Birth of a Wish

[Chronicron]

The bulk and flooring surrounding the main reactor area no longer resembled anything made by man. Like a fungal infection, the grey matter has spread through the hallways, coalescing itself and the ship's metal into warped, irregular shapes and patterns. Nemezida saw this before, albeit only through a lens of visual scans provided to her by her loyal servants. A twisted blend of alien matter and man-made metal. A visage she never before got to witness in person.

Perhaps, this is how a flea would feel traversing a stray dog's body. An insignificant insect, carefully treading its path upon an animal's hide. The closer Nemezida got to the reactor, the rounder the passage in front of her would become, resembling that of a cylindrical ellipsoid rather than the angular corridors of Coalition's capital interiors. Any gaps in the structure were smoothed out and mended into one continuous shape. A faint iridescent glow meant she was nearing her objective. To her surprise, she met no resistance, which was at the same time an even bigger cause for concern.

Yet what she saw inside was akin to a living horror. The reactor itself was pierced by a deformed alien growth, sprouting outwards into the ship's interior. A bizarre membrane-like barrier covered the hull breach just above the reactor itself. The Pripyat’s crew did not flee the ship nor were they sucked into the vacuum of space. Their bodies plastered against the undead matter, crucified and lifeless, with expressions of frozen shock etched onto their faces. Some of them were kneeling in front of the reactor, with thick wires stuck into the backs of their heads. As Nemezida walked closer, she recognized Pripyat’s executive officer, along with the commanding officer herself. They were motionless, not reacting to the Overseer's presence.

In the next instant, she felt a sharp pain piercing the back of her skull. Her breath let out a final shocked gasp as her body slumped in front of the reactor, falling down on her knees like the rest of her subordinates, her limbs refusing to obey. Her vision blurred, her hearing deafened. Something very thin and very sharp was working its way between her brain's hemispheres.

Suddenly, she felt a groaning, burning pain, as if parts of her were doused in molten rock and set to fire. She felt like bits of her skin, flesh and bones were torn away with a flaming blade. She felt like she was repeatedly beaten with barbed clubs and pierced with a stake through her heart. But more so than anything, she felt hunger. Like a starving beast that wasn't fed for months. Yet her psyche remained resilient. No matter the pressure, she did not give in to panic. All she knew is that she had to find a source that would nourish and sustain her. Her body felt unwieldy, crude, incomplete, not at all the acrobatic miniature chiseled to perfection that she was used to. She couldn't walk, for there was no solid surface to stand on. She couldn't crawl, for there was nothing for her to grab on. Yet what she could do was swim. With every push, a wave of searing pain echoed through her system, accompanied by everlasting extreme desire for sustenance. Yet at the same time, the surrounding space felt light, like an endless body of substance lighter than water. And like every ocean, it had its currents.