I'd said Raphina would grow over the following days and grow it did. In the two days of coasting to our new orbit, the pink and blue orb grew so large as to fill the viewports with its subtle glow. Meanwhile, Rava shrank to… well, it was still massive, as the binary worlds were as close as magically-tethered celestial bodies could be without tidal forces ripping each other apart. But looking out the viewports at the clouds tracking their way across the surface of the planet and the sun sparkling off cerulean waters far below, it was like seeing for the first time. The telescope hadn't done justice to the magnificent landscape of sweeping land masses. But the insertion into Raphina's orbit also carried us to its dark side.

I almost broke into tears when I saw the side of the planet that faced the stars. Decayed forests, blackened mires, fouled waters, and utter destruction scarred the surface of the world. I watched from Cla'thn's observatory module, scanning her telescope across features no one on Rava had ever seen before. The priestess hadn't left the window since we entered orbit, face turned to the porthole with her light-limiting shroud wrapped about her face.

"I was not ready," she said. "Never had I thought… such ruin. This is a world in the throes of death. Even if the Queen of Queens did not threaten the structure of the planet, these null devils would devour all life and leave a world just as dead. And then they would come for Rava."

"We're here to make sure that doesn't happen," I said. But the tableau admittedly had me just as unnerved as it did the Midnighter sorceress. "Why do they stay on this side? Why don't they go to the source in the valley where the System is?"

"Perhaps it is yet too strong for them. Perhaps they are burned by its power if they draw too close, so they seek to weaken and poison and nibble until the Queen of Queen's flame wanes low. Some foul intelligence yet drives these creatures. This we have seen."

I pulled away from the telescope. "Small blessings. But if they have any brains, they're not just going to let us wake up the System, even if the valley is painful for them. That's their meal ticket, after all."

"True enough." The priestess tensed up at the porthole. "Apollo, observe quickly."

I floated over to join her at the porthole and felt my fur go stiff. Miles and miles below us, shapes were detaching from the landscape and flying up towards us. I recognized the black faceted carapace of null devils rising up from the ground.

"They sense the presence of magic aboard. Myself, my attendants, and the Ifrit."

Likely the sun crystals we were using to generate electricity, as well. Even if the goblin technology itself wasn't magic, there was plenty of magic aboard the station. I floated over to the hatch and put my head through the curtain. Grabbing the nearest goblin,

"Radio over to Chuck, prep for incoming," I told him. The goblin squawked and floated away.

"I do not think that will be necessary, King Apollo," said Cla'thn.

Even if they could outrun a jet fighter, they couldn't keep up with a spacecraft moving at orbital velocity. I relaxed some as the null devils fell behind and returned to the surface. I scratched my chin, watching as another wave lifted in response to our passage. "There must be dozens of them down there. Maybe hundreds."

"Yes. They have had millennia to feed and spawn. Even if they've no love for each other, Raphina is a vast world."

The decay stretched below from horizon to horizon, cast in relief by the low angle of the sun. It was hard to believe they still had anything to eat down there. But I suppose System was a near-infinite tap, a perfect wellspring of magic that kept these gluttons fed without end. Without predators or competition from their own kind for scarce food, they had grown fat rather than devouring each other as they had on Rava.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

I thought about what would have happened if these star creatures had fallen to Earth instead of Rava. In all likelihood, we'd have killed every single one in a matter of days. Even en masse, the giant magic-devouring creatures would be nearly blind to Earth technology. A few squadrons of F-35s with AIM-120 missiles would make much shorter work of these creatures than even the goblin railgun on the C2 jet had. With how ridiculously the 10,000 members of Tribe Apollo had outstripped the technological level of Rava natives, we were still laughably primitive compared to advanced Earth nations.

Earth had grown to a population of billions, after all. Even the Midnight Queen's most generous estimates for the population of Rava put it at less than a hundred million. Tribe Apollo had the tools we needed to go to the moon, but they were still 100 years out of date. My tribe didn't have vacuum tubes, photography, microchips, or even punch-card computers.

We passed into the skies of the night side of Raphina, and it became a pitch-black orb, completely bereft of cultural lighting. If there had been a native sapient species capable of building towns or cities down there, I had to believe they were long-since driven extinct by an alien extinction event. Whether these creatures fell by accident, flung by some far-reaching stellar event, or if they were drawn to System like a dinner bell ringing across the cosmos, I couldn't say. But no one else in either of these two worlds had the power to stop them.

Still, the numbers we were seeing was not what I hoped for.

A half hour later, we passed back onto the day-side of Raphina, and I trained the telescope on the canyons under which System slept—and nearly put my eye out looking at the scope.

"Cla'thn, come see this," I said.

Cla'thn left the window and took my spot at the telescope. She peered into the aperture and watched for several minutes.

"The mountains… they are shifting," she said. "Oscillations at regular intervals, spreading stress fractures on the surface."

"It's breathing!" I said. "It's down there snoring.

System.

<Awaiting query>

We found you. I know you can see us, can read our thoughts. But I wanted to tell you. We're looking at you right now.

There was a pause before the System responded.

<Chris, there is something I must tell you. Once you descend, you will cross beyond operational boundaries of higher-order functionality.>

I tilted my head. I'll no longer be able to hear you?

<Interference from REDACTED prevents application of the NULL ENTRY.>

At the telescope, Cla'thn had withdrawn. Even through the sheer gauze covering her face, I could see the glazed-over expression in her eyes. The System was probably telling her the exact same thing as it was telling me.

You won't be able to communicate with us, I realized. Then, as a hollow pit in my stomach started to form, I asked, What about skills? The Goblin Tech Tree? Will they still function?

I stopped short of asking directly about the Head of the Snake skill. We were likely to lose hundreds of goblins, even if we were successful. I hadn't considered that I might be among them.

<Framework for NULL SET skills are enforced by passive protocols. The NULL Tech Tree may not be as robust.>

"So our equipment could fail at any time," I said, not realizing that I'd said it out loud. "Does that mean we can't expect your help?"

<I will try, Chris. But I am bound—and restricted further by NULL ENTITY. But I will be watching.>

In other words, we had one shot. Tribe Apollo had scraped, scavenged, begged, and hoarded the resources to make this mission happen. There would never be a second one. Either we woke the System up, or the null devils continued growing fat off its energy. Either the moon would explode, or the null devils would succeed in killing the celestial space dragon and would then fix their appetites on Rava. And now, we couldn't even rely on System.

It worried me. It could simply mean I'd lose access to menu functionality or the ability to assign goblins or unlock further technologies. Or it could mean that parts of the Goblin Tech tree could switch off randomly. What was I going to do if a goblin was using a glider or a missile launcher and they somehow forgot how it worked?

What if the glue bonding technology together simply ceased to function? Would our engines seize, our guns jam, and our missiles fizzle on the pylons? I had to believe System knew what it was doing, bringing goblins here. I had to believe, because the alternative was that the imperfect, ill understood magic that had summoned me had made yet another mistake.

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