Trinity RPG - Tales From Eden: Solar Nativity

[GDP_ST]

22:50 hours, August 3rd, 2122

The small yellow sun that shed its life-giving light on the third planet of the Sol System was unexplorable to humankind. The closest they could come was estimation of its temperature, prediction of its solar weather patterns. Having categorised it as 'unexplorable', the vast majority of humankind decided that it was of no further interest, and so the powers that be quietly gave modest funds to stellar scientists and thought no more about it.

Tokiro Ashawa opened his sleep-gummed eyes at the insistent beeping from his monitors. The young PhD had the exciting (to him) task of keeping tabs on the Sun's surface, trying with reasonable success to predict the various sunstorms and coronas that could occasionally disrupt communications even now, in the 22nd Century.

"What's this?" He mused, leaning close to peer at the screen. He quickly placed a call to his superior, the man's avatar appearing on top of the young man's cluttered desk.

"What is it, Ashawa?" His boss was grumpy, and as Ashawa glanced at the time display on the monitor and realised it was 2am, understandably so. The avatar gave no indication of lack of sleep or preparedness, appearing as a smart man in a business suit, but Ashawa knew his 67 year old boss was rumpled and lying in bed speaking to him.

"We have a strange signal from MercurySat 4, Chief Scientist. Apparently sector 23.791 of Sol is undergoing some sort of strange activity.

There was a long pause, and the older scientist's voice, when it came, was subtly strained with excitement. "Sector 23.791? Are you sure?"

What the hell kind of question was that? thought Ashawa, but he said "Quite sure sir. I double checked just now. We seem to be seeing a strange energy pattern in the Sun's surface, and I've never even heard of this configuration before." The young scientist's eyes widened as a terrifying thought struck him, his gaze locked on the screen's energy readings. "Boss! Do you think this might be the Big One? But... but our projections?!"

"Relax, Ashawa!" The older man barked "Don't be a fool. This is something I've waited half a century to see, ever since I was a boy. It'll be important, but hardly worthy of panic."

Ashawa looked quizzically at the avatar of his boss, trying to read something from the electronic expression, but the representation of the old black man was stoic.

"Alright sir. Are you coming in? I'd appreciate knowing what this is about." The avatar on his desk smiled.

"I'm coming in now, Ashawa. This moment is the reason I'm in this job. We're going to see something wonderful, my boy. Something truly wonderful. And I'll tell you about my grandfather and his friend, and then you'll understand."

"Um, I know the story sir. You told me already, remember? When you were interviewing me and wanted to make sure I wasn't a mindless bigot." Ashawa smiled at the older man's avatar in a friendly fashion. "I know your grandfather was a good friend to an ab- I mean, to a nova, sorry. You hear that word so much it gets to you, Professor."

"It's alright, Ashawa my boy. I forgive you. But there is more to the story than I first told. The nova called Chaka didn't disappear altogether. He stayed around, in a different guise. But I'll explain fully when I'm there. The story is too long for an Opnet call."

"Thank you, sir." the younger scientist said gratefully. "I won't betray your trust in me. I'm fascinated by these tales: they're so different from what mainstream history teaches. I'll keep quiet about whatever you tell me."

"I know, Ashawa." Professor Newant M'Beki told his protege. "I know."

,,

* * * * * *

22:51 hrs, August 3rd, 2122

The heart of a star. The heart of Creation. The man-sized shell of bright solar fire drifted in the flows of the Sun's surface as it had for over 60 years. Minute gravitational fluxes had kept it in place, and to all intents and purposes it had been part of the star to any onlookers.

But not now.

Pulses of energy wreathed out over the surrounding area, gathering light and heat into the cocoon of light. Inside, movement could be seen, vague shapes against the eye-searing brightness of the backdrop.

A consciousness was awakening. It had no name at present. It was creation and heat, it was power and might, it was a child of the universe. Then 'it' became 'I', and the 'I' thought, rather than dreamed, for the first time in decades.

I am... Awareness of the soothing fires of the Sun outside his Chrysalis. Feel of renewal, of rebirth. Muscles strong enough to lift a mountain flexed rhythmically, fingers strong enough to bend carbon-steel clenched, then unclenched; testing, wondering.

How long...? Memories of old friends, old loves. Wakinyan. Thoughtwave. Samhra. Violet. How many left? How many died?

Memories of war, horrible war. Friends becoming enemies, enemies becoming friends. Madness and terror inflicted on the deserving and undeserving alike. No justice. No point. Fear and stupidity. We were supposed to be superior! Not to fall victim to the same retarded thinking as the baselines!

Anger flows, sadness flows. He had to come here, 63 years ago. He had to. He couldn't leave the Solar System. It was his home back then, even if Earth was not. Now, he wasn't so sure.

A name...? He had had a few, he knew. But now he was just...

Procyon. And he awoke.

[GDP_ST]

He emerged from the cocoon, stretching out limbs that seemed to be made of blazing gold as the energies of his Chrysalis clung in tatters to his frame. He soared effortlessly away from the roiling plasma that had kept him safe and shielded for decades, the caress of the Sun's flares a whisper on his skin: a final embrace from a lover, a mother, a friend. Eyes that once shone and twinkled like gentle sapphires were blazing azure stars, their fire as indomitable as any celestial body as they looked up into the void, piercing the vast distances as though moving aside a gossamer curtain, fixing on a small blue planet. He spoke without speaking, a rich, thrumming baritone that crossed space in an eyeblink. A voice that was clearly heard by those it was directed to, and felt by many it was not.

*I am coming to you. My friends. My children. As I promised long ago, I am coming for those I left behind. Aeon knows I am coming, but they or their puppets cannot stop me from completing my vow.*

Such was the power in his 'voice' it reached across light-years, his words seeking out familiar ears. Some stopped, shocked beyond reckoning to hear that self-assured voice again. It brought up memories, feelings and emotions thought long lost. Some were worried. Others were exultant. And one, who had been listening ever since she had felt the cracking of the cocoon, smiled.

The fiery energy of his Chrysalis now re-absorbed into his form, the nova reached into himself as he flew and pushed.

He disappeared in a streak of golden light.

***************

"Why in the name of all that is fucking unholy DIDN'T the clairsentients get a tickle from THIS?!" The Legion commander on the orbital defense platform demanded as he leaned over the scanner console. The technician knew this was a rhetorical question, and certainly not one the commander would be expecting him to answer, so he kept quiet. The two Legionnaires behind him, the station commander and his first officer, were both looking at the satellite feed with fixed glares, as if they could alter the events transpiring on the Sun's surface through sheer denial.

"Sir!" A communications officer rushed up, handing an electronic message pad to his superior. The commander scowled at it, then stomped over to the comms desk.

"This for real?" The burly Legionnaire growled, waving the pad at the senior communications officer. The comms officer just nodded, his expression stoic. "Fucking, bloody hell!" The commander's shout echoed through the command center.

"Sir?" The first officer came over, concerned. He'd never seen the C.O so... disturbed.

"It appears we have an exodus going on below, Major. About one thousand people have all walked away from their jobs and picked up their families, and they're heading to Africa, of all godforsaken places. The Ministry is trying to find out what's going on, but all they can get is a feeling of joy and expectation. So we have about five thousand good, upstanding citizens who Aeon believes may be linked to this Aberrant's appearance heading towards Mount Kilamanjaro." The major blinked in astonishment.

"So they're cultists, sir. Let's round 'em up and let the brain-doctors sort them out-" The major stopped as the commander raised a hand.

"It's not that easy, major. The Society says that if we interfere, we could set off a catastrophe that makes the Esperanza look like a late-night brawl outside a bar. Y'see, they've got a positive ident on the Abbie in question." With that, the commander handed his aide the message pad. The major's eyes flicked down the terse report, fixing on a single name with a chill of horror that reminded him of the first time he'd faced an Aberrant in combat.

"Him!? Oh, shit... Sorry sir." The major apologised, but his commander shook his head.

"No need to apologise, son. 'Oh shit' covers it pretty well. Aeon's one hundred percent certain that if we harm it's little followers, our friend there might just lose it's temper. And given what this Abbie was rumoured to be like before it's disappearance..." The commander sighed resignedly. "I think that's something we need to avoid. Much as it goes against my instincts to let an Abbie pass unmolested, that's what the people in charge are asking for now. Let's set up some measures, though. The all-knowing Society might be confident it's not staying, but lets be ready in case it changes it's tainted little mind. I want a perimeter five hundred miles out from Kilamanjaro. Intel, what the hell is at Kilamanjaro, anyway? Why there?" The Commander barked this last at his intelligence officer, who shrugged as he looked over the lines of scrolling information on his screen.

"Looks like the only thing there is a memorial on the peak, sir. Two graves and a bunch of polished rocks that date back to pre-Crash. The land is actually privately owned, belonging to a large family of African descent who've kept it for a few generations." The Intel officer shrugged again. "No clue why the Aberrant would be making for there. Of course, we're assuming that it's heading there because all those people are..."

"It's going there, all right." The Commander said grimly. "I've got a hunch I'd bet against any pre-cog. Major, get that Legion perimeter in place, and get as much support from Proteus as you can. If that thing plans on sacrificing a bunch of human beings, willing or not, we ARE going to stop it. Oh, and Intel? I'll bet you beer for a year that the owners of that land are amongst the happy pilgrims currently making their way there. Goddamned Aberrant cultist freaks. Weps, get the OMEN sats spun up to readiness and targetted on Kilamanjaro. If that thing starts a fight, I'll finish it even if I have to make a sand trap out of that mountain."

As the command center sprung into life, the chatter of voices rising as the professionals aboard went into much-rehearsed drills, the Commander stalked back over to the scanner operators. "Now, why don't you boys tell me where that freak of nature is?"

The two operators were sitting bolt upright, their eyes not on the scanner boards, but rather on the viewport before them. Voice quavering, one raised a finger and pointed in answer to the Commander's question. "R-right there, s-sir."

*******************************************

He danced and spun in an orbital path around the world which gave him life, a bronzed humanoid figure whose skin was highlighted with streaks of blazing golden fire, his aura roiling as though he was robed in the Sun itself. Nimbii of light played around his perfect body as he soared through orbital space around the beautiful blue planet below. He heard transmissions, the chatter of excited and fearful humanity as they witnessed his arrival. Small craft buzzed around the defensive satellites, fighter craft whose pilots continually reported that they had the Aberrant in their sights, and were just as continually told to hold fire.

Procyon soared past the largest orbital platform, his fiery blue eyes picking out three shocked faces regarding him from the large viewport. With a silent laugh, he spun in space and waved to the human observers, not knowing whether to be amused or saddened at their terrified reactions. The nova sighed and drifted away, continuing his orbit of the planet he had once called home.

It will always be where I was born, where I grew up. But it is not mine anymore. The thought, which would have once engendered anger, now caused nothing but slight sadness in the incandescant heart of the nova. Turning away from the regrets of the past, he tapped once more into the human communications and, hearing reports of the exodus below, was pleased. Estimating that they needed perhaps another hour to congregate, the golden figure continued to orbit the world below, examining it one last time, holding it in his heart.