Eon

Chapter 2

A sea of grass spread itself across the planet Eon, basking under sunlight and dipping into the forests beyond. It seemed endless, the green, flowing towards the horizon and cascading towards pure-white clouds. Strange plants grew here and there, with curved leaves and purple, jagged flowers. Dark forests dotted the landscape, composed of trees with leaves of red and gold. Here nature was at its apex, its most wild.

Quiet dominated. The wind moved slowly, serene and at peace. Nothing stirred. But then, in the distance, came the screaming of humankind.

Fire came forth. Technological ecstasy. Hard, cold machines collided with the green hills. They let out smoke and steam, setting the grass underneath ablaze, colliding with the alien flowers. The machines were a variety of sizes and shapes. There were cycles which drifted above, spewing fire. There were tanks, with grizzled faces and terrible maws. Passenger vehicles shot past, filled with the godless Insurgents themselves. Their manic glee pushed forward unto dawn, their screams of excitement echoing across. Eon itself seemed to tremble. Never had it seen such violence, such damned peoples.

At first they unearthed no life, only the plants and their strange colors. It was not long before they came upon the first herds of buffalo. The Insurgents did not recognize the colossal beasts at first. It had been so long since they had seen such life. A few recognized the brown hides and black masks with small eyes. Their memories grasped behind, catching small glimpses of children gathering around iron zoos. It was only then that they could remember the buffalo.

The men on cycles drove forward, pushing the herds onward. They donned their long rifles and then began killing the buffalo, shouting as they did as primal energy filled them. The creatures fell, blood spilling like streams of water. One of the buffalo slipped on the blood of one of its kin and broke its leg in the fall, stumbling onto the plains that had nurtured the beast for all its life. It was dead in the next instant, descending, its corpse sliding on the blood and settling next to a calf who had been previously slain.

Men donning fire emerged from the docked spaceship, protected by black metals and malice, the bellies of their flamethrowers full of flame. They began to burn the plains surrounding them. Wisps of orange and red reflected off cold visors. Eon weeped then, as pockmarks began to form on her face.

Another team of Insurgents from within the ship revealed themselves and began to set up long poles on each corner of the emerging camp, calming the men with fire as they went along, using strange, triangular devices that emitted foam to douse the growing flames. Their erected poles reached skyward, little lights glimmering on the tips of their tongues. Communication with Earth was now realized, the lifeline that tethered the Insurgents to civilization.

The march continued. Machines dipped here and there, drifting across green sea and rolling hills. Carson sat to the side of Joey in one of the metal vehicles, gripping his rifle tightly, ecstasy in his eyes. It was like nothing he had seen before, nothing he had felt before. The wild drive pushed him, made him more than he was, more than he could ever be. He understood now what Joey had said. He understood the gravity of what he was now a part of, of what he had stumbled into. He skimmed his fingers through his short, auburn hair and smiled with closed eyes.

The buffalo died by the hundreds, their corpses littering scorched plains.

As the day grew to a close and the sun fled behind Eon's gaze, the Insurgents wandered back to their haven of iron. The process had now been set in motion, the first steps towards domination, towards supremacy.

As they returned to camp, Carson turned to at Joey. He did not recognize what he saw.

***

With Camp One established, the Insurgents set about making their surroundings more familiar. They erected great homes of canvas, large yet unstable, structures that could be moved at a moment's notice. They laughed and socialized, moving here and there, lost souls surveying the carnage their hands had realized not hours before. The atmosphere was jovial, the Insurgents themselves seemingly relaxed and ready to work.