CHAPTER TWELVE

Some time after the birth of Creation...

In the dark corners of Desaphanus's grand universe, sat a dead planet. One of a thousand rejected worlds deemed unsuitable for their creator's purposes. There it quietly waited until one day early in the history of the universe, an enterprising elder god stumbled upon it.

Tod beheld the barren globe, and it struck him that it would make a fine world to mold in his image.

Perhaps a little rough around the edges. Yet within it, he sensed a glittering jewel waiting his nigh-omnipotent touch. He would sculpt it into a glorious place. A world so utterly magnificent, his brother would have no choice but to bow before him and acknowledge its superiority over Wa'suria in every respect.

"If you think you can do better, why don't you go and make your own world?" Desaphanus had snorted.

And make his own world, he would. Seized with a sudden burst of ambition, he touched the planet, which he dubbed "Tenalp", and blessed it with the basic amenities: eight oceans, five continents, a pleasant atmosphere, and a smattering of seas and mountain ranges. He gave his blessed world two suns (twice as many as Wa'suria) and no less than twenty-nine moons. Originally, he'd intended thirty-four, but five were smashed to pieces before he got all the orbits worked out. The basic groundwork set forth, he began the important work of creating his people.

The people of Tenalp were to be a chosen race. They would embody only the best of everything. The Tenalpians would be strong in spirit, mind, and body. To gaze upon them would be to know the divine power of an elder god at its ultimate inspiration. Tod scooped up a handful of his world and breathed upon it. The lifeless dirt shaped itself into a semblance of life. The blob of protoplasm quivered, awaiting his further blessings. It never came.

Tod struck his first and only case of creator's block. Desaphanus had used all the good ideas, all the interesting shapes. And nothing Tod could think of was not, in one way or another, derivative of something his brother had already created. Desaphanus had had it easy. He'd been first, when originality had been a snap. Anything was more interesting than nothing.

Tod set the Tenalpians down, and with a discouraged sigh, metaphysically speaking, put his unfinished world aside. Perhaps a break would stir his creative juices, he hoped. An epoch passed and still nothing came to him. As quickly as it came, his ambition left him, and he eventually forgot all about his world.

Tenalp carried on without him.

The First Age of Tenalp was a chaotic time. Bigger Tenalpians ate smaller Tenalpians. Smaller Tenalpians did their best not to get eaten. Very little was accomplished. Yet somehow, some way, the Tenalpians survived. Indeed, they thrived. Despite the neglect of their creator, they evolved.

In the Second Age, Tenalpian civilization struggled bravely upward. This was no easy feat. They were a species with precious few resources and an environment that did little to foster sharing. The bigger Tenalpians ate their smaller brothers with regularity, but at least an etiquette was worked out

"Pardon me? Would you mind if I ate you?"

"Actually, yes I would."

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry to hear that, but I'm going to eat you anyway."

"Of course. I understand."

"Gulp."

In the Third Age, the Tenalpians began their exploration into the secrets of the universe. This was a long and difficult journey, and they were not a particularly bright race. Nor where they particularly stupid, and they had one distinct advantage over the children of Wa'suria. Their creator was not around to discourage them, to smite the overly curious, and remind them of their place in the universe. And so, they pressed on from ignorance to understanding and from understanding to mastery.

By the dawning of the Fourth Age, Tenalpian insight into the true nature of reality reached new heights.

They ventured forth from their depleted world and found a new future among the stars. It was an arduous feat, and many brave Tenalpians sacrificed their lives for the greater good. They spread across their neglected corner of the cosmos, quietly prospering.

Eventually and unfortunately, the Fifth Age of the Tenalpians arrived. It was a time of worry, for the Tenalpians discovered, much to their dismay, that the universe was dying. They were the first to notice this. Tenalpian science had unlocked the true nature of the cosmos, discovering secrets even the elder gods had never truly understood. Their reaction was quite predictable. From the entire race came a collective rallying call.

"This will not do."

They had not dragged themselves up from nothing to die here and now. A less determined race would have withered with this knowledge and resigned themselves to their fate. But the The Tenalpian spirit flourished under adversity, and beneath the shadow of this greatest of adversities, they flourished greatly.

They focused all their efforts into surviving the approaching doom. Early in their research, they concluded that it might be necessary to destroy everything else to insure their own continued existence. This was regretful, but it was a sacrifice they were perfectly willing to make.

***

The Commander pressed a button with his pseudopod and the Core of the universe appeared on his screen. He grimace as well as his dull, Tenalpian face would allow.

"Is that it?"

"Yes, sir." the Chief Science Officer confirmed.

The Commander leaned closer to the screen. He felt sick, but he did not turn away.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, sir."

"Absolutely certain?"

"Yes, sir. We scanned it five times. The readings are unmistakable."

The Commander rubbed his moist, pink belly. "Well, that's that then, isn't it? Strange, isn't it? I wasn't sure we would find it in time."

"We haven't solved the problem yet, sir," the Science Officer replied. "The Core is fading. We're working to stabilize it, but so far, nothing has proven effective."

"How much time before it's decay is beyond reversion?"

"Difficult to say, sir. A few days. Perhaps longer if the Purge is kept up."

"I'll see that it is." The Commander glanced back at the screen, allowing himself a long look at Tod's malformed, hairy orc body. "Five times, you say?"

"Five times, sir."

"Very well then. I'm sure you're ready to get back to work if you're to save the Core. Don't mean to put you under extra pressure, but we're all counting on you."

"Of course not, sir." The Science Officer saluted with a twin whirl of his pseudopods.

"On your way out, would you please tell the ensign I need to speak with him?"

"Certainly, sir."

The Science Officer left, and the ensign dragged himself in.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes." The Commander smiled. "Ensign, would you mind if I ate you?"