Resurrection Log: Ź̷̼͖ý̶̧̡̩̫͉͔͇̓̈́̋̎̽̌͐͛̈́̎̒́̐̍͠r̴̢͓̖̲͙̲̮͋̉̓̾͒̑͜͠ͅa̵̡̨̦͍͉̳͎͕̞͔̲̺̰̩̩̽͑̆̈̌́̏͝g̵̼͈̟̗͔͋́̈́̀͆̀̚ą̸̯̽̈́̑͒͑́ṙ̷͙̝̥͔̳̜̗͖̦͉͓͕͗̈́̇̇͂̐̍̒̍̔d̸͇̞̥͓̠̈́͒͋̌̐͝ ̶̨̧̛͔̲̻̖͚̠̣͔̻̰̫̒̇͐͜͠T̴̠͓͔̦̩̻̼̖̽͆̍͆̓̊̽̔̚͠ơ̷̶̵̸̸̸̡̛̛̬̖̰̦̦̮͚̗̞̻̻̞̻̙̘̘͈͈̭̲͙̪͍̭̭͉͚̤̅̾̽͋̀̑̋̆̍̉̇̉̈́̿͋͒̇̊̓̂̿̿̑̈́͆͑͌̂̌̑̆̉͘̚͜͜͝͝͝͝͠ţ̷̢̢̛͙̩͎̥͈̝̖̈̄͛̄͊̆̓̈́̊ͅͅȩ̸̠͍̱̖̺̣̖̄̉̔͜ņ̷̡͓̘̥̠̖̝̺͈̥͔̲͊k̴̛̯̫̪͑̽̔́̅͂̿̂͋̉̂̕͘͠y̵̟̟̰̪̻̼̖̌̽̇̓́̍̃͒̾̕̚͝͠r̵̢̨̠͉̼̲̲͛͒̂̽̄͐͌̏͘͘͝a̴̛̰̙̫͂͐̓̐ḿ̷̡̛̤͙͕̼̱̻͙̔͌̓̈̏͑̔̈́̓͘̚ą̸̧̧̯̺̫͈̞͎̻̤̫̂͐̐͘ņ̷̨̱̖̟͖͚̣̂͌͗̌̾̔́̕ ̶̨̨̲̘̭͚̣̝̞̲͔̦̽̾̏̄̒́̚͝K̷̖̻̘̣͐̽̀̅͛͜͜͜ṟ̴̛͇̺͈̲͉̤̰̰̥͉͓̜͑̈́͌̔̍̓́̕ą̷̼̄̾͊̓̽̾͊̈̒̍̍́̉̚͝l̸̨̞͇͈̖͔̘̜̱̦͈̊

Year 76,589 of the —Mother of Ruin—

M:6 D:20

Day 976 of Cycle 3

[transcribed memory/thoughtstream generated by Ṁ̵̢̘̭̬̙̘̦̳͓̺͈̪̒̂ǫ̵̨̛̠̫̻̐̋̓͗͗͗̏̎͂̿͌̕t̴̜̪͇͕͚́̓͐h̴̯͍̼̦̯̝̜̝̤͂͋͆͌͗͝ę̸͉͖͕̜̤̘͙͎͚̈́̏͒̒̄̏̃̋͘̕͘͜ȓ̸̢̨͍͉̱̮̞͔̋̇ ̴̡̛̱̳̘̠͎̫̩̪̦̠̦̣̀͒͛͊̚͠G̷̰̹̝͆̈͜į̸̧̟͙̰͖̳̯̈́̒͜͜g̶͉̗̹̻̟̰̞̭̠͉͙̈́͊̌̈̈̓̐̒̕ạ̵̧̧̘͖͔̟̝̳̅̇̂̂̅̓̇͛̓͋̊̏̇̕t̵̮̉͒̋̄̑̇̌̀̅͑̋͋r̶̻̟͗̋̀̆̿̃̔̄͒̎̊̈́̚o̵̪̦͇̫̾̋̊̾̋͗͗̊͊̄͜͠͝ḡ̵̛̰͎̇̐͒͋̊̀͝ẗ̶̡̮̠͈̗̗̃͛̈̊̾ḩ̴͍̖͖̥͈̻̪̖̤̰̥̣̋͌̚ř̵̝̤̩͈͎̤͎̯̤͔̝̬̖̓̏͐̀̿̊̂̈͋̕͝͝ĭ̴̡̡͙̺̪͕̻̺̥̫̭̜̺̳̃̂͊̓́̅̈́̎̀̽̀̚ͅṃ̵̨͇̺̪̤̄͜ȧ̵͓̟͖̞̩̤͙̩̖̠̝̣̔ź̶̡͇͍̝̳͚̱͖̳͖̬͓̋̂͜ ̸̢̺͚̍̎̈́̂͛̂̐͐̊̕̚͜͝͝Ȉ̵̢̹̜̞͆̃͗̅̈́̋͒̅͝Í̶̡͓͓̰̥̤̗̱̀͛́͆̒͋̂͠͝I̴̟̞̪̯͍̟̿̂̐̌͑̎̅̋͐͆̍́] [cont’d]

For almost an entire minute I forgot what, who, and where I was. Someone was making a sound which I did not have a word for. A scream, a roar, both, neither. An anger and an agony so deep it drove into me, and—as my perceptions blurred—nearly became my own. It was a sound I had not known humans could make. A depth of despair which I could not believe any living thing could feel and yet still live on.

And then reality clarified again around me as Grayman, the source of the confusion, the horror and the unbearable agony—his power flaring out of control—turned and charged down the corridor away from us. Straightening as her senses cleared, Allico tore off after him, her baby still clutched in her arms.

V—fighting his way past Rin and jerking his arm from Lore’s trembling grip—ran after them.

They would search the vessel, no doubt, from top-to-bottom and stem-to-stern in the vain hope that the others had left their rooms for whatever reason, gone off to some other part of the ship before the explosion occurred. A lucky chance, a miraculous survival. I could not bring myself to stop them, to snatch that hope away…despite its futility.

Beside me, Rin had frozen in the open entrance to her quarters. Her eyes reflected the green glow of the vac-shields. She was not breathing. Punjibar circled her legs over and over again, emitting a low warbling sound. Tursa stood at her back, one hand squeezing her shoulder. Shosho hopped and skidded over to me and I scooped her up, nestling her tiny body into the crook of my arm.

“We need to go,” she said, looking to Rin. “Quickly!”

But the captain’s hands were balled into fists, tears streaming from eyes wild with fury.

Lore stared at her, arms wrapped about herself, shaking from head-to-toe.

“M—mom?”

Rin blinked. The fury and shock and desperation went out of her eyes, but her expression hardened. She looked to me.

“Were the others in their rooms when it happened?”

I met her gaze, and felt as my own face twisted up in regret. I longed to lie to her, to give her a few more moments, at least, of hope for them.

“Yes,” I said.

She took a deep, quaking breath.

“Tursa. Catch up to the others. My orders are to meet in the shuttle bay. Tell them. And if they try to disobey…”

“Understood,” said Tursa, brushing her face briefly against Rin’s as they whispered their love to each other. Then she pelted off down the corridor, a silvery blur.

Rin ducked back into her quarters, emerging a moment later with two backpacks—her own and Lore’s, the only possessions they’d not left behind on the Griffin.

“Come on,” she said, not looking at any of us in particular as she handed Lore her pack. “To the shuttles. Now.”

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“Forgive me, Captain,” I said, hoping my use of her title would demonstrate my respect for her position, despite my objection to her orders. “But I believe I should go with Tursa, and remain as near Grayman as possible.”

Suddenly Rin smelled of fear.

“What? Why?”

“It is clear he his capable of obscuring not only himself but things around himself from outside perception, at least under certain circumstances,” I explained.

“I know,” said Rin. “We’ll be counting on it to get out of here alive. He can’t mask more than a few other people at a time, and not for long, but—oh. Right.”

I saw in her eyes then that she understood. If the parasites were behind the attack—and they almost certainly were—everyone would be safer if we allowed them to believe they’d succeeded, at least, in ridding themselves of me.

I could see the conflict in Rin’s eyes. Her lips fell open at once—as though she might argue, or change her plan. But we both knew she wouldn’t. She would want to get Lore to the shuttles as quickly as possible, and she was right to do so. She nodded—a sharp dip of her head.

“Ok,” she said at last. And then she pressed up against me, arms squeezing around my body tighter than I knew she could squeeze, and I could feel the warm wetness of her tears as her face pressed against my chest. I squeezed her back. From somewhere between us, Shosho emitted a muffled chirp. Rin leant away a bit and rose to her tip-toes, and I bent forward. She kissed me, squeezed me one more time, and released me.

I made to hand Shosho over to her, but the gla’cui scrabbled out of my hands and up to my shoulder. “I’m going with you,” she said. “I can help.”

“Very well,” I said, eyes lingering on Rin. Her lips opened to say something else as I turned to leave—but there was no time. I’d stalled enough already. I had to get to Grayman. To do what I should have done days ago.

By the time I caught up to him, he was tearing out of the galley, heading for the kitchens. Allico and V seemed to have split off from him to search elsewhere. Tursa had gone after them first.

Fuck.

“Grayman!” I called, reaching out to curl a tentacle over his shoulder. “Stop. Our orders are to meet at the shuttle.”

He ignored me, jerking out of my grip as he continued on.

“Grayman! They’re go—”

My words fell away as disorientation overcame me. As I forgot who I’d been talking to, and why. By the time I recalled Grayman’s existence, he was gone.

“Shosho,” I said.

She chirped twice and fluffed her feathers, her sweet aroma intensifying at once.

Even with the defenses I’d built up against pheromonal manipulation, a gentle sense of calm washed over me as I followed Grayman’s scent and other biosignatures to the kitchens. The instant I stepped up to the door, the disorientation set in again, and from the way she wobbled on my shoulder, I surmised that Shosho was not immune. But her chemical cocktail had already suffused the air. Within seconds, my confusion cleared.

Grayman stood before the kitchen’s open walk-in freezer, hand on the door handle. Tears streamed into his carefully-trimmed beard.

“They’re not…here,” he said, turning to look at us. Though his tone was even and his breathing had steadied, he looked…lost.

“I’m sorry,” I replied. “Come. It’s not safe here. They…would want you to be safe.” It was a strange thing to say, but a human one. I think. “And for us to be safe, I need you to shield me from outside perception with your Variation. From anyone who isn’t in our group, and without disorienting me. Can you do that…Derek?”

I had acquired his DNA, but it would take some time before I could analyze it and integrate the desired traits. Until then, I still needed him close.

The human nodded mutely, eyes distant, looking somewhere beyond what was there. Putting an arm and a tentacle around his shoulder, I guided him from the room, increasing our pace with each step as I scanned the vessel through the World Sphere for Tursa, V, Allico and the baby. I found the four of them near the prow…as far from the shuttle bay as it was possible to be. And only two of them were still conscious.

Fuck again.

“We’ve got to get to the others, together, and fast,” I informed him. “And you cannot move as swiftly as I require. Forgive me.”

Without waiting for his response, I snatched Grayman up off his feet with two of my tentacles, doing my best to comfortabley secure him. Shosho hunkered down, digging her claws into the fabric of my cloak as I turned and propelled myself at top speed through the cramped corridors and cavernous cargo holds of the freighter. To Tursa and the others. They were headed our way, now…albeit very, very slowly.

I flung myself through an auto-open door and onto the raised walkway of yet another cargo hold to find Tursa, struggling forward with Allico hefted in her arms, her squalling baby held in one curled whip, and V draped over her dragging tail. Though it was not prehensile, she held it curved upward at the end in an attempt to keep him in place. It was not particularly effective.

“They wouldn’t stop looking,” she explained. “I had to—”

“I understand,” I said, putting Grayman down and relieving Tursa of the adult and fledgling while she transferred the baby to the cradle of her arms. As we sprinted back the way we’d come, another explosion rocked the ship. New alarms blared. We toppled backward, slammed into the wall. And for the first time ever, I saw fear in Tursa’s eyes. She breathed Rin’s name as the vessel’s automated systems steadied us. I snatched Grayman off his feet again, and we tore forward. Ignored the artificial drone of emergency messaging, its warnings and its instructions. Surged through another hold. Burst through the door at the end of its catwalk.

I knew what to expect through the World Sphere. But I went anyway, the human side of me demanding visual confirmation.

We slid to a stop. Awash in the green illumination of another vacuum shield. Through the wreckage which lay immediately beyond, the other half of the freighter drifted, sealed as ours was by vac-shields and connected to our own by little more than the twisted sinew of corroded beams and cable.

Rin, Lore, and Punjibar were safe, waiting for us still on one of the shuttlepods docked at the far end of the detached side of the vessel. But there was no way for us to get to them.