131. Dread

Diary of Endelle Stroth - 21.07.2270

I’m not used to being this nervous.

We arrived last night at Watchtower Zil, the last outpost of the Ele Dominion before Tren Krellos and I strike out on our own across uncharted space. It isn’t as warm or as open here as on El-Kera, quite the opposite, in fact. The spartan, windowless corridors and utilitarian facilities leave little to distract me from the enormity of the task we’re about to undertake.

While our journey here traced a direct route, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been tempted to linger, to observe the strange and beautiful as I’ve always longed to. But reminders of our mission were never far behind. We passed by one desolate world, almost a large asteroid in reality, to which a Centurion had been temporarily relocated. Even with no living Ele nor any settlement in the system, it still clearly railed against a threat it could sense but not reach. That Centurion is probably on the move again now, threatening innocents in its campaign to silence the Metanation.

That thought, in particular, weighs on me. The idea that if I can’t correct what amounts to an entirely understandable oversight in programming, the Ele will burn.

I’ve felt fear before. I’ve given talks to sold-out lecture halls, rows of wide eyes fixed upon me expectantly. I’ve crossed the borders of my comfort zone with eagerness. I’ve given terrible news to those I love. This is different.

It’s not just fear that I feel, it’s dread.