text: ast Cicones’ moons and the shining radiance of Helios, they turned their bow and set a steady path into the black. Odysseus, captain and chief navigator, stood alone on deck. The crew had long since retired to their cabins, yet Odysseus remained, troubled and pensive. Odysseus was not ignorant to the hardships of space travel. His father Laertes had been a Galactic Argonaut. From Odysseus’ home planet of Ithaca, Laertes participated in expeditions journeying to the far edges of the known universe. Odysseus had heard many times over the stories of his father: the capture of the mighty Calydonian alien, the venture across the Hellespont Nebula and the turmoil of the Stymphalian meteor strikes. All these exploits came to mind now, as Odysseus struggled with his own decision. The ship’s provisions could last only a week longer. Deep space scans gave hints at the possibility of an unexplored planet, possibly a moon, that existed within their fuel limits. If this planet was desolate and barren of life, they would surely perish. It was a risk then, a risk they could not afford. Odysseus dreamed of returning to Ithaca, if only to see the Neritum mountain range and the boundless lush forests that covered it. He would first have to go forward if he was to return. Days passed and the crew were informed. There was no disagreement among them, for there were no other choices than this. After another half’s day of blasting the thrusters, they rounded a small cluster of jagged hurtling asteroids and came into view of the planet. A cheer rose from the men as it appeared on the ship’s visuals. The planet was a green and orange blob, textured with crisscrossing streaks of deep blue. The blue was water, and with water came life. Odysseus immediately ordered preparations to enter the planet’s atmosphere. The thrusters fired slowly at first but the crew hastened Odysseus to accelerate. The ship pressed forward, nose-diving as the wings buckled erratically from the force of entry. Nearer they approached and faster they squeezed against the atmosphere, speeding up in high spirits of good food and drink, until fear of crashing compelled Odysseus to pull up and slow down. The deceleration was too late, and the ship was thrown headfirst into a shallow body of water a few hundred metres short of land. A mechanic had not strapped himself down and now lay in a small crimson puddle across the deck where he had landed. The crew did not have time to mourn the man. The medical staff were dispatched, and Odysseus gathered twelve of the bravest men to come ashore and search for supplies. The planet’s air was tested for toxicity and it was found to be as clean as Ithaca’s. Three sturdy blow-up rafts were taken from storage and placed into the water. Although shallow and up to knee-height where the ship was grounded, the body of water grew deep and opaque in its centre and the twelve men did not wish to swim where no man had swum before. Odysseus beckoned into the middle raft and urged his men aboard. As they paddled through the water, Odysseus observed the surroundings. Thickets and undergrowth wrapped the shoreline and a row of tall trees blocked visibility. Looking above the wall of arrowhead treetops, Odysseus was able to make out an outcrop of steep and craggy cliffs that lay just beyond the forestry. Upon tying the rafts to the shore and walking through the woodlands, the crew’s botanist searched and found no evidence of cultivation, with neither planting nor plowing but wild and unknown variances of wheat, barley and grape vines growing near the trees. It was a short while later that the thirteen men came across a three-legged beast, with two short and sharp horns, like a goat, and a furry exterior that coated his back and hindlegs. More of the beasts were discovered and the crew leapt at the opportunity. Odysseus cautioned the men from using fire power, as they did not wish to scare off the beasts nor bring unwanted attention to themselves. Short blades and rapiers were used, and the men dragged the carcasses of the small goat-like creatures to the shore. Some of the men were sent back on the rafts to fetch the rest of the crew, and Odysseus bade the men bring the wine they had bought from the interplanetary merchant Maron, son of Euathanes, which was to be used on a special occasion. Once the crew had assembled, a pyre was made from nearby firewood and the beasts were set alight. Each man gave a small portion of his meal in sacrifice to Zeus, the mightiest of the gods, and a portion of their wine to Dionysus, for his love of wine and merrymaking. Having partook in food and drink, while also replenishing the ship’s water holds from a nearby spring, Odysseus led his men back to the ship for the night. A knock on his cabin door from one of the engineers woke him. The engine was damaged, and the engineers would need time fixing it - at the least, they had said, a few days. This did not altogether displease Odysseus, as he wished to explore the landing site. The twelve most courageous men again volunteered and for as long as the light lasted, they explored the woodlands. Three days passed and no new discoveries were unearthed. More goat-like creatures were found, who were duly put-down and brought back to the ship, and the botanists began to map out the landscape. They located the lake’s position to be in fact at the base of a large valley with the forestry masking the sloping mountains around them. At the bottom of these mountains, from what they could see through basic scanning, there appeared to be caves entrances. Odysseus, hearing no new progress on the engines, planned an expedition to the caves. All but the thirteen men were to be left at the ship and an assortment of rations were divvied between them. Odysseus decided to bring along a receptacle of wine, seeing as he did not want the crew to drink the rest without him. They left at morning and arrived at the entrance of the cave nearing nightfall. Camp was set just outside, and the men prepared their libations to the gods before supper. As the morning light seeped in through the treetops Odysseus noticed the thirteen companions had dropped to eleven. Two of the men were missing. The cave took in no light from the outside world, as it was covered by the mountain’s overhang, and so it resembled a screen of black tar. Odysseus reassured the men by explaining that the two missing companions must have left to explore the cave early. They entered the cave and followed it downwards as the walls grew further apart and a large cavernous ceiling extended above them. Small flashlights were used to light the way and Odysseus now cursed his decision to leave the crew’s firepower back at the ship. They still possessed their rapiers for the goats and each companion now clutched his in their right hand. A soft scuttling sound, of dozens of tiny feet echoing on the cavern’s floor, was the first they heard of the creature. It was only moments later, after hearing this sound, that the companions discovered two white cocoons plastered to the rocky floor. The crew’s cook, one of the bravest, led another man over to the cocoons. They began to unravel the outer layers of the cocoon, revealing the pale cadavers of their former companions. It was in their moment of realisation that the creature, in pitiless spirit, pounced upon them. Dropping from the ceiling, the creature’s long talon-tipped legs darted for the men. It clasped each man and swiftly threw them back and forth between the cavern’s walls. Frozen from fear, Odysseus and the other eight companions could only watch helplessly as the creature beat the men and then wrapped the two warm bodies into cocoons. The creature resembled that of a gigantic arachnid in appearance, with sharp long legs and prickly skin, and its only distinguishable quality being its large singular eye. It moved meticulously between the four cocoons, tapping and feeling for movement, and after a short while, taking no stock of Odysseus or the others, it bit down into the two original companions and supped on their flesh. After taking its fill from the men, and leaving the two fresh cocoons for later, the creature’s pulsating eye wandered to the group. With the speed of Hermes, it jumped and clung to the cavern’s ceiling. Odysseus reached for his rapier, but the creature was uninterested. It crawled along the ceiling past the group of terrified companions and headed for the entrance. Odysseus deliberated on whether to chase the creature. He chose, rather, to run to the cocoons. Lifting his blade, he cut open the silk and checked the two men’s pulses. They were both freshly dead. Thinking fast, Odysseus unhooked the container of wine attached to his belt and poured its contents over the two cocoons. Having completed this task, he got up and resumed a tight circle with his companions. The creature scurried back along the ceiling, returning after a few minutes. The men waved their rapiers up at the creature, but it crawled past unconcerned. The group, slowly and timidly, edged further away from the creature as it passed. When they could no longer see the creature hanging from the ceiling above the cocoons, the men broke into a sprint towards the cave’s entrance. Reaching the top of the cave, they were met with a ghastly sight. A great white web had been thread across the exit. One of the younger men of the group lunged at the web and began hacking at the bonds furiously. His strikes were futile as not even the smallest cut or incision from his rapier appeared on the web. Odysseus halted the man and told the group of the wine and his plan. Odysseus made the men cast lots as to who would accompany him back down into the pit. The lots fell upon the four very men Odysseus would have chosen, and with himself as the fifth, they crept their way down. They found the creature slumped over the two cocoons asleep, its long talon-tipped legs holding the bodies close. One of the cocoons had been half-eaten, and Odysseus knew the wine had put him to sleep. Quick to observations, Odysseus realised the torso and head of the creature were protected by a thick body plating. Only the middle of the legs, from what he could see, were unprotected. Without disturbing its slumber, Odysseus urged the men forward lest they feel fear and cower before the creature. He directed two men to slowly, ever so softly, lift one of the creature’s many legs outright. He then tapped two of the other men on the shoulder to lift their rapiers as he was. In hushed whispers they counted down, and with heaven filling their hearts with courage, three great whistling swipes struck the leg. The creature immediately woke and recoiled from the pain. The two men holding the leg wrenched it from the slither of flesh that kept the leg intact after the three cuts inflicted by the rapiers. The creature drew itself to its full height and screeched a sharp agonising scream. The companion pulling the leg was immediately dashed against the wall by the creature. The other man with him managed to reclaim the leg from the ground and, in his last effort before being dashed himself, he threw the leg to Odysseus. Odysseus clasped the leg against his chest, heaving as he ran, and the three remaining men scampered up the cave. Barging his way through the rest of the group waiting in agitation, he held the sharp talon-tipped end of the creature’s leg and tore a hole through the web. The men burst from the cave and stumbled over each other to the tree line. The creature did not leave the entrance of the cave. Looking back as he ran, Odysseus watched the creature sit down on its haunches and begin to caress its broken leg. Believing he was safe out of arrogance, and full of hatred for his companions’ deaths, Odysseus jeered and spat at the creature. The men begged him to run. Seeing no reaction, Odysseus ignored the men and lifted the broken leg and threw it at the creature. The creature looked up and hissed, spitting an acidic bubbling projectile that barely missed them. Odysseus did not need more prompting; he swiftly turned and fled with the men. Crossing the lake and re-joining the crew, Odysseus was informed of the repairs and immediately took off. And as a more ancient Odysseus once spoke, “Then they took their places and smote the grey sea with their oars; so we sailed on with sorrow in our hearts, but glad to have escaped death though we had lost our comrades.