Sci-Fi concept “Legends of Earth”

If, during the year 4,283 AD, you were to look through a powerful telescope pointed in the direction of the asteroid belt, you would notice something strange.  Some of the bright pinpoints of light, which you might have thought at first were stars, are moving, orbiting in a circle, in line with the belt.  If your telescope happened to have a particularly fine focus, you might notice other signs of activity – objects moving in patterns not typically associated with asteroids, objects with strange shapes or colors, emitting signals that to an astronomer would seem stranger still.

Of course, you wouldn’t be standing on the surface of the Earth looking through a telescope, because to stand on the surface of the Earth in those days was to risk death in all manner of horrible, uncomfortable ways.  If you didn’t asphyxiate (say you had a spacesuit), get caught in a river of molten plastic and organic chemicals, or run afoul of an irradiated dust storm, there were the meteors, the lightning, and oh yes, the predatory land-squids.  4,283 was a particularly bad year for the squids.  The Earth’s surface in those days was a wasteland of broken rock and magma.  You might be in Earth’s orbit, however even this is unlikely due to a dangerous jumble of debris, circling at high speed, colliding with itself, and bombarding the planet.  More likely, your telescope is located within the asteroid belt itself, looking inward at an array of strange objects, the dispersed dwelling places of the survivors of humanity.

Focusing on one particular object, a medium-sized sphere with a turquoise hue, in a binary orbit with what looks like a small sun, you might notice a slight shifting pattern on the surface.  Focusing still further, depending on how your telescope is constructed, you might just be able to make out the shapes of leaves, apparently blowing in the wind.  Now, very few telescopes are capable of this kind of refinement, but if you could look even closer, you would notice a human-like creature, a female, with turquoise skin and a strange pattern along her back and sides, sitting in the boughs of a tree.

***

Arla sat on a tree limb, and watched the sun sinking past the top of the canopy, the color of the sky deepening.  It wasn’t the sun, of course, but a much smaller, closer sphere of reacting material the Ares tribe had helped them cobble together.  Straightening her back, and stretching tired muscles, she stood, placing her bare feet against skin-like silver bark.  Leaning forward slightly, she bent her legs, and pushed off.  Moving straight outward along the tree limb, she passed a fractal spread of branches, culminating in a fan of turquoise leaves.  Grabbing a branch, she altered her trajectory, spinning off at an angle to slip between a series of massive trunks.

Making her way through the forest, she altered her course several times, rebounding off the trunks of trees, or catching air in the flaps that protruded from her back to change direction.  She moved at considerable speed through the shafts of light that slanted through the canopy, losing themselves in the darkness below.  Passing through a screen of leaves, Arla emerged into a sizable clearing, where a number of angular disc-shaped metallic objects hovered.  Coming to rest at the rim of one of the discs, she proceeded towards its center, where a congregation of turquoise-skinned individuals was waiting.

“About time!” one of them called – a smaller one, with a pattern of diamonds tattooed behind his ears.  “What do you expect?” Arla replied, “I’m not a robot – after a day like that I have to sit for a moment and watch the sunset!”  The smaller one, whose name was Thale, proceeded to remind her that it was not, in fact, a sun, but had been lent to them, as a gift of goodwill, by the Ares tribe.  Arla sighed – she wished that, for a moment, Thale could forget the practical realities of their situation, and simply appreciate a sunset.  The sky was still a mandarin hue, and the leaves at the forest’s edge were a shifting tapestry beyond the soft yellow of the sleeping pod’s rim.

“Where were you all day?”  Arla asked Thale, anchoring herself into a couched depression with one arm.  “I took a trip around the dark side,” he replied.  “I was helping Marthos deal with the frost problem.”  Frost, drifting up from the icy comet beneath the tree’s roots, had been collecting in the forest canopy, preventing the trees from photosynthesizing.  “There’s a slight temperature imbalance we think, but hopefully it’s not too bad.  We should be able to just place some condensers over there to fix it, but hopefully that works, or we might have to adjust the whole rotation cycle.”

A basket of fruit was passed in Arla’s direction, and she took one, settling deeper into the depression and letting herself relax.  Arla and Thale sat for a moment, chewing on the fruit, and letting the blood flow back through their limbs as the sky darkened, the fading ‘sun’ reflecting off a halo of dust, beyond which the stars were starting to appear.

***

At the same time – or, as close to ‘simultaneously’ as you can get in a spaceship hurtling at relativistic speeds somewhere along Neptune’s orbit, a man named Jobe was settling into his bunk.  Listening to the creaking of metal, and the slight whistle of a pipe somewhere aft, Jobe pulled off his gloves, swung up his legs, and began drifting off nearly the moment he was horizontal.  Sixty-eight thousand, seven hundred twenty three hours, fifty two minutes, seven seconds, read the clock behind his head.  His dreams were troubled.

***

The next day, Arla awoke to a shade of bright green – the Lichens were out.  Floating in the atmosphere of the comet, tiny clusters of cells tended to collect in the air, drifting in light clouds, the blackness of space visible behind them.  It was these clouds that the humanoids (their tribe’s name was Eulos) tended, and harvested as a primary food source.

Flipping out of her depression onto the roof of the disc, Arla walked to where the Eulos were gathering, at the top of the dome.  She seated herself in a ring with the others, and they all began a brief chanting ritual to synchronize themselves to one another.  The harvesting dance required precise coordination – the ritual was not simply a tradition, it was a necessity.

As one, still clutching hands, the Eulos bent their knees, and shot into the sky.  The fractal patterns of veins along each of their sides pulsed, and shook outward into dragonfly-like wings, inflating as they spread.  The light gravity of the comet allowed the group to gain considerable height, simply using the muscles of their legs – they rose to a point where the curve of the comet was visible, just below the green clouds, then broke formation, gliding outwards from the circle.

The wings themselves were phenomenal organs.  In appearance similar to dragonfly wings, they were composed of a mat of veins and capillaries, capped on top by a translucent layer of skin.  At a young age, the Eulos taught their children to channel body heat through the wings:  radiated downwards, the heat provided a lift that was just able to counteract the comet’s light gravity.  The practice, though physically draining, allowed the Eulos to glide for long periods of time above the comet’s surface.  The wings also contained a variety of ultra-sensitive pigments, that captured energy from the ‘sun’, and from the vacuum of space.

Speeding outwards, the Eulos turned in unison, and glided into a circle around the cloud.  Several at a time would dart towards the center, and brake suddenly by straightening their wings with a cracking sound.  The force of the wingbeats threw the lichen-cells (a symbiotic mix of algae and fungi) together.  The force of the wingbeats compacted the cells, causing them to stick to one another and fall downwards. At this moment, another Eulos would make a swoop downwards, carrying a mat made from fibers of the huge trees that circled the comet.  The mats would catch the falling lichen, to be rolled up and stored under an arm.

***

The ice of Europa groans and twists above a dark sea.  Plunge beneath the ice, and there is a dark ocean of swirling liquid.  Down, down into the crushing depths, and eventually you reach the planet’s core – a dense landscape of congealed iron and rock.  Protruding from one of the deepsea ridges, there are sets of blocky, fractal structures, that protrude into the ocean like tumorous growths.

If human eyes could see beneath the murky depths of Europa, this is what the City of the Mala would look like.  From the outside they are geometric latticeworks composed of stone or another mineral.  They arc and branch, forming cavernous spaces outside which the water extends into blackness.

Within gaps in the latticework, movement is visible:  many small creatures are swimming, climbing, or crawling in the interstices of the structure.  Closer in, carved from the bedrock of the deep-sea ridges, there are protruding structures with dark windows and cave like interiors.  From one of these structures, a formation of swimming creatures is emerging.

The creatures are long, clothed in a slip of scales.  The upper portions of their body are humanoid, with powerfully-built arms.  Their eyes are black, and large, composed entirely of pupil, and the lower halves of their bodies culminate in a fish-like tail.

Emanating from the group is a sound like whale song, a rich chorus of underwater vibrations.  They approach the outer edge of the latticework, and their song goes silent.  Together, they dart through holes in the latticework, making their way along its edge, sometimes inside the space, sometimes just outside.

They approach a group of schooling fish, or another type of organism, balled together just outside the wall of the latticework.  Weaving between the openings, they assemble inside.

Abruptly, a storm of clicks and whistles rings out, and the Mala dart into the open, circling around the outside of the smaller creatures, and pinning them against the latticework.  In turns, the Mala dart inwards at the school.  Cracks of light flash from their fingertips, and individuals from the school float upwards, stunned, to be picked from the water by quick hands.

At a shrill cry, the Mala scatter.  A dark shape has appeared in the background, its outline gradually resolving in the distance.

***

The sound of beeping jarred Jobe from his sleep.  Rolling out of his hammock, he placed his feet on the floor, and padded barefoot up the steel walkway that lead to a small control room.  A light was flashing on the control panel – he jabbed at a button with his finger, and the beeping ceased, but his brow remained furrowed.  Peering out into the darkness through the large window in front of him, he stared for a time, seemingly searching for something.  The darkness stared back inscrutably, and so Jobe irritably poked a few more buttons, and then turned and headed back to his bunk.

***

Pulsing through the blackness of space, just outside the orbit of Venus, a shape is lurking.  Behind it trails a beam of light, miles long.  Light and energy from the nearby sun glints off chinks and protrusions that break the regularity of its slowly rotating carapace.  Light, and particulate matter are radiating from it in a halo, giving it the appearance of a green-tinted comet.

***

Crouching in the protection of a stone crevice, one of the scaled humanoids shoots a wide-pupiled glance at his counterpart.  This humanoid’s name is Ttraktk, which in Europan translates to something like “Kevin”.  “Kevin’s” counterpart’s name is Tnkotro, which translates as “Daniel”.

The two are watching as a darker shape draws closer, approaching from the open space beyond the Mala latticework.

The shape, as it rises from the depths, reveals itself to be huge, flat with a curved upper side.  The creature is lopsided – all along one rim, a single bony fin is rippling in the water, and a huge set of eyes stares upwards from what must be the head.  A rustle sweeps through the Mala behind their latticework, but none of them move.

As the creature rises, it approaches the remaining bundle of smaller fish, still pinned against the wall, that the Mala had been hunting.  Abruptly its mouth opens, and set of teeth flashes outwards, connected to a muscular, extendable jaw.  Several of the smaller fish vanish in a cloud of scales.  A second snap from the leaping jaws clips the latticework, which crumbles in a shower of stone and sparks, leaving behind a tangle of wires.

The Mala homes are built using a form of accretion technology, which runs energy through wires to create a reaction with elements in the water.  The latticeworks are essentially limestone, and the energy running through the wires has also stimulated the growth organisms not unlike coral polyps:  these imported like seeds in packets from Earth’s oceans long ago, genetically modified to survive in Europa’s oceans.  The surface of the structure is complex, and life of all sizes flows through the many crevices.

Immediately a whale-like war cry issues from the humanoids hiding in the stone, their voices resonating together as they flash from the structure.  Avoiding the creature’s jaws, they harass it from above and below, again throwing bright flashes of light from their fingertips – perhaps electricity generated from an internal field.

The creature thrashes, then flips around and vanishes into the darkness.

***

Arla brushed aside a wisp of floating Lichens, whipping past another Eulos flying in the other direction.  From somewhere behind the cloud, a voice rang out:  “Ratil, look out on your six!”  Ratil, carrying a large mat, had swooped downwards to catch a clump of falling lichen.  As she returned, swooping upwards, she was simultaneously rolling up the mat – her head was down, and she about to collide with another Eulos, who had just turned towards the center.

Looking up, Arla saw the two twist to avoid one another, their wingtips brushing.  The other Eulos, whose name was Tamarang, let out a huge laugh.  “Close one!” flying at the edge of the comet’s increased gravity, damaging their wings at this height could be fatal, sending them spinning off into space.

Dipping below the cloud, Arla locked eyes with three other Eulos, who had done the same thing.  Lana was right ahead of her, Thale and Samana on either side in her peripheral vision.  The four held this state for a moment, taking eachother in as they sped towards one another, then simultaneously flipping upwards into the cloud.

Immediately, Arla’s vision is obscured in a green haze.  The Lichens rush past her as she continues forward, sensing, rather than seeing, the three others speeding towards her through the fog.  Tilting her wings slightly, she throws her body forward, rotating it vertically as she approaches the center point.  Throwing her wings outward, they sweep through the thick cells with a crack.  Crack crack crack – the wingbeats are in unison, and groups of cells are thrown together as the shapes of the other Eulos abruptly become visible.  Several large clumps fall downwards, to be caught below.

Flipping backwards, the four turn over in midair, and glide outward like the spokes of a wheel.  As Arla reaches the edge of the cloud, she sees Ratil, Tamarang, and two others dipping below to repeat the process.  In nearby clouds, other groups are circling.  After several hours, the group has collected a large supply, dropping the rolled-up mats onto the canopy of the trees for later transportation.

Picking up two mats each, the eight Eulos glide in formation back in the direction of the sleeping pods.