Prologue

The white dwarf was a distant glowing ember floating in the void, barely brighter than the scattered diamonds of the galactic disk beyond.  The forgotten star bathed the system with the last emissions of its final, quiet eons of death. Orbiting the dying sun were the charred and lifeless remains of its children, their black and fractured orbs absorbing the feeble light, giving back almost nothing in return.

Aside from these last fragments, the system had died over a billion years ago. The millennia-long paroxysms that had claimed the planets’ atmospheres were long extinguished. What life might once have thrived there was less than a memory for the vast celestial engine that continued to spin, oblivious to the tragedy that had claimed it. It was a catastrophe that had destroyed countless similar suns, and would destroy countless more as the inexorable forces of entropy marched down through time.

The largest remnant spinning though the silent parade, a dull and melted sphere, had once been the core of a massive gas giant before its voracious parent had devoured its heavy atmosphere. The relic wobbled along in an erratic orbit, still reeling from the grievous deathblow. Had any sentient being felt tempted to visit the dark corpse, it would have taken inordinate skill and stamina to keep station with the dead husk for long. The moon-sized craft that orbited the planet did not suffer the weaknesses or limitations of sentience, however.

Blacker than the most brutalized planetary remains in the system, the shape appeared more a hole in the star field beyond than something concrete and real. It’s blocky, utilitarian shape was unmarred by the violence that had claimed its current home. The ship had kept its vigil for eons. Civilizations had risen and fallen out in the wider galaxy while it followed its silent, purposeful course through the ages. 

Deep beneath the vessel’s matte shell, whispers of thought flashed through ancient crystal matrices. There was no awareness behind these whispers. There was no conscious direction behind the thoughts. Patterns and duties set thousands of years ago continued in the silence of the giant hull. Translucent frameworks flashed in slow, steady rhythms as the cadences of the galaxy beyond were tasted, compared, and stored in memory stacks nestled in the heart of the sentinel.

Without warning, the hull vibrated with an imperceptible motion detectable only from the thin layer of celestial dust that shivered free, glittering in the faint light of the distant, dying star. A dim red light formed a rectangle beneath the dispersing motes. A hatch receded, dwarfed by the impenetrable darkness behind. The crimson glow brightened, and then was eclipsed by a spindly shape the matte black of the vessel itself. An armature pushed a bundle of tubes, dishes, and wires through the faint cloud of debris, bringing the instruments in line with the dull metal core of the planetoid below.

Time meant little within the echoing silence of the dead system. The insectile limb hung still and silent for what might have been an age.

Without warning, the instruments stabbed downward. Gravitic power relays and crystalline conduits flashed with a brilliant pulse of intense green light. For a moment, the flank of the giant machine leapt out of the darkness, its structure outlined in fierce jade glory. Massive doors and hatches were scattered across its huge surface, vanes and bulbs protruded here or there following no perceptible pattern. There was no sign of a window, sensor array, or lens of any kind along the entire, colossal length.

A beam of coherent light pierced the remnant atmosphere of the planetoid below. The column struck the slagged sphere in the middle of a wide field of melted craters. The dull surface, greedy for a taste of heat and light, absorbed everything the beam could provide. The lance of energy struck deep into the incredibly dense material, seeking out its core, interacting with ultra-rare elements that had been smelted down in the cosmic furnace of the system’s death. Naturally-occurring matrices of heavy metals came alive within the crust of the planet, and the entire orb rang like the largest bell ever struck. Countless vibrations rippled through the material of the planet and were cast out into space.

Waves and particles of a million varieties spread forth, each following the esoteric rules of its type. Some wrapped themselves around the various dead bodies of the system and returned at once to their point of origin. These were ignored by the hulk floating overhead. Many stretched forth their ethereal fingers, and would not return for hundreds or thousands of years. The sentinel was infinitely patient. Some special few flew outward at staggering speeds, passing tachyons and luxons in their haste to reach the far corners of the galaxy.

The blazing column vanished without fanfare, plunging everything back into endless night. The planet below was silent and dark once more, save for a single glowing crater that quickly cooled and disappeared into the gathering black. Aside from the dim crimson glow from the open hatch, the entire system was dead once again.

The armature drew its bundle back through the hatch. Vague hints of movement within followed, shadows cast out into the void, and then a second shape emerged. A silvery orb slid out into the night and came to a smooth halt.

Again, an unknowable length of time crept past. When echoes of the swiftest waves began to return, the orb shivered. There was no other sign that some of the most powerful elements in the galaxy had been harnessed to a coherent, measured purpose.

The orb was withdrawn, the dull red light eclipsed once again as the hatch closed. Deep within the sentinel, whispers of thoughts returned. Ancient patterns were followed. The paths of the net cast from the dead system were studied rote, mindless precision. Data was separated, weighed, measured, and stored for some possible future purpose.

Nothing had been found.

There was no frustration at this lack of progress. There was no acknowledgment of empty eons sloughing by, except as yet another data point to be catalogued.

Colossal locks slid back into place, securing the huge hatch.

The leviathan had been created for a very specific purpose. It was a hunter, built to scent a particular prey, possibly the most dangerous prey the galaxy had ever known. Every system within the enormous hulk confirmed that this prey had not been detected. None of the ancient parameters so much as hinted at the prey’s stirring.

But the sentinel was patient. It was singularly devoted to its purpose, neither restlessness nor anxiety designed into its temperament.

Deep within the massive hull the last stray components settled back into their cradles. Power slowed to a trickle as its fiery heart was banked once again, its full potentiality relaxing into a quiet, wary rest.

The dust began to settle once more over the dull black hull, and the dead system was plunged once again into the deathly stillness of a crypt.