AP-755

Stars are scarce here, so far from the galactic core. Only a few million or so, spread out over ten-thousand cubic parsecs. Although, even that is relative. Beyond the edge of the wedge of space designated as AP-755, there truly is nothing. An emptiness so profound you could propel a small galaxy through it for a trillion generations and never touch another. Don’t even try to put that into perspective—you’ll go mad. Studies conclusively demonstrate that universal perspective is deleterious to the sanity of organic forms of life and, more often than not, those of the artificial variety.

By comparison, AP-755 is a rather crowded place. And as young as it is bustling with celestial bodies. Its stars, on average, are only a billion years old. Its planets, those which boast conditions where life is tenable, are just beginning to suggest the presence of an evolutionary process. Not that it will ever achieve fruition: the Multiverse has far too many invasive species for that. Even here, at the edge of the Milky Way, the vanguard germs of panspermia and the sleek hulls of starships venture. However, they will arrive only to learn they were beaten to the punch by the forerunners of the Antograd Empire.