The Mad Lemurs of Terra make sense if you realize that, for the most part, what we have seen is their military.

It's when you have seen the video entertainment, listened to the music, and seen the footage of their lives that now are nothing but memories, you begin to understand them.

They were mad, insane, crazed, yes. They lived life with such joy and abandon that to us, the ancient races, they seemed insane.

We lost something, dear reader. Something intangible, something we could barely understand. We elder races had lost something and we had lost it so long ago we had even lost the concept of what we had lost. We had no words, no concept, no conceptualization of what we had lost.

We did not even know we had lost it.

Seeing the Mad Lemurs of Terra throw themselves into life with such joyous abandon brought about a simmering resentment and anger. How dare they be happy, didn't they know that ultimately the universe's resources were finite and the only way for your species to survive was to hoard those resources and carefully shepherd them so that generations millions of years in the future could have a good standard of life?

How dare they enjoy themselves? How dare they create and enjoy entertainment medium? How dare they live, laugh, love, and hold fast to those around them?

We had anger, we had resentment, we had a grim duty to generations millions of years in the future. Didn't they understand? We had to sacrifice and suffer deprivation to ensure that when the stars began going out our people would have resources that none other would have.

To which the Mad Lemurs of Terra merely replied: Eat, drink, sing, dance, love, be loved, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die.

And when they did, en-masse, they did no give up.

Instead they sang. They danced. Even as they disappeared from the universe.

They left us behind.

To toil in the name of generations millions of years in the future.

How is it, that a being such as me, who will live centuries, who's people have endured for over a hundred million years and will endure tens of millions of years more, is jealous of the bright, brief flame of the Terrans even after it is gone out?

Is it better to be a lemur, dancing in the darkness, illuminated only by a candle that will only briefly burn oh so brightly, voice lifted in song that echoes through the darkness, than to be whatever it was that my people had become?- Excerpt from On Rocks and Lemurs, by Bygthu'unknmo'o, Lanaktallan philosopher, 75 Post C3.

He stepped into open air and dropped the five meters to the floor, the legs of the suit taking the drop easily, the knee and hock flexing. He stayed crouched down even as he moved out of the way. He was surrounded by what had to be clothing, all brightly colored. Some articles of clothing had pictures on them that moved, waving, jumping, making gestures, or doing other physical activities. A lot of the clothing that he assumed was some kind of short tunic or a shirt (it had to be, the lemurs weren't that different than him, physically. Bipeds with two arms at the upper torso, a head, a neck) had glyphs on them that he assumed was some kind of writing.

For a split second he wished that he was able to translate the language as easily as the Masters. The Masters could even translate their speech, which was vitally important since a lot of times the Inheritors yelled commands to one another rather than use a radio or a psi-link.

The others dropped, one by one, down into the aisle he was in, all looking around with wide eyes, their faces the only exposed part of them.

"We should sweep this place. I will go toward the front with two people, see if there are any kind of controls to make the windows go opaque like they were when we got here," he said.

The others signified affirmative and he chose two to come with him.

They moved through the vast store, pausing to look at the strange objects now and then.

There was a macroplas covered counter that contained nothing but sparkling gems and gleaming metals, that looked much like the items of power that the Masters wore, but with no phasic imprints or constructs within.

The mannequins gave them a start several times. Some moved, shifting position to show off the clothing they were wearing.

Twice he almost fired his weapon before he realized it wasn't a live lemur, merely the animated dummy showing off clothing.

"Make sure that your target is actually a lemur," he said over the psi-link.

i hear something food danger prey he heard faintly.

He signaled everyone to stop with a hand signal.

"Did anyone else hear that?" he asked over the psi-link.

Everyone signaled

food danger prey

that they heard nothing.

He frowned.

"Go to psi-link hungry silence. No so hungry transmissions," he ordered over the linkage. "Can everyone hear me?" he asked via voice.

Everyone signified they could.

They kept moving forward until they reached the windows at the front. They moved along the windows, looking at how there were lemurs just standing still outside, or had their faces pressed against the window, mouths open and eyes staring.

"They cannot be alive. Look at them," one said, pointing at a lemur who had part of their skull exposed but was still slowly rubbing their face against the glass as well as clumsily pawing at the macroplas.

"I think this one sees me," another said, standing in front of another window set.

The lemur was on their knees, slowly thumping their forehead against the macroplas. Their face was bluish, they had savage bite marks on it and their neck.

But their eyes were perfect, glittering and clear, and follows the other one as they moved to the left and right.

"See, I think it sees me," the other said.

He just nodded. "Don't play with it. It's dangerous."

The other nodded and moved away.

The lemur kept thumping its forehead on the macroplas.

Next to the set of five double-doors he found a control panel. He opened it and stared.

There were buttons and labels.

He couldn't read lemur.

There were a few pictograms and he jabbed on one button that had a set of crosshatches.

The others exclaimed in alarm when a grate rattled down over the windows and doors. The doors clanked as they maglocked down.

He jumped back from the noise, lifting his rifle, then lowered it sheepishly as he realized what had just happened.

"The front is secure," he said.

The others signified assent.

"Let us help the others," he said. "Remember, psi-links off."

They headed toward the back, taking a different route, moving fairly confidently.

After all, they hadn't seen any of the hideously aggressive lemurs, so it was probably safe.

"Where are you?" he asked over the psi-link.

"Through a door we hungry left open for you to so hungry follow us through. There are chairs, a i hear something a table, and weird prey is it prey machines we are staying so hungry away from," he heard back.

"There is something cold so cold strange with the psi-link, turn it off," he ordered.

As he disconnected he felt something, like cold clammy hands trying to hold on to him.

He frowned, lifting us his rifle, as he led the others past where the dummies were standing.

He was halfway past them when one stepped out, grabbing one of the suits arms.

The strength startled him as the lemur yanked him close, the other hand reaching out, grabbing the plasma launcher and bending it as he was pulled into a clumsy embrace.

Its eyes were white, its breath stank of carrion, its skin was yellowish green, hair matted, clothing stained with blood, dirt, and worse. Its teeth were yellow as it sunk its teeth into the shoulder of his armor, the thin layer of chitin shattering as the dead lemur clamped its powerful jaws.

He screamed, loudly.

He used the tentacles on the back of his armor, two of them, uncoiling them from the storage position. He wrapped one around the waist of the lemur, yanking it away.

The plasma caster came off, held tightly in the lemur's hand.

The other tentacle deployed its smooth blade and he stabbed at the lemur repeatedly until he managed to stab it through the top of the head.

The lemur went limp in his grasp.

Two other lemurs had stumbled out and were grappling with the two servitors that had accompanied him. One had managed to grab a tentacle and was chewing on it, the flexible biomechanical tissue ripping free in big chunks that the lemur chewed on and swallowed.

He moved forward, grabbing them around the waist and pulling the lemurs away. He used all eight of the tentacles, wrapping two around each lemur, trying to pin their arms, and stabbing at each of teh lemurs with two blades extended from the tentacles. The stab wounds did nothing until first one, then the other killed the lemur by plunging the blade into the top of their heads.

The other two dropped and the three servitors stood there looking at them.

"Is everyone all right?" he asked.

The other two nodded.

"Keep alert," he said, feeling slightly foolish.

The tentacle system in the back should have gone live and defended him at the first sign of hostility, or of something moving too fast and too aggressively.

He remembered the slow, almost lazy way they had moved.

As they moved through an aisle full of brightly colored things that squeaked, bounced, and tried to get attention he motioned for the two with him to stop.

He pointed at the door.

"The others are in there. We'll go in and close the door behind us, then figure out what to do. Remember your warrens combat training," he advised.

The others nodded.

There was a pleasant chime to his right and he turned to look.

A small keyboard device with pictograms on it had a hologram projected above it of a fruit. A lemur voice repeated a sound several times, flashing the fruit.

Curious, he repeated the sound.

The device beeped happily and he felt a slight flush of accomplishment.

The picture changed to an infant lemur and the chime rang out, then a different sound.

The other two servitors moved up next to him.

All three of them made the noise.

It flashed again and he felt pleasure.

It did it six more times, showing a feline, a canine, and other pictures, each time repeating the same sound over and over until one of them repeated it correctly.

"What is it?" another asked.

He frowned. "I am not sure. I think it is trying to teach us words," he reached out and picked it up. "I will take it with us."

"Without the Masters here, we cannot understand the lemurs speech," the other said.

He nodded. "We must learn their speech," he signified resignation. "We may be here for a while."

"Better here than on a battlefield getting killed and brought back over and over again," the another said.

He just nodded. "Stay alert."

He led them through the door, taking the time to tug the door away from the gentle magnetic pull that held it open. Then they followed the ferrocrete block hallway, looking at the signs, the glyphs, and the other strange things on the walls. They followed the blue line until it turned into an open doorway.

The others were in there, all ten of them.

"I pointed my weapon at that machine and it dispensed food," one said, holding up a thick brick of nuts and fruit.

"I did the same to that machine and it gave us liquid nourishment," another said.

"Excellent job," he said, moving forward as they others waved him forward. They were all sitting in chairs around the table, still in their armor. There was a pile of wrapped food bricks and cans of liquid refreshment on the table.

He was startled that he could sit comfortably in the chair even while wearing his armor until he remembered that the lemurs were his height in armor and would be twice his height if he was not wearing his armor.

"Observe what I have discovered," he said, laying the keyboard on the table.

The others watched as he activated it.

Again, it showed a picture, with large glyphs above it, and a lemur repeated a sound over and over until one of them repeated the sound. Each time they did it right, it gave a pleasing sound and often showed a capering dancing little creature that was pleasing to the eye.

"I think it is attempting to teach us the language," he said.

The others all nodded.

"We should eat, sleep while we have guard shifts, then start sweeping through these corridors," he said. He thought for a long moment, feeling the headache start. "We will close the doors, keep the lemurs from getting in. Then we will clear out each store one by one."

He picked up a bar and unwrapped it, marveling for a second at the holographic sparkles that shot out when he unsealed the wrapper.

"I like the back hallways. The corridors are big, but they remind me of the warrens I grew up in," one said, opening a bottle of juice. He sniffed it, then took a big swallow. "It tastes good."

"We'll stay in the back hallways. Lock the access doors to the stores," he thought for a second. "If there's some kind of basement access, we'll lock it too."

"My armor has recon drones," Another cocked his head for a moment. "Should we risk a drone? We can have the drone map the hallways, stay up by ceiling, make sure its on whisper mode."

"That'll take a long time," an other said, unwrapping a bar and expressing pleasure when it gave a happy sounding jingle and little sparks and whirls danced at the open end.

"We have nothing but time," he said. He nodded. "Send out the drones."

The other nodded, getting up and moving to the door.

"Stay in your armor. Go everywhere in twos or threes," he said. He motioned at another two. Stay near him, he's distracted. Watch for lemurs."

"It's taking a minute. My armor's phasic systems feel weird. Almost greasy," the other stated.

He sighed. "There's something wrong with the psi-link."

"I keep hearing whispers," one said. They leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. "I think it's the lemurs somehow."

He nodded. "Which means we cannot use it," he paused. "We cannot tell who is who without the psi-link. Do you remember your identifier?"

They all nodded.

"I am 689Vqz1," he said. He made a resigned noise. "I do not think that will be easy to say."

"We should think of things to call one another aside from the identifier the masters gave us," another said. They furrowed their brow in thought. "I do not know what to be identified by."

He thought hard.

"Well, I wish to be known as Vrodrukik, Destroyer of Lemurs," an other said, waving around a fruit and nut bar in each hand, referring to a fierce scavenger that lived in the lower warrens.

He snickered. "Maybe Vrodrukik, Destroyer of Snacks."

The others laughed. Even the other laughed.

"You know, Vrodrukik doesn't sound too bad," the one with the two nutribars said. "Naw, too long. How about Vrod."

He nodded. "That sounds good."

"Vrod, I like it," another said.

He thought for a moment. "J'Kethrik. The puzzles that we did in the creche. No, wait, J'Keth. I like J'Keth."

The others nodded as small fluttering drones, looking like four winged insects, buzzed from the shoulder of the armor of the one by the door. The three came back and sat down, grabbing more of the delicious nut and fruit bars.

One by one, they each chose names, based on what little they had encountered or experienced.

They ate, fumbled around until they found the light dimmer switch, then napped, leaving two to guard the two doorways that led into the room.

J'Keth tapped his rifle thoughtfully in the dimness as he pulled guard duty so the others could sleep.

They could do anything they wanted. The Masters were gone, devoured by the lemurs.

His head ached as he went through the options, slowly realizing that he didn't even know what all the options even were.

He decided to stick with two simple goals.

Not die.

Clear out the building so that it could be used as a nest.

It wasn't much.

But it was better than the "Fight the Inheritors and die" option that had been his only option for over a dozen lifetimes.