Ares Chronicles: Amaronian Chronicles: Part 1

(Note: This is not in the Ares universe. I am currently working on a TC for Ares, and this is Part 1 of the storyline. It might not make sense at first, but it will, later on.)

500 years before the construction of the U. N. S. Ares...

Birds twittered, plants bloomed, and the people were having a great time. This...was Amaron. A peaceful world with lush vegetation and a cheerful atmosphere. A world much like Earth. The inhabitants of this world were very primitive, but they seem to live with it fine. The Amaronians were playful, carefree, and very good-natured. But, an event took place that changed Amaron completely, metamorphosing it into a totally hostile planet. What could possibly have done this?

200 years before the construction of the U. N. S. Ares...

A great cataclysm quaked the Amaronian planet. The entire planet seemed to tremble with fear.
"What happened?" Frantic shouting could be heard and people could be seen running around, their large, magenta eyes glittering with anxiety.
The answer was on a sharp, rocky cliff. A strange, lopsided ship was embedded into the side of this cliff, and there were dents in the ship that indicated that it was beaten up quite badly.
"An alien ship, I assume," said one of the Amaronians.
There were no signs of life on the ship. However, one little organism did come out of that ship. It was slithering around the ship, obviously lost.

350 years after the launch of the U. N. S. Ares...

"Tharris Starbase. Do you read me?" asked Admiral Samsa.
"Loud and clear. What's the news?"
"I have discovered that one of my crewmen, Hr'asaam, was missing! According to my calculations, he is now in Amaron," Samsa was starting to get worried. "He drifted off in one of our fighters...and that fighter was the one that was carrying all of our information and blueprints! We must go and retrieve it!"
• • • • • • • • •
Frightened screaming and angry shouting rocked the Amaronian planet. The usually cheerful people had turned into a raging, cavorting melee. Anger replaced the usual happiness, and people were being trampled.
In a small hut, an Amaronian and his father were discussing, while the battle raged outside the flimsy walls. "Yes?" said the father.
"What is going on? I don't want to die," said the Amaronian. His name was La'harrh. "I don't want the world to be destroyed."
"Son, you don't understand. You are too young to be learning such things."
"No! I am not going to be standing here and taking all the pain. I want the people to stop." protested La'harrh.
"Son, people think differently, you know. Some people want to be just the way they are. Cheerful, carefree, and full of joy. But, some want to be violent. Ruthless, cruel, right down to the very center of their hearts. Rotten to the core. I think something just triggered their violence. I don't know what happened to those people out there. But I do know how you feel. I also want to stay this way."
His father paused, and La'harrh replied with a simple, "I don't want to die."
The words hung in midair, so simple, yet so powerful. So powerful, so emotional, that even the shouting seemed to ebb away.
La'harrh's father closed his eyes. He remembered when he was a child, playful and carefree, running around in the fields. His memory was vague, yet he could uncover those wonderful images of childhood.
"Sometimes I wish I could go back in time..." La'harrh said dreamily.
His father said, "Hold on to yourself. Hold on, never let go, like the others did. If you ever do let go, you would drift in space, out into the abyss, like the others. Violence is like a black hole. It sucks up your heart and soul, and you become a completely hollow shell, so empty, so emotionless. It is hard to resist violence.
"Well, son, I think you should go rest now. You've been through too much already."
• • • • • • • • •
Day after day, night after night, the shouting continued. Gradually, things changed. The humble, primitive towns became advanced, bustling cities. Technology was escalating rapidly. New, sophisticated shipyard facilities developed.
It looked as though people are preparing themselves for war!
• • • • • • • • •
"Admiral Samsa, come in, please!" the intercom blared.
"Samsa here."
"We are now going to depart."
"Why so?"
"We are planning on a rescue mission. Hr'asaam is one of us. You can't afford losing more and more of your crew, can you? We are also searching for his fighter. So, are you in for the mission?"
"Mission accepted. We will launch at 0600." There was a pause at the other end. Then, angry shouting. "That was an order! Not a suggestion!"
Samsa looked in the mirror. He still hadn't had the hang of this new body yet. It was strangely unfamiliar to him. The jelly-like clusters of beady green eyes, the long, flexible tail, and the multi-jointed fingers. "Heh heh heh... Nice... I love it, I love it, I love it! Ha, ha! Just what I needed! A new host body! That last one of mine was unworthy and useless. Now, we're talking!" He laughed to himself.
Samsa groomed himself, and ate a quick meal.
He prepared his crew. "Amaron, here we come!"
The whirring of the engines could be audible from the launch dock. It gradually got louder and louder. The engines whirred ever louder as the ships started to move. They streaked across the darkness like a beam of light. Soon, they were gone.

(This message has been edited by Laguna (edited 05-26-2002).)

Violence is one of the more constructive processes the human organism can partake in. The pretext for violence is an inadequacy in the current situation. Thus, the change must often be forced. Ruthlessness is a necessary handle for the creation of new change - violence.

Lack of violence is lack of change. Thus, stagnation sets in. This is why peace must be avoided at all costs if you wish to create change. I endorce violence, war, and hatred, even partake in it. Merely because I know this is the path towards change - as long as many other paths that I take. To harangue violence is silly, the capacity for death and destruction is the reason why the human organism is so dominant, intelligent, has so much capacity.

Oh, nice story, if a bit confusing. Your skill with words is superior to mine, but you don't lay the background enough and your pretext is a bit flimsy.

There are only 3 kinds of people: those who can count, and those who can't.