Præludium

Terra Perniciosa, Dangerous Land

War is a terrible and powerful force. Brother fights brother, friend fights friend, over matters of money, resources, social status, independence, and gods. In the history of the human race there have been three particularly long and violent wars, wars that reshaped the social structure of the planet: the Great War from 1914 to 1918, World War II from 1939 to 1945, and the Exceptionalist War from 2048 to 2253. While the Great War and World War II both had profound impacts on the people of the planet, neither had as great an impact as the Exceptionalist War, which not only radically altered the citizens, but the very planet itself.

With weapons of almost immeasurable power, the people attacked each other for unimportant reasons, killing millions and destroying the land. At the end of the hellish 200 years, almost nothing recognisable remained. Governments collapsed, cities fell, landmasses were reshaped by the power of the Neutron Bomb, the most powerful destructive force known to man. Fortunately what remained of organised society was ready to embrace peace, leading to a revolutionary system of government known as the Prætory. One person, the Gran Prætor, served as the elected ruler of the entire planet, with the lesser Prætors governing their specific sectors. The first Gran Prætor's first official act was global disarmament of weapons of mass destruction, and designating the use of aerial weapons as a war crime punishable by the most severe methods. In spite of all this and the general acceptance of the Beryl Peace Accord, all manners of vice continue to run rampant, not the least of which is unscrupulous genetic research. It is because of this that the Ex Novo Institute, located just outside of New London in the British Commonwealth of Independent States, is so powerful; particularly its president and chief researcher Saturn Traume.

Traume, a man in his late thirties with salt-and-pepper hair and a pallid, almost sickly green complexion, sat alone in his office, the lone soul in the entire sprawling complex. Basking in the glow of a complex genetic chain projected into mid-air in front of him, he scratched at his head, very much irritated with his current project.

"Computer, run simulation for sample H0511." The genetic chain pulsed wildly, then calmed. Traume looked with delight at the projection, but his joy quickly turned to anger when the chain began to break apart.

"Bloody hell," growled the scientist. "Reset the simulation, run for sample H0512." This time he didn't even bother looking. 511 of 866 variations of a formula designed to make animals more intelligent all failed; this one would do the same. He was wrong, stirred from his daydream by a flashing green light. He looked at the projection: the chain was holding strong, the words 'Stasis Positive' pulsing over top of the helical model. The scientist smiled and flew out of the room, dashing outside and across the lawns to one of the other buildings nearby. He entered the Depot, a thousand eyes watching him from within metal cages as he walked past countless animals to an adjacent room, the manufactory.

"Begin synthesising formula H0512." A great machine nearby whirred to life, producing the compound he had requested.

"Synthesis will take approximately 10 minutes," said a cool and calculated replica of Traume's voice, seemingly from everywhere in the room.

"Fine. Show me the best candidates for the serum." In an empty corner of the room a dazzling blue horse materialized. It was soon replaced by a mouse, an orangutan, a wallaby, a dingo, a fox....

"Stop! That one," said Traume.

"Subject V-001," said the computer. "Vulpes vulpes; red fox. Block C, cage 12."

"Yes, he'll be perfect."

"Doctor Traume, formula H0512 has been synthesized successfully." A shining white and silver arm reached out from the chemical replicator, proffering a glass-like capsule containing a syringe filled with a strangely bright green liquid. Traume reached out, through the glass shield, and took the syringe, caressing the needle with a mix of awe and glee. He spun on his heel and walked back into the holding room, quickly locating Block C, cage 12 with a silent, yet alert red fox.

"Subdue subject V-001." A faint flicker, almost like a flash of static, enveloped the cage, the fox falling unconscious. Traume opened the door of the six-foot cube cage and stepped inside, showing no hesitation as he plunged the hypodermic needle into the animal's side, emptying the syringe's contents.

"Record the following for video log of the Anim-Int formula, first live test."

"Recording, doctor Traume." The doctor stepped back, imagining the turbulent changes that, at any moment, would begin rewriting the fox's DNA to expand its cerebral functions and, with any luck, allow it to be conditioned for military use. The fox's body spasmed. Traume furrowed his brow. There shouldn't be any radical physical effects like that. The fox's torso began to swell, like someone with an allergic reaction might. The animal suddenly awoke, screaming in pain. The sound of breaking bone filled the air as Traume stepped back, mouth open in horror. The fox's body began to grow. His front left leg stretched out, bone snapping, setting, and healing with amazing speed. Blood sprayed from the broken skin, coagulating almost instantly as the skin stitched itself back together over the increasingly mutated leg. A point appeared halfway down the extremity, the leg bowing to look more like an arm, the muscles shifting to match this theme. The paw began to split apart, the phalanges lengthening and sectioning themselves into fingers, a fifth digit sprouting to form an opposable thumb. The other front leg followed suit. The fox's new arms shifted outwards, accommodating his widening clavicle. His skull detached from his spine, swiveling forward and reattaching to mimic the orientation of a human skull. His chest began to widen and fill out, his abdomen close behind. His hips widened, his back legs shifting backward. His sheathe dissolved away, his member growing to a more appreciable size, his sack and its contents growing to match. His buttocks thickened into firm bubbles, the base of his tail shifting to sprout a longer, bushier version of itself that would reach down to his ankles. The bones in his legs began to morph next, swiveling backward from the hips. The bend in the legs reversed itself, forming humanoid knees. His hind paws stretched forward, matching the style of human feet, yet still only had four 'toes.' The legs lengthened in proportion to his new body, bone and flesh breaking, then repairing themselves properly. The Fox coughed a mouthful of blood as his internal organs mutated to match the rest of the human he was beginning to emulate. He took a single ragged breath, and then collapsed to the floor of his cage, his transformation completed.

"Bloody... report on vitals!"

"Subject V-001 is showing elevated cardiac and cerebral activity. Respiration within normal parameters."

"Adjust parameters to those of a human male, age 25, weight 11 stone, 1.5 meters tall."

"Calibrating.... Respiration below normal range. All other vitals within normal parameters."

"Begin ventilating the subject." A shell of static pulsed into existence around the cage, the computer filling the bubble with oxygen.

"All vitals now within normal ranges."

"Good. Wake him." The shell flashed and disappeared, the Fox inhaling sharply, his eyes wide with pain. He coughed a few flecks of blood, and then calmed down, looking around at his suddenly unfamiliar surroundings.

"Cerebral activity exceeding normal threshold."

"Interesting. Very interesting."

Six months passed. Traume was pleased with the unexpected results of his formula, but had no desire to test it further. Only at subject V-001's insistence did he attempt the process again, this time on a female fox. It rejected the serum and died horribly partway through the transformation. Traume and V-001 looked into the event, the Fox exceedingly intelligent and having no difficulty even with the complex chemical formulas involved. They discovered that a naturally coded genetic inhibitor existed in the DNA of females and non-mammals that rendered the formula useless. They tested it again on a male wisent, this time with successful results. The more time the pair of Animals spent with Traume and the other scientists, the more they began to understand bigotry and other dark aspects of human nature. They realized that, in order to survive, they would need to remain secret from the human world. Traume, in his hubris, had created Ex Novo and the area in a kilometer radius around it as an autonomous zone, free from interference from the BCIS sector five government, including its police force. This act contributed significantly to the massacre that swept over the Institute at the hands of the Animals. With no one outside the autonomous zone able to retaliate, or even knowing to retaliate, the Animals were safe, although the Fox was wracked with grief over his contribution.

Together the Fox and Wisent began to repurpose the Institute and create more Animals, discovering that, due to another chemical Traume had been testing on many of the animals, some of them had been gifted with extraordinary powers that allowed them to bend the laws of nature. One of the first Animals they transformed was an example of this, being able to heal people, even from the verge of death. Several other powers emerged as they continued to make more Animals. Before long the Fox and Wisent organized the Institute into something like a military academy, all operations running smoothly, especially the new arrival process, by which newly transformed Animals were given names and taught how to speak.

There was a knock at the door to the small office, although the door was open. A grey Rabbit stuck his head in the doorway, one of his long ears gently swaying. The Rabbit looked like he was in his early twenties; his slim body making him look a little younger. His fur was a light grey, white on his chest and abs, as well as on the underside of his tail, which poked out from a hole in the back of his tight-fitting pale blue scrubs and white lab coat.

"Just telling you you've got two more coming in for processing," he said to the Otter sitting behind the small desk.

"Thanks Troi. Cross your fingers that these two'll be able to string together a coherent sentence," said the Otter.

"I heard one of them was taught by Commander Redgard... he's a Horse I think."

"Really? The Commander himself? Since when does he bother with the medical department?"

"When he feels like it I guess."

"Troi! What are you doing?! You've got work to do!" came a shout from down the hall.

"I'll be right there!" the Rabbit shouted back. "I gotta get back to work. We still on for lunch later?"

"Yeah, I'll be there in an hour or so."

"Alright, see you then." He left the Otter's office, the door sliding shut behind him. The office was sparsely decorated: plain white wall and floor, white desk, and two steel office chairs with grey upholstery. The white LED lamps in the ceiling cast a sterilized glow over the whole room. The only break in the monotony was the Otter, his chestnut and ochre fur the only dash of real color in the room. He was built like a swimmer, fittingly; he even had the webbing on his hands and feet, though it had receded significantly during his transformation. His rudder-like tail, thick and strong, hanged down through the hole in the back of his chair, coiling slightly on the floor behind him. His ears, small and round, flanked his head and several short whiskers protruded from either side of his black nose. His eyes were a deep emerald, reflecting a kind of longing as he looked around the almost maddening room. He spun in his chair, back to the frosted glass door, looking at the files of the Animals he had processed on his tablet computer. The door chime sounded.

"Enter," said the Otter, not looking turning from his work. The door slid open with a hiss.

"Arr yoo Weer Klee-odd?" came a deep, yet surprisingly timid voice from the direction of the door.

"It's pronounced 'Klowd,' but yes I... I...." He turned in his chair, his train of thought derailing at the sight of the gorgeous Horse standing in his doorway.

"Urr-vine told mee too see yoo," said the Horse, smiling. Weir, the Otter, snapped out of his trance.

"Er... y-yes... of course.... Would you kindly stand here please?" He stood, motioning to a black square that had appeared on the floor. The Horse complied. Weir looked him over. The Horse was probably 14, a year younger than the Otter, but his Adonis-esque build and defined Roman nose gave him an older and commanding air. His fur was pale champagne in colour. His mane and tail were silver-white, the former reaching down to a point between his shoulder blades, and the latter stretching down to behind his knees. His charcoal-coloured hooves were masked by feathering in the same silver-white that sprouted down from his calves. He had dazzling blue eyes, like two sapphires sparkling in the sun. They seemed to glow with a cloistered power. He was clad only in a pain white jockstrap, the pouch filled to capacity, in contrast to the Otter's tight-fitting blue scrubs and white lab coat.

"Computer, begin scan," said the Otter.

"Acknowledged," replied the steely male voice of the computer. The lighting in the room dimmed, including the whiteness of the ceiling, walls, and floor. The black tile that the Horse was standing on lightened to a bright blue, waves of blue light pulsing up the Horse's body.

"Just relax, I'm not going to hurt you," said Weir, noticing that the Horse was starting to grow a little panicked. The Equine calmed down, allowing the computer to do its job. After a moment the scan concluded, the floor, wall, and ceiling returning to their sterile white glow.

"Scan complete," said the computer. "Subject E-1332, Horse, weight 72 kilograms, 1.98 kilometers tall, Europa exposure... information not available."

"Not available?" repeater Weir, confused. "Odd... it's never said that before.... Anyway, let's show you around and get you acclimated."

As the Otter lead the Horse out of his office, his mind raced. He didn't know exactly what had come over him, but something about this man completely disarmed him. He hoped that he would be his roommate, but he knew that would be impossible unless the Horse also joined the Medical branch, whom were assigned quarters in the Remedium, whereas the others were housed in the barracks. Weir thought about asking him to lunch, or maybe a walk around the quad, but his mind calmed down. He wouldn't rush him into anything. If it were going to happen, it would happen on its own.

The image of the two men shimmered in a bright green globe of light, three rings of solid gold around it, and an oddly curved metallic arc cradling the rest of the machine. The room was darkness for an eternity, save for the area immediately surrounding the Compass. A lone man, basked in the green glow, gazed into the sphere with great interest at the events that were beginning to unfold.