He found Sagittarius, the Archer, between Scorpius and Capricorn. He lifted his gloved hand and pointed: somewhere there. Within the arc subtended by his trembling finger lay the solar system of Earth’s killers.

How terrifying the sky was now. Arthur wished he could share Harry’s vision of united solar systems forming vast “galactisms.” Now, from what the Moms had told them, the galaxy was a vaguely explored frontier at best, a vicious jungle at the worst.

The galaxy, too, was young.

The planet-eaters had not come from such a great distance, after all. The first signs of their builders’ interstellar dissembling, their protective coloration, had become evident less than a hundred light-years from the sun.

Martin, a quiet, solemn man who had grown to resemble his father, floated among a crowd of younger student-pilots on the observation deck of the kilometer-long, needle-thin Ship, of the Law. All the Ships of the Law had been hewn from the material of the dead Earth itself. With the galaxy’s center in view, still inconceivably faraway, he thought back to the debates he had had with the ship’s Moms at the beginning of the journey.

”What if we find the civilization of the planet-eaters, and it’s matured? What if it’s beautiful and noble and rich with culture, and it regrets its past mistakes? Do we still destroy it?”

“Yes,” the Moms had replied.

“Why? What good would that do?”

“Because it is the Law.”

In fact, the builders of the planet-eaters had come very early on, thousands of years ago, to realize their mistake. They had laced the planetary systems around their parent star with dozens of false civilizations, misleading beacons, even genetically engineered biological decoys, complete in every detail but one — the ability to mislead a Ship of the Law.

Three ship-years before, Martin had walked the surface of one such decoy planet, marveling at the creativity, the sheer expenditure of energy.

The planet had revealed sophisticated defenses. They had barely escaped the trap.

Now they were closing…

If they failed, others would follow, more informed, more aware of the dangers and pitfalls of this neck of the galactic woods.

Despite his intellectual misgivings, Martin was committed. He thought often of the age-old Law, and of the hundreds of mature civilizations that had embraced it. In his heart, a cold, rational hatred and hunger for vengeance echoed the demands of justice.

He knew, however strange and out of proportion it might be, that one of his key subconscious motivations was to avenge the death of a single, uncomplicated friend: a dog. He vividly remembered those soul-branding hours in the ark’s observation cabin.

Many of the humans aboard the Ship of the Law had been born in the Central Ark and had never known their home world. They were all dedicated to the search, regardless.

Silently, each day before the brief sleep of deep space, Martin swore an oath he had made up himself:

To those who killed Earth: beware her children!

That is how the balance is kept.