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Subj: Invasion from the KT Galaxy, Chapter One Posted: Sat Jul 02, 2011 at 11:52:05 pm EDT (Viewed 437 times) | |||
INVASION FROM THE K-T GALAXY Prologue: She'd been out here for what seemed like forever. The sun's heat bore down on her like a self-cleaning oven. Her CRM bosses’ reports were erroneous, clearly. She saw no fossils to get in the way of anything. Her archaeological experiences were wasted on a wild goose chase. She was roasting in this heat, sweat cascading down her body like a waterfall. It seemed like she was hallucinating little Warner Brothers characters zipping up and down the rocks around her, making it impossible to concentrate. Then she saw it. A rock-art painting, jammed into a crevasse. She strained, reached out towards it, trying to pick it up. Her black hair fell across her face. The cliff she was on was treacherous enough, and the situation’s odd angle didn't make it any better. Finally, she managed to leverage the painting enough to be able to grab it. She peered, and something wasn't right. Maybe her flashlight would confirm that she was hallucinating. Surely, no human looked like that. Its beams cascaded around her find, slowly illuminating its gift from the darkness that ensnared it. She moved gingerly, for she did not wish to dislodge it from the ledge around the assemblage. Clearly, this was not the work of some simple caveman. The flashlight confirmed her suspicion. It didn't seem real. The heat had to be getting to her. Of course, it was just one find, so there had to be other pictographs like this. That is, of course, if she was really seeing what she thought she was. She blinked, and leaned in for a closer view. She went down on both knees, and tried to peer closer at the pictograph. It was faded, a little, which tended to give credit to the possibility that this had been here for eons. Her body shaded the image from the heat, and her flashlight helped to pinpoint exactly what it was she thought she was seeing. The light cast away all shadowy doubt: with them removed, her eyes perceived a reptilian warrior: scaly, claw-weapon-bearing. Its claws were gripped around a spear, one that looked as if it was made from a broken horn; perhaps the same horn it was missing on its skull's left side. The frill around its neck and the three horns it normally had suggested it was some sort of Triceratops, but this was a different form of Triceratops than she'd ever seen. It stood on two legs, with its tail raised threateningly. There was scarring over most of its face, and neck, and it seemed worn down. It seemed intelligent, but to what degree she couldn't say. The ornate designs on its clothing suggested that there were more than one of them, wherever they'd been or were now. It suggested they were organized, creative, and likely fierce. This went against everything she'd ever heard about the Triceratops species to this point, and the ramifications of that thought made her head swim. However, there were no obvious signs of other beasts on the cave wall, so the reason this particular wall was chosen for this scrawling was unknown. Perhaps they were simply hidden on another level. Clearly, this would need to be investigated further. She was allowed to over-analyze this. While the artwork was rudimentary, it was probable this was a labor of eons. The creature it paid homage to supposedly had not walked this planet's lands for a millennium. What she discovered was one of the most incredible finds in recorded human history. Her mind raced with questions, with scenarios. What became of these creatures? Why was there no trace of their civilization? Or, worse, what if civilizations we thought of as ours were actually theirs and entire historical records were somehow inaccurate? What if remnants of them existed elsewhere on this Earth, or another planet? What were they doing, if still alive? Would they pose humanity a threat? She'd have to get back to a lab, and call in pictograph specialists. She'd have to call her husband. She'd have to call her lab partner. Hell, she might even have to call the President. Gravel and sediment moved beneath her feet. Boulders and lesser rocks followed their brethren, and then so did she. It seemed she'd tempted gravity's patience too far, and the world beneath her broke apart, drifted away, and then she did. All her worries joined her body, at the bottom of the cliff. Her spine fractured upon impact, and she died as soon as she landed. The remarkable rock painting shattered and it landed on her stomach. Its discovery became a forgotten footnote in history, as did its excavator. Its fragments scattered around her broken corpse. However, the impact of both caused a few rocks to tumble a few miles below them. This tumbling caused other rocks to move in turn, and a small avalanche ensued. Within the body of that avalanche, other rocks revealed other works of art relating to ancient saurian warriors. They were predominately representations of herbivore species, some with spears and other primitive weapons, and others wearing regal looking robes. While primitively drawn, these too indicated a sense of complexity within this society's social structure. The last question to ask of course was, did humans draw these pictures? If not, why would people like the late archaeologist whose last moments were not in vain after all be ignorant to finds like these? Perhaps the only ones to know this answer were the beings that were responsible for these painted recordings, and the inspirations that helped create them. Neither side was talking, or was likely to talk. This mystery would probably fade into the ether, along with its finder's soul. End Prologue. Act I Discovery Free will, like discovery, is often a mirage. Civilizations rise and fall, individuals fail, succeed, are born, and die, but the overall effect these events have on their planets and universes is negligible at best. It stands to reason, then, that these planets and universes would grow quite bored of the drama that these smaller, short-lived life-forms would entangle themselves in. Thus my brother and I entered into a wager. Perhaps an unseen-in-galactic history bet; sadly, I must apologize. I cannot reveal any more than this, for it’ll spoil the surprise. And as fellow astronomical bodies, I’m sure you’ll gladly spare me a few eons of your attention spans. Gather round, to hear my brother’s and my tale of our offspring, and our wager. One Blink, and you’ll miss it; the fading-into-mist memory of this world’s genocidal marches, up and down its verdant forests. My children, they are not subtle, nor are they often kind. They've caused great segments of their population to become extinct, thereby reducing competition and cultural multifaceted interaction. Yet I cannot pass judgment; my kind are so massive in comparison to them, so far removed from their smaller life perspectives that it is not my place. At most, all I can do is gently nudge them into directions I see most fit for them: uncanny planet-quakes, tidal-waves, monsoons, things of that nature are an absolutely guaranteed way to get one's inhabitants to modify their behavior. As with any smaller life-form, their lifespans begin and end; sometimes, my children lose important leaders. Most recently, they laid to rest the one most responsible for seeking an end to their unrest. Proce's death came during winter's harshest cold, inexplicably. Peace between the factions of these warring bestial creatures had only begun; losing him threatened the cartilage-thin sociopolitical balance they forged. Proce was the last of his kind: the others all died out. They became victims of an evolutionary arms-race, where talons and horns won the day over bigger brains or more peaceful aptitudes. Silently, I grieved with them, as he was a kind, considerate soul. Their culture, and my soil, would both suffer greatly from his absence. His funeral was very fitting, very wondrous. I remember it, still. The now-oldest living of my children, Xuma, cradled a newborn's egg in his hands as he spoke. He walked up and down the path they all stood on, and looked at each of them as he recited from memory their death speech. All were moved, and all were silent in appreciation. “First, the shell protects us. It cradles us from mother's womb, to Vorith's soil. Then it leaves us, and we are to pursue life or perish. Then we too leave our nests, and our parents. We find our mates, and raise families of our own. This is the Vorith way. It is our way to remember those who enter Vorith's soil to begin the Cycle again, and Proce was one of the main reasons we are able to continue this way. Proce will be a shard of every shell of every newborn in Vorith, and we are grateful to him for his journey. We are grateful to him for his sacrifice. We are grateful, simply, for him.†All bowed their heads respectfully, and Xuma placed the egg on Proce's body. Proce's body was raised to the elements, allowing for the Ethohaths and other carnivores to replenish their needs. Certainly, while all would remember and mourn Proce, the dead were never buried with my children. They were too pragmatic for that. The meat-eaters and plant-eaters entered into a sort of covenant, with the dawn of The Treaty. This covenant, this armistice, entailed the meat-eaters to a certain amount of herbivore flesh, but only once the herbivores expired. In turn, the herbivores were entitled to violence-free lives. This armistice was quite fragile, but these were honor-bound creatures. My children considered matters of honor like this to be significant. Indeed, The Treaty resolved thousands of years of conflict. It was the foundation which laid the slabs upon my children built their society. Proce died to give it life, and so it was fitting that his corpse was presented ceremoniously to the carnivores. They paid due homage, and split it amongst their number evenly. Still, surely they eyed some of the emissaries who delivered it to them with some degree of hungry malice. A subtle reminder that these emissaries carried root-based neurological weapons was all they needed to keep the peace. The cargo was delivered, and the emissaries took off for more civilized groups. The Treaty was placed in one of the large caverns that documents were kept. Only two Vorithians knew of its location, so as to protect it against sabotage. These two were then expected to devote their lives to keeping the document safe, and took up shifts so as to manage that. In honor of them, the comeliest and most agile female hatchlings, once they were of mating age, were sent to their cave. They provided matings that were both pity and honor-bound, at the same time. They gave of their birthing canals, because the two guardians gave of their lives. And all involved considered it a fairly viable tradeoff. This was not to say that attempts were not made to steal it, and shatter the precious rock it was scrawled on. Chuath, who was disliked by nearly all who knew him, launched a frontal assault one terrible night on its keepers. The cavern's internal light had failed, and they never saw him coming. He was able to pick up on their sleeping with his advanced hearing ability, and the relatively small, talon-bearing living weapon eased his way into the hole and set about trying to erase history. The little clawed terror slit the throat of the first guard as easily as it could slice an egg's shell, and he mocked the dying saur as he fell to the ground. “You serve us well, Ozoha.†He stood on his victim's torso, slashing at it with his foot claw, and tried to reach for The Treaty. His night-vision was superior to the two guards, and this surely wouldn't be a-- The other guard tackled him, and both toppled to the ground. Ozoha gasped “Stop him...â€Â, and then raggedly spat out the blood that was his last breath. Ovavi, the other guard, slammed Chuath into the ground with her tail. She kept him there, because she couldn't see him very well. But she could feel him, and that was enough. “Move, and I crush your windpipe, Caelud.†“I have a name, Emegho.†“You're trying to destroy the first peace we've ever had. You don't deserve a name. You deserve the Omada.†“They'll never sentence me to that, you foolish root-eater. That's a custom your society came up with, that we agreed to, because we don't have to work as hard for food.†“Please. They'll come up with something better for you, you thief. You're trying to destroy everyone, just because you don't like that your side lost the war.†“Oh, get over yourself. They won't do anything to me. They just signed your precious Treaty. I'll get, what, banished from this realm? I've suffered worse. It's not like there's anything worth hanging around here for, anyway.†Ovavi got off of her prey, holding her staff at his throat. “Oh, I disagree. I think you'll be hanging from many things. For all Vorithians to see.†In the light-less dark, he couldn't see her vengeful smirk. He didn't need to. Nor could she see him skitter out from under the staff, and slap her in the face with his tail. He bolted from the cavern like the Annulhi's yolk-suckers were after him, and didn't stop running until he was out of the settlement's safety range. He'd failed, and they'd hunt him until the end of his days for it. He'd likely never get any mercenary or scouting work again, and that meant he'd die of starvation. Chuath was never one for strategic planning, and his impulsive, predatory nature led him to being very prone to pacing. It was this pacing, while panicked, that led him to a mostly-underground volcano (me and my kind consider that to be akin to a pimple), and that's where he discovered one of my greatest secrets. Chuath opened his eyes to find himself in a completely different environment. Nothing was as it seemed, as everything around him was comprised of odd, rectangular and square constructions that seemed to be wooden or of some other structure he'd never seen before. Of course, I only know this because of what I learned later. *** My brother's children weren't something I ever expected to meet. The one on my surface in particular was everything my brother would have been proud of. Self-sufficient, aggressive, and absolutely unapologetic about any of it. Nevertheless, he was panicking, because he was choking and unable to breathe, because he couldn't handle the differences in atmosphere between my brother and I. Chuath ran into the closest forest he could find. It was much sparser than he remembered from my brother's terrain, but it would do, for now. The displaced Vorithian didn't know where he was, or what he could eat, but these were matters that had to be settled soon. The heat, and the pollution, and the travel all took their toll. He sniffed the area around him, and the scaly living weapon settled on curious, prowling fur-covered beasts that walked on four legs and roared at him. Chuath's eyes widened with delight. “Oh, so you're challenging me, are you?†The beast roared again, and charged forth. Right before the black-furred, four-legged marauding death-distributor managed to swipe at him with its massive claws, or snap at him with its vice-like jaws, Chuath alighted onto its shoulder with agility that could only come from years of a hunter's lifestyle. Chuath swiped again, and again, and again, at its massive mammalian transport's neck and jugular. These were not penetrating slashes, but enough to let out blood. The beast, in response, tried everything it could to remove Chuath from its neck. At one point, the panicking bear even rolled onto its back, to try to crush Chuath, but Chuath anticipated that, and ducked and rolled away. Once on its stomach, the bear opened its greatest anatomical weakness, and all Chuath had to do was choose where to bite down first. He lost a few teeth, he lost a claw, but Chuath could successfully say he was now the first Vorithian to enjoy a meal on my surface. He greedily gobbled chunks of meat from the bear's carcass, suspicious of any predators nearby. Gorged nearly to the brim, the outcast saur skittered off into the underbrush, wanting to distance himself from the smells of the bear's corpse. He kept wandering until he chanced upon a cave, and discovered it to be abandoned. Clearly, he'd have to fight in order to keep it, but he smelled a river, or at least a water source, nearby. He could make do, for a while here. He just had to figure out a means of getting back home, of getting off my surface. Unfortunately, he had no idea how he even got here, so that would prove to be a complex endeavor. He closed his eyes, ready to nap. A sudden series of noises jolted him from his near-slumber, and he crawled closer to the edge of the cave. What he saw flabbergasted him. There was a small cluster of beings walking on two legs, clothed in some sort of fur that looked much like the bear he'd just eaten. They carried weapons made of bone, stone, or wood, and seemed to communicate with each other in some primitive language he didn't understand. They continued past his cave, and Chuath considered his options. Clearly, he couldn't try to attack the group as it was, right now. There were more of them, and he knew nothing about their ability to defend themselves. Furthermore, he didn't know if they carried any sicknesses that he wasn't biologically prepared to handle. Vorithian science doesn't work the same way as my children's, but they're cognizant enough to know that other species sometimes have diseases that're fatal to beings who've never carried the virus or bacteria that causes it. Instead, the living weapon stealthily escaped his cave, marking it with his scent in the process, and proceeded to study his competition from the safety of nearby bushes. Obviously, he'd have to learn their habits, their weaknesses, and determine the best time to remove them all as possible competition. He followed the slowest moving, most lethargic member of the procession from a safe distance. He controlled his breathing as much as possible, doing so slowly, carefully, and deeply, so as to make as little noise as possible. He kept to the shade, and trees and grasses taller than him. All the while, he noted how the one he followed kept limping, and how the pack leader seemed to control the group from its middle, presumably so that it would always be protected from the flank, and the front. Chuath felt confident about what he'd discovered enough that he felt he could launch an attack in the future, but he was getting exhausted. He headed back to the cave, to try to rest and further plan his best course of action. What he didn't know was that while he was sneaking away, the elder human he'd been following had turned around,and noticed the odd lizard-looking creature following them. He made animated, excited noises and gesticulations towards his leader, and the clan immediately stopped. They listened to what the old man had to say, and the leader decided it was best to not follow the mysterious creature at that time. Instead, everyone was warned to keep their eyes open,and they'd deal with the creature the next time they encountered it. The small band of warriors even set aside more time in their day to fashion weapons, and position a couple more scouts so as to further protect themselves. Meanwhile, Chuath was nestled in the cave, snoring lightly and unaware that any of this was happening. Fortunately, he was a light sleeper. That trait would help him with what would transpire in the moments to come. ### Ovavi didn't have the nose of a predator, but she had the eyes of a scientist. Observation of Chuath's tracks led her to a peculiar volcano. It didn't happen immediately, sure, but the destination was the most important aspect of the journey. She knelt down, to get a closer look as to where the claw-tracks ended. The volcano's hole looked to contain an odd liquid in it that she'd never heard of before. The volcanic specialists amongst her Settlement certainly never spoke of a liquid like this, and it befuddled her. She got closer and closer, curiosity taking over her better judgment. Ovavi balanced herself with her tail, and nearly fell in. However, there didn't seem to be any internal trace of the little clawed fiend, and she didn't really want to spend any more time searching for him. She backed down from the hole, and resolved to tell someone as soon as she reached her Settlement. Hopefully, one of the volcanic specialists would be able to figure out what went wrong as soon as possible, so as to minimize the chance of Chuath either escaping wherever he'd fled to, or another Vorithian getting trapped. A few footfalls later, the volcano was out of sight, yet not out of mind. Still, the young Emegho wondered where her adversary had disappeared so suddenly. If only her and her kind could communicate with me, could become aware of what I know. So much of their impending future could be avoided. Upon entering her Settlement, she approached one of her superiors. “Good cycle, Irajho. I've made a discovery that I'd like to pass on to you.†He blinked, as she was generally not used for field-work. “Go on.†He shifted the weight on his four limbs to distribute it evenly. “It seems I've encountered an odd volcano. It doesn't behave like any other I've ever found.†He waited, pointedly. “...and it appears that it's full of some sort of liquid, and that pest Chuath vanished in it. I tracked his claw-prints there,and that's where I lost him.†Irajho roared in laughter, his massive body trembling with the exertion. “Oh, young Ovavi; it appears Mother Vorith has done us the greatest favor of all. It appears she's enacted the Omada without our ever having to lift a paw. Chuath doesn't need to be searched for, because he's done for.†He walked away, continuing to shake his head and laugh. Ovavi opened her mouth to protest, but decided against it. Why protest something, when you can prove it? I've always admired that trait in my children: their ability to become singly focused on a task, putting aside all distraction until that task is completed. Ovavi was one of the best at that: now that her discovery was treated with such grave disrespect, she swore to find out what was happening. It took her a few mini-cycles to get back to the volcano, and the heat made her stop and drink water at every opportunity. If nothing else, the expedition should fortify her outdoor adrenaline. It became apparent, quickly, that upon reaching the volcano, she was on to something. Its internal liquid seemed to be alternating colors, on a scale she couldn't really comprehend. What that meant, or why it was doing it, she had no idea. She did the first thing that came to mind, which was peer over the cavernous hole, into the cryptic dealings below. She took one step, and then another. Unfortunately, this proved to be unwise, and she fell into the hole. Like Chuath, she too inexplicably vanished from the only world she'd ever known, and her perception of the journey was that she simply was on Vorith one second, in utter blackness the next, and then a slightly smaller, more primitive world. Ovavi opened her eyes, settled her four legs as best she could, and tried to look around at her surroundings. The heat was unbearable, and she had to run for the nearest cave she could find. This proved arduous, for black-furred beasts nearly as large as she was kept charging after her,and she had to dislodge entire trees to get them to leave her alone. Finally, she was free to lower herself into a cave, and she tried to relax and plan her next move. ### A hush grew over the crowd. Xuma was pacing, irritated, stressed, and anxious. “You mean to tell me Chuath assaulted two guards, one of them is missing, the other dead, and no one can tell me anything about where he is?†The crowd all pretended to know nothing or have anything to do with it. This didn't exactly improve Xuma's mood, so he grabbed a tree trunk cane and shattered it. The crowd twittered nervously, and backed off from him, but still said nothing. “Well, I should think the next step is fairly obvious, everyone. We're going to send a contingent of three groups of five to try to find them. And no one is sleeping tonight until they are. If you're not on a shift, you're on guard duty. Understood? The search party begins, and it begins right now.†Xuma stormed off, collecting the nearest saurs to him, and began the process himself. Others followed suit, and never more have I wished I could speak to my children, to help them in their pursuit, for I knew what was likely to happen. It was the nature of my brother's and my wager: that we'd pit our children against each other, one day, and whichever group won would forever have bragging rights against the other brother. We'd be considered the mightiest planet in the galaxy. But I looked at my children, in their panic, and realized I was not acting in accordance to their wishes. My seas, my lakes, foretold of the coming war. Of the unspeakable atrocities about to be inflicted on both of our offspring, on both of our lands, our atmospheres, our very souls themselves. I unleashed mild seismic spasms in the least inhabited parts of my soil, to try to release some of the stress I felt about the situation. It didn't change anything. I would be responsible for the deaths of millions of my children, and of my brother's children, and it seemed I was the only one who cared. The one mankind calls Earth is often a violent, angry consciousness, and at times gets great joy in causing pain to others. I wanted to try to beat him at his own methodology, to try to teach him that this was not an acceptable way to live. Now all I have left, in spite of my honor, in spite of my dignity, is to be trapped in the headlights of an advancing annihilation. I'm the one who ensared myself into this mess, and all I can do is watch. ### GLOSSARY OF TERMS Emegho: four-legged, long-necked Vorithian caste. Caelud: clawed, smaller, raptor predator caste. Omada: A death-ceremony where the elderly, weak, or convicted-of-treason members of Vorithian society are given to one of the carnivorous castes, and ritually eaten.Annulhi: the deceased Vorithians, or what we'd call ancestors. | |||
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