Chapter
1
The giant sea monster
rose from the frozen depths of the southern ice pack on the planet of Corydon.
He was a terribly huge, slimy, black, octopus-squid-like creature, extremely
angry at being disturbed from his thousand-year hibernation. By his reckoning,
he should have been sleeping for at least another one hundred and sixty years.
He didn't like being
disturbed and the fact that the reckless beings populating the surface of the
planet had somehow managed to raise the temperature to a point where the
deepest and coldest ice had turned to slush, infuriated him. However, what
really sent him over the edge was the realization that while he was sleeping
they had sent sharp steel tentacles miles down into his innermost cavern—in
search of who knows what, he didn't have a clue, nor did he care.
This
will not stand.
He turned towards the
light blue world above him, constricted violently and raced through the liquid
ocean he called home.
"I'll annihilate
them," he roared in an ancient language not been heard on Corydon for
centuries.
He propelled his
massive body through the cold water. His fury increased in proportion to his
speed. The logical part of his huge brain told him to slow before he reached
the ice sheet that covered his water world—I
don't want to make the same mistake
twice. Yet, his emotions sent him forward even faster.
He sent rhythmic blasts
of sonar upwards to the surface expecting to receive images of a layer of ice
several meters thick. This information would allow him to calculate his inertia
and come to a halt a safe distance before the fragile shell that separated his
liquid home from the inhospitable environment above. Instead, the echoes that
returned were weak and poorly detailed. Only with careful analysis was he able
to determine that the frozen barrier that had once surrounded the planet was
gone.
Then he realized that
he was going too fast. He had gone too far. It was too late. He broke through
the surface of the frigid southern water like a meteor smashing through a gas
giant.
The lack of friction
and the sudden feeling of near weightlessness as he ascended into the thin
cloud-filled atmosphere surprised him. He stretched his sixteen massive
tentacles in all directions, grabbing for any hold that he could find. There was
none, he was airborne. His seven eyes blinked and squinted in the bright
sunshine of the two nearby suns. The rays burned his heat sensitive skin even
though they originated 500 million miles away. He was too angry to feel the
pain. The smoke from his burning flesh smelled rancid, but above that, the smell
of lush vegetation, nitrogen, methane, and carbon dioxide flooded his gills—This is not the world I remember.
For countless
millennia, his species had dominated the ice-encased world of Corydon. Even
from the beginning, when his family was born from amoeba like microbes, they had
ruled unopposed. They had evolved at a steady, but careful, natural pace, underneath
the frozen surface of the planet. Unlike many intelligent species on other
warmer planets, the Corydonians were in no rush. The cold nature of their world
allowed them to evolve slowly and gradually. Over the millennia, they grew
physically and intellectually enormous. There was no hurry towards a solution,
a better future, or a final conclusion—evolution was on their side, they were
perfectly suited to their perfectly balanced world.
The Corydonians, as
they later named themselves, had enjoyed an unlimited supply of everything they
needed to thrive. Algae trapped in the ice crust constantly regenerated the levels
of pure oxygen in the planetary sea. Their gills, lungs, and overall physiology,
efficiently metabolized the life-giving chemical. Breathing was never labored, oxygen
was abundant. Food was plentiful. They fed, competition free, on the smaller
warm and cold-blooded organisms that inhabited their liquid domain. They grew
to gigantic size, unimpeded by disease, famine, or war. Their civilization also
thrived. They created a society based on shared learning and cooperation. There
was no need for competition, governance or exploration. They were social, but
remained solitary.
As the average Corydonian's
dimensions expanded and the population bloomed, they developed a society based
on one-thousand year cycles. Adults voluntarily adopted these cycles in order
to keep the balance between the resources available on the planet and the
stress created by the requirements of their huge size and appetite—half the
population hibernated while the other half patrolled the seas. This agreed upon
norm meant that they spent the majority of their life alone, but they were
never lonely. Their powers of telepathy allowed each member of the species to
stay intimately connected without coming within hundreds of miles of each other.
Only the very young stayed physically close to their parents, and then only
until they were adolescents.
The average Corydonian
lived to be around 180,000 years old. A Corydonian year lasted one cycle around
both of its yellow suns—this is about three times longer than the typical Earth
year. Time passed slowly for the giants. Females reproduced only once during
their lifetime. These factors kept the population in check and the planet in
balance. They were at peace with nature and themselves. They were satisfied
with their cold liquid world and their place in the universe.
That was then, during
the apex of their evolution, before the Giants of Corydon made the fateful
decision to break through the frozen layer of ice surrounding their world.
It
was an accident, really.
As he floated
unanchored through space, bit and pieces of the ancient memory flashed through
his mind. It had happened long ago...
As a young Corydonian,
less than 20,000 years old, he knew from the teachings of his parents that
there was a thin inhospitable atmosphere above the ice. He had been taught that
their planet was one of several in their solar system, circling two giant suns,
and that an infinitely large and complex universe held everything in place. The
Corydonians understood that they were not alone in the cosmos, but they had no
need to venture beyond their borders. They were content to stay isolated in
their small corner of the universe. He absorbed the lessons from his parents
with enthusiasm. He listened carefully and obeyed.
Nevertheless, a
combination of boredom and curiosity, both byproducts of superior intelligence
and thousands of years of a peaceful mundane way of life, had pushed him to
poke his bulbous head through a meticulously burrowed hole in the planet's icy
crust. He had been hunting new species of algae, but he had gone too close to
the surface. The ice cracked and a great hole opened. He was sucked up into the
atmosphere—that's all he remembered. He had woken up in his father's cavern.
The scolding and lectures, he preferred to forget, but he knew immediately that
the destiny of Corydon had been irrevocably altered.
And
now, here I am again.
The Corydonian giant
opened his mouth wide, fangs dripping with acidic saliva, and gasped as he rushed
through the layer of clouds. His gills kicked into overdrive, straining what
little oxygen was available from the warm mixture of gases. He thrashed about
in the thin atmosphere, trying to make his way back to his liquid home, but he
had gone too far. He had over extended himself. Gravity let go. The vacuum of
space greeted him. Silence surrounded him. The lack of oxygen and the feeling
of weightlessness were vaguely familiar.
There
will be no rescue this time, he thought. I'm the last, they are all gone.
The Giants of Corydon
were no more. Strangely, this realization didn't increase his anger, instead, a
sad calm overcame him. As soon as he had awoken from his hibernation, he knew
that he was the last of his species. When Corydonians were awake, they retained
telepathic connections with every other Corydonian on their planet. Those
connections had been severed. He knew instantly, that they were all dead, that
had fed his unbridled fury.
It
can't be over...
He halfheartedly sent
his thoughts to the planet below, hoping for a response. There was none. The
great Giants of Corydon were extinct. He knew the humanoids were responsible. He
had no idea if they had destroyed his planet, his species, by accident or with
some grand purpose. It didn't matter now. Yet, he wanted to know, he was still curious—that
was his nature even during these last few minutes just before his impending
death.
"The damage is
done," he said to Corydon as he floated further and further away from his
home. He tried to push his thoughts of justice or revenge aside.
"I relinquish you
to the humanoids now."
He stopped thrashing
about. He stopped trying to squeeze the last bit of oxygen from the atmosphere.
He retracted his fangs and relaxed. His superior intelligence took control of
his runaway emotions. He calmly examined his current position and predicament. He
was no longer angry. In fact, he had become somewhat serene.
The clouds parted below
him and with his seven magnificent eyes, he saw new landmasses and cities for
the first time. The alien life that had come to his world just a short time ago,
had been busy. Over the last 850 years, while he had been hibernating, they had
terra-formed most of the planet. Where shiny smooth white ice had once existed,
mountains, valleys, meadows and forests had been born. The great under-surface
seas had been reduced to small lakes and rivers—some contained by huge gray
rock-like structures. The smooth shape of the rock interested him, and the way
that the structures controlled the flow of the water was intriguing. He easily
deduced their purpose, but lacked the human vocabulary to name them.
Massive cities and
sprawling industrial complexes spread across the landmasses. He knew what they
were. He had seen images of them on faraway planets. The Corydonians had studied
the evolution of humanoids for thousands of years, long before the tiny but
aggressive creatures had begun to conquer and explore the galaxies. These stone
and metal zones created the heat that had destroyed his world. He deduced that
the rise in temperature had somehow depleted the planet's ability to produce
enough food and oxygen for his species. Perhaps they had brought some deadly
alien virus with them. He realized that if he had stayed in hibernation, he
would have probably died from lack of oxygen without ever waking up.
"Why
did they come here?" he wondered.
He looked at the city
lights with interest. The light the dwellings emitted reminded him of the
iridescent gems found in the deepest caverns of Corydon. The scene represented
something horribly beautiful and serenely deadly.
"It's beautiful,
isn't it?" a soft chirpy voice said.
The question smashed
through his consciousness. His sonar-based auditory organs picked up the sound
even though he was several miles above the Corydon Sea. His seven eyes broke
wide open. He focused intently on the 360° view within his range of detection, attempting
to confirm that he had really heard a voice. He saw nothing, but suddenly the
shrill, high-pitched voice came to him again.
"I'm glad to see
you've lowered your blood pressure and calmed your nerves," the voice sing-songed.
"Acceptance is good. Do you feel better now?"
He twisted his gigantic
body in all directions, trying to pinpoint the source of the tiny voice. The words
were not Corydonian, but he still understood them without the need for
translation. They were clear and reassuring, meant to add to the serenity of
the moment, and yet he was beginning to become angry again. Thoughts of revenge
flashed through his mind.
It
would feel good to kill something, he thought.
"Oh no, that won't
do at all," the crystal sounding voice said. Please, just relax.
The alto register and
the confident nature of the voice aggravated him. The interruption and
insertion directly into his thoughts was irritating. The intrusion into his
personal space was unheard of. He refused to engage in conversation until he
knew to whom he was talking.
Corydonians were
capable of great power and destruction, but they were generally very polite.
Their constant telepathic connection with each other required careful social
etiquette and a sophisticated set of cultural norms. They never interrupted each
other's thoughts without permission, and they took great care to respect the
boundaries of family groups. Social status, earned through experience and
seniority, was carefully considered before communication was initiated. These
customs and behaviors guided their interaction and created the foundation for
all relationships.
These
useless comments are not welcome, especially during these final minutes,
he thought. "YOU, whoever you
are... I prefer to spend these last moments remembering, rather than creating
anything new," he said.
"Remembering is
good," the voice said. "I apologize for not introducing myself
earlier. Please call me Scarlett. I am a Red and White Banded Cleaner Shrimp, a
crustacean from the family Hippolytidae.
My scientific name is Lysmata amboinensis.
My relatives are commonly found on planets with warm oceans and coral
reefs."
He felt the voice, as
well as heard it. It came from somewhere nearby, but vibrated throughout his
inner brain. He sensed that the voice originated from someone or something that
had attributes similar to the telepathic abilities of his species, but it was unlike
anything he had experienced before. The voice, the words and the meaning played
in his head, but the evolutionary connection was not there. This was an
intrusive voice coming to him through very different channels.
"I'm over here,
just in front of your central eye," the voice said.
The Corydonian giant
turned his attention to his seventh eye in the middle of his massive, oblong
shaped head just above his gaping mouth. A tiny bright light blinked barely out
of reach of his longest tentacle. He focused on it. The light dimmed and the
metallic silver skin of a coconut-sized starship revealed itself. He had never
seen a coconut, nor a starship for that matter, but the words and concepts
magically defined themselves as soon as they appeared in the language center of
his brain.
"WHO ARE YOU?"
he boomed in his deep bass voice.
"I'm Scarlett, a
crustacean. My scientific name is..."
"I know that
already," he interrupted. Who are you?
A miniscule hatch
hummed open on the top of the vessel and an unbelievably insignificant lobster-like
creature exited and floated just above the starship. He couldn't believe how
infinitesimally small the organism was, yet, he could see that it had a
strangely powerful aura surrounding it. The aura stretched and flexed as it
kept the creature connected to the starship.
The Corydonian
considered devouring the fleck of speaking debris in front of him, but the space
vehicle was so minute that only a swarm of millions would make a decent
mouthful, and the alien being talking to him was ten times smaller than that.
It was barely visible, and only then because of his great powers of
concentration and focus. Under normal circumstances, the tiny speck would be flushed
through his gills without notice. It wasn't even big enough to require a
thought, or a cleansing sneeze.
"I am Scarlett, a
curator for the Intergalactic Zoological Preservation Society. I'm here to
preserve you."
Images of creatures and
organs floating in large jars of formaldehyde passed through his mind—once
again he had never seen these things, but as they appeared in his mind, they
were instantly recognized, defined and understood. He suspected that the
alien's remarkable communication abilities had something to do with it. This
was more than a telepathic connection.
"Preservation does
not appeal to me," he blasted, intentionally sending acidic saliva, pieces
of food and fermented odors from deep within his multi-chambered bowels towards
the tiny shrimp.
"Oh, I'm sorry for
that image," Scarlett said, waving off the moist saliva and bits of
undigested food the Corydonian giant had spit her way. "I deserve that..."
Preserve, is the wrong word, perhaps
rescue, save, relocate or protect, would be better, she finished her
thoughts telepathically.
Immediately, a new
image appeared in the giant's brain. It was a beautiful ice-world similar to
Corydon, but much larger. The temperature was perfect, the ice silent and
solid, the liquid underneath full of pure oxygen, microorganisms, algae, and
fatty nutritious foods. Other creatures similar to him were socializing and
playing in the oceans, some were hibernating in caverns deep within the planet.
"I see what you're
doing," he said glaring at the mostly light brown, but delicately red and white
banded shrimp. "They are not Corydonians, and even if they were, the
planet you are projecting is a million light years away. How would I get there?
Corydonians don't travel beyond the seas of Corydon. We never even broke
through the surface ice until 60,000 years ago."
"Corley, may I
call you by your given name?" Scarlett asked. "I can help you. I can
take you to the Intergalactic Zoological Preservation Society's galaxy, where
you can live comfortably for many more millennia. There may even be a chance to
revive the Corydonian species."
"How do you know
my name? Leave me alone," Corley exploded. "How dare you presume to
know me well enough to use the name my mother gave me? I think I shall crush
you, and then die peacefully without the shrill noise of your voice penetrating
my thoughts."
Perhaps
a demonstration is in order...
Scarlett retreated into
her starship. Seconds later, a clear bubble emerged from the back of the
starship and began to expand. It grew rapidly and began to engulf the
Corydonian giant.
Corley tried to flee,
but he could get no traction in the thin atmosphere. He panicked. He struck out
at the clear film with his tentacles and bit down on it with his sharp fangs.
He spewed acid at the transparent cloud coming towards him. Nothing stopped it.
It kept growing, stretching through and around him. His massive power had no
effect on the bubble. He became tired because of the lack of oxygen. He knew
that if he kept struggling, he would eventually pass out and die. Resistance
was futile. He gave up and let the shrimp have its way.
"Scarlett, if that
is your real name," Corley gasped. "I curse you for disturbing the
last few minutes of my life."
The bubble engulfed
him. Suddenly, pure oxygen surrounded him. He drank the life-giving chemical
deep into his lungs. Liquid encased him. He felt cool and comfortable inside
the transparent walls. It was large enough to hold him, and big enough for him
to swim freely about. He swam for the edges, and they flexed before him. He
sliced at the outer boundaries with his tentacles, and the clear bubble
stretched, expanded and contracted with his efforts, never breaking. He was
trapped, but he had been saved. He was alive. He was confused, angry, sad,
dismayed and amazed. He stopped struggling and waited patiently. There was
nothing more to do.
"Corley?"
Scarlett asked, lowering her voice an octave.
"Yes,
Scarlett."
Do
you believe me now? She asked with her thoughts only.
"I can't believe
you anymore than I can believe that my species have perished and my planet has
been destroyed. Let me die."
"I can do that,
but that would seem to be a waste of effort. We saved you once so that this
moment could come to pass. Letting you die now would be a colossal squandering
of time and energy."
"Are you
suggesting that it was you who rescued me more than 156,000 years ago?"
"Suggestion,
statement, fact... call it what you want. I'm not ready to let you die at this
moment," but I am willing to give you a choice.
"May I devour you
and then float peacefully into deep space?" Corley grinned, showing his
fangs, hoping that was one of the choices.
"No, of course not—and
please don't make that horrible face," Scarlett said.
He grimaced in
response.
"You can come with
me to the ice planet in the IZPS Galaxy and live a long comfortable life, or I
can bring you back down to the seas of Corydon, where you will eventually die
from starvation and heat exposure."
The
choice isn't really mine, he thought.
Yes,
it really is your choice, Scarlett replied.
No comments:
Post a Comment