I stood within the portal chamber, its walls pulsing with light. The system hummed, analyzing the Terran world beyond: suitable gravity, breathable air, but unintelligent lifeforms.

 

A holo-display flickered, projecting images of the planet’s creatures: tall, four-legged beasts with flowing manes, lumbering giants with tusks, small furry predators. “Optimal traversal requires native mimicry,” the system intoned. Gears whirred, and three synthetic mounts materialized, their forms sculpted to match the maned beasts, complete with artificial hides and mechanical hooves. We called them “horses,” per our archives, designed to blend into this primal world without leaving a trace.

 

The portal opened, and the three of us emerged on a crimson ridge, the air sharp with sulfur, the sky a swirl of greens and oranges, its rings glinting like a shattered halo. We are explorers, tasked with charting Terran worlds. Evanya dismounted her synthetic horse beside mine, her fingers sifting through the soil, while Zorath scanned the horizon, his jaw tight. I, Adarion, drew a deep breath, filling my lungs with the tang of this primal world — raw and hungry.

 

Our mounts’ gears hummed softly as we observed the life below. A herd of native “horses” raced along the rocky slope bordering the plain. In a steaming valley, we watched a lumbering creature with a long snout and tusks. Evanya called it an “elephant,” her voice tinged with awe.

 

Near a river, Zorath noted a small, furry creature with sharp claws and a twitching nose, a potential “dog,” his scanner whirring. We documented but left them untouched, per the code.

 

This world teemed with raw potential, but no higher minds. Evanya’s breath caught as she plucked a fruit from a thorny bush, its juice staining her fingers. “It’s alive,” she whispered, “but we could make it so much more.” Her eyes widened. “Enhance the fruit, tame these creatures, shape this world into a cradle.”

 

Zorath’s eyes narrowed. “We catalog, not create. The code forbids interference.”

 

I felt the planet pulse under my boots, its whispers tugging at me. “There’s nothing to interfere with, no higher lifeforms. We could stay. Bring life that thinks and dreams.”

 

Zorath stepped back, his voice cold. “You’d break the code? If you stay, the Collective will watch. If your meddling brings more harm than good, you know what will happen.”

 

I did know. The “cleansing,” they called it. I’d seen it before. They would strip this world back to its origins, and us along with it.

 

He mounted his synthetic steed. “We have what we need. It’s time to go.” He pulled the reins, led his mechanical horse up the rocky slope and vanished into the portal, leaving a hollow silence.

 

A thundering sound reached my ears, the herd of untamed horses charging through the valley below, hooves striking against stone, manes streaming like banners in the wind, eyes wild. A majestic sight.

Evanya’s hand found mine. “Stay with me,” she said, her resolve firm. We tuned our tech, closing the portal. My breath caught at the newfound beauty of a world brimming with potential.

 

* * *

 

We tamed the native horses first. A hum, a flash, and their minds expanded into trust. Next the elephants, then dogs the same way, their forms softened by our touch.

 

Using the terraformer, we carved fertile valleys, coaxing the land to bear crops. We introduced seeds, programming flora and fauna for biological reproduction, cycles of life that would sustain themselves.

 

From our own union, we bore children, their cries echoing through the valleys. More followed, generations of humans, shaped by our love, not our machines. When the last field bloomed, we shattered our tech, its fragments buried beneath the dust.

 

Centuries passed. Our descendants built villages, their laughter mingling with the wind. They trained the elephants, saddled the horses, and made the dogs their companions. But they also quarreled, their hands stained with blood over envy and petty borders.

Evanya’s eyes dimmed with each conflict, her whispers heavy. “Did we give them too much freedom?”

 

One dawn, the sky split, a portal’s light searing. The Collective's presence pressed into my mind, their judgment silent but clear. No cataclysm — just a mist, seeping from the portal, carrying invisible death. Bacteria, viruses, corruption and death, all engineered to unravel our legacy. Our children fell, their bodies turned to dust. The horses, elephants, dogs, all our work, buried over time like our tech.

 

Evanya clutched my hand, her tears falling on barren soil. “We failed,” she choked.

But my eyes caught a tiny green sprout pushing through the rocks — a seed we’d gifted this world, its cycle of reproduction, a rhythm the Collective couldn’t silence. Life, born out of death, the fruit of defiance.