TheWRITEaddiction.com

Narrated by Vedek Lira

The war ended. The war had not ended. The war was always ending.

I walk the corridors of time as others walk dusty trails. In every direction I look, I see Earth broken and gasping — but I also see her sons and daughters planting new seeds, rebuilding old engines, singing songs among the rubble. Humanity stands on the knife’s edge: destroyer and dreamer both.

It was not their weapons that stirred us to gather. No — it was their garden.
The station they flung into orbit — steel bones filled with vines, frogs croaking against the hum of generators, air thick with the scent of rain. A pocket of Eden above a scarred world. That flame of hope lit even the eyes of the Q.

And so we met — at the place mortals never walk.

The Last Roundup

A saloon carved from starlight, swinging doors opening onto the void. The bar polished with the shine of a thousand galaxies, lanterns burning on antimatter wicks. Here, in the silence between heartbeats, the omnipotent rode in.

I stood and spoke first — because I always speak first. And last. And in between.

“The humans teeter,” I said. “Khan has left them, but not without leaving himself behind. The Botany Bay drifts, yet its shadow falls across centuries. What shall we do with the children of Earth?”

---

The Council Speaks

Qylarin strolled in with his gambler’s swagger, boots tapping without touching the ground, a silver pocket watch dangling like a noose. He tipped his hat to no one, dropped into a chair, and smirked.

“Reckon we let ’em play their hand. They’ve shown their cards before — war, conquest, arrogance. But this little garden-in-the-sky? That’s a wild card. Almost makes me think they’re worth another bet.”

Tavrel, the Organian, appeared as a robed elder at the far end of the table. His presence was quiet but enough to hush even Qylarin’s grin.

“I have seen enough of war to know where it leads. Humanity is dangerous, yet weary. If we interfere, we may break their spirit. If we leave them, they may break themselves.”

Zeyara entered in a shimmer of crystalline robes, each movement refracting judgment.

“Your patience is indulgence. Khan waits in shadow. Humanity must be weighed.”

Ilios flickered into being, a face made of light and sorrow.

“I gave once — to Charlie Evans — and he twisted gift into terror. Humanity must be guarded from power. Yet their garden shows they can nurture life. Perhaps themselves.”

Kaelen, the Traveler, spoke softly, hands folded.

“I have walked among them. Their children dream beyond ruin. Dreams deserve a chance.”

Maelis, soil-stained hands resting on the table, let a single blossom open between them.

“I have seen wrath destroy worlds. Yet forgiveness rebuilds. I will not destroy them for what they might become.”

And then came Seraphine, lace swirling, parasol twirling, laughter bright as starlight.

“Oh, darlings — must we always brood? They need not execution; they need spectacle! A revelation to humble them.”

---

The Accord

Silence settled over the cosmic saloon. Lanterns flickered like distant suns.

I spoke once more:

“Then we agree. We will guide. Quietly. Indirectly. Through hands not our own.”

The Council leaned back, each lost in thought.

Qylarin chuckled.

“The Vulcans are already watchin’. They just need a reason to step forward.”

I looked beyond time and saw it: a ship rising from Montana soil, a warp trail blazing across the dawn.

“The Phoenix waits to rise. The Vulcans wait to greet. Humanity waits to begin.”

---

The lanterns dimmed. The cards lay on the table. And for the first time in millennia, the gods of the stars bet on mankind.