For two days, Heimirich endured the same routine. He didn't know why, nor did he learn what they were accomplishing. Not yet, at least. The third day started much the same as before: Food, thinking time an a walk to Fafnir. This time though, something wasn't quite right. There was an air of uncertainty in the circle and Heimirich couldn't tell what from. He shook his head and stood expectantly at his spot, before their chants begun anew. The familiar ripple in the air, the overlapping voices striking similar tone as before. He felt his voice slipping out of tune to his crew, and began to correct it. In that moment, colour exploded in front of his eyes and he dropped to one knee, his voice trailing off into silence as the colours shaped themselves into the darkened memory of before, except with a twist.
This wasn't his memory, it was the memory of another. He could see himself there, in the contraption, struggling against the unforgiving restraints. It was, of course, no use. Even with it not being his memory he could still feel what his body felt, remember what he thought. Panic set in, and in the vision, he could feel himself flailing pointlessly. A piercing scream shattered the monotony of the rattling against metal restraints, a scream that was silenced by something he could not see from his forced perspective. His own scream. Fear. The figure in front shifted slightly and a flash of blue was visible, but not for more than a moment. A completely unnatural sensation of something forcing his mouth open, refusing the ability to bite down. Heimirich could only guess what the cause was. A vile taste on the tongue brought the urge to gag, dispose the contents of his stomach where he was, push whatever it was back up and out. He couldn't. It resisted each heave, slipping deeper inside before the weight of it sat firmly inside. A moment of silence, only broken by the occasional cough and the flinging of spit from his mouth, a feeble attempt to clear the taste away of whatever secretion had plastered his mouth and throat. Panting followed, now able to shut his jaw with it settling down.
Another scream, this time accompanied with a burning sensation, pain dissolving any other thought of escape from the restraints. Intense, piercing, as though something was tearing up his insides. It was unlike anything he had felt before, and all he could do about it was rattle against the restraints, fight pointlessly against the reinforced alloy as cold as death itself. His resolve in staying conscious was only propped up by the will to try and relieve the pain; nothing else existed. He wanted to curl up, tears flowing like rivers down his face. A thought that wasn't his wandered through the memory: They were impressed. Resilience to the pain was not often found in those of Humanity.
The shared memory began to dissipate, the final image fading back down inside to where Heimirich felt that pain. Almost a phantom recollection rekindled an ache towards the base of his spine, though even now he couldn't quite work it out. Whatever it was, clearly had some significant meaning to his current state. He was beginning to wonder if he was alone anymore in his own body. The vision seemed to have come from within, yet there was no real way to deduce if this was the case.
He stood back up, feeling every pair of eyes around the opening on him. Thankfully the gloom did its part in covering most of them from his own view, so that when he checked, it was only those around that he could notice. He steadied himself, regaining composure before slipping into the chanting once more.
The seventh day brought much of the same as it dawned. Well, as close to 'dawn' as one could get in a nebula aboard an installation that didn't have day and night cycles. Breakfast rested on the table, the smell of some kind of bacon and eggs wafting up from the table. He could never determine if the food he ate was simply food or not but he couldn't complain on the flavours they provided him with. It was odd to have been treated so, too. As a prisoner, Heimirich had expected nothing more than a tiny cell and bare minimum in regards to care. He rather felt that his accommodation here was better than even some apartments he'd spent time in back on New Berlin. For a moment, he wondered why his captors had been so kind to him. Even back then, there was no believing that such a violent and hostile takeover would result in the well-mannered care and attention that was being delivered.
Slipping back to the present, he sighed. Heimirich stood up, falling easily into the routine of the last week aboard Altair. This time was a little different though as there was no masked guide to lead him through the megastructure. He didn't need them, either. The way was as familiar to him as the internals of Fafnir, or his family home back in Rheinland. The only sound that accompanied him was the clatter of his boots and the reflection of that sound back from the walls. His mind wandered, but his step remained true, guiding himself down the corridors without paying too much attention to his surroundings.
He re-joined the circle once more, breathing deeply in anticipation. There was an odd odour about the open dockyard space, a faint detectable scent of decay. He shook his head, as if to shake the disruption to his focus. It lingered, much to his displeasure. A glance around the room told him their time was nearing, each of them had made their way down and taken their respective positions, the rhythmic ripple of their paces dying down one by one.
It'stime...
Was the whisper of thought in their minds, before they began. Their voices had changed since the earlier gatherings, becoming more focused, more attuned to one another. Before, the words sounded awkward and forced. Now they had a melody about them, one that resonated both inside themselves and through the room around them. A melody that felt as though it was weaving even time itself, shaping it into something new, guiding a renewed purpose. He smiled inward at this, feeling rewarded for the week's effort as their song flowed. They moved in unison, closer together, akin to one mind and one body with each following one another's movements like a well-rehearsed routine.
As their echoes died down, he felt as though he was being judged. From both within and without. Someone was monitoring. Someone... Or something. He looked around, inspecting the space but saw nothing worthy of note. In the moment he gave up looking his thoughts faltered, giving way to another vision. A vision that began with darkness that was gradually illuminated. Instead of his own, this was another shared memory, one of a restrictive space.
It looked either side, feeling the walls close, listening to the rapid beat of something beyond the seemingly endless tube. There was no indication as to where this vision came from, or the visions purpose but it pressed onwards, forcing itself to continue. Faint, muffled echoes of pained coughs and chokes in the distance, the slight constriction of the channel they were wriggling down the only resistance to their movement. Several moments of the same surroundings melded together, the slow progress being finally met with reward when the tube opened up into a relatively wide chamber.
A momentary pause as it scanned the surroundings, each thought lasting a fleeting nanosecond before another overtook it. Heimirich could not even comprehend the rate the creature could process things, them snapping in and out of existence far faster than he could even glimpse them. It mattered little though, as he saw through the creature's perspective, it applying pressure towards one particular area of the wall that seemed to not give. He felt the pressure of the nudge, though, as the realisation hit this being was inside him. It was a blunt pressure from inside his stomach, almost like how one would expect it to feel if someone was pushing lightly outward from inside. An intent to proceed welled up from it, the singular thought echoing a thousand fold as it opened its face up and lunged forwards, latching into the opposing wall. Immediate pain blossomed, much like the blood that spurted outwards from the contact, the searing pain overriding every feasible thought. He could feel himself convulsing violently, even as he was bearing witness to the creature tearing through the lining of his stomach towards the base of his spine.
It pressed forwards through the wound, brushing against the sensitive nerve-endings within the torn lining. Mute whimpers of pain and discomfort were all Heimirich could manage, still feeling through the memory as though it was the present. Still it burrowed into him, Clearing out a large enough space that it could position itself as needed. The form did so, too, allowing its body to integrate into the wound. Heimirich could not see anything now, the form seeming to reshape itself for its purpose. Every moment remained agony though, even as it closed the wound up through allowing its own cells to interconnect with the ragged tissues, sealing the blood flow in order to ensure he didn't bleed out. It took time, but the torment subsided enough that he could finally think beyond it, and focus a little less on the hurt.
The vision shifted again, revealing the observation of his spine through tendrils. He could see them close in on his central nervous system, and he shuddered in fear. Even though he was experiencing the memory, he felt the form pause, almost as though it knew he would when he was shown what it saw, almost as if this being was reaching through time itself to express its amusement at his situation. Then, as the tendrils made contact, he felt the immediate surge of thoughts in his mind. He couldn't describe the feeling, nor did he want to surmise it himself. The experience was far more breath-taking than anything he could come up with. He could almost see the others nearby, throughout the station. He could feel exactly where he was in relation to them, hear their thoughts as though they were speaking right next to him. It was like being awake for the first time.
The vision faded away and Heimirch found himself laying there on the floor. He wasn't alone. He hadn't been alone once this week, and never would again. Even with the memory gone, he now felt the connection, as though the memory was the key to unlocking it. He was one with whatever had taken him and his crew. What's more, he could feel Fafnir, the gentle hum of the monstrous vessel above him being an echo in his mind. Not only that, but the voices of those that were lost. Each whisper he heard from the carrier brought forth a face of one of the crew, each one he knew to be dead. They were a part of her, bound eternally to the very hull through an amalgamation process he hardly understood. Before he could even process this, a thought intruded on him from the form within:
KaarstawaitsYou,Lightbearer.
He knew immediately where to go. He didn't question it nor fight against his new master, rather accepted it. They would use him as he would a tool, direct him as they needed and when, to serve. He knew what awaited him aboard Kaarst. He knew his new purpose. And he knew exactly what he had to do.
Heimirich ran his hand along the wall of the corridor from within the carrier, feeling the ship's warmth pulsing through his fingertips. She had a heartbeat now, much like he did. That was a product of the crew's collective effort over the passing week, their final chorus weaving the bodies of the fallen into her wounds - for that was what they were to her. Damage that left her weaker and less able to sustain battle. Now though, she was healed, complete. Her engine had been rebuilt with an amalgamation of technologies, becoming a design marvel unto itself while the plating that was originally mounted now matched the vessel's reflective nature. Each pace he took, he noted the lack of an echo from his boots, his movements having grown more silent. He didn't know why this was the case, but he welcomed it. The old clang used to occasionally be a distraction when focus was a priority. Now it wouldn't be an issue again.
As he approached the bridge, he paused and wondered about what had transpired before, when he was just a captain of the carrier and under the threat of the boarding. He wondered if he could have saved some of them by surrendering sooner. He dismissed the thought, realising that would have been a mistake. He opened the bridge door, stepping inside. His crew were already awaiting him, stood at their respective terminals. He nodded to each of them in turn, before he sat down.
"Let Us see how She glides through space now."
The carrier shifted to life, the steady pulse of before increasing in tempo to become a harmonious hum of energy and power. No longer was she the slow and power-hungry monster that she was under Weiss' maintenance backlog - She had been reborn and reshaped into something that felt more like an extension of both mind and body. Heimirich felt he was one with her, and that they were far more deeply connected than flesh to plating.
He didn't need to tell anyone what to do or where to go, he simply thought it, and they listened. Omega Fifty-Eight, Kaarst Drydock. No one asked for directions, they simply manned their stations while occasionally providing course alterations, or shield harmonic reinforcements. Power redistributed itself as and when needed, almost like the ship itself had a sixth sense for where power was needed and when.
Each system they passed through provided a welcome change of scenery to the dim black they had spent their time in. The particles that danced around the ship had a vibrancy about them, more prominent than their journey towards his new remote home. He considered the why, but decided it wasn't important to him, preferring to focus on Kaarst. He had a task to do, and he didn't want things getting in the way.
That, however, was easier said than done. Every so often, the echo of a voice he used to know rippled through the bridge, the faint scent of a familiar perfume wafted through the air or the phantom touch of a hand on his shoulder occurred. Heimirich sighed, knowing full well that no matter how much he wanted to turn and see them stood there beside him, or see them at their station, the people he missed were gone. All that remained of them was here, within every groove of their vessel. They were bound to the last place they served in, men and women mixed with metal, integrated as one.
Time soldiered on, and with each distraction he found themselves nearing their destination. The structure loomed through the dark matter, foreboding and unwelcoming to most of the human eyes that bore witness to the horrors that emerged. He wasn't phased by its shadows, knowing that they were expected, that he was expected. He instructed his crew to moor up through thought, growing accustomed to the method of communicating far quicker than he anticipated, before he rose from the seat and strode out to the station.
The form inside his mind gave him direction, sending him past Kate who smiled at his passing, expressing nothing more than a greeting to his presence. She knew also his purpose, and the smile widened. Her silence remained though, choosing not to speak. Two lefts, a right, another left, three rights, left again. Each turn was almost second nature, purpose through guidance driving him deeper into the prison cells of Kaarst. Every footfall here was accompanied by the rattle of the metal grating beneath his pacing, almost like the architects wanted those approaching to be heard. One more turn, a door opening and more paces until the thirteenth cell on the left. Here, he stopped, gazing at the door expectantly.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key, unlocking the door and opening it outward, the creaking of rusty metal deafening against the murky silence before. He scanned the room in silence, before his eyes fell upon the reason he was here.
Propped up between the wall and the floor, letting out a quiet whimper, was Tessa. Heimirch's sister.
