ORIGINAL ARTWORK © DAVID MKRTCHYAN
(Excerpt...)
ELEPHANTS
As Captain Siamanto Njteh Karamaronian, Commander of the Intergalactic Armenian Forces, First Expeditionary Group, approached what he was now sure was the Plain of Avarayr, he couldn't help but feel anxious.
After all, he was now at the edge of the Battle of Vartanants, one of the greatest struggles waged by the Armenians of Earth--his ancestors--whose genetic and epigenetic code ran through his veins and mind. It was also one of the most important military conflicts scrutinized at the Academy and, moreover, throughout the Intergalactic Education System, if not for its strategic value and the military prowess of the belligerents, then for its cultural currency--its weight--within the algorithm of Armenian Warrior identity that had come down through the ages.
Vartanants had become a battle wherein the Armenians of the Great Highland--against huge human and materiel odds--chose to stand and fight rather than betray their beliefs and religion under threat and duress.
This was one of the main primary directives that, at first glance, reeked of obstinance and rigidity, but whose message on closer scrutiny and, particularly, through the real experience of anyone who had ever strove and fought for anything of value, became glaringly clear--that if you were to bow down, even once, to a greater foe, that one time may very well sound the death knell not just for you, but for a whole people and their future.
Moreover, the Captain clearly knew, as his Warrior ancestors before him, that all things under the Sun--any sun--fought tooth and nail to be alive and to be alight with life. Whether flower or fox, whether panther or petunia, quark or quasar, all things struggled bravely to be themselves, and, this was part and parcel of the tenets that drove the Intergalactic Armenians' endless struggle in defense of Light through the millennia.
It was a commitment to act on principle and right and justice and truth, even if you are knocked down and killed, for the memory of such strategy and martial acumen sent shockwaves of epigenetic code through the generations producing greater and greater warriors and stalwarts.
Actions were, in fact, never in vain, and, even in death, echoed the most potent and pristine affirmations of life.
Actions taken were the stories of the future and, now, it seemed, that future was meeting its past.
As important and as complex all of this was in the great scheme of things, something else propelled Captain Sio's now unstoppable beeline towards Avarayr--and that was the Elephants.
Yes, the Elephants...
The Battle had enchanted the Captain even as a child watching extrapolated holographic renderings of what the battle must have looked like--the soldiers and their uniforms, the headdresses and weaponry, the horses and terrain. And, now, Captain Siamanto had to admit to himself that despite the fear and anxiety that accompanied him today--for he was transgressing all sorts of universal laws of time travel and physics--he was excited not only to see and be a part of history in the making (although the consequences could be dire), but because he may actually see the Elephants.
Just the thought of them made him tremble with excitement as the same obsession he felt as a child overtook him while he peered across this new landscape. He was alight with some new fire and stood tall as he shouldered his Mosin-Nagant X- 93 Matter Demodulator and placed his Mauser Infinity Master 9000 into its custom holster. He could hear the crew scattering as Davo, the Consult Screen, transferred himself into his mobile unit--something the Captain both dreaded and welcomed. Davo was complicated enough within the confines of the Consult terminal, but with ambulatory capabilities and semi-sentience, he became something else altogether.
Even the slew of issues facing them in this new environment and those still awaiting them upon eventual departure could not distract Captain Siamanto from thinking about the Elephants. He imagined the huge armored beasts, these pachyderms of yore, stomping across the plain as he had seen in the holographic history sessions so many times and in so many childhood dreams thereafter. Would they look the same? Would they be as huge and imposing as he had imagined? Would they sport armored plates and spikes, sharp against blue skies, sharper still against human flesh?
Oh, to actually see the Elephants, even though they had been or, rather, were now being used against his people by the Persian army.
After all, he was now at the edge of the Battle of Vartanants, one of the greatest struggles waged by the Armenians of Earth--his ancestors--whose genetic and epigenetic code ran through his veins and mind. It was also one of the most important military conflicts scrutinized at the Academy and, moreover, throughout the Intergalactic Education System, if not for its strategic value and the military prowess of the belligerents, then for its cultural currency--its weight--within the algorithm of Armenian Warrior identity that had come down through the ages.
Vartanants had become a battle wherein the Armenians of the Great Highland--against huge human and materiel odds--chose to stand and fight rather than betray their beliefs and religion under threat and duress.
This was one of the main primary directives that, at first glance, reeked of obstinance and rigidity, but whose message on closer scrutiny and, particularly, through the real experience of anyone who had ever strove and fought for anything of value, became glaringly clear--that if you were to bow down, even once, to a greater foe, that one time may very well sound the death knell not just for you, but for a whole people and their future.
Moreover, the Captain clearly knew, as his Warrior ancestors before him, that all things under the Sun--any sun--fought tooth and nail to be alive and to be alight with life. Whether flower or fox, whether panther or petunia, quark or quasar, all things struggled bravely to be themselves, and, this was part and parcel of the tenets that drove the Intergalactic Armenians' endless struggle in defense of Light through the millennia.
It was a commitment to act on principle and right and justice and truth, even if you are knocked down and killed, for the memory of such strategy and martial acumen sent shockwaves of epigenetic code through the generations producing greater and greater warriors and stalwarts.
Actions were, in fact, never in vain, and, even in death, echoed the most potent and pristine affirmations of life.
Actions taken were the stories of the future and, now, it seemed, that future was meeting its past.
As important and as complex all of this was in the great scheme of things, something else propelled Captain Sio's now unstoppable beeline towards Avarayr--and that was the Elephants.
Yes, the Elephants...
The Battle had enchanted the Captain even as a child watching extrapolated holographic renderings of what the battle must have looked like--the soldiers and their uniforms, the headdresses and weaponry, the horses and terrain. And, now, Captain Siamanto had to admit to himself that despite the fear and anxiety that accompanied him today--for he was transgressing all sorts of universal laws of time travel and physics--he was excited not only to see and be a part of history in the making (although the consequences could be dire), but because he may actually see the Elephants.
Just the thought of them made him tremble with excitement as the same obsession he felt as a child overtook him while he peered across this new landscape. He was alight with some new fire and stood tall as he shouldered his Mosin-Nagant X- 93 Matter Demodulator and placed his Mauser Infinity Master 9000 into its custom holster. He could hear the crew scattering as Davo, the Consult Screen, transferred himself into his mobile unit--something the Captain both dreaded and welcomed. Davo was complicated enough within the confines of the Consult terminal, but with ambulatory capabilities and semi-sentience, he became something else altogether.
Even the slew of issues facing them in this new environment and those still awaiting them upon eventual departure could not distract Captain Siamanto from thinking about the Elephants. He imagined the huge armored beasts, these pachyderms of yore, stomping across the plain as he had seen in the holographic history sessions so many times and in so many childhood dreams thereafter. Would they look the same? Would they be as huge and imposing as he had imagined? Would they sport armored plates and spikes, sharp against blue skies, sharper still against human flesh?
Oh, to actually see the Elephants, even though they had been or, rather, were now being used against his people by the Persian army.
ORIGINAL ARTWORK © DAVID MKRTCHYAN
Captain Siamanto stopped day-dreaming for a moment and focused on explaining, as best he could, the current quantum conundrum and their miscalculated arrival at Avarayr to his guests, some of whom were near comatose after all that had occurred. His crew and staff had no need for explanation since, sadly, this was not the first such time-space debacle to which they had been party.
The Captain reiterated that his guests would be staying with the crew in or near the craft, while Captain Siamanto and his team would be soon finding a resolution to their dilemma, as well as conduct some "important experiments" near and at the site of the coming battle.
There were no objections to this plan from the guests or crew, except for the Prince, something Captain Siamanto had not only expected, but secretly had hoped would be the case. Captain Siamanto turned to the Prince and their timeless Armenian eyes locked into a gaze that really needed no words to be understood.
"My dear friend and Captain--my brother from so far off in time--you and I recognized each other so deeply from the first moment at Mher's Door... You know that we are different, but we are the same... Were our roles reversed, I could never deny you participation in this impossible opportunity... In fact, I would be offended if you did not join your brother in this great joy that only the warrior knows..."
Captain Siamanto's eyes softened and the two embraced one another, truly, like long lost brothers as they were to embark on a mission no one could ever have imagined.
It was then that Captain Siamanto really noticed that the Prince was still armed, having carried upon his person that which no one could ever take from him--his Dasnots, the German Broomhandle Mauser (Model 1894), the hallmark of the Armenian Freedom Fighter, a ten-shot, pistol of exquisite design chambered for and firing a .30 caliber bottleneck round. The pistol was ahead of its time in so many ways--futuristic design, a longer, tapered barrel than most, perfectly balanced with an accurate elevation sight at the rear for distance and wind compensation. The whole firearm was put together like a puzzle--there were no screws involved in its assembly, save for the one in its simple, but fine, walnut grip.
It was a sight to behold and it could be used as a carbine once fitted onto a shoulder stock which doubled as its wooden holster.
He had learned all this from his research at the academy, but he had no way of ever seeing an actual Broomhandle save for copies that had been produced for inquiry at the Polygon.
"Magnificient...!" Captain Siamanto chimed as he stared at the Dasnots.
Captain Siamanto eyed the holstered weapon and the Prince noticed his growing interest.
"It certainly does not compare to the type of weaponry you must be used to, but if my Dasnots interests you, please...," the Prince said releasing the Mauser from his belt with a growing smile on his face.
Captain Siamanto's eyes grew wide as his hands shyly reached for the Mauser with all the wonder of a child.
The Captain and the Prince spoke for some time about their weapons, sharing features and tales from their experiences. The Prince was amazed beyond words at the advances that had been made in martial technologies on all fronts.
He had so many questions.
"All in due time," he thought to himself, "there is now great work at hand..."
Captain Siamanto, the Prince, Davo, and two other team members were soon off, across their new terrain, towards the Plain of Avarayr proper, navigating this foreign land and time with the help of the Galactic Positioning System which was able to render their exact positions vis a vis the battlefield using interpolative algorithms which compensated for not only global erosion, climactic change, and topographic seismic nuances effecting the Earth at this time (451 AD), but also continental drift and earth core fluctuations while providing guidance to the warriors.
According to the navigation and time-space calculations, Captain Siamanto and friends would arrive safely to the battlefield before it actually became such, prior to the first clash of swords.
But, as they say, "Man plans, but quantum magnetic fields may not give a shit."
Instead of eerie silence followed by the sounds of distant preparations, a great hum and bustle--a growing din--became audible as the small group pressed forward and Captain Siamanto began to realize that the battle of Avarayr was well under way, rather than just about to begin.
As they climbed toward the next rise, the din grew louder and voices yelling could be heard, as well as metal clanging against metal and the whir of arrows en mass in flight . As they reached the top of the rise, silence reigned among the group as all of them, whatever and whenever their stations had been, were confronted by a scene that none of them could have ever imagined.
Thousands of men, horses, chariots, archers, swordsmen of all type, servants and bearers of equipment, all a swirl, a tornado of human violence and suffering, a maelstrom, in the truest sense, was unfolding in front of their very eyes, and, yes, there--among the corps and corpses rising--an onslaught of armored Elephants could be seen whose grandeur and immensity could not be ignored.
The Pachyderms numbered possibly two score, at least at first glance, visible here and yon, peppering the field of battle. The Captain was beside himself and the Prince's eyes were ablaze, as Davo the Consult Screen, calculated probable courses of action.
Despite his usual state of excitement and paranoia, Davo was now the only one in the group that knew, without a doubt, they would be facing a grave problem, not from the Persian Army or their Armenian Brethren or the Elephants, for that matter, but from the universe itself. It became abundantly clear that their event horizon for departure was quickly shrinking even as they stood there in awe--some looking for a glimpse of the Armenian General Vartan, others a chance to mete out justice to the traitor Vasak, or perhaps to crush a murderous Persian general...
Or, as was the case for our courageous Captain, to somehow find an opportunity to commandeer and actually ride atop one of those glorious, armored behemoths before, once again, tumbling into the never.
--akm
© Ara Mgrdichian
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