The War for Vega | A Galactic History from the Lyra Constellation

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Winter 2022

I bend down to buckle the snaps on our dog’s red jacket before securing the laces of my boots. Daruk’s tail whacks against the wall with excitement for his early morning walk around the neighborhood. But as I open the front door of our townhouse the freezing January air rushes in and reminds us both that we live in Minnesota.

I appreciate the muffled silence of winter, only broken by the soft crunch of Daruk’s padded winter booties. It’s still dark outside—the sun isn’t even a thought yet on the horizon—so we make our way down the sidewalk under the light of the stars.

I turn my gaze north-northeast, seeking a particularly brilliant star, and smile as she winks back at me.

Her name is Vega, the third brightest star in the northern hemisphere. She’s part of the Lyra constellation and I’ve found myself looking to her every morning for the last month without really knowing why.

But today is different.

Today, she looks back at me.

I feel a slight tug in the middle of my forehead as if someone is trying to fish out a particular thought or piece of knowledge buried amidst the neurons and synapses that connect my soul to this physical body. It’s a strange sensation and I pause in the middle of our walk to stand and look at her with all of my focus.

ZAP!

A twinge of electricity pierces the spot just above my brow and a detailed series of images flashes rapidly across the pathways of my memory. But they’re gone in a moment, sinking effortlessly into the deep recesses of my mind with barely any acknowledgement.

Weird….

I reach up to rub my forehead and carry on with our walk.

“Come on, buddy,” I call to Daruk while tapping my thigh.

He bounds over happily and continues his self-imposed sniffing duties, plunging his head into pockets of snow to see which of our doggie neighbors recently came this way.

We return home and my morning proceeds as usual: a cup of coffee, snuggles on the couch, another cup of coffee, logging on to work, breakfast, work, lunch.

But after lunch I feel something tugging at that space above my brow again. I suddenly have a deep desire to head upstairs and find a quiet spot to meditate.

I sit for some time as a rapid series of images floods across the back of my eyelids. This time the images are accompanied by sounds, textures, and even emotions that I know are not mine in this moment. But I can’t make sense of them—it’s all quite much—so I get up and return to my day.

Evening arrives and as I wind down for bed I begin to feel the images resurfacing. Perhaps they’ll arrange themselves in a more coherent format through my dreams…

Air rushes across my body as I circle above a lush field. There’s a beautiful, crystal blue river passing through the middle, calling me down for a drink. I feel the sensation of lift beneath my wings and adjust my feathered appendages accordingly, dipping down as I let gravity take over before splaying them wide to stall my descent.

Two thick talons plunge into the sandy loam of the bank as I tuck my wings into my sides and bend my beak down to the water. The cool liquid soothes my throat.

After I’ve had my fill, I pause and stare at my gently rippling reflection.

Deep blue feathers cover most of my body except for a few bare patches where the remnants of scars linger. The feathers give way to two sturdy, white-gold talons covered in protective keratin scales. Adorning my right talon are three bands of metal decorated with symbols. I cannot recall their meaning but a strong sense of knowing enters my mind and I understand that the metal bands denote my military rank and special unit, campaign accomplishments, and one band acts as a technologic device.

Shifting positions, I notice something thin and long strapped to my back, shining in the water’s reflection. I turn my flexible neck behind me and see a brilliant silver spear nestled on the mantle between my wings.

Once again, I intuitively perceive the details of this spear with a deep sense of knowing. It is hollow and made from an incredibly strong, lightweight material that barely affects the pattern of my flight. As I charge into battle I use my beak to unlock it from the vest holding it in place and catch it in my talons which wield it with practiced precision. The spear can pierce through any known metal in the solar system and can be used as a blowpipe for long-range strikes. It is truly formidable.

Something itches within my thoughts and I pause my observations, recalling that I’m supposedly asleep in my bed… and that I’m human. But that doesn’t feel quite right. I am also here within this avian body standing at the edge of a river on a different planet circling a distant star.

I snap my gaze back to the water and stare into a pair of gold-flecked black eyes.

Gravity shifts as I peer into the mirror of my soul. Layers upon layers of reflections echo down into the depths of those eyes, holding me in captive in this moment beyond the reach of time and I know, I know, that this is who I am. I know that this is where my journey across the stars began.

I am Meg but I am also this beautiful blue avian creature from a time long past in a star system lightyears away.

The connection pulling between my selves through this mirrored gaze deepens and our separate-but-one minds exchange information from each of our unique experiences. We succumb to the pull and each plunge into the history of the other.

The Blue Avian, created by the author with Midjourney

He lives on the third planet in what I know as the Vega solar system.

The planet is lush, rich in natural resources and filled with the harmony of peace. There are several intelligent species that call this place home but the two most prominent are the blue avians, like himself, and humanoids with lion-like features. Both of these species call themselves Lyrans.

The conflicts and wars of their pasts have long been resolved and the two species work in harmony to advance their understanding of the physical sciences, develop space-traveling technologies, and maintain the pristine nature of their world.

Together, the Lyrans travel to other planets in their solar system, learning and studying their neighbor civilizations both ancient and new. They help resolve conflicts through the knowledge of their own difficult histories while testing new ways of sustainable resource harvesting.

They aspire to develop interstellar travel so that they may visit other stars and study even more of this vast universe.

Draconian Mother Vessel, created by the author with Midjourney

One day, a massive mother vessel appeared near the outskirts of the Vega solar system.

Detection alarms rang out across each inhabited planet, alerting us to our unexpected interstellar guests. Each sphere scrambled their response teams and the Council of Worlds convened. We had theorized that there were other beings out there in the universe (it would be improbable otherwise) and had kept our old mechanisms of war just in case any visitors were not friendly.

The vessel neared the inner, inhabited planets and stopped a respectable distance away.

Communication was difficult at first as our technologic systems clashed, unable to find a common ground. We tried to send each other questions and information, aware of each other’s attempts at distanced contact by the measurement of electrical signals, but our equipment transmitted frequencies across the energy of the solar wind and theirs across a spectrum we had not previously known existed.

Eventually, a small diplomatic ship detached from the vessel and slowly moved towards our home planet.

I deployed with a small wing of other blue avians to escort the ship to our planet’s surface. We activated our stellar encapsulation systems—the technologic metal band upon my right talon—and flew up through the atmosphere and out into space. The bands held a whisper-thin membrane that wrapped itself around each avian and their belongings. It was a high-end technology that provided an ever-filtering replica of our atmosphere inside it as well as deflecting space debris acting as a type of shield.

We approached the small ship and formed up in a defensive position around it. Rusted panels of metal welded together with more force than finesse made up the outer layer of the ship except for a single, semi-clear viewing window in the front.

My heart pounded in my chest as curiosity got the best of me and I quietly glanced over to see who sat inside.

They were reptilian in nature. Slick, polished scales in a variety of sizes covered every exposed inch of their humanoid bodies, the rest was covered in thick layers of metallic armor. Pointed teeth and sharpened claws glinted through the window, illuminated by the light of Vega.

But it was their eyes that were most disturbing: a deep red all the way through without even a hint of an iris or a pupil. I snapped my head back to the front before one of them could pierce me with those eyes.

Plunging down into the light blue and pink atmosphere of our home planet, the ship landed gracefully. Three members from the Council of Worlds (two lionesses and one avian) stepped forward to greet them and with the aid of our AI language assistants we were soon able to understand each other.

We had made first contact with an interstellar species.

Draconian, created by the author with Midjourney

Despite their unsettling nature, the reptilian creatures seemed peaceful.

They called themselves Draconians and made sure to express that they did not speak for the entirety of their species. They had come to our solar system as refugees, seeking resources from the rich planetary cores their instruments had detected lightyears away on their home planet in the Alpha Draconis system.

War had taken over Alpha Draconis and several nearby star systems as several different factions of reptilian origin fought for control of limited resources. Their planets had been stripped clean, their people were starving, and everyone had begun to turn on each other.

The Draconians that reached us had chosen to leave the violence behind in search of a brighter future. They had endured several months of low rations in enclosed, tight spaces upon their vessel.

They asked us for help in exchange for their knowledge of interstellar travel and we gave it.

We designated space upon our planet for them to land and live for a time. Our planet provided them with food, shelter, water, and the resources necessary to repair and refuel their vessel.

All beings native to the Vega system gathered together in an effort to find a way to provide long-term assistance for the Draconians without crashing out the delicate biological systems we had so carefully maintained in balance when it had just been ourselves. Hope loomed on the horizon.

But the more we sought a solution, the more divided we became. The many Lyrans of Vega, avian and lion alike, began to express selfishness, born of the unproven fear that our resources were limited. Pockets of dissent murmured through our ranks as our own disagreeing factions brewed.

What had been ruminating in the background finally spilled out onto the Council floor in a flurry of shouts that turned into a brief episode of violence. Thankfully, the shock quickly wore off and order was restored among the many species of Vega but our faith in each other had been shattered. We thought ourselves above conflict and yet, when placed under stress, the vision of righteousness we held about ourselves crumbled.

Under the Council’s guidance, it was decided that the protection of Vega’s natural resources and our own self-preservation took precedence. We would provide the Draconians with enough resources to continue their interstellar quest to find a new home elsewhere.

But they did not take well to our answer.

They lashed out in fear with grief and hunger and need driving their own sense of self-preservation. And it was in this moment that we saw what we were truly up against: a well-honed, highly aggressive militaristic society that would fight for their survival at any cost.

Thus began the war for Vega.

Draconian Ships, created by the author with Midjourney

The war was long and began to take a toll on all of us. Many Lyrans and other minor species of Vega lost their lives. Planetary resources were pillaged at an alarming rate as the lushness of our worlds turned to dust and ash. And the bonds that had held us together crumbled.

Though we were a collective solar system of worlds, we were hard pressed against the strategy and technologies of war brought by the Draconians.

I saw myself leading troops into battle.

We upgraded our stellar encapsulation systems with bits of recovered Draconian technology, enhancing our shields and maneuverability in space. We learned how to create explosives small enough to fit inside our blowgun spears. Eventually, we even began to build our own starfighter craft, affixing newly developed weapons systems to our old diplomatic vessels.

But no matter how fast our tactics and equipment evolved it seemed that the Draconians did so twice as quickly.

Near the end, we were presented with what appeared to be the perfect opportunity to close the conflict. We had our enemy’s mother vessel cornered with her starfighters on the run. All available units were called to the front in what we hoped would be our last battle.

We didn’t realize their craft lay empty. We hadn’t seen them secretly disperse onto unoccupied moons in the outer ring. We didn’t know that we had left the back door open on our most precious gem: our home world.

As we engaged the mother vessel, battling against an AI on their guns, a massive nuclear explosion tore Vega’s third planet apart. The shockwaves sent us spiraling across the system as we watched our world disintegrate.

The Draconians had decided that if they could not have our world to call home then we could not have the planet either.

Anguish, grief, and a deep sense of responsibility for my part in the tragedy imprinted themselves upon my soul.

We had selfishly withheld aid from those who asked for it, unwilling to try and stretch our limits to find a solution. We had denied the universal law of love that we so hypocritically described ourselves as living. The knowing tore my heart in two and sent me on an eternal journey across the universe.

And I am not the only one.

Many Lyrans, both lion-like and avian, find themselves here on Earth today because we do not have a home to return to.

We are forever wanderers of the universe.

Lyran Wanderers, created by the author with Midjourney

In the aftermath of the War for Vega, as in so many cases, we collectively came to our senses. The love of the universe converged around us, supported us, and brought us together with our enemies.

Many of the Draconians left our system to continue their quest with guilt weighing upon their hearts. They had left Alpha Draconis to separate themselves from their Reptilian kin, hoping to forge a new identity and more peaceful way of living. But they had been forced to look in the mirror and see that more work was needed. I hoped that they would eventually find that version of themselves.

And some of them did.

A few factions of the Draconians stayed to help us relocate and recenter on some of the lesser worlds and moons in our system. They freely shared their technologic knowledge and helped us recover. They accepted their reality and allowed the love of the universe to penetrate the thick scales shielding their hearts. These few Draconians came together to experience emotions they did not know they had the capacity to feel and through our collective awakening we entered into the most unlikely of friendships.

But our work wasn’t done.

In the months that passed since the annihilation of our home world, chaos began to unravel the solar system. It was discovered that each planet plays a part in our system’s homeostasis, grounding a band of gravitational energy directly from the sun.

All parts are needed to keep the whole stable. Like a woven lattice, the gravity of each sphere in the system plays it’s part, holding each other in place with their own cadence and rhythm.

With the loss of our home world, Vega herself, our star, our mother, began to unravel. In her grief, she unleashed a barrage of powerful solar flares. The agony permeating her anger shook the planets and moons from their orbits. Her sense of purpose had been completely upended with the loss of a child and the entire system destabilized.

We gathered together the brightest minds, scientists, and leaders among the survivors and put all remaining resources into saving the system.

Together, we found a solution: a gravity well.

Contained within a pyramidal matrix of energy-woven metal designed with help from the Draconians, each citizen poured a piece of their own gravity into the well.

Gravity is not only a measurable force of attraction between objects with mass but of energy as well. Every soul contains its own gravity. It flows through the bonds formed by friendship and love. It carries the resonance of words and thoughts. Your individual gravity is defined by the cumulative essence of your soul.

Each individual soul that remained in the system—Lyran and Draconian alike—placed a part of their own essence inside of the gravity well before sealing it shut and placing it into the space where our home world had once existed. The planet may be gone but the essence of those who had called it home, even temporarily, remained.

We carved the names of every soul who perished in the destruction onto the surface of the gravity well, the symbols of love glittering across the floating metallic pyramid of its structure.

Slowly but surely, the replacement of gravity pulled the other planets back together and soothed the weeping heart of our star mother, Vega. The planet could never be replaced but we would each leave a part of ourselves behind to care for her.

A deep silence closed in around me and the images went blank.

Vega’s Gravity Well, created by the author with Midjourney

The cool rush of air once again danced across my perception of skin but I could see nothing but darkness. Eventually, I felt myself easing into a small, living vessel—my human body on Earth.

A deep breath filled my lungs as my eyes gently opened. Orange light seeped through the slats in the window blinds from the streetlamp across the road. I was safe in my bed.

I sat up and shook out the tingles in my arms. Reaching over, I turned on the bedside light, picked up my journal, and began to write.