unfinished short story
One day after a lot of drugs I began to write this, and its sort of dwindled into nothing. I might as well post it, fwiw.
Chapter One: Scoopia
The planet Scoopia, within the Soul Nebula, is an oddity. It is brilliant green, with shield volcanoes that extend deep into its interior and constantly spew jets of hydrocarbons (mostly liquid benzene), while at the same time smaller vents, that usually ringed these volcanoes, erupt odd purple spores that travel space extremely slowly and eventually bond to a small piece of dust, slowly increasing in size as it attaches to more dust. Usually these spores remain granular, but some get lucky and manage to collect a lot of dust, or attach to a stray asteroid or comet, proceeding to take it over and create a large purple rock or snowball. These purple oddities are prized by those who are fortunate enough to find them, and are widely considered to be the rarest objects in the galaxy. Of course, there are unscrupulous sorts who try to forge these objects by collecting spores and artificially attaching them to rocks, and they manage to hoodwink a fair share of unsuspecting space-farers, but any collector worth his salt has usually been deceived at least once, and knows a fake from an authentic piece. The absolute most valuable are those spores that grew large enough and spent enough time in space to mature and grow odd mushroom like organs, which for whatever reason only grow when the spore is untouched and in space. Some grew large, yet others remained miniature. Only three of these mature spores are known to exist in the entire galaxy. The mushroom-organs that they grow seem to be purely cosmetic, for they shed no spores of their own. It has been hypothesized that these purple objects are in fact the inhabitants of the planet Scoopia, forever doomed to wander the vastness of space, but no one really knows and the objects never say anything.
The asteroids that orbit in the star system of which Scoopia is a part of have notoriously unstable orbits, and unsurprisingly several leave the the system every Scoopian year, forging their own paths through interstellar space, never to return to the vicinity of Scoopia again. One in particular, having been taken over by the purple spores, flew off one day towards an unremarkable yellow dwarf star. Over millions of years, the star grew steadily brighter as the asteroid, long having since sprouted its mushroom-organs that now covered the metallic rock and in some cases even dwarfed it, headed steadily closer.
The asteroid approached the star on a trajectory that were it not for a meddling gas planet, would have sent it flying right back into interstellar space. Alas, however, the large, spherical gas bag could not do without the multi-million-year-old rarity, and captured it, leaving it in an orbit that showed off its other souvenirs. There were four really nice ones, large and grand. One was an extremely fine sight, an orange orb that, not unlike Scoopia itself, had constantly erupting volcanoes, except that they exploded with sulfur, not hydrocarbons. Another was shimmering white, coated completely in ice. Small imperfections creased it, which only added to the moon's beautiful effect. The two largest were rather dull, both highly pockmarked with craters. The gas planet probably only kept them around because one was big enough to be a planet in its own right, and the other was so smashed with impact craters it was remarkable that it had stayed together for the duration of its life.
The planet that held all these was quite the sight in its own right. Rather large for the solar system it occupied, but small compared to gas planets in other systems, it rotated extremely fast and was bound by large brown cloud belts in both hemispheres, the product of various circulation patterns within the giant planet. During the asteroid's stay, sometimes the belts would fade away, leaving white nothingness in its wake, only to reemerge within a short period of time. Storms formed and decayed, a rather noticeable one having done so and only ballooning in size, all while cycling through a remarkable palette of colors that ranged from pale orange to dark, ruddy brown. Small white anti-cyclonic systems formed as white ovals all over the planet.
The gas planet was an extremely strong radiation source, which fried any hope of the formation of life in its vicinity. Even the asteroid's proud mushrooms, which usually thrive in the harsh environment of space, did not like the constant barrage. Fortunately, the gas planet eventually got bored of its new toy, and after a few hundred years, flung it back into space, towards its parent star, and the mushroom growths were saved from a most horrible fate of slow withering.
The purple asteroid eventually began seeing some of its brethren, although they did not share its unique hue. Most were piles of drab gray rubble, although some were rather large, dwarfing the purple vagrant. The gas planet was but an extremely bright light at this point, and other planets were odd colored specks among the stars - there was a brilliant red one, another was deep azure. As the little mushroom coated asteroid drew closer to the star, another planet emerged from its glare, brilliant white. Other planets, far away, lay inconspicuously, unbeknownst to any observer unless there movements were observed. In some cases, they moved so slowly as to be imperceptible among the background stars.
Eventually, the asteroid drew so close to the star that its nuclear-fusion warmth began to tickle the mushroom growths on its surface. The organs, seemingly without purpose, began to slowly stir as if waking from a very long rest. In fact, it was more like birth in that they were waking for the first time. The growths began to move around on the asteroid's surface as a glacier does on Earth, that is to say, very very slowly. Despite having a very short period of time before the warmth disappeared, the growths managed to imbue the asteroid with their essence, best described as a dark gray slime, which came from the stem of the growths that would, in time, no matter where the asteroid was, grow into the otherwise unheard of Scoopian life forms.
Time passed, and soon the asteroid and its retinue of mushroom growths and primordial Scoopian slime were once again in the cold vastness of space. The growths stopped moving, and the slime settled into the crannies of the asteroid. The asteroid, slowly but surely, was moving towards a far planet of this system, still a dim, greyish-blue star among the others.
About ten years after the asteroid's passing of the dwarf star, the Scoopian slime slowly began to coalesce, clumping into small jellylike hemispheres. These slime-creatures moved towards the large mushroom growths, and began feeding on them. The growths were very large for the slime, and one large mushroom was able to satiate every slime creature on the asteroid enough for them to further grow. By this time the cold planet loomed ever brighter in the asteroid's path and the star behind them barely provided any heat or light.
After all the creatures had consumed one of the large mushrooms, they had grown to about the size of the smaller mushrooms. A primordial attraction sent each of the creatures towards a small mushroom, whereupon it was completely enveloped in the coherent gray ooze that made up the primitive Scoopians, and severed from its roots. The suspended mushroom and the ooze thus began a symbiotic relationship: the mushroom, using the choking ooze around it for nutrients, grew into a small nervous system, while the ooze, now benefiting from its internal mushroom's sprout which gave it rudimentary senses and brain, was able to somewhat comprehend its surroundings. The mushroom-based nervous system drove the Scoopians to the sunlit side of the asteroid.
Mushroom-based photosynthesis allowed the Scoopians to grow even more.
The asteroid still slowly approached the planet, now a delightful shade of blue.
The Scoopians grew further, and their nervous system developed in its complexity.
The large mushrooms on the asteroid remained, for the Scoopians were now one hundred percent solar powered.
The head of the mushroom in the Scoopian nervous system became the central processing unit of the Scoopian, acting as the primary brain. Of course, the original, small brain was still there. A Scoopian has two brains.
The ooze that the mushroom initially fed on slowly developed a thin yet sturdy film on its outside, similar to Earthling chewing gum that is extremely stretched out, as the asteroid continued to fall towards the large, cold, blue planet. Some of the roots of the Scoopian nervous system began to protrude outward, creating four legs for the Scoopian to stand on. They had no arms, but had three “eyes,” which resembled funnels more than anything, and had no means of absorbing or processing sound waves. Two of these eyes saw from the mid-infrared to about what humans perceive as the color purple. The third eye lay on the very top of their bodies, that usually stared straight up, but with some effort and the help of peripheral vision, could look straight ahead as well. This eye could see from the ultraviolet barely into the X-ray part of the spectrum.
The Scoopians were now becoming crowded on their small asteroid. Fortunately, the large planet was beginning to ensnare them in its gravity, pulling the Scoopians and their humble rock into orbit, where it would sit for quite a while. Eventually, the asteroid would draw close enough to the planet's largest moon, and the Scoopians would have an opportunity for a new home.
Thanks to their two brains, the Scoopians developed a means of communication rather quickly. They were able to shift colors, some of which are invisible to the human eye, at will, and using this ability in tandem with various movements of their legs, developed an extremely effective sort of language, which, courtesy of their multi-spectrum spanning eyes, were able to convey ideas in a manner far superior to any other.
In addition to the galactic standard emotions - “happy,” “sad,” “angry,” “indifferent,” and all in between, the Scoopians could feel a few others – best described as a “flash of orange with a few red polka dots,” “a slow crescendo of X-rays,” and “a flickering of warmth with a gesture of the two front digits,” that is to say, a slow strobe effect in the infrared while tapping the two front legs on the ground. Of course, the Scoopians had their own names for what they could see, but it was all in Scoopian, describing color by using color.
During all this time, which the Scoopians would later refer to as “orange-magenta, a color in the near ultraviolet (that usually went in tandem with orange), left front right rear foot tap,” roughly translated to “the Evolution,” the asteroid had gone into orbit around the great planet Earthlings call Neptune, although the Scoopians, in a rather complex display of colors, referred to it, more or less, as “Home.” The Scoopians, having grown quite a bit, were now quite crammed on their little asteroid and thus desired a bigger home. Color flashes debating reproduction were had, since a few Scoopians had felt an instinctual drive to sprout another head, but by mass majority it was determined that were any more Scoopians to populate the asteroid it might be hazardous to their health. Ergo, their biggest concern was finding somewhere where they could all spread out and sprout their multiple heads in peace.
One Scoopian day, the orbit of their little asteroid happened to draw near to the planet's largest moon. This did not go unnoticed by the inhabitants of the asteroid, and it was determined in several showings of bright white light that this was to be their new home, although even with two brains no Scoopian knew how to move their population from the asteroid to the moon. One Scoopian proposed the following: “Infrared, yellow cyan yellow, magenta gray ultraviolet. X-ray purple blue.” The other Scoopians flashed assent, and all began the effort of sprouting a second head. The prevailing thought was that two heads were better than one, and the addition of a third brain might present the solution to the Scoopian problem, even if it exacerbated it for a while. They could always throw a few of their runtier people into space should the need arise.
Second, and in some cases even third heads were sprouted. It was quickly discovered that the additional heads not only provided additional brainpower, but limited telepathy and telekinesis as well. With a great effort, requiring every Scoopian to concentrate, the little asteroid gently (although some of the mushroom growths became a little squished) landed on the largest moon of the azure gas giant, whereupon all of the new heads the Scoopians had sprouted promptly fell off, growing small legs and looking like diminutive, jellylike crabs.
Chapter One: Scoopia
The planet Scoopia, within the Soul Nebula, is an oddity. It is brilliant green, with shield volcanoes that extend deep into its interior and constantly spew jets of hydrocarbons (mostly liquid benzene), while at the same time smaller vents, that usually ringed these volcanoes, erupt odd purple spores that travel space extremely slowly and eventually bond to a small piece of dust, slowly increasing in size as it attaches to more dust. Usually these spores remain granular, but some get lucky and manage to collect a lot of dust, or attach to a stray asteroid or comet, proceeding to take it over and create a large purple rock or snowball. These purple oddities are prized by those who are fortunate enough to find them, and are widely considered to be the rarest objects in the galaxy. Of course, there are unscrupulous sorts who try to forge these objects by collecting spores and artificially attaching them to rocks, and they manage to hoodwink a fair share of unsuspecting space-farers, but any collector worth his salt has usually been deceived at least once, and knows a fake from an authentic piece. The absolute most valuable are those spores that grew large enough and spent enough time in space to mature and grow odd mushroom like organs, which for whatever reason only grow when the spore is untouched and in space. Some grew large, yet others remained miniature. Only three of these mature spores are known to exist in the entire galaxy. The mushroom-organs that they grow seem to be purely cosmetic, for they shed no spores of their own. It has been hypothesized that these purple objects are in fact the inhabitants of the planet Scoopia, forever doomed to wander the vastness of space, but no one really knows and the objects never say anything.
The asteroids that orbit in the star system of which Scoopia is a part of have notoriously unstable orbits, and unsurprisingly several leave the the system every Scoopian year, forging their own paths through interstellar space, never to return to the vicinity of Scoopia again. One in particular, having been taken over by the purple spores, flew off one day towards an unremarkable yellow dwarf star. Over millions of years, the star grew steadily brighter as the asteroid, long having since sprouted its mushroom-organs that now covered the metallic rock and in some cases even dwarfed it, headed steadily closer.
The asteroid approached the star on a trajectory that were it not for a meddling gas planet, would have sent it flying right back into interstellar space. Alas, however, the large, spherical gas bag could not do without the multi-million-year-old rarity, and captured it, leaving it in an orbit that showed off its other souvenirs. There were four really nice ones, large and grand. One was an extremely fine sight, an orange orb that, not unlike Scoopia itself, had constantly erupting volcanoes, except that they exploded with sulfur, not hydrocarbons. Another was shimmering white, coated completely in ice. Small imperfections creased it, which only added to the moon's beautiful effect. The two largest were rather dull, both highly pockmarked with craters. The gas planet probably only kept them around because one was big enough to be a planet in its own right, and the other was so smashed with impact craters it was remarkable that it had stayed together for the duration of its life.
The planet that held all these was quite the sight in its own right. Rather large for the solar system it occupied, but small compared to gas planets in other systems, it rotated extremely fast and was bound by large brown cloud belts in both hemispheres, the product of various circulation patterns within the giant planet. During the asteroid's stay, sometimes the belts would fade away, leaving white nothingness in its wake, only to reemerge within a short period of time. Storms formed and decayed, a rather noticeable one having done so and only ballooning in size, all while cycling through a remarkable palette of colors that ranged from pale orange to dark, ruddy brown. Small white anti-cyclonic systems formed as white ovals all over the planet.
The gas planet was an extremely strong radiation source, which fried any hope of the formation of life in its vicinity. Even the asteroid's proud mushrooms, which usually thrive in the harsh environment of space, did not like the constant barrage. Fortunately, the gas planet eventually got bored of its new toy, and after a few hundred years, flung it back into space, towards its parent star, and the mushroom growths were saved from a most horrible fate of slow withering.
The purple asteroid eventually began seeing some of its brethren, although they did not share its unique hue. Most were piles of drab gray rubble, although some were rather large, dwarfing the purple vagrant. The gas planet was but an extremely bright light at this point, and other planets were odd colored specks among the stars - there was a brilliant red one, another was deep azure. As the little mushroom coated asteroid drew closer to the star, another planet emerged from its glare, brilliant white. Other planets, far away, lay inconspicuously, unbeknownst to any observer unless there movements were observed. In some cases, they moved so slowly as to be imperceptible among the background stars.
Eventually, the asteroid drew so close to the star that its nuclear-fusion warmth began to tickle the mushroom growths on its surface. The organs, seemingly without purpose, began to slowly stir as if waking from a very long rest. In fact, it was more like birth in that they were waking for the first time. The growths began to move around on the asteroid's surface as a glacier does on Earth, that is to say, very very slowly. Despite having a very short period of time before the warmth disappeared, the growths managed to imbue the asteroid with their essence, best described as a dark gray slime, which came from the stem of the growths that would, in time, no matter where the asteroid was, grow into the otherwise unheard of Scoopian life forms.
Time passed, and soon the asteroid and its retinue of mushroom growths and primordial Scoopian slime were once again in the cold vastness of space. The growths stopped moving, and the slime settled into the crannies of the asteroid. The asteroid, slowly but surely, was moving towards a far planet of this system, still a dim, greyish-blue star among the others.
About ten years after the asteroid's passing of the dwarf star, the Scoopian slime slowly began to coalesce, clumping into small jellylike hemispheres. These slime-creatures moved towards the large mushroom growths, and began feeding on them. The growths were very large for the slime, and one large mushroom was able to satiate every slime creature on the asteroid enough for them to further grow. By this time the cold planet loomed ever brighter in the asteroid's path and the star behind them barely provided any heat or light.
After all the creatures had consumed one of the large mushrooms, they had grown to about the size of the smaller mushrooms. A primordial attraction sent each of the creatures towards a small mushroom, whereupon it was completely enveloped in the coherent gray ooze that made up the primitive Scoopians, and severed from its roots. The suspended mushroom and the ooze thus began a symbiotic relationship: the mushroom, using the choking ooze around it for nutrients, grew into a small nervous system, while the ooze, now benefiting from its internal mushroom's sprout which gave it rudimentary senses and brain, was able to somewhat comprehend its surroundings. The mushroom-based nervous system drove the Scoopians to the sunlit side of the asteroid.
Mushroom-based photosynthesis allowed the Scoopians to grow even more.
The asteroid still slowly approached the planet, now a delightful shade of blue.
The Scoopians grew further, and their nervous system developed in its complexity.
The large mushrooms on the asteroid remained, for the Scoopians were now one hundred percent solar powered.
The head of the mushroom in the Scoopian nervous system became the central processing unit of the Scoopian, acting as the primary brain. Of course, the original, small brain was still there. A Scoopian has two brains.
The ooze that the mushroom initially fed on slowly developed a thin yet sturdy film on its outside, similar to Earthling chewing gum that is extremely stretched out, as the asteroid continued to fall towards the large, cold, blue planet. Some of the roots of the Scoopian nervous system began to protrude outward, creating four legs for the Scoopian to stand on. They had no arms, but had three “eyes,” which resembled funnels more than anything, and had no means of absorbing or processing sound waves. Two of these eyes saw from the mid-infrared to about what humans perceive as the color purple. The third eye lay on the very top of their bodies, that usually stared straight up, but with some effort and the help of peripheral vision, could look straight ahead as well. This eye could see from the ultraviolet barely into the X-ray part of the spectrum.
The Scoopians were now becoming crowded on their small asteroid. Fortunately, the large planet was beginning to ensnare them in its gravity, pulling the Scoopians and their humble rock into orbit, where it would sit for quite a while. Eventually, the asteroid would draw close enough to the planet's largest moon, and the Scoopians would have an opportunity for a new home.
Thanks to their two brains, the Scoopians developed a means of communication rather quickly. They were able to shift colors, some of which are invisible to the human eye, at will, and using this ability in tandem with various movements of their legs, developed an extremely effective sort of language, which, courtesy of their multi-spectrum spanning eyes, were able to convey ideas in a manner far superior to any other.
In addition to the galactic standard emotions - “happy,” “sad,” “angry,” “indifferent,” and all in between, the Scoopians could feel a few others – best described as a “flash of orange with a few red polka dots,” “a slow crescendo of X-rays,” and “a flickering of warmth with a gesture of the two front digits,” that is to say, a slow strobe effect in the infrared while tapping the two front legs on the ground. Of course, the Scoopians had their own names for what they could see, but it was all in Scoopian, describing color by using color.
During all this time, which the Scoopians would later refer to as “orange-magenta, a color in the near ultraviolet (that usually went in tandem with orange), left front right rear foot tap,” roughly translated to “the Evolution,” the asteroid had gone into orbit around the great planet Earthlings call Neptune, although the Scoopians, in a rather complex display of colors, referred to it, more or less, as “Home.” The Scoopians, having grown quite a bit, were now quite crammed on their little asteroid and thus desired a bigger home. Color flashes debating reproduction were had, since a few Scoopians had felt an instinctual drive to sprout another head, but by mass majority it was determined that were any more Scoopians to populate the asteroid it might be hazardous to their health. Ergo, their biggest concern was finding somewhere where they could all spread out and sprout their multiple heads in peace.
One Scoopian day, the orbit of their little asteroid happened to draw near to the planet's largest moon. This did not go unnoticed by the inhabitants of the asteroid, and it was determined in several showings of bright white light that this was to be their new home, although even with two brains no Scoopian knew how to move their population from the asteroid to the moon. One Scoopian proposed the following: “Infrared, yellow cyan yellow, magenta gray ultraviolet. X-ray purple blue.” The other Scoopians flashed assent, and all began the effort of sprouting a second head. The prevailing thought was that two heads were better than one, and the addition of a third brain might present the solution to the Scoopian problem, even if it exacerbated it for a while. They could always throw a few of their runtier people into space should the need arise.
Second, and in some cases even third heads were sprouted. It was quickly discovered that the additional heads not only provided additional brainpower, but limited telepathy and telekinesis as well. With a great effort, requiring every Scoopian to concentrate, the little asteroid gently (although some of the mushroom growths became a little squished) landed on the largest moon of the azure gas giant, whereupon all of the new heads the Scoopians had sprouted promptly fell off, growing small legs and looking like diminutive, jellylike crabs.
Comments
The videocassette should never have become obsolete if only for the fact that they brought time travel to the consumer in a way their optical successors never could. Speeding up the reel of tape in any given direction sent the characters in motion at ridiculous rates- Bruce Willis waving huge torches far too fast for his strength to allow as a plane hurtles through the snow at supersonic speeds and smashes into the runway in a quick artificial explosion. Then back again! Out of the fire a plane is born, pushing itself backwards through the air as Bruce gives it a happy sendoff into the snowstorm with his giant brands.
The flow of Time in the universe and the events that it spawns are but the byproducts of an arbitrary videotape. The few blessed enough to be able to watch this tape have long since fast forwarded to the end, and know all that will happen and all that will ever exist.
If one were to view the planet Sol 3, better known as Earth, on this great celestial videocassette, it would be a long movie with a rather exciting beginning which quickly drops off into monotony. Perhaps it would start as a rather black sphere with fiery red glows here and there, heat from its creation dotted with a few angry orange scars from lesser bodies stupid enough to challenge the great fiery sphere. Fast forward a bit and another great sphere, slightly smaller than the one the tape is focusing on, in a fit of immaturity, decides to attempt to knock its larger brother out. It is completely destroyed and the larger sphere, devastated from the attack, is now two. Fast forward and the two new brothers slowly grow apart, the smaller of the two slowly moving away from its sibling. Every so often a large comet or asteroid smacks into one or the other, although unfortunately the younger brother seems to get beat up far more often. Eventually, as the tape continues to fast forward, the larger, older brother turns from a cruel shade of black and red into green and indigo. Its younger brother turns an ashen shade of gray and white, although it still retains some subtle colors, visible only to those with the most sensitive eyes. Large green land masses on the older of the brothers shift around on its body, dotted every so often with a fiery crater. Periodically extremely large impacts reshape the face of the
planet. About halfway through the video the night side of the planet becomes dotted with a latticework of light, soon followed by periodic great fireballs, atomic in nature, which appear at about the same time great metallic creatures begin leaping off of the planet. A few head towards its younger brother. Some head towards other planets in the system, but most stay clustered around their home. Several begin to form a ring around the planet, each one never straying from its location. The atomic fireballs die off for a while, but soon return, centered on the places that shine the brightest on the night side of the planet. Eventually, the once beautiful azure tint of the planet disappears as the great oceans boil away, enshrouding the planet in a suffocating cloud cover as a runaway greenhouse effect fries the few cockroaches left. It is all then melted into slag and consumed by an angry red star.
If one were to view the planet Sol 4, better known as Mars, on this great celestial videocassette, it would be far more straightforward than that of Sol 3. It would start out magnificently. The viewer would see rusted iron continents among great oceans. An asteroid would attempt to reshape the planet's paradise, but Sol 4 is a benevolent planet, and instead of vaporizing the upstart rock by letting it impact, it merely keeps it as a pet. It repeats this with a second wayward asteroid. As its parent star calms down from the incredible fury of its creation, Sol 4 slowly becomes doomed to forever be an inhospitable iron desert. Its atmosphere slowly sublimates into two large ice caps. As the planet's protective shroud disappears, its once proud oceans boil off into the vastness of space. A few metallic creatures from Sol 3 visit the iron desert. There is much to learn, yet they barely penetrate the rusted planet's secrets. Many succumb to the inhospitable environment. Soon there are no more of these creatures. The smallest asteroid orbiting Sol 4 eventually draws too close to its master and undergoes death by fragmentation, but in its afterlife it forms a delicate ring around the planet. As the star that first gave Sol 4 beauty and then desolation begins to die, it once again warms Sol 4. The ice caps permanently evaporate. Then once again, as the star contracts in its death throes to a tiny white dwarf, Sol 4 is a frozen desert once again.
The celestial videotape of Sol 8, also known as Neptune, is a strange one, for it was not always the eighth planet in the system. Upon its formation, it would have been named Sol 7. As the tape fast forwards, however, the viewer sees it slowly migrate outwards, becoming Sol 8, the outermost sentinel of the planetary system. A large body from the large extended disk of planetoids happens to cross its path. Sol 8 takes it. A smaller moon draws too close to the planet and fragments into delicate rings. Out of nowhere, a small purple anomaly of an asteroid with odd mushrooms on it draws near to the large captured moon. Several gray blobs colonize the moon, rapidly terraforming it and evolving just as quickly. Not soon after their arrival some begin to resemble odd scorpions. Their offspring take a very long time to grow into an adult. A schism develops between the two. The more diminutive of the creatures leave the large moon in favor of a smaller one and build biomechanical rocket batteries on it. They demand equal status to their parents or else they would be shelled into oblivion. No response is given, and the larger moon is bombed with large green fruits that explode with the equivalent of a few tons of TNT. Upon this, the large moon sprouts a single large cannon, with large orange vines anchoring it to the ground. A message is duly broadcast to the small blobs in brilliant lights that they can have two orbits of their moon to leave before they are shelled into oblivion. A few of the smarter ones plant a seed in the soil of their moon, which quickly grows into a yellow flying saucer. They depart for Titan, the largest moon of Sol 6, just as the great cannon on Sol 8's largest moon begins firing its barrage of death, and upon their exodus are never heard from again. The smaller moon simply becomes gossamer in the rings of Sol 8. The scorpion-like creatures dismantle the gun and throw it into orbit where it will eventually burn up in the atmosphere of the great planet. After this unpleasant chapter in their history, they depart on several large mushroom growths for the clouds of Sol 8, where the mushrooms, fertilized by the ammonia and methane circulating within the planet, grow into great cities, hubs of learning and information the likes of which were incomprehensible to many of their visitors. The creatures depart for destinations unknown long before their parent star bloats up and dies, but not before being paid a visit by the bipeds from Sol 3, who had sent a messenger made of metal many years before.