Stranded on a Tiny Planet

It was dark and the Rogashay settlement was quiet save for the crackle of the nightly fires and the sounds of creatures in the woods surrounding. Boroxle sat in front of his home with his first son Xeron.

Not long after the Accord had been laid out and signed with the Ansheetans had he Broke from his pod. He had Broke strongly and without difficulty which made his parents proud from the first moment. Xeron looked like a shorter carbon copy of his father but with much smoother features and his mother’s green eyes. As he aged his bony crest would develop and his skin would roughen more with texture.

Like the Ansheetans, the Rogashay Broke from their pods ready to face the world. Still, the young Rogashay had much to learn about fighting, raising sand dragons, and the like. It wouldn’t be long before Xeron would have to choose a sand dragon egg and have the young creature imprint upon him. Then he would learn how to ride and master the beast. It was obvious to Boroxle that the young Rogashay was eager to gain this honor as soon as possible.

“How old were you when Ru’tra hatched father?” Xeron asked.

“Older than you.” He replied knowing the direction of the conversation, “You must be patient, son. Zay-za’s eggs won’t hatch for many sun cycles.”

The young Rogashay leaned back against the wall of their hut, “How will I know which one to choose?”

“You won’t.” Boroxle explained, “That is all up to chance. You must be ready though when the time comes. Watch Zay-za like I taught you. Watch her because she will know the time of the hatching.”

Xeron nodded but still had an expression of impatience.

It was then that they both heard a strange shrieking hiss high in the sky out toward the Wasteland. The Rogashay settlement was deeper in the forest, at least half hour from the border of the Wasteland but they could still hear the strange sound. Both Boroxle and his son stood up and squinted toward the sky. Amid the stars a cluster of brighter blue dots grew larger and larger as it seemed to fall from above.

“What is that?” Xeron asked with wonder.

Boroxle shook his crested head, “I don’t know.”

He had seen falling debris from the sky that made light but this was something completely new and was far too slow to be what he knew. Amid the darkness they could barely make out an enormous silhouette above the blue dots. It grew and grew as it fell closer to the planet’s surface. The hissing shriek became a dull rumble and before they knew it the trees began to whip and the leaves rattled as a massive storm-like blast of hot wind erupted all around them. Then a quake vibrated through their feet and the wind ceased.

Some Rogashay, awakened by the noise of the gusting wind, peeked out of their homes with curiosity.

Something had landed in the Wasteland and it was huge. Boroxle didn’t know what it was but he needed to find out. He grabbed his energy spear and slung it over his shoulders.

“Where are you going father?”

“To the Wasteland.” He answered shortly, heading for the pens where they kept their sand dragons.

“I’ll come with you.” Xeron insisted.

For a moment Boroxle wanted to tell his son to remain but then said, “Grab your weapon. I’ll get Ru’tra.”

Excited to be included, Xeron rushed into their hut for his own energy spear. Boroxle reassured the few awakened Rogashay that he was going to investigate the disturbance and they compliantly stood down, returning to their homes.

After saddling and reigning Ru’tra both father and son rode off toward the Wasteland to investigate. The pair were silent for much of the trek in the dark. In fact, most of the forest was silent. Ru’tra was moving at a brisk pace since darkness was not much of a hindrance to sand dragons. It wasn’t until they were almost halfway to the edge of the forest when the sand dragon suddenly stopped, tongue flicking rapidly with his head up.

“Ru’tra...Ru’tra...” Boroxle maneuvered the reigns, clicking to urge the lizard on but Ru’tra was frozen in place.

“What’s wrong?” Xeron sounded concerned as he stroked the lizard’s back next to the saddle.

“He senses something...something he doesn’t like.” Boroxle stated slowly and quietly.

Then distantly the forest began to crackle. Deep hollow sounds of trees being broken and brushed aside accompanied by muffled booms. Only one being on the planet made those kind of noises.

“Oh. It’s Merco.” Xeron made a face of relief but then confusion, “But...what’s he doing walking around the forest this late?”

Boroxle narrowed his yellow eyes. Something didn’t feel right in his gut. He handed Ru’tra’s reigns over to his son and slid down the sand dragon’s side to the ground. With feet planted on the ground he felt the vibrations and listened. Ru’tra was growing more agitated. A rotation ago that might’ve been the case with Merco’s approach, but as the giant alien came around more to their settlement, Ru’tra and most of the other sand dragons didn’t act fidgety when he came. Quite often the giant would take time to pet them and give them a scratch along their frill which some of them enjoyed.

The rhythmic vibrations became stronger yet, stirring the tree leaves all around them. The snapping of thousands of branches and the deafening crack of shattering tree trunks filled the air. Boroxle didn’t like that. Even though Merco shook the ground when he walked he always seemed careful in his movements. Whatever was out there sounded like it was bulling through everything without concern. The rhythm of the steps was sporadic as well, going fast and then slowing and then speeding up again. Merco tended to walk at a steady, unhurried pace when he approached their settlement.

Ru’tra hissed, ducking his head down to yank on his reigns.

Xeron pulled back, “Easy. Easy...”

“That’s not Merco...” Boroxle concluded ominously, “That...feels bigger.”

“Bigger? But... there’s nothing bigger than Merco!” Xeron argued, trying to keep Ru’tra from running away.

Boroxle was about to remount the sand dragon when the sounds and vibrations went silent. His hand lifted toward his son to signal him to also keep quiet. Whatever was out there was listening.

Silence.

Then suddenly the cracking sounds became deafening and the quakes terrifyingly violent. It was coming right for them!

Boroxle recoiled and went to jump on Ru’tra but the panicked sand dragon wheeled around and knocked him through the air with his tail in his attempt to flee. Boroxle hit a tree hard, wind driven from his lungs. He laid on his stomach trying to regain his breath when the trees above him broke off against the might of a huge shadow. An impact tremor slammed into the ground nearby followed by Ru’tra’s pained squealing hiss. Boroxle lifted his head to see the shadowed silhouette of a massive clawed hand clamped down over Ru’tra’s entire back. A wheeze of sheer horror escaped him when he realized Xeron was still on Ru’tra, but he couldn’t see him. The giant hand closed forcibly and lifted Ru’tra up over the treetops and out of his sight. Boroxle wanted to cry out, call for his son but he still couldn’t breathe as his chest spasmed.

It was a nightmare...a horrible nightmare...it had to be...

But then the horrific sound of bones snapping accompanied by Ru’tra’s shrill death shriek rang out. There was the sound of flesh tearing and then it sounded like rain hitting the leaves in the canopy. Boroxle felt himself shaking as the crunching sounds continued high above him, followed by a deep [GLRK!] and a loud hissing exhale. The deepest sounding rumble he’d ever heard seemed to vibrate everything; the leaves, the trees, his bones. It sounded like a gigantic version of a sand dragon’s rattling.

Boroxle could count the number of times he’d been genuinely afraid on one hand...this was now at the top. He numbly turned his head toward the sky, trying to see the monstrous terror that loomed over the treetops. It was too dark to see detail but even against the black night sky the shadowed silhouette of the monster was blacker. It was gigantic, even more so than Merco. Amid the huge, inky silhouette the glow of a pair of yellow eyes flashed nightmarishly over the trees. The glowing orbs shifted when the enormous thing turned away. A powerful quake answered its step and the trees bent helpless against its bulk. Another impact and another until Boroxle realized it was leaving.

His mind was blank and swirling at the same time as he lay on the ground. He couldn’t react. He couldn’t move. Horror and grief had a death grip on his senses, subduing him to a trembling mess. Never had he felt something so terribly painful.

Xeron...Ru’tra...Xeron... his son...they were gone...eaten by a gigantic monster...and he could do nothing...

Then the terrible rage came surging through, seeking to rip the grief aside and inflict pain and suffering upon the monster. But the two powerful emotions tangled together in a jumble of blind urgency as Boroxle staggered to his feet. He was starting to breathe again but it was all but choked from the anguish and strangled with rage. Even as the booming footsteps were fading from him, Boroxle pursued the beast.

It wasn’t until he realized he couldn’t catch up no matter how fast he moved that a second horror stabbed through him.

It was heading for the Rogashay settlement.

....

Morning...

By light, scouts from Anashee had seen the gigantic, dark-metaled ship looming on the horizon of the Wasteland. The two scouts had never seen an interstellar ship before and weren’t sure what to make of it. Still, they knew it was something that needed to be reported to the leaders of Anashee immediately.

Word spread fast and at the mention of a huge vessel Anu and Traynar knew Merco would want to see it. In fact, they were almost excited to tell him. Since he’d been on Anashee he’d mentioned many times his yearning for a way off their planet so he could return to his family. It seemed their technological efforts to call a ship for him had not been in vain. With haste they flew out to Pela Canyon as fast as they could to tell him the news.

When they arrived, Merco was just leaving the canyon with several large containers of ore and fiber fungus held between his hands. A massive job for the Pela Ansheetans made simple for a giant alien like Merco.

“Merco! Merco! There’s a ship! A ship!” the two fliers shouted out to him.

Merco nearly dropped the containers in his hands, “A ship?”

They pointed in the general direction of the Wasteland, “Two scouts said they saw a huge ship out in the Wasteland this morning.”

A smile of disbelief was spreading on his bearded face, “Where? Show me!”

They quickly led him through the forest and Traynar mentioned, “The scouts said it was so big you could see it for a long distance. So, once we get past the lake you might be able to see it!”

Merco nodded, his pace considerably quicker than the leisurely walk he typically adopted.

“A ship! What did it look like? Did it have any markings?”

Traynar and Anu both shrugged, “They just said it was big and dark and it was out in the Wasteland near the forest. Not much else.”

Off to Merco’s side Pixie flew, keeping pace with him. His excitement was evident and after hearing of his homesickness last night she understood his giddiness. She wanted to feel happy with him...but she couldn’t. An ache was cramping her stomach and pushing her growing plumage down against her head. If there was a ship then Merco could leave. He would leave. They had become almost inseparable in her short life and the thought of him leaving and possibly never coming back made her anxious and depressed at the same time.

After some time Merco finally made it to the lake and stretched his neck to scan the horizon. Faded and blurry he could see a dark blob far away.

“I think I see it!” he pointed.

The three Ansheetans flew higher than him and they too could see the dark shape, though it had no detail. Merco’s pace quickened even more, almost a light jog as he sought to get closer to the ship which he’d been waiting so long for. It wasn’t until he’d passed the lake that he stumbled slightly, stopped and turned with a raised foot.

“What is it Merco?” Anu asked when he stopped.

“It’s a sand dragon...almost stepped on it.” Merco explained, watching the large lizard scurry away into the trees below him.

They were close to the Rogashay territory but seeing a sand dragon out wandering around without a rider was odd. He put the containers in his hands down a moment, hopped a couple steps and caught the lizard. It thrashed until Merco flipped it over on its back, putting it in a catatonic state.

He squinted, “Huh. Still has a saddle and harness. Think it got away from its rider?”

“Maybe.” Traynar commented, also suspicious of the lone steed.

Merco glanced up, “Well, I can drop it off back in the Rogashay territory. I’m going to pass by anyway.”

“What about the ores?” Anu pointed to the containers he’d set down.

“I’ll come back for them, I promise.” He broke off a couple trees and set them at odd angles as a marker for later.

...

When Merco reached the border of the Rogashay territory he noted it seemed oddly quiet since the Rogashay usually had sand dragon sentries near the borders of their range. He didn’t see any and they usually met him when they felt him coming. Treading gently, he entered the territory and made his way to the main settlement. It wasn’t until he got closer that he noticed the trees surrounding the cleared area of their farmland were broken off and flattened in places. An old, but familiar sensation lifted the hairs on the back of his neck and shivered his skin.

Something was very wrong...

His view cleared the treetops and Merco froze in his tracks, his face falling with horror. Several Rogashay huts were crushed flat, debris strewn as if a tornado had hit. And then he saw the pieces...bloody fragments of sand dragons and Rogashay littering the ground sporadically. He could faintly hear the gasps of his three friends as they beheld the carnage below.

“What...?” Merco whispered as he dropped thunderously to his knees, dumbly releasing the sand dragon in his hands on the ground. “What happened?”

The grisly sight was making Merco’s heart beat hard and fast, flashing back to similar atrocities from his war days. Whole platoons blown to bits...no one knew whose parts belonged to whom.

"MERCO!” a strangled voice twisted with anguish roared at him.

He snapped from inside his head to see Boroxle, running at him. The Rogashay leader leaped onto his bent knees, ran up them, and slammed his whole body against his stomach, fists furiously pummeling him as he shouted.

“WHERE!? WHERE WERE YOU!?”

Merco stared at the furious leader who was normally so stoic and grim attacking him as someone maddened by grief.

“Boroxle? What happened?”

“THIS IS YOUR FAULT! YOU LET THIS HAPPEN!” the Rogashay accused raggedly, punching and clawing at him like a wild creature.

Merco didn’t know what to say. It was evident the Rogashay leader was grief stricken and acting illogically. He let the small alien punch him, hoping he’d calm down when he tired. Then the dagger came out and Boroxle reared back to stab him. Merco’s gloved hand quickly intervened and blocked the attack. The Rogashay stabbed at the impervious prosthetic until Merco’s fingers gently grabbed the Rogashay’s arm to halt the assault. Boroxle strained vainly against Merco’s grip, trying to continue, but he slowly relinquished the blade with a defeated slump. His rough, scaled shoulders trembled as he collapsed sobbing against Merco’s gloved hand.

“Xeron...Xeron...” he choked.

Merco recognized the name as the leader’s son who wasn’t much younger than Pixie. With great care he scooped up Boroxle and held him up to talk face to face with him.

“Boroxle...” he started quietly, “What happened? Tell me.”

The Rogashay leader’s crested head was bowed as he fought to control his grief. Merco patiently waited for him to compose.

Finally, Boroxle looked at him with grit dental plates, “Something...something came out of the sky. It landed in the Wasteland. Xeron...” he choked on the name but continued, “We went out to see what it was. At first we thought we heard you coming through the forest but...it wasn’t.”

Merco listened, not interrupting.

“I got off Ru’tra because he was acting spooked. Then it...it came at us in the dark. It was huge...bigger than even you.”

A look of terror and disbelief came over the three Ansheetans’ faces.

“I- I tried to get back on Ru’tra and run, but he knocked me into a tree. I couldn’t move...I couldn’t...I couldn’t stop it. It...” his voice halted.

Even in the alien eyes, Merco could see the familiar look of a person reliving a trauma in his mind; the subtle ticking of the pupils, the blankness of the stare. He too had felt it.

“It...grabbed both of them...it was so fast...so huge. Then it...it...” his voice cracked loudly, “...it ate them!”

Merco stared intently at Boroxle, “What did? Did you see it?”

“T-Too dark. It’s eyes...glowing yellow over me.” He trembled. “It never saw me and then it... it came for the settlement.” He slammed his fists down onto Merco’s hand all but screaming, “I couldn’t keep up with it! I couldn’t stop it!”

“Where’s your mate? Where’s Emissary Kriees?” Anu asked, floating closer.

Boroxle shook his head, “She’s not here. She-she may have escaped...I don’t know. By the time I got here it was already over and everyone was...gone.”

It wasn’t much to go on but Merco had a sinking feeling that the arrival of the ship and this atrocity were most certainly connected. Amid the carnage Merco could see the impressions of large footprints in the dirt. They looked strange, inhuman. His attention returned to Boroxle as waves of pity made his chest hurt for the leader. His son was dead...eaten by whatever had arrived on this planet. Merco couldn’t even fathom the emotional pain at the thought of losing one of his beloved sons.

Quite abruptly, Boroxle stood in Merco’s hand, gesturing with violent urgency, “Merco, I am going to find whatever killed my people and my son and YOU are going to help me bring it down!”

“Boroxle, we don’t even know what we’re dealing with. We can’t just...” Traynar tried to explain.

“I am talking to Merco, NOT YOU.” Boroxle snarled before looking directly at Merco, “You must help me! I beg you!”

Merco understood his desire for vengeance and knew he’d want the same if he were in Boroxle’s position. But Traynar was absolutely right. They needed more information about what or who they were dealing with before any action could be taken.

He held up the Rogashay leader a bit higher, “I will help you Boroxle. But we need to know our enemy before attacking. Otherwise you won’t get the justice you seek.”

Boroxle shook a bit but put his open hand before his face and dropped it in the traditional Rogashay gesture of respect and gratitude. Merco nodded solemnly to him and then glanced around the area.

“Let’s care for your dead first. It wouldn’t be right to let them remain this way.” Merco suggested.

Boroxle looked around slowly and said, “We have always let the sands of the Wasteland bury our dead. Here...we will burn these. There will be retribution for them...I swear it.”