Ohniaka III Wildlife | Oceanic Organisms
Elaboration behind the existence of Ohniaka III's unique maritime flora and fauna
When Cubesfall occurred in 2368, Ohniaka III was in the golden age of what its Earthen equivalent of the Devonian period would be (approx. planetary age: 3.9 BYO). The planet was beginning to produce seed-bearing and spore-spreading plants, beetle and arachnid-like insects were diversifying, and sentient ocean life was thriving in all kinds of shapes and sizes. It was at a crux point of how Ohniakan organisms would proceed on an evolutionary pathway- able to be steered down a myriad of biological pathways, depending on what the planet decided to throw at it next.
What the planet’s ecosystem did not expect, however, was approximately 250,000 metric tons of Borg technology falling from the sky and into its oceans.
As Cube 5219 fell to Ohniaka III, this vast amount of debris broke off from the cube and sank into the waves below, the Borg's self-replicating machinery suddenly finding itself amongst rudimentary sea life and other weather pattern slipstreams. Though the technology’s capabilities were still at full capacity, nanoprobes and other devices were without guidance uplinks from the Collective (thanks to Director Hugh’s reconnection and subsequent severance). As the debris drifted through the waves and sunk deep into the the oceans, remnant wreckage was incorporated into lifeforms by way of ingestion, respiration, or a matter of proximity, imprinting their biotechnological nature onto the makeups and structures of everything from titanic carnivores to colonial organisms.
Over the decade, Progenitor fishermen began to pull up catches with fish bearing photosynthesis sails instead of fins, the spines and ribs of amphibians were found to be inlaid with synthetic fiber tendons, and crustaceans began sporting metal-edged pincers (I’ve never seen defiance quite like the Ohniakan crawfish raising its tiny, alloyed claws at you). The full extent of their vessel’s impact on sea life wasn’t fully realized until the USS Keter arrived for Reconstitution and provided xBs the technology by which to start in-depth research on their oceans, shocked to discover what had been percolating for 10 years in their new home’s waters. Massive, siphonophore-like colonies imbued with all the aimless creativity of nanoprobes floated like great webs through the ocean, colossal fish with bioluminescent gills slunk through the depths, and mollusks not unlike squid and other invertebrates were caught with nanoprobe-stained chromatophores as they entered strange, symbiotic relationships.
Fishing and usage of seaborne textiles and resources became a prime staple of Ohniakan xBs. Despite the Capitol City and all its metropolitan, brutalist glamor, it has a thriving coastal culture as lush as the succulent-like plant life that adorn their buildings and streets. With xB scientists conducting marine biology expeditions, the Reclamation Project’s Engineering Division creating deep sea probes by which to plunge into their planet’s trenches, or a stall hosting a dozen Andorian xBs tossing iced fish to and fro in the harbor plaza, Ohniaka III’s oceans host more than just the remnant scraps of Cube 5219, and its wildlife has grown alongside this society’s fledgling culture.