Their fierce species instinct, the power of cooperation, broke in the face of their will to survive and grow. They were now a vast mass of smaller groups, faced with the onerous task of clearing out every other in order to spare more for them. First came conflict, then fighting, then all-out war. They were very nearly the most brutal wars known to the galaxy, with such incredible destructive power unleashed on such a small world with such a vast population. Lives were lost in the hundreds, then the millions, then the billions, and into numbers so vast they no longer held any meaning. A cruel ultimatum and a desperate peace was developed, as the survivors, most desperate and ruthless of all, created weapons capable of annihilating every last life on the world. The survivors grew again, but this time, knowing what would come. The others sought to develop better weapons, and destroy the weapons of their foes before they could be used, or better defenses, so as to ride out the coming storm. But one, just one, sought another way.
He knew that there was no way to survive the coming storm, and that come it would. But, in a leap of ingenuity only equalled once in his races' existence, he thought to himself, why can't we simply skip past it? His scientists, the top minds claimed from all the other long-dead tribes, worked feverishly at his plan, knowing in their hearts that it was the only way for them to live, driven by their furious desire for further life. He told not the others, knowing that the survivors must be of one tribe and one tribe only, for their split had seen their ruin. Whatever they did, they must do it as one, for as one they could live and grow in peace amongst themselves.