Scroll of the Hirogen (Part 01)
by E. L. Zimmerman

PART ONE

Ch'thyr'kahh R' Hirogen
Translated (Starfleet Standard [SFS]): Scroll of the Hirogen

Remoor
Translated (SFS): One

Out of the immortal darkness
From which all worlds of the universe are given shape,
Etutheria appeared.

In the beginning,
It was a fragment of nothingness,
The merest speck of rock -
A pebble from the galactic beach long since cast off
By Gratta, He Who Governs The Universe.

Etutheria was unintended from conception.
It remained ignored at birth.
It stayed isolated throughout infancy.

Fed by bitter shadows and
Unbeknownst to Gratta, who was occupied elsewhere,
The tiny rock grew.
Etutheria blossomed,
Layer after layer,
Lifeform upon lifeform,
Continent by continent.
It grew, of its own volition, into a mighty planet.

In this - the dawn of all ages -
On this - the place that would spawn a legend named 'Hirogen' -
Awoke the beasts, large and small.
First came the K'rta Beasts,
Followed by the Flayy,
And then came the Irro.
Soon, there were too many to count.
Along with the creatures, Etutheria welcomed the plants -
The M'rini Reeds and Chepka Grass -
And the elements - the wind, the water, the flame -
Until, eventually, the world was so richly populated that it could
Only be called the Wild.

Across the world, the Wild roamed without discipline.
Etutheria knew no master.
There was no order but for chaos.
Life hosted no death.

Through the passage of time and
Driven by the abundance of spirit,
Etutheria awoke to life itself.
The world grew stronger.
As the beasts grew more powerful, so did Etutheria.
As the plants grew more plentiful, so did Etutheria.
As the elements waged war on one another, so did Etutheria
Draw strength from their collective and respective wraths.

The world breathed with each passing day
So strongly,
So exuberantly,
Until spirits could no longer survive singly, and
Breaking Day had arrived.

An inkling - a sliver of life - was given
By each of the living things
In the Wild.
From the K'rta came courage.
From the M'rini Reeds came height, posture.
From the wind came relentless pursuit.
Each living thing provided sustenance for
What was to come,
And with these elements was mixed
The bastard soil of Etutheria's own bossom.

Lightning flashed in the sky.
The Irro cried reverently in the open fields.
The Chepka Grass yielded.
As Etutheria was born without intent,
So did the world create life
To call its own.

From this brew sprang the new beast,
And He stood tall, naked,
The Wild looking on,
Waiting for Etutheria to speak His name.
Finally, the world spoke.
'Hirogen,' it said.

Wind howled through the trees,
For it knew that He would bring mastery to the world.
A chorus of Flayy sang his name in harmony
For they feared he would bring order to the chaos.
The M'rini Reeds bent in homage to him
For they understood that He would provide death for those chosen.

His name was Remoor.

He would bring balance to the Wild,
And His birthing cry on Breaking Day
Finally stirred Gratta himself.

Anula
Translated (SFS): Two

As it was, Gratta descended through the heavens
Upon N'noka,
The Garden of Etutheria that
He Who Governs The Universe had not created.
There, on the planet's surface,
He studied all living things.

First, He studied the Wild.

He studied the mighty K'rta Beasts,
He studied the lowly Flayy,
And He studied the merrily trotting Irro.
Then, he studied the strong M'rini Reeds,
And he tasted the colorful Chepka Grass.
Despite the lack of His touch on the world,
He found that all living things were good,
And, to His surprise, he was angered further.
How could this have happened without
His divine touch?
It defied all laws in the universe
He had enacted,
So there must be penance.
But who or what should be punished
For chance's sake?

Then, he saw Remoor, the Hirogen,
But he had grown tired of study.
Instead, Gratta took the shape
Of a Flayy, and He slithered across the ground
Up to Remoor.

'How is it you have come to life?'
Gratta asked of the Hirogen,
The mighty wondering what the freakling's answer
Could possibly be.

'How is it you have found speech?'
Remoor replied to the beast.

'I have always had speech,'
Gratta lied, as He had been known to do.
'It is you to which I have now chosen
To speak. Tell me how you have found life,
And I will be forever grateful.'

'The spirit of Etutheria has given me life,'
Remoor said to what he believed was
Little more than a creature.
'Why, even some of your very blood runs through
My body, Flayy.' 'This world birthed you?'
Gratta asked, and
Remoor told the creature that it had.
Insulted, He Who Governs The Universe grew angry.
His ire rising, he desired to punish all of Etutheria
For defying The Way of Things.
He thought of destroying the planet,
Of wiping the surface clean of all life,
But then calm returned,
And he toyed with thoughts of mercy.
For, despite Etutheria's existence,
He still governed.
His power was infinite.
His will was eternal.
Mercifully, He decided that Etutheria would remain
So long as this single being understood
Respect was owed to He Who Governs.

'What of Gratta?'
The creature replied.

'Who is Gratta?'
Remoor asked.

'Gratta is He Who Governs The Universe,'
The disguised Flayy said.

'I do not know this name. What of him?'
Remoor said.

'Have we been given his approval to live?'
Gratta asked.
'Have we sought his approval to live?'

Before he answered, Remoor looked to the sky.
'Does the cloud ask the Chepka Grass
For permission to rain?'

Incensed, Gratta changed His shape
From the slithering Flayy to His normal guise.
Now having fingers, he pointed at the Hirogen,
And He said,
'Does the cloud have speech, freakling?'

Surprised, Remoor trembled.
'Oh powerful Gratta,
I did not know that it was you to whom I was speaking.
Of course, the cloud cannot speak,
But neither does the Flayy.'

His irritation growing,
He Who Governs The Universe used His power,
And He changed the sky from blue to red
By affecting the composition of
Etutheria's nearby sun.
Remoor watched the sky turn red,
And he cried, ashamed of his blasphemy.

'Do I deserve your obedience now, freakling?'
Gratta asked.

Remoor knew that he had offended He Who Governs.

'Oh powerful one, I meant no disrespect.
I was only speaking of the events I have seen.
Oh powerful one, I give you my word
That I and the other creatures of Etutheria
Have nothing but praise for your will.
We seek your guidance.
We understand our place on the hill.
You are most powerful,
And we bow humbly to your graces.'

Despite the tremor in Remoor's voice,
Gratta wasn't convinced.

'You and your kind are freaklings,'
Gratta said.
'You have neither my blessing nor my approval.'

'I beg you, oh powerful one,'
Remoor tried.
'I beg you for mercy.'

In shame,
Remoor fell on the ground,
Offering his very life
In exchange for the life of Etutheria itself
To He Who Governs.

'I beg you to not destroy this world,'
Remoor tried.
'I have been disobedient,
And I, alone, should suffer the consequences.'

Smiling,
Gratta finally studied the Hirogen.
Remoor was tall and appeared powerful itself.
Even though it lacked divine creation,
The Hirogen might be worthy of existence.

'Arise, Hirogen,'
Gratta commanded.
'I shall give you a challenge.
If you pass one simple test,
Then I will allow you and your brethren to exist.'

R'wekk
Translated (SFS): Three

By His hand and
In His deceiving grace,
Gratta, He Who Governs,
Led Remoor, the Hirogen,
Into the Wild of Etutheria
Where the beasts of the world
Roamed the hills without end.

'These are your brethren?'
Gratta asked,
Raising His finger,
Pointing into the Wild.

Remoor studied the playful beasts.
The K'rta Braves -- the males -- were
Wrestling one another for leadership of the pack.
Nearby, in the shade of a Syrokk Tree,
He saw a K'rta nursling with its mother.
As he watched, the infant tiredly stretched and curled
Its six tiny limbs
As it lay down to sleep
In the warmth of its mother's rising bossom.
In the mother's face, He saw contentment.

Remoor agreed with Gratta.
'I am nothing more than a reflection
Of their whole,'
He said.

'Explain,'
Gratta demanded.

'I have the courage of a K'rta beast,'
He said.
'I, one day, will fight to lead a pack.
I have the speed of an Irro.
I, one day, will race the prairies.
I have the height of a M'rini Reed.
I, one day, will grown strong, undaunted.
I have the humility of the Chepka Grass.
I, one day, will yield to the elements.
I have breath from Etutheria's wind.
I, one day, will strike like thunder.
I have the blood of the Wild in my veins.
I, one day, will become the Wild.
On Breaking Day, I was given shape by Etutheria itself.
I, one day, will be a world unto myself.'

He Who Governs was enraged.

'Who will be your God?'

Remoor thought about the question,
Uncertain of what a God was.

He asked, and Gratta told Him,
'Your God is that which gives you life.'

Remoor smiled.
'That is simple, oh powerful one,'
He said.
'I owe myself to Etutheria.'

Having heard the words He expected,
Gratta smiled at the Hirogen
But, underneath, his rage grew.
'But it is I who govern all things,'
Gratta replied.
'Without my permission,
Etutheria would be dust.
Without my mercy,
Etutheria would be empty.'

Remoor was confused.
'Powerful one, Etutheria exists,'
He said.
'Have you not seen the world before
Your very eyes?'

'It exists because I have made it so,'
Gratta said,
Lying as He Who Governs
Had been known to do.

'Then, I grant you my gratitude,'
Remoor offered.
'I grant you my obedience.'

'And, in this obedience,
You will accept my challenge?'
Gratta asked.

'Whatever you ask of me, I shall serve,'
Remoor consented.

Gratta smiled.

He heard the hoofbeats of the beasts
Cavorting nearby, and
He knew what he wanted to have done.

'There will be many trials,'
Gratta said.

'I understand, powerful one,'
Remoor agreed.

'You must be patient,'
Gratta explained,
'As patient as the Chepka Grass grows.'

'I understand and agree, powerful one,'
Remoor offered his obedience.

Again, Gratta smiled.

'Your first trial will be to
Prove that you are worthy of existence,'
said Gratta.
'You will do so, without question,
By killing every K'rta in the Wild.'

Remoor looked to the prairie.
The infant K'rta was now sleeping
In the arms of its mother, and
A great sadness fell over the Hirogen's heart.

'You will do so, without delay,'
said Gratta.
'Cry out for me when you have finished.'

Anules
Translated (SFS): Four

Gratta, He Who Governs All Things,
Had Spoken.

By the Creator's command,
Etutheria was to be cleansed of K'rta Beasts.
They would no longer roam the Wild.
They would no longer love.
They would no longer breed K'rtalings.
The Braves would no longer fight
For leadership of the pack, and
The Frails would no longer raise young
To suckle from their breasts.

As the Cruel Fates would have it,
One of the very creatures that had given life
To Remoor was to be hunted to extinction
By the Hirogen's unflinching hand.

'To save all creatures, I must destroy
Each and every K'rta beast
That lived and breathed throughout N'noka,'
He said, and
He felt the Garden of Etutheria tremble.

'It is not just,'
The Garden told Him.

'I agree,'
He told N'noka.
'I have been given no choice.'

'You can refuse to follow
The wish of Gratta,'
The Garden told Him.

Remoor knew differently.
In order to save all life,
He had to take life,
And the K'rta had been chosen
By He Who Governs.

'If I should fail?' Remoor wondered.

He prophesied that such disobedience,
Intended or accidental,
Would only anger the supreme, Gratta.

Stirred by the Cruel Fates,
He Who Governs would descend from the skies,
Twisting fire blazing in His wake.
Gratta, embodying both Good and Evil,
Would complete the vile deed,
The vile injustice against life,
Himself.

'If I should fail,
He Who Governs would take the lives
of more than the K'rta Beasts,'
Remoor said.

Should He err in his task, Remoor risked being deemed
'Unworthy of existence.'
All of Etutheria, the Hirogen included,
Would be cleansed as punishment
For his solitary weakness.

'Is it not a greater sacrifice
For life to be ended, if needlessly,
By a friend rather than by a foe
Taking the shape of a vengeful God?'
Remoor asked the Garden.

'For that question,
There is no answer,'
The Garden replied.

So it was, that Remoor, the Hirogen,
Set out upon His task.

With a heavy heart,
Remoor marched into the Wild,
Ignoring the cries of welcome
From all the beasts who called out to Him,
Their creation.

As He marched, He studied the ground.
Eventually, the Cruel Fates
Showed Him with a stone,
Sticking out of the ground,
Piercing soil as if to haunt and remind Him
of his task.
The stone sparkled in the sunlight,
Its leading edge rising nearly to a point.

He pointed at the rock.
'There,'
He said.
'There lies the symbol
Of my destiny.'

He touched the edge,
And its sharpness cut a layer of His hide.

'I shall call you Thunder,'
He said,
'For you will eventually strike.'

With His hands, He wrenched Thunder from the soil.
Once the stone was freed,
Remoor walked on,
Still ignoring the greetings from his brethren.

Nearby, He found a tall but weak Syrokk tree,
And, using His might, He tore
Two branches as thick as one of His arms
From the trunk.
Using great care, He tore the bark
Away slowly, into long thin strips.
Between the two branches, He placed
Thunder, and He wrapped the stripped wood
Around and around and around, like twine,
Locking the stone in place.

'Thunder,' He named the lance,
And His time had come to strike.

Renarr
Translated (SFS): Five

For twenty rises and for twenty falls
Of Etutheria primary, the star Etu,
Remoor the Hirogen hunted and slayed His
brethren, the K'rta Beasts.

As word of his deeds spread
Throughout the K'rta,
The beasts quickly abandoned N'noka,
The Garden of Etutheria, and
They took to the Wild.
The Braves hoped that Remoor,
Whom they believed had lost all sense,
Would let them go.
They hoped for their families, and
They hoped for their very lives.

But the Crusade from N'noka
Failed to slow Remoor's hand.

In order to complete His trail,
A sentence placed on Him by the powerful Gratta,
Remoor moved beyond N'noka,
The Garden,
And He tore into the very heart of the Wild,
Where Etutheria itself bared witness
To what one of its children had become.

Wanting to stay the bloodshed,
The World spoke through its wind
To the Hirogen.

'Remoor,'
It called.
'Remoor, Remoor, Remoor.'

Surprised to learn that the World
Would still speak to Him after what
He had done,
Remoor stopped to listen.

'Remoor, why do you do this?'
The World asked.

'He Who Governs
Has made it so,'
He said.

'But He Who Governs
Did not create you,'
The World replied.
'We created you,
And you owe your allegiance
To us.'

Remoor knew that He could never make
Etutheria understand the reason
For His actions.

'I must kill all the K'rta Beasts,'
The Hirogen said.

'They are your brethren,'
The World replied.

'And I will always be thankful
For that which they gave me,'
Remoor said.

'Then you must see that
What you are doing is slaughter,
Not justice,'
The World explained.

'There is no slaughter,'
Remoor said.
'There is only the justice of the Hunt.'

When N'noka itself begged for His mercy,
Remoor refused to listen.

The Hirogen braved the Wild, and
The Cruel Fates stirred something in His heart.

Despite the disappointment of his actions,
Remoor began to enjoy the Hunt.

Despite loathing Himself for K'rta He silenced,
Remoor began to sense
The pulse of His Prey's heart
In His own blood, and the
Sensation drove Him to a calculated madness
That pushed Him further and further and further
Into a murderous frenzy.

Despite the insolence He showed Etutheria,
Remoor tasted the scent of Fear
Blowing at Him in the winds and
It fed Him when He hungered and
It wet Him when He thirsted.

Despite the anger He felt at taking the lives
of His brethren,
Remoor began to enjoy the Hunt.

Quickly, He grew efficient with Thunder, and
He grew efficient at killing.

All the while, Etutheria watched in horror.

After twenty rises of Etu,
Remoor had finished the deed.

The World was empty of K'rta.
Throughout N'noka and beyond,
There breathed
No Braves, no Frails, and no K'rtalings.

From His place where He governs all things,
Gratta watched the Trail of Remoor and
Was pleased by what he witnessed.

The Powerful One returned to N'noka, and
He met Remoor as He returned from the Hunt.

'For your obedience, I shall reward you,'
Gratta said.

'I do not feel the worth,'
Remoor replied.

'Worth is beheld by the eyes of an immortal,'
Gratta explained.
'The Hunt is for the mortal.'

'A Hunter deserves His spoils,'
The Hirogen said. 'I will take my reward.'

Gratta smiled,
As He was pleased.

'As you proven your worth, I shall make you
A race of people,
A race of Hunters,'
He Who Governs decreed.

Remoor's heart grew heavy.

'The Hunt is a sacrament
Between the Hunter and His Prey,'
He said.

'You are disrespecting My name,'
Gratta warned.

His anger tempted,
Remoor cried,
'You have made me kill my brethren
As a show of obedience!
Why would I think I was deserving
Of more brother to kill?'

'You would not kill
Your own kind,'
Gratta said.

'Why would I wish it to have more
Like me,
Staring back at myself?'
Remoor asked.
'Why would I want to look upon
My own guilty face
Everywhere I looked?'

Gratta smiled, as He was pleased.

'You may do as you wish,'
The Hirogen said.
'Regardless, I will only Hunt alone.'

'As Remoor has counseled me,
He Who Governs will counsel Remoor
By telling you that
You may do as you wish,'
Gratta said.

The Hirogen suddenly felt weary, and
His vision blurred.
In His haste, He lay on the ground in
N'noka, the Garden,
And he slept.

Etu rose and set
Three times
While Remoor slept.

When He awoke,
The Hirogen found Himself surrounded
in the Garden
By more and more and more
Visions of himself than He could count.
His brethren,
His true brethren,
Stood
Everywhere that He looked.
Hundreds upon hundreds upon hundreds
Of eyes
Stared back at Him ...

Waiting.

'Here is the reward
For your obedience to He Who Governs,'
Gratta said.

'We cannot all live in
N'noka, the Garden,'
Remoor explained.

'There is life beyond the Garden,'
Gratta said.

'Where are we to find sustenance?'
Remoor asked.

Gratta smiled, as He was pleased.

'You must continue to hunt,'
Gratta said.

His heart pounding,
Nearly breaking His weary chest,
Remoor looked to his brethren.

'Is there no other way?'
The Hirogen asked.

'You are being ungrateful,'
Gratta warned.
'I have given you a life,
And you have given me complaint.
I have given you Spirit in the Hunt,
And you have doubted your worth.
I have given you a world, all of Etutheria,
And you have given me disrespect.
I have given you a race, the Hirogen,
And you give me nothing but questions.
Certainly,
Remoor is not deserving of my graces.'

'Oh, powerful one,'
The Hirogen said.
'I meant no ill tongue
For you,
For your rewards,
For your graces.
Forgive my blasphemy, and
Let me take back my words.'

'Not without a penance,'
Gratta said.

'Whatever pleases you, oh powerful one,'
Remoor replied.

'You have brethren to feed,'
Gratta decreed.
'You have wounds to mend.
Perhaps, together, we can service both needs.'

'Whatever pleases you, oh powerful one,'
Remoor said.

'To erase your disgrace,
I decree that you must teach your brethren the Hunt,'
Gratta decreed.

'But, He Who Governs,
There are no K'rta Beasts
Roaming the plains
Left to hunt,'
Remoor explained.

'No,'
Gratta agreed,
'But there are the defenseless Irro.'

And
Gratta smiled, as He was pleased.