first_timelord: (eye)
A dream sometimes comes to him when he finally bows to the inevitable and finds someplace in which to sleep.

The Time Scaphe had returned, the only good sign to be seen at that time. And yet even that proved to be the strike of a double-edged sword, for the crew of the ship were not to be found. The viscous, vaguely orange substance had told us all we needed to know--they had been liquefied.

Omega was gone. The Other was no help whatsoever, preferring to proselytise rather than do anything useful. It had fallen to me to find out why the ship had returned and yet its crew had not. It was obvious that the vortex had destabilised their structure to such an extent as to reduce them to some sort of primordial material, but how?

The ship had survived. Something about it had kept it intact. Unlike so many other ships across the Galaxy, this one was no mere vessel of metal and technology. So few of our ships were, after all. Organic neural clusters augmented the ship's computers, knitted together hull and bulkhead, even offered a pilot a degree of intuition of handling unheard of in other spacefaring technology. I was certain that therein lay the key.

Days and nights passed into increasing weariness of mind and body while the Intuitive Revelation raged across the planet. Strange that I know this only by the sounds of fighting outside my laboratory.

The answer had come to me in a half-asleep meandering of thought during a rare moment of ceasefire as I lay idly watching a tree-vole gnawing leaves from a branch. It could only survive aboveground due to the tiny insects that colonised in various places on its body, and they could only derive food from the thin fluid that excreted from is skin. An odd symbiosis, but a symbiosis nevertheless, allowing the creature to travel to areas it ordinarily could not reach....

A symbiotic link. That was the only way.

To this day I've no idea if the symbiotic nuclei came into being because of fevered ravings or because of a true creative epiphany. Certainly their development caused the next--as I was told and vaguely remember--several months to pass in a haze of hallucinations, violent illness and screaming acidic pain, all of which I had apparently refused to have treated.

I'd come to myself in an infirmary, being stared down at, with that blasted shadowy Other lurking in the background like something out of a melodrama. I was told later that I'd mumbled and giggled in a semi-conscious daze before finally focussing on the first person I saw and telling them, as clearly as anything, that I'd come upon a discovery and that I'd like something to drink, thank you.

I do remember that, the memory staying with me at random intervals when I awake from too long of a sleep....


first_timelord: (Default)

September 2012

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