3.2
Drich
Von Neumann Writing Machine
3.2
+++
Singleton named the baby 'Timaeus'.
He was a powerful little tyke, having taken only two days to reach stage two in Symbiosis.
It would have been quicker, but the relationship between his body and soul had slowed it. Adaptation had been careful, and the Symbiont's growth slowed in response. Still, even so, it was far faster than any other.
Normally, I left when they hit stage two. Pulled my bodies away, on account of their Symbionts. Grown, the Symbionts provided all the protection and assistance that a host would need.
Normally. Not with this one. Knowing what he was, I felt that he was a little too important to just leave alone.
Not that he'd be alone, of course. Singleton was there for him, and given Singleton's close connection with the other members of the council, most of them would be there for him, too.
He was in good hands. I just felt like I should maintain a greater presence.
Heh. Not like a body was much of a 'greater presence'. Kid put out enough energy for an army, and here I was with just a single body.
Ah well.
Nothing to do but wait, now.
+++
Time passed quickly. Some things changed.
Some things didn't.
+++
My Silence grew strong. I wasn't willing to just play around, anymore. Not with that baby here. When the night came and no Daemons arrived, even at the peak of the Daemontide... People had been enthused.
Resourcing efforts started the very next day. Stone Drones, designed with the latest of anti-Warp technologies, were deployed en masse to the uninhabited and mountainous northern part of the island.
Three weeks later, Collector Drones had stripped it flat. In the place of mountains and hills was a silver sheet, the beginnings of a megafactory that would be the center of the future efforts for Project Moth.
By the end of the second month, Geomanipulator Devices had rent the ground asunder. The mantle had been breached, forcing the molten blood of the world to the surface, where scores of refining machines drank it in and spat out containers full of pure atomic elements. They were supported by banks of Nucleo-Synthesizers, taking in the useless materials and transforming even that into a steady supply of productive materials.
It wasn't Iron Technology. There were no great Mechnivores, with the strength to rip continents from planets and the power to absorb the raw data of aetherial space-time. It wasn't the most powerful of Federation Technology, either. No weapons systems that could rearrange local reality, flick things through the cracks in time to ensure a set of relational circumstances.
This planet had been a fairly normal world, all considered. This technology was civilian-scale, at most.
But it was intact. The ideas behind it were intact. The STC, though civilian-grade had never been corrupted, thanks to me.
And perhaps even more importantly, the people were scientifically inclined and intelligent enough to transform mere civilian technology into greater tools.
+++
It could have started earlier. Resources had never been the reason; neither in acquiring them or putting them to use. Technology had never been the reason; not in a civilization that spent its spare time developing ever more ways to say 'Fuck the Warp'. Even population hadn't really been a reason; autocubators could produce incredible amounts of Humans more or less on command.
The reason was will.
Because where would that leave them? Who would they be, if they did that?
Having lost everything, not knowing if anyone was out there, and still reeling from a pair of catastrophes, focus had turned inwards. Establishing the self, preserving millennia of morals, ethics, culture, and more aside.
And that was fair.
It wasn't enough to win. Or, rather, it wasn't enough to just win.
You had to win, and stay yourself. Winning, but in the process discarding what made them the people they are?
That was anathema.
So they didn't. They held what they valued close. Built the walls that kept them safe, guarded against the depravations of the outside, and in the meantime... Population grew naturally, not with abandon through their greatest technologies. Cultures stayed, were passed from parent to child. Ethics and morals were codified, carefully taught. Hell's invasion hadn't broken them, despite the evil unleashed. They refused to be twisted like that. They'd die before they broke.
It was a refusal that would kill anyone else.
Among all the people of the galaxy, their luxury was they had me. I was the foundation they could stand on, when they planted their feet and spat in Chaos' eye. I was the shield that kept them safe for long enough for them to build their armours to keep themselves safe. Truth was, if I were to vanish tomorrow, then things would get worse, but they would survive it.
I too would survive, if they were to suddenly vanish tomorrow. But much like them, things would get worse for me. Without them, without what they gave me, I wouldn't be much more than a parasite, wandering a dangerous galaxy in search of food. I'd find it, fighting for my life to do so, doubtlessly. Perhaps I could limit myself to just Chaos, devour nothing but the energies of the Warp, but that would leave me in the same position, afterwards.
Hungry.
And, perhaps even worse, alone. I'd been born a social creature, and I still was one, despite everything. I needed it less, now, yes, but I still needed companionship on some level. Lest...
I didn't want to know what time, hunger, and loneliness could twist me into.
That was a life without devoid of greater purpose. When the only reason to survive and grow was survival and growth itself. Utterly meaningless.
So I helped them. Protected them. And eventually, started Symbiosis with them. I gave them strength, they gave me food.
I gave them protection, they gave me direction. A reason to fight, a reason to refine my shapes further and further, a reason to exist for the sake of something more than existence itself.
They gave me people to care about.
We were much stronger together than we were alone. We could accomplish so much more.
The Warp Storm kept us physically contained, but that was a prison with rusted bars.
It was will that was the true chain.
But the moment we wanted to get out... The moment that chain broke?
The Warp Storm could not keep us forever.
+++
Singleton named the baby 'Timaeus'.
He was a powerful little tyke, having taken only two days to reach stage two in Symbiosis.
It would have been quicker, but the relationship between his body and soul had slowed it. Adaptation had been careful, and the Symbiont's growth slowed in response. Still, even so, it was far faster than any other.
Normally, I left when they hit stage two. Pulled my bodies away, on account of their Symbionts. Grown, the Symbionts provided all the protection and assistance that a host would need.
Normally. Not with this one. Knowing what he was, I felt that he was a little too important to just leave alone.
Not that he'd be alone, of course. Singleton was there for him, and given Singleton's close connection with the other members of the council, most of them would be there for him, too.
He was in good hands. I just felt like I should maintain a greater presence.
Heh. Not like a body was much of a 'greater presence'. Kid put out enough energy for an army, and here I was with just a single body.
Ah well.
Nothing to do but wait, now.
+++
Time passed quickly. Some things changed.
Some things didn't.
+++
My Silence grew strong. I wasn't willing to just play around, anymore. Not with that baby here. When the night came and no Daemons arrived, even at the peak of the Daemontide... People had been enthused.
Resourcing efforts started the very next day. Stone Drones, designed with the latest of anti-Warp technologies, were deployed en masse to the uninhabited and mountainous northern part of the island.
Three weeks later, Collector Drones had stripped it flat. In the place of mountains and hills was a silver sheet, the beginnings of a megafactory that would be the center of the future efforts for Project Moth.
By the end of the second month, Geomanipulator Devices had rent the ground asunder. The mantle had been breached, forcing the molten blood of the world to the surface, where scores of refining machines drank it in and spat out containers full of pure atomic elements. They were supported by banks of Nucleo-Synthesizers, taking in the useless materials and transforming even that into a steady supply of productive materials.
It wasn't Iron Technology. There were no great Mechnivores, with the strength to rip continents from planets and the power to absorb the raw data of aetherial space-time. It wasn't the most powerful of Federation Technology, either. No weapons systems that could rearrange local reality, flick things through the cracks in time to ensure a set of relational circumstances.
This planet had been a fairly normal world, all considered. This technology was civilian-scale, at most.
But it was intact. The ideas behind it were intact. The STC, though civilian-grade had never been corrupted, thanks to me.
And perhaps even more importantly, the people were scientifically inclined and intelligent enough to transform mere civilian technology into greater tools.
+++
It could have started earlier. Resources had never been the reason; neither in acquiring them or putting them to use. Technology had never been the reason; not in a civilization that spent its spare time developing ever more ways to say 'Fuck the Warp'. Even population hadn't really been a reason; autocubators could produce incredible amounts of Humans more or less on command.
The reason was will.
Because where would that leave them? Who would they be, if they did that?
Having lost everything, not knowing if anyone was out there, and still reeling from a pair of catastrophes, focus had turned inwards. Establishing the self, preserving millennia of morals, ethics, culture, and more aside.
And that was fair.
It wasn't enough to win. Or, rather, it wasn't enough to just win.
You had to win, and stay yourself. Winning, but in the process discarding what made them the people they are?
That was anathema.
So they didn't. They held what they valued close. Built the walls that kept them safe, guarded against the depravations of the outside, and in the meantime... Population grew naturally, not with abandon through their greatest technologies. Cultures stayed, were passed from parent to child. Ethics and morals were codified, carefully taught. Hell's invasion hadn't broken them, despite the evil unleashed. They refused to be twisted like that. They'd die before they broke.
It was a refusal that would kill anyone else.
Among all the people of the galaxy, their luxury was they had me. I was the foundation they could stand on, when they planted their feet and spat in Chaos' eye. I was the shield that kept them safe for long enough for them to build their armours to keep themselves safe. Truth was, if I were to vanish tomorrow, then things would get worse, but they would survive it.
I too would survive, if they were to suddenly vanish tomorrow. But much like them, things would get worse for me. Without them, without what they gave me, I wouldn't be much more than a parasite, wandering a dangerous galaxy in search of food. I'd find it, fighting for my life to do so, doubtlessly. Perhaps I could limit myself to just Chaos, devour nothing but the energies of the Warp, but that would leave me in the same position, afterwards.
Hungry.
And, perhaps even worse, alone. I'd been born a social creature, and I still was one, despite everything. I needed it less, now, yes, but I still needed companionship on some level. Lest...
I didn't want to know what time, hunger, and loneliness could twist me into.
That was a life without devoid of greater purpose. When the only reason to survive and grow was survival and growth itself. Utterly meaningless.
So I helped them. Protected them. And eventually, started Symbiosis with them. I gave them strength, they gave me food.
I gave them protection, they gave me direction. A reason to fight, a reason to refine my shapes further and further, a reason to exist for the sake of something more than existence itself.
They gave me people to care about.
We were much stronger together than we were alone. We could accomplish so much more.
The Warp Storm kept us physically contained, but that was a prison with rusted bars.
It was will that was the true chain.
But the moment we wanted to get out... The moment that chain broke?
The Warp Storm could not keep us forever.