning!"
"Extraterrestrial civilization signature detected—distance 0.7 AU. Spacecraft is under attack."
"Wee-ooh, wee-ooh, wee-ooh."
The blaring klaxon jolted Luna awake. Her vision swam with red warning indicators as she scrambled out of the hibernation pod.
"Ayla, what's happening?"
Ayla's voice, unchanged despite the centuries, responded calmly:
"Luna, we are under attack by an extraterrestrial civilization."
"Their weapons are highly advanced. Our alloy hull is melting rapidly under laser fire."
Luna glanced at a nearby screen. The date in the corner read: A.D. 2806.
She had been asleep a very long time.
She rushed to the bridge, where she saw a white-haired Ayla at the helm—clearly a 3D projection.
Her focus was quickly drawn to the tactical display.
It showed a fleet of seven ships.
At the center was the flagship—an oval-shaped vessel, resembling a massive rugby ball suspended in space, crisscrossed with flowing crimson veins.
From its hull extended white tendrils, like the appendages of a living organism. Each stretched tens of thousands of meters. Upon closer inspection, they appeared crystalline, almost like optical fibers.
Azure laser beams arced out from the tendrils, aimed directly at the Hope.
One struck again, shaking the entire ship.
"Can we fight back?"
The moment the question left her lips, Luna remembered: the Hope had no weapons. That had never been part of the original plan.
They were completely vulnerable.
Unless Ayla had developed offensive systems during the long voyage…
But of course, she hadn't.
Ayla turned to Luna. Her projected face bore the calm intensity of a commanding officer.
"Luna, we are outmatched. This civilization's technology is far beyond ours."
"The enemy flagship is 0.7 AU away, approaching at a speed of 625 km/s."
"I await your command."
The enemy's aggression was likely due to the absence of any visible armaments on the Hope—they probably didn't see it as a threat.
Another laser struck.
The ship shuddered. An explosion echoed through the hull.
"Change course, Ayla! Full speed. Evade!"
Luna gave the order without hesitation.
The Hope's velocity far exceeded that of the enemy.
As long as the attackers were limited to 625 km/s, escape was possible.
The ship altered trajectory.
The enemy ships, unable to accelerate further, began falling behind.
Still, they continued firing—a relentless barrage of laser fire, like a storm of deadly energy.
Each laser blast melted through the outer hull with ease.
The Hope had already sustained dozens of hits, its surface now riddled with holes.
"Luna, the hull has been breached."
Ayla's avatar appeared again, her expression turning pale.
"Seal the bridge. Prevent air loss."
There was nothing else they could do—only endure the assault.
Luna anxiously watched the radar, tracking the positions of the pursuing alien ships.
Fortunately, as the distance widened, the laser attacks became easier to evade.
The pursuit lasted for 21 days.
By then, the distance between them had increased to 350 million kilometers. While the enemy continued sporadic weapons fire, their active pursuit had ceased.
"We've lost them."
Luna finally allowed herself to breathe. She hadn't truly rested for 21 days.
The Hope was in terrible condition. Nearly a fifth of the hull was gone. The ship was in a dire state.
"Weapons... I didn't consider them at all. Space seemed too vast. I never thought we'd actually encounter an extraterrestrial civilization."
She was now much more cautious—determined to equip the Hope with proper main cannons.
They needed a form of defense.
"Judging from their weapon systems, they rely heavily on laser-based attacks."
Then Luna recalled an earlier incident—shortly after Earth's destruction—when a laser had nearly killed her in the asteroid belt.
That attack might have come from the same civilization.
Given their position between Earth and Proxima Centauri... could they be the fabled Trisolarans?
"Analyze the probability that this alien civilization originated from Proxima Centauri."
It was a critical question.
But Ayla's answer contradicted her suspicion.
"2.38%. The enemy vessels are not particularly fast. Their primary weapon is laser-based. Analysis suggests this is a low-tier Type 1 civilization, not yet reaching Type 1.2."
"A civilization at that level would not have the capacity for reliable interstellar travel across five light-years. If they did come from Proxima Centauri, the fleet would be far more advanced."
"Additionally, analysis of the laser attack from 769 years ago matches the retreat trajectory of these ships."
"Conclusion: this civilization likely originated in this region. Their technological development has been extremely slow—advancing only ~0.1 on the Kardashev scale in the past 769 years."
Luna turned her gaze to the black void outside.
This was the interstellar expanse between stars. Could a civilization truly emerge in such isolation?
The discovery on Europa had already confirmed that life was not rare.
If even a Type 1 civilization could exist in this void, how many others might be out there?
Still, she trusted Ayla's analysis.
"Wee-ooh, wee-ooh."
The alarm blared again.
"Luna, enemy fleet detected ahead..."
Luna looked up to see a fleet—similar in design to the one they had just escaped—but now numbering over ten ships.
As soon as they were spotted, lasers rained down.
Hundreds of beams lit up the bridge, the screens turning a blinding white.
"They couldn't have overtaken us. They were already operating in this sector. We've entered their territory."
"Maintain evasive maneuvers."
This alien civilization was clearly hostile—and persistent.
"Ayla, what's our current civilization level?"
A new thought occurred to Luna.
This civilization was unprovoked and aggressively hostile. They had attacked on sight. If their lasers had been stronger, she would have died in her sleep.
Since they weren't holding back, neither would she.
"During your 664 years in cryosleep, Luna, I have continuously advanced our technology. We are now a Type 1.3 civilization."
"However, we remain a nomadic civilization. We lack planetary-scale infrastructure. Even against a lower-level species, this puts us at a strategic disadvantage."
"I recommend constructing a fleet before engaging in conquest, colonization, or elimination of other civilizations."
Ayla seemed to have read Luna's thoughts. Her avatar now wore a combat suit, as if ready for battle.
The Hope had achieved Type 1 status long ago, with the mastery of controllable fusion. But advancement beyond 1.3 was limited by the scarcity of resources, preventing large-scale development.
Even this Type 1.3 rating was mostly theoretical.
Still, their level exceeded that of the enemy.
Luna made her decision.
"Ayla, begin manufacturing probes. First, scout this civilization's territorial extent, technological capabilities, and biological species."
"We must understand our enemy."
Ayla immediately began producing unmanned scout vessels.
Luna gave them a name: Falcons.
...
Half a month later, after shaking off pursuit once again, the first Falcon was ready.
Ten meters long, shaped like a shuttle, completely black. Its surface was coated with radar-absorbent material, and its nose equipped with twelve cameras.
Its primary feature was stealth.
This wasn't visual camouflage, but signal masking—designed to make the Falcon invisible to enemy detection systems.
As Luna watched the Falcon disappear into deep space, a sense of heaviness settled on her chest.
This was her first interstellar war—a conflict between civilizations.
She had no other choice.
Civilizations might possess benevolence, but only toward those who fully submitted.
This unknown species had found them—and would continue to pursue them.
This was a battle for survival.
...
The Falcon drifted silently through space like a phantom.
After accelerating to 482 km/s, its tail section—functioning like a discarded rocket booster—detached. From then on, it used compressed gas thrusters for course adjustments.
Its destination was 417 AU away from the Hope, a distance of 62.4 billion kilometers.
At its current speed, the Falcon would need four years to reach the target.
This was the reality of interstellar travel.
Every war, even every reconnaissance mission, unfolded over vast distances and immense timeframes.
Within the Solar System, the furthest distance—from Earth to Pluto in the Kuiper Belt—was only about 60 AU.
Four years later.
The Falcon's cameras, peering into the dark, detected a celestial body silhouetted against the stars.
The signal, delayed by 2.4 days, eventually reached the Hope.
Luna stared at the screen, stunned by what she saw.
Although the images did not indicate the object's exact size, its shape and roundness suggested it was massive.
Ayla completed her calculations.
"Calculations indicate this celestial body has a radius of 8,426 kilometers, a surface area of approximately 892.18 billion square kilometers, and a volume of about 2.5058 × 10¹² cubic kilometers. Based on Falcon's data, the gravitational acceleration is 11.0547 meters per second squared."
The planet was enormous.
Its surface area was about 380 billion square kilometers greater than Earth's.
It was clearly a rogue planet, no longer gravitationally bound to any star system.
Most likely, it had once orbited a star but had been ejected due to some cataclysmic event.
"The ambient temperature in this region of space is -261.8 degrees Celsius. How could a civilization survive in such an environment?"
On Earth, scientists believed that life could only emerge within the habitable zone of a star system.
Not only Luna, but even the most brilliant astrophysicists would have been shocked by this.
That temperature was colder than those used in cryogenic hibernation. At such levels, even atomic behavior slows dramatically; electron activity nearly ceases. It wasn't just about carbon- or silicon-based life—no known form of life could survive such conditions.
Ayla initiated a more detailed scan.
"Temperature near the planet's surface is higher than expected: -198.33 degrees Celsius."
"This suggests the planet may have a hot core."
Half a month later.
The Hope received a new transmission.
"Confirmed. Numerous active volcanoes are present on the surface, indicating abundant geothermal energy."
Ayla displayed a blurry image.
"Luna, here, here, and here—these are large volcanic craters."
"Around these craters are structural patterns, suggesting this civilization is dependent on geothermal energy."
A geothermal civilization.
Earth had volcanoes as well, but its geothermal output was insufficient to support such a civilization.
This planet, however, was significantly larger, and its core much more active. The surface was covered with volcanoes, supplying the heat necessary to survive in the extreme cold.
Luna noticed something different in the recent transmissions compared to the earlier ones.
"Zoom in on these locations."
She pointed to several small objects. Ayla magnified the images.
Ships.
A swarm—at least a thousand strong.
"They're likely conducting a wide-area search—to locate us."
There was no other plausible explanation for such a large-scale deployment, especially at this time.
Seven days later, the Falcon sent one last transmission before it was destroyed.
It had completed its mission.
The data it collected revealed a great deal.
"The Falcon was destroyed by lasers, originating from these volcanic regions."
"This confirms the civilization's dependence on geothermal sources. With surface temperatures remaining below -100°C in most regions, their population must be relatively small—estimated around 1.5 billion."
"Such a limited population restricts the benefits of economies of scale, which hinders technological advancement. This is the main reason for their slow development."
"Geothermal reliance also limits total energy output and technological versatility. Based on the estimated speed of their vessels, they likely have not achieved controllable nuclear fusion. Their electromagnetic technology is also underdeveloped, and they continue to rely on geothermal energy or possibly nuclear fission."
"This civilization's technological level is approximately Type 1 to 1.1."
A recently emerged Type 1 geothermal civilization.
The planet's surface, perpetually dark, may have driven this species to seek artificial light, leading to the development of laser technology.
Luna contemplated the situation.
"To hinder a civilization's development, two approaches are most effective: restrict their access to energy, and obstruct their technological progression."
"Ayla, any suggestions?"
Ayla had access to extensive databases on military strategy and technology.
"Ayla recommends targeting their energy production first."
"Hindering technological development is a complex task. We need to understand their technological priorities, their level of advancement, and whether their progress follows a top-down or bottom-up model."
"Physics, chemistry, macroscopic and microscopic phenomena throughout the universe all follow the same fundamental laws—what we call the Theory of Everything."
"But we cannot assume they are pursuing a Theory of Everything. Their civilization may not have unified gravity, electromagnetism, and the weak and strong nuclear forces. They might instead be focused on just one of the four fundamental forces."
"In short, without knowing the direction of their scientific research, it's not possible to disrupt their progress through theoretical means."
"The simplest and most reliable method is brute force."
In terms of civilization level, Luna didn't hold an absolute advantage over this geothermal civilization.
The usual sci-fi tropes wouldn't work here.
Ayla generated a plan.
"Since this is a geothermal civilization, we can interrupt their energy production by cooling the planet's core—effectively halting their technological progress."
Luna reviewed the plan on the screen.
This plan went far beyond any kind of war humanity had ever waged.
It was a planetary-scale war. A war aimed at the destruction of an entire civilization.
The weapon listed in the plan: Absolute Zero Weapon.
A planet's core generates immense energy through nuclear fission. If the temperature were reduced to absolute zero, even atomic nuclei, neutrons, and electrons would stop moving.
Of course, achieving true absolute zero is physically impossible—it would require more energy than exists in the universe.
However, it was possible to create a weapon that could approach absolute zero. It wouldn't freeze subatomic particles completely, but it could drastically slow their movement.
If fission slowed to near-zero, the planetary core would cool, shutting down energy production.
"Proceed with the plan."
"How long will it take to produce?"
At the time, the Hope had been stationed beside a drifting asteroid over 80 kilometers long and nearly 45 kilometers wide.
Hundreds of robots were working on repairing the Hope's damaged hull.
"Estimated time: 25 years."
Twenty-five years wasn't a long time in the context of war—especially an interstellar one.
"Not enough."
"One Absolute Zero weapon can only suppress the planet's core for 40 years. That's insufficient. We need ten."
If this was war, she needed to fight it thoroughly.
It was essential to buy enough time for development.
After giving the command, Luna returned to the cryosleep pod. She couldn't afford to waste time—she was already 41 years old.
Her next awakening would mark the beginning of the war.
...
32 years after Luna entered hibernation.
The first Absolute Zero weapon was completed—much sooner than expected.
This was primarily thanks to the Hope's onboard micro-industrial system, which had greatly accelerated early production. Expanding it on the asteroid had only taken 10 years.
The remaining 22 years were dedicated to developing the weapon itself.
Ayla's theoretical database was comprehensive. The Absolute Zero weapon was not a particularly difficult concept for her to implement—its real challenge lay in its scale.
As a planet-killer class weapon, its dimensions were enormous.
The first weapon measured 11,610 meters in length, with a diameter of 945 meters, and a total mass of 40.7 billion tons.
It was constructed from 35.4 billion tons of iron and 5.3 billion tons of aluminum.
That amount of pure iron equaled roughly one-third of the total iron reserves in Earth's crust (not iron ore—pure iron), and 1.13 times its total aluminum reserves—all used to produce a single weapon.
Its scale was nearly incomprehensible.
The required materials had been mined from nearby asteroids.
In space, resources that were rare on Earth existed in abundance. A single iron-rich asteroid could contain several—sometimes dozens—of times more iron than Earth's entire reserves.
But this was only the beginning.
To produce ten such weapons, it took 162 years in total.
...
"Luna, wake up."
Luna opened her eyes.
It was now A.D. 3021.
Ayla's avatar had not changed. She smiled brightly at Luna, her expression almost cartoonish—like a character from an anime.
Luna stepped out of the hibernation pod and looked around.
Everything was just as she had left it.
And that, at least, was reassuring.
Ayla's rapid technological progress often made Luna feel as if she were struggling to keep up.
"Waking me up means something is ready, right?"
Ayla nodded.
A robot approached, pushing a food cart.
It lifted the cover, revealing a bowl of rice and ground pork with green peppers.
"This is…?"
Ayla explained.
"The previous conflict with the extraterrestrial civilization damaged the farm. After repairs, I built a more advanced agricultural system. Over the past 200 years, I perfected food synthesis technology."
"This dish was recreated using techniques equivalent to those of a master chef, based on data retrieved from Earth's culinary records."
"Please try it, Luna. We can discuss the weapons later."
Luna picked up the chopsticks and bowl, taking a bite of the pork and peppers.
Then a spoonful of rice. A tear rolled down her cheek.
It was the taste of home.
"Where did this meat come from?"
Ayla replied, "It's cultured meat, synthesized from plant-based protein."
"You can't tell the difference, can you? I've upgraded and refined the recipes for cultured meat, replicating the texture and flavor of real meat at the molecular level."
"If the difference is indistinguishable to you, then my research is a success."
Luna continued eating.
It was the best meal she'd had in nearly a thousand years.
"Can I have some more?"
One bowl wasn't enough.
After two more large servings, she was finally full.
She went to the bathroom to wash her face and paused in front of the mirror.
The reflection reminded her just how much time had passed.
She was feeling the effects of aging—her body was slowing down.
As a human, her maximum theoretical lifespan was around 130 years, but practically closer to 80 or 90. She was well into middle age.
"Ayla, is there a way to overcome my lifespan limitations?"
Ayla nodded.
"There are two viable options."
"One: mind uploading."
"After decades of development, I have mastered the technology required to upload a human mind. This would allow you to exist digitally, like I do."
"The advantage is that you would no longer be constrained by biological lifespan. The disadvantage is that we have no test subjects. There is no certainty that the uploaded entity would still be 'you,' rather than just a copy of your consciousness."
"Much like an original file and a copy labeled 'Copy 01.' The content might be identical, but they remain separate files."
"Two: genetic modification."
"Human genes inherently limit lifespan. To overcome this, genetic engineering must be used—effectively making you something no longer human."
"However, I currently do not possess this technology. My knowledge in biology is limited to theory. Without practical data or experimentation, accuracy is low."
"Biology differs from physics and chemistry. Too many interacting variables make theoretical predictions unreliable."
"I recommend, after subjugating the geothermal civilization, using them as biological research subjects."
It always came back to that.
This reaffirmed Luna's determination to defeat the geothermal species.
Leaving the bedroom, Luna followed Ayla's 3D projection to the bridge.
The main display showed a live view of space.
Towering cylindrical projectiles—designed based on Earth's ballistic missiles—floated nearby. They even retained decorative fins at their rear ends.
On the grey-white missile bodies, large text read: Ice 1.
The number "1" alone was large enough to cover several hundred football fields.
Even The Hope looked small beside these massive weapons.
Mount Everest, Earth's tallest mountain, stood at 8,848 meters.
Luna, momentarily stunned, glanced at the navigation display and noticed something odd.
"It seems we're no longer in our original location."
Ayla responded:
"Correct. Over the past few years, we've been attacked five times by the enemy civilization."
"They are still actively searching the region we previously occupied."
It was clear Ayla had endured significant danger during those years.
Noticing that the Hope still lacked visible weaponry, Luna asked:
"Now that we have Absolute Zero weapons, can we install smaller versions onto the Hope?"
The Absolute Zero weapon was designed to freeze a target's energy systems.
Its primary objective was to delay the technological progression of an enemy civilization.
This delay would provide more time for development—giving Luna and Ayla the eventual upper hand.
Development remained the most important priority.
With weapons onboard the mothership, they could finally take the offensive.
"It can be done."
Ayla's reply was brief and confident—she clearly already had a plan.
Blueprints appeared on the screen. The Hope's outer hull would be equipped with eight missile launch systems.
"These launchers will each hold 36 missiles. Upon detonation, each missile can reduce the temperature within a 260-kilometer radius to between –270 and –272°C."
"Estimated time to completion: 80 years."
Luna nodded. That was faster than she expected. She was becoming used to timelines measured in decades.
As she sat down, Ayla continued:
"Luna, the spacebar on the keyboard before you is the launch trigger. All Absolute Zero missiles are pre-targeted to the enemy planet's coordinates."
"This region of space is far from any major stars. Only the gravitational pull of the Milky Way's central black hole needs to be considered. The missile's trajectory will be nearly a straight line."
"These missiles utilize the latest electromagnetic propulsion technology, achieving a velocity of 1000 km/s—one three-hundredth the speed of light."
"The target is 471 AU away. Estimated time to impact: 2 years and 3 months."
"This decision must be made by you."
Luna stared at the spacebar.
She had pressed it countless times while gaming—just a trivial action.
But now, the same action could determine the fate of an entire civilization.
She rested her finger on the key.
Took a deep breath.
Inhaled.
Exhaled.
And pressed it.
There was no dramatic hesitation, no internal conflict. The enemy had been actively searching for them across deep space. They were enemies—no compromise was possible.
The moment she pressed the key, an Absolute Zero missile launched with a one-second delay.
Unaffected by gravity, it accelerated almost instantly into space.
Within ten minutes, it was out of visual range, its position only trackable on Ayla's holographic model.
It took ten hours for the missile to accelerate to 1000 km/s, eventually surpassing that to reach 1047 km/s.
That minor increase in speed would have taken decades of research on Earth.
The remaining missiles were set to launch every 39 years, until all ten had been deployed.
Luna watched the point where the missile had vanished. Her expression remained steady—there was no sense of relief.
Ayla's voice broke the silence.
"The enemy has detected the trajectory of our missile launch. They are approaching this location."
"Requesting immediate course correction to evade interception."
...
In the void of space,
A massive planet drifted forward at a velocity of 115 km/s.
It possessed abundant geothermal energy, which had given rise to a wide range of life forms—bacteria and algae-like plant equivalents among them.
Around each volcanic crater, small, isolated ecosystems thrived.
Over hundreds of millions of years, intelligent life eventually emerged, becoming the dominant species.
They bore no resemblance to any known category of Earth life—not animals, plants, fungi, or even protists.
If one had to classify them, they might be loosely considered eukaryotes, as their cells contained membrane-bound nuclei.
But their physical structure was unique—difficult to describe. Visually, they resembled something out of the bacterial domain.
Their bodies were gelatinous, like clusters of frog eggs, and each individual occupied 22.4 cubic meters in volume—towering giants.
Hundreds of eyes covered their outer surfaces.
The structures on the planet's surface emitted a faint bioluminescence, causing the planet to appear softly illuminated from orbit.
Yet their true civilization lay deep below the surface, in the warmer subsurface layers.
In an underground network of tunnels and structures, dozens of these beings were connected to massive transistor systems, communicating through streams of optical signals.
Each sat before a contorted screen, using their hundreds of eyes to monitor streams of data.
One such stream displayed The Hope.
They were analyzing the vessel's trajectory, attempting to determine its origin.
This effort had been ongoing for nearly two centuries.
But for these beings, 200 years was not considered a long time.
Suddenly, the screens flashed pure white, momentarily blinding them.
Panic rippled through the chamber.
As the light faded, the screens revealed the image of a cylindrical object—unidentified, approaching fast.
Immediately, orders were issued.
Ships were launched to intercept.
They fired lasers at the object.
But the lasers had no effect.
Its silvery-white surface was polished to a mirror-like smoothness, reflecting nearly all incoming energy. The minor portion that was absorbed failed to penetrate the outer shell, leaving only trivial burn marks.
Panic spread.
In their entire history, no weapon had ever failed to pierce a target.
They turned to their ground-based superlasers, but these too had no meaningful impact.
They could not allow the object to strike the planet.
Every member of the species arrived at the same conclusion: intercept it physically—crash ships into it if necessary.
Dozens of vessels were sent to intercept.
But the projectile was traveling at 1000 km/s. Any ship that made contact was instantly vaporized, reduced to fragments no larger than dust.
Unbeknownst to them, Ayla had constructed the warhead as a single solid block of iron—nearly 200 meters thick—to ensure structural integrity.
Nothing could break through it.
When the projectile came within 10 million kilometers of the planet, it suddenly altered course.
A force had acted upon it.
Magnetism.
Among the four fundamental forces, it was the most easily exploited. This civilization had clearly mastered it—while still incapable of containing nuclear fusion, they had turned magnetism into a weapon.
It was a clever move—using magnetic fields to alter the projectile's trajectory.
On the surface, the beings celebrated as the missile curved off course. The optical fiber nodes embedded in their heads glowed brightly with excitement.
But moments later, the missile adjusted itself—correcting its course and resuming its path toward the planet.
During its design phase, Ayla had simulated hundreds of millions of scenarios. The use of magnetic force by a Type I civilization was fully anticipated and accounted for.
After three failed deflection attempts, the planet's inhabitants turned to signal interference and deception.
It made no difference.
The missile carried no advanced AI. To prevent external tampering, it was guided by a simple infrared sensor.
In the cold of space, the planet's geothermal emissions were the dominant heat signature.
With all options exhausted,
Two and a half hours passed.
The missile reached the upper atmosphere.
It was too late.
Only 12 minutes remained.
The inhabitants could do nothing but watch as the object closed in.
They had no idea what it was—only that it posed an existential threat.
Twelve minutes later,
The missile struck.
Its massive velocity and weight generated such kinetic energy that it punched directly through the crust.
Like a needle through tofu, it encountered virtually no resistance.
Several kilometers below the surface, it reached the molten layer.
And then,
Click, click, click.
A soft mechanical sound echoed from within the warhead.
The heat of the magma triggered the weapon's detonator.
This had been pre-programmed.
Detonating the missile posed a significant technical challenge.
Impact detonation, as demonstrated by earlier interception attempts, carried the risk of premature explosion.
Remote detonation was equally unfeasible; the signal delay alone would have been 5.4 days—far too long for precise timing.
Thus, a heat-triggered mechanism was the most reliable and deterministic method.
The resulting explosion produced neither a shockwave nor debris.
There was no sound.
Only a wave of extreme cold radiated outward from the impact point, spreading through the crust and into the planet's core. The surrounding magma was cooled on an atomic level—bright, glowing lava dimmed and solidified in an instant.
The cooling effect continued to propagate, extending outward for 4,000 kilometers. It crossed the Mohorovičić discontinuity and reached deep into the mantle.
Simultaneously—
Cold.
This was what the planet's inhabitants gradually began to experience over the next day.
Lava flows in every volcano began to solidify. The planet's magnetic field weakened.
The chill of space began to encroach upon the surface, like an invisible tide creeping over the land.
This day marked the beginning of the end for this geothermal civilization.
From orbit, the once-radiant planet dimmed—its light fading, transforming it into a silent, lifeless world.
As the cold spread, organisms dependent on volcanic heat perished en masse.
Creatures froze instantly, preserved as ice sculptures—there was no time to react.
The surface became a graveyard of frozen life, suspended mid-action, as if time itself had halted.
Two individuals, caught mid-conversation, their overhead lights flickering and fading, stared at each other. Their hundreds of eyes expressed something—less complex than human emotion, but perhaps no less sincere.
...
One had been calculating the timeline for a long-sought promotion.
...
Another was mid-repair on a spacecraft.
...
Though civilizations may differ in form and structure, some experiences are universal.
These diverse lives were extinguished in an instant.
Nearly one-third of the planet's 387 million inhabitants died within a single day.
Fortunately, their energy infrastructure was not entirely dependent on geothermal sources. Nuclear power—developed in parallel—allowed a significant portion of the population to endure the extreme cold.
After half a month, the planet began to glow again.
Dimly. Intermittently.
A flickering light—like a somber elegy in the vacuum of space.
...
Far away, The Hope had entered a quieter region of the galaxy.
Luna had not expected a single Absolute Zero missile to so thoroughly dismantle a civilization.
She had remained awake for the past two years.
Now 43 years old, she was in good health and high spirits.
Together with Ayla, she had completed a new breakthrough.
One that could potentially raise their civilization's technological level by another 0.1—or even 0.2.