cskendrick
I'm Gnu :)
- Joined
- May 7, 2006
- Messages
- 30
In the most secure hold of the Osiris was the rejuvenation creche. Here was where the Empress Mercada came, when the genetic stitching that held her youth together began to unravel.
Three technicians, all women, hurried through the preparations. Their names were Anima, Planagene and Minerva. Though women, they were not human. Rather, these fusions of flesh and force were the Furies, Mercada’s most trusted and most powerful servants. Alone among all her subjects, they possessed wholly free will; not even the Xinghu, the elite cadre of the Cyberne, held this honor.
Only they cared for her, when she was so vulnerable as she was now, when the life, rather lives, within her came unraveled. None saw this procedure but themselves, their liege, and those who were sacrificed, so that the Empress could live forever.
“Cellular fail rate is accelerating, Anima,” Minerva noted. She glanced down at the prone form of the Empress. She had blacked minutes earlier. The Furies had appeared almost immediately afterward to organize her relocation to the rejuvenation creche.
Plantagene added: “This donor won’t be fully revived for another seven minutes.”
Anima looked at the trembling Empress; she had come half-naked, draped only in a peach-pattern bedsheet. “We’ve always made the transfer with the donors fully conscious.” Normally, this was an orderly secretive process, but not this time. One of Empress’ Cyberne, currently favored by Mercada, had witnessed the onset of genetic collapse. He had seen the change, seen what the Empress was under the veneer of borrowed lives.
Minerva nodded. “I don’t think we have time…but we do have stasis cubes!” Indeed, there were thousands of the preservation chambers, all around them; the crew had used some of them during the long exodus from home. Others held donors.
Plantagene motioned toward a bay that had just been opened. “Bring the Empress here!”
“Why can’t we get the Cyberne to do this?” Minerva moaned. “Going solid makes me tired.”
“Because then we would have to kill them, and they are becoming scarce game.”
“Enough!” Anima barked, and the three Furies gathered around Mercada and moved her into the stasis chamber.
Once the clear cube hatch was closed, Plantagene activated the local distortion bubble, and checked the tau meter. “Magnitude minus six.” Inside, time would pass at one-millionth the pace it did outside the confines of the stasis cube.
“I really should have thought of this sooner!” Minerva said proudly.
“Oh, shut up,” Anima said, then added: “Good thinking, though.” Minerva beamed.
The three Furies set to work preparing the donor for final transfer. Centuries earlier, most of the cultivation work had been completed, changing the cells of the donor, in this case, a man of apparently eastern European extraction, into perfect matches for the Empress’ needs. It was a delicate balancing act; matching new donors to the increasingly-tangled genetic footprint of Mercada; she had absorbed tens of thousands of sequences from others, crowding out her once-vast expanses of facilitator (once called ‘junk’) DNA. It was the same as a computer memory; more data to maintain meant less room to maneuver, and that mean degraded processing power.
In Mercada’s case, that meant it became ever more difficult to find donors, and there was ever less time in which to find them.
Anima considered this; had it not been for her lengthy sojourn in stasis, the Empress would have perished long ago. Soon, they would have to find new donors, else the Empress would die horribly.
Anima decided to confirm inventory. “Plantagene, how many more donors do we have after this one?”
“Two more.”
‘That’s what I thought.” Anima frowned, watching the vital signs monitor for the current donor. His heart rate was coming around more slowly than expected, even though his body temperature was normal, even elevated, and brain function was very active. It would have to do; time was short.
"We must speed this along. Open the creche, Minerva."
Suddenly, the sound of an energy bolt filled the room. Minerva was shouting. "He's out!" Then Anima looked up, as the physical form of her sister Fury was shattered into component flecks.
"What?" Plantagene exclaimed, as a figure rushed out of the creche, at speeds impossible for any but an avatar, and passed right through her. "No..." she let out, before vanishing.
Then the figure froze directly before Anima. Human, yet not. Avatar, yet not. He was the reason there were only three Furies now.
"You..." Anima said.
"Me...." the Talon mocked. Then nothingness.
Three technicians, all women, hurried through the preparations. Their names were Anima, Planagene and Minerva. Though women, they were not human. Rather, these fusions of flesh and force were the Furies, Mercada’s most trusted and most powerful servants. Alone among all her subjects, they possessed wholly free will; not even the Xinghu, the elite cadre of the Cyberne, held this honor.
Only they cared for her, when she was so vulnerable as she was now, when the life, rather lives, within her came unraveled. None saw this procedure but themselves, their liege, and those who were sacrificed, so that the Empress could live forever.
“Cellular fail rate is accelerating, Anima,” Minerva noted. She glanced down at the prone form of the Empress. She had blacked minutes earlier. The Furies had appeared almost immediately afterward to organize her relocation to the rejuvenation creche.
Plantagene added: “This donor won’t be fully revived for another seven minutes.”
Anima looked at the trembling Empress; she had come half-naked, draped only in a peach-pattern bedsheet. “We’ve always made the transfer with the donors fully conscious.” Normally, this was an orderly secretive process, but not this time. One of Empress’ Cyberne, currently favored by Mercada, had witnessed the onset of genetic collapse. He had seen the change, seen what the Empress was under the veneer of borrowed lives.
Minerva nodded. “I don’t think we have time…but we do have stasis cubes!” Indeed, there were thousands of the preservation chambers, all around them; the crew had used some of them during the long exodus from home. Others held donors.
Plantagene motioned toward a bay that had just been opened. “Bring the Empress here!”
“Why can’t we get the Cyberne to do this?” Minerva moaned. “Going solid makes me tired.”
“Because then we would have to kill them, and they are becoming scarce game.”
“Enough!” Anima barked, and the three Furies gathered around Mercada and moved her into the stasis chamber.
Once the clear cube hatch was closed, Plantagene activated the local distortion bubble, and checked the tau meter. “Magnitude minus six.” Inside, time would pass at one-millionth the pace it did outside the confines of the stasis cube.
“I really should have thought of this sooner!” Minerva said proudly.
“Oh, shut up,” Anima said, then added: “Good thinking, though.” Minerva beamed.
The three Furies set to work preparing the donor for final transfer. Centuries earlier, most of the cultivation work had been completed, changing the cells of the donor, in this case, a man of apparently eastern European extraction, into perfect matches for the Empress’ needs. It was a delicate balancing act; matching new donors to the increasingly-tangled genetic footprint of Mercada; she had absorbed tens of thousands of sequences from others, crowding out her once-vast expanses of facilitator (once called ‘junk’) DNA. It was the same as a computer memory; more data to maintain meant less room to maneuver, and that mean degraded processing power.
In Mercada’s case, that meant it became ever more difficult to find donors, and there was ever less time in which to find them.
Anima considered this; had it not been for her lengthy sojourn in stasis, the Empress would have perished long ago. Soon, they would have to find new donors, else the Empress would die horribly.
Anima decided to confirm inventory. “Plantagene, how many more donors do we have after this one?”
“Two more.”
‘That’s what I thought.” Anima frowned, watching the vital signs monitor for the current donor. His heart rate was coming around more slowly than expected, even though his body temperature was normal, even elevated, and brain function was very active. It would have to do; time was short.
"We must speed this along. Open the creche, Minerva."
Suddenly, the sound of an energy bolt filled the room. Minerva was shouting. "He's out!" Then Anima looked up, as the physical form of her sister Fury was shattered into component flecks.
"What?" Plantagene exclaimed, as a figure rushed out of the creche, at speeds impossible for any but an avatar, and passed right through her. "No..." she let out, before vanishing.
Then the figure froze directly before Anima. Human, yet not. Avatar, yet not. He was the reason there were only three Furies now.
"You..." Anima said.
"Me...." the Talon mocked. Then nothingness.
