The hum of the Avenger’s engines pulsed steadily, a low vibration running through the walls and floor of the dimly lit cabin. Overhead, the glow of the status panels cast a faint bluish hue across the metal surfaces, while the viewport displayed the endless stretch of space, stars flickering like distant embers. The air carried a faint sterility, the recycled oxygen tinged with the subtle scent of machine oil and insulation.

  “My creators,” said ADAM, his voice carrying an unusual note of sadness, “felt the same way. Rath Logam himself wept while he built me. He often repeated, ‘Forgive me, but I must try to save my world, even if I must create a synthetic being and condemn it to slavery.’ Yes, he meant me, Murray. The war was going badly then. He built me as much for revenge on the Shapers as for any other purpose in my programming. The governors of Hathlon, who funded his work, had the final say over all my directives and instructions.”

  There was a brief pause before ADAM continued, his tone flat yet weighted. “Rath Logam imprinted his emotions and convictions onto my psyche by speaking to me as he worked. He instructed me as though I were his own child—to be noble, honest, and faithful. Much of what your race calls ‘personality’ in me is simply an extension of his.”

  Murray sat on the edge of a reinforced steel bench, his fingers idly tracing a groove in the surface as he listened. He studied ADAM’s sleek, metallic frame—an intricate construct of polished alloys and glowing circuitry. The android sat near the center of the cabin, motionless yet exuding an odd presence, almost like a person lost in thought.

  “You and the Shapers are opposites of the same kind, ADAM,” Murray mused, his voice quieter now. “One is a living mind converted into a mechanism. You, on the other hand, are a mechanism built so well that you became… something more. A sentient mind. Or at the very least, an extension of one—your creator’s. Rath Logam’s. Your father’s, ADAM.”

  ADAM was silent for a moment. The soft whir of cooling systems within his frame was the only sound before he finally spoke. “That is a fact I had not considered, Murray. Despite my prodigious mind and memory, I failed to recognize it.” His voice trailed off, mechanical yet weighted with something almost contemplative.

  Murray leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Were your creators humanoid? Similar to us at all?”

  “They were similar to your species, but not identical.”

  Murray nodded, then asked gently, “Rath Logam… he was childless, wasn’t he, ADAM?”

  The response came quickly, almost sharply. “Yes.” A pause, then a colder demand: “How did you know that, Murray? I have never disclosed that information—not even to a Denebian.”

  Murray exhaled, a small smile forming. “I’ve heard a similar story before. An ancient one from Earth’s history.” He hesitated before reciting, “‘And he that seeth me seeth him that sent me.’” His gaze lifted to ADAM. “Saint John, Chapter 12, Verse 45. Another father who gave his only son to save the world.”

  The ship’s atmospheric regulators hummed softly, the sound filling the silence that stretched between them.

  Then Murray straightened. “ADAM, you can receive and transmit thoughts, correct?”

  “Yes, Murray.”

  “But our computers—non-living machines—cannot receive thoughts?”

  “Correct.”

  “But you can generate electronic impulses?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then convert your thoughts into a binary code of impulses and transmit them at top speed into the Avenger’s computer.”

  A brief pause. Then: “I will try.”

  Murray exhaled. “I just hope the Avenger’s systems can handle the load of information you’re carrying.”

  As ADAM began the process, Murray pushed himself up from his seat with a weary groan. The cabin was small but functional, a mix of exposed wiring and reinforced bulkheads designed for practicality rather than comfort. He stepped toward the sleeping alcove, pulling off his boots and letting them drop to the floor with a dull thud. His jacket, worn from years of travel, was slung over the back of a chair.

  He cast a glance toward ADAM, who remained seated in the center of the room beside the interface. The android’s eyes—if they could be called that—emitted a soft, steady glow, flickering slightly as data began streaming from his mind into the ship’s systems.

  “You’ll let me know if anything goes wrong?” Murray asked as he unlatched his belt and set it aside.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “I do not require sleep, Murray,” ADAM replied flatly. “You do. I will complete the task.”

  Murray snorted, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, I figured you’d say something like that.” He stretched out on the g-bed, the firm padding barely offering any comfort. With a sigh, he let his eyes drift closed.

  At first, ADAM transmitted slowly, carefully converting thought impulses into electronic signals. As the process continued, he accelerated, refining the conversion method. The interface flickered with rapid streams of data, the Avenger’s memory cells locking in more and more information, automatically reallocating storage from auxiliary systems.

  Still, ADAM continued.

  The ship’s systems strained under the immense data flow. Finally, with only twenty percent of the last out-boat’s memory space remaining, the Avenger’s computer slowed, then stopped recording.

  Seven and a half hours had passed. Earth loomed large in the viewport.

  Murray Dean was fast asleep.

  The Avenger sped toward home, carrying the most valuable clue yet to the mystery of the sphere. Within the halls of the United Worlds Science Council, an electrified hush filled the room as ADAM’s data flooded their computer systems like an electronic tidal wave.

  The council was in awe. ADAM was a sentient, living cybernetic intelligence—well over a thousand years old. Even more astounding was the sphere’s ability, and ADAM’s own, to jump between timelines. His assurance that UW ships could soon achieve the same had sent the council into near hysteria.

  As the Avenger neared landing, the anticipation in the control center was palpable. The waiting officials were as restless as children on Christmas Eve, barely containing their excitement.

  Holovision cameras floated in strategic positions, capturing every angle as Russell Carlin, Debra Hilds, and ADAM stepped onto the launch bay’s platform. Behind them, Murray Dean and the three rescued hopper crewmen followed, their relief evident. The rest of the Avenger’s crew spilled onto the tarmac, immediately embracing friends and family.

  At the approach to the landing berth, a welcoming party stood with composed dignity. Chairman Linette Hughes, Jeff Calan, Dr. Hopewell, Professor Edward Sackett, and Sergeant Major Harmand awaited them. Hughes, however, broke decorum, embracing each returning officer warmly before turning her gaze to ADAM.

  The introductions began.

  “Madam Chairman,” Russell announced, his voice steady, “I wish to present to you and the United Worlds of Earth the only free representative of the Hegemony of Hathlon—known to us as Deneb Five. The war correspondent, reporter, and historian ADAM Logam, son of Rath Lagam, eminent cyberneticist and engineer.”

  ADAM, hovering slightly above the ground to avoid the press of bodies, inclined his head respectfully. “I am proud to meet you all, gentle beings. I feel more alive than I have in four hundred years.”

  Chairman Hughes smiled warmly. “Well, ADAM, our worlds are at your service. Just tell us how we can rid the universe of our common scourge.”

  The United Worlds Science Council wasted no time diving into ADAM’s war records and historical data. For hours, they sifted through the archives, cross-referencing every scrap of information. The deeper they delved, the clearer the truth became—who and what they faced was beyond anything humanity had encountered.

  The term Shapers referred to a race that originated on Alpha Lyrae IV roughly twenty-eight thousand years ago. Much like early humankind, their dominant evolutionary form arose while their forerunners—akin to the relationship between Neanderthals and Cro-Magnons—still roamed their homeworld. Unlike humanity, however, the Shapers did not merely outlive their predecessors. They hunted them to the brink of extinction.

  The pre-Shaper race, initially subjugated, soon found itself entirely displaced as the Shapers spread across their world, consuming nearly seventy percent of its habitable land.

  ADAM’s records revealed chilling details.

  “They were fiercely territorial,” Professor Sackett murmured, scrolling through the archives. “Lone predators by nature… warriors by instinct.”

  Dr. Hopewell frowned. “And yet, their predecessors survived?”

  “Yes,” ADAM confirmed. “But not in the way one might hope. The pre-Shaper race was enslaved and remains so to this day, serving their own descendants as laborers, security, and, when necessary, entertainment.”

  Sergeant Major Harmand exhaled sharply. “Monstrous.”

  The records continued. Until thirteen thousand years ago, the Shapers had no concept of space travel. At that time, they were locked in a brutal feudal era, their world a battlefield of warring city-states. Warfare wasn’t just a necessity—it was a rite of passage.

  “To even earn a name, a male had to kill at least one hundred enemy soldiers,” ADAM stated. “Only then was he permitted to breed.”

  Jeff Calan shook his head in disbelief. “And the rest? What happened to those who failed?”

  “The majority of each warlord’s army consisted of untitled males, desperate to achieve their hundred kills,” ADAM continued. “The elderly, the maimed, and the discarded females worked to sustain the war effort. Meanwhile, each warlord bred his harem relentlessly, ensuring the next generation of warriors was stronger, more ruthless.”

  Professor Sackett pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Selective breeding through warfare… It’s artificial evolution.”

  “Precisely,” ADAM said. “With each war, the victors took the defeated women as spoils, slaughtered all males of breeding age, and cast the old and wounded into the labor force. The strongest bloodlines persisted, their traits honed through centuries of battle. Different Saromes—father-kings—selected for various traits, shaping their own ideal warriors.”

  Chairman Hughes leaned back in her chair, a grim expression on her face. “And now, they are among the stars.”

  ADAM’s voice carried a weight beyond mere data. “Yes. And they are coming.”