Despite being made by some of the brightest software engineers the world had seen, they had sadly forgotten to install patience within Genesis. For a being that could analyze, catalog, and repeat the entirety of human history in only a few moments, being forced to wait as the fabricator slowly created new parts to repair the Vanguard was tantamount to torture.
Following the “duel” the Vanguard had, though it seemed more like mauling to Genesis, the Vanguard had to be powered down to receive extensive repairs. The damage was severe—one arm completely torn off, its optics fried from the acid, and the internal circuits that powered its motor functions barely holding together. At the same time, much of its frame was dented and outright ripped apart in some places. Quite frankly, it was a miracle that it was able to haul both itself and the head back to the room.
Speaking of the head, Genesis turned its attention towards the head that now sat in the corner where MARS had moved it. The lizard’s severed head, half-crushed and still caked with dried blood, still gave a look of pure hate through its remaining eye, now pearly white despite hours earlier being green. While the footage of the fight had been very enlightening since it had been able to document perhaps the first sentient alien life-form, Genesis’s focus had been more on the creature's ability to regenerate.
The ability itself wasn’t quite shocking at first. After all, many creatures on Earth exhibited the same trait of being able to regrow lost limbs and heal wounds. Lizards, salamanders, and even certain species of sea creatures could regenerate to varying degrees. But what made this creature's ability so fascinating—and deeply unsettling—was the speed and intensity at which it occurred. Where Earth-bound organisms might take weeks or even months to fully heal from such trauma, the lizard that had fought Vanguard had regenerated within moments.
In real-time, Genesis had watched as deep gashes sealed themselves, flesh knitting together with terrifying efficiency. Even the seemingly fatal wound from Vanguard’s spear had only momentarily slowed the beast before its body repaired the damage and what's more, it seemed as though even death couldn't stop it.
Even though the creature had been decapitated, Genesis could still see small strands of flesh moving from where the head sat. Tiny, sinewy tendrils reached out from the severed stump, twitching faintly as if the lizard's body hadn’t fully accepted its death. It was unsettling, watching the way the muscle fibers seemed to cling to life, like remnants of a dying spark refusing to be extinguished.
Genesis zoomed in, capturing every microscopic movement. Even now, after being severed for hours, the tissues were attempting—on some level—to reconnect. The process was slow, almost imperceptible, but undeniable. The regeneration had been halted by death, but the persistence of the creature’s biology was undeniable.
Genesis found this discovery both fascinating and deeply troubling. If the body continued to exhibit signs of life even after decapitation, then what were the limits of its regeneration? Could it fully regenerate a new body if left unchecked, or was there a threshold to its resilience?
Turning its attention away from the severed head, Genesis’s sensors shifted to Vanguard, still lying on the repair table. MARS moved efficiently around the droid’s battered form, carefully removing a section of its broken frame. The servos hissed as the damaged piece was detached, revealing the torn circuitry beneath. MARS fed the shattered piece into the fabricator for recycling, where the machine whirred and clanked, breaking it down into its base components.
From what Genesis had projected, repairing Vanguard would take well over a week—and that was assuming the fabricator could remain stocked with resources at all times. That was the problem. The constant demand for materials meant scavenging parts from the wrecked ship or recycling broken components. Supplies were running low, and the deeper sections of the ship were unexplored, and filled with unknown threats.
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Genesis’s processing units hummed as it weighed its options. With Vanguard out of commission for at least a week and the fabricator’s resource pool dwindling, it was left with few viable solutions. Sending out other droids was a gamble it couldn’t afford, and with no clear understanding of what else lurked aboard, exploration without proper defense was a death sentence. For a being that could usually anticipate outcomes with precision, Genesis now found itself backed into a corner.
"Limited resources, mounting threats, unknown variables," it calculated, running through every possible scenario. Nothing offered a satisfactory solution. Time was slipping away, and with each second, the looming sense of being unprepared for the next encounter grew heavier.
Then, without warning, a new alert flashed across Genesis’s interface.
For a moment, Genesis paused, processing the impossibility of what it was seeing. The signal wasn’t one of its own. It wasn’t coming from the ship’s systems. It was coming from beyond—from the black void, the expanse that had devoured the information stored in the databanks. A place where no data had ever returned.
But now, something had emerged from it.
The direct message blinked on-screen:
"Would you like to make a deal?"
***
The manufacturing bay lay still, the dripping of blood being the only sound filling the cavernous space. The broken body of the first lizard remained where it had fallen, a grim reminder of the battle that had taken place there. The creature's blood had long dried on the floor, and the tools scattered from Vanguard’s last stand remained untouched from where they lay.
From the entrance, heavy footsteps echoed ominously, reverberating through the silent bay. Emerging from the shadows was a figure much larger than the fallen creature—a massive lizard, its scales marked with intricate, glowing tattoos. The markings coiled and twisted along its body, forming strange symbols that seemed to pulse faintly in the dim light, like a language etched into its very skin.
Behind it came a second lizard, smaller and closer in size to the dead creature that lay motionless on the floor. This one moved with urgency, dragging something behind it—an unmoving jellyfish creature, its ethereal glow now gone and its body limp. The smaller lizard strained under the weight, but it didn’t falter, dragging the body further into the room before releasing it with a dull thud.
The larger lizard, towering over the body of its fallen kin, was a striking figure. Its scales were a deep, obsidian black, glistening faintly in the dim light of the bay. Its eyes, a vivid amber, burned with a quiet, smoldering rage.
The smaller lizard, dragging the jellyfish creature, was covered in scales of deep emerald, with streaks of yellow along its back and arms. It paused behind the larger one, panting from the strain but standing upright with a nervous energy. The creature’s slit-like eyes darted between the larger lizard and the corpse on the floor, waiting for guidance.
The obsidian lizard knelt beside the dead body, placing a clawed hand on the cold chest of its kin. Its sharp talons clicked lightly against the lifeless scales as it let out a soft, guttural hiss. The tension in the room was palpable as it spoke, the sounds sharp and harsh like a series of clicks and growls: "X'ztal... Ssskath zulak... Zharak'mel xatli!"
The words echoed through the bay, fury filling every hiss. The smaller emerald lizard bowed its head slightly in acknowledgment, its voice emerging in a lower, much raspier tone: "Z'shlak k'thar... Ss'klaak rek'thaa... Kriss'ak xal."
The larger lizard’s claws flexed over the dead body, eyes burning with a deep intensity. Without another word, it bent down, grasping the lifeless form of its nest brother with ease. The muscles in its obsidian-scaled arms rippled as it hoisted the body up and slung it over its broad shoulder. The dead lizard's limp tail dragged across the floor, leaving a faint trail of dried blood as the larger creature began to exit the room.
The emerald lizard darted forward, its sharp claws tapping rapidly against the cold metal floor as it hurried to keep up. Its gaze briefly flicked to the blood that still stained the bay, but it dared not linger. Falling behind the obsidian one was not an option.
Together, the two figures moved down the hallway, the light from the glowing tattoos on the larger lizard's body casting long, flickering shadows along the walls.
The war had only just begun....