Humanity Endures

Part 1 - The Expeditionary Fleet | Chapter 1

"I live in the most boring building, on the most boring planet, during the most boring era, of humanity's storied existence. There can be no advancement in this stagnant hell — for my career, at least."

— Velan

***

In the far future, walking was a very inefficient method of travel.

Humans had found ways to move faster than their legs could carry them tens of thousands of years ago. Even when genetic modification and mechanical implants had made things such as walking or running far quicker for every human, by that point, buildings such as the one Velan walked in now had been designed and constructed — buildings that dwarfed continents in size, and buildings that, by their very nature, were not conducive to walking.

Despite this, as Velan relocated himself to the office of his detestable superior, a haze of loathing and desperation clouding his mind, he did not travel by hypersphere, by aerial bike, or by Personal Transport Craft — abbreviated as PTC by the lazy, which was to say, nearly everyone on Earth — but instead, he walked. Not only was it more conducive to thought, but dozens of planets had been harvested to create the gorgeous, gilded, continent-sized building that he worked at: how could he not spend time admiring its architecture?

While Velan walked, events were transpiring across the galaxy that set the stage for the most terrible disaster the human race had ever witnessed. A crisis loomed, and the Empire's denizens either speculated at its nature, or dismissed it outright. Insidious fear gripped hundreds of planets while loathsome ignorance paralyzed countless more — perhaps unsurprisingly, Earth was one of the latter worlds, and even Velan, usually a man of action, paid the imminent threat no heed. In an era with nothing but tranquility, every minor event was treated as a cataclysm by the rumor-prone masses; Velan had taken the other extreme, and ignored most everything that the doomsayers preached, and he had been right every time. Due to this policy, Velan did not spend his time fretting about the galaxy's latest issue; instead, he spent his time doing what every Earther naturally excelled at: playing politics. On a mission that managed to be both professional and deeply personal, Velan progressed through the various artistic atriums, opulent offices, and even complete chambers dedicated to the entertainment of the increasingly inactive — and, consequently, increasingly bored — military. All of these rooms were, at the very least, decorated with inane quantities of gold and jewels, which were harvested from hundreds of devoured planets: the most obvious symptom of the military having many resources, and no enemies to fight, for over a century. When the glare from the artistic lights in the building, designed to look like windows, reflected off polished gold surfaces, their blinding radiance made it difficult to see any of the other wasteful parts of the building; if one were to glance at it, one would think the seat of the galaxy's military to be a luxury hotel.

"Do they really have nothing better to do? And to think that this is the home of the mightiest fighting force the galaxy has ever seen," Velan mused, scratching his pitch-black hair due to an unusual itch. The lack of professionalism that Earth's military displayed was nothing short of impressive, when it wasn't depressing; living in the "Capital Complex" boggled the mind, and Velan's mind had, sadly, been boggled for well over a year. The only wars that the galaxy-spanning Empire had fought were wars against itself, and even those were centuries old; the military looked impressive, and indeed it was both sizeable and modern, but a real battle existed only in the minds of theorists, and the human galaxy had not faced true crisis for eons. It is not enough to merely form steel into the shape of a blade; one must sharpen it before it can kill, and lining the weapon with gemstones or gold certainly doesn't make it more lethal. Humanity took immense pride in its army and navy, but whether or not this faith was well-placed, or if it would survive the coming months, was to be seen.