Pass the Plot 3: Scene 7

Malkur watched the small ship carrying the boarding party hurtle toward his vessel. Five, the drone had said. Five was not nearly enough, but it was a start.

His weary gaze flickered away from the static filled screen to the control panel under it. With a thought, he commanded his ship to extend a docking tunnel and provide the party an adequate location to board. He could hear the buzz, the soft whine of a connection as he communicated with his ship. The ship responded slowly, far too slowly. He was getting too old. His people had been forgotten too long. Had been peaceful too many decades. The conversion process nearly perfected the body, but those organic components which were left still aged, still deteriorated under the burden of time.

No, he had waited far too long this time. His people needed new bodies. They needed a new injection of life. And the Galajax could provide the quickening his people needed.

Over three thousand fresh bodies, all ripe for conversion. Most were colonists, true. Soft, stupid, they were vermin fleeing a dying world, looking for another they could spread over like a plague as they lived out meaningless, short lives. The conversion would purify them. They would do. His people would be reborn.

But the crew . . .

The crew truly interested Malkur. Not all of them, but the hapless drone he'd planted had reported on several crewmen who might be useful. Who might be able to infuse new technology and ingenuity in his people.

Perhaps I'll even allow some to remember themselves. To become one of us instead of simple vessels. Malkur's ancient lips cracked as he smiled, an expression long absent from his haggard face.

Yes, it had been too long. But now things would change. And perhaps it was time for his people to do more than survive. It was time for them to thrive.