SUBJECT – Danaerean System Overview
FILED BY – Gerry – Danaerean Observer
Note: report compiled from multiple sources. Editing will be ongoing.
What is Danaerea? (pronounced dan – air – ee – uh) And what is the hidden history of the universe?
Danaerea was the first world in the solar system I Observe on which life took hold. The Danaereans thought of it poetically as the Sprouting of the Seed.
As with any seed, Life didn’t simply appear in full bloom. It needed time to grow. A great deal of time. The Seed became a few simple cells; which became a few simple organisms; which became complex organisms; which became intelligent organisms. And intelligent organisms eventually became sentient organisms.
As the Danaereans evolved, they explored. The more they learned, the more in awe they were of the diversity that had sprung from the simplicity of their origins. Understanding the unity in this diversity was the key to understanding the concept that, aeons later, humanity would come to call Gaia.
Gaia – to comprehend the world and everything in it as a single interconnected and interdependent organism.
The Danaereans believed that for Gaia to exist there must also exist an underlying influence that encouraged it. In due course they identified that influence. They called it g’ru’tnok.
There is no equivalent human word. G’ru’tnok is energy. It’s relationship. It’s life. G’ru’tnok permeated Danaerea. Every atom, every molecule. Every rock, tree and animal. Every Danaerean.
As they became conscious of the awesome potential of g’ru’tnok, the Danaereans were transformed. Abilities that, when first encountered, humans would attribute to gods were theirs. To heal, to move mountains, to soar among the clouds, to travel between one place and another in the space of a thought; these things became as child’s play. Death itself came only after millennia of life, and usually at a time of their choosing. And no one was a stranger to another, for even their thoughts could be shared.
And more than their thoughts. Their experiences, their knowledge, the very record of their days. This was held within the cells of their being, in the d’na’tnek. We might think of it as genetic memory, inherited by generation from generation. Through the d’na’tnek, every Danaerean knew his or her ancestors intimately. They were literally of one flesh.
The d’na’tnek was like a living library. The knowledge of past generations could be used by the living as though they had experienced it themselves. The mistakes of one generation were seldom repeated by the next.
As a result, the world of Danaerea was paradise; the society of Danaerea utopia; the people of Danaerea filled with wisdom and grace.
When the Danaereans had achieved the harmony of Gaia they looked outward.
They knew that the g’ru’tnok was generated through the interaction of their world and its single great moon. It was to that interaction that they owed their existence.
Few other worlds were so favored. They had either no moon, and therefore no g’ru’tnok, or too many, with conflicting orbits that disrupted the flow of the nurturing force. In either circumstance barrenness was the result.
There were two exceptions.
Earth also had a single moon. When the Danaereans visited Earth it seemed like a younger version of home. Life was abundant, although not yet self aware. The Danaereans determined to watch over their cousins and to welcome them when the time came that they should reach the Awakening of their own Gaia.
Yannoneth, whose course lay between Earth and Danaerea, was circled by only two smaller companions. Although their energy was far less than that of Danaerea or Earth, still the two did not entirely cancel each other out. They had generated sufficient g’ru’tnok to entice the Seed to Sprout.
Yannoneth’s g’ru’tnok was not, however, the pure energy that flowed through Danaerea and Earth. It was stunted, twisted. And so too was the Life that it had spawned. Yannoneth was a world of violence, of anger. There was no place here for Sentience.
It distressed the Danaereans to experience Yannoneth’s pain. So they invoked the n’es’tehk, the gestalt of minds through which the knowledge of all living Danaereans and the d’na’tnek of their ancestors came together as one. They reached consensus – Yannoneth would be rehabilitated.
G’ru’tnok from Danaerea was channeled to Yannoneth to enhance and bring order to the planet’s own undisciplined energy. A colony was established. The Danaerean colonists would guide Yannoneth to Gaia. The work would span aeons. Even for the Danaereans, many generations would pass before Yannoneth’s transformation was complete.
And while they had been changing Yannoneth, the planet had in its own turn been changing them.
The colonists gradually ceased to think of themselves as Danaerean in any sense. They became, in whole measure, Yannoneth. And within them, there existed an element of the untamed, a spirit of the wild that was not content to exist at the end of a leash.
The Yannoneth came to consider the g’ru’tnok that flowed from Danaerea, though it was freely given, as just such a leash.
The Yannoneth knew that there was only one way to slip that leash. Their world must generate g’ru’tnok in greater measure. And there was only one way, one very dangerous way, to do that. The moons of Yannoneth must be aligned, their orbits harmonized.
There was irony in that there was only one source of power great enough to accomplish such a feat. Danaerea’s g’ru’tnok.
The Yannoneth knew that the Danaereans would never agree to such a taxing of Danaerean energy, even temporarily. It was a plan that had been considered when the rehabilitation of Yannoneth was undertaken. It had been discarded; the possibility of wounding the Gaia of Danaerea had been deemed too great.
The Yannoneth did not care. Their obsession with independence took precedence over reason.
They would take what they needed. If Danaerea was affected, it would recover. And if not, what of that? The Yannoneth wanted to be free; they needed to be free. Nothing else mattered.
For a moment, for two, it seemed as though they might succeed. G’ru’tnok flowed; the moons began to bend toward new courses. But the need was too great, the drain on the Gaia of Danaerea too overwhelming. Danaerea’s great moon staggered. It hesitated ever so slightly, slowed so very little.
And began to fall.
It would take time, but for a people who thought in terms of millennia, that time would be painfully short. The result was already certain. All too soon, the paradise that was Danaerea would be no more; it had been betrayed by those it cherished most.
Yet, there were no recriminations on Danaerea. No remorse. That was not in their nature.
Once again, they invoked the n’es’tehk; they deliberated; consensus was reached.
Twelve were chosen. Into these Twelve was entrusted the d’na’tnek of all of Danaerea. The knowledge of uncountable ages, the memories of an entire race, poured into these few living vessels. Then the Twelve were sent to Earth, with a twofold geas. First, protect Earth from the Bombardment that would rain throughout the solar system when Danaerea died. Second, bestow the d’na’tnek of Danaerea onto humanity once it had reached its own Awakening to Gaia.
When the Twelve were safely departed, the entire Danaerean race bent itself to one last task. They would concentrate all of their incredible abilities on mitigating the havoc that would result as their descending moon tore Danaerea apart.
The stories of those final days are epic in themselves. The last noble acts of an ancient noble race. As the time grew shorter, a trail of rubble appeared and lengthened behind Danaerea, rubble released one piece at a time under control of the sheer will of the Danaereans. That trail remains still, forever a memorial to their existence and to their courage.
Eventually however, the time came when the g’ru’tnok failed; when the struggle was concluded with a violence that defies description. On that day, the universe became a little less.
From Earth, the Twelve felt the passing of the Gaia of Danaerea. They mourned. Then they redoubled their efforts. They knew what was coming.
Through the power of Earth’s g’ru’tnok they shielded us from the Bombardment. To those who would one day claim the name humanity, staring upward to the heavens without understanding, this time of thunder and light was pure inexplicable terror.
When the Bombardment had passed, the Twelve entered a’sa’mlek, the hibernation. They knew that humanity’s Awakening would be long in coming. We were young. And they would not interfere with our maturing.
They would wait.
The Yannoneth fared differently.
Their action had sealed the fate of not only Danaerea, but their own world as well. The flow of g’ru’tnok from Danaerea had ceased when its moon had begun to fall. Their own moons’ orbits had not been changed. Yannoneth’s g’ru’tnok alone would not be sufficient to deflect the Bombardment. When Danaerea died, Yannoneth would die as well.
But the Yannoneth did not want to die. They too invoked n’es’tehk. And they too emerged with a plan.
There were caverns deep beneath the surface of Yannoneth. They would build a Shelter, a place where ten thousand might escape the consequences of their own actions.
The Shelter was barely completed as the Bombardment began. The Ten Thousand entered. Millions more did not.
The Destruction of Yannoneth was as complete as it was brutal. The Bombardment left no part of the surface intact. The atmosphere was ripped away. The ground buckled. The seas boiled.
The Sheltered could do nothing to prevent the cataclysm above; Yannoneth’s g’ru’tnok could not create the shield that the Twelve had invoked around Earth. It was barely sufficient for the Sheltered to protect their one tiny bubble of life.
But protect it they did. When the Bombardment finally subsided, the Shelter remained. The Yannoneth survived.
While the Twelve waited and the humans evolved, the Yannoneth reflected. They knew that they alone were responsible for the destruction of two worlds. But they did not understand why.
With the clarity of hindsight, they knew that the interconnectedness of Gaia should have made it impossible for them to act in a way that endangered either Yannoneth or Danaerea. How had they so deluded themselves?
Entire new disciplines of study were created in order to pursue the question. When at last the Sheltered understood, the reason was impossible to deny and even more impossible to accept.
It was Yannoneth itself which had betrayed them. The planet’s energy, though intertwined with that of Danaerea, had not been wholly benign. In creating the Yannoneth Gaia, they had not simply tamed the wild Yannoneth biosphere. An element of its primeval violence had also been instilled in those who had come to call it home. The Yannoneth were more primitive, more aggressive, than the original Danaerean colonists.
The Sheltered could not accept this of themselves. They looked for solutions. They found only one.
The Ethical Imperative.
The Ethical Imperative required nothing less than the manipulation of Yannoneth genetic structure. They would implant a modified gene into their genetic makeup in order to reclaim the moral certainty that they had lost.
And yet again the Yannoneth would be betrayed by their own arrogance.
They had failed utterly to appreciate the power of Yannoneth’s primordial energy. The artificial EI gene simply could not counter aeons of evolution. Given enough stimulus, it was rejected by its host, taking with it the last vestiges of moral intuition. The result was a Yannoneth motivated entirely by psychopathic self interest.
These Disaffected Yannoneth cared only for their own self-gratification, their own individual supremacy. They would employ any means to achieve that end.
Strong emotion was the trigger for crossing what became known as the EI Threshold. The Yannoneth realized that they must control their emotions or succumb to racial insanity. A new philosophy came into being, centered on emotional detachment and the rigorous application of logic. Those who followed this discipline became known as the Ethicals.
The unquenchable ambition of the Disaffected eventually led to civil war in the Shelter. A war in which the Ethicals incurred as many defections as they did casualties. For how could one maintain emotional detachment during such a conflict? Many crossed the EI Threshold, and became forever the enemy.
The Disaffected however, by their very nature, were incapable of cooperation, even with each other. The ultimate individualists, they were unable to work together for long.
In the end, it was that which defeated them. The Ethical Yannoneth prevailed. But it was victory at a terrible price. Only a few hundred of the Sheltered remained.
It was clear to the survivors that neither the Ethical Imperative nor their philosophical discipline of detachment would shield them from the corrupting influence of Yannoneth’s g’ru’tnok.
There was only one course open to them.
They would go to Earth.
Humanity had not yet achieved Gaia when the Yannoneth arrived. Indeed, we were still primitive bands of nomads competing with other predators for survival.
For the Disaffected, nothing could have been more ideal. Here, they were free to engage in the ultimate realization of their megalomaniacal desire to be worshipped. With the power of Earth’s g’ru’tnok flowing through them, they became gods among men. They dispensed life and death on a whim. Their least thought, their most selfish desire, was irresistible. The myths and legends of gods and demons, and the ancient ruins of their monuments, still bear witness to the cavorting of the Disaffected Yannoneth among us.
The Ethicals remained aloof. They could not allow themselves to become involved with humanity in ways that might invoke emotional attachment. To do so was to risk the EI Threshold. The stories of wandering teachers and beings who brought wisdom to primitive peoples attest to the indelible impression of their presence.
Regardless of how the Yannoneth chose to interact with humanity, there was one purpose that united them. For their race to continue, there must be new generations. The d’na’tnek must be passed on.
The Disaffected refused to mate amongst themselves. They would not relinquish control to another in even such a necessary way.
The Ethicals would not mate at all. To them, bequeathing the flawed EI gene to future generations was unconscionable.
Each by their own tortured trail of reason concluded that humanity must therefore become the vessel for the rebirth of the Yannoneth.
Without the Awakening however, human genetic makeup was inadequate to the task. Our DNA could not retain the intact d’na’tnek of even one Yannoneth.
The Disaffected resolved this by mating with multiple partners; sometimes establishing harems and communes to facilitate the process. Fertility cults sprang up around their efforts. They kept detailed genealogical records, tracking which elements of the d’na’tnek had been passed to whom so that they could eventually, when humanity was ready, recombine those elements and recreate the whole.
The Ethicals, with their eternally flawed logic, turned to the genetic engineering practices that had created their predicament in the first place. They manipulated the genes of pairs of human beings in an attempt to force human evolution without also passing on the EI gene. They intended to create humanity in their own image, but without their artificial sense of good and evil.
The world is rife with tales of demigods and heroes whose abilities were borne of the attempts of the Ethical and the Disaffected to make humanity their surrogate hosts.
The Twelve of Danaerea were aware of the arrival of the Yannoneth, although they themselves remained concealed. Outnumbered and by now incredibly ancient even by the measure of Danaerea, they could not directly oppose the Yannoneth’s actions on earth. Nor would they have been willing to simply destroy those who were, in some sense, still their children. But neither could they allow humanity to be reduced to mere breeding vessels for a Yannoneth rebirth.
The Twelve reached out. Ever so subtly, they influenced the Yannoneth. They reinforced the revulsion the Disaffected felt for mating with each other. They disrupted the Ethicals’ genetic manipulation. They prevented the Yannoneth d’na’tnek which had already entered human genetic structure from being reinforced between generations; eventually it would be eliminated.
The process, in true Danaerean fashion, would take time. Its outcome, however, was certain. As centuries passed, the Yannoneth dwindled in number. The d’na’tnek that had been implanted in humanity became increasingly attenuated. Our evolutionary path would soon become our own once again.
Our story might end there.
A few of the Yannoneth remain. Snippets of Yannoneth d’na’tnek, here and there, still rests dormant in the genes of a handful of humans.
And the Awakening is beginning.
Facing the imminent failure of their geas, the Twelve undertook an action which was previously inconceivable.
They themselves changed us.
Not everyone. Not everywhere. Just a few. A few who were on the very precipice of Awakening in their own right. The Twelve “encouraged” them, ever so gently.
There are not many, and not all are aware of who and what they are. They must discover that for themselves.
With one exception. His is a critical role. On his shoulders rests the fate of humanity, and the success or failure of the geas of the Twelve.
The remaining Yannoneth, those who serve them, and those who unwittingly carry fragments of their d’na’tnek; must be found. They must not interfere with the coming of humanity’s Gaia, with our Awakening.
The time is now. These stories are theirs, and ours.
Observation will continue.