The PCC is the second largest religion in the Atlantic Federation.
The birth and life of a god through the long ages.
An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind.
A small, hidden sect among the stars, distributed throughout hundreds of cells, The Word of Creation has dedicated itself to cleansing humanity of the taint of synthetic and altered life, and of holding a strong and pure humanity above all the Galaxy, through whatever means necessary.
By late afternoon, the sky starts to cloud over. The sun shines behind the fluffy clouds, gilding the edges and showing a Jacob's-ladder of rays streaming through the gaps...very pretty. Gradually the clouds shift into a new configuration: you realize with awe-struck, preternatural clarity that the clouds form a map of a coast-line that you know against the blue sky as ocean: surely it's a Sign! Suddenly, the golden beams coalesce into one long ray that strikes across the blue. A star-like gleam flashes under the ray: perhaps it is an island? But the charts show no island there...who would want to hide an island? Who could do it?