The Space Rider

Darkness. Silence. Solitude. The Rider trailed on, through the endless void. Dim, distant stars observed his progression quietly as his small cruiser advanced, disturbing the darkness with its blue glow. Inside his cockpit, the rider slept. His craft was a one-person device, not much bigger than an earthly motorcycle. He has set his cryoPad to wake him five hours before his entry into the Fandor solar system. There, his task would be the same it always was. Infiltrate. Deceive. Pillage. The Space Rider had long ago been bestowed a cursed responsibility. In a dying universe, where the endless expansion of space meant a distant yet inevitable road leading to emptiness, the Rider had been tasked with the creation of new galaxies. But to create, something must be destroyed. There are some planets, in the universe, that can harbor life. Some may call it a probability, a coincidence, an unlikely combination of rare factors. They are far from the truth. Within select, unique planets, chosen for their position rather than their qualities, entities our minds could not depict planted, long ago, seeds of life. And these “seeds” are but a material. Just like iron, or coal, these entities inserted into the core of these planets, matter called alfite. This matter is what allows for a planet to evolve in the direction needed for the creation of conditions suitable for life to exist. It is the matter of creation. Yet it is also what is required to create a galaxy. In large quantities. And the only source of alfite left in the universe, is in these planets’ cores. If alfite is removed, the planets slowly, but invariably, crumble back towards lifeless hunks of rock. And so the Space Rider’s task is laid bare. Steal. Destroy. To create.