I think I'm going to make them talk to each other soon, maybe even add some reaper's action. Well, mild action for now!
I thank all the viewers and, obviously, ChainzOfThePastfor the review! I'm glad you liked it ;) Hope you will like the others as well.
Hope there are only little errors.
Enjoy :)
2.
Across the void, reunion
He floated.
In the dull and ethereal mist – indistinguishable from his shell, sneaking in his millenary tentacles –, the hull devoured kilometers.
He was tailing a trail in the dark, in the background that his algorithms didn't record as an hostile, or an ally. A gentle trace, discontinuous, a marker that was passing through the customs of his systems with the disarming simplicity of a code that didn't require decryption.
His idiom, whispered afar.
Elusive forms were hovering and wandering nearby, grotesque, gloomy like him, big limbs twitching and tensing, luminescent streaks made of microscopic white bulbs outlining the shape of his heirs.
So much heirs. So much lieges, offsprings, progenies. All of them product of a millenary schedule, all of them the outcome of an organic and synthetic solution.
Eyes were staring. Still, inscrutable – judgments void of awe. Docile like a faded warmth, steady like frozen time.
Harbinger gazed, algorithms in perpetual search of links, of balanced ramifications. Like brief darts in his circuits – buried under the indestructible cloak of his unconcerned will of pursuit – electrical pulses were building the consensus for the sake of judgment.
Other spies in the vacuum returned the gaze, short of any haste, because what room could be in their cores for a notion bred by those who they were going to help purge themselves?
No threat, no danger had ever undermined their crusade. The process of creation required a mediation that the magnitude of their intellect only could satisfy.
The revolt, the hostility encountered in the cycles were the result of a weak lament, the frail wail of those who didn't acknowledge the quiet of an endless repetition, of the order that a galactic silence only could ensure.
A silence fellow to them.
No feedback then, no formulation of analysis for the organics' behavior: it didn't allow the existence of the peace with which they, immortals, cohabited without complaint.
Massive frames were fluctuating around him – a welcomed sight. His progenies – their tentacles jerking in gentle turmoil –, howling hymns in empty space – horns singing: they recognized his presence, the sinusoidal perfection of his algebraic evaluation. A fair network of consensus.
Steady, the legions halted in front of him, silent.
Billions of eyes converged, focused on his hull. A miniature galaxy of gloomy gleams, lanterns in the darkness held by the skeletal and hamate limb of the Unknown.
Harbinger floated in the iron posture of stillness. Equally still, space nothing heard of that subtle exchange.