1
ARIX
I do not know where I am.
Memory returned slowly; an alarming realization in itself. As photons held together with complex magnetics, we did not damage easily. Certainly not to the point of amnesiac degradation. But something was not right.
Something was abnormal.
As sight returned, I realized what had happened.
I was inside my ship, which had been damaged. The cockpit was in a chaotic state around me, electronics and metal alloys ripped open and damaged. There was gravity under me, not the artificial sensation generated by my ship but something foreign.
Something new.
I was in stasis during the trip, to be revived in upper orbit of my target planet. The sixth planet on my tour, the final one--and least promising--of the tour before returning home. A planet devoid of intelligent life, with only a quadrupedal species driven by urge and need. Primal beings that had yet to develop tools with metal or even stone.
Yet there I was, on the planet surface. It was abnormal, and abnormal was usually bad.
I used my mind to disable my magnetic restraints, allowing my photon-body to float toward the shattered plastic window of the cockpit. Beyond, the world on which I had landed was unfamiliar to the point of terrifying.
A flicker of thought and I have disabled such emotions.
The electronics of my craft are down, another nanosecond of thought confirmed. Only the powerless life support systems were active. No distress beacon. I needed to get a look at the external surface.
I returned my focus to the landscape. Tall vegetation with hard skin rose high into a dark sky. Ash fell gently from such sky; a quick scan told me it was frozen water in crystalline form, millions of tiny hexagons reflecting my body's light. I feel the crystals liquefy as they passed through my body, leaving a dripping trail behind.
I turned, and considered the sight for a very long time.
My ship was utterly destroyed. Beyond the cockpit, the primary fuselage of supplies was gone. So was the ion drive and the batteries to power it. What remained of the smooth exterior was riddled with dents and gashes as if it had been slashed by the claws of a giant beast.
It is good that I have disabled my fear processing.
And although there was no distress beacon or any other electrical signal emanating from my craft, there was something else.
Radio wave signals.
Dozens of them.
In the nanosecond of time after sensing them, I felt a determination bordering on hope. It had been 50,000 of this planet's years--a blip on the scale of my own Karak civilization--since our last scouting scans. No civilization could have developed from primal animals to radio wave communication in such a short period of time! Which meant another Karak scout must have noticed my craft's crash, traveled there, and then woken me from stasis. Safe in stasis, there would have been no reason to wake me before assistance arrived.
It was the only conclusion that made sense, and it was pleasing to realize.
I opened my consciousness to the radio waves and a chaos of noise and data bombarded me. It was overwhelming; I quickly narrowed my focus to one wave and processed what I heard:
Ohh ohh, I'm a rebel just for kicks now. I've been feeling it since nineteen sixty-six now. Might be over now, but I feel it still.
It was nonsense to me; a random collection of syllables and noise. And worse than that, it was foreign.
Something was very wrong.
I scanned through other wavelengths, but everything was similar. Nothing promising. Help was not there for me. I was stranded on this planet.
But the more immediate concern: from whom were these radio waves originating?
I sensed something artificial in the distance: a section of the biome which did not make sense. Something impossibly straight. Unnatural.
I moved in that direction, ignoring the sensation of the crystallized water melting through my body. As I moved I directed my photon gaze above. The sky was obscured by localized weather (likely the source of the crystallized water) which inhibited my ability to scan the star systems. That would have set my mind at ease.
I passed between the tall vegetation carefully, sensing the unnatural phenomenon growing closer. Suddenly the biome changed, the tall stiff vegetation ending with intentional abruptness.
There, ahead, was a long path of black material.
I neared and inspected it. The surface was eight degrees warmer than the surrounding ground, which was why the crystallized water melted upon touching it. It was approximately three of my body lengths wide, with rectangles of intentional discoloration spaced precisely down the middle. The path extended in both directions endlessly, tall clusters of vegetation framing it on either side.
It occured to me that I may be in danger. This was a construct of technological advancement; whoever had the ability to build this surely had weapons. I would need to proceed carefully.
Fortunately, we Karak had survived for our countless millennia thanks to our ability to shift into different forms.
I sensed something.
A disturbance in the radio waves to the left, approximately aligned with this path. Something was receiving the radio waves, and giving off sound waves in return. Caution was my immediate instinct; I prepared to return to the patch of tall vegetation to observe the disturbance from a safe distance.
Until I saw the light.
The object was giving off tremendous light!
Cones of photons trumpeted the object's arrival; it grew closer, and would arrive momentarily. Rather than shift into whatever the being's form was, perhaps remaining in my natural, photon-based identity was ideal.
Light for light. As it was with the Karak.
I re-enable my emotional senses and felt a burst of hope. Whatever species this was, they were of our kind. They would accept me, and likely help me.
Help me return home.
The object neared with great speed. I moved out into the path to greet it, to allow our photons to join in the Karak way.
I realized my mistake too late.