Sneak Peak: The Dog Star

Take an epic ammount of cold medication, don't sleep enough, and get angry about the uniform template of space vessels in sci-fi flicks. If the result isn't something this stupid, congratulations: you're a better writer than I am. I started this several weeks ago under the aforementioned conditions, but ran into a stumbling block that I haven't hurdled yet. So I'm just posting what I have and leaving it at that for now. And yes, this is a very, VERY rough draft.

-Follow me,- the Araneoscientian requested, raising his bristled muzzle to point towards the slopes of a looming crater. -There is something I am excited to show you.-

Laika II obliged, trailing just behind the massive beast with her head lowered and tail still resolutely tucked to her abdomen. Regardless of her host's hospitality, the dog's fragile canine psyche was not yet prepared to embrace the new surroundings. Everything seemed an affront to her acute senses, from the choking humidity of the air, to the tackiness of the spongy earth below her paws, to the greasy smell of the slick, iridescent rocks that jutted erratically from the landscape. Even walking with the Aran was a daunting task for the dog; her keen ears could not reconcile the foreign cadence of eight lumbering steps, nor the persistent rasping of the creature's many plantar radula against the ground.

As they reached the base of the crater, a low drumming boom resonated from within, and the ground beneath their feet rumbled in turn. Laika II cowered, her ears drooping and face pulled in a fearful grimmace. A high pitched whine escaped her throat, and she forgot for a moment that Arans couldn't understand her foreign form and primal cries, that she would have to speak. She wondered if this was what it was like to be human: needing to painstakingly organize and convey every thought and emotion that could be more simply and directly expressed through the ancient language of the body. What a bother; no wonder they were creatures of such infinite rage.

-What is that?- she demanded after collecting herself sufficiently, though the whites of her eyes still showed in panic.

-What?- The Aran's posture stiffened, and he curled his tail high over his back, retractable barb protruding slightly from the tip in a defensive posture.

-That sound,- the dog replied, lifting her head and sniffing the air. Smells traveled slowly in the dense, damp atmosphere, but she could faintly detect a wan of something sulfurous on the sluggish wind.

The creature's tail relaxed, and there was a certain tone of amusement to his thoughts when he replied.

-Did it startle you?-

Laika II's ear flicked back in irritation.

-Obviously.-

The Araneoscientian lowered his head and bumped the dog's snout with his own in a gesture of comfort. Its chemoreceptive macrovilli brushed against her nose, and the dog sneezed reflexively.

-There is no need to be frightened. The Lunamoeba are harmless. Now, follow me.-

The Aran did not wait for her reply, tucking his secondary and tertiary grazing legs and beginning the steep ascent. Laika II lacked the benefit of her travel companion's widely spayed grasping toes, but was relieved to find the crater was not garbed in the same soft, damp loam as the wetlands around them. Instead, the slopes were thick with tiny, densely layered ringlets of springy foliage that very much reminded her of how carpetting in a human's home felt underfoot. It provided better yeild against her coarse pawpads, and for once walking was not an exercise in discomfort.

As they neared the crater's rim, the reek of sulfur became almost overpowering; it made her nostrils burn and eyes water. Despite being a common element on earth, the dog had never encountered such a concentration in the environment. The closest she'd come was the smell of a battlefield, but even there it was dithered by the stronger scents of blood and bowel. The Aran must have sensed Laika II's discomfort, for just as she started lagging behind uncertainly, he paused and looked over his shoulder. She suspected this was for her benefit more than anything; the Aran's ocular corona allowed him an almost complete 360 degree view of his surroundings. The gesture indeed looked strained; the species' neck was not built for it.

-We're almost there.-

Perhaps dogs lack imagination, or certainly most cognitive studies would suggest that they lacked the complexity for creative thought. Regardless, Laika II could not have contrived what the crater would reveal; her senses told her to expect little else but a reeking uninhabitable pit, perhaps crawling with whatever macherinery was making the thunderous sounds and caustic chemical odors within. She'd encountered construction equipment in her puppyhood, and recalled it being similarly imposing.

Finally, the dog stood alongside the alien at the crater's craggy rim, its mouth spread impossibly wide on both sides like it yearned to swallow them whole. She marvelled at the sight and scent and sound of what its depths revealed.