Then they found more cracks.
“Look, what’s going on now?” someone shouted as its rotation brought another part of Devourer’s surface into view. A dazzling bright light began glowing on the edge of its metal continent as if dawn were creeping over its vast horizon.
“The rotational engine!” an officer called out.
“Indeed. It is the rarely used equatorial rotational engine!” the Marshal explained. “It is firing at full power, trying to stop the Devourer’s rotation!”
“Marshal, you were spot on and this proves it!”
“We must act now and use all available means to gather detailed data so that we can run a simulation!” the Marshal commanded. Even as he spoke, the entire Supreme Command was already executing the task.
In the past century a mathematical model had been developed that precisely described the Devourer’s physical structure. The required data was gathered and it ran very efficiently, and so the results were quickly produced: It would take nearly 40 hours for the rotational engine to reduce the Devourer’s rotation to a speed at which it could avoid destruction. Yet, in only 18 hours the centrifugal forces would completely break it to pieces.
A cheer rose among the Supreme Command. The big screen shone with the holographic image of the Devourer’s coming demise: The process of the break up would be very slow, almost like a dream. Against the pitch-black of space, this giant world would disperse like milk foam floating on coffee, its edges gradually breaking off, only to be swallowed by darkness beyond. It looked like the Devourer was melting into space. Only the occasional flash of an explosion now revealed its disintegrating form.
The Marshal did not join the others as they watched this soul-soothing display of destruction. He stood apart from the group, focused at another screen, carefully observing the real Devourer. His face betrayed no trace of triumph. As calm returned to the bridge, the others began to take notice of him. One after the other they joined him at the screen. There they quickly discovered that the blue light at the Devourer’s aft had reappeared.
The Devourer had restarted its engine.
Given the critical state the ring structure was already in, this seemed like an utterly unfathomable mistake. Any acceleration, no matter how minute, could cause a catastrophic breakup. But it was the Devourer’s trajectory that truly baffled the onlookers: It was ever so slowly retracing its steps, returning to the position it had held before its evasive maneuvers. It was carefully reestablishing its synchronous orbit and re-aligning its axis of rotation with Earth’s.
“What? Does it still want to devour the Earth?” an officer exclaimed, both shocked and confused.
His question provoked a few scattered laughs. All laughter, however, soon fell silent as the others became aware of the look on the Marshal’s face. He was no longer looking at the screen. His eyes were closed. His face was blank and drained of all color. In the past hundred years, the officers and personnel who had made fending off the Devourer a pillar of their soul had become very familiar with the Marshal’s countenance. They had never seen him like this. A calm fell over the gathered Supreme Command as they turned back to the screen. Finally they understood the gravity of the situation.
There was a way out for the Devourer.
The Devourer’s flight toward the Earth had begun. It had already matched the Earth in both orbital speed and rotation as it approached the planet’s South Pole.
If it took too long, the Devourer’s own centrifugal forces would tear it apart; if it went too fast, the power of its propulsion would rip it to pieces. The Devourer’s survival was hanging on a thin thread. It had to hold to a perfect balance between timing and speed.
Before the Earth’s South Pole was enveloped by the Devourer’s giant ring, the Supreme Command could see the shape of the frozen continent change rapidly. Antarctica was shrinking, like butter in a hot frying pan. The world’s oceans were being pulled toward the South Pole by the immense gravity of the Devourer and now the Earth’s white tip was being swallowed by their billowing waters.
As this happened, the Devourer, too, was changing. Many new cracks began to cover its body, and all of them were growing longer and wider. The first few tears were now no longer black seams, but gaping chasms glowing with crimson light. They could easily have been mistaken for thousands of miles-long portals to Hell.
In the midst of all this destruction, a few fine white strands rose from the ring’s massive body. Then, more and more of these filaments emerged, flowing from every part of the Devourer’s body. It almost looked like the huge ship had sprouted a sparse head of white hair. In fact, they were the engine trails of ships being launched from the great ring. The Devourers were fleeing their doomed world.
Half of the Earth had already been encircled by the Devourer when things took a turn for the worse: The Earth’s gravity was acting almost like the invisible spokes of a cosmic wheel, bearing the disintegrating Devourer. No new cracks were appearing on its surface and the already open rips had ceased growing. Forty hours later, the Earth had been completely engulfed by the Devourer. The effect of the planet’s gravity was stronger here and the cracks on the Devourer’s surface were beginning to close. Another five hours later, they had completely closed.
In the control ship, all the screens of the Supreme Command had gone black and even the lights went dark. The only remaining source of illumination was the deathly pale rays of the Sun piercing through the portholes. In order to generate artificial gravity, the mid-section of the ship was still slowly rotating. As it did, the Sun rose and fell, porthole to porthole. Light and shadow wandered, as if it were replaying humanity’s forever bygone days and nights.
“Thank you for a century of dutiful service,” the Marshal said. “Thank you all.” He saluted the Supreme Command. Under the gaze of the officers and personnel, he calmly folded up his uniform. The others followed his example.
Humanity had been defeated. The defenders of Earth had done their utmost to discharge their duties and as soldiers they had still done their duty gloriously. In spirit, they all accepted their unseen medals with clear conscience. They were entitled to enjoy this moment.
CHAPTER 8
Epilogue: The Return
“There really is water!” a young lieutenant shouted with joyous surprise. It was true; a vast surface of water stretched out before them. Sparkling waves shimmered under the dusky heavens.
The Marshal removed the gloves of his spacesuit. With both hands he scooped up some water. Opening his visor, he ventured a taste. As he quickly closed his visor again, he said, “Hey, it’s not too salty.” When he saw that the lieutenant was about to open his own visor, he stopped him. “You’ll suffer decompression sickness. The composition of the atmosphere is actually not the problem; the poisonous sulfuric components in the air have already thinned out. However, the atmospheric pressure is too low. Without a visor it is like being at thirty thousand was before the war.”
A general dug in the sand at his feet. “Maybe there’s some grass seeds,” he said, smiling as he raised his head to look at the Marshal.
The Marshal shook his head as he replied. “Before the war, this was the bottom of the ocean.”
“We can go have a look at New Land Eleven. It’s not far from here. Maybe we can find some there,” the lieutenant suggested
“Any will have been long ago burned,” someone said with a sigh.
Each of them scanned the horizon in all directions. They were surrounded by an unbroken chain of mountains only recently born by the orogenic movements of the Earth. They were dark blue massifs made of bare rock. Rivers of magma spilling from their peaks glowed crimson, like blood oozing from the body of slain stone titan.