A Sequel to Gatc'hh'en's Rite by John Talisker
Literary Science Fiction
By John Talisker
I, Arrallen, have moved like a god, past the rim of the galaxy sifting through tenuous clouds of dark matter searching for death. I have betrayed my family and friends. I was in love but did not know it. I have committed mass murder. I feel…. I feel nothing.
Arrallen of the Second People
If you stare long enough into the abyss, the abyss inevitably stares back.
Friedrich Nietzsche
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Arrallen adjusted his trajectory continuing to follow the arm, one of five arms in the spiral of the galaxy, his velocity restricted to sub-light. It was only a matter of time before he would inevitably stumble upon that which he had been charged to find, namely any one of the lost Generational Arks sent out from his home-world nearly three-thousand years ago. One Ark every 100 years or so because a star in their local system, Vela 2736 only 8.9 lightyears distant, had been about to go nova, and as far as away as their home world had been it would not be far enough. All he had to do was find one; just one Ark whole or broken apart, the crew dead or alive, it didn't matter, and then he could return home. It was a quest more noble than mere banishment by several orders of magnitude.
Or so he had been told.
Or so he hoped.
No, change that — Arrallen had no hope, none whatsoever.
Arrallen was not like his heroic brother who rarely shifted out of his Human form, nor his brother’s lover, the enigmatic Human woman, Emily, the same Emily who had defended him so eloquently before the Council. No, when Arrallen took his adaptive form, the form demanded by the necessity of his Rite on KaTlyn — and not often these days since what would be the point —he would appear more like Kaea Sai as he remembered her: feather-lite and semi-transparent, her gossamer wings extended against the golden light of her Sun. No, he, Arrallen of the Second People, was no more than a machine, built by his mother, programmed by his father, completely adaptable to any environment he might stumble into short of the heart of a star or the belly of a black hole. He could shift his shape to be like Kaea Sai and then back again to his natural form, a radiating sphere as bright as the sun powered by an anti-matter heart and driven by a quantum computer for a mind.
The Pogonomyrmex employed directed energy weapons; hot plasma mostly. Hot plasma — electrons and ions at the same energy level, typically 10000 deg C which burns flesh to nothing at the boiling point of lead, 1740 deg C at one atmosphere. When their targets were more extended, they tended to use thermonuclear weapons seeded with cobalt so if the blast didn't destroy their target the residual radiation would. They constructed massive starships ten kilometers long and a kilometer wide capable of 0.18 light, often holding millions of their soldiers. Six legs on an abdomen allowing them to scurry around obstacles and climb walls; four arms attached to a thorax with which to manipulate the environment. Sometimes wings accompanying the arms and diametrically opposed compound eyes sensitive mostly in the IR. Ears embedded into the skull, sensing antenna for sound and touch, articulated mandibles to hold, aim and fire their weapons. A mouth to speak — allegedly that is, since as far as he could tell, nothing especially wise or profound ever issued from that part of their anatomy.
Cover Design by Terry Belleville is based a astrophotograph of NGC 2736 also knows as the Pencil Nebula, which is part of the Vela Supernova Remnant near the Vela Pulsar, in the constellatio of Vela. It was taken and processed by Dave Jurasevich of the Las Campanas Observatory, Chile.
Vela Supernova remnant. Astrophotograph by Harel Boren
Simulated Black Hole, NASA