As you descend into the lunar atmosphere, an oceanic cloud bank swallows the ship blocking all sight and quickly layering the cockpit glass with dewy deposits of moisture. A flick of a switch electrifies transparent heating coils evaporating the water in seconds but doing nothing to remove the white masses concealing the planet's surface. Like any trained pilot, your eyes turn to your instruments practically ignoring the useless distractions outside. "Computer switch to short range scans only. I don't want to run into anything up here."
"Of course, Michael."
"You bet your sweet silicon ass 'of course'," you grumble, eyes still probing the many dials and digital read outs before you. 'Gas content, moisture levels, temperature; it reads like any tropical rainforest on earth only.. this cloud bank is immense. We should have cleared it minutes ago.' As if in answer to your request the clouds begin to disperse showing widening glimpses of a green world below. Soon you are looking down over a vast tropical rainforest, whose foliated expanse seems to have no end. "Shirley," you say using one of your many mock names for your artificial punching-bag, "I thought you said that the jungle was not the dominant ecotype on the moon."
"That is correct Michael. The contiguous forest below accounts for less than 1% of the globe's total biosphere." You blink, cynicism temporarily beaten back by wonder, 'one percent?!' The numbers hadn't lied about the moon's size, but they had failed to express it on human terms. The vista below you did, and it was growing larger by the moment as your descent continued.
"Alright Betty switch to bio-scans and find me the densest concentration of lifeforms, that'd be the city." The computer beeps, whirs and flashes through the task eventually responding with coordinates. "Alright then, now shut up baby and let the man work his magic." Smoothly and with no loss of ego you bring the craft down into the canopy. Trying not to gape at branches the size of suspension bridges, you keep your eyes open for a 'civilized' landing spot. You look for any hint of gray amidst the sea of brown and green that surrounds you. All appears wild and untamed. For a moment you think you notice something motionless, dark and splotched with green. 'Maybe the face of a building, overgrown with algae', but upon closer inspection you see it is just the gray-furred back of a monstrous mammal similar in shape and speed to an earth sloth The green lichen encrusting its fur had more in common, size wise, with the forests of your home planet.
Farther still you descend until the sunlight vanishes and unseen animals replace the visible monsters. 'Perhaps,' you think, 'the density of life picked up by the scan only reflected the packed nature of life in a rainforest and the city, if it was once here, is now long gone.
'Well,' you consider, 'if there's no buildings then there's no city. Might as well look for a cosey natural nook.' Within no time, your sharp eyes find exactly what the doctor ordered, a knothole the size of a space carrier's landing bay. Jetting thrusters to stabilize your altitude you bank the ship into the dark. Bow-lights reveal an almost tapestry-like wall of green foliage and you judge it to be flimsy enough to fly through. Like the brushes of a car-wash the viney tendrils drape and drag over the cockpit smothering all in green for a moment. When they drop away they display a quite unexpected interior.
Apparently the forest hasn't overgrown the city -- the forest is the city. Within the tree, giants lumber; neither human nor alien, but reminiscent of earth felines. Their stature, build, and general facial shape is 'humanoid' after a fact, but fur, ears, tails and a general cat-like grace betray their true nature. Before you can be mistaken for a bird, you cleverly kill all thrusters and let the ship drop, reigniting them only when the sensors scream at the approaching floor. A yank of the stick spins the ship away from the giant Cats. Hugging the wall all the way, you ease the ship behind some piece of furniture, to titanic to contemplate and set her down in the dusty shadows.
For a moment you pant to catch your breath, letting the adrenaline wash out of your system. Finally feeling the need for the rational grounding only a computer could provide you ask, "Kelly, how big are these aliens?"
"Which aliens, Michael," the computer responds with typical tediousness.
You wipe a hand across your now sweaty face in frustration, "the Cats, Veronica, the giant god-damned KITTY CATS!"
"Their average height based on data aquired so far is 82.3 feet, mass average is 45.7 tons."
"Great," you grumble, "I'm mouse sized... Sally I think I'm going to need you in the field for once."
"Michael I am honor..."
"Shut the fuck up," you interrupt her as you cram the zip-drive into her main port downloading her AI functions into the handy portable device. This you hook into the earphone that doubles as a phonics translator. "I love technology, lets hope us humans at least have that edge over these tree-hugging giants in that regard."
The computer speaks consolingly into your ear. "Michael I am detecting electrical and mechanical devices only. No quantum-technology is present outside of the ship."
"Cool, baby," you check your laser pistol, most brutal and simple of all the so-called 'quantum technologies', finding a full charge, "now lets do some exploring."
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