by S. H. Jucha
The mining outposts abandoned their domes for the relative safety of their vast underground lairs deep in the moons, where materials were harvested.
Across the planet, Crocia prepared to repel the invaders. The population had a unique circumstance in their favor. As Harbour and Jessie had learned centuries ago from the Norloth, no one visited Crocia who didn’t have to go there. The planet teemed with predators that flew, crawled, ran, and swam.
Crocian buildings were built to prevent aggressive species from entering. Air vents were heavily fortified and filtered. Windows were built with the same material used in the stations’ view ports. Exterior doors opened into chambers and must be closed before the interior doors could be accessed.
Transport vehicles entered underground runs and utilized the same sort of double-door gaps before coming to a rest within the building. Crocians lived much of their lives traveling from building to building in protected vehicles.
The planet’s hostile fauna was the reason so many Crocians studied advanced engineering disciplines. These professions were in great demand throughout the alliance, which allowed qualified Crocians to live much of their working life in space and on other worlds.
There was another asset possessed by the general population. Every planetside Crocian past eight annuals of age was armed. Theirs weren’t Loopah weapons, such as those carried aboard stations or within the dome. They wielded energy weapons.
Six days after the wedge of ships entered the Crocian system, the Norloth received an answer as to the fleet’s intentions.
A super-cargo freighter was forced to shut down its engines to make emergency repairs. The engineers would complete the work within four cycles. However, that left the freighter drifting toward the path of the oncoming wedge.
In the vastness of space, the wedge and the freighter might have been considered a near miss. Three-hundred-eighty-thousand kilometers separated the closest two ships. The drifting freighter shouldn’t have been considered a threat to the incoming fleet, but apparently that wasn’t the case.
“The nearest station to the incident reports the launch of several tubular objects from the wedge’s lead ship,” Denthra read to the other members of the triumvirate. “Two of the objects struck the freighter, and it was obliterated. Afterwards, the remaining object either detonated on its own or was commanded to do so.”
‘Missiles,” Mantoth said, gnashing his teeth. It was a primitive reaction ... the need to bite an aggressor and render it apart.
“Do you think they mean to launch these missiles at our planet?” Hangar asked.
“You’re asking questions without thinking,” Mantoth remonstrated.
Hangar was the youngest member of the Norloth, having been added after the triumvirate’s leader retired to Crocia to begin the final cycle of his life. He had a habit of questioning his seniors before considering the facts and determining his own opinions.
“If you’d traveled between the stars, what would you be seeking?” Mangoth asked Hangar.
“If I were running from a foe, I’d be seeking shelter or allies ... maybe both,” Hangar replied.
“Have they tried to communicate with us?” Mantoth asked.
“We’ve detected no broadcast signals directed our way,” Hangar pointed out.
“What would be another reason for their arrival?” Mantoth pressed.
“They’re seeking new worlds,” Hangar supplied, “which means they want to preserve our planet not destroy it.” With Mangoth’s prompting, he’d discovered the answer to his question, and, at the same time, he’d learned a valuable lesson.
“Now, we know where we stand,” Denthra said. “These ships are designed to fight, to wage war.”
“More than likely, they were built to fight other similarly constructed ships,” Mantoth surmised.
“That’s in our favor,” Denthra mused. “The entities aboard those ships aren’t prepared to use their extensive capabilities against a planet they want to settle.”
“Then they’d have to land shuttles,” Hangar offered.
“Yes, but where, how many, and with what type of weapons?” Mantoth queried.
“We have the numbers,” Denthra said. “It might cost our population, but I think we’d retain control of our planet.”
“That’s if they don’t exact a measure of revenge after we evict them,” Mantoth said. “In their anger and suffering significant losses, they might destroy our cities, stations, and the dome with their weapons, as they exit the system.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Denthra stated clearly. “With the destruction of our freighter, they’ve made their intentions clear. The only question that remains is whether we leave our homes to meet them after they land or wait until they come for us.”
“Maybe fortune would gift us, and these strangers will land in the wetlands,” Hangar said wistfully.
Denthra and Mantoth eyed their new member, while they considered his remark. Then they rumbled in pleasure at the prospect.
* * * * *
“Preliminary telemetry indicates the planet has potential,” a bridge officer reported.
“Excellent,” Expedition Leader Stasnich replied. His short-furred, long, thin tail rose, and he preened in anticipation.
“No response to the elimination of the freighter,” the first mate reported. “We’ve spotted no warships in the system. Nor have we recorded the launch of missiles.”
“Could our conquest of the planet be that easy?” Fleet Commander Daminich mused. He sucked on the rows of wickedly sharp teeth that protruded from his narrow muzzle.
The Packeoes were a federacy race that had overpopulated their home world. Being freed from Artifice’s domination, the leaders had ordered several fleets to search for new domains outside federacy space.
Packeo was a world covered in lowlands and crisscrossed by slow-moving rivers and streams. A great portion of the planet was wetlands.
Early generations of Packeoes fed along the banks, catching crustaceans, mollusks, fish, and small game.
Their guile, shrewd hunting tactics, and dexterous hands allowed them to swiftly ascend to the top of the planet’s food chain.
Over the course of federacy history, their societal persona served them well. They hid their aggressiveness from other races. At the same time, they built their defenses in the event they were invaded.
Aiding the species’ rise were assets such as incessant mating habits and female fertility. Females were forever bearing new litters, usually birthing six to eight pups twice an annual. Later, these habits became the race’s undoing. It was the primary reason that led to their planet’s overcrowding and reduction of food sources. Packeoes refused to shift to producing their own foods. They relished their planet’s fresh natural bounty.
The Packeoes’ growing dilemma was complicated by their efforts to hide their predatory instincts. When the opportunity presented itself, the leaders chose not to fight for the founding of new colonies. Now, with Artifice deposed, they were desperate to gain more territory.
Stasnich regarded his fleet commander, Daminich. “We might have found the perfect conquest ... a wet world with a submissive race,” he said.
The two leaders sucked their teeth, relishing the opportunity to feed on the planet’s abundant fresh foods.
“Do we maintain course for the planet?” Gregich asked his fleet commander.
Daminich glanced at the leader, Stasnich, who nodded.
“Maintain course,” Daminich said. He heard the bridge crew’s subtle reactions. After this long trip, they were anxious to sample the new offerings.
The Norloth continued to receive reports of the fleet’s approach from multiple sources. The ships never changed course. The entities aboard weren’t interested in the moon, the dome, or Dantagar Station. Eventually, their ships settled in orbit over Crocia.
As expected, the huge ships launched several exploratory shuttles, and the Crocians watched in trepidation for their landing sites.
> Hangar proved prescient. The shuttles landed in the wetlands.
* * * * *
The deep rumbling blasts of shuttle exhausts against rock and soil transmitted throughout the surrounding wetlands, frightening the fauna.
Eight kilometers away from the landing site, reptilian eyes opened, disturbed by the vibrations. The meal that was consumed many cycles ago and provided by an unwary predator was gone. The bones of the sharply fanged tree climber, which had paused at the water’s edge to drink, had been the last parts of the body to be digested.
The reptile’s snout, which barely protruded above the murky waters, rose, and eleven meters of deadly length followed. The muddy bottom of the reed-choked shallows was stirred, and the enormous creature sought the direction of the disturbance.
For kilometers in all directions, this was the reptile’s domain.
Many decades ago, the creature had been Nostara of the Borthar. In his lifetime, the engineer had pioneered many new and more efficient techniques in metal and gas extraction. After living the life of a celebrated individual, he’d retired to Crocia.
As the final life cycle of a Crocian overtook Nostara, he slowly limited contact with family, friends, and associates. Understanding the changes that drove Nostara, those closest to him let him slip away without protest.
The dominant physiological pressure for Nostara was a constant ravenous hunger. The consumption of copious amounts of food triggered hormonal shifts. The resulting changes didn’t happen rapidly but took place over a period of another decade.
Nostara became tempted to wander from the safety of the enclaves into the nearby lowlands. Dangerous though this might be, he couldn’t resist the pull. He’d lay low in the tall grasses and ambush small creatures often consuming six or eight of them in a single outing before his hunger was satiated. However, filling his belly was only part of the reason that he explored. It was the snap of the maw on struggling prey, the cries of the dying, and the taste of warm blood flooding the mouth that fulfilled an ancient urge.
There came a day when Nostara dropped the tunic that covered his now towering four-meter height. He was nearly double the height and three times the mass of when he’d retired. Without a single word to anyone, he left his domicile.
Anticipating the event, other Crocians cleared Nostara’s path, operating the enclave’s gates for him and keeping the young away.
Nostara’s destination was the lowlands. He’d live and hunt there, never returning to the Crocian population.
As Nostara successfully ambushed fauna, his bulk continued to increase, and the final changes occurred that were to rule the remainder of his cycles. The smaller creatures of the lowlands became insufficient to satisfy Nostara’s hunger, and he migrated from the lowlands to the wetlands.
In the wetlands, the competitors were larger and more dangerous, but he required the water to support his growing bulk. If he survived the next decade or two, he would become master of this domain.
The shift in territory accompanied Nostara’s final physiological changes. The head orientation shifted from a right angle to the spine to an inline position. The snout lengthened, and the teeth enlarged. The forelimbs increased in musculature to match the hind limbs. The tail underwent a dramatic change. It lengthened and increased in strength.
The Crocians who’d investigated the manifestations of this late life cycle had developed a theory. They believed a retired Crocian reverted to the species’ original archetype before the Messinants had uplifted the race.
As the physiological changes took place, the psychological one completed the process. Nostara lost the last vestiges of sentience. Once, he had been a vibrant member of the Crocian race. Now, he no longer existed. Instead, a Dorgatha, the feared reptile of the wetlands, inhabited Nostara’s mind.
This Dorgatha, irritated by the disturbance within its domain, slid through the reeds to investigate. To its primitive mind, noise meant food, and it lived for the hunt, the kill, and the consumption.
-22-
Secrets
The traveler that lifted from Pyre rendezvoused with the Rêveur. Olawale led the Omnians and the Pyreans to the bridge. He introduced Ophelia and Aputi to Captain Lumley.
“You’re my first,” Ophelia said charmingly to Francis Lumley. Her gates were wide open. She wanted to sense more first impressions within the visitors’ ranks.
“Your first?” Francis inquired.
“My first starship captain,” Ophelia replied with a smile.
“I’m honored,” Francis replied. “I’ll try to ensure that your first voyage with us is a pleasant one.”
Ophelia noted that the entire bridge crew took her presence in stride. Strangers on their deck were nothing new to them. It wasn’t that they were unfeeling. It was just that her presence and that of the gigantic Aputi didn’t elicit any great interest.
Esteban waited for Ophelia to reveal her special capabilities, but she remained silent. It produced a conundrum for him, which he discussed with the other SADEs. Kasie hadn’t readily admitted her unique skills, and they discussed whether there might be a social stigma attached to being an empath or whether these individuals deliberately hid their powers to read the Omnians and the Earthers without their knowledge.
Sam was late making the bridge for the Pyrean introductions to the captain. He remained at the rear while they finished.
Olawale intended to escort Ophelia and Aputi on a tour of the liner and take them to their new quarters, but his app locater notified him of Sam’s presence. He turned and directed the commandant’s attention to Sam.
“Let me introduce our security officer, Lieutenant Sam Fleetfoot,” Olawale said.
Sam offered the commandant a salute, which Ophelia returned. However, when Sam faced Aputi, he broke into a grin, which was reciprocated.
The audience stared at the similarity of the two men. That they both had heavy physiques was obvious, but it wasn’t the only likeness. Their skin complexions were close. One had slightly more red to his brown tone. Each had straight black hair. Their eyes were dark, and their cheekbones pronounced.
Instinctively, the two men clasped forearms, and Sam greeted Aputi with, “Brother,” which Aputi solemnly echoed.
Ophelia could sense the deep emotions pouring off the men. Despite being born worlds apart and from lineages separated by a thousand years, the men sensed a deep kindred history.
“Well, if you two aren’t the biggest humans to walk the worlds,” Ophelia said admiringly. Her comment initiated polite subdued laughter from the Omnians and Patrice.
“I’m afraid not,” Sam said to Ophelia. He activated the bridge holo-vid and sent to it a vid from his implant. “Observe,” he said, directing Ophelia’s attention behind her.
The vid played silently for several seconds before it looped.
“Guess which one is Alex Racine, our leader,” Sam said, chuckling.
“This isn’t an optical illusion or something?” Aputi asked, staring at the assembly of two men and two women. Three of them were laughing, and the largest individual wore a lopsided grin.
“Afraid not,” Olawale said. “To give you an idea of scale, the blonde woman in uniform is Fleet Admiral Tatia Tachenko. She’s about your size, Sers.”
“How about the one at the end?” Ophelia asked. “That man appears heavier and bigger than the admiral.”
“He’s Mickey Brandon, the Omnian engineer extraordinaire,” Patrice remarked. “I miss Mickey,” she added wistfully.
“Then the other man must be Alex,” Aputi said. “Wow,” he uttered softly.
“This is the generational effect on a population of a world with heavier gravity than that of Earth,” Olawale explained. “Alex, the man standing between the women, is a slightly special case. He moved space junk with his father during his teenage years.”
“That shouldn’t have any effect on musculature ... not in space,” Aputi objected.
“It wouldn’t,” Olawale allowed, “but New Terra, the pl
anet where these three heavy worlders were born, had a rough start. When Alex’s father landed the shuttle, the space junk was offloaded by hand or a manual winch. Then it was driven to a recycling center where it was wrestled off again.”
Aputi stared at the man, who was grinning. He was an order wider and heavier than either Sam or him. He could imagine he heard the fibers of the man’s garments groaning in protest, as they were stretched beyond integrity.
“Who’s the absolutely beautiful woman hanging on your leader’s arm and laughing?” Ophelia asked. Immediately, she was flooded with emanations of pride interwoven with deep warmth.
“That’s Renée de Guirnon, Alex’s partner and our co-leader,” Olawale replied.
Ophelia noted that the entire bridge crew had halted their work to stare at the imagery. She wondered if the Omnians’ admiration of their leaders was misplaced, homage being paid to leaders who didn’t warrant their people’s respect, or whether the figures in the vid had earned their lofty places by deeds.
“Allow me to play my favorite vid,” Esteban announced. “It was captured on an Omnian beach by a SADE named Miranda.”
While the Omnians grinned and chuckled as the vid played, Ophelia, Aputi, Patrice, and Jess were stunned.
“What is that?” Patrice asked.
“It’s a Swei Swee,” Olawale replied.
“I heard about them, when you were Harakens, but I never saw an image of them,” Patrice replied. “From the descriptions I received I thought they were smaller.”
“These are distant cousins of the first group of Swei Swee we encountered,” Esteban said. “The hives on Omnia had to struggle against ocean and land hunters for their domains. Over the centuries, only the largest and swiftest survived.”
“For those not familiar with them, what are they?” Ophelia asked.
“They’re an aquatic race,” Lucia replied. “In this particular case, the Swei Swee in the vid is Wave Skimmer, the hive’s First.”
“What are they doing?” Aputi asked, as he watched the two figures recede down the beach. They walked side by side. The human was gesturing and looking up at the monstrous six-legged creature that towered over him.
