OK, this is part of the O & C story, but it's NOT the next chapter. This is probably 8 or 10 chapters away from anything I've posted so far. Think of it as a teaser to keep you guys interested and to get me back into the writing mood.
Oh, and before any one asks, I have *not* yet written all the chapters between what's on the website and this...
I tumbled in a tight ball for a short while, and considered the stupidity of my action. Jumping from a moving aircraft without the appropriate equipment is never a good idea. Doing so above water reduces your chances of death by high-speed collision with the ground, but surviving the impact loses some of its importance when you are hundreds or maybe thousands of kilometres from any ports or shipping lanes.
However, it had seemed like a good idea at the time, and to be fair the alternatives were less than appealing. The Cappan race is very well adapted to life in the water, having evolved from prehistoric creatures which lived entirely in the ocean, grazing peacefully on the micro fauna. Those early animals were forced to change when massive climate changes a few hundred million years ago caused several species of large, agile, carnivores to evolve. Anything directly below them in the food chain had to develop some kind of defence or face extinction. Therefore, the ancestors of the Cappa moved onto the abundant shorelines. There they found a plethora of small creatures to feed on, and if danger threatened from the sea could they simply run out onto the safety of the shore. However, they retained many of their aquatic adaptations so that they could evade land predators by diving into the sea, staying there for extended periods if need be. This arrangement worked very well, and they prospered and changed only a little from that stage to today’s modern Cappa.
The Cue are believed to be evolved from the same sea-bound progenitors. When the large predators moved in, the Cue branch of the family countered the menace by getting smaller: They became so small that big carnivores wouldn’t even consider them a worthwhile snack. However, there were other threats in those ancient seas, and so evolution could not stop there. Unable to defend themselves in the competitive conditions of those primitive seas, the ancient pre-Cue creatures began to seek protection from other species. They developed symbiotic relationships with other types of creature, in many cases the very predators which had initially forced their evolution. Dozens of different sub-species evolved, each one a specialised companion to another type of animal. It was a successful strategy and many of these creatures can still be seen, largely unchanged, on the homeworld today. The species that was to become the modern Cue moved into the shallows and found their evolutionary cousins the Cappa, who had by then been established there for around 30 million years. In exchange for protection and nourishment, those ancient Cue furnished their Cappan hosts with a primitive psychic sense, which helped them find food and avoid danger. As they symbiosis became more and more complete, the Cue shed all the unnecessary appendages which allowed them to survive independently, making themselves as light a burden on their hosts as possible.
The upshot of all this, is that Cappans (and hence Cue Cappans) can swim extremely well, and can survive for extended periods underwater. It is not unknown for skilled or lucky individuals to live for weeks or months in the open sea, as long as no adverse weather conditions arise, and they don’t fall prey to large, hungry sea creatures. Given enough time, my swim back to civilisation would be entirely feasible.
I had considered all these things before jumping into from my captors, and this was why it seemed like a good idea. What I hadn’t considered, and why I realised half way down that I had actually done something extremely stupid, is that this planet has no native animal life. Sure, the humans had brought all kinds of useful creatures with them from their homeworld and from every other corner of their territory, but these would have been introduced near the inhabited islands, and almost certainly would not have colonised these distant depths yet. Apart from the occupants of the rapidly departing aircraft, I was the only non-plant life for a very long way in any direction.
Although this meant I didn’t have to worry about being attacked by the wildlife, it also meant that there would be nothing for me to eat. This on its own might be a surmountable obstacle, but for the fact that Cappans derive all of their liquid requirements from their food. We do not drink water, except where water is available and food is not, and the brine which stretched to the horizon in every direction would do nothing to quench my thirst.
Still, one problem at a time. I relaxed my tentacles and allowed them to flail up above me, where they could increase my surface area and so increase air resistance, reducing my terminal velocity and minimising my impact speed. An instant before hitting the water I assumed a diving position, curling all tentacles down at once into a point, plunging deep into the water like some kind of missile. I bubbled up to the surface, winded and bruised but otherwise unhurt, and looked to the evening sky to see a vapour trail streaking away into the sunset. That is where my captors were heading, and so that way lay civilisation. I assumed a steady pace and began swimming westward.