The Hyperion Fracture

Exiling Crime Beyond the Milky Way

Prologue—Humanity’s Cosmic Punishment

Over the past ten thousand years, as humanity spread its reach across the stars, societies faced an unexpected and profound challenge: the sheer scale of criminality spanning countless colonies, space stations, and inhabited worlds. With hundreds of millions labelled as criminals scattered throughout the sprawling expanse of the Milky Way, maintaining order became a monumental task. This predicament forced empires—and the leaders who ruled them—to seek a radical solution, inspired by a historical echo from Earth's past.

Long ago, during the age of colonial expansion, Earth’s powers exiled criminals across vast oceans to settle new, distant lands. Drawing from this precedent, historians and policymakers proposed a novel idea: why not send those deemed “undesirables” not just to new planets, but beyond the confines of the Milky Way itself? This cosmic exile would consign entire generations of convicts to an immense and cold void, traversing the intergalactic gulf aboard massive ships over lifetimes stretching far beyond what any Earthbound exile could imagine.

The chosen destination was not arbitrary. A galaxy rich with unclaimed worlds stood as a distant hope and challenge—perfectly suited to become a new frontier for those cast out. This sentence of perpetual travel and resettlement served multiple purposes: it alleviated the logistical and ethical burden of policing vast criminal populations while simultaneously opening a door to the potential colonization of an entirely separate galaxy. Yet, the implications were profound. These exiles and their descendants face a future defined by endless motion through space, creating isolated societies born from punishment but forced to forge new identities among stars beyond human memory.

This extraordinary form of banishment encapsulates humanity’s struggle to balance justice, order, and survival across cosmic scales. It reflects both the echoes of our ancient history and the vast unknown of our future. As civilizations within the Milky Way continue to grapple with the consequences, the exiled populations represent a poignant, if sombre, reminder of how far humanity has ventured—and what costs come with that journey.

One—My ancestors were sent here thousands of years ago.

At a monumental gathering known as the Council of Aligned Worlds, two hundred and fifty representatives and their teams convened to tackle an unprecedented challenge: relocating hundreds of millions of criminals to a distant galaxy. This ambitious plan involved sending convicts across the cosmos aboard a fleet of immense generation ships, a journey spanning multiple human lifetimes. The stakes are astronomically high—without meticulous preparation, this mission could doom its passengers to extinction rather than offer a fresh start. The burden weighed heavily on their minds.

“The scale and challenges of interstellar exile are immense.” Dr. Keins, a representative from the New Terra Alliance, was the first to speak. “Not only do we need to create ships that can last twenty or thirty human lifetimes, but we must also send the resources for at least the first of those lifetimes as agricultural practices take hold.”

“That is assuming that these… outlaws practice agriculture!” Another representative lobbed into the conversation, frustration frosting his tone.

The council faced a colossal logistical dilemma. Transporting hundreds of millions of people demands not just vast numbers of spacecraft but also extraordinary resources, from life-support systems and food supplies to medical facilities and social infrastructure. To sustain human life over several generations during the voyage, at least twenty massive generation ships must be constructed. These self-contained ecosystems must support their inhabitants as they traverse the void, often hundreds or thousands of years away from any star system that could offer refuge or provide resources. There was nothing in the black between the galaxies. Just cold darkness.

Moreover, the first generation of settlers aboard these ships must include not only the criminals themselves but also experienced leaders to navigate this unprecedented odyssey. The council has resolved that captains and crews will come predominantly from the military forces of the Aligned Worlds—individuals who, ironically, have themselves been convicted of crimes. This decision underscores the complexity of maintaining order and safety in such an isolated environment, where discipline and command experience are vital for survival.

“Have we thought of the implications and reflected on a galactic exile?” A representative from the Outer Colonies spoke up. “Have we truly? From what I know of history, this decision has been made before…” She peered around the room, making eye contact with as many of the delegates as she could. “It came back to haunt our ancient ancestors as it may likely come back to haunt us!”

This venture raised profound questions about justice, governance, and humanity’s reach beyond the galaxy’s cradle. Will these outcasts build new civilizations, free from past constraints, or will the harsh conditions and internal tensions fracture their fragile societies?

The council’s deliberations reveal a mix of pragmatism and desperation, balancing hopes for a second chance against the sobering reality of interstellar exile.

Ultimately, sending millions of criminals to another galaxy is more than an exercise in space travel; it is a test of endurance, leadership, and the enduring human spirit. As the Aligned Worlds prepare for this journey, they confront the vast unknown—not only of space itself, but of the social experiments their decision sets into motion across the stars.

Two—They were treated like cattle, rounded up from across the known worlds, and hurtled into the darkness.

Three—We came from a place called Earth.