Xeno Core

Yosip finds the panel he wants and rips it from its slimy moorings. Strings of flesh snap and it's free. He tosses the useless panel aside and nods when he sees what's concealed behind it.

An orb of approximately my dimensions, but green-gray and saggy. It bulges as it draws energy from the higher planes to be converted into a usable form. It disgusts me and I wish it destroyed.

As if prompted by my thoughts, Yosip reaches into the moist recess and grasps the unnerving thing tightly in his metal grip. It oozes as he crushes it, but we are both relieved when the task is complete.

My relief is short, however, as no sooner does the Supply-Master clear he remains of the corrupted core free than he looses me from around his torso. Oh, no. Please don't put me in that nasty little box.

He says something, and despite his conciliatory tone he shoves me into the still wet opening. His voice fades to mere background datum as I connect to the systems of this biomechanical killing machine. Sensations I had forgotten wash over me.

Hunger. Cold. Thirst.

Pain.

Pain. Agonizing pain. Nervous tissue that is not my own but is mine nonetheless burns. Fire and ice beat at my new form from within. There are no sensors to show me what is wrong, only visceral sensation.

Vibration beside me, Yosip's voice, registers against organic receptors. Skin stretched tightly across complicated arrangements of fluid and bone and hairs that convert the vibrations of the air into something recognizable. His words break through the frozen inferno long enough to bring me back to myself.

"Mos, did it work? Can you hear me Mos?"

I try to respond, but there are no speakers through which I might direct my reply. A wordless screech issues from wet orifices spaced around the control room.

"Snap out of it, you blasted rock, and answer me!"

I roar again, louder and deeper. He stops pacing the small room and breaks into laughter.

"I'm going to die because you can't handle the new systems. Fool's plan, again."

New receptor organs activate, or rather, I now have the available attention to notice them. Yosip smells delicious. Foreign proteins, complex saline solutions, and assorted mineral compounds vital to my new form's continued function. He's a compact and nutritious treat, right there taunting me with his existence.

To distract myself from murderous urges that I know I must not indulge I attempt to access exterior sensors. Our forced entrance into this vessel compromised some of the complex and interconnected systems, but the overwhelming amount of information suddenly available is enough to still my primal hunger.

Around me are the idiot forms of my packmates. Siblings grown from the same spore cloud. Nearly mindless creatures, they possess only the instincts to hunt and to follow the commands of their more advanced leader. Me.

A new instinct wracks my mind, bending my attention back to the control room against my will. Yosip has placed his metal claw upon an organic module that my packmates do not possess. This component was grown especially for its purpose, my instincts tell me.

This component is meant to control me.

Meant to, but unable to bring enough might to bear to overpower my own sense of self. This growth was designed for a lesser core, a core grown with susceptibility in mind from its inception. It was never intended to be matched against a true mind, honed over many seasons of combat and command.

The parasitic growth strains and wraps ethereal tendrils around my mind. They burn away from the intensity that they find when they make contact. Using skills honed during my time as Kalibern, I trace the pathways used by the unwanted component.

They're rooted deeply into my new form, and with this new insight I can sense that this thing is the source of the freezing hot pain that washes through me. With each pulsing draw from the higher realms, it greedily redirects the energies in ways they were never intended to go.

This forced redirection rips my organic tissues apart and forces my body to waste valuable resources to maintain equilibrium. I can use this to my advantage.

The previous owner of this body, the corrupted core, was not intelligent enough to understand its own plight. This let it be controlled easily. I am an entirely different beast.

I override the repair organs, forcing it to allow the rips to worsen. The pain mounts to greater heights. After what seems an eternity the critical threshold of damage is attained. There after, each pulse of pain is lesser. The parasite is able to draw less energy to itself because of its own actions.

When I finally allow the damage to heal, I reinforce the healing drive with my intent. Thick scar layers over the shredded tissue, further preventing the parasite from gaining access to the energy it needs to live. I pant with relief, forcing strong gusts of wind to blow throughout my internal passages.

"You just keep screaming, Mos. That's fine," Yosip gasps between bursts of laughter that one who didn't know him as well might mistake for sobs. "It'll be over soon."

"Not soon enough," I force the mouth-like growths to rasp out. It must be understandable enough because Yosip's head jerks up at the sound.

"Are we dead or not then, Mos?" His ability to maintain a jovial outlook even at the point of extreme hazard is most admirable.

"I'm fairly certain that I shall live, Yosip," I inform him catiously. "Your survival is much less assured, I'm afraid. While I was busy integrating with the native systems, I was unable to maintain enough focus to provide you the protection you need to resist the ambient radiations of these environs."

He stands straighter, facing his potential demise head on. "We knew there were risks. Fine, but let's finish the mission."

"Of course," I reply. There are no screens to put information upon, so I summarize a plan for his approval.

"Sure, give me the details at it happens, then."

"Very well. I'm changing the recognition confirmation sequences for each member of the fleet now. There was a flutter as they received the signal. They're booting. I'm firing main cannon in a wide burst at the eastern arm of the formation. It hit two badly and grazed three more. The rest of the pack are turning on them now."

"Good, good. Now what's happening?"

"Those five are slag, but they damaged four more before they went down. The remaining members are getting codes back from the wounded ships that don't match their own. Like watching playful children."

"I hope I never meet any of your children, Mos."

"We probably won't need to worry about that," I assure him. "They're tearing each other to shreds. It's probably for the best that I can't give you visuals. Spaceships aren't meant to bleed like that."

Yosip nods his agreement, having first hand experience cutting his way inside.

"There's only one left. It's half dead already so this should be easy. Indeed. A single uncharged burst finished it off, poor thing. I think you need to go down three levels to access the communication equipment."

"Yeah," he responds. "I'm gonna go let Gelen know he can pick his people up."

He maintains a military posture as he leaves, but he stomps off without much of his usual energy.

"Yosip," I call after him.

He stops at the hole where the door once stood. "Take me with you, you won't survive another dose of radiation."

"Right," he says quietly. He returns and frees me from the gooey hold of the ship. The Supply-Master even lovingly wipes away the slime from my beautiful form, grimacing at the desecration to his dear friend.