Code Black: A New Outer God Emerges
Wormhole alarms blared—
“?!”
“What the hell! What's going on this time?”
The Galaxy Union's space environment management department at headquarters, tasked with detecting energy fluctuations across the observable universe, erupted into chaos from the sudden alert.
Leus came sprinting into the alarmed sector. He hailed from the great Rubaran race—the species that had harnessed the universe's pinnacle technology to unite intelligent lifeforms into the Galaxy Union. True to his kind, he had blue skin, gray eyes without pupils, and an elongated head stretching back from his face. Rubarans distinguished each other by their unique wavelengths anyway, so physical differences were minimal. The main tell was hair color. Leus's was a deep teal, for the record.
Anyway, he shoved aside the staffer at the console and checked the screen. It kept flickering black, then lighting up again in a loop.
“I've never seen anything like this... Is it a machine glitch...?”
The staffer stammered in confusion. With the black screen repeating like that, it wasn't an unreasonable guess. But an alert had clearly triggered—this wasn't just some random blackout from a glitch.
Alerts usually meant anomalous energy flows or massive surges. Like a cosmic storm, someone deliberately gathering explosive energy, supernovas exceeding norms, or the birth of a supermassive black hole. Across the whole universe, these were frequent enough to ping a few times a week. Most alerts used color codes: cosmic storm was Code Blue, oversized supernova Code Red, and so on. The matching color would flash repeatedly on-screen. A cosmic storm meant a blinking blue display.
So a blinking black screen meant...
“...Code Black.”
Leus, staring at the display, felt chills rack his entire body. In his fifty years on the job, he'd never seen one. But as the most dangerous alert of all, it was burned into his memory.
Code Black was on a whole different level from the rest. Normal alerts signaled excess energy or anomalies. But Code Black meant the universe's energy had vanished completely from that spot in an instant—like a vacuum. It spat in the face of conservation laws, a blatant violation of cosmic rules.
...And in this universe, that pointed to one thing.
“An Outer God... A new one has appeared.”
The birth of a new Outer God.
“Location: Galaxy B-02345. Precisely about two billion kilometers from the Skull Nebula.”
“...Skull Nebula. Famous tourist spot.”
Receiving the briefing from space environment manager Leus were department head Celest and space safety countermeasures head Allegros. Both Rubarans like Leus, nearly identical in appearance save for slight height differences. Celest, being female, had a more curvaceous figure. Hair colors varied: hers fiery red, his brown.
“Yes. Tourists were visiting today as well. Laxstoll Tour—a properly registered Galaxy Union company, pretty big operation.”
They'd been riding a wormhole about 1.5 million kilometers from the nebula to take in the view. And two billion kilometers farther out was ground zero for this Code Black—where the new Outer God had popped up.
“As expected, reports came in from that tourist ship. Sudden headaches and dizziness overwhelming passengers and crew.”
“...Mental contamination.”
Causing mental contamination from two billion kilometers away meant an entity of staggering power. To affect beings at that distance implied deliberate intent. By Outer God classification standards, that pegged it as upper-level or higher.
“Lucky for us, it doesn't seem to be moving from its spawn point.”
“Then let's dispatch a rescue ship. If it's staying put, one with a mind barrier should get close enough. There'll be survivors from strong-willed species.”
As safety head Allegros called for his subordinates, Leus shook his head to stop him.
“Ah, no need for that. Some space adventurer showed up, purified everyone's minds, and the report came in after the fact. They're heading back to the Union base via wormhole now, deeming the area too dangerous.”
“...?”
“Purified...? From an estimated upper-level Outer God's mental contamination?”
Celest and Allegros stared at Leus like he'd lost his mind. He let out a deep sigh.
“I don't get it either. Word is, he's a young Terra male. Said he built his own brainwave purification device.”
“...Huh.”
The two heads exhaled in disbelief.
Tech to realign brainwaves and purge contamination existed, sure. But even the Rubarans—leaders in cosmic science—had only recently commercialized it. And that was for standard mental attacks. Against Outer Gods? Probably capped at low-level contamination.
Yet some random Terra space adventurer whipped one up himself? And cleared upper-level Outer God contamination? Absurd.
Something's off.
The three Rubarans concluded they'd head straight to the Union base housing Laxstoll Tour and investigate this Terra guy. No one could approach those coordinates near the new Outer God anyway. Better to grab the suspicious one and squeeze him for info.
Whoa, so this is riding a wormhole. Kinda queasy, like my stomach's churning.
Just like in the movies—a hole rips open in space ahead of the tourist ship, and bam, we're in a whole other spot. My teleportation's more like poof-gone, poof-here. This feels way more sci-fi.
Instantly jumped about fifteen light-years from where we were. Sure, peanuts in cosmic terms, but without wormholes or teleports, even near-lightspeed ships would take ages. Pretty far, all told.
Connection to my clone body holds steady even here. Main body powers... yeah, relayed through the clone, output's weaker, but I can still pull off most anything. Fifteen light-years is roughly 140 trillion kilometers... and it's all seamless, authority flowing fine. Hits home how cosmic I really am.
“Glad we could come together, at least.”
“Haha, yeah.”
Yupiter grins beside me. Truth is, I owe this ride through the wormhole to the old man. See, for all my “space adventurer” talk, I had zero ID. Could've whipped one up in seconds if I wanted, but I was going no-cheat mode, so I skipped it.
That nearly got me booted off the ship after the rescue. Grateful, sure, but regs say no riding without papers. Fair enough—space pirates abound, and monsters mimic humans to hijack ships.
...Stings a bit, me saying that.
Anyway, as they were about to toss me, Yupiter stepped up and vouched for me. Who argues with a Meias elder? Slid right into his group and boarded.
Oh, my custom ship? Stuffed it in the cargo hold. Tiny personal craft—fit perfect.
Wonder if the old guy's onto my true nature and that's why he's cool? Or just grateful? Either way, works for me. Got papers now, and he'll reissue ID in his name at the base. Just roll with the favor. Any ulterior motives? I'll sniff 'em out. Worst case, memory wipe fixes it. If all else fails, bulldoze and bail.
“...Gasp.”
“M-Master! What's wrong?!”
“I-I don't know. Sudden chill all over...”
“......”
Hah, sharp old coot. Faintly sensing an Outer God's profound aura, huh? Heh heh heh!