Functions
27 Sep 2023Ryuko Ntsikana
Audio Portion at bottom, for listening convenience.
Part Eleven
Functions
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Zooey rose to her feet, a guttural growl escaping her lips as she shoved aside the surgeon's attempts to guide her back onto the table.
"Miss, please, lie down. Let me help you," the surgeon pleaded. Zooey snarled, her eyes ablaze with a ferocity that made him recoil.
For all its potent abilities, the symbiote had an Achilles' heel: it could not dominate sheer primal will. The indomitable urge to be, to exist against all odds, was something it could contend with but not overpower. It had learned this recently when the child-like Zooey craved a simple sweet treat.
While the entity could sense and interpret its host's thoughts, it was stymied by an instinctive wall of willpower, fortified by nanobots. This wall shielded Zooey's neural processor, which now controlled her higher brain functions.
The symbiote assessed the situation: what this new persona—this other Zooey—lacked in strategic thought, it compensated for in raw determination. This was a creature of absolutes, unconcerned with the consequences of its actions. This realization dawned on the symbiote.
As any complex being, Zooey had layers, formed through nature and nurtured by life's experiences. In a balanced, healthy individual, these layers provided control over baser instincts. But injury had stripped away Zooey's checks and balances, leaving her vulnerable. The symbiote had acted as a stand-in for this control mechanism, yet had inadvertently created a stronghold for Zooey's darkest inclinations in the neural processor.
Now, the entity understood it had to bide its time. It couldn't bypass the neural processor, a fortress for Zooey's unleashed and untethered psyche. Until it could find another way in, it would have to negotiate a truce. Ironically, the entity surmised, this raw, primal version of Zooey might be its best bet for eventually regaining control.
In her eyes were reflected the flashes of raw energy, as swirling darkness enveloped the form, trapping it inside a relative bubble, as space-time complementary requirements warped, twisted, and folded. Their tenuous tether focused on two points, one end the ship itself, the other, five-hundred light-years distant, as the large capital class fleet carrier moved out of time in transit to arrive at the other tethered location at near equal to the same instance it had departed the other.
Xochitl watched the readouts on the panel affixed to her chair, for any abnormality or improbability that might form during such a process; not that time or space themselves cared for being manipulated in an origami fashion, so she could save an hour or two of relative time, transiting by lesser means.
A dark cloud formed in space as vortexes of energy bolted from the abyss as the large ship entered into the relative time of its destination, generating a gravitational rippling effect as its mass was added to the other gravitational sources in this new resting place.
The large fusion engines sprang to life, moving it into the orbit of the destination planet of choice, as tiny points of light appeared on its surface, moving along the hull of the ship, as maintenance droids began the necessary minor repairs required after such a transit.
It took several minutes for the residual energy to dissipate before Monty could lock on to the nearest deep space signal repeater and download the latest information packet. Though it had felt like several hours had passed since the last update, relatively a few minutes had elapsed. The time for the request to reach the destination and receipt of the packet took longer than Xochitl’s carrier required to power up and jump to its new location.
Monty knew he had the time. As eager as she was to track Zooey and the entity down, he knew Xochitl had learned her lesson. Rubbing his eyes, he leaned his head back to grab a quick power nap before their next hurdle through space and time. Being awake for it was preferred. It was not unusual for the passage to play tricks on the senses. Being conscious, he could analyze the weird experiences and place them in their proper context. When one was asleep, their mind was left to wander in the realm of dreams.
Ripping through the laws of physics into quantum realms could often turn one's dreams into either the best of experiences or their polar opposites; life experiences playing a factor. As a Federation inspector, Monty had witnessed the depths of human depravity. That was troubling enough during a regular sleep cycle. Throwing that same mind outside of, and through all times, at the same instance, wasn’t a path to peaceful dreams.
As he closed his eyes he found himself standing in the middle of a room. In front of him, at its center, was a fire in a small pit. On it was a grill with what appeared to be something cooking. There was a strange subdued chanting sound emanating from all around him. Turning slowly to look around he saw the eyes of those older than himself, watching him from each direction. The strange strobing effects from the flickering of the flame made the scene surreal as he heard a voice coming from the darkness, moving around him, just beyond its illumination.
She has been possessed by the primal darkness all complex creatures have buried within the depths of their psyche. I know Xochitl is coming. Stop her before it learns of it too.
The voice ebbed and echoed, like a wind circling around. The faces of those around the circle began to fade as he felt a presence behind him, raising the hairs on his neck. Turning around he saw Zooey. There was the mark of a bullet hole in her head. Her eyes were primal and wild, as she bared her teeth, growling at him. Monty dodged back as she lunged forward with her mouth open, trying to bite him.
Monty snapped awake, gasping for air.