59. The Alze Periphery, Devastated

Thirty light-years from the Alze Empire’s core, the Hamlapilatra star system, lies the Mitokana system—the Alze Empire’s most remote outpost. At its heart, Mitokana shines as a slightly smaller, yellow-tinged K-type star, orbited by a single rocky planet.

The sole planet of the Mitokana system: Syno.

Five years after the first wave of twenty thousand colonists settled here, infrastructure development was nearly complete, and preparations for receiving the second wave of colonists had proceeded without a hitch. The colonization effort had advanced to the point where all that remained was waiting for the newcomers to arrive.

The first wave of colonists was primarily composed of infrastructure workers, while the second wave consisted mainly of primary industry personnel. Once primary industry got underway under their stewardship, the planet Syno would be self-sustaining.

The location of the colonization base is slated to become the planetary capital in the future, situated on the shore of a vast freshwater lake at the center of Syno’s largest continent, with a central transportation network radiating outward like a spider’s web.

Planetary Observatory within the colonization base.

This observatory is little more than a makeshift installation, housing equipment salvaged from the large spacecraft that carried the first wave of colonists. The vessel itself has already been dismantled on the surface and repurposed for various resources.

“Numerous high-speed objects detected at a distance of one astronomical unit. Velocity at 0.15 times light speed. On a direct trajectory toward Syno. Optical observation at one AU has an eight-minute delay—impact in forty-seven minutes.”

The night shift observer, just relieved, reports an emergency to their already departing superior. The superior, recognizing the gravity of the situation, relays it upward. …

Forty-seven minutes had passed.

Having finished today’s infrastructure construction work and completed maintenance on the deployed machinery, the worker made their way back to the temporary barracks. As they walked, they noticed something flickering in the eastern night sky, where the stars were just beginning to shine. Unlike ordinary stars, it sparkled like a shower of pale blue sparks, intensely bright. Soon, the number of these flickers increased, spreading across the entire eastern horizon.

At first, only a few had noticed the anomaly in the night sky. Now, more and more people were stepping out onto the road to gaze upward, or peering from the windows of their dormitories toward the east—everyone, it seemed, had begun to notice.

Suddenly, a blinding white flash erupted beyond the eastern horizon, swallowing the stars whole. Something catastrophic had occurred, though no one could do anything about it.

And then, the collapse came without warning.

The ground heaved upward before the shockwave even reached it—compressed waves traveling through the crust lifting everything above, human and object alike, into the air without distinction.

Then the flash consumed everything.

The image now flickering on the monitor atop my desk was just received from an observer probe sent into a star system of the Alze Empire—something happening in a backwater sector, as far as the Empire was concerned.

The initial impact of Zeno blew the atmosphere around the collision site into space in a flash of light. Simultaneously, shockwaves raced across the planet’s surface at supersonic speeds. At the same time, crustal tsunamis erupted—ripples spreading across the planet’s surface and crust like those made by a pebble dropped into a puddle. At the crests of these ripples, fragments occasionally tore free and were flung into space. On the screen, they appeared as scattered specks, but each fragment, once ejected into space, measured at least ten kilometers across.

And then, like rain, Zeno descended upon the planet in flashes of light, each impact colliding with the previous ripple, causing the planet’s surface to heave violently.

The total number of observed Zeno instances was approximately fifty thousand. All of them descended upon the planet, each impact colliding with the previous ripple, causing the planet’s surface to heave violently. The planet became a crimson-hued sphere. Around it, scattered fragments of the shattered crust formed a ring, while evaporated seawater and ejected atmospheric gases drifted faintly into the void of space.

Details remain unclear—though from prior probe observations, it appears roughly twenty thousand Alzehans had been active on Planet Zeno. Most likely, they passed away without ever realizing their own end.

The current Zeno, based on its mass distribution, appears to have exhausted its capacity—likely capable of only two more reproductive cycles, at most four, before natural extinction. This event occurred in a star system over three hundred light-years from the Solar System. One may confidently assert that this Zeno poses no direct threat to the Solar System. However, it is known that neighboring this system lies a relatively populous star system, one that constitutes part of the Arze Empire.

One cannot simply ignore this. And so, in light of that, it becomes necessary to discuss the matter with the commander of the surrendered Arze Fleet—and the implications moving forward.

According to intelligence gathered by our scout probe stationed at Arzeen, the capital planet of the Arze Empire, several years prior to the Mitokana system, another system adjacent to this one had suffered a similar fate: all inner planets destroyed by Zeno, and colonies under development annihilated. Given the distance and velocity involved, this appears to be a different group from the Zeno faction that recently attacked the Mitokana system. That group should currently be in transit through interstellar space, en route to its next target.

Regarding the previous destruction of the colony world, it seems the Arze Empire imposed a gag order. One can understand the impulse. The Arze Empire lacks any effective countermeasures against Zeno. While it’s true that publicizing the threat would only cause societal panic, one wonders—was it really acceptable to let those people die, unacknowledged, unremembered?