Sabathe Intro and Chapter 1

Sabathe

Jameson McConnell

I first stumbled upon these magical creatures during my voyage on which I skirted the edges of the Sarbiki rock formations. Loose bits of stone covered the ground. The vegetation underneath had long been forgotten. The zelbs possess an intelligence beyond that which is known of any other creature. They bear a slight resemblance to the earth jellyfish, but without the painful appendage. They also communicate through various types of sound waves produced by rubbing two carefully selected sunstones together.

I, Lieutenant Aldo of Gathia, 1st Planetary Space Defense Force, write these words with great appreciation for those I have met on my journey through the harsh trials brought upon by the poisoning of the planet's atmosphere. The zelb's purpose still somewhat remains a mystery.

I write with a sense of bittersweet remembrance for those whose bravery during this time was unlike anything I could have imagined.

As my time on lovely Sabathe grows limited, I have been instructed by the Royal Keepers to compose this account. Nearing 300 years old now, I have never seen an event marked by such bravery and vile contradiction of instinct in the same moment in time. I want to mention a few names that shall go down in history as the bravest and strongest citizens of our lovely planet Sabathe. Zilba of the Ridon Clan, a being of courage and special growth, takes great responsibility in this list alongside his sister Tanglia. Others include Captain Bimith of the 3rd planetary defense peacekeeping force, Gadi of Stransar, and Mother Ridon with her wise council on the pressing issues of Sabathe's phase of rebirth.

We shall begin our story at the commencement of the Celebration of Sabathe. A great festival held every one hundred suns in the city of Stransar to honor the bravery of its founders, the celebration was in full swing. Large family units made their way in and out of the city walls at a rate rarely seen in most Sabathian societies. The festivities were wholly enjoyed by virtually all in attendance, when the first poor soul to be affected by the Dust fell to the ground and died after a few fits and spurts. It soon became very clear that many other attendees would meet the same fate, and once this realization had come across the masses, total panic ensued. An attempt was made to evacuate the festival and direct attendees to the nearest shelters, but it was to no avail. The Dust was doing what it had appeared to do.

Roughly every 722 sun cycles, powerful atmospheric storms pulled charged particles from specific guarded reservoirs into the air which suffocated any poor soul to inhale even small amounts of the substance. Most clans were very large, and reproduction among most Sabathian biological forms was very high. A means of population control, built into the Sabathian ecosystem, seemed to be a clear explanation of the phenomenon.

Another curious aspect of these times is the sheer denial of the inevitable, the unwillingness to accept the slim chances of survival in most population centers on the planet. Intuition tells me that this is merely a way of going about life in the face of Sabathe's cruel hand. The simple fact that I now write this history lends credence to this idea, the idea that this denial leads to forgetfulness. I, Aldo of Gathia, vow to do everything in my power to ensure this message does not go unheard by future generations.

Chapter 1: Escape

It was a cloud of chaos and confusion. Zilba of Ridon and Tangli of Ridon, his sister, fled the festival into the jagged rock formations leading out of the valley. These formations assembled themselves into mountains with fractal precision. The mountains lay in the foreground of an elaborate tableau of vegetation, mountains, and a raspberry sky. Shocked with urgency, Tangli and Zilba made their way up to a jagged peak and rested there momentarily, contemplating what to do next.

"Where is mother?" exclaimed Tanglia.

"I'm not sure, but we've no time to think about that right now," said Zilba.

Zilba suddenly remembered the respirators that Mother Ridon had provided him and his sister. He promptly instructed Tanglia to take hers out of her pack. Zilba soon did the same and put it on after assisting his sister. The respirators would buy them a little bit of time, but they would soon get clogged if they didn't get moving.

"Come on, we have to keep moving," said Zilba. "Our respirators won't hold up for too much longer."

The pair of siblings continued their trek, starting on a path leading up to a higher peak. Zilba was exhausted already, and judging from her facial expression, Tanglia was as well. During this trek, Tanglia thought of a particular family conversation over dinner a number of suns prior.

"When will the dust occur?" asked Tanglia. The minds of her family members were jerked away from their meals and blank stares formed on their tired faces.

"Will the Celebration of Stransar be canceled?"

"Nonsense," said Mother Ridon. "It is a long-standing tradition in this region. We cannot allow ourselves to be distracted by such matters during a ritual like this."

The blank stares on the faces lingered for a few uncomfortable minutes. The mental division was present, and the ever-present knowledge that nothing could be done hovered violently above the modestly-sized dining table.

"Well, I suppose we should prepare for tomorrow."

Mother Ridon excused herself from the table and entered the meditation chamber. The silence at the table continued for several agonizing beats and Zilba spoke up:

"Come on, we need to prepare for the celebrations."

The night dragged on at a tempo both slow and fast. There was a tremendous sense of peace masking the mortal terror. Zilba of Ridon slept with more blankets than usual in a desperate attempt to stare off the sharp dread he felt deep within himself. It seemed he felt every emotion at once. In spite of this, he managed a few hours of deep rest.

He dreamt.

It was a gorgeous tableau with two brilliant suns setting against the backdrop of a raspberry sky. A creature approached him, seemingly emerging from between the suns. A creature so marvelous in simplicity, yet holding infinite wisdom. It drifted along the gentle air currents and made its way directly in front of Zilba. He reached out to touch it. He heard his mother's voice, but he couldn't quite make out the words. The creature enclosed him and he felt a feeling unlike any he had felt before.

The suns set and it grew dark. It was only Zilba enclosed in the membrane of this magnificent creature with his mother's indescribable speech.

He awoke.

Dawn came like a speeding laser-guided tram. In a few hours, a natural phenomenon of proportions unseen for generations would occur.

The Ridon clan made their way to the center of the village and passed the festival gates with calm and collected expressions on their faces. There is nothing that can be done. The predictions of atmospheric conditions were as certain as they could be with the latest, most advanced weather-monitoring technology.

The festival was in full swing. Children ran and laughter filled the mid-sun air. Festival goers participated in a symphony of rituals, giving thanks to those who came before. The first settlers of planet Sabathe are among them, as well as several key figures in the Planetary Space Defense Force throughout its many incarnations.

The celebrations went on into the early evening. Then, the dust came. The festival became full of panic and confusion as the thousands of attendees looked for an exit. One dropped, then two, then ten. Zilba had to escape. He had to get his sister out.

"Tanglia, stay with me!" shouted Zilba.

The pair of siblings ran for the perimeter, which luckily for them, was not far away. They made it over the wall, and ran for a forested area on the horizon. The two stayed mostly silent as they ran for their lives. After what seemed like several suns, the siblings made it into the woods and caught their breath next to a rock formation.

"Where are Mother and Father?" asked Tanglia.

Zilba was too tired to think and collapsed on the ground.