Shopping for Parts

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The world existed as a strange pulsing thrum, composed primarily by the ebbing and flowing of power that rolled and swelled through the confined space like blood flows through veins, though unlike through veins, it seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere at once. There was no feeling, so to speak, no heat or cold or pain, but there was some sense of comfort and familiarity, there was even a sense of movement: speeding up and slowing down and turning. Beyond that there was a sense of the things that belonged inside, almost like cells or organs though they felt more familiar than that, and from them power came. Most of the power was sort of dampened and difficult to access, but there were at least two sources of power from which all that life and energy flowed .

And then there were the eyes, or perhaps that was a bad way to put it, there was no color or light or dark, but there was a sense of everything, beyond seeing or feeling or anything comparable. It was understanding everything about the environment intimately and without trying, seeing everywhere and nowhere at once.

Each and everyone paired with a name.

Strange sounds and languages that were alien and odd, and seemed so small compared to the grand scale of communication that was possible, but still important.

They had moved, slipped through the darkness, folding the universe around them like a sheet of construction paper only to punch a hole through to the other side. And then there they were, and the universe around them was filled with life. Everything here was familiar,, points of energy in the distance that made of familiar stars and constellations which had long been charted.

Not home, but a close second.

Home was far away, very distance but it was not yet time to go home, that would happen later.

Noises.

That strange sense that seemed so small and inconsequential, but was not inconsequential when it was inside.

Turning inward.

Following the sounds.

"Hear me out." The voice was familiar, well known, and soothing. The voice of someone is important, but all the voices were like that if given enough time. The power that leaked from the voice was, dampened somewhat, difficult to read through the pulsing lines of power that connected everything, but still it was possible to feel the flowing and ebbing of flesh and bone and the distant electrical signals as organic material pulsed away inside a contained vessel of meat and bone.

"Forgive me for not seeking medical advice from a marine, who the last time I saw you in my office, came in because you had something stuck up your nose." Dr. Krill said, and as he spoke his internal temperature rose with increased agitation associated with anger. Not that this was uncommon for Dr. krill, he was usually angry, but these past few days had been enough to send him over the edge into a nebulous state of rage that had yet to pass.

There was a pause as Ramirez held up his hands, "Okay, that doesn't exactly lend much to my credibility,but still I think you should at least hear me out, and if you don;t like what I have to say you can throw me out."

"Bold of you to assume I don't already want to throw you out. The less people I have here the better, as of right now The Empyrean is the only thing keeping him alive. You understand I had to remove a good third of the contents of his chest cavity. His heart and one lung. They are irreparably damaged Ramirez. I had to throw them away, and it will take at least another day until I can grow the new replacements, not to mention skin and tissue grafts to replace the literal hole that is his torso right now. And if that wasn't bad enough. I understand having Sunny here, but having you as well!" His voice rose an octave, and a pulse of power surged outward from his body. Not a good pulse though. And so a little bit of gentle blue light was applied to the internal atmosphere.

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