02 Quetzals Flock

QUETZAL'S FLOCK
The brazier flared up and the scene changed and so did Kane's perception. He
was attuned to something which was beyond his capability to grasp. It was like a
pulse which surged with the renewal of knowledge and ebbed out to the furthest point
where it became the possession of - something.
He saw all that was around him from a high place. He looked up and became
aware of the great red giant star hovered protectively above its magenta planet. The
planet trembled as gravitational tides surged in its core. A gentle wind fanned swaying
tresses of Schwarm, cracking seed pods and cascading the next cycle's harvest to the
super-heated soil. In clusters across the vast plain, silicate skeletons of dead Myrc
forests shattered themselves against each other, in a sparkling shimmer of refracted
light. He was almost motionless in the buoyant thermals of the superheated
atmosphere - then he knew what he was!
A Sentinel floating watchfully!
A dust eddy skirled lazily far below, stirring the Schwarm bed close to an eggwomb.
The Sentinel dipped in flight and descended protectively, but the disturbance
passed. Far across the plain, other Sentinels kept the same vigil. The egg-womb lay
apparently dormant, grey pink in the skeletal remains of its ancestor, but within,
cramped and quiescent, the Hatchling waited to emerge. His eyes were now open, the
curved inner surface of the shell glowed pearly pink. The Sentinel gently probed into
the Hatchling's mind, as he had done so often during the patient wait - warmth,
encouragement, comfort - all flowed from the collective mind of the Flock, into and
through the Sentinel. They called to the new life, awakening the instinctive desire to
emerge.
The Hatchling pierced the membrane of the air sac and drew his first breath,
and then in a reflex action, stabbed the smooth inner surface of the shell, and then
again and again, as the tough silicate structure resisted his efforts and his only breath
grew stale. In a final blind despairing thrust, he broke through and sagged exhausted
against the small opening he had created.
The watching Sentinel hovered easily, a minimum of effort holding his great
body high in the atmosphere. From this elevation, he saw the alien creatures
approaching through the Myrc forests. This was a regular pattern which had been
repeated over and over during the long day of Hatching. They would approach and
then after a period of inactivity close to the egg-womb, they would return back the
way they had come. He watched their clumsy movements, and the Flock watched
through him, probing tentatively into their minds. As always, they met thick darkness
and incomprehensible thought patterns - there was no contact, mind with mind.
These aliens had come at the beginning of the Hatching cyclic period, when
the great red star had reasserted its dominance over its planet and it was time for the
emergence of new life. The Flock had learned little from the contact, except for the
presence of an utter mind barrier. These creatures preferred to crawl in the dust of the
plain, even though their coming had seared the atmosphere and shattered thousands of
crystalline Myrc trees.
Their structure was a further oddity. It was outside of the combined knowledge
of the Flock. They were wingless, unless you could call wings, the puny appendages
sprouting from the grotesque area of their upper torso - and yet, they were biped,
which made them different again from the Krain. On the whole, the newcomers had
proved themselves to be harmless and early clumsy efforts to capture members of the
Flock, had been easily evaded and contemptuously ignored.
The Sentinel wheeled lower and idly circled the slowly moving creatures - the
Flock urged caution. There were two of them, stumbling unsteadily over the uneven
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