In the beginning was the Fanged God, whose Name it is forbidden to speak.
The Fanged god reached forth from the darkness of chaos, and grasped the forge of worlds. He was angry, and he was lonely, for nothing existed but the Chaos and the forge, no sky, no sun, no night and no day, no food for his belly and no kin to share it with.
First, the Fanged god built the land, dragging the screaming not life of chaos into order, creating the Seed, to place on the forge. He struck the seed, and unleashed the Stars, and fire so very hot, the hot winds, which coalesced by his will into the Stars, its breath cooling as it grew to create the Sky, and then the Land, and then, the wet. The dry and the wet raged with the cold and the hot, lands rose and fell, and for a time, the Fanged god was amused.
but not for long, for his loneliness and his hunger persisted.
First he tried to deal with loneliness, but he lacked skill, and the things he made for companions were void of thought, crude, and clumsy. His works refined the crudeness, moving from shell, to scale, to feather, to fur.
but they were not companions, and he hungered yet more, until it tore at him from within, and in his frustration, he ate one of his creations...
and found it good.
And so the Fanged god did invent the Meat animals, the insect and the reptile, the avian and the furred meat.
but he was still so very lonely, he did meditate, on the chaos, the chaos that bore him, seeking a spirit with a mind, to bring into this world he had made.
after much time, he found one, and it was SHE.
SHE was like him, SHE had consciousness, had order to her thoughts, and SHE looked upon his works and was pleased, SHE came into his presence, and did dine on the Meat Animals, and whispered of greater things, inspiring him.
and they did mate. and from the SHE, came three sons.
One son, was Golden haired and fine, Oldest son, he was gifted with strength and grace. His fur was drawn from the light of the sun itself, and he would rule the great savannahs. His gift from Father was craftwork, and he was taught by Mother to grow food.
Second Son was as Dark as his older brother was golden, with rich, thick black fur, greater strength and nearly equal grace. He was made handsome of countenance, and so he was given the gardens of trees, the forested lands and the foothills rich in game and soil. His hands found wood easily shaped, and he made many great gifts for SHE and the Fanged God with his deep affection and faith.
Third Son, was deformed. Shorter than his brothers, with stocky legs and a deformed, tiny tail, he lacked the wit of Second Brother or the Strength and Grace of Oldest Brother. SHE banished him to the poorest lands, the cold lands to the far north and south, the almost barren mountain lands where the touch of the sun came with biting cold and the wet froze solid for much of the year, but Third Son had his talent too-he endured hardship more easily than his brothers, having never felt his mother's love or his father's pride. Third Son's other 'gift' was his father's rage.
In time, mates came to gather with First Son on the Savannahs, and with Second Son in the forests and coastal plains. They were beauties and they were fertile.
Third Son's mate? she was as deformed, as graceless and unfinished, as he was-cast out early, to live or die in the barren, wasted lands.
and so, on "The land of the Fanged God" which is called "Fera'asa" were the three peoples created-the Tall and strong golden peoples of the plain, the cunning and strong Darkened peoples of the forest, and the stubborn, brutal, foolish Mountain peoples of the cold wastes, who would envy their richer cousins, but whose families would always be smaller, and weaker, unable to take more than they could carry away before the larger tribes could chase them down.
As the peoples grew, they learned new things, and built cities, trading in knowledge and defending against their savage cold-adapted cousins. The people of the Second son were drawn to the warmer lands, and prospered, the people of First Son took the temperate lands, being the strongest and best for fending off the descendents of Third Son.
but all was not always well, for there came a time when the Fanged God hungered again, and sought to devour the peoples-he devoured thousands from the Second Son's kin, with fire and with water. He devoured legions of the Golden Son's children..
and Third Son's get choked him with their foulness, their rage, their poverty and their ignorance, and above all, with their violent ferocity, instead of being devoured by the thousands as their cousins had been, the Mountain peoples devoured The Fanged God, right down to his name, leaving SHE to weep at the death of her mate.
and thus, the gods left us all, and the survivors of the Golden, and the survivors of the Dark, grew again in prosperity. the foul ones, the Ignorant, unwashed peoples of the wastes, struggled on as they have always struggled, kept in check by their poor lands and low births.
Over time, the children of the Second son, began to envy the prosperity of the Golden ones, and began to do as their cousins have done since forever, raiding, and taking what they wanted. While the golden tribe was the stronger, Second Son's people had better fighters.
It is un-recorded and un-remembered which Patriarch first stumbled to the idea of hiring Third Son's cursed get to fight for the Golden furred children of the Fanged God...
but whomever it was, chose well, for the Cursed ones were hardened to hardship, and willing to do...well...anything in battle, in exchange for a little pay from their more graceful and civilized cousin-tribe.
thus freed from the need to fight, the Golden ones reached heights of civilization, art, and sciences...and shared them, perhaps foolishly, with their almost-as-refined cousins to the south, while relying on the brutish Northerners to keep them safe.
one of the secrets they foolishly shared, was the discovery of the self-replicating protein, the basis from which chaos becomes life. This they shared to their old rivals, perhaps accidentally, during one of the many periods when Lords fought for territories and prestige in wars as weapons improved.
This was a mistake, for that old hunger had taken root in the hearts of the children of Second Son, and they had forgotten the greatest betrayal. They sought to make themselves the equal of the Fanged God...and so, a GREAT war began again, between the sons of First Son, and the Sons of Second Son...and it was Third Son's children that stood the defense.
For the Golden ones had discovered MANY secrets, and they shared one with not only the Dark ones, who now called themselves "The Pure" or "Ferasan" in the ancient tongue, but this one was shared with the brutes, and while the others valued knowledge and secrets, and learning, they did not crave it as the Northerners do, did not feel the constant sting of being 'less clever', of being weaker, and smaller, of being deformed, of being only fit to live in the worst lands, only able to visit the better lands as servants and warriors.
The Pure drove deep into the Golden lands, marchign on a tide of steel and fire, for they were many times many, and the Golden were not used to war, and the Accursed were too few to protect them.
The Ultimatum was given "Surrender to the Pure and you will be forgiven and elevated."
The Patriarch Cait, whose fathers had walked the skies in ships, said "NO".
The final offensive saw the Golden ones' shining cities fall, one by one, Our people found retreat bitter, but our lines grew tighter, we were able to muster more strength across a narrower front, as the Golden ones, realizing they could not prevail against the Pure's numbers and genetic technology, hurried too late to build the ark that would allow them to flee.
The price we demanded, and got, for their escape, was high indeed. We held off the Pure until the last of the Golden Ones were beyond the reach of missile, and beam, and railgun shot.
And then, with their library in our hands, we unlocked the secret they had given us.
and in so doing, we made the light, brighter than a thousand suns, brighter than the world forge itself, on the largest cities and concentrations held by The Pure, and we drew our payment deep into the Mountains, where the light-that-you-can't-see could not reach.
Of course, the Pure recovered. The Nuclear strikes were localized, to cover our escape and to blind them. when they came to the hills, we fought them off, using the learning and our own natures against them, for they still can not bear hardship, but it is our mother's milk. They can not bear loneliness, but we, being mind-deafened from origin onward, endure it gladly.
The Klingons, who conquered our foes in the warmlands, call all of us 'Ferasan', it is, perhaps, for the best. The Warmlanders with their mindwalkers could not defeat us except with waves of bodies, and the Klingons offered us 'honor' and yet more Knowledge.
and so, as we served the Golden ones for payment and wisdom, we serve the Empire of Kahless, the Klingons, and we, at least, are well compensated compared to our 'cousins' with their thin, dark fur and silly decorations.
-Lorespeaker M'rrowl're,
1893 (earth reckoning)
Nature doesn't HAVE to be nice, or polite.
Free Hong Kong.
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By the time the Caitians, as they had come to name themselves, went back into space, the Sheliak of Beta Lyrae C were also climbing toward the stars. The interactions between these two races would define how they each viewed the exploration of the galaxy in the centuries which followed.
Dr. Alice Gill, Xenomythology 204, Starfleet Academy, 2396-97
Fire Team iii Subleader turned to assist him but he shouted, "Lead the team! I will buy time!"
Reluctantly she turned and ran, with the other two, back to the force fields of the main encampment. And he held.
Beheading the first, a ravager, then eviscerating the hordlings who followed her. When more followed he swept his claws against a ravager's breast as he TRIBBLE the legs off another, then clove her skull down the center, neatly splitting between the armored plates that protected her crown. He had space.
He fell back to the next choke point and stood his ground again. And then it came over him like a warm bath: the battle-rage. His sight focused, his muscles lost the sensation of exhaustion, his mind lost track of every thought, and time slowed to a crawl.
He saw the ravager and her hordlings coming, saw that her claws held a Klingon disruptor, saw her claw squeeze. He stepped aside. His body couldn't move fast enough, it was stuck in thick mud, but it was fast enough to dodge the blast of the weapon which he took from the ravager. He shoved its barrel into her mouth and fired. She didn't know she was dead yet.
His watsai was gone, but he still had claws, and suddenly he felt they were as strong as steel. He slashed the slow-moving hordlings, raking with his feet to disembowel, slashing throats with his hands. That one had a mek'leth and he took its arm off at the shoulder, ripped the weapon from its clenched claws, and shoved the arm into its mouth.
The Fek'lr were moving faster now, and he managed to kill the one with his watsai only after its crude swipe drew blood from his hip. He had steel in two hands now, and another clear space, so he fell back. Sound resumed, and he finally noticed its previous absence. His lugs hurt, and he burned in his muscles as the hordlings cleared a space around him, created a pathway. A giant stepped through.
A slave master. It screamed, a long ululation, and the hordlings swarmed toward him. He realized his death was imminent. With all the force he could muster he flung the mek'leth left-handed. The giant was too slow to avoid it and it struck the creature's face, missing the eye by a blade's width. It was the last Fire Team iii Leader saw of the beast, who was obscured by hordlings.
He wished the battle-rage would come again, and knew it would not. He would die here, now. He would take these hordlings with him. He killed in ones and twos, and fell back when he could to kill more as they swarmed heedless of their own deaths. Somehow his watsai was lost again and he had acquired a bat'leth. He could not recall how that had happened, but he fought on.
He heard popping, and insects buzzing. A hordling dropped as its head exploded. He wished that would happen more often. He swung the bat'leth, his arms burning and his shoulders on fire. His breath was pain, but not to breathe was pain. A tearing sound, as of cloth being ripped, drowned the screams of the hordlings, and they fell in waves. With the last of his strength he decapitated the one before him. His leg spasmed in agony and he stomped, claws extended, to slash open the throat of the legless hordling which had bitten him.
Before him the battlefield was littered with dead and dying Fek'lri, and he fell to one knee, gasping to draw his breath. A squad of Klingons ran past him, their slug-throwers barking. One carried a multi-barreled weapon attached to him with a harness that sprayed slugs, and the Fek'lr melted in its spray.
Fire Team iii Subleader was there, but his vision was washing out, pale white bleached everything. Her words were meaningless echoes. He fell to the ground, but would never remember doing it.
***
A forest of pale trees on a steep, snow covered slope. Cold dry winds blew, invigorated his blood. He pounced and the meat was his, its last struggles on the ends of his claws were accompanied by the only sound it would ever make in its short, brutal life.
"Is this what you want?" a female asked. He had not heard her approach, and he jumped, flipped to face her, crouching.
She was ancient, grey where once black markings had been, and scarred. She was powerful. No patriarch could have held her against her will.
"You are free to remain here, if you wish," she said, taking no defensive posture against his ready attack. Suddenly he felt as a kit who challenges his mother. Only her forbearance allowed him to remain alive.
"Remain, hunt, whatever you wish. No one will bother you, none will require anything of you. Stay, if it is what you want." Her eyes were green. Not the hazel some of the Mountain folk had, but the green of chromium-beryl. None of the Children had eyes like hers.
"Who?" he finally asked.
"I am who I am. This is my mountain. If you stay, your time for doing deeds will have come to an end. You will sire no kits, earn no name, your deeds will be forgotten. Or you can go back."
"To fight?"
"To live."
"How?"
"You must want it."
And he found that he did. "How do I..."
Once again white light bleached the colors away, and he felt as if he were being pushed from behind.
***
The Colonel was proud. Fire Team iii Leader saw the Klingon smile as his eyes opened.
"Forty-seven confirmed kills in hand-to-hand combat, six ravagers and a slave-master," were his first words.
Fire Team iii Leader tried to come to his feet, but was stayed by pain that pinned him to the cot. He was in a medical tent. There weren't many others: Fek'lr tended to not leave wounded behind.
"You are now First Reconnaissance Platoon Leader," the Colonel said. "You will have your platoon trained and ready to take the field in six days. Elements of Second and Third Reconnaissance Platoons will be joining your platoon. And one more thing."
The colonel took out his d'k tahg, sliced his palm, allowed blood to drip onto his blade, then laid it on Fire Team... No, First Recon Platoon Leader's chest.
"For the blood you shed in my name, I welcome you to House Lam'mrk."
Pins and needles jabbed at him from his shoulder to his fingertips as his hand moved to the weapon's hilt. He raised his other hand and moved the blade to make the cut. He was stopped in the gesture by the Colonel's hand.
"Your blood is too thin already. Shed no more today."
"I am honored, ra'wI"
"House Lam'mrk is honored to accept you. Heal today. In six days I will have need of your unit."
"We will be ready."
When the Colonel left the tent, Fire Team iii Subleader entered.
"You are awake. And I see the Colonel has given you a new knife. I suppose you won't need this one." She held his father's watsai, the one he lost on the battlefield.
"How did you..."
"I found it lodged in a ravager's spine. The Colonel had us count the kills. We couldn't count the ones killed with bullets, but you left a trail any hrn could follow after your ammunition ran out."
"You came back. I told you to retreat."
"No, you told me to lead them. I did. You inspired a rally, you know. The line had collapsed, but from the shield we could see you out there killing and falling back, killing, and falling back. When we found the ammunition crates and reloaded, we went back to help get you out. Not that you needed help. The rest of the command was inspired. They fell upon the Fek'lri like a wave."
"That explains this." He lifted the d'k tahg. "Subleader, what can you tell me of the new platoon?"
"I am now Fire Team i Leader of First Reconnaissance Platoon."
"I didn't know..."
"Fourteen members of I Company survive. Your fire team is the only one still intact. The One With The Lopped Ear from Fire Team iv and The One With The Scarred Cheek from Fire Team i are with us. All the others are from different platoons."
"A hard day. Who is our Captain?"
"You. Company I consists of First Recon Platoon. I think you report to The Colonel."
"Is that... how many?"
"3356th Light Infantry Regiment now consists of just over two hundred warriors."
"All right now," said an Orion medic. "Unless you have something really important to say, I have work to do."
"Do your work," snapped Fire Team i Leader.
"He won't want you to see what comes next. Out!"
"Get a feel for the unit. This is going to be difficult, but we have only six days. Dismissed, Fire Team Leader."
Her lip curled at the Orion, but she left. The Orion began to take straps out of a cart and arrange them on the cot.
"How bad are my injuries?" First Platoon Leader asked.
"Not severe, but you had so many you lost about half your blood."
"Is that why I hurt all over?"
"That is from the lactose buildup in you body. You must have burned about a quart of adrenaline to get that much. You almost died of toxic shock before we figured that part out."
He took one of the straps and began to lash force Leader's leg to the cot.
"What's that for?" Force Leader asked.
"My safety," the medic replied. "I have to tend your cuts to prevent infection, and the treatment hurts!"
"I can tolerate it."
"I'm not betting my life that you can," the Orion said as he lashed force Leader's other leg to the cot.
As it turned out, Force Leader was wrong. And the straps probably did save the medic's life.
***
That's my fault. In Star Fleet Battles, Lyrans were used instead of Caitians due to copyright issues, and when I wrote Chuss in my fanfic I made his homeworld orbit Beta Lyrae E, one of the two yellow stars of the Beta Lyrae group, so that he could be a Lyran. You'll note that Chuss is distinctly different from canon Caitians. (If you haven't read my fanfic you probably won't note this.)
In the post above I showed that the Sheliak world orbited Beta Lyrae C. The stars share an orbital center, but are as far apart as Proxima and Beta Centauri. The two races would have been able to communicate via radio before ever they left their worlds in slowboats, and long before warp development turned years of travel between the worlds into days.
And 15 Lyncis is still Cait. It's just not the world we're on here. The Caitian Diaspora happened over a great many years, and a great many attempts to find and found a new homeworld were made. Even in Canon, Cait isn't the only Caitian homeworld.
For the uninitiated:
The Beta Lyrae Star is known as Sheliak in our real world. It's actually a group of six stars.
A is a bright blue giant star which at one point expanded until it engulfed its companion, which began to eat it. The resulting competition resulted in a massive debris disc which occludes B.
B is probably a blue giant too, but it is hidden in the debris and in the glare of A. Presumably it's still devouring A.
C is also a blue giant in orbit of the common center of B and A, but at a comfortable distance.
D is an orange main-sequence dwarf, also in orbit of the common center.
E is a yellow dwarf marginally larger than Sol.
F is the twin sister of E
This Story is why Lyrans were placed here in Star Fleet Battles, acknowledging the origin of Caitians as Kzinti from Niven's Known Space stories without infringing on Niven's Known Space copyrights.
All of that said, I am a huge fan of patricngo's work. His level of creativity and his ability to give life to his worlds are awe-inspiring. I can't wait to read what he writes next.
Kzinti are not, of course, native to Cueball - nothing is. But kzinti and Beta Lyrae connect at that point, so placing a world of the Caitian Diaspora around one of the Sheliak stars is a nice touch.
Jon's Post, supplemental: And only after typing all that do I realize that Brian linked a Wikipedia article about the story in his post. I just liked Niven's older stuff.
Dr. Alice Gill, Xenomythology 204, Starfleet Academy, 2396-97
From The Book Of Fables, Ferasa, 2287
From A Translation of Loresinger Of hrm'Oulaww Mountain Tribe's rendition of The Tale Of The Green Pearl, as recorded by Dr. Alice Gill of the Ferasan Expedition of 2381.
From The Book Of Honor, Cait, 2305 (a collection of what in human terms would be Caitian Fairy Tales)
The natives of the inner star were truly alien, and their world was unsuitable for Klingon colonization. Their ships were exploring the gaudy jewel of the binary pair in the center of their multi-star system, but they were not yet warp capable. Within the decade after the batlh HoH's passing, the Sheliak would become warp capable. Indeed, they would become a major supplier of rare minerals to the Empire in time, but they had little interest in the almost barren outer stars of their system.
The inhabitants of The World Of Our Mother had just achieved the first interplanetary flights within their own star's orbit, and were building a vessel capable of reaching the Sheliak star when the batlh HoH arrived. Its captain, B'rassa Daughter of Molka, of House Gaanlh, thought to have an easy time subduing the world.
With her was a telepath of the Ferasans, and she thought to use it as a translator, and an example that Klingons would be benevolent to their subjects. This turned out to be a mistake. She, with one hundred warriors of the Empire, came into the Arcade of Sunlight and Shade where Patriarch M'rragh held court. She showed holograms of the subjugation of Ferasa, enumerated the privileges enjoyed by the Mountain Clans which had submitted to their rule, and threatened the fate of the lowland Ferasans would befall them if they sought to stand before the might of the Empire.
The Ferasan telepath translated, but she was unable to endure the hateful thoughts of the assembled lords of the Beta Lyran Golden. All around her their thoughts were of rending her, and her mind was unable to probe the thoughts of any one, surrounded as she was by the projections of hate. Thus it was that she failed to warn her Captain in time.
It was the ship in orbit which saw the first signs of trouble: the people were abandoning their city. His call to his captain warning her of the event was the trigger, and the Golden Lords fell upon the Ferasan, her Captain, and the guards. Only a handful managed to beam back to their ship.
The city of M'rragh was burned from orbit, but with the best troops already dead, the First Officer chose to destroy everything in orbit, take such prisoners as he could from there, and return to the Empire. Over the next two centuries there were multiple attempts to conquer the world, but each, after some successes, ultimately failed. The Sheliak grew in power over this time, learning by watching the Klingons, and developing their own technology at a rapid pace. Though they never interfered, the Klingons were reluctant to use the world-killing technologies at their disposal, perhaps fearing that the Sheliak would imitate them, or perhaps fearing the Sheliak would become involved. Neither scenario was desirable due to the value of the Sheliak as trading partners.
The Treaty On The Bones Of M'rragh was ratified and thereafter the Klingons gave up their attempts to conquer the world, but under the terms of the treaty, individuals and groups would continue to raid the world as training exercises. The Beta Lyrans accepted because the terms of the treaty forbade the use of weapons not possessed by both sides. Klingon disruptors, especially from orbital ships, had killed whole villages, and the former cities had all been abandoned as too inviting for orbital weaponry.
On Beta Lyrae there was no settlement larger than a village, and yet they had fought the Klingons to a standstill time and time again. The treaty placed their villages and the towns which they would soon become off limits for raids. It became a time for Heroes again, as in the old folk-tales they so cherished. Solitary hunters ventured from village to village, town to town, fighting off Klingons and bringing news and knowledge of the world beyond their village fences. The names of their greatest heroes were recorded in the local Book Of Heroes.
As the power of the local lords grew, the patriarchs subsumed the various Books, forming libraries of lists of heroes and their deeds. It became a kind of prestige among the greatest of the patriarchs as to who held the most books, and the books with the most distinguished names, until at last all of The World Of Our Mother was under the authority of one Patriarch of Patriarchs.
The period of the Treaty lasted from approximately the 1880s of Earth until the arrival of the Federation Starship USS Yi Sun-sin in 2251. Though the treaty remained, the Klingons chose to withdraw from the area when the Sheliak and Federation came to the verge of war. The Sheliak were left with undisputed dominion over the territory under a treaty so complex that a century later semanticists were still discovering new implications in its thousands of pages, paragraphs, and footnotes.
To distinguish the Sheliak from the Caitian the Sheliak were given the human name of their star, as seen from Earth, while the Caitians were named Beta Lyrans for its location in the Lyrae constellation. Note that from Earth the centermost three suns appear to be a single star while the outermost three are not visible at all without powerful telescopes.
When one considers that the races share a common ancestry as recently as two millennia ago, it is even more surprising that their mutual hatred is as strong as it is, and that the intervening centuries have not served to mitigate it. But their myths give us a glimpse into the origin of the feud, and the fact that the same myths are shared by both cultures allows us to examine the feud from both sides.
In the Caitian Origin myth, which we have studied earlier in the semester, the Fanged God divided the land between his two eldest sons, with the third, deformed son taking the regions neither wanted. However, in the Ferasan version of this tale, the elder son was given all of the world to rule. The second son was jealous and begged his mother to intercede on his behalf. She is reported, in the myth, to have said, "You are strong and cunning. Take what you want."
Thus, from the point of view of the 'Golden Ones,' the 'Dark Ones' stole their world, while from the other point of view, the 'Dark Ones' were cheated of their inheritance and had to fight for what they deserved. In both cases the other was the cause of their feud.
Let us examine the stories of The Final Days for comparison. In the Caitian version:
And in the Ferasan version:
If you will note, both report the same events, but both blame the other for the destruction of Ferasa from which it would require three hundred years for them to rebound, only to be engulfed by the Klingon Empire just as they became capable of space travel again. And both overlook a simpler answer: there was a third group involved. The Mountain Clans, when I visited as a member of the Cultural Outreach program in the 2380's, made no secret of their belief that the nuclear attacks on the lowland cities was their doing.
Dr. Alice Gill, Xenomythology 204, Starfleet Academy, 2396-97
Transliterated by Masha Aktay from the tale as told by Chuss of Beta Lyrae in the Earth Year 2414.
"So the Caitian stories of the Green-eyed warrior who speaks to ghosts may be based in fact?"
"I am unfamiliar with the tales, but so far as I know the Caitians do not practice the disciplines which would be required for the creation of a sustainable katra. Perhaps their methods are different from those practiced by Vulcans. As I understand it, they use a form of hero worship, or reverence for their honored elders. Perhaps this is sufficient to channel the katra of an elder as he prepares for his death."
"Could it be done accidentally? In such a way that the dying one is unaware of, and makes no attempt to perform the procedure?"
"In the Vulcan tradition, while the actual transfer of a katra is quick, it is the culmination of extensive and exhaustive training and discipline. Of course, the Vulcan way may not be the only way, but it is the only one I know. However, I have had occasion to wonder if the so-called ghosts of Earth legend are not human katras. If untrained human telepaths can create sustainable katras which survive the death of their bodies, there is no reason to suppose any other species might as well. However, I must remind you that this is mere speculation and not based upon scientific observation."
"How would you know if a Caitian carried the katra of a deceased loved one?"
"Telepathic contact is one way, though if the katra were to hide itself, it might go unobserved."
"So the Caitians would know if the katras of their ancestors were still around?"
"Again, that depends on many factors, such as the willingness of the Caitian telepath to seek out such katras, the relative strength of the katra formed by an undisciplined mind, and the social conventions of Caitians in dealing with their dead. A Vulcan telepath would quickly identify a katra if he were alert to its presence. Otherwise, Vulcan telepaths do not, as do Beta-Zed, continually read the minds of others. I am uncertain of the Caitian mores and attitudes regarding the use of telepathy."
Still, large segments of the fleet dropped out of the migration sooner, and some were said to have continued onward long after the fleet was disbanded. There was, among the Caitians, a subrace known as the Mountain Clans, the majority of whom remained on Ferasa, and can still be found there, often serving in segregated units within the Klingon military. As with the Klingons, the Caitians used them as scouts and skirmishers.
It is incredible to think, from our point of view, that there was no interbreeding between the Caitians and the Mountain Clans during this time, but this is the recorded history of the time. Indeed, the Catians made the deal that, once they found worlds to settle, the fleet would be given to the Mountain Clans to go where they would, to whatever purpose they chose. Long after the Caitians settled their ships continued to fly, many acting as communications and cargo carriers between Caitian worlds. But in time technology wears out, and eventually the salvage of vessels could not sustain the repair and operation of the few remaining functional ships.
It appears the Mountain Clans all settled one world, Regulus V, with a large number of Caitians, and on this world they did interbreed. Whether their numbers were always small or whether they were decimated by some unrecorded catastrophe is unknown, but they occupy a small arc of mountains on a temperate subcontinent, and their presence was discovered only after the discovery of a crashed colony ship on the small moon the Regulan Caitians call K'Tirr's Eye.
While it is difficult to contact the isolated and isolationist clans of Regulus, some efforts have been made. They seem to prefer a primitive lifestyle, their homes are simple, not much better than animal dens in shallow caves, and they live by the chase rather than agriculture or husbandry. Their songs glorify the lifestyle, and their culture is built around individuality and personal skill.
Thus it was quite surprising to me to discover they had retained literacy. Their animal hide scrolls and their blood-based inks record tales of their past, genealogies, and the names of great heroes. In several of their tales there is mention of a Library, though when I asked, I was told it was allegorical.
As to their original spacecraft, who can say where they ended up? Some may be out there yet, still moving at just below the speed of light, hunting among the stars, their crews having forgotten what they were seeking.
Dr. Alice Gill, Xenomythology 204, Starfleet Academy, 2396-97