A foetal seed grows, encircled by the gelatinous, translucent, mucus-like spore. Pure light washes over the rippled surfaces sending undulating pulses lacing across the impossible breadth of the construct. The seed accumulates, drinks in the light revelling in its playful dance. Fibres form, constrict, the seed visibly flexes. For years the seed stretches, adjusting and growing - its form changing.
Fibres join, vessels writhe and fill the tissues over decades, synapses connect; the first sparks are born, signals fire within the once seed. The stem bleeds images into this vessel, this section of the whole: Memories trickle down, ebbing slowly through layers of neural tissues, which greedily absorb every drop, as hungry roots. The elders relay key instinctual information to the seed; a gossamer filament of ancient data is laid over and into the forming being.
Visions fill the beings mind - 'Nightmare' flashes of the enemy, the last moments of those pieces lost outside to violence. The once-seed is 'rewired' yet again.
As a stone worn by rain, the product begins its awareness, begins it's questioning. It is hungry now, the light of this fire is lacking, brighter fire must be found, it must feed the changes. The seed continues to gather, reaching out to the light resembling a limb on the great tree; the once-seed begins the formation of a being.
Time is measured only in the sweet aching that wracks this ever growing body, and the steady flow of light and information that settle and fill the being: - vague memories and promises of rich feeding grounds, broken by the occasional cries of kin suffering light years away, and the constant droning, mournful song of those gone beyond; their shattered minds pieces feeding the roots of the whole. Thoughts and images of the creators, the first race, are barely perceptible through the hazy layers of immeasurable time. Beautiful, alluring, and completely mystifying; this knowledge is perceived as the closest thing to divinity: allowing conjecture and abstract thought the being is filled with wonder.
The being reaches out, its mind questing towards the unknown - curiosity takes precedence and the limb begins to writhe: seeking answers and the calls of those out in the lack, amidst the flesh virus. It sees it's kin, of the same matter, pass by mere spans away, their thoughts leaving a wake of questions and tempting mystery: The being yearns to join their dance; feel the rush of foreign solar-winds, to dash and flit amongst the elemental clouds, reclaiming that which was lost.
The final days of gestation pass in agony as the stem regretfully severs its last physical tie to the once-seed. The being in turn, phrases a sorrowful farewell to it's progenitor whilst affirming it's pledge to it's kin. The final fibres snap and tear, the struggle of separation is mute under the wrenching tide, as the beings last shaping here, is made in pain.
The being awakes, the wound of separation feels fragile and raw, the being cherishes its memory of being joined to the one, as it regards it's other kin traveling the lack, the dark; with their own pledges and secrets to follow. Darkness lies beyond the activity, tentatively the being reaches out and begins to employ those gifted threads - stored energy courses through every system; elation washes over the being in a joyous wave - This! Is what the others had known in 'freedom', this ecstasy spoke of yet more glorious sensation to be found; impossibly, outside in the black, divorced from the one. The being loses moments in elation, and happens upon a portal; a well, heavy and deep: leading somewhere else. The being tastes the waves and after a moments consideration of the ancestors divine thought-flurry, dives headlong into the anomaly.
Light bends, incredibly warping every wave that rushes through this torrent, This was chaos; cosmically harnessed. The being knows fear and exhilaration simultaneously: wrapped in the experience, it arrives at the end of the maelstrom, surrounded by the unfamiliar and tantalising presence of the unknown. A lone voice/signal calls out making itself heard above the persistent, familiar whisperings. This Voice that calls is joined or twixt with another, it is a unique, newfound and intriguing song. The being answers in kind, and ignites its fire once more: propelling through the debris and gases left in the wake of the virus.
Suddenly low-wave frequencies are filled with noise; like a host of child-insects endless conversing, criss-crossed with thousands of tiny pieces of signal: further distorting the din. A perverse blend of elements infected with the disease-bodies careens past; irradiating gamma-waves and trailing a stink as it emits its low-wave abrasive cacophony. The being perceives this as a box filled with flesh, or a metal-shell filled with flesh bodies.
The Flesh-in-box comes closer, the being sees dangerous energies build beneath its abhorrent carapace, it spews its energy forth into the beings flank; pain lances through its body as conflicting energies writhe and arc across its foundling frame. The being knows anger and fear, again the synapses scream out their old knowledge. Of fighting: of survival. The being instinctually channels its thoughts to those unused appendages, fuelled by that desperate need to survive: the being unleashes more precious energy at the enemy, even as further fire strikes its side. The once-seed begins to dart amidst the debris; to seek refuge whilst desperately attempting to keep the enemy at bay.
The one-that-is-joined sounds out again, clearer this time; closer. Within moments the one-that-is-joined is near, it speaks of escape as it adeptly employs its weapons; tearing pieces from the enemy, causing beautiful concussive waves to ripple across the metal-shell. The Flesh-Disease inside the metal-shell radiates confusion and fear; its chatter screams out; swamping the low waves. After wounding the strange predator, the one-that-is-joined relays feelings of escape, of warmth and happiness to the once-seed, and is lost from light in the dust. The once-seed quickly follows and soon the two are safely away from the burning enemy. The one-that-is-joined conveys some of its information steadily, in small pieces; so that the youngling may understand and absorb these new teachings, which speak of caution, and the guises that the flesh-disease takes inside its many metal-shells. The youngling questions the joined one about its nature and how it is both one and two. The replies are forthcoming; two mixed voices ply the once-seed with other possibilities, other possible hosts for consciousness. Planets spin slowly around the glorious sun here, the two gather well as the lessons progress. Finally, after the painstaking crafting of new pathways, the once-seed understood: the flesh-bodies contained their own consciousness, unlinked and unlike the purity of mind it had known; the flesh-bodies consciousness varied wildly. Though its existence was short-lived, its spread was made up of both harmful and peaceful entities/pieces; and its alien thinking often saw it feed-upon, or destroy, pieces of itself. What was more startling was the revelation that the flesh-creatures minds could be affected and touched upon by the once-seed and its brethren; though their comprehension was narrow, some semblance of the ideas still permeated their feeble organs. Then came the uncomfortable knowledge that the one-that-is-joined was both like the youngling and its kin, and simultaneously, contained the mind of a flesh-body; though the once-seed was comforted by the fact that both minds agreed this state of existence was best. And so the one began its journey, tasting different colours of pure light, testing its boundaries and stretching its physical capabilities. The once-seed still grows, and is known amongst the enemies of the pure race as Nabu.
The once seed exults in the dizzying course of its journey; plunging through unknown gravity-anomalies one after another, it becomes lost in the exploration of the myriad flavours of this seemingly endless expanse. Distant frequencies brush the once-seeds awareness, it cautiously approaches; careful to avoid the narrow senses of what must doubtless be the flesh-disease in one or more of its metallic shapes. The frequencies have wave-carried basic modular patterns which seem to emanate from the shells more frequently, when they are in proximity to each other. The once seed tracks one from a distance, til it is away from the pack then closes the distance to examine this one. The foreign-solid is extracting materials from its environment, whilst discarding and ignoring that which it does not desire. A foreign concept flashes through the solid-ones mind, too contrived and debase to decipher right now; the information is stored as the once-seed sees more. The solid ones biological form varies slightly from those stored examples; the flesh-diseases desire to differentiate one part from another by biological characteristics was still something that puzzled the once-seed; but it was fitting for such a things nature. The shell surrounding the small solid-one is filled with conduits throwing energy all around itself, the once-seed watched as the shell bleeds that energy into the lack, tainting the surrounding area from its mechanical perversion. The configuration of vessels within the shell differs from that seen before; another pointless variation yielding negligible benefits. The once-seed conveys that the solid-one will not suffer today; but there is no reply. Apprehension spasms through the solid-ones mind, and it scurries to shelter in a much larger shell containing many minds; the once-seed muses whether this is the how the flesh virus shares information and experience, and employs its energies again accelerating toward the next discovery. Another two gravity anomalies braved, and the lack appears different again: filled with clouds of loose particles. Faint frequencies now familiar issue across space alerting the once-seed to the potential dangers here, a hive of the virus sits between it and the next gravity-well. After sending some low waves out to build an image of the area, the youngling darts for that next escape; a shell of the virus emerges from the hive issuing its waves at some volume. This solid-shell contains several bodies of the virus and has a greater mass, its energies course along its carapace as though straining to be released, yet the shell lacks the outlets and so the energy runs thick and erratically. The youngling continues and this new large-shell follows, the flesh bodies inside excitedly ooze around, emanating a mixture of surprise and fervour. Soon another arrives in a similar configuration but smaller, and with the necessary conduits to release energy harmfully. As the youngling redoubles its efforts to pass, yet another metal-shell looms into view. This ones mass far exceeding any of the other vessels; it brims with energy, which cycles in huge swells like an ocean trapped inside the shells frame. Not a moment too soon, the once-seed dives through the anomaly arriving moments later in a noisy but bright system. The once seed takes note; its has used much energy in these wanderings and requires nourishment. It makes straight for the bright-white at the centre of this place, the memory of the last feeding a tempting glimmer at the edge of its thoughts. As it surges toward the light with all its will, the two shells and the fat-energy-shell emerge from the anomaly and match course; giving chase. The once-seed acknowledges the danger and sees yet more shells appear, another one of these many as big as the fat one, perhaps bigger. The once-seed changes course to drag its pursuers toward these unfamiliar new hosts of the virus. Relief floods through the youngling as the minds of the pursuers ring wild with alarm; they are enemies of the new arrivals: a part of the virus that runs contrary to other parts. The pursuit dissembles as the new arrivals move in, all now near the sweet-light; they fire energy at each other and drift unheeding toward the lights corona. The once-seed looks on with interest and amusement as it bathes in the ecstasy of the light.
Anger emanates from many of the minds of the virus, one or two seem unaffected; one comes close to the feeding place, issuing non-harmful waves toward the youngling, it is curious. The other calm mind comes from the vast metal shell which contains hundreds of virus-bodies: Commands Filter down between the machinations and the minds, and a determined will dominates the vessel, with one end; to destroy the enemy. More energy is wasted as the first two flesh-virus vessels are joined by their ilk, burning and tearing at the fat-one and its smaller protectors. Fear and resignation ebb from the largest as it enters the corona, fully aflame. The full usefulness of the distraction aside, the once-seed decides to move on, replete with nourishment. Two more bodies appear near the planet, one large, one about the same size as the youngling; their minds full of mistrust and readiness, yet one part dedicated to loss: constantly grieving, searching. One of the minds of these lost-ones is filled with memories of conflicts, again and again, this one-of-the-virus was old to battle: and would be dangerous. The youngling avoids the lost-ones and follows the call home, as instructions from the advisor trickle down: there would be adaptation to new information, there would be change before the next foray.