We approached the Seed Ship. The trip had been short and silent. I was in a sullen mood. Khamuel piloted in silence, and Barachiel sat beside me in silence. It was then I sighed and spoke.

“This is our home,” said I. “We can't afford to muddy the waters.”

“Tell us what to do,” said Barachiel.

I peered into the eyes of my friend; they were earnest. I said, “We should clean up.” It was a simple thought, but it was all-encompassing. “We need to undo our technological footprint.” I could feel the Taush turning.

Khamuel said. “We can remove the crashed ships.”

By then, we were on the ground and the door was sliding up. “My heart is heavy,” I said. “If you don't mind the task, please. Then come back to the Seed Ship. I'll be in better shape.”

We stood between the Seed Ship and the Taush. Warm air, and noisy birds, set us at ease. Barachiel stepped forward and drew me into a tight hug. Khamuel gave a single pat on my right shoulder and stared into my eyes. His nod was meaningful, and his lips drew back. I imagined a smile to come, but Khamuel's manner was restrained.

I watched them mount the short ramp. I watched Barachiel turn in the door and wave. I saw the Taush speed away and stood even after I lost sight of them. Then, I turned. My home was before me. I looked at the vines growing up the outer hull of the ship and sighed. I did need some time.

Too often, we take on the weight of the world but forget to stop and shake it off. Should it sit without remedy, you become the weight, every rusty pit, and grotesque barb. It changes your stance, it darkens your words. Not only your frame, but your thoughts, too, are halt and lame.

A part of me looked through the murky cloud of sorrow and spied the Seed Ship with longing. A long sleep, a turn by the falls, hard work in the fields; they held out a rescuing. There was hope that I might be pulled from the crashing waves, that I might be spared from drowning in the cold depths of remorse.

The birdsong ended abruptly, and I knew the silence was a warning. Somewhere beyond the clearing, a predator lurked. It peered through the tall grass and wondered how I might taste. Let it come, I thought bravely, or recklessly. Come to me, I'm a killer now. I will end you.

No. I was not ready. A lion, a bear, a pack of wolves, any of them could defeat me. In my state, a rabbit might best me. I was pathetic; a killer who thought twice about fighting a bunny. I headed for the ramp, my eye on the guarded door. It was not that far, but it was far enough for an animal to rush from cover, far enough that a running beast could leap and catch me. I pulled my guns, stopped, and looked around. As I reached the top, the birds sang again. The predator had moved on. It was a harsh and violent planet I called home, but it was a world as worlds should be. Only man was evil.

“Open,” said I.

With the shield up, I walked to the barn. My foxes stopped to look at me. I fed and watered my cattle without joy. I leaned against the fence and watched the horses; my new mare kept her distance as if she could smell the blood on me. I walked back and passed fallen peaches. I had no interest. I felt dead inside as if I had been nailed up and left to dry.

After washing and changing, I found myself by Odum's tree. I could not remember the walk that brought me there. I turned with a deep sigh to head for the waterfall, thinking its gentle sound would fill the aching void. I had taken two steps but stopped in my tracks. The GM's simulation of my father appeared, faltered, and disappeared. Was something wrong?

I took another step, and again, the image prevented me. That time, the image was steady. I stood in place and studied the likeness of my dead father. I would have preferred my real father to return. I would have preferred to hear my father's actual voice. The image looked back at me. A sad smile overspread its face.

“My son,” said the GM.

I raised a hand dismissively. “Not now,” said I. “I'll make my report later.”

“My son,” said the GM. “I have returned. I use the GM, but it is really me.”

I was unmoved, but I played along. “How was your trip?” I asked.

“We are enlarged,” said my father's voice. I felt my spirit crack like ice beneath me; the GM did not say 'we.' “We have brought friends,” said the voice. Beside the image of my father appeared familiar faces. I saw Rigil, and I saw Bollate. Rigil waved, Bollate smiled, and when they disappeared, I fell to my knees completely broken.

I gripped the soil in clenched fists, pulling the grass free. I bowed my face between my arms and all my torment spilled forth. I wept without restraint, and my sorrow issued forth in a loud wail.

“Father,” I cried out. “Forgive your son; I have blood on my hands. I have killed men; Nimrod, Crish, Bha Huda.” It was hard to say between my sobs, but it came out, and I could not stop. “I murdered primitives, Huims, Axerri, blues.”

I spent myself while father listened. I reached a point where I gasped repeatedly, noisily, feeling as if I might retch. “Father,” I moaned.

“My son,” said father. “Dry your eyes. Come to me.”

I rubbed my face across a bare arm and crawled forward. I felt sick. I heard myself whimper, but I did not care; father called me, and I needed his comfort.

“When I was young,” said father, “I destroyed an entire planet in a fit of anger. With time, you will recover. Imagine how long it took me. Men of mud, men of stone, men of brass and iron, it matters not. Even men with an atomic lattice fail. The nature of man is rebellion and violence. Sit before me, calm yourself, and I will tell you a secret.”

I sat and crossed my legs, palming my face, trying hard to still my breathing. Father sat before me in like manner. He wore no crown or robe, but simple work clothes as did I. With his smile came the light of hope. I held my breath and awaited his word.

“In death,” said father, “we are free from sin. There is purpose and fulfillment. Jeez, listen. There is an upper path, and we extend our hand to you. We invite you to join us. You have two more struggles, then you may come to us. Consider the option of death, and we will show you that every life hinges on your spirit. If you will walk the upper path with your father, we will give you a strength in which defeat is victory.”

I lost sleep thinking about all my father told me. He presented the upper path as an option, but one only I could access. For me, death was pain and loss, a thing to avoid, but to be with those I loved; father, Imabelai, Otoallo, and Rigil, was a selling point.

On the following rotation, I ordered the GM to cease appearing in the form of the late King; if he came again, I didn't want to be confused. So, there I was, wandering through the Seed Ship, my head filled with spinning thoughts. There was no analysis, no planning, just spinning thoughts, and a sense of wonder.

I sat by the door and looked out through the shield. I watched flying insects bump into it, and then turn in a different direction, but not as a matter of choice. That had definite parallels to the trajectories of men, but I was more taken with the beauty of early light. It shone through the dense trees beyond the clearing and bathed all in a fine red mist.

I sat a hand away from the shield, legs crossed, looking at the rising light. I was relaxed and did not notice immediately, but a lion walked from the trees into the clearing. My ship sat on four rivers; animals often came to drink, but not that scruffy beast. It sauntered slowly, and, so I thought, deliberately toward the ship. The animal seemed underfed; I could see the indication of bones beneath a mangy hide.

I slid back from the open door as the lion walked up the ramp. Still, I needed to know that my shield worked against large intruders. I stayed put, but I readied my mind to shift. I stared into the eyes of the beast, and the beast stared back. It touched its nose to the shield and backed away. I felt relief, then curiosity. Instead of making a second attempt, instead of turning away, the animal made itself comfortable, lying down with its head facing south.

I could see matter in the animal's eyes. It seemed all but emaciated. I was in awe that such would happen until the beast spoke. “I still recall us clinging to each other in fear,” said the beast. “Then, of course, father came and gave us life for death.”

It escaped my lips as a gasp. “LUC!”

LUC said, “We'd have been one in death. You were in my arms. I think we might have passed without pain. Look at us now.” The lion turned to look at me as my mouth dropped open. It held my gaze for an edgy heartbeat, then looked away. “I had you in death,” said the lion. I saw the effort LUC underwent to form each word. “Father took that from me. Then, I thought I had you in life, but you did not love me as I loved you. You chose Rigil.”

“You chose Mikal,” I said in retort.

The lion looked at me, and LUC said, “A draw. Do you want to know what really broke my heart? I was upstaged by monkeys. And then, father cut me out altogether. I was exiled to this bitter world, doomed to watch eons crawl by. Father loved you, and you loved monkeys. Abandoned, I had no one to love.”

“No,” said I. “You volunteered.”

“I was deceived by father,” replied LUC.

“To have you here,” I said. “That it was you who prepared our seed world; father was proud.”

“He deceived all of us,” said LUC. “He wanted me gone so he could give you the kingdom that belonged to me. He saw how hard I worked; how I tried to please him. Too willing, I put my neck beneath his heel, never suspecting he would crush me.”

I argued. “Father's not that way.”

“Isn't he?” asked LUC. “Now, he wants you to die.”

The lion growled in a restless manner. I said, “It seems the lion wants you out of its head.”

LUC replied, “In its mind, it has a full belly. It wants sleep. Animals are easy. Imagine me in the mind of a man.”

Angry, I said, “He would know you are evil and reject you.”

LUC said, “No, my traitorous brother. Men believe what I tell them. One little lie bends all their truth.”

“I'll stop you,” I said, rising to my feet.

The lion struggled to its feet, then sat, facing me directly. LUC said, “What? Do you think I learned nothing in my exile? I dealt with the reptiles. I subdued the giants. I prevailed over mutinies. I am powerful. Certainly, I am more than enough for you. I will prevail. I do not mind blood on my hands.”

I stammered soundlessly, remembering the slack faces of those I killed. I wanted to scream, to say the thing that would close the lion's mouth, but a hard knot in my chest bottled my words. I strained but couldn't speak. Awash in blood and guilt, I sank to my knees while the lion continued speaking.

“I am the last of my kind, as you are yours,” said LUC. “Your species was born to die. My species was born to make that happen. My kind were natural killers, destined to dominate. Destruction is in my blood. Do you know how I felt when I killed your woman? Fulfilled. Justified.”

I recalled Imabelai's face, her reaching hand, the wisp of residue. Burning tears were behind my eyes as I leaned upon my hands in abject torment, as I beat the hard path with a fist. LUC goaded me with surgical precision and taunted me with evident delight.

LUC said, “I know you kept some monkeys. I'll take them from you. I know your angels will return. I'll be here for them as well. I'll take everyone you have. I'll destroy you from the inside out. In the end, you'll bow before me, even as you do now. You will beg me to end your misery..”

Imabelai's face burned before me. In my thoughts, I reached for her hand. At last, her name came forth in a low moan. “Imabelai.” Then I raised my face to the lion and said, “Murderer.”

LUC replied, “And you're not? You murdered me. Behold your brother who can't even use his own body; doomed to inhabit host after host. Admit it, Jeez. Admit that you enjoyed killing me. Like you enjoyed killing Nimrod.”

“No,” I shouted. “No. I was weak. I lost control. I'm not like you.”

“Is that so?” asked LUC, the question a spear in my side. “What will you do when angels cry?”

I tried to be strong despite my rage and terror. “I'll stop you, LUC. I won't let you hurt them.” I could feel the tears on my face, and my chest ached with the pounding of my heart. “I won't let you.”

LUC replied, “That means blood on your hands. Are you ready? Tell me you'll not sacrifice yourself for them. That's cheating. Self-sacrifice is not the road to redemption. Salvation is found in purging.”

“I'll kill you,” I said in a pathetic shout.

“In the end,” said LUC, “I'll possess your body. I'll make it slow and painful. You will see your flesh waste away. You'll be in my arms, and we'll endure this hell together.” The lion convulsed as I watched through tears. It fell on its side, dying without a fight, and rolled from the ramp.

My brother's words burned in me, I tasted both fear and rage. The image of Imabelai's death haunted me. I remembered  Zotha, and Rigil. I recalled the loss of my Kee and my brave silence at Thusa's burial. General Taush came to mind. I saw 43S7, remembering how I tasked his patience.  I saw Jisse, Nathlan, Kno, and Zeas. So many faces!

Later, I walked through the ark. A belt of tools was on my waist, and a hammer was in my hand. I walked with burning purpose. I would leave nothing for the primitives. I would destroy the stock of genes and embryos. The tools and machines from other worlds, I would render them impractical. While my angels cleaned up our ill-advised intrusion, I would make certain nothing from the Seed Ship could harm the people of the world. I felt adamant. Nevertheless, I stood in the blood bank door frozen like an animal in a bright light.

“What are you doing?” asked the GM.

I looked up from the hammer in my hand. My plan was so clear, but, to articulate, I struggled. I stammered, “I'm going to rid this world of,” I paused to think. What?

The GM spoke calmly. “Perhaps there is a more polished application for your energy.”

I reasoned, “Our technology will only stunt these people. They must find their own way.”

“I agree,” said the GM. “Your heart rate tells me you are being rash. Khamuel and Barachiel will need blood for the GUF. I advise a solution that delegates artfully to your subordinates.”

I said, turning in place, “Just run some diagnostics and leave me alone.”

The GM said, “I would be remiss to watch you hurt yourself in a heated moment. Why not begin with the destruction of a less significant aspect of our technology?”

Suddenly angry, I threw my hammer to the floor. I refrained from shouting; just barely. The GM had never seemed so intrusive. I held my breath and fought for calm. After a moment, I relented. The GM had a point.

“Alright,” I said. “I'll be at the barn.”

I took my hammer and shifted to the barn. In the work area, a trunk was braced for planing. I struck it with all my strength. I felt better after having hit the tree. I laid my belt aside and took up my planer. Planing always put me in a good mood.