“Yes,” the Moms had replied.
“Why? What good would that do?”
“Because it is the Law.”
In fact, the builders of the planet-eaters had come very early on, thousands of years ago, to realize their mistake. They had laced the planetary systems around their parent star with dozens of false civilizations, misleading beacons, even genetically engineered biological decoys, complete in every detail but one — the ability to mislead a Ship of the Law.
Three ship-years before, Martin had walked the surface of one such decoy planet, marveling at the creativity, the sheer expenditure of energy.
The planet had revealed sophisticated defenses. They had barely escaped the trap.
Now they were closing…
If they failed, others would follow, more informed, more aware of the dangers and pitfalls of this neck of the galactic woods.
Despite his intellectual misgivings, Martin was committed. He thought often of the age-old Law, and of the hundreds of mature civilizations that had embraced it. In his heart, a cold, rational hatred and hunger for vengeance echoed the demands of justice.
He knew, however strange and out of proportion it might be, that one of his key subconscious motivations was to avenge the death of a single, uncomplicated friend: a dog. He vividly remembered those soul-branding hours in the ark’s observation cabin.
Many of the humans aboard the Ship of the Law had been born in the Central Ark and had never known their home world. They were all dedicated to the search, regardless.
Silently, each day before the brief sleep of deep space, Martin swore an oath he had made up himself:
To those who killed Earth: beware her children!
That is how the balance is kept.