💾 Archived View for cosmic.voyage › RSS%20Revenant › 1639.txt captured on 2024-03-21 at 15:28:52.
⬅️ Previous capture (2021-11-30)
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As we approached Havion, one thing became glaringly obvious. There weren't any planets here. It was a nebula, glistening in the darkness, bits of dust and debris clouded the cameras outside the ship. The Protectorate seemed disappointed, as much as two and a half humanoid blobs could seem. They were not, however, as disappointed as Commander Cranium. He was sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. The rest of us knew to give him his space. Yes, I said two and a half blobs, one of them was clearly shrinking as more gold filigree wove it's way in and out of the ship's walls, with more shining black eyes. They were everywhere, and I was starting to get desperate for privacy. I'm not even sure they're eyes. This might all be in my head, it's probably my imagination. Nobody else seems worried, Swarm seems to think they're processing hubs, The Commander keeps asking himself questions about how neat everything is and how it's faster than ever, and Hex is just Hex. I'd think she was more melancholy than me, except she's always this way. Following her own rhythms, playing the universe like soft jazz. That's really the only way I could explain her powers. She performs her rituals, but improvises in little ways based on some extrasensory perception. It's like she's always listening deep inside. She must been listening intently because I haven't heard her talk in days, but she's always doing something. Consulting some oracle, shifting some energy with an occult hand, traveling on alternate planes of existence. Even when she's entirely motionless she's doing something. She was floating peacefully, in the lotus position, until her eyes bolted open and she ran to the control room. The displays folded into place to show another small black box in the depths of space. Except this one was much smaller than the Nalmykian scout. Black tentacles leaped from the hull, reaching towards the monolith. Bits of the original hull shone through where the Protectorate wore thin as the tentacle wrapped around it and began pulling it closer.