PROLOGUE

Estonia 1452 BCE

THE ROCK HAD traveled through the vast emptiness of the cosmos for thousands of years. Cleaved from the shell of a dead planet, it hurtled on a silent journey towards an eventual intersection with the third planet of a distant solar system. The rock’s fiery entry through the planet’s atmosphere awakened tiny, unwilling travelers—former residents of the devastatingly dismantled planet. Not all survived the long, frozen journey, and many more turned to ash from the heat of entry and its explosive landing.

The microbial astronauts were not animals, nor were they sentient beings. Yet, they were living organisms and shared a collective behavior that might have been called “instinct.” And instinct told them they had reached an end to their journey. Collectively, they motivated from the dark crevices and deep fissures of the cooling rock which had protected them from the cold temperatures of space and the fiery arrival on their new home.

Unfortunately, many perished as they moved from the dark shelter into the bright light of day. Their single cells steamed and smoldered when bathed in the harsh UV light of the planet’s sun, causing them to bloat and implode into a steaming soup of goo. Collective instinct now motivated the organisms to remain in the shadows. But countless more would die as the planet rotated around the sun, allowing its rays to reach deep into the black recesses.

The travelers were in an unstable situation.

Something had to be done.

A BURNING ROCK streaked overhead, igniting the gases surrounding it, transforming it from a chunk of a planet into a flaming meteor. Flecks, no larger than grains of sand, shed off as they intersected the upper atmosphere, painting the night sky with streaks of flames before completely burning up and fading from view.

A party of hunters noted its fiery show. This didn’t alarm the men, though, who only briefly paused while fixing their evening meal to wonder what the gods had disapproved of this time. After all, this celestial display was visible every year. It was one way they marked time. The addition of such a large object streaking over-head was unusual, but they trusted the shaman and his visions. The shaman would affix a proper understanding of its appearance. If he believed the hunters needed to know that something unusual was happening, then he would tell them. So, they watched the flaming object shoot across the sky in the direction of their village. With dinner forgotten, they wondered if their families and friends could also see this wonderment. Their attention remained firmly affixed on the fireball as it appeared to reach out and touch the distant hills.

Then there was a tremendous explosion. The ground rumbled, followed by a vivid eruption of flame and smoke that reached toward the heavens. The hunters no longer wondered if the people of their settlement saw this unusual occurrence. They could not explain what they just witnessed, but it did not portend well for them. Obviously, the rock had fallen to the ground, and it landed somewhere near their homes.

The successive sound wave assaulted the sensitive hearing of the wild dogs who followed the hunting party. Agitated into a frenzy, they danced around as though tethered and raised their heads, howling their desire to run free to seek the intruder. The dogs saw it as their side of an unspoken bargain to protect the pack—dogs and hunters—with humans providing food and the warmth of a fire. Both the quadrupeds and bipeds understood the advantage of joining forces in the high-stakes game of survival. But the dogs deferred to the will of the humans and waited for them to make the first move.

The hunters ignored the troubled animals. They just stared at the burning glow, dumbfounded by what they had seen. Moved to inaction by fear of the unknown. The shaman sung incantations to divine some understanding about what they had all just experienced.

The leader stood, and the alpha dog joined him at his side. Then the leader signaled for the shaman to be quiet. He barely tolerated the holy man as it was and now his vocalizations only added to the dread that was all too thick in the air. The leader looked at his followers, saying nothing, but nodded, and threw his head in the explosion’s direction, picked up his spear and bronze knife, and shouldered his bag. He snapped his fingers and grunted, sending the alpha and the other dogs out ahead. Though he acted as if nothing was wrong, there was an urgency compelling him to head home in the middle of the night and leave the safety of the campfire. A leader must project confidence, even in the face of danger or tragedy.

The hunting party walked throughout the night. The burning glow on the horizon grew brighter the closer they got to their village. Anxious feelings had made the miles fade away as they kept moving west. It was well after dawn when they crested a low rise. Instinctively, they knew they were close, but they could identify no familiar landmarks. Trees lay askew, touching the ground as though brushed aside by a berserker giant. Smoke rose from beyond the felled trees, and a smell of burning vegetation permeated the air.

The leader stopped. He whistled and pointed. The alpha dog raced away in the direction its human was sending him, with the omegas following obediently. The dogs would arrive at the village before the men and serve as a protective force if a threat was present.

When the hunters reached the top of another rise beyond the fallen trees, they stopped. They should have been looking down at a cozy verdant glen filled with houses and a barn, grazing goats, children playing, and adults doing mundane chores. Instead, all they saw was a smoldering rock sitting at the bottom of a large hole. Nothing familiar remained. Whatever this rock was, it was, in fact, the object that had destroyed their lives.

The alpha raised his head to the sky and howled out his sorrow. The rest of the pack joined him, as did the humans who wailed in emotional pain. Wives, children, mothers, and fathers were all dead.

Having already steeled himself for the worst, not actually imagining the worst could manifest itself in such a horrific way, the leader stepped closer to the crater. But the crater was much too hot to enter and investigate. His legs became unsteady with the weight of the catastrophe then he collapsed to the ground in a ball of tears and anguish. He remained sitting in the same spot for the rest of the day and through the following day and night. Maybe the gods had sent them a message the shaman could read to help them understand why this had happened. Perhaps the rock still had some mysterious surprise that had yet to be revealed.

The alpha sat with the leader and rested its head in his lap. Together, they waited.

LIGHT FROM THE rising sun crept across the ground until it found the rock’s surface. Unseen to the humans or dogs, a microscopic world wriggled to life. Microbes—the passengers of the long interstellar trip—moved. Those nearest the surface of the rock became animated as the sky brightened, only to have their lives extinguished by the burning radiance of the sun. Others remained safe in the darkened creases and cracks of the surface.

As they rousted themselves from a millennium of sleep, instinct again took over. These creatures were ravenous and voraciously fed on their neighbors until only a handful survived. But a handful still numbered in the millions. They thrived and reproduced. And fed some more. The microbes had no actual consciousness, but a biological awareness told them that feeding on each other was not sustainable. They needed to find additional food sources. Feeding meant survival.

Several day and night cycles passed. The shaman scattered small animal bones from a bag that hung around his neck. He observed how they came to rest on the ground, trying to find the message from the spirits. He sprinkled bits of yellow rocks he had found onto the fire. They flared and smoked, sending his pleadings up to the gods. No message came back. Perhaps this wasn’t something special. Maybe it was simply a rock that fell from the sky, the hands of the gods having never touched it. But it was now cool enough to investigate.

THE ALPHA STEPPED closer and craned its neck forward, inching its snout as close to the rock’s surface as the radiating heat would allow. It got no scent of danger from the first sniff and continued exploring. Its nostrils worked over the dark recesses occupied by the travelers. Organic instinct took over, and the travelers moved in unison. Instantly, the dog felt something inside its nose. At first, it just sneezed to eject the foreign particles. Instead of relief, the animal felt something moving deeper into his snout. It sneezed again and again, followed by an even more violent one. Still, there was no relief. Then there was a biting pain, and the animal let out a loud yelp that startled both the animals and the humans.

A further succession of bites sent the dog into a feverish distemper. It rubbed its snout into the dirt and used its forepaws to rub out the offending pests. Another bite, more pain and anguish for the beast. It howled again and ran around frantically, shaking its head to dislodge its tormentors. The dog jumped violently, danced, cried out in grief, and rubbed its nose across the rough ground, seeking relief from an unseen assailant.

Then, suddenly, the alpha stopped being agitated. It calmly stood and eyed the rest of its pack, then looked at the slack-jawed hunters as if sizing up prey. The omegas slowly inched away. But the men did not move. Each feeling the probing glare of the alpha. Nothing they ever experienced had prepared them for watching an animal go mad. The gods must have cursed it by daring to venture too close to their vehicle for retribution.

What shocked the men most was the slow drip of blood from its snout that turned into a trickle, then a streaming flow. The alpha was unfazed by this, stuck out its tongue and lapped up the red liquid. Then the afflicted dog looked at each human and omega with teeth bared, head hung low, hackles raised. A warning. It walked past them and entered the line of unburned foliage. The alpha lay down under a young spruce and rested its head on the bed of needles. With forepaws crossed over the top of its nose, the dog closed its eyes, and for the rest of the day, it remained in the tree's shade, not moving or making another sound.

EVEN THOUGH THE hunters had lost everything—homes, families, possessions—they could not let grief impede their own survival. They set up camp, erected crude shelters, built a fire, and spread out into the woods to forage for food. After sunset, the light from the fire created a glowing, warm haven, staving off the encroaching dark of night. Occasionally, the flames would flare up from the fat of cooking meat dripping onto the embers, revealing the dog still in place. Not that they saw its body in the dark shadows, but they could see gleaming red eyes turned into narrow slits watching them.

Things continued in much the same way the next day and night. With each successive sunset, the feeling that the alpha was studying them became more acute. It never closed its eyes or even blinked. It just stared at the men. The rest of the dogs stayed on the far side of the camp, placing the men in the middle, which caused no less concern among the hunters.

Days passed. Their routine became more of a ritual performed to appease an angry deity. The men could not fathom why they took away everything but dared not question the all-too-often fickle gods, lest they bring further punishment. Then one night, the meat from the hunt was sizzling, and the pack circled around the men just outside the glow of the fire. The dogs lay on their bellies in the grass, ringing the men, sphinxlike, ready to snatch morsels of warm meat from mid-flight with eager, drooling mouths.

As the pack patiently awaited their reward, they felt a presence approaching from the tree line. Knowing that it was the alpha, the omegas made an opening to allow it to advance toward the hunters. The alpha always ate first. It slowly advanced, placing one paw in front of the other, then stopped, head down, glowing red eyes focused straight on the leader.

The leader approached the alpha, hand outstretched, holding meat as he had done many nights before. The tribe of men and the pack of dogs watched as the familiar scene played out before them, yet both groups could feel the strange vibrations in the air telling them something was wrong. At first, the alpha wagged its tail in anticipation of the proffered treat.

Then the world changed.

The alpha curled back its lips, exposing menacing teeth. The canines used for tearing flesh flashed as they seemed to grow longer and gleamed bright white in the firelight. Instantly, the leader dropped the meat and withdrew from the afflicted creature. His retreat wasn’t fast enough. The dog’s neck extended further than it should have been able to and latched its mouth onto the man’s wrist. Fangs penetrated deep into his artery. The dog looked up into the shocked man’s eyes and then sucked as though it were a pup on his mother’s teat. Blood spilled from the wound and onto the ground. The other men scrambled to arm themselves in a panic lest the other dogs turn on the humans. Suddenly, the alpha released the leader and retreated into the shadows, glowing red eyes looking back at the chaos, licking blood from its mouth.

The leader collapsed to the ground, his wounded wrist gushing blood. The shaman set a bronze-edged knife in the fire and directed the others to hold their leader down. When the blade glowed red, the shaman placed it on the oozing bite to cauterize the wound. The leader screamed in agony and passed out. The aroma of another type of cooked meat filled the cool night air.

On the next day, the leader's condition worsened. The shaman waved burning bundles of herbs over the ailing man and murmured incantations up to the heavens. His efforts were useless and everyone knew death was near at hand. On the third day, the leader died. The men were distraught. Was there no end to the misfortunes this small group had to endure?

They laid their leader out on a thick bed of fir boughs to prepare for his cremation. They wrapped him in furs, then carefully set his spear and bag on the pyre next to him, making sure his precious bronze knife was in his hand. The nighttime ceremony would allow the living to observe the spirit of their leader ascending to the heavens in the glowing red embers of the fire that would consume his body.

The hunters finished their meal as the sun slipped beyond the horizon. Soon it would be time. Suddenly, the shaman came rushing in. The leader’s body had disappeared. The men worked themselves into a frenzy. This was another bad omen from the gods. Then, from out of the black night, their leader appeared and joined his people at the fire circle.

Shocked at seeing this, the hunters encircled him with joyful praise to the gods at this fortuitous occurrence. How could this be? But then why question the gifts that are given? Behind the leader, the alpha emerged from the dark eyes glowing red. It stepped to the leader’s side and stopped. The omegas followed. Their ears lay flat on lowered heads, hackles raised, tails tucked between rear legs, and eyes shining like the alpha. They surrounded the hunters. Alarmed, the men reached for weapons, not really prepared for any of this. The shaman began a low guttural incantation, flailing his arms about, pleading for the spirits to cast away the demon dogs and protect the men.

The leader reached out to the shaman, touched his shoulder, and pulled him into his grasp as though he was going to say something in the shaman's ear. The singing stopped. Then, the leader's mouth opened into a grotesquely large chasm. His canines, visibly longer, had turned into pointed fangs. He bit into the shaman’s neck and sucked. Instantly, the dogs descended on the hunters, each biting and drinking. When all had their fill, they slunk away into the shadows of the distant tree line. The hunters, as humans, all died that night, only to be reborn as immortals.

These would think of themselves as “the First.”