The Astralaceaes

Chapter 5: Belly of the Beast

Stumbling over a newly grown root, Haledon chased after Sparrow. He could feel his stomach twisting and knotting anxiously with each step.

"We're going on your ship?" He asked before passing through the grass veil.

They both emerged into the chaotic corridor. Witch-Hazel was gone, having disappeared into the ship, while dozens more Earth Druids had filtered into the crowd.

Scattered amongst the sea of faces, Haledon saw more of the Astralaceae crew with SOIL suits. Each Druid he saw, itching at their various limbs, sent a crawling sensation through him, and he began to scratch at his shoulder.

"Technically—Stop that." Sparrow slapped Haledon's hand painfully hard.

"Ow—hey!" He hissed.

"You're going to kill yourself."

"What?" Haledon stopped walking. "I thought Witch-Hazel was bending my branch."

Sparrow continued forward, seeming to ignore him. With a sigh, Haledon fought the urge to scratch as he trotted to catch up.

"...autoimmune response and the suit may reject you. As such, you will die." Sparrow finished saying as he approached.

"What? You left me behind. I missed that."

"On Earth, a reindeer calf can run within ninety minutes of birth. Keep up, Seral Druid Haledon." Sparrow snapped.

Mumbling to himself, Haledon quickened his step to maintain pace with her. He followed in silence for a while before again speaking up.

"So...why will the suit kill me?" He inquired hesitantly.

"Your suit is a living organism that needs time to bond with your central nervous system. Scratching it at this stage could trigger an immune response in the SOIL, resulting in it rejecting you as a host. Then, your suit won't defend you when your life is in jeopardy—like being ejected out into space or shot in the chest with plasma."

"My old foliage protected me."

"Your old foliage was dated. This one is reinforced with an organo-alloy and is much more durable. So, if you are shot in the chest with plasma, as mentioned earlier, you won't immediately die."

"You mentioned plasma twice. The Astralaceae doesn't go anywhere near enough to stars for that to be a concern."

"Haledon, we didn't just come to your Astralaceae because we missed you and wanted to speed along your ship's natural evolutionary process. You were supposed to go on for a million rings in peace without intervention. This seed was supposed to be both pioneer and primeval, sowing every star system with verdant life and a thriving Druid culture. But something threatens all of us, and your fleet, the vanguard of our galactic ecosystem, must evolve if you are to survive. We are here to expedite that process because that apex predator stalking among the stars is nothing like you have ever seen."

"You're like nothing I've ever seen," Haledon muttered.

"And that should terrify you." Sparrow stopped, causing Haledon to run into her back. She swivelled and stared into his eyes. She was inspecting them again. "But you don't have fear. Not anything like we have on Earth. You've lived in a sterile environment meant to protect and nourish you for millennia. You have known nothing but comfort with no threat to your very existence. Your fleet left a vibrant world full of hope and peace with nothing to fear. In a way, I failed to—"

She shook her head and looked over Haledon as she twitched her fingers anxiously.

"The Mecharrion are beasts of metal and fury. Their bodies are humanoid, but what lies within their obsidian carapace is alien to us. They do not share our devotion to the balance of Nature. They do not share our compassion. They only seek to exploit it for their gain. They are so divorced from Nature that it is nothing more than an inconvenience to their truth. No more than three generations after your Astra left, they cut through our world with a crack of thunder. And for what? The metals under our mountains? A worthless, inorganic material that has no use above the ground. But they hunger for it."