The only other planet in Pela's habitable zone always was a wonder to the people of Pelagis. It had one strip of clouds around the equator, a creamish yellow, and the rest was a beige desert with white ones. What was under the clouds around the equator, or what caused them to become yellow there but nowhere else, was not known. It had been named "Bacchus", after the ancient, ancient, ancient god of wine of the first, and real, Pelagians, so long ago on that planet not so far away.
The probe Hymenaios, named after the son of Bacchus, approached the thick atmosphere of Bacchus. As it slowed down in the atmosphere, it broke through the clouds and opened its drag parachute. Slowing to a speed no more than that of a falling skydiver, it rested on the ground, supported by its bottom airbag, which had inflated. The antenna, folded down for the trip through the atmosphere, rose. The camera turned on and transmitted pictures of the desert it had landed in. Apparently it was near the rainforest, for it seemed only a kilometer or so away.
Pa'ah moved his ears around. Hopping on the windowsill of his house, he saw the line of fire carved by the falling object. Apparently so had his fellow villagers, for they emerged from their houses to look.
The Bacchian - or Mee-uh, as the natives called themselves, house was the epitome of primitive ingenuity. Every one, no matter how small or large, was made of clay. Each slab of clay had four puncture marks from the worker's teeth, and turned into an hourglass shape from the pressure of the mouth carrying it. To a human visitor adapted to the artificial-looking houses they lived in, the Bacchian house looked like a mound. Like an igloo without an entrance passage or straight blocks. But what could you expect from a civilization of cats slightly larger than those back home? Grand palaces?
The Bacchians would have been in space by now - they were ingenious. Their minds might even be greater than those of humans, who wanted just to kill and progress. Unfortunately, they're less-than-ingenious bodies forbade them from getting any farther than the pre-Industrial Age. They knew of the world around them, and even had a knowledge of astronomy - it was general acceptance that the blue planet once in their skies rusted away like the metal of the hammers they could only just clutch with their paws, which lacked thumbs, but could still close because of added bones. Of course, the blue planet in their skies was Pelagis, and it had not "rusted away", simply been covered in city, but you couldn't blame them for getting it wrong, they couldn't reach it. Or could they?
The camera of Hymenaios spotted something in the distance, running toward it. It was the size of a small dog or lynx kitten. It couldn't identify it, but as the picture cleared, it had proven there was life on Bacchus: A cat had approached it.
