Armpit of the Gods by Frank Sonderborg

 




The shock wave of a star going Super Nova can expel material at speeds up to several percent of the speed of light.

This shudder sends an expanding X-ray death wave into its surrounding interstellar surroundings.

The Wyse, the branch of science and war that had planned the exit from our dying sun, had found some suitable planets we could colonize.

We were the last remains of our cephalopod's civilization. Uprooted and launched on a perilous diaspora journey across the vastness of time and space.

Were they aquatic beings like us out there? Will they resist our coming to take up residence, in their Solar System.

And if life had evolved, as it should with aquatics, they could not be, other than intelligent, and therefore open to an intelligent negotiation.

 

724 light-years away, Ubururu had hung like a shining welcoming beacon in the black emptiness of space.

They said it was a rare wonder, a complete water world.

Would they share their planet with another alien refugee species?

But why not? We were a spacefaring civilization. And as far as our constant data updates had discovered, the inhabitants of the Ubururu Planet, where new to Space travel, and had, surprisingly, not gotten out of their own Solar System.

Our enemies where also on the move too, looking for a new home.

It was imperative we found a place and built our defences. For a sure as the light sped from our dying star, the Bipeds would come and try to eradicate us.

The death of a star was both a great sadness and a great religious occasion.

It spread death at lightspeed, but it also released all the heavy metals needed for great Space faring civilizations to thrive.

We started, long ago, building great Space Arks to be flung out into the stars. In the hope that one of our aquatic seedpods would stick.

We studied Ubururu for eons, and the perceived opinion, was, it could easily sustain our cephalopod type of lifeform.

Water is what we needed. And the Ubururu Planet had it in abundance.

 

It was with great excitement; we started to pick up the first bits of incessant Ubururu chatter as we neared their Solar System.

Our scout ships were already in their Solar System relaying back information about the planets. And mining their asteroid belts.

The incoming torrent of information that was sent, made no sense at first, as the Wyse struggled to interpret the sound and images that overwhelmed them.

We managed to piece together the current story of Ubururu.

And with horror we realized the sentient beings in charge of Ubururu, were not aquatics.

They were Bipeds, land bound Bipeds.

But how could this be. Ubururu was an aquatic world.

The Ark was immediately put on a war footing.

The information streaming from Ubururu was a wonder of music, violence and images likened to a mad cephalopods secret stash of psychedelic body picture shows.

Then Wyse broke the stunning news. And it wasn’t that Bipeds rejoiced in waging war, on the burnt dry lands, that rose out of the Ubururu waters of the planet. Or that we’d have to fight them for our survival.

It was about element L115 or the lack of it. Our mining teams had searched their Solar System. And turned up zero.

The shock was profound, when The Wyse informed us, we could not entertain remaining trapped in a Solar system at the mercy of our enemies.

Their Sun was too young. It would take another Super Nova to produce the essential stable element L115. The element that drove our great gravity engines. And made Interstellar travel possible. This backward planet would remain just that, a backwater. The Bipeds would possible consume themselves, when they realised, they could not escape their Solar System prison. Of course, they could travel sub-light. But without the stable element L115 they could never become Intergalactic Space farers.

Our search would go on.

We would bypass Ubururu.

Making a Sling Shot manoeuvre using their Sun and on and out of their Solar System. Heading towards our next target.

Should we warn them of the stream of new travellers, that will come hurtling out of the death throes of our exploding sun, we now know they called, Betelgeuse. No, the consensus was no. We would just pass on through and leave them to their fate.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Written Word Group Almanzora

The Rambla - A walk on the wild side - a short story written by M. E. Heed

The Dead Fly Sketch - A Monty Python Parody by Barry Denson