Species mimicking the physiology and behavior of flatworms are abundant on this world, as are leeches, mosquitoes, etc., so the familiar can certainly be found. Other creatures defy comparisons through relentless evasion or self-indulgent aggression. I’m struck, however, by how some apparently related species can exhibit such profound elemental similarities yet share so few behavioral or even physical characteristics. The Grik, or Grik-like beings, are prominent examples.

The Sa’aaran Lawrence, was our first confirmation that the Grik-like form is the dominant advanced physiology on this world, yet we subsequently learned the form lent itself to the most amazing variety and adaptation—or environmental evolution, if you will. We now know there are land Grik, flying Grik, amphibious Grik, and every other kind of Grik in between. Just as astonishing was our discovery that the Grik form is by no means culturally—or intellectually—monolithic. This created considerable confusion at the time, but also gifted me with a vast new sphere of speculation.

Given the multiplicity of adjustments the Grik form has achieved, is it possible that some levels of intelligence are more favorable to physical evolution than others? I’m convinced that humans and Lemurians attained technological sentience, for lack of a better term, far earlier than any Grik-like species yet encountered. Both adapted to environmental survival imperatives by employing intellectually devised tools. But the Grik-like forms apparently lingered at what I consider a “wolf-pack” level of sentience far longer, due to a superior, if more specialized, physiology. Sentient in the sense that they had some concept of self, social graduation, and perhaps “us versus them,” they exploded in all directions and swiftly, physically changed to fill a variety of ecological niches.

Ridiculous? Perhaps, but such precipitous transformations are not unique. It is theorized that viruses spontaneously mutate in such a way. I remember the dreadful influenza outbreak at the end of the Great War all too well. It had to come from somewhere, and unless it simply popped into existence, it must have quickly changed from a relatively benign form into perhaps the most universally virulent disease of modern times. Pray God nothing like it ever appears here.

I shouldn’t compare Grik-like forms to viruses, though some seem just as deadly. I certainly mean no offense to my dear friend Lawrence. I only mean to illustrate the possibility of dramatic, stunningly rapid change, in the grand scheme of things. I know little of microbiology and nothing of what mechanisms influence viral mutations, but I doubt they can transform more advanced forms so readily. I am compelled to speculate.

Minor physical adaptations occur in complex species all the time. Feral pigs quickly dominate lands that cannot cope with them, and grow indistinguishable from their wild ancestors over very few generations. (The “Holy” Dominion could serve as a human analogy to this from a societal perspective. Even technologically, they remained stagnant at best. Only their numbers and competition with the Empire of the New Britain Isles left them military parity. Otherwise, the sum of their culture had become more primitive and barbarous than any contributing component part.) In both instances, Doms and feral pigs, this is not evolution, but reversion to a previously realized form—if the pigs of this world and the last will forgive the comparison.

Imagine, however, the influence an insistent environmental imperative might have on a midrange intellect that perceives a requirement for profound adaptation on a subconscious level but cannot make the essential intellectual leap to achieve it by intuitive creativity. In other words, is it possible for a species to wish strongly enough that it can fly, for example, while lacking the intellect to recognize a fully formed desire to do so, that it might accelerate a physical adaptation? A less intelligent creature might plod along to eventual extinction. Greater intelligence might find a way around the need to fly—or construct an artificial means of doing so. But what of the species that wants to fly so badly, to escape danger or reach inaccessible food sources, that it tries for generations in spite of a physical inability? Might not an ineffectual leap eventually be combined with flapping arms? Might not, let us say, already somewhat feathery Grik-like creatures with superior plumage gain more height and duration of suspension, thereby achieving social acclaim, and be rewarded with breeding opportunities? Would not such societal encouragement result in more rapid, physical evolution than is possible for species without similar intelligence or incentive?

Warfare accelerates technological development. This is a fact observed even in the Dominion, where literacy was repressed to an almost Grik-like extent. The instinct to survive stimulates creativity like no other force. Might this not be seen as artificially accelerated intellectual evolution?

Once, in a moment of despair, I proclaimed the Grik the logical evolutionary masters of this world. That analysis was based on their physical perfection; hyperspecialized to kill, and what I imagined then as their almost antlike discipline and disregard of self. I was wrong. I now believe the Lemurians, with no assistance from us at all, should have eventually prevailed. It might have taken a thousand years, but their creative lethality would have surpassed the physical lethality of the Grik, whose very specialized physiology would have become a disadvantage.

All Grik-like forms evolved as apex physical predators, but the very attributes that make them so deadly with tooth and claw make it difficult for them to use, build, or even imagine the increasingly sophisticated weapons Lemurians could have made—eventually—to kill them. Sadly, however, just as the destroyermen of USS Walker and others came to aid the Lemurians, some Japanese survivors of Amagi aided the Grik. Not only did this accelerate the confrontation, but it created a technological parity that would never have existed otherwise, in my opinion. Perhaps I am mistaken again. The Grik are obviously capable of intellectual evolution, and if my notion of societally accelerated physical evolution has any merit at all, I suppose they could have found a way.

Ultimately however, technology can take you only so far—at least until your ability to apply it catches up. I’m often reminded of the battle at Isandlwana during the late Zulu wars—where all the bravery and technological advantage in the world could not prevail over sheer numbers, determination . . . and sharp objects.

—Courtney Bradford, The Worlds I’ve Wondered University of New Glasgow Press, 1956