Lhuron was bored. He had just finished the tedious task of
contemplating the ultimate fate of an obscure spiral galaxy, each
solar system, planet, and insignificant species; right down to each
grain of sand it contained from the moment it was spun from energized
clouds of dust eons ago until its ultimate collision with a larger
spiral galaxy, many billions of years from when (and you could say
where) he floated.
As a bored being of energy and intellect, Lhuron focused that
laser-sharp mind onto his own kind, the Waalh, to figure out why they
search the universe. What he discovered surprised him. There is an
emptiness and aching need. The Waalh are alone.
At a crucial juncture of Waalh history, they
concluded that it was immoral to interfere with the development of
sentient species; they swouldn't be party to what amounted
to slavery and oppression by meddling. Even if that meant that a
species would die in obscurity, the Waalh, would forever sit upon the
fence, observing, but not getting involved, until that culture
rose to the requisite heights of comprehension.
Did I mention that Lhuron was bored? He developed a dangerous
plan. The Humans are about to be wiped out by a rapacious culture
known as the Hrrng. It flew in the face of tradition, even law. But
with a little tweak here and shove there, humans could be the answer
to the eternal loneliness of the Waalh.
---
A rift opened in front of Lhuron and a small craft tumbled out.
Scared from battle and its occupant banged up, the craft came to a
wobbly halt. Lhuron assumed a physical form as close to human as he
could manage and transported himself into the copilot's seat.
"Commander Jonah Miller," he started formally, "we need to
talk."
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