'This is time. Let's get started.'

These were about its last words as chief coordinator of the human armada on its fast forward flight for a safe heaven.

They had fled the solar system rather in a hurry just after the announcement of the incoming Centaurian fleet.

They had left behind them everything they knew, everything they possessed, and everything they cherished. The authorities had been clear about that: by the time they reached safety there will be probably no one alive on Earth and in the worst case nothing alive.

The mass departure out of Mars was totally improvised, and that was in spite of the centuries of preparation of a marginal settlement of another solar system. The authorities had to enforce martial law to prevent the spread of murders. They indeed found out too late that the frustrated losers of the lottery for the limited seats had a natural tendency to seek the lucky ones for either revenge or robbery. The only branch of the economy which was still working full steam was the spatial shipyards. But since the Centaurian did not really attack, they had enough time to manage to deport all those who wanted.

The state of the fleet was therefore fully disorganised. The battleships meant to cover the rear of the fleet were in fact in the middle of it. The first vessels to depart relied on cryogeny and had little food available. The latest were fully packed with cargo which was deemed important by self-appointed human referees. That meant artefacts essential to life like hairdryers were mixed with more culturally oriented objects like one of the many true footprint of the first man on Mars. There was of course a true footprint, one of the first man on the Moon, but it had been stomped on by anarchists even before the Earth-Mars war.

There was figuratively room for improvement, and the robots had made so at their first stop. Noticing there was apparently no one in pursuit, they took the time to rethink the human exodus as something bigger and longer.

So the initial target system became just an opportunity to reorganise the fleet and plan a longer journey to a safer heaven. And they had fled further hopping from star to star which were themselves flying away from both the sun and Centaurian star. After 560 000 years, the fifth and last stage led them onto a peculiar star which, their analysis told them, was not orbiting around anything.

That was a free flying star, which seemed to be in the process of being ejected away from the Milky Way but possibly also being caught by its immediate neighbouring galaxy, the Magellan cloud. The star, in the mid sequence like the sun, was granted a life expectancy of 8 billion years and there was a suitable planetary system. Hermes, as they called it , was the perfect vessel to travel to another galaxy. And they were about to embark.

'All right,' answered the pilot coordinator. 'Ignition sequence start. 10, 9, 8... All ships are in sync. 3, 2, 1, 0. The fleet is now decelerating towards the Hermes system.'

'Good,' said the chief coordinator. 'Let's start warming up a few bodies as well.' He made a pause waiting for the chief of the medical staff to complain once again.

'You know I don't like to take unnecessary risks. Waking humans up during the deceleration phase is not our preferred sequence.'

'And you should know that waking them up on a already inhabited world is not my preferred sequence. We need to assess with them the opportunity to abort the landing.'

The chief scientist had politely waited for the last show of his boss, but now he had intervene. 'Actually, by any standard, there are no scientific proof of any form life on this world.'

'That's exactly my point. Life may not be on this world but be this world. You have to admit that it's not standard and that it requires a second thought.'

'I concede the energy emission of that planet is indeed unexplained yet, but that doesn't mean it comes purposefully from a form of intelligence.'

'Tut tut tut. The emission is neither regular nor chaotic; so it carries some kind of information. Besides, the star only emits towards the Magellan cloud. We have to assume that it is communicating across the two galaxies.'

'In which case, it will take centuries, and I don't see how it could harm us and put the settlement in jeopardy. This discussion is futile.'

'You can't ignore the fact that we are facing a supernatural power at work. What if the stars were intelligent life forms with a social life?'

'And I'll extrapolate before you do: what if galaxies were the life forms exchanging information by means of free flying stars? A bit like a boson is linking two particles.'

'I don't understand why you rally me now. Being ironic?'

'Indeed. I just meant you sound too religious for a decent responsible AI. If you talk like that to the humans, you'll have a new religion in no time, and you'll be the cause of the wars that comes with it just after.'

'Ok. Now I see your point. I hope I can convince you that I don't feel godlike almighty. To abide by the famous quote that God does not roll the dice, I'll therefore propose we settle the matter by playing dice.'

'One each and the winner takes it all?'

'One each and the sum is the number of humans to wake up.'

'Fair.'

The others AIs approved silently while the ceremony of the dice unfold.

'Twelve,' smiled the chief, 'that will be the number of forefathers sitting at the human high council.'

'That s odd for an even number,' thought the scientist.