Experiment week 12
Report to the Architect Guild on Iridos.
Planet #426 designated Genesis 7 has completed the terraforming process, with the seed genes of plant and lower animal life required for a basic eco system well established. The first two phases of the research project have been completed. Phase three will begin shortly, with over three dozen forms of base life having been considered for S.A.T. (Sentience Alteration Therapy) amongst those that have developed already.
Due to repeated failures in Genesis projects one through six using unstable DNA mapping and planetary conditions, there will a a no contact policy once the first S.A.T candidates have been reintroduced to the planet. Any hint that the lifeforms have discovered our presence before projects completion will result in Clean Slate Protocols, initiated immediately.
Expect Phase Three to begin in two cycles. End of Report.
Sighing, I closed the program window and went back to observing the planet through the various sensors the science probe was outfitted with. The neural interface allowed me to program, access and switch between functions far faster than any basic console; already I had altered the probes observation path, sent out S.P.R.I.T. (Spacial Psionic Recording Interface Tracers) to follow the reintroduced females that had undergone the gene therapy in the med pods. All in a matter of an hour. Then again, time help almost no meaning as it was. The science probe was also outfitted with machinery that could create pockets of time in various phases. Physically, I was asleep and my body was experiencing time at a decelerated state, the neural interface allowing my body and psionics to function in what one might consider real or base time.
Around the planet itself was a grid of smaller probes that had the simple purpose of creating an isolated time space pocket around the planet itself. It had already been used for aiding in terraforming the planet, and for giving the initial life forms a chance to grow and evolve, a process that had been recorded and already sent to the Architect Archives. The time field had been returned to normal, but the planet and probe were still out of phase with the rest of the solar system keeping the chance for outside contamination to a minimum.
It was a beautiful specimen as planets went, the waters blue green, glowing at night with luminescent plant life that could be found in the waters. There were three large continents, all of which had various cultures starting, most just about to near the end of what was often called the stone age in historic circles. Scanning the various views received from the probes, I brought up one that was just entering the atmosphere of the largest continent, the main bulk of which rested in line with the planets equator...
...I watched the suns rise for a few moments longer, then turned back to the scrub brush I had trekked up the mountainside to harvest. It was rare enough that when the shaman chanced upon such a plant, it was noted and shown to the one who would succeed them in years to come. Chanting the words of need and thanks to the plant, I pulled out the stone knife and started to gather the flowers I could find and a few of the fruits that might still have seeds for planting.
Placing them in a small leather pouch, I left a bundle of sage and tobacco for the spirits in thanks for what had been given before standing up, a gentle breeze swirling around me briefly before fading. I smiled and breathed in a contented sigh before continuing up the slope to the shamans hut.
As the sun warmed the rocks, my steps became a little faster and more sure of themselves as my silver scales gleamed, some of them rising to absorb as much of the dawn heat as possible. The scaled children of the Thrisak clans were more or less reptilian in appearance, able to walk on hind legs while leaving our upper four arms free to manipulate and work with the various crafts at hand. Scale color and physical build usually determined ones places, as either a hunter/warrior (Dark patches and patterns of green, brown, or pale yellow like the plains grasses), gatherer (brighter greens, yellows, and occasional orange), crafts people/builders (light greys, reds, and violets), and those who had the gift or possibility of becoming a shaman/medicine man/woman (Blues, pinks, and other unusual shades or colors).
Those born with unusual marks were always tested in some manner to see what gifts they had, or might be within them. I was one of those children. Only seventeen seasons old, I was slighter of build than my parents (Warrior and craftswoman); only 5'7", my eyes a clear piercing blue with silver slits. A mane of spines started at the back of my skull, following my spine to my tail tip, my scales marked only by the ritual paints signifying that I was still a student of Gerint, the eldest of the five shamans our small settlement had.
I found the old one sprawled on his favorite rock, facing the sun even as he studied the bits of bones he had cast before him intently. Pale white with red and blue markings etched on his old hide, his feathered crest was decorated with beads and bones, a crude mantle of Strider hide draped across bony shoulders.
"The sun rises in greetings, young Thriss," he remarked, a slight smile coming to his scaled lips even as he gathered up the bones for another cast, flicking a glance at me. Though his eyes were cloudy with the mark of blindness, he could see never the less in his own way.
"As it rises to greet you, Shaltok," I replied, bowing as I used the honorific term for shamans. "May many blessings be upon you this day."
"As with you," he replied, parting his hands to let the bones drop onto the basalt rock face before him, a slight frown creasing his face...
(Start when ready).
I knelt on the ground before the rock, carefully setting the bundles of herbs I had gathered on the ground before me with a grateful sigh as the suns warmth continued to grow.
"Have your dreams changed at all?" Gerint inquired, his thoughts touching my own and making it clear that he wished to share more than words, but feelings and images.
"No...the same troubling images continue to come to me," I responded, closing my eyes as I quickly fell into the trance that allowed our thoughts to more completely join. In the remembered dream, I found myself bruised and beaten, staggering along a well worn animal path through the forest and knowing that I was now an outcast from my village.
Why or how it had happened in the dream was unknown to me. All I knew is that I had to continue forward. The path split and towards each of the two directions lay an object on the ground. To the left, a broken spear with blood still fresh on its tip and the torn remnant of a hide shield. On the right, an ivory dagger wrapped with black dyed leather, the ends holding small charms with unfamiliar markings. It rested on a bowl made from a turtle shell, filled with herbs that represented healing and removal of bad spirits. It always ended there, and always with the impression of a choice to be made.
Our thoughts drifted apart but not before a strong sense of concern was imparted by Gerint.
"It may be that events are taking place that will lead you away from us," he remarked thoughtfully, his gaze intent upon the fortune bones spread before him.
"How am I to serve the clan then?" I asked, watching the old lizard and giving a slight shudder as a cool chill suddenly ran down the length of my spine, all the way to tail tip.
"It may not be the clan you serve in this, but the spirits themselves, Thriss," he responded calmly, gathering up the bones and slowly moving to a sitting position upon the stone ledge. "There is little else I can teach you that will help, as most of your lessons must take place through experiences you still have yet to encounter. There will be no further lessons...perhaps not ever at least with me."
"Does that mean..."
"No...you aren't a full fledged shaman, not as of yet, and only the spirits will be able to tell you when that happens," Gerint said, shaking his head briefly. "There is one last challenge that you must face..."
I leaned forward, eager to know what was left that I needed to do.
"...Survive a day as the spirit guide to the hunting party lead by Hur-og," he finished, giving an apologetic smile. I groaned and wished for a moment that I had either feigned sickness or at the very least tried to alter the dream memory.
"He thinks I'm little more than a weak female as it is," I remarked with a grimace. "More than once he's threatened to skin me if I get in his way.
"There are many kinds of strength, and not all of them apparent, Thriss. If it wasn't for those strengths, I wouldn't have asked to personally mentor you," Gerint told me in a hard tone. "The clan requires it, and my bones are too old to keep enduring the rather enthusiastic antics of the hunters. Its time that you earn your place. Hur-og will be leaving in two fingers of the sun...be ready..."
***
... I was a little winded by the time I reached the village at the base of the slope, my medicine sack swinging at my side and the small obsidian knife hanging from a hide holster from a thong around my neck.
"The pale maggot finally showed up," remarked a mocking deep toned voice from the back of the group. Hur-og stepped forward, towering just over eight feet, powerfully built with a blunt snout and almost no neck. Deep green like aged moss, there were splotches of pale yellow and browns marking a pattern on his scales.
Ignoring his remark, I straightened and started to slow my breaths, using a technique similar to what I had been taught for meditation.
"Show him some respect, Hur-og," remarked one of the few female members of the party, bright emerald green with yellow tinged scales along her throat and breast. "He's a student of Gerint, and-"
"A useless piece of shit that will draw attention on the hunt," Hur-og growled, looking to her with a venomous expression. "We don't need a cursed worm along to spoil things. 'It' will just get in the way."
"Then you will be disobeying the commands of the shamans," I said softly, taking a step forward and exerting my will a little, a small vortex of wind and leafs rising to whirl around me. "The spirits demand that one of those gifted be present on the hunt to ensure that only what is needed is taken on the hunt, and none with young be slain. Will you defy the spirits and bring about a curse on our clan? All for your pride, Hur-og?"
There was silence for a long moment, the warrior's color turning slightly pale as he stepped back from me, expression wary. The others made signs to ward off ill luck and magick, but more in regards to the possible chance of such an eventuality coming to pass than my brief display as I allowed the vortex to die down. Hur-og glanced around and his color darkened as he took a deep breath, reasserting himself and his arrogance.
"Then you had best stay out of the way and do your part, worm," he growled, glaring at me, his anger slightly stronger than his fear. Turning abruptly, he grabbed a small pack, slung it over one shoulder and stepped towards the wooden gate, the rest of the party reluctantly following. Breathing a sigh of relief, I went along, already wondering if it wouldn't be better to just keep silent during the hunt...