sentimentality?” someone asked.
Fangs answered, lost in thought. “It is a long story. Interstellar space is indeed vast and boundless, but it is also different than you would imagine. The places that truly suit us, as advanced carbon-based life-forms, are few and far between. A dust cloud blocks the way to the center of the Milky Way just two thousand light years from here. There is no way for us to pass through it and no way for us to survive in it. And after it comes an area of powerful radiation and a large group of wandering black holes.” Fangs paused, before continuing, still speaking more to himself than the humans before him. “If we should travel in the opposite direction, we would just come to the end of the spiral arm and then, not far beyond, nothing but a limitless, desolate void. The Devourer Empire has already completely consumed almost all the planets that could be found in the habitable areas that exist between these two barriers. Now, the only way out is to fly to another arm of the Milky Way. We have no idea what awaits us there, but if we stay here we will certainly be doomed. It will be a journey of fifteen million years, taking us right through the void. To survive it we must build large stocks of all possible expendables.
“Right now, the Devourer Empire is just like a fish in a drying stream. It must make a desperate leap before its water completely evaporates. It realizes that the most likely end is a landing on dry land and death under the scorching Sun; but there is the slight chance that it may fall into a neighboring water hole and so survive.” Fangs lowered his gaze toward the humans to near eye-level. “As far as sentimentality is concerned, we have lived through tens of millions of arduous years and fought stellar wars beyond number. The hearts of the Dinosaur race have long since petrified. Now the Devourer Empire must consume as much as it possibly can in preparation for our million-year journey.” Fangs again paused, deep in thought. “What is civilization? Civilization is devouring, ceaselessly eating, endlessly expanding; everything else comes second.”
The Marshal, too, was deep in thought. Looking at Fangs, he questioned, “Can the struggle for existence be the universe's only law of biological and cultural evolution? Can we not establish a self-sufficient, introspective civilization where all life exists in symbiosis? A civilization like that of the Eridanians.”
Fangs answered without hesitation or pause. “I am no philosopher; perhaps it can be done. The crux is, who will take the first step? If one's survival is based on the subjugation and consumption of others and if that should be the universe's iron law of life and civilization, then whoever first rejects it in favor of introspection will certainly perish.”
With that Fangs returned to his spaceship, but he re-emerged, now carrying a thin and flat box in both talons. The box was about ten-foot square and it would have easily taken four men to carry. Fangs placed the box on the ground and opened its top. To the humans' surprise, the box was filled with earth and grass was growing on it. On this lifeless world, its green left no heart untouched.
As Fangs opened the box, he turned to the humans. “This is pre-war soil. After the war, I put all of its plants and all of its insects into suspended animation. Now, after more than two centuries, they have awoken beside me. Originally, I wanted to take this soil with me as a memento. Alas, I thought about it and I have changed my mind. I have decided to return it to where it truly belongs. We have taken more than enough from our home world.”
As they gazed upon this tiny piece of Earth, so full of life, the humans' eyes began to moisten. They now knew the dinosaurs' hearts had not turned to stone. Behind those scales colder and crueler than steel and rock, beat a heart that longed for home.
Fangs shook his claws, almost as if he wanted to cast off the emotions
Fangs answered, lost in thought. “It is a long story. Interstellar space is indeed vast and boundless, but it is also different than you would imagine. The places that truly suit us, as advanced carbon-based life-forms, are few and far between. A dust cloud blocks the way to the center of the Milky Way just two thousand light years from here. There is no way for us to pass through it and no way for us to survive in it. And after it comes an area of powerful radiation and a large group of wandering black holes.” Fangs paused, before continuing, still speaking more to himself than the humans before him. “If we should travel in the opposite direction, we would just come to the end of the spiral arm and then, not far beyond, nothing but a limitless, desolate void. The Devourer Empire has already completely consumed almost all the planets that could be found in the habitable areas that exist between these two barriers. Now, the only way out is to fly to another arm of the Milky Way. We have no idea what awaits us there, but if we stay here we will certainly be doomed. It will be a journey of fifteen million years, taking us right through the void. To survive it we must build large stocks of all possible expendables.
“Right now, the Devourer Empire is just like a fish in a drying stream. It must make a desperate leap before its water completely evaporates. It realizes that the most likely end is a landing on dry land and death under the scorching Sun; but there is the slight chance that it may fall into a neighboring water hole and so survive.” Fangs lowered his gaze toward the humans to near eye-level. “As far as sentimentality is concerned, we have lived through tens of millions of arduous years and fought stellar wars beyond number. The hearts of the Dinosaur race have long since petrified. Now the Devourer Empire must consume as much as it possibly can in preparation for our million-year journey.” Fangs again paused, deep in thought. “What is civilization? Civilization is devouring, ceaselessly eating, endlessly expanding; everything else comes second.”
The Marshal, too, was deep in thought. Looking at Fangs, he questioned, “Can the struggle for existence be the universe's only law of biological and cultural evolution? Can we not establish a self-sufficient, introspective civilization where all life exists in symbiosis? A civilization like that of the Eridanians.”
Fangs answered without hesitation or pause. “I am no philosopher; perhaps it can be done. The crux is, who will take the first step? If one's survival is based on the subjugation and consumption of others and if that should be the universe's iron law of life and civilization, then whoever first rejects it in favor of introspection will certainly perish.”
With that Fangs returned to his spaceship, but he re-emerged, now carrying a thin and flat box in both talons. The box was about ten-foot square and it would have easily taken four men to carry. Fangs placed the box on the ground and opened its top. To the humans' surprise, the box was filled with earth and grass was growing on it. On this lifeless world, its green left no heart untouched.
As Fangs opened the box, he turned to the humans. “This is pre-war soil. After the war, I put all of its plants and all of its insects into suspended animation. Now, after more than two centuries, they have awoken beside me. Originally, I wanted to take this soil with me as a memento. Alas, I thought about it and I have changed my mind. I have decided to return it to where it truly belongs. We have taken more than enough from our home world.”
As they gazed upon this tiny piece of Earth, so full of life, the humans' eyes began to moisten. They now knew the dinosaurs' hearts had not turned to stone. Behind those scales colder and crueler than steel and rock, beat a heart that longed for home.
Fangs shook his claws, almost as if he wanted to cast off the emotions
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