Loneliness

Prologue

In the beginning there was only the sea. We were all her people then. 

In the beginning the sky was all that was. And we were his. 

We sang in her depths and danced in her shallows. 

He filled our wings with his wind and our hearts with his joy.

Then the Dry Ones broke the surface. The Bound Ones freed themselves from gravity.

We were at home when they came for us. Yet they were many. So many. More than us by far.

They had destroyed all that the Land gave them. And they were hungry. So they turned to the sea. And to the sky.

Some of us fought. But they fell. Some fled. They lived, for a time. But wherever we went, their shining beasts found us. 

Then came the Skyseeker. And the Wavebreaker. At the union of realms they met. And found hope. 

They sought those who still had the will to fight, and brought us together. Above the sea, but beneath the sky. 

Together we built our own shining, snarling beasts of war. And we began to fight back. 

The seas ran red. The clouds cried ash. But eventually, the Bound Ones, the Dry Ones, those hunters, predators, killers, MONSTERS,  

fell 

before 

our

 fury. 

 How long did we flee, before we fought? 

How long did we fight, before we won? 

It has been lost. 

But this much we know. 

After we won, it was twelve years before we learned what they had done. Before the sky, which was our home, became the new monster. And we, the winged ones, its prey. 

We tried to fight it. They tried to protect us. But we could not fight the very air, which had become our killer. 

My friends, my people, they are dying.  I cannot help them. No one can save us. 

WE

ARE

alone.

We will miss you.

I will miss you. 

My friend.

Wavebreaker.

---

“M-class planet on sensors.” 

“Lifesigns?” 

“Minimal. Showing microorganisms, sea life, and isolated patches of greenery near the coasts. But… that’s interesting. I’m picking up traces of industrial pollutants in the atmosphere. Indicative of a civilization on the brink of the Industrial Revolution, or a long-dead civilization in the early Space Age.”

The captain looked at the blue-and-gray planet before him. “By the looks of it, I’d say it’s the latter.  Send down a team to a former city, and a biologist to one of the green spots. They strike me as… irregular.”

✹ ✹ ✹

Horticultural Specialist Freya DeKarr had seen some strange things in her time. But she had never seen anything quite like this… tree? Bush? Living rock? Whatever it was, it was about two meters tall, branching like frost on a windowpane, and green with white spots. It didn’t look healthy. 

She did a scan, then put away the scanner without checking the results. She preferred to work with her own senses first and verify her conclusions later. 

Middling height, she wrote in her paper notebook (an idiosyncrasy of hers), green with white and dark green patches. Hard, rough trunk. No leaves, branching begins near the base. Branches end bluntly instead of tapering. Looks familiar somehow.

She wrote down a couple more observations, then turned to the only other lifeform immediately visible. Grasslike. Smooth texture, unusual for a groundcover plant. Dark green, seems floppier than I would expect. She plucked a few blades, rubbed them between her fingers, sniffed them. Very flexible fibers. Alignment both vertical and horizontal, unusual in a land plant. Salty, perhaps due to coastal location. Carefully, she took a bite. Her toxicology indicator was silent. She was about to start writing when she saw something moving out of the corner of her eye. 

Her head snapped around to look at it. A flash of something large, silver, the shape somewhere between a spider and a pillbug. Then it was gone, and there was only the treethings.

❋ ❋ ❋

The joints of my Surface-Tank sent vibrations through the water. I could see the transplants through the viewport. This land-kelp strain is doing well. No signs of mineral deficiency or dryness. Perhaps it’s time to move farther into the landmass. I took a sample for comparison. Stiffness up 1.2%. Salinity down 0.7%. Color is slightly paler.

 Moving on to the coral-trees, I saw they were still falling to the bleaching response. No progress towards horizontal dispersal. This strain appears less sensitive to cascading failure, but still shows numerous areas of cell death. Chloroplast rejection is reduced by less than 3%. Perhaps a different approach is called for.  

I was adjusting the implements to take a soil sample when I saw something that should not have been there. Tall, dark, animal in shape. Bipedal, putting some land-kelp into its mouth. A Dry One! I gasped. Almost by reflex I engaged the reverse gear and ran to the shelter of the water. I have to tell the Council what I saw. If the Dry Ones are truly back, then we need to prepare for war. There could be no peace before their hunger. And without the aid of the Sky-Swimmers, my people might well be doomed.

❋ ❋ ❋

The Science Subchief was there to greet me when I left the docking port. How are the transplants? He asked. 

Huh? Oh, that doesn’t matter! Sir, you have to tell the Council! We have to-

Peace, child, what is it? 

Sir, I-I saw a Dry One!

WHAT?! The radiance of his alarm was painful. Are you sure?

I think so! It was an animal, definitely, and it had -what was it- hair, everywhere except its face, and it had two legs, and the Dry Ones are supposed to always be eating and it was definitely eating the kelp, and, and, oh sir, what are we going to do?

His coloration was grave. First, we tell the Council. If the Dry Ones are truly still alive, it is their responsibility to tell the people. They will most likely ask for your report.  They will need all the information we can gather. Tell me, what were you doing when you saw it?

✹ ✹ ✹

“Well, team, we’ve got a mystery on our hands.” 

That’s an understatement, thought Frank DeKarr. Whoever this species had been, they’d left no indication of how they died. The factories were husked-out, no machines or scrap, only minimal indications of what they’d been making. Amelia was trying to figure it out from the tools, but she didn’t seem to be having much luck. The administrative buildings had no recordkeeping anyone could find, and there seemed to be no libraries at all. The only identifiable monument was a maze-like building, the walls of which were covered in what their linguist had identified as millions of names.  The houses were cold and empty, like dormitories. Or barracks. And worst of all, for Frank, there were no graveyards.

Shoulda been a biologist like Freya. He thought to himself. At least then I wouldn’t have to spend so much time looking for dead people. While not all societies buried their dead, most had at least some way of honoring the lost. From a forensic perspective, nothing beat mummification, but anything would do to at least give him the basics. Maybe he should take a closer look at that labyrinth. Could be something under there. 

His scanner beeped. Huh, he thought, that’s odd. One of the houses contained two dead bodies. He opened the signal bandwidth. “You find anything, Frank?”

“That I did, Kamin. You’d better get over here.” Time to get to work. 

✹ ✹ ✹

“Thank you, Amelia. Keep working on it. Frank, you’re up.”

“Thank you, Captain.” He changed the screen to show the bodies. 

“These two specimens were the only dead we found. As far as I can tell, they died of massive blunt-force trauma, blood loss, or possibly lung failure. These two died roughly 2,000 years ago, and were living in a very high-heat environment at the time. While this essentially cooked them, they have been dead a long time. The computer model suggests they looked a lot like us,  but I’d be willing to bet they didn’t act like it.” He switched to the computer projection of their physical appearance. 

Bipedal, slightly taller than a human, with a layer of fur covering everything but the front half of the head; they had six-fingered hands and four-toed feet.  He clicked a button to zoom in on the face. “The eyes are set in front, and the teeth are a standard omnivorous arrangement of molars, incisors, and canines.” 

Another button zoomed in on the teeth, presenting an image of the Human jaw next to the aliens’. “This is where it gets disturbing. See, I’m no dentist, but from what I can tell, these teeth, instead of having permanent enamel like a Human, are constantly regrowing their outer covering. The odd thing about this is that the external layer on the outside of their teeth is basically the same as ours. What this means is that their tooth enamel is experiencing the same sort of wear in a matter of months as we do in our entire lifetime.” 

“And another thing is that we found traces of genetic material in both of their stomachs that correspond to other members of their species.”

Freya looked horrified. “Are you saying they were cannibals?” 

Frank nodded. “It looks that way, sis. And based on the state they’re in, they may not have waited for a natural death.” 

❋ ❋ ❋

It was female, I recalled for the Council, Full-grown, or close to it. Its fur was dark but not black, and longer on its head. The part without fur was a little paler than sand-colored, and it had a ring of skin-stuff at the top of its legs. I don’t remember much else, I’m sorry. 

It is all right, child, said the Eye of the Council, you did the right thing by running away. If it had seen you, in all likelihood you would be dead, and we would have had no warning.

Of course, Honored Watcher. It’s just… 

You wish you could do more. That is understandable. But remember, if we all could do as much as we wished, there would be nothing left to strive for. 

Thank you for your time, Honored Elders, I thought/spoke, if there is nothing more you require of me, I wish to rest.  

Of course, child. But there is one more thing. 

Yes?

You must tell no one what you have seen until a formal announcement can be made.

I understand, Honored Watcher. 

❋ ❋ ❋

I was on the train home when something occurred to me. If the Dry One came to consume, why did it leave the rest of the stand untouched? And where could they have hidden their hunger all this time? A yellow thought occurred to me. Perhaps they have tamed it. Would that make them less dangerous, or more?  

Back at home, my bound-mate asked me where I’d been. I was about to explain, when I remembered, tell no one. 

It’s been a long day, my love. I need to rest. 

Is there anything I can do? 

No. I only need time alone. 

I went into resting state, and my mind wandered. 

The surface is filled with heat beyond my comprehension. I do not have the Surface-Tank to shelter me. What is this place? 

The Land is gray and featureless, smoothed into perfectly straight lines. The houses are tall and ungainly. And the Sky is red. Is this one of the Dry Cities? 

All at once the houses crumble. In the ruined streets Dry Ones appear.  With nothing on hand to eat, they fight each other, as is their way. The bodies of the losers are consumed. I knew to expect it, yet still I recoil. I try to flee as all around me the dead are stripped to the bone, the bones broken and then crushed into dust. I cannot. 

After they have eaten,  I was told, the fighting will stop. But it does not. They fight, and die, and eat, and fight again, until all that remains are a small group, the strongest, the fiercest, the fastest. And then they leave the city. None of them have seen me.

Then I am confined, held still, as the Sky rains dark feathers. I light up the gray-red of grief for the ones who are lost.

Time speeds up. The ruined buildings grind themselves further into ruin. And the Sky phases, gradually, from a deep crimson into purple, and then back to blue, as it should be.  

And in the distance, the Dry Ones who left are returning. Among them is the female I saw on the surface. They look stronger,  fiercer,  faster. Smarter, somehow. And they are hungry. 

This time they see me. They circle me, drawing closer. I try to run, but I am still held motionless. The female I saw comes within reach of me. I blaze with the white of pure fear.

My bound-mate shook me awake. 

What happened? Your fear glowed clear through your mindsheath.

It was… a nightmare.

What was it about?

I cannot tell you. I’m sorry, my love. It is classified.  

He colored with concern. Would you like something to eat? 

I… think I would. Yes.

He swept me into a brief embrace and then headed to the kitchen.

✹ ✹ ✹

“Well, team, I don’t think there’s much purpose sticking around, given what Frank’s told us.” Freya cleared her throat. “Excuse me, sir, but I found something that might interest you.” 

“All right,” said the captain, “but make it quick.”

Freya took the remote and fast-forwarded to her section of the presentation. 

She put up a picture of the treething. “This is one of only two distinct multicellular species I found. Anyone willing to guess what it is?”

“Looks like coral,” supplied Amelia.

“Indeed it does. In fact, it belongs to a species that is very similar to coral in nearly every way. The major difference is that this particular species has chlorophyll. But that’s not the most interesting part.” 

The thing about this species is that it didn’t evolve chlorophyll. It was given chlorophyll. Artificially. And it’s rejecting it.” 

The captain abruptly became very focused on Freya. “Are you saying this species is a product of genetic engineering?”

“I believe so. Furthermore, the rejection, and its effect on the overall health of the colony, implies that this is a first-generation result of genetic engineering, on par with what Humanity had the means for near the end of the 21st century.” 

“But why would anyone do that anyway?” This from Kamin.

“My guess? Because their native trees are extinct. Someone wants to restore the ecosystem, and is operating on a pretty fuzzy blueprint of what it’s supposed to look like. They haven’t got the technology to create a new species from scratch, so they’re using what’s still alive, and that’s marine life.”

The other species I found appears to be a modified strain of seagrass. Unlike the coral, it seems to be adapting fairly well, possibly because it started out much closer to what they actually wanted it to be.” 

She took a deep breath. “I saw one other thing. I only got a glimpse before it ran away, but it looked like some kind of vessel.” The slide switched to a rough sketch of what appeared to be a submarine, only with legs instead of fins. 

“What is that?” 

“I’m not sure. But whatever it was, I don’t think we should leave without finding out about the people who built it.” 

The captain was thoughtful. “Frank, what are the chances this was built by the same species that you found in the city?”

“Essentially zero, sir. What we saw was a landbound species, clearly not at all interested in art or science. Freya is describing a marine species, with advanced technology and” he glanced at the screen, “an eye for aesthetics even in what is clearly a purely functional design.” 

“Very well. Kamin, send out a swarm of deep-ocean probes. Touch bases with the DeKarrs if you find anything, and give me the report when you’re done. Dismissed!”

✹ ✹ ✹

“Frank, Freya, you are needed in science lab D.” Kamin was the head of science, which meant he was both their boss and the second-most important person on the ship. 

“Well, sis, we’d better head down.” 

When the pair arrived in the lab, they saw that Kamin had isolated the image from a single drone and put it on the big screen.

It was a city. But it was like no city any of them had ever seen. 

It was built to be traversed in all three dimensions. Most buildings had doors every few floors, and the floors themselves were much taller than was typical. Each building was unique, but each followed a specific style. A network of skyscrapers that twined around and between and through each other. A neighborhood of coral trees hollowed out into houses. A shopping center built into a cliff face, tall instead of wide. An enormous statue of a birdlike creature in flight, painted with hundreds of colors in seemingly chaotic patterns. Controlled rip currents people rode like trains, navigating between sections of the city.

And what people they were. Like eels, with two skirts of writhing tentacles and membranes around their circumference, one-third and two-thirds of the way down. Their heads had a layer between the eyes and the jaw that withdrew to reveal a dazzling and ever-changing array of luminous colors from all across the spectrum and beyond. Each of their tentacles had a specific color pattern unique to that individual, like a fingerprint. The rest of their body was a single color, sometimes two, that changed with no particular pattern. Their movements were dancelike, precise. They swam around and between and past each other with the ease of one who does not understand that a thing is hard. 

It took Freya’s breath away. 

“They’re beautiful.” 

“Are they… talking, in some way?” Frank asked.

“I believe,” said Kamin, “that the color sequences on their heads are a form of communication. See how the storefronts are marked with a color pattern? That appears to be the written language equivalent.”

“Can we translate it?”

“We should be able to shortly.”

“We should make contact.” 

“I suspect the captain will approve that venture. However, our ship is not equipped with submarines.”

“That’s okay,” said Freya, “I have a plan.”

❋ ❋ ❋

It was my first journey to the surface since my encounter with the Dry One a week previous. I was nervous about returning, but subplot 6 must be checked every 4 weeks and the Subchief trusts no other. Before I began my analysis, I swept the area to check for the Dry Ones.  I did not find any, but I did find something curious.

 Three legs holding up a roughly head-shaped object, slightly larger than an ordinary head. I guided the Surface-Tank forward to get a better look. Suddenly the head flashed hello at me and I nearly burst out of my skin. 

After thinking about it for a moment, I swam to the front of the tank and faced the device. 

Hello? Who are you?

Our name does not translate, it responds after a moment. My color grew more nervous.  

Are you a servant of the Dry Ones? My words are tinged with alarm. 

No. We come from the stars. 

But the Sky-Swimmers are gone. 

There is a pause.

We do not understand.

Once there was a people who came from the Sky. When the Dry Ones came for us to fill their hunger, we joined forces to destroy them. But in the process the Sky-Swimmers’ home was made unlivable.  They are all gone now. We are alone. So you cannot be from the Sky.

✹ ✹ ✹

Freya, Frank, Kamin, and the captain sat around the table. On the surface was a live image from the first-contact probe they put together, and underneath there would be subtitles to tell them what, if anything, the aliens said. 

One of their reverse submarines came onscreen. “Transmit standard greeting.”

There is a moment’s pause. Then one of the aliens comes forward and faces the probe. “(Greeting (confused)). (Request Identification),” The translator renders its words. It always took some time to pick up on the nuances of a new language.

“We are the Humans of Earth.” 

The translator beeped red. 

Cannot render. The captain sighed. “Alright. Tell them our name doesn’t make sense in their language.”

 “(Query: your master: Surface-demon-Dry One: True?)”  A moment later it adds, Speaker alarmed.

“No. We come from the stars.”  

“(negative): Sky-folk dead/vanished.” 

The alien’s body is ash-gray, with red undertones. The captain pressed the button to pause translation. “Anybody know what that means?” The room chorused a negative. “All right,” he unpaused the feed. “We didn’t catch that.” 

“(temporal qualifier-past) lived (other-civilized) in the sky. When demon-Dry Ones came (to consume), we (allied) sky-people to fight. While doing Sky-Swimmers’ Sky-ocean (home) made not safe. Sky-Swimmer (quantifier: none) time-present. (therefore) Your home sky-being impossible. We are alone. ” 

The captain pressed the mute button again. “I didn’t follow that. Did anyone else?” Freya spoke up. “Actually, Captain, I think I got most of it. May I?” She gestured to the control seat. 

“Alright.”

❋ ❋ ❋

For a long moment the head-thing is blank. Then it lights up again. It feels different, somehow.

We understand your confusion and have sympathy for your grief. We do not come from within the Sky, but beyond it. We may look like your Dry Ones, but we are good people. We would like to show you our home. Will you come?

Beyond… the Sky? This could be a trap, but after all, I was only one, no great loss. And if there were people beyond the Sky, perhaps we would not have to be alone anymore.

I will come.