[Undisclosed location.] [June 24, 19XX] [Audio recording of General XXXXX X. XXXXXX, U.S. Army, retired.] So, this conversation, the notes you're taking right now, it's all classified to hell and back. No one gets to know any of this until long after we're both... after you're dead. This... this is so the people who need to know, the men and women who stand on the wall. So they never forget. The voice sounds like a man in his prime. Let's start at the beginning. Papers rustle. It was naive, perhaps, to not think of who might be out there, in the vast gulfs between the stars. To not think of who might be listening. Over the course of decades, as we transitioned from telegrams and railways to radio and television, we inadvertently lit a beacon. A beacon that drew ancient, hungry eyes to our quiet little world. The flickering candlelight of a new civilization drew them, like moths to a flame, racing not to their destruction, but to ours.
Space Station Euphrates United Atlantic Coalition Ship Foundry Low Earth Orbit December 24, 2246 Gwen stared out the window at the slowly rotating globe far below. “This sucks.” Gwen fumed quietly, ‘Not only am I going to have to work on Christmas, but Troy broke up with me! By pulse!’ “Jerk.” Frank walked in to the mess hall and asked, “Are you talking to yourself?” Gwen whirled on him, “No! Yes. Not really.” She stood and walked over to stand near him. “Well, which one is it?” Frank sat down and started dialing in his meal order on the table’s controls. He was a middle-aged man with olive skin and light brown hair, just starting to go grey at the temples. Gwen flopped into a seat across from Frank. She was in her twenties, blonde, pale and fit, but already trending toward the apple shaped body of a spacer. “Troy broke up with me this morning.” Frank finished placing his order and looked at her calmly over his glasses. “Weren’t you planning on breaking it