THE END OF BEGINNINGS

TWENTY-THREE

    Far across the galaxy, on a lonely planet at the edge of a vast and phosphorus nebula, twilight was giving way to a calm and quiet night. Under a hazy blanket of stars, an old man was leaning idly against his cart. His attention was focused on a dense stalk of pale-colored grass and the shallow grooves that had been carved into its surface. He didn't notice the subtle distortion in the heavens far above him-not that it lasted long enough to really be noticed. A tiny cloud of excited particles burst open in a flash and then was gone nearly an instant later. In its place were six tiny dots. They glided swiftly and silently across the star field. A few seconds after they had appeared they were directly over the old man's head, sweeping past the sleepy planet. They weren't supposed to matter to the old man, or anyone else on the planet, anyway. Little did anyone know, that was about to change.
    At the front of the wagon, the old man's long-necked mount began to stir. It snorted loudly into the night air. It kicked at the dirt with one of its six legs before pulling at the heavy reigns connecting it to the tall-sided, wooden cart.
    "Hey now," the old man said, lifting his head to look away from the tube of grass in his thick hands. "Steady. They should be here any moment."
    The animal snorted again. Suddenly, the still night came alive. The vertical, stone ring the old man had parked his wagon near began to shake. Hidden parts whirred loudly. Symbols around the inner track lit up. The old man had turned around at the sound of the commotion. His eyes followed the quick sequence of blue gems turning on one by one. As soon as a seventh began to glow, the open space in the center of the ring exploded with light. The dark shapes of stout trees around the gravel-lined spot became awash with the bright, blue-white radiance pouring out of the open portal.
    The old man watched the placid surface of the shimmering doorway begin to ripple. Shapes bent and bulged in the watery curtain. The old man smiled when the first member of his visiting family emerged out of the mystical circle. It was his daughter. Behind her were her four children, followed lastly by her husband. They filed away from the softly humming portal, arriving at the old man and his cart just as the dazzling light blinked out.
    He hugged his family, happy for their visit for the season ahead. He was helping his grandchildren into the back of the wagon when everyone suddenly stopped. The silver-hued ring nearby began to stir once more. The crystal-blue chevrons around the outer-most track lit up rapidly. The upright portal erupted open once again, bathing the small clearing in bright, pale light. The turbulent surface had barely settled down when a powerful ripple spread across the liquid-like curtain.
A long, dart-shaped object rocketed out of the ring's core. The family shouted in frightened surprise, ducking close to the tall cart. The strange craft pointed itself up towards the sky, narrowly missing the treetops across from the portal. Its noisy whine pressed painfully into their ears as it accelerated away. But right behind it, another dart leapt from the open portal. It followed the path of the first almost exactly. It had just cleared the trees when another of the mysterious ships appeared out of the portal. The family watched the trio of vessels climb higher and higher toward the stars. They barely noticed the light of the ring go dark again.
    The six dots that had raced across the planet's sky were the cargo and crew ships of the Baklorosh Special Convoy. They were closing in on a space station sitting idly in a high orbit near the little planet. The light of the nearby sun glinted off the station's long body. The awaiting facility was a recently completed research post and laboratory composed of a dozen large modules. Four of the largest of these jutted out from around the station's central axis.
    The captain of the lead ship stared at the bright paint of the station's outer hull. He stood behind his helmsmen inside the cramped cockpit. As one of the pilot's steered the ship closer to the awaiting station, the other reported the most current status of their flight to the man standing near his shoulder. The captain acknowledged the younger man's words before instructing him to send the activation signal to the space station's sleeping systems. The three men watched as lights across the orbiting structure began to blink and turn on.
    They were less than a minute away.
    The convoy began to separate, each of the six ships heading for an assigned docking port. The captain continued to watch out the wide viewport in front of the pilots. He was about to ask for an update from each of the other ships when an alarmed voice filled the open channel. A flash of firelight lit up one side of the viewport. More panicked shouts suddenly flooded the communications channel. They were coming from every ship in the convoy. The captain was doing his best to hear the racing, garbled words through the blaring whine of alarms. One phrase finally came through loud and clear: "Attack! We are under attack!"
    "What is it? Who is attacking us," the captain asked his flight crew hurriedly.
    "No idea, sir," the pilot replied, barely looking over his shoulder.
    "Where did they come from?"
    "I'm not sure," the copilot said. "Possibly from the planet?"
    "Impossible. The culture on that planet is at least a century from basic air travel."
    The lead pilot looked up form a display screen beside him. "Captain, two of the crew ships have been completely destroyed."
    "Baklorosh 3 is severely damaged and losing power," the copilot reported.
    "Bring us about," the captain ordered. "Let's try to draw their fire-"
    "They're already targeting us!"
    "Captain, sensors are showing one of the ships is scanning us!"
    "Evasive maneuvers! I'm sending a distress signal. Instruct the other captains to do the-"
    A powerful blast shoved the captain into the console beside him. The floor under his feet heaved and shook. The pair of pilots grunted loudly, their arms straining to keep their ship under control. "We're hit, sir," the copilot shouted. "They're weapons are breaking right through our shields!"
    "Where-Where are they? Can you identify them?"
    "There, captain! One of them is heading for the station."
    "He's firing on it, sir," the pilot said frightfully.
    "How many are out there? Can you get a count? Report!"
    "Trying, sir. Sensor arrays are damaged."
    The pilot groaned as the controls in his grasp shimmied violently. The entire ship shuddered. "Shields are completely gone, sir! Aft deck is reporting a hull br-"
    Alarms wailed with deafening volume around the quaking cockpit.
    "An engine, sir," the copilot shouted. "We've lost an engine! They've taken out engine two!"
    "Captain, look! The station...it's coming apart."
    "Captain, all the other ships have stopped broadcasting."
    "Sir, I have no control. And power levels are dropping across the ship."
    The captain was about to say something else, to offer some last effort they could try. He didn't get a chance. The second helmsman pointed out the viewport. For the first time, they could clearly see their attackers. All three of the dart-shaped ships were converging on them. The men in the smoky compartment watched helplessly as the lead dart opened fire one last time.
    The captain put a hand on each helmsman's shoulder. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes before the powerful bursts of searing energy fatally sank into the wide viewport.