Galactic Mariner

Far, far beyond the outer fringes of the known multiverse, in the uncharted, unsuspected wasteland of intergalactic space-time, its origin forgotten, its destination inconcievable, its speed measurable only in light-millenia, a tiny object sailed. Size is relative. The ship (we may call it that for lack of a better term) was the size of a small planet. Indeed, it was a small planet, yet tiny indeed when compared to the sails that propelled it on its way. A set of six, extending in all directions around the ship, a micron thick and each covering the area of a solar system, they were pushed at ever-increasig speed by the galactic wind, that rush of photonic energy racing in all directions away from the center of a galaxy.

The inhabitants of the ship-world knew nothing of the reason for their journey, their one overriding belief, bred into their very souls, was that they must sail. None knew where, none knew why; they must sail. Seven times had they achieved the heights of scientific knowledge that might allow them to understand their mission, if mission it was, and seven times through war or acts of nature they had been blasted back into barbarism. Yet still they yearned to know: "Where do we sail, and why?"