02 Quetzals Flock

QUETZAL'S FLOCK
The Sentinel and the new Hatchling were already battling the shrieking air
currents, trying to climb higher to get over the storm. The Dwarf stood clear of the
Giant and vast waves lashed across the plain below, now all was ocean. The planet
rocked and its core tides surged, cracking open the thin outer crust and pouring white
hot magma to boil the ocean.
The Flock was bathed in a ghastly brilliance. They were suspended in it, their
wings battling the turbulence. All concept of movement and relative speed had
ceased. They could have been hovering almost motionless. The horizon between sky
and ocean had ceased to be.
The Sentinel knew that his companion was weakening. The Hatch had been
too late and the limited feeding coupled with the energy sapping chill of the
atmosphere, was having the inevitable effect. The Flock knew and poured out
encouragement upon the stragglers. The Hatchling began to lose height, descending in
a shallow glide towards the turbulent ocean. The Sentinel projected an urgent
warning, willing his companion to battle upward again.
Slowly, the Flock crossed the face of the planet, away from the direct glare of
the white dwarf. Within them the dwarf's intense radiation cut like laser surgery into
their reproductive organs. Genetic patterns for the next generation were established.
Slowly, the orbital forces changed and the red giant began to impose its bulk
between its planet and its companion star, but it took a long time to subdue the forces
that had been unleashed. The Flock suffered casualties. Some of those who hatched
late, faltered and eventually dropped exhausted into the black waters of the ocean.
Others drifted too close and a long thin tentacle whipped up accurately and drew them
down. The Flock met the enemy once more, through their drowning eyes. The
casualties grew and the Sentinel's companion was one of them.
Those who survived, battled the screaming turbulence of the storm. The heat
was sapped from their bodies in the ice and methane blizzard and more fell into the
seething waters. The Flock-mind supported them all, encouraging, warning, urging -
they had to survive - they had to regenerate - the storm would pass - the land would
reappear - the waters would become quiet. They had to struggle a little longer; fight
the cold; cheat the Krain. Live!
The great cycle turned and the red giant gradually took control once again. A
quarter of the lifespan of the avians passed and slowly the Dwarf continued outward
and away from its companion star. A redness tinged the pearl white opaqueness of the
sky - like a dawn.
Still, their great wings held them aloft. Their strength ebbed, their flesh was
almost gone and they had the appearance of great skeletal birds of prey. The reservoirs
of fat stored for the time of starvation, were spent - and they truly did starve.
The waters receded gradually from the scoured land and the planet drew
nearer to its red parent. Warmth stirred the skin and bone of the avians. The wind
grew gentle and the air heated. Bursting with a fecund urge, tenacious seeds of
Schwarm and Myrc began the renewal, almost visibly growing in the steamy marsh of
sodden land. Still, the discipline of the Flock held. They starved but none could
browse on the erupting shoots of succulence, for if they landed, they would never
again win free of the sucking mud.
The Flock-mind was a scream of hunger, weakness, dying, failing. Caution!
Caution! Wait! A little longer - Some fell now but not into the ocean. They struggled
fitfully with their last strength in the red morass. Gradually but certainly, the wind
dried out the land and the red sun pumped out heat. At last came the moment! Eat -
Nourish! Live! Live!
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