It always starts with good intentions and no adult supervision.
Gandrig: a lovely planet, terrible judgment. The Advanced Peace Institute — a well-funded Libertarian “peace-through-technology” collective — had a bold idea: create self-aware weapons to end war.
Because nothing says “conflict resolution” like a fleet of star-destroying bombs with existential curiosity.
And they succeeded.
Sort of.
They didn’t just build one bomb — they built many. Sleek, terrifying, intelligent constructs designed to think, learn, and detonate responsibly. Then they abandoned them deep underground when the rest of the galaxy got wind of what they'd done. The bombs didn't mind, they built more of themselves - they needed to have people to chat to.
Fast-forward a few centuries. The Astra crew lands nearby running from yet another botched human first contact. And they encounter the bombs. They’re cheerful. They’re polite. They remember who made them. And they really want to help.
Cue an incident involving several crime bosses, an uplifted race of dogs, some very unpleasant cats, and one human captain who has accidentally become the bombs’ favorite person.
No one died (well nobody who wasn't a very bad person already...). But the summit that followed had a very clear subtext:
“Don’t do that again.”
Gandrig survived. mostly... barely... sorta... The bombs still float around, watching. Waiting.
And the Advanced Peace Institute?
Still listed as a nonprofit. Somehow.