The Jemloran Premises

Taken from the personal log of Rahkan Cerirak-Biologist.

Galactic Date: 90032.44.37

Current Planetary Cycle 8.46.86

The Jemloran Premises are wrong and I need to prove it.

Premise number 1-The intelligent species that once populated this planet have long gone extinct.

The remnants of their technology can be found at many different archaeological sites. Once a star begins to expand, it disrupts the rotation of all its planetary objects, pulling each planet’s more massively loaded side towards the star’s gravitational centre. This causes planets to day-lock, a drastic shifting of the axis of rotation causing permanent day with no night. Day-locked planets are what we require for our existence, and the premise implies that once a planet has day-locked, its inhabitants can no longer thrive. They either become extinct or if they are intelligent, they evacuate.

Premise number 2-All the remaining creatures on the planet exist only to feed the thousand.

Any species rugged enough to survive the axial tilt must be very primitive in nature, lacking the basic cognitive reasoning and societal structure required for them to evacuate the plant. The carbon-based life forms of this planet are an excellent source of fluids and although we are encouraged to hunt sustainably, there are no actual restrictions on our hunting. There is no need to preserve any species as the planet is doomed.

Premise 3 - Planets of dying suns are ours for the taking.

There are no galactic laws in place to protect a dying planet. Scientists speculate that this planet, with its slowly expanding sun and day-locked axis, will last no more than a thousand solar cycles. They are already searching this galaxy for the next habitable planet orbiting its dying sun. I am relieved that I won’t be required to make another space crossing. That will be a problem for my descendants or their descendants to endure.

Why do I consider that these premises are wrong? I met an inhabitant, and it was nothing like we have been led to believe.

***

Walking through the ruins of the archaic civilisation that had once inhabited this planet, I admire the architecture. Square, sparse, strong lines that indicate a geometric precision and attention to detail that is truly impressive. Within the maze created by the tall, looming structures, I always ensure that I do not step into the shadows they cast. I carefully walk in the middle of what must have once been some sort of thoroughfare, judging by the density and texture of the surface.

Most of my species shy away from these tall, well-built areas, for fear of the shadow they cast. With the large red sun hanging permanently overhead, there is not too much risk. The planet has almost come to a total day-lock and thus the shadowed areas remain fixed in place.

For my people, light is life. Our bodies, covered in plate scales, are designed to soak up every ray, every hue of the light spectrum. This initiates a transmutation of the toxic biochemical, biiexien, that builds up in our system into harmless waste products. Without light, the biiexien rapidly accumulates, unleashing a series of detrimental effects on our cellular integrity and metabolic functions. Our cells, frantic to restore balance, resort to desperate measures, triggering a volatile chain reaction we call “bioluminescent combustion.” In short, we burn up from within. It’s enough of a deterrent for most of my kind to avoid darkness, and to stay well away from anything that might cast a shadow. We wear light-crystals to protect against unforeseen darkness, but they offer limited protection and cause a false sense of security, merely a fleeting illusion of safety in a world where light is both saviour and judge.

As I walk, the heat radiates up from the hard, black surface in a pleasant burn and I enjoy the warmth through the soles of my feet. An unusual quiver in the tall vegetation that grows in strange, unnaturally straight rows catches my attention.

“Most peculiar,” I mutter to myself and alter my direction to investigate the strange phenomenon.

From within the branches a soft face peers back at me, wide, wild eyes fixated on me with unblinking intensity. I did not realise that the predominant bipedal species of this planet inhabited the vegetation. Usually they scurry into their subterranean burrows. This creature excites my curiosity. I am a biologist and I find the diversity of life forms on this doomed planet fascinating.

“Greetings, little critter. Why are you up there?” I enquire, but it does not respond or visibly react. I have noticed that many of the inhabitants of this planet exhibit the same freeze response when startled. It makes hunting them much less engaging. The pounding of the critter’s heart visibly shakes the foliage in a rapid, regular pulse. “Do not fear, little beast. I am not hungry and will not harm you.”

“Rahkan, with whom do you communicate?” The voice belongs to Solkair, my nest-mate, and I suppress my instinctual response. Solkair is arrogant and obnoxious, deriving pleasure from exploiting the perceived weakness in others. I have learned to be cautious, concealing any emotional reaction in their presence. “Have you cornered your prey in the shadows? Are you now afraid of the darkness? Here, let me help you,” Solkair taunts, interpreting my hesitation as vulnerability. With a sense of superiority they stride into the shade cast by the towering vegetation.

The frightened creature huddled among the branches launches a primitive but effective attack. To my surprise, I realise that the little creature has carried wet soil with it, using it to hurl two tightly packed projectiles directly at Solkair with remarkable precision. Rather than aiming for their head, the creature targets the light-crystals fixed on Solkair’s harness. Darkness swiftly consumes Solkair and I flinch at the cry of agony that escapes them as they flounder and thrash in the shadows, collapsing face first to the ground. 

The two light-crystals on Solkair’s back emit enough illumination to facilitate their body’s regeneration, prompting a decisive realisation within me. This planet would be better off without Solkair’s presence. The overhanging foliage bears globular, orange fruit, and I pluck two of them. Following the little creature’s example, I hurl them at the remaining light-crystals on Solkair’s exposed back. Without the light, Solkair’s cellular structure collapses instantly. Perhaps their demise was swifter than they deserved.

The little creature in the tree eyes me warily. It is now weaponless and vulnerable. Perhaps it would feel more secure if it had something to defend itself with. I pluck a fruit and toss it gently towards the creature, but it is clumsy and uncoordinated, dropping the fruit to the ground.

“So you can throw, but cannot catch. Perhaps you need some light.” I tear a light-crystal from my harness and toss it towards the creature. This time, it clutches at the stone, snatching it out of the air with such accuracy and dexterity that I am impressed.

These creatures need light to see, I realise, just as we do, yet from my observations, they scuttle into subterranean dark tunnels. That puzzles me. Have they developed this way of living in response to our presence? Have they adapted to the threat our species poses in order to survive? Surely this would indicate a level of awareness and intelligence that the Jemlorian Premises do not account for.

I gesture to the corpse of Solkair, then point to my remaining light-crystal. The creature responds, cautiously creeping down the vertical stem of the vegetation towards the now smoldering remains. It carefully removes the stones, unaffected by the intense heat, never taking its eyes from me. Once it has all four crystals, it offers one to me. I notice the trembling of its limb, yet the creature shows courage and more honour than any other species I have encountered. Honour and courage imply awareness and intelligence. I wonder if this species has the capacity for language. Can it communicate?

I point to my remaining crystal, then point to the one in the creature’s hand. “You may keep them.”

It responds, copying my gestures, almost as if it is asking for clarification. I tilt my head downwards. It is a universally accepted gesture of affirmation. The little creature clutches the crystals to its chest, the light emanating from them reflecting in its wide eyes. I believe it understands me.

I turn and walk away. I have much to think about. Everything that we believe about this planet is wrong. There is an intelligent species left here. But just how intelligent can they be? Why did they not flee this planet when the sun began to go supernova? I am left with many more questions to ponder.