Fireworks

No more than a week had passed following the rediscovery of Gubre that a heated debate ensued in the public discourse. The issue concerned whether Zoronak, The Second Galactic Forum, should reintroduce the planet to the rest of the Galaxy. Following the collapse of the First Forum, which spanned 10,000 years of peace and prosperity, thousands of solar states regressed into a pre-Worm phase of technological intelligence -- preventing any degree of interstellar travel or communication. This sudden economic collapse and the fact that most of the states had no militias of their own led to out right anarchy for most, and inter-tribal conflict for the rest resembling prehistoric nation-states and, in some cases, city-states.

Gubre, at it's height, was the unparallelled gem of the galaxy. Never spoiled at the hand of political corruption, or economic and environmental catastrophe. It represented the pinnacle of technological sophistication, where the people enjoyed an ideal in quality of life and fulfillment which could only be sustained by consuming the vast swathes of resources gathered elsewhere in the galaxy. The planet quickly grew out of it's original size, the residents found it apt to build tremendous solar residential rings around the planet, each housing several hundred billion people and casting an almost perpetual shadow on the planet. By the time the Forum collapsed, ten of these rings were in operation and billions upon billions flocked to the planet annually to experience, if even for a moment, the utopic bliss which only a minor fraction of the galaxy had the privilege to call home.

Following the collapse, the battalions of cargo freighters which sustained the people on the planet were no longer supported by the bountiful coffers of the Forum. Many of them continued to ship their freight regardless, out of a simple moral and humane obligation, risking certain death at the hands of pirates, criminals and the growing number of barbarian hordes. This inadequate supply lasted for no more than six months and the resources which did arrive often landed into the hands of terrestrial criminal organizations and fed only the mechanisms of war and chaos. Of the ten trillion people, most perished within the first year. It would take a decade before the planet found any stability, even if that stability came in the form of perpetual war.

Kerom, First Imperial Representative of Zoronak, arrived five hundred years following the collapse to a planet which resembled a gigantic decommissioned satellite of ages past. The rings had all collapsed, save for one and that appeared empty and hollow. A mere five million people remained on the planet, concentrated into hundreds of small tribes separated by hundreds of miles, the largest of which had built a small community and contained no more than 100,000 people.

Before Kerom stood a wall of bones 50 feet high spanning six miles in either direction. An arched gate stood in the center formed exclusively of skulls. On the gate, marked with blood, was the form of a human being with a faded red x crossed over it. It opened and out stepped a group of people whose nudity was covered only by leaves. They all began to speak simultaneously and the digital translator struggled to decipher all the sounds.

"We do not accept foreigners here," an older man said, he stood out among the rest not only for his towering size but also for the authority with which he spoke.

"Why?" Kerom said. Intimidated by the brutal primitivity of the people. But some sign or another hinted that there was an express intention here.

"We owe you no explanation. We have nothing to gain from you," the old man said, speaking in a very guttural and pronounced tone. Every negation strained, leaving almost the impression that he would pounce on him at any moment and tear him to shreds.

"I wish none of you any harm, but would like only to offer our assistance," Kerom said, hesitating. Knowing well that he was being redundant and not improving his position."My name is Kerom, I come from Zoronak -- a distant world, separate from your own. We would like to offer our services to you." The old man grew more and more impatient with every passing second, his scorched lips began to bleed under the pressure and tears began to form at the corners of his eyes. He approached Kerom whose stature, as the man approached, shrunk until he began to tremble like a blade of grass.

"My name is Man," he said, his volume cutting Kerom's breath short. Kerom could only focus on his voice, and understood almost intuitively what it is that he said without the need of any translation. "I come from here," he pointed toward the wall, "what some call The Palisades, but no one here calls it that. And whatever that it is that you have to offer, Kerom, it is certain only to bring us death, even if we find momentary happiness. " He grabbed Kerom from his arm and dragged him past the gate. Immediately behind it was a plaza, at the center of which was a towering pole, splattered all around were the festering remains of what must have been a hundred people. Half a dozen men almost as large as the old man took over the privelege of attaching Kerom to the pole.

"As a gesture of good-will, we offer you this," the man said, revealing a large jug containing a greyish liquid which he continued to forcibly pour down Kerom's throat. "You will notice that it is disgusting, but rest assured that it is customary practice for us to treat all of our guests with the greatest dignity and ceremony, typically ending with a bout of fireworks." The plaza held several hundred people standing a few dozen feet away from Kerom who was now coming in and out of consciousness. He noticed from the corner of his eyes that the man had removed a bow and had lit an arrow on fire.