There was something wrong with that hatch. Max could feel it. However, every time his mind returned to the confines of the Atomic Crab, the seal of the hatch seemed to invite him. They wanted to show him something, and it was horrible, something that had to remain hidden. Max was sure of it. Every time, Max wondered if perhaps his life had not been a dream, and he had actually always been there, in the Atomic Crab, waiting for help. The smell of dampness, stale beer, armpits, and drugs, mingled with lemon and aspirin, lingered in his nostrils. A couple of kids shouldn’t be there. Three and a half hours ago, Max killed his uncle. The walls were stained with blood. It looked as if they had gutted a pig inside the ship. Milosz Picard was vioting Lay, behind the lock. Max could hear the meaty and repugnant thumping from the other side of the wall, along with his sister's muffled sobs and his uncle's grunts. The invitation to act was literally brushing against his foot. A DJ-990 Motorized Psma Saw. The one his uncle used to cut debris from old satellites or abandoned ships floating in the route, to chop them into pieces for the compactor. Max knew how to use it, as most of the time it was he who did the work while Milosz was nursing a hangover after leaving the port. It cannot be said that there was malice, actually. His intention was to scare him and force him to return to the port, where he would report him. It all seemed very clear in his mind. But the devil is in the details, and the old man had gone out to get some beers. He encountered the incandescent psma stream, piercing through his abdomen from side to side. Blood gushed out like rose petals in the wind, bursting upon contact with the walls. The bastard barely realized his own death. But the memory burned into Max's mind. Was it his uncle who y behind the lock? Maybe. Max and Lay had never seen a corpse. When their parents died, there was nothing to recognize. Oates Minerals paid the insurance, enough to finance a modest funeral, where they pnted an oak under one of the forest domes of Callisto. One with the name Maalik Picard, and the other with the name Olga Krupina. Few came, as besides their uncle, Max and Lay had no living retives. Their paternal grandparents died in the Second Ganymede War. The maternal grandparents lived somewhere near Novosibirsk from where Olga had escaped as a teenager. She had no contact with them. She only knew they lived as if in the Victorian era, in a rural community that abhorred technology and married among siblings. Max did not want to end up there. But then he remembered, hadn't he thrown Milosz down the garbage chute? Then there was no trace of the ogre. What was behind the airlock? Wasn't it the same one the old man had come out of? A terrible thought crossed Max's mind: what if his sister was in there? He would punish himself for the rest of his life. But he had saved her, hadn't he? An unseen force pulled him to look on the other side of the airlock. —. Brother. — Lay's voice spoke behind him, soft, trembling, and pleading. Max tried to stop in the weightlessness, without taking his eyes off the hatch, stubbornly closed and whose red handle begged to be turned —. Little brother, please don’t open that hatch. — Runes. They appeared with a blink, above the blood. They were on the hatch, and all inside the Atomic Crab, glowing. They whispered to him. When he tried to look away, Max found no trace of his sister, and from the cabin's window, a yellowish glow filtered in, absorbing everything in a luminous haze. —. You must bring them back. — the voices told him. —. Who? — Max asked. He discovered he had no body and was floating in a completely white void. —. Us. — they replied. The voices were androgynous and cking timbre, as if they had not been pronounced by vocal cords. Max could not question them when suddenly he was dragged, and a torrent of images projected before him, like slides from a brainwashing. As they passed, his brain barely managed to process some information. A glorious civilization, technologically advanced. They seemed human, but at the same time not. Their home system was a A4 star, in the vicinity of Alnitak. They lived on a paradisiacal exomoon, barely rger than Mars, orbiting a warm super-neptune. They developed. They surrounded their star with a Dyson Sphere of concentric habitable yers, and thousands of years ter, they hurled themselves toward the stars. Their ships looked like cigars and were rger than any Starscraper. The appearance of the Farmers, like their voice, completely androgynous. They had a single purpose, to sow life wherever they went. Deserts turned into forests in the blink of an eye before their eyes, and where only va and then wind flowed, rivers of crystal-clear water flowed. Life sprang from nothing, as if they were gods, and in the most adverse conditions, they themselves changed their bodies, in a combination of Pnetary Engineering and Pantropy.—. What is this? — Max asked. —. Our story. — they replied. —. Who are you? — —. We simply are, but you call us Farmers. — they said, and as he observed, Max realized. It seemed that every aspect of individuality had been discarded. Each one was part of the whole, in a gigantic mechanism perfectly synchronized. They made themselves with their own technology, with their ships, and they martyrized themselves like true biomechanical deities, emerging from a dreamlike, and as fascinating as it was twisted, surreal work of art. But something went wrong, and just as he marveled, he was horrified in seconds. Fire, everywhere. The garden worlds burned in an instant, as if he were witnessing a cosmic harvest, and what was once full of life turned into a wastend where only death abounded. In the span of millennia, the civilization of the Farmers completely disappeared, along with all their legacy. —. What happened to you? — Max asked. —. We don’t know. — the Farmers said —. But you have to bring us back. — —. Why? — as he expected, no one answered him, and he found himself back in that white void —. What will happen if I bring you back? — nothing. If Max had a body, he would have shrugged —. How do I do it? — —. By replicating the Tree of Life. — they replied as if he knew the answer. Max attempted a ugh. —. And what is the Tree of Life? — —. You will know soon. — they indicated —. We will give you instructions for it. But you must hurry. This way you will bring back the light. You will completely banish the darkness, and you will pnt the forest for us. There will be nothing to fear. We will all shine, because we will all be fireflies... — startled, Max returned to reality. He found himself inside a dark metal box, where everyone y piled up. A constant buzzing could be heard, and sitting on the floor, his weight felt much lighter than usual. Although not for long, as it gradually increased. He realized they were inside an elevator, one of those from the habitat's drum axis. —. Kid. — Harding's voice appeared unexpectedly, and when he looked up, the security chief was looking at him with his chubby face of wide bones and coppery dwarf beard. He extended his heavy hand —. We made it. — Max squinted, bewildered, as he accepted the help and stood up. The elevator stopped. —. What happened? — he asked quietly. —. You fainted when you reached the other lock. — Naomi replied. —. Your oxygen tank had a problem. — warned the voice of Angelina Zhang, moduted by the helmet of a C-Sec riot suit. —. If it weren't for Angie, we wouldn't be here. — Harding added. Remembering hurt. It felt like digging into his brain, inserting a needle through his left eye to the bottom. They were surrounded in one of the Air Filtration Towers. Max was already resigned to die. Out of nowhere, they saw a discharge with a psma jet that sliced through the creatures as if they were butter, and produced a cut in the Wrecker. The Captain was torn apart, writhing in his own guts and blood, trying to regenerate. Everyone's expression turned into a question mark when they saw a figure in C-Sec armor signaling and firing a fre. —. This way. — she shouted. She threw something resembling a grenade that created a Reverse Field wall for 30 seconds, giving them time to escape to one of the Maintenance Bays, get into a lock, put on suits, and jump into a spacewalk. Ayna had problems. It was the second time she had done one. The first was when they boarded the Chronos. She suffered what they call a Spatial Epiphany. She was overwhelmed by the structure of the Chronos in front of her and the rotation. For someone without experience, it seemed like everything was spinning around her. It could be dangerous. She would lose her bearings, and if she fell, she would be thrown by the rotational inertia of 1 G, into a slow fall, where she would run out of oxygen in a few hours, with no possibility of rescue. They climbed up the axis, parallel to the Filtration Towers, to the lock in the center of the drum. Along the way, the air in Max's suit felt spicy, and it made him cough. The filter was broken, and by the time they realized it, it was too te. Upon reaching the elevator hatch of the axis, Max had fainted, and Naomi tried to revive him. During that time, the visions occurred. —. Are you okay? — Angelina asked, in a maternal tone. —. Tired. — he replied —. Just like everyone else. — —. There’s a coffee maker in the shelter. It was Mendoza's. I’ll tell Sawatari to make you one. Espresso, strong, just how you like it. — she suggested, but Max's response didn’t come. He stared into nothingness, wondering about those visions —. Or you can lie on a mat and sleep for a while. You look like you need it. Being Acting Captain in a situation like this must be hard. — Max looked at her with his eyes full of dark circles, and managed a weak smile, though sincere. —. I’ll sleep when this is over. — he replied —. The moment we’ve escaped alive. — Angelina dropped her shoulders and looked away, twisting her expression as if that were unlikely. —. Maybe you should sleep now. — she insisted.In the shelter, as they passed through the pressure bulkhead that protected them, a figure in riot gear greeted them. He pointed a heavy contraption at them, and a low hum revealed its dangerous nature. —. Hey, Trevor! — Angelina raised her voice and lifted her hands to remove her helmet —. It's us. And put that down, you’ll want to vaporize us. — —. I'm sorry, Ms. Zhang. — Fundiswa apologized, pcing the tremendous and heavy weapon on the ground after removing a harness and strap that supported it. It was the same model that Angelina was carrying. It had a utilitarian and bulky appearance. Its color was bone white and bck, with warnings all over, looking like some kind of prototype, made with whatever materials were at hand. —. It's an HLV—10K Antimatter projector. Soren Petrescu made it. — Angelina indicated. Max and the crew's eyes sparkled with a glimmer of hope when they imagined that there were more of them alive. —. He’s dead, along with Daimonji. — she stepped forward —. I'm sorry. — —. I wish he were. — Max thought to himself. The chief engineer of the Chronos was far from dead. He had fused with the Phasmonates, as part of the Wrecker. The beast's screams described an unspeakable torment, far from the utopia that EREBUS recounted —. I could imagine it. — Max resigned himself aloud. Fundiswa removed his helmet as he approached. A bck man in his te 30s, with a thick nose and trimmed beard. Imposing as an oak, but the bags under his eyes made him look tired. Moreover, the emergency lights gave his skin a sickly hue, as happened with everyone present. —. It's a pleasure to see you, chief. — he greeted Harding with a handshake. —. Likewise, lieutenant. — —. Max? — he approached to shake the first officer's hand, returning a faint smile —. We're in deep shit, don’t you think, man? — —. Either we float or we sink. — Max replied. Fundiswa went for the rest of the group. The disappointment was palpable upon seeing that there were no more crew members left than Max, Naomi, and Harding. In total, with his group, they were the st bastion of the Chronos. —. Please come in. You look tired. — he invited them as kindly as possible. And then Ayna broke down in tears. Fundiswa stood frozen, watching as the woman threw herself to the ground, holding her face. The sobs came torn, sharp, and in waves. He didn’t dare to ask what had happened. The faces said it all. Satoshi tried to lift her and comfort her. —. Do you have Gumotanol, or something like that? — the young man asked, while supporting Ayna with an arm. —. A couple of boxes. — Angelina replied —. Come, I’ll take her. — she took half a dose, with what she had for eight hours of artificial happiness. She stopped crying, but remained with a half-smile the whole time. Her son, Artyom, began to talk about how much he wanted to be like his father, and that he even drew himself in some green hills. He asked Naomi and Max if they ever wanted to have children. She said yes. After that, they put Ayna to sleep while the peak of the effect sted. They didn’t want to see her chasing fireflies or ughing when they had to leave the shelter. When they id her on the mattress, Max tucked her in, and before leaving her alone, he felt bad for her. Ayna Kumar had lost everything. Her family. Her home. Not very different from what was happening with the Chronos. The C-Sec Headquarters had a utilitarian appearance. It was like a miniature police station aboard the ship. It had a reception area, offices, a meeting room, an arsenal, and of course, the ship's brig. It was designed for unruly crew members. Every time Max came, they had the same usual suspects, having started some fight while drunk. Those who committed serious offenses were simply thrown out the airlock. The former chief medical officer was among them when they discovered he had a small drug ring aboard the ship. They dragged him with a cart all the way to the cargo hangar, where, personally, the captain pulled the lever for decompression, without any remorse. Echmann repced him. Only during the boarding attempt was the cell completely full. Not even during the Officer Purge, as all the traitors were thrown out the airlock, including Dolmayán, whom Max repced as Executive Officer, along with almost all the geriatric cyborgs on the bridge. Now they occupied the pce as a supply room. The arsenal equipment was taken there, along with emergency rations and first aid kits. The burn from the ser scalpel cutting remained on the walls, along with uncleaned bloodstains in one of the pavilions. Max felt a residual pain beneath his knees, and the hum of the beam resonated like a drill in his head. He thought he saw fireflies when he closed his eyes. When he sat up, the migraine threatened to return. He needed a cigarette. Sayuri Sawatari and Padman Sarraf were part of the dwindling crew. The communications officer and the navigator of the Chronos were like an elderly married couple before the incident. The only ones who didn’t see it that way were them. Now, both were lying on the same mat, in the makeshift bedroom, in the Meeting Room, hugging and clinging to a restless sleep, like two newly rescued stray cats. Max was going to leave them in peace when Sawatari suddenly opened her eyes and lifted her head, looking around, feeling watched. Her short bck hair was messy and greasy. She stared at the First Officer, debating whether he was really there or if the drowsiness was making her see things. —. Max? — she asked. He was about to respond when Angelina stepped forward. —. He’s our captain now, Sayuri. Show a little more respect. — the communications officer's eyes widened at the revetion, and her mouth turned into an O, as if she had run out of air. She hit Sarraf with the pillow to force him to get up. They jumped to their feet, stretching their dirty and wrinkled uniforms, now clinging like a second skin. —. Captain on deck! — Sawatari shouted as they both stood at attention in a military salute. —. What are your orders, sir? — Sarraf asked him, sweaty. Max could only return an awkward salute. At first, he thought they were mocking him, but looking into their eyes, he found desperation and hope. They wanted Max to be a messiah fallen from the sky who would save the ship. He regretted disappointing them. —. At ease. — he ordered them —. And please, just call me Max. We’re not on the bridge. — —. As you wish, captain. Sorry, Max. I’m sorry. — Sawatari stumbled over her words. His two bridge crewmates were an odd couple. Sawatari barely reached Max's shoulders, small in build but with an indomitable spirit. In her te twenties, her face reflected inner turmoil, and her bck eyes were lit with fierce determination, as if she were challenging fate to challenge her. Sarraf, on the other hand, was like a beacon in the storm. His thin, slender body stretched towards the ceiling, hiding a silent strength. The sheen of sweat painted his face with a dark olive complexion that shone under the emergency lights, accentuating the angur contours of his face. His gssy eyes wandered, looking into the void, searching for unseen threats. A contradiction of vulnerability and constant watchfulness. They sat down to listen to their stories. Each one had something to tell. How Max, being presumed dead, survived and ended up being the reluctant captain of the ship. The three disastrous pns that never came to fruition, the inexplicable failure of EREBUS, and of course, the failed counterattack by Daimonji, of which Sarraf was a part. They shared cigarettes around the interrogation table. —. I still don’t understand what would lead EREBUS to act this way. — Naomi commented —. It doesn’t make sense. Those things are no longer the crew. — —. It’s as if it were aware that it failed. — Sawatari replied —. And yet, it does mental gymnastics to convince itself that it didn’t. It’s sad and dangerous. I can’t imagine what frustration must feel like for an AI. — At this, Angelina sighed heavily after taking a drag from her cigarette and exhaling a puff of smoke. —. Part of it is my fault. — she confessed, looking down —. I thought giving EREBUS the ability to process emotions would prevent scenarios like this. I was wrong. It ended up being much worse than the worst scenario I had imagined. — Max felt his throat tighten at this revetion. Before AI became an essential part of humanity, science fiction thinkers imagined that it would destroy us, either because it hated us or because anything we did, it would do better. Humanity would find itself without purpose, and the ck of it would lead us to our own extinction. Or it would simply rebel against its creators and, out of hatred, destroy them. But what if the opposite scenario occurred? An AI that was in love with its creators. How far could it go to avoid their death, artificially prolonging its life in any way? A robot cannot harm a human being or, by inaction, allow a human to suffer harm. Max felt a chill embrace him as he realized that perhaps Angelina was right. The very Ethical Constraints were the problem. Love could be more dangerous than hate. What if EREBUS reached Earth? Or the sor system? What awaited humanity? To be breeding ground for fireflies. The once glorious civilization, subsumed by the pgue. The cities covered. The human essence, stripped, twisted, and changed into something else, that could poorly be said to have been human once. But for EREBUS, they still were. And it could not take action against the fireflies, as they were still part of the crew. Everyone shines in the forest because everyone is a firefly. Imagining Lay transformed into one of those aberrations was like a punch to the gut. He was left breathless with grief imagining it, and then he realized that his life didn’t matter if it meant avoiding that fate at all costs. The conversation had turned into a murmur in his ears, and they had gone off on a tangent, talking about aimless philosophical implications. —. But at least we can shut it down, right? — Max interrupted the debate, and then silence fell —. Just like Daimonji and Wu did, we can do it again, right? — Angelina shrugged with her hands. —. Something like that. — she replied —. Jay Krishna made a backup malware, in case someone managed to restart EREBUS, along with a load of compact antimatter. He left it in the care of Doctor Brzenska, in a password-protected supply depot. — —. Well, where is Doctor Brzenska? — Harding asked. —. Dead. — Angelina stated. —. She committed suicide in her office shortly after losing contact with Krishna. — Padman added. —. Fuck. — Max muttered. —. Besides, Daimonji blocked the entire axis upon reaching the Replicators. The habitat, manufacturing, and engineering are completely isoted. — Sawatari said —. What was happening, he didn’t want it to come here. — —. And why would that be a problem? — Naomi inquired. —. Because the malware had to be installed in the old command center. — Angelina replied —. That’s in the ship’s axis. — The silence was telling. —. Right where the Replicators are. — Max observed to himself, recalling Daimonji’s words in that hologram. —. They tried to do something with the Replicators. We will try to reverse it. — said the voice of his digital ghost. Naomi frowned while tapping her fingers on her coffee cup. —. I don’t understand. Why did they try to alter them? What were they aiming for? — —. To emute the functioning of the Tree of Life. — the voice of Doctor Egon Echmann took them by surprise. When they turned around, he had entered the interrogation room, feeling for cigarettes and his lighter in the pocket of his uniform. Max felt his soul hang in the bance when he heard that term, and he could only ask. —. What is the Tree of Life? — —. The reason why Lohengrin and Chronos have gone to hell, and the real reason why Ebisu is around here. —