Caedhes saw a plaza where tens of thousands of people had gathered.
They all faced the sky, watching a massive spaceship slowly descend from beyond the atmosphere. Just then, a voice rang out.
"Listen," it said.
"The day of judgment is approaching, and the Wedge will be taken away. You must remain here until the end of all things."
An all-round talent with considerable literary accomplishments, Caedhes described his visions in language worthy of an opera libretto. This was also a personal touch he often slipped into his reports.
The people's cries were deafening. In his vision, Caedhes realized that his planet had been abandoned.
Their masters, an alien species of unimaginable power, had found his people lacking in potential-that was the most charitable way to put it-and ultimately decided to abandon them.
The Wedge, and the wormhole it generated, was the only connection between his planet and the wider galaxy. Once galactic trade was cut off, the foundation of his people's prosperity would be irretrievably lost.
As an act of mercy, the Vagros were given one month to surrender all Wedges and related materials.
In truth, this was less an act of mercy than an insult, because that was nowhere near enough time for them to save themselves.
An administrative planet had no way to sustain its enormous population. The best they could hope for was to ration the food they had and delay starvation a little longer.
Their masters beyond the planet knew this perfectly well, of course.
Yet even in despair, the planet's leaders devised a plan.
Recent experiments in advanced cryopreservation and genomics had given them a chance, though success was far from certain.
At least they had not died in despair.
As the Vagros' survival plan went into action, Caedhes, the "heir" who carried their