And so we discover what's wrong with John... This chapter is dedicated to BMick, for their spot on speculation ;) Thank you to all for the comment cookies, keep them coming! :D
Chapter 3
Primus sensed when its kin died.
Cruelly torn from their host, tossed aside and smashed to pieces. Such a careless disregard for their lives, yet a warning to the ones who remained.
Keep still. Keep quiet. Stay hidden.
Following these rules allowed Primus to stay connected to this entity without detection or fear of being disposed of as its kin had been. Primus dug into flesh and buried itself then lay somewhat dormant. Very unlike its nature. For a while, it mourned the loss of its kin, for they were the only remaining original family it had.
From a young age, Primus knew its purpose; eat, sleep, and aid in the survival of their species. Known only as Goh, they lived by this lazy natural rhythm and their population exploded in the depths of an ocean of a planet far away. Goh had fierce survival instincts, natural defence mechanisms that were rarely brought into play as they were top of the food chain in their watery world. Small as they were, an army of Goh could consume a behemoth within minutes, or use it as a vessel to reach other parts of the oceans far quicker and much farther than if tried alone.
Then, They had come.
They, with their hulking bodies and snatching claws and cruel nets. The Goh thought of Them as Groten, a slur in their own minds. In the beginning, thousands of Goh were harvested from the depths. At first as a possible food source, but then, on the discovery of their phenomenal defence mechanisms, as ammunition for weapons forged specifically to hold them. The seas were quickly emptied of Goh, harvested for a war they had no part in.
Through intrinsic mass knowledge, Primus knew such was the way of this galaxy.
The fury of Goh only made the Groten happier. It made Their weapons fire true and with an intelligent fury no normal projectile could ever possess. Now, most Goh lived in huge, murky tanks in the lands of those who captured them. But there were too many Goh, living in too close proximity. Cannibalism reigned as long as cramped conditions remained, killing each other to survive long enough to get out of their hell.
Primus had killed many in its need to survive.
With the lack of space and freedom, a new prime directive became entrenched within the captive Goh consciousness; reproduce at all costs, in any way possible, when freedom was won. This drove the Goh to adapt a rather ingenious way to further reproduce and have their species escape captivity. Any of their captors who were stupid enough to handle them without protection became walking incubators for their young. When Goh were fired as living missiles, the target became the host. In this way, Goh maintained a tenuous chance of survival through their offspring.
The Goh's natural instinct to burrow into and gain control of their enemies meant they could bring down an army within a short battle. They could produce a massive electrical discharge from inside their bodies, the voltage of which was enough to kill even the largest of creatures. But many captured Goh could not kill with this defence, too drained and stressed by the removal from their natural home.
When the electrical discharge was not an option, Goh used their strong circular mouths lined with tiny sharp teeth to gouge their way inside their enemy. Their limbs were useful only in liquid and played no part in the burrowing process. The flesh they consumed was quickly transformed into energy to keep them alive so they just kept on moving until they reached a place of sufficient nature which could maintain them. Which, within a living host, was ultimately in their blood or blood rich tissue. Then their need to pass on their genetic code came into play and this meant many a fallen Groten became a nest for young Goh, who were nourished by the highly nutrient blood. Mostly these young were destined to die desperately as the fluid they thrived in dried to solid graves unless they managed to water first.
The lucky ones and the only ones that might survive were those whose host died near lakes, rivers or seas. When the host expired near water, the young started burrowing. Only unlike their parent, they moved outward and towards a liquid environment which could sustain them. By this time, Primus's job was complete and it would release all hold of the host's senses and attempt its own escape. All of this meant a rather gruesome and painful death for the unfortunate host. As a result of this adjusted way of reproducing, some Goh survived on many more planets than knew of their existence. Primus could only hope to survive long enough in this being to reach water and join them.
This host was already failing, Primus could sense it. Its kin had delivered their spawn just as Primus had engaged the host's mind. In order to fully integrate into a nonwater environment, the Goh had developed a way to render their host inactive as they took hold. The lead Goh, the Primus, would make contact with the host's mind, closing it down so that others were not dislodged. Primus then suffused the mind with apathy, allowing no panic nor wild notion which could bring harm to the Goh. The host would shut down, becoming almost a flesh automaton for the Goh and their offspring. Depending on how many Goh made it through development, the host may well live a week or two without even knowing it was injured or filled with multiple lives.
This host, though, didn't have that long.
The destruction of the others meant their mechanism was cut short in the midst of burrowing. They barely had time to take hold never mind birth. In their panic to become part of the host, they bit and consumed through to bone but failed to reach the blood, unleashing wild electric shocks in their panic. The host suffered horrendously, and that was, in part, the fault of Primus.
The moment it left the weapon all its senses were blown away. A creature such as it should never be airborne. Their bodies were not suited to such atmosphere and by the time Primus hit the host, its mind had blanked. When it regained its senses, the others were already forcing their way into the host. The host experienced pain that was meant to be dulled by Primus. Therefore, they were found, detached and destroyed before fully taking root. Which was fully Primus's fault. Despite this, the others birthed. In a deranged hysteria, as they were wrenched from flesh and muscle, they started the process which Primus now monitored.
The host now held more of its kin.
With its recent loss, Primus was determined to see these tiny lives to safety, even if it meant death for itself. Being Primus meant it could never create life. It was destined to be a protector of life alone.
Primus dampened the host's pain. Dulled its senses and soothed it into an oblivious stupor. It made the host unaware of its pain and discomfort. Allowed the host to speak to its kin so that no suspicion would be aroused. The very act of eating to sustain itself would cause the host injury, therefore Primus starved itself so that the young might live while guiding the host towards a sanctuary it could sense through the host's own senses.
But the host-kin was troublesome and was the very thing that killed Primus's original kin.
Already the host-kin had pulled the host further away from Primus's much-needed sanctuary. Time was running out. The damage to the host was too severe and Primus took on the suffering, pulled it all into itself if only to allow the host to go on further and save its kin.
Perhaps one day Primus's kind would leave the water and rise against those who tore them from their home. But for now, survival was the most pressing issue. Primus turned slowly within the pocket it burrowed within the host, careful not to fry any nerves with its electrical defence mechanism. It sensed the young starting to become aware and to think, even as Primus sensed the thoughts of the host drift further away.
Time was running out and there was nothing Primus could do about it.
To be continued. Cookies, please...