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Danaerean Prologue

What is Danaerea? (pronounced dan - air - ee - uh) And what is the hidden history of the universe?

Danaerea was the first world in our solar system on which life took hold. The Danaereans thought of it poetically as the Sprouting of the Seed.

As with any seed, Life didn't simply appear in full bloom. It needed time to grow. A great deal of time. The Seed became a few simple cells; which became a few simple organisms; which became complex organisms; which became intelligent organisms. And intelligent organisms eventually became sentient organisms.

As the Danaereans evolved, they explored. The more they learned, the more in awe they were of the diversity that had sprung from the simplicity of their origins. Understanding the unity in this diversity was the key to understanding the concept that we would come to call Gaia.

Gaia - to comprehend the world and everything in it, including ourselves, as a single interconnected and interdependent organism.

The Danaereans believed that for Gaia to exist there must also exist an underlying influence that encouraged its development. In due course they identified that influence. They called it g'ru'tnok.

There is no equivalent human word. G'ru'tnok is energy. It's relationship. It's life. G'ru'tnok permeated Danaerea. Every atom, every molecule. Every rock, tree and animal. Every Danaerean.

As they became conscious of the awesome potential of g'ru'tnok, the Danaereans were transformed. Abilities that we would attribute to gods were theirs. To heal, to move mountains, to soar among the clouds, to travel between one place and another in the space of a thought; these things became as child's play. Death itself came only after millennia of life, and usually at a time of their choosing. And no one was a stranger to another, for even their thoughts could be shared.

And more than their thoughts. Their experiences, their knowledge, the very record of their days. This was held within the cells of their being, in the d'na'tnek. We might think of it as genetic memory, inherited by generation from generation. Through the d'na'tnek, every Danaerean knew his or her ancestors intimately. They were literally of one flesh.

The d'na'tnek was like a living library. The knowledge of past generations could be used by the living as though they had experienced it themselves. The mistakes of one generation were seldom repeated by the next.

As a result, the world of Danaerea was paradise; the society of Danaerea utopia; the people of Danaerea filled with wisdom and grace.

When the Danaereans had achieved the harmony of Gaia they looked outward.

They knew that the g'ru'tnok was generated through the interaction of their world and its single great moon. It was to that interaction that they owed their very existence.

Few other worlds were so favored. They had either no moon, and no g'ru'tnok, or too many, whose conflicting orbits disrupted the flow of the nurturing energy. In either circumstance barrenness was the result.

There were two exceptions.

Earth also had a single moon. To the Danaereans Earth seemed like a younger version of their home. Life was abundant, although not yet self aware. The Danaereans determined to watch over their cousins and to welcome them when the time came that they should reach the Awakening of their own Gaia.

Yannoneth, whose course lay between Earth and Danaerea, was circled by two smaller companions. Unable to match Danaerea or Earth, still they had generated sufficient g'ru'tnok to entice the Seed to Sprout.

However, Yannoneth's g'ru'tnok was not the pure energy that flowed through Danaerea and Earth. It was stunted, twisted. And so too was the Life that it had spawned. Yannoneth was a world of violence, of anger. There was no place here for Sentience.

It distressed the Danaereans to experience Yannoneth's pain. They knew that, left as it was, it would forever be a patch of weeds between two fields of clover.

So they invoked the n'es'tehk, the gestalt of minds through which the knowledge of all living Danaereans and the d'na'tnek of their ancestors came together as one. They reached consensus; Yannoneth would be rehabilitated.

G'ru'tnok from Danaerea was channeled to Yannoneth to enhance and regulate the planet's own undisciplined energy. A colony was established. The work would span aeons, but the Danaereans could be patient. Yet even for them many generations passed before Yannoneth's transformation was complete.

And while the colonists had been changing Yannoneth, the planet had in its own turn been changing them.

The colonists gradually ceased to think of themselves as Danaerean in any sense. They were, in whole measure, Yannoneth, within which there still existed an element of the untamed. And the spirit of the wild is seldom content to exist at the end of a leash.

The Yannoneth came to consider the g'ru'tnok that flowed from Danaerea, though it was freely given, as just such a leash.

There was only one way to slip that leash. Yannoneth must generate more g'ru'tnok. And there was only one way, one very dangerous way, to do that. The moons of Yannoneth must be moved so that their orbits were in harmony.

There was irony in that there was only one source of power that might accomplish such a feat. Danaerea's g'ru'tnok.

The Yannoneth knew that the Danaereans would never agree to such a taxing of Danaerean energy, even temporarily. It was a plan that had been considered when the rehabilitation of Yannoneth was undertaken. It had been discarded; the possibility of wounding the Gaia of Danaerea had been deemed too great.

The Yannoneth didn't care. Their obsession with independence took precedence over reason.

They would take what they needed. If Danaerea was affected, it would recover. And if not, what of that? The Yannoneth wanted to be free; they needed to be free. Nothing else mattered.

They acted.

For a moment, for two, it seemed as though they might succeed. G'ru'tnok flowed; the moons began to bend toward new courses. But the need was too great, the drain on the Gaia of Danaerea too overwhelming. Danaerea's great moon staggered. It hesitated ever so slightly, slowed so very little.

And began to fall.

It would take time, but for a people who thought in terms of millennia, that time would be painfully short. The result was already certain. All too soon, the incomparable civilization that was Danaerea would be no more; it had been betrayed by those it cherished most.

Yet, there were no recriminations on Danaerea. No remorse. That was not in their nature.

They invoked the n'es'tehk; they deliberated; consensus was reached.

Twelve were chosen. Into these Twelve was entrusted the d'na'tnek of all of Danaerea. The knowledge of uncountable ages, the memories of an entire race, poured into these few living vessels. Then the Twelve were sent to Earth, with a twofold geas. First, protect Earth from the Bombardment that would rain throughout the solar system when Danaerea was destroyed. Second, pass on the d'na'tnek of Danaerea to humanity once it had reached its own Gaia Awakening.

The Danaereans knew that humanity was many millennia away from the Awakening. They would not interfere with human development. They would wait.

When the Twelve were safely departed, the entire Danaerean race bent itself to one last task. They would employ all of their abilities to reduce the havoc that would result as their descending moon tore Danaerea apart.

The stories of those final days are epic in themselves. The last noble acts of an ancient noble race. As the time grew shorter, a trail of rubble appeared and lengthened behind Danaerea, rubble released one piece at a time under control of the sheer will of the Danaereans. That trail remains still, forever a memorial to their existence and to their courage.

Eventually, the time came when the g'ru'tnok failed, and the struggle was concluded with a violence that defies description. On that day, all that was Danaerea was gathered to the Sower.

From Earth, the Twelve felt the passing of the Gaia of Danaerea. They mourned. Then they returned to their preparations.

Through the power of Earth's g'ru'tnok they shielded the planet from the Bombardment. To those who would one day claim the name "humanity", staring upward to the heavens without understanding, this time of thunder and light was pure inexplicable terror.

When the Bombardment had passed, the Twelve entered a'sa'mlek, the hibernation. They must await the time when their geas could be discharged in full; the d'na'tnek of Danaerea bestowed upon its inheritors. Only then would they be free to be Gathered to their people.

The Yannoneth fared differently.

Their action had sealed the fate of not only Danaerea, but their own world as well. The flow of g'ru'tnok from Danaerea had ceased when its moon had begun to fall. Their own moons' orbits had not been significantly changed; Yannoneth's g'ru'tnok would not be enough to deflect the Bombardment. When Danaerea died, Yannoneth would die as well.

But the Yannoneth didn't want to die. They too invoked n'es'tehk. And they too emerged with a plan.

There were caverns deep beneath the surface of Yannoneth. They would build a Shelter, a place where ten thousand might escape the consequences of their own actions.

The Shelter was barely completed as the Bombardment began. The Ten Thousand entered. Millions more did not.

The Destruction of Yannoneth was as complete as it was brutal. The Bombardment left no part of the surface intact. The atmosphere was ripped away. The ground buckled. The seas boiled.

The Sheltered could do nothing to prevent the cataclysm above; Yannoneth's g'ru'tnok could not create the shield that the Twelve had invoked around Earth. It was barely sufficient for the Sheltered to protect their one tiny bubble of life.

But protect it they did. When the Bombardment finally subsided, the Shelter remained. The Yannoneth survived.

While the Twelve waited and the humans evolved, the Yannoneth reflected. They knew that they alone were responsible for the destruction of two worlds. But they did not understand why.

With the clarity of hindsight, they knew that the interconnectedness of Gaia should have made it impossible for them to act in a way that endangered either Yannoneth or Danaerea. How had they so deluded themselves?

Entire new disciplines of study were created in order to pursue the question. When at last the Sheltered understood, the reason was impossible to deny and even more impossible to accept.

It was Yannoneth itself which had subverted them. The planet's g'ru'tnok, though intertwined with that of Danaerea, had not been wholly benign. To create the Yannoneth Gaia, it had, in effect, regressed their evolution. They were more primitive, more aggressive, than the original Danaerean colonists.

The sheltered looked for solutions and found only one.

The Ethical Imperative.

The Ethical Imperative required nothing less than the manipulation of Yannoneth genetic structure. They would implant a modified gene into their genetic makeup to compensate for their lost development.

And once again the Yannoneth would be betrayed by their own arrogance.

The Ethical Imperative was created to reinforce the moral disposition that had been weakened by Yannoneth's primordial energy.

However, they had failed to fully appreciate the raw power of that energy. Beyond a certain point the EI gene simply could not cope; it broke down. Cross that threshold, and the Ethical Imperative was rejected by the Yannoneth's natural genetic structure. Their DNA was irreparably damaged. The result was a Yannoneth motivated entirely by psychopathic self interest.

These "Disaffected" Yannoneth cared only for their own supremacy. They would employ any means to achieve that end.

Strong emotion was the most common trigger for EI rejection. Therefore, the Yannoneth must control their emotions so that they would not cross what came to be known as the EI Threshold. An new philosophy came into being, centered on emotional detachment and the rigorous application of logic. Those who followed this discipline became known as the Ethicals.

The unquenchable ambition of the Disaffected eventually led to civil war in the Shelter. A war in which the Ethicals incurred as many defections as they did casualties. For how could one maintain emotional detachment during such a conflict? Many crossed the EI Threshold, and became forever the enemy.

The Disaffected however, by their very nature, were incapable of cooperation, even with each other. The ultimate individualists, they were unable to work together for long.

In the end, it was that which defeated them. The Ethical Yannoneth prevailed. But it was victory at a terrible price. Only a few hundred of the Sheltered remained.

It was clear to the survivors that neither the Ethical Imperative nor their philosophical discipline of detachment would shield them from the corrupting influence of Yannoneth's g'ru'tnok.

There was only thing to do.

They would go to Earth.

Humanity had not yet achieved Gaia when the Yannoneth arrived. Indeed, we were still primitive bands of nomads competing with other predators for survival.

For the Disaffected, it was the ideal situation; the ultimate realization of their megalomaniacal desire to be worshipped. With the power of Earth's g'ru'tnok flowing through them, they became gods among men. They dispensed life and death on a whim. Their least thought, their most selfish desire, was irresistible. The myths and legends of gods and demons, the ancient ruins of their monuments, still bear witness to the cavorting of the Disaffected Yannoneth among us.

The Ethicals remained aloof. They could not allow themselves to become involved with humanity in ways that might invoke emotional attachment. To do so was to risk the EI Threshold. The stories of wandering teachers and beings who brought wisdom to primitive peoples attest to the indelible impression of their presence.

Regardless of how the Yannoneth chose to interact with humanity, there was one purpose that united them. For the Yannoneth race to continue, their must be new generations. The d'na'tnek must be passed on. However, the Disaffected refused to mate amongst themselves. They would not relinquish control to another even in such a necessary way.

The Ethicals would not mate at all. They refused to pass on the flawed EI gene to future generations.

Humanity must therefore become the vessel for the rebirth of the Yannoneth.

Without the Awakening however, human DNA could not retain the intact d'na'tnek of the Yannoneth.

The Disaffected resolved this issue in typical fashion. They mated with multiple partners, often forcibly, sometimes establishing harems and communes to facilitate the process. They kept detailed genealogical records, tracking which elements of their d'na'tnek had been passed to whom so that they could eventually, when humanity was ready, recombine those elements to recreate the whole.

The Ethicals, ever logical, turned to the genetic engineering practices that had created their situation in the first place. They manipulated the genes of pairs of human beings in an attempt to pass on their d'na'tnek without also passing on the EI gene. They intended to create humanity in their own image, but without their artificial, and fatally flawed, sense of good and evil.

The world is rife with tales of demigods and heroes whose abilities were borne of the attempts of the Ethical and the Disaffected to make humanity their surrogate hosts.

The Twelve of Danaerea were aware of the arrival of the Yannoneth. Outnumbered and by now incredibly ancient even by the measure of Danaerea, they could not directly oppose the Yannoneth's interference with human evolution. Nor would they have been willing to simply destroy those who were, in effect, still their children, even if they had had the ability. But neither could they allow humanity to be reduced to mere vessels for a Yannoneth rebirth.

From their ancient place of concealment, the Twelve reached out. Ever so subtly, they influenced the Yannoneth. They reinforced the revulsion the Disaffected felt for mating with each other. They discouraged the Ethicals' genetic manipulation. They prevented the d'na'tnek which had already entered human genetic structure from being reinforced during conception; without continual recombination it would not breed true and would eventually be eliminated.

The process, in true Danaerean fashion, would take time. Its outcome, however, was certain. As centuries passed, the Yannoneth dwindled in number. The d'na'tnek that had been implanted in humanity became increasingly attenuated. Our evolutionary path would soon become our own once again.

Our story might end there.

Except...

A few of the Yannoneth remain. The d'na'tnek has not been completely erased from us.

And the Awakening is beginning.

Facing the imminent failure of their geas, the Twelve took an action which was previously inconceivable. They manipulated the DNA of a small group of humans.

They did not insert Danaerean d'na'tnek. In fact they did not alter our DNA in any way. Rather, they encouraged it ever so gently. They accelerated this one small group to experience Awakening early, in the same way that those who work with plants might encourage a seed to germinate before its natural season.

There are not many, and not all are aware of their special status, or the source of their experience. They are not even yet aware of each other. The Twelve made every effort to make the emergence of these few as much in harmony with our natural Awakening as possible.

With one critical exception.

These few have been charged with seeking out the remaining Yannoneth, those who serve them, and those who unwittingly carry fragments of their d'na'tnek; and to ensure that they do not interfere with the coming of humanity's Gaia.

Each has a special talent that is theirs alone. Each is crucial to the success of their mission. Our fate is in their hands.

These are their stories.

Tanya | Flashes