The Rats Come To Loki

For some reason, humanity abandoned all its plans for Loki, and never again turned their eyes towards the planet. Perhaps some great disaster befell the species, or perhaps the machinations of fate and economy forced them away. For whatever reason, no living Homo sapiens set foot on Loki ever again.

The last human contact on this green world was a spaceship, shooting ablaze through the blue skies. It hit the ground at a low angle, skimming like a stone and scouring a burning wound across the rolling meadows with a thunderous roar. With a scream of contorted metal the great machine finally ground to a halt, half-buried within the rich soil, now silent save the crackle of flames.

None of the human crew survived the impact, yet there were survivors in the crash. From amidst the twisted wreckage emerged a twitching nose, followed by the gleam of shining eyes. The first brave soul poked its head out, sniffing pure air mixed with acrid smoke, and slowly- cautiously- crept out of the mangled darkness.

It was a rat.

For thousand upon thousands of years rats had scurried alongside mankind. Clever, resourceful and sociable- just like humanity itself- they had long been Man’s shadow. They had climbed aboard their sailing ships and caravans, spreading across the Earth and living where they lived, in the walls and under their feet. So it came as no surprise that when Man finally travelled to the stars their little shadows followed them.

From the wreckage came another rat, then another, then another. The survivors of the crash clambered from their destroyed home, blinking with dark eyes at the bright sunlight. They tensed, instinctively listening and sniffing for any threat: a hawk, a fox, a human. But there was none, for they were now the largest land animals on the planet, the only vertebrate to walk under its sun and breathe in the crisp air.

The number of rats began to swell as more survivors pulled themselves clear, instinctively grouping together with others of their kind. They knew they had to leave this smouldering shell they once called home, but this new place was strange, alien. They had been born in the stars and had never set foot on solid ground before, never felt the dirt under their paws, nor heard the wind as it sang through the waving grass.

But they still had their instincts, ingrained in every fibre of their being from countless millions of generations before them. Slowly, cautiously, they moved forward, senses overwhelmed by the wonderful strange smells and sounds of their new home. In pairs, trios, groups, they began to spread out into this brave new world.

The rats had come to Loki.