A bright, shimmering form of a vaguely humanoid being of light with wide wings seemed to drift lazily through the darkness of space. Though the figure was much slower than an ftl star-craft, she'd still been fast enough to be well gone from the system before the investigative ship arrived.
Originally, Aya's ascension had required immense levels of energy and lasted only briefly and proved only really practical in battle.
That had been four-hundred years ago.
Still, space-flight required huge amounts of energy from both her and her symbiotic neo-mitochondria. She had a very good chance of reaching a viable, for her, planet before she tired and either the vacuum or the burn out killed her, but it still wasn't the option she'd most have wanted to go for.
This was more like something Eve would do, except for the fact that the Parasite was so concerned with power that she'd burn out any host long before reaching any safe harbor. The symbiote didn't care so much about overwhelming power, only survial. It knew how to pace itself and its host.
Sometimes Aya wished she could actually talk to the second sentience in her instead of just sort of feel it. Would give her some companionship in situations like these.
To make matters worse, she had no way to confirm whether or not Eve had died.
If not, then her consciousness escaped in some unlucky woman and soon the parasite would try to produce the Ultimate Being again.
Fortunately, that wasn't something that could be accomplished with just any breeding sample.
The war wasn't over yet.
And she still had a bone to pick with STARS.
One of the corporation security personel, a hard-faced woman, sat in the medical bay of the sleek, dark ship and waited for the scans to tell whether or not she was infected.
"Damn bitch," she muttered as she investigated the scratches on her arms. "Better not have been infected."
One of the survivors that they'd processed had managed to get close enough to beg for mercy and scratch the woman. She'd seemingly been driven mad in panic.
"Good news," the medic said. "I found no evidence of the T-Virus in either you or the blood sample from that woman."
"That's good at least," the merc said.
And inside her cells, neo-mitochondria sharing a single horrid sentience reproduced as slowly as they could to prolong both the survival of this most recent host and how long she would be overlooked.
If someone had resurrected her from the past, then someone had to have Meada's research and that meant the ingredients for the ultimate being existed somewhere.
A being she could infect and control and use all the energy she wanted without burning out the body.
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(Posted Mon, 25 Jan 2010 22:41)
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