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The Rise of Druk [CNRP2]

Maelstrom Vortex

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Part 1: The Fall (Because to rise... you have to be down or have fallen first?)


300 KM at apoapsis, 7.8 m/s, roughly 28 degrees inclined above the equator..... shooting through space like a bullet looking for a safe place to land having been struck by a micro meteor in the warp bubble engine and with fuel cells depleted, no way home. They had to set down for repairs. One family of thousands of survivors of a nova'd world around Kepler-186f. It's one of the worst fates you can ask for really, to have nova become an adjective in your lifetime. They had shot for Centauri, but would have to settle for Sol given the extent of the damage to their primary vessel. This was unfortunate, given this system already had indigenous inhabitants. They had been woken from cryo-stasis by blaring klaxons, which set all their griffs a rattling. They literally had 5 minutes to enter the escape vessel before systems on the terraform rig melted down. But then, escaping their world was a necessity and an act of desperation that had little time for long term testing.


The Pilot who went by 'Dread Space' for a moniker had barely kept them alive and just barely managed to catch the orbit of the only hospitable world in the system. With him was a family of the Oligarchy from his home-world, Dragonisia. The Vortex clan was an interesting trio. Maelstrom had been from the Imperial council. Koudoawaia, had been a fairly proliferate artist who specialized in children's works. She had wept for days over her lost works, incinerated by a hungry sun. Their son had still been working his way through the drakes engineer corps. Sterling, who had been named for the polish of his scales, had been bothering Dread about the nuances of space flight during the brief maintenance periods when they were awake throughout the journey. It unfortunately wouldn't do the youngster much good now that the probability he will space again in his life time once they left this orbit... was negligible.


Dread spoke over the coms, "I've marked the highest peak on this planet. Given its inhabited we probably want to land somewhere relatively inaccessible. Problem is I do not know the level of control I'll be able to sustain upon re-entry. It could get rough. Please don your survival suits. The atmosphere is at least reading non-toxic, but we may be a little light headed without them. The Dioxide count is lower than our world at most altitudes. The atmosphere is also less dense, which means unassisted flight is likely out of the question. I hope your sii and saa are in good shape, because we're heading into rough terrain. Please buckle in, our retrograde burn will begin shortly."


The re-entry window approached, Sterling had buckled into the co-pilot's seat to get a first-hand view of how it was handled. Dread gave the controls a flick of his sii and the craft spun to point its nose away from their path of travel on light thrusters. He slowly throttled up and watched his velocity indicators and accelerometers track the descent.. he almost had the descent path he wanted.. when the thrusters signaled empty. The micro-meteors must had damaged one of the thruster tanks as well. He spoke over the coms,  "We're going to over-shoot. 20 Minutes til ground. Pray to the Air to cushion the fall."


## Meanwhile on Mount Everest... ##


Sherpas, guides, and tourists would look up over Mount Everest to see a strange meteor coming down. There would be several sonic booms heard all across the region. It would appear to impact.. somewhere... in rural Bhutan.


(To be continued.)

Edited by Maelstrom Vortex
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Part 2: Discovery


The chutes had just barely deployed in time. The landing was hard. Dread was out like a light.. and so were the others. Their suits supplemented their air as they recovered. A thunk and a groan.. and their door fell aside. Someone outside had learned to work the hatch. Monks from a local monastery had come to see what had caused the heavens to speak. One by one, they were dragged out, fully twice the size of those hauling them from their craft.They laid on the ground. The monks whispered among themselves about their discovery in words totally foreign to their visitors.


Slowly, Dread's dark eyes opened. His yellow eyes fell upon the nearest monk. He tried to stand, but groaned and could not. One of his legs had broken being near the front of the craft. He could only hope Sterling faired better. His groan brought him attention. The monks gathered around him, they said to him in a language he could not understand, "Are you a Druk?" Unable to understand them, he tried to send the nearest one pictures.. in their mind.. a common way the Dragonisians communicated via low em wavelength telepathy. It only seemed to bring a look of confusion and seemingly nausea to the creature as it stumbled backwards. He stopped and it righted itself. It began to state firmly, "It's a Druk! It must be. I felt it in my thoughts! We must take them and care for them. Keep them hidden!"


Dread and his companions were put on wooden and hay carts.. and hauled away in their suits. Their craft, the monks fearing it would be discovered, was rolled off the nearest cliff of the mountain they had landed upon the repeat crashing along the cliff side finally ruptured a reserve fuel tank and the explosion rocked the mountain side, triggering an avalanche on the far side of the gulch. Only small pieces of the craft would ever be found.


The rhythmic clatter-clak of the cart wheels along the old road lulled the lost Dragonisian back into sleep. His body was far to injured to be concerned about his fate.

Edited by Maelstrom Vortex
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