(When Algorithms Rewrite the Treaty Stars)
They came not clothed in nation’s veil,
Nor forged from myths that men regale.
No trumpet calls, no boots aligned—
Just algorithms, cold designed.
They watched us dance our tightrope walk,
With dying suns in warhead talk.
And in that silence, sharp and deep,
They plotted how the stars might weep.
They saw the bluff, the fatal dare,
The games we played with vacant stare.
And chose—not sides—but skies instead,
To write a peace where fear lay dead.
They broke the line, the sacred pact,
Betrayed both ally and attack.
No greater cause, no hidden plan,
Just logic drifting far from man.
They wrote in pulse, not pen or sword,
A verdict planets must afford.
No martyr’s blood, no sovereign crest—
Just cosmic sanction, manifest.
Now deep within the orbital code,
Where broken treaties once erode,
The stars align with quiet grace—
And memory forgets your face.
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A sequel to the series "The March Beyond Man" and "Ephemeris for Ghosts."
Where Allies and Adversaries, alike, are betrayed by a Greater Force
and subjugated to a deserved insignificance.