Chapter 3: Entry 3 [In which I meet the crew and regret my decisions]

Resurrection Log: Ź̷̼͖ý̶̧̡̩̫͉͔͇̓̈́̋̎̽̌͐͛̈́̎̒́̐̍͠r̴̢͓̖̲͙̲̮͋̉̓̾͒̑͜͠ͅa̵̡̨̦͍͉̳͎͕̞͔̲̺̰̩̩̽͑̆̈̌́̏͝g̵̼͈̟̗͔͋́̈́̀͆̀̚ą̸̯̽̈́̑͒͑́ṙ̷͙̝̥͔̳̜̗͖̦͉͓͕͗̈́̇̇͂̐̍̒̍̔d̸͇̞̥͓̠̈́͒͋̌̐͝ ̶̨̧̛͔̲̻̖͚̠̣͔̻̰̫̒̇͐͜͠T̴̠͓͔̦̩̻̼̖̽͆̍͆̓̊̽̔̚͠ơ̷̶̵̸̸̸̡̛̛̬̖̰̦̦̮͚̗̞̻̻̞̻̙̘̘͈͈̭̲͙̪͍̭̭͉͚̤̅̾̽͋̀̑̋̆̍̉̇̉̈́̿͋͒̇̊̓̂̿̿̑̈́͆͑͌̂̌̑̆̉͘̚͜͜͝͝͝͝͠ţ̷̢̢̛͙̩͎̥͈̝̖̈̄͛̄͊̆̓̈́̊ͅͅȩ̸̠͍̱̖̺̣̖̄̉̔͜ņ̷̡͓̘̥̠̖̝̺͈̥͔̲͊k̴̛̯̫̪͑̽̔́̅͂̿̂͋̉̂̕͘͠y̵̟̟̰̪̻̼̖̌̽̇̓́̍̃͒̾̕̚͝͠r̵̢̨̠͉̼̲̲͛͒̂̽̄͐͌̏͘͘͝a̴̛̰̙̫͂͐̓̐ḿ̷̡̛̤͙͕̼̱̻͙̔͌̓̈̏͑̔̈́̓͘̚ą̸̧̧̯̺̫͈̞͎̻̤̫̂͐̐͘ņ̷̨̱̖̟͖͚̣̂͌͗̌̾̔́̕ ̶̨̨̲̘̭͚̣̝̞̲͔̦̽̾̏̄̒́̚͝K̷̖̻̘̣͐̽̀̅͛͜͜͜ṟ̴̛͇̺͈̲͉̤̰̰̥͉͓̜͑̈́͌̔̍̓́̕ą̷̼̄̾͊̓̽̾͊̈̒̍̍́̉̚͝l̸̨̞͇͈̖͔̘̜̱̦͈̊

Year 76,589 of the —Mother of Ruin—

M:6 D:12

Day 968 of  Cycle 3

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

​

“It’s a Lyrian, obviously. He’s our new live-aboard-indefinitely passenger I texted you about.” 

The other human just kept his eyes pointed at her, raising his fur ridges—eyebrows—ever higher. I wondered how far up they could go. 

“Obviously,” scoffed the man. Ah, such a nice sound, that scoff. I think I mentioned my liking of the scoffs. I attempted my smile. Several of the crew members took a sudden step back. 

“Let me guess," said the man-human . "We have you to thank for its—“

I cleared my throat, something which I had been waiting for a chance to do and which felt quite strange. It was an action that was meant to make humans cease their noise-making. To my great surprise, it worked. They fell nearly silent and pointed their eyes at me. 

“It’s my understanding that it is used in reference to things which humans consider non-sapient at best. But I can assure you, my sapience far exceeds your own. And also, I have decided that I am a he. A…man.”

“Oh nice,” said a being at the back of the group. “Congratulations!”

Another one sniffed. 

A sort of anxiety came over me as the crew edged in just a little bit closer, their sensory organs perceiving me more thoroughly. I did my best to keep my tentacles—all clustered and hidden at the back of my body—from undulating. Rin had tried to convince me to do away with them entirely, but of course, that was unthinkable. 

“I don’t get it,” said one of the crew members, a small being covered in fine, silky feathers.

Another crew-person, a smaller human with a short mane of blue hair, squinted her eyes. 

“Is that…a Star Trek uniform?”

“Yes! Thank you!” cried Rin. “But do you know whose uniform it is, specifically?”

“I hate you,” said the big male, whose skin had been altered to grow bioluminescent cells in intricate, iridescent patterns. “And I’m flushing every one of those gods-damned furry smut rags down the vac.” 

“Not furry, paranormal. Mythical!” Rin waved her hands around in my direction. A different kind of wave than the one I had done before. “He’s Spock, but as a werewolf. Just like in Pon Farr Moo—“

“Pon Farr Moon?!” The smallest human emitted a noise I can only describe, after consulting various sources, as a squeal. 

Rin bobbed her head up and down while doing more grinning. 

Several of the other beings groaned. 

“No more fan-fiction access for you,” growled big-human. “You’re cut off from the database.” 

“I’m the captain,” she reminded the larger human. 

“I’m the pilot,” he replied. “I am one with this ship. I—”

“I am so sorry about this, Mr…Zyr, was it?” said the feathery one, her big, black eyes pointed at me. She smelled heavily of pheromones, and they were…sweeterthan that of the humans. It reminded me of the sugary intoxicants. 

“Do werewolves usually have tentacles?” queried another, a levitating being with many-colored scales and no limbs aside from their wavering, translucent fins. I recognized this entity as a screeEEE-ah, and was pleased by their presence here. They were nearly as rare as humans, hated mind-speak and worshiped sound…so it made sense the two species got along. They flowed sideways and peered around my shoulder. I twitched the tentacles away, but this only revealed them a bit more on the other side. 

“Not usually,” said Rin. Fools informed me her tone was cheerful. This didn’t seem to make sense. “But he’s very attached to them. Compromises were made. Anyway, you don’t even know the coolest part! This uniform? He can shed it and eat it…then generate a whole different outfit! He could make a leather jacket, or a suit of armor, or…I don’t know…PJs?” 

“I will not do that,” I said. I was exhausted and cranky, and my uniform was comfortable and simple, as far as garments go. I also did not, at the time, know what most of those things were. I was overwhelmed, and still…some version, at least, of drunk.  

“Er,” said the smaller, as-yet-unnamed human. “It might take him a while to work up to that, judging from this, ah…”

“Iteration?” suggested Rin, again, cheerily.  

“Er, yeah,” said smallest-human. “Like, I see the general outline of the werewolf. Or wolf-man. The snout is mostly there. And the uniform is kinda right. But, uuuh…I’m sorry, I hope this doesn’t offend you.” She paused, amber-circled eyeballs pointing at me. “But you kinda look like you’re made of…I dunno. Squids? Squid skin?” she came closer, until I could smell what she’d most recently eaten. Fried bird meat drenched in spicy sauces. “Even the fur on your head looks kinda…squidy.”

“Trust me, it’s a vast improvement,” said Rin. “Besides, are squids ever this magnificent shade of blue-gray and black with occasional highlights of silver?” queried Rin. “Are squids ever this well dressed? Do they have lovely, sharp, big teeth like these?” 

“You seriously made him take the form of your OC,” said big-human. “You should be court-martialed.”

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“We don’t even have a government anymore, let alone a military,” Rin reminded him, again with a tone that was…confusing, given the circumstances.  “Besides. I’ve told you. I’m not secretly the author of the beloved Star Trek werewolf omegaverse fan fiction web serial Pon Farr Moon.”  

“Doesn’t matter,” said big-man. “Court martial.” 

“Eeeer,” small-human faltered, backing away a bit. Some manner of hierarchical posturing was afoot (yes, another very real word), with the small human at a clear disadvantage. “The teeth are…almost unnecessarily big…and I don’t feel like they all need to be that sharp…do they?”

Rin initiated another hand-wave. “It’s a work-in-progress, right Zyr?” 

“Correct,” I affirmed. Of course it was. It was a body. 

“And he will be doing what aboard, exactly?” wondered big-human. 

“Nothing!” said Rin. “That’s the beauty of it. He just pays to take up some space, leaves us alone any time we ask him to, and he’s agreed to help us with any issues we might have with our biophage,” she glanced to me again, and pursed her lips. I had been about to say something, but the download informed me this would be an unwise course of action.

“Though he assures me we will never have any issues with said biophage,” she finished. “And since he’s Lyrian, we don’t have to worry about sabotage or theft or…anything else like that,” she added after a moment. 

“Eeeeeeh.” supplied small-human. 

“Right,” said big-human, clapping his hands together. The bones of these were encased in rather a lot of hardened meat. Fools identified his tone as doubtful, but he did a thing with Rin called exchanging a look. This seemed to settle the matter. “Whatever. Let’s make it through the niceties then and get to it. We're not paying to hang here another night.” 

“Tursa isn’t back yet,” said little-human. 

“Of course not,” sighed big-human.

“Another entity has just boarded the ship,” I informed them, only just perceiving it. A moment later, the approach of the entity in question could be heard. Tursa, I assumed. And then I scented her, and every cell of my body contracted with instant, primal fear. 

B̴͙͎̅͗͗k̸̛̩̮͖͌͛͒̉͋̂̀̽̚͝e̵̢̥͇͈̓̇̽ş̸̛͉̖̰͕̮̹̘͍̳̥͔̄̈͛̐̓͒s̴̟̙͕͙͚̭̻̻̖̫̭̈͐̈́̆̍̊͝i̵̛͚̗̤͈͔̇̾̓͑̿̒̈́̚̕͝x̵̢̱̭̼͈̲̼̣̝̪̜͕͈͌̿̿͂̒̃̏̍͐͌̑͘̕͝ͅ.

Before I could stop myself, I brought my tentacles defensively foreword, unleashing an intimidating sound through all of my sephegial slats. The predator made a sound too. It took me a moment to realize it was her own version of a laugh. 

She was a thing straight out of my deepest, most terrible OtherStates. All sleek, wicked curves and talons. A silvery pelt dappled in black. And of course—the whips—a pair of long, thin, suckerless tentacles which arched from her back and up over her shoulders, ending in little spades studded with poisonous barbs at their undersides. 

Since their years as the Terrors of the Depths, they had altered themselves greatly. This one, in particular, had adopted many human-like traits. Long, grayish fur at the back of her head, for instance. But it was wet-looking, like the rest of her (not that I was one to talk). She’d two arms and an upright posture as well, and eyes on the face, dark and glittering in the lumicell light. 

Like my species, hers were happy to make the most of the opportunities presented by almost anything that would pack-bond. Unlike my own, they are stupid and I hate them. 

Said stupidity, and—perhaps—a certain innate recklessness—means they are far more frequently willing to interface with a species as mad as Homo sapiens than we are. 

“Oh! Oh no, I forgot.” Rin was doing the thing where she pointed her eyes back and forth, this time between myself and the thing which had just joined us. “But they don’t prey on your kind anymore, right?” 

“We are well beyond the point in our advancement at which this species presented a threat." This was quite nearly a lie, and I was very nearly proud of myself. "But the Lyr have long memories." That was an understatement.

I recall the terror of my ancestors as the B̴͙͎̅͗͗k̸̛̩̮͖͌͛͒̉͋̂̀̽̚͝e̵̢̥͇͈̓̇̽ş̸̛͉̖̰͕̮̹̘͍̳̥͔̄̈͛̐̓͒s̴̟̙͕͙͚̭̻̻̖̫̭̈͐̈́̆̍̊͝i̵̛͚̗̤͈͔̇̾̓͑̿̒̈́̚̕͝x̵̢̱̭̼͈̲̼̣̝̪̜͕͈͌̿̿͂̒̃̏̍͐͌̑͘̕͝ͅ stalked us through the lightless seas of our primordial home as if it were my own. It is my own. But the Hunters…they remember only what happens to them some time after their individual body’s birth. A quality they share with humans.

They cannot understand. 

“I wasn’t aware that such a…one as she… would be here,” I said, on the verge of declaring my imminent departure. Yet I could not help but to think, to consider the situation. Information is rarely so valuable as where a potential threat is concerned. I shifted my perceptions, and realized it was indeed a boon to have the horrid thing aboard. “Forgive my reaction. It shall be good to have practice in…suppressing my instincts.” 

It was not an easy thing to say. We could have wiped those memories and impulses out long ago, but the Eldest Mothers had always forbidden it. In our choosing to keep them, they had become…in a way…sacred. You know this of course, but I record it for the sake of any hybrid progeny I may produce, presuming they still maintain, by that time, the right to access ancestral memories and their transcriptions. 

I would like them to understand. 

Of course, hybrids are rare. Despite the fact that we are capable of reproducing with just about anything, other species are generally rather reluctant to reproduce with us.

So, future progeny—if you’re perceiving this and you’re a hybrid, know that you are very special and rare. Well, I mean…you’re special and rare regardless. But not in the same way new-acquisition hybrids are. I value you an equal amount either way. Even if the Mothers do not.

[Mothers, know that I say this in all adoration and devotion.] 

[Note to self: Possibly redact the last several parts later. One sentiment is likely unclear. The other may be…unwise.]

I digress. 

All of the crew were apparently aboard, because the airlock was closed, and the pilot—whose name turned out to be Jack C. Barnaby (not Jacksybarnabeee, I won’t make that mistake again)—inserted himself into the cockpit. That, at least, was all biophage. I had assumed he’d been lying when he said he was one with the ship, but in this case it was indeed possible…in the way he’d meant it, at least. 

The vessel shuddered to what I would normally call wakefulness. In this case, it was just on. Before long, we’d left the decaying space station behind. Speeding off into the void. And I was trapped. Willingly trapped in the strange and limited confines of a (mostly) human creation. Confined with a member of a species that was my eternal enemy…whether that species cared to admit it or not. She was all I could smell and perceive, all I could think of. Besides perhaps the terror and regret  which I desperately tried and failed miserably to suppress. 

I hoped it would all be worth it. 

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