Goddess of the Galacticide Episode 57 - Unplanned
- Bert-Oliver Boehmer
- Jun 2
- 6 min read

Cha Dzeeny was a Royal Guard. The Pyahwi was an impressive ship, could warp space across 11 light-orbits, and was his first command. He was proud. It didn’t make any sense.
He commanded marines, men and women following him blindly without question. There were no questions; there were only orders, a plan. The marines had no training on how to operate the Pyahwi. What happened to the original crew? Questions hurt when one tried to focus on them.
The waking shifts were easy. Reactor check, astrogation refinement, food preparation, physical exercises. Two Isonomih helped with the technical tasks. The machines had analyzed the ship’s systems faster than Cha Dzeeny and his marines could, but they, too, were not designed to fly this vessel. Removed wall panels gave access to network backbones; AI probes drilled into cable trees. Makeshift control. Blood splatter on some panels near the airlock.
Night shifts were difficult. Sleep was the enemy. Orders, tasks, repeated regimens, all could put one’s mind at ease. But when the eyes closed, the breathing relaxed, and consciousness slipped away, the horrors began. The giant shadows in the fog, slithering vines, blinding beam weapons, comrades and foes, hypersonic cracks, rot and decay. The few that were peaceful appeared so innocent, so benign. But they all lurked under a surface Cha could not break, drowned in a sea he could not touch. Everything looked familiar, but he could not name a single thing, a single person, or a single place. Like dreams, it all made sense while he was asleep, but as soon as an understanding started to take form—a moment of recollection came close—he woke up. Drenched, his legs spasming, his throat dry, muscles aching. His body wanted to know, to understand, but his mind would not let him.
He was tired. The waking shift activities were monotonous. It was a long flight. But at least it was easy. Orders, execution, re-briefing. The Shaajis gave answers to questions no one asked. Why are they going to Green Wave? What are the Remnants building on the planet? How did it fit into the plan?
Cha Dzeeny was a Royal Guard. He was part of the plan. Hearing what it was had been a surprise each waking cycle. If he were less tired and the nights more peaceful, maybe he could remember his part, but like the strange places he saw, he could not focus long enough to recall. He had been there; he was part of the plan. Remembering the plan. It hurt.
The seat was softer than his bunk on the Hikshuur. His hands flew over the controls as if they belonged to someone else. Someone who understood thruster control. Alignment of triordinates, hitting a darkstring connector within tolerance. Something was different. The control station seat was comfortable, but not enough to cancel out the pre-warp vibrations. Did the AIs make a mistake?
A woman addressed Cha Dzeeny.
“Cancel the burn, Commander. We keep the Pyahwi steady for docking with the Hikshuur for personnel transfer.”
Turning around took effort; it was so much easier to just remain focused on the ship’s controls and confirm the new orders.
The woman turned out to be the AI core Tswa sni sni. The deep voice reminded him of someone. There was blood on his hands.
He had questions, but before they fully formed, they vanished into a fog of uncaring stupor. Cha wanted to say “steady as she goes”, but he was not a solar sailor. He was a Royal Guard.
“Affirmative.”
The marines said it like that. Why did they? Why would they pause their series of warps to Green Wave? They almost made it to their destination, just one more warp.
“Who is transferring?” asked Cha.
“Excellent, Commander,” said Tswa sni sni. “I will be at the airlock.”
The AI hovered away, ignoring Cha’s question. Or did he not say it out loud? So many questions echoed in the empty chamber of his mind. None of them was ever said out loud. There are no questions. You got your orders!
He turned to the console and switched off thruster pre-heat. The burn was canceled. Nothing to do but wait for the docking. He closed his eyes.
A light bump. ‘Radial 0, Along-Track 0, Cross-Track 0. Airlock seal 100%. Docking complete’ read the screen. His eyes darted around the Pyahwi’s cockpit. He was alone. No one witnessed him nodding off during the maneuver. Cha took a deep breath. He had slept, even if just for a pass or two. Without the nightmares. Black refreshing emptiness.
“You look like nreedz, Dzeeny.”
The freighter was new and elegant. Quiet sliding doors and whispering bulkheads were the price of luxury. He had missed the woman entering the cockpit, but the raspy voice was familiar. A place. A goodbye. Clear to the touch.
“Baaii.”
He turned around. The urge to stand up and hug her was strong. A wave of uncaring washed the moment away, and he remained seated. She was a Royal Guard, too, but not a commander.
“You are the transfer.”
His voice lacked reflection and interest.
“Yes. And I’m happy to see you, too. Or are you missing Tswa sni sni already?”
“She was the transfer?”
Asking questions was so magiis hard. He’d have the strength for one more.
“Why?”
“Are you alright, Dzeeny? The Shaajis has explained this ten times by now.”
“Run it by me once more,” said Cha. “In case any details have changed.”
The plan. He had no idea what came next. Preparing the burn was the farthest event on his horizon.
Baaii’s forehead wrinkled, but she answered.
“The Shaajis expects negotiations with the Remnants on Green Wave and needs a core to translate.”
The Shaajis does not negotiate; she gives orders.
“Once we arrive, she wants to take control of the breeding project.”
Cha’s eyes twitched. What about the prophet? Where did the blood come from? Wrong questions. Bad questions. Not important. At least not now. What breeding project? What are they breeding? You don’t ask questions; you have faith.
“You should have more faith in the Shaajis,” said Cha. He didn’t know why.
He turned to the console and switched on the thruster pre-heat.
“We’re almost in the darkstring. Getting ready for the last burn. Help me with the warp, Baaii.”
He was a Royal Guard. She was a Royal Guard. He controlled the burn. The Pyahwi entered the darkstring. She spun up the reactor to full power. They warped. He was so tired.
A klaxon.
“Four blips on wideband.”
Green Wave. He had been there. He did not know why they returned, but he did know the world was in the middle of nowhere, in an unsettled part of the spiral arm. There should be exactly one ship present, besides their two freighters. Cha switched system screens.
“Identifying.”
His body remembered how to run scanners, looking for echoes, chem traces, dark ripples, composition waves. His hands and the console became one. Remembering how to do something was a balm to his mind. Competency brought clarity.
But clarity, like in the night horrors, was not necessarily a good thing.
The Shaajis needed the Remnants for the plan. She needed Tswa sni sni to negotiate. She had powers, but so did the multi-aware AIs. She wanted control, and maybe the machines had predicted this, had seen it in their version of nightmares.
The machine prophet. It was no more. The Shaajis could not free it. It was gone. Unacceptable. He was a Royal Guard. He had sworn to protect the Shaajis. But he could not protect her from the four ships identified.
“Contacts identified as Remnant battle cruiser Chéé, heavy cruiser Ruuy, and two unknown destroyers of Võmémééř design.”
“The Shaajis didn’t mention a welcome party,” said Baaii.
“It isn’t one,” said Cha, double-checking his screen. “They got shields raised and weapons ready.”
The Shaajis had not foreseen this. Her prophet had not prophesied this. The plan went unplanned. Four extra-galactic strip-beam warships against two freighters.
Negotiations were going to be short.
Copyright © 2026 Bert Oliver Boehmer. All rights reserved. No part of this serialized novel may be reproduced, reposted, or distributed in any form without the prior written permission of the author. The creation of any derivative works (including translations, adaptations, or other transformations) is likewise prohibited without permission. The use of any portion of this material for training or developing artificial intelligence or other machine learning models is strictly forbidden.

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