The consumption of a god is a slow, silent business.
Vitalis, the living Star-Whale, had extended massive feeding tendrils—umbilical cords thick as skyscrapers—into the carcass of its dead brother. Like a deep-sea diver tethered to a shipwreck, Vitalis was siphoning nutrient-rich plasma from the corpse to heal the burns on its own skin.
Zin stood in the airlock of a transport beetle, watching the dead world get closer.
"Atmosphere check?" Zin asked.
"Non-existent," Captain Gorge replied, checking his heavy exo-suit. "The surface is hard vacuum. But inside the skull... scans show a pocket of pressurized gas. Methane and decay."
"Keep your helmets on," Zin ordered. "We aren't here to loot. We are here to retrieve the Black Box."
The beetle landed on the Cranial Ridge of the dead star. The bone was grey, brittle, and covered in the scars of the Aseptic League's mining lasers.
Zin, Elara, Gorge, and a squad of White Cell Guards stepped out.
Gravity was weak here. They bounded across the skull in slow-motion leaps.
"It feels... empty," Elara whispered. Her voice cracked over the comms. "No ghosts. No memories. Just silence."
"The Aseptic League stripped the cortex," Zin said, scanning the horizon. "They harvested the memories for data. They leave nothing but the husk."
They reached a massive breach in the skull—a hole drilled directly into the Parietal Lobe.
They descended into the dark.
Inside, the brain of the dead god was a petrified forest. The "trees" of grey matter were turned to stone. The neural pathways were severed cables hanging in the abyss.
It was a tomb.
"Doctor," Gorge pointed his rifle light into the darkness. "Movement at 12 o'clock."
Zin activated his Micro-Saccades Lenses. He zoomed in.
Deep within the petrified forest, something was glowing. A faint, amber light.
"It's a Stasis Cyst," Zin analyzed. "A biological panic room."
They approached cautiously. The cyst was buried in the root of the brain stem. It was covered in thick, hardened resin—amber made of spinal fluid.
Inside the amber, suspended in liquid, was a figure.
It wasn't a human.
It was a Centaur-like creature, but insectoid. Six legs, chitinous armor, and a humanoid upper torso. It held a spear made of white bone.
"A different virus," Zin realized. "The Creators don't just use humans. They use whatever species fits the host. On this star, they used these... things."
"Is it alive?" Elara asked, placing her hand on the amber.
"Barely," Zin read the biometrics on his scanner. "Metabolism is at 1%. It's been in hibernation for 500 years."
"Wake it up," Zin ordered.
Gorge stepped forward with a thermal cutter. He sliced through the amber.
HISSS.
The pressurized fluid evaporated instantly. The amber cracked open.
The creature fell to the dusty floor of the brain, coughing up blue slime. It thrashed, gripping its bone spear, its multi-faceted eyes darting around in panic.
"Back!" Gorge shouted, aiming his rifle.
The creature tried to stand, but its legs were atrophied. It looked at Zin, then at Elara.
It spoke.
The sound was a series of clicks and whistles, but the Universal Translator (derived from the Queen's processing power) decoded it instantly.
"THE CLEANERS... ARE THEY GONE?"
Zin stepped forward, hands raised to show he held no weapon.
"The Cleaners are gone. We are... fellow patients."
The creature slumped against the petrified wall. It looked at Zin's human face.
"You... you are the Soft-Skin Virus. The Model-H."
"We call ourselves Humans," Zin corrected. "Who are you?"
"I am Unit 88. Last Guardian of the hive," the creature clicked. "We killed our host. We ate him too fast. When the Cleaners came... there was nothing left to defend."
Unit 88 looked around the dead brain with infinite sadness.
"We failed. We were too greedy."
"We didn't fail," Zin said firmly. "We evolved. We saved our host."
The insectoid creature looked at Zin with shock. "Impossible. The Code demands consumption."
"We rewrote the Code," Zin said. "Unit 88, why did the Cleaners strip the brain? What were they looking for?"
The creature pointed a trembling claw at the empty cavity where the Pineal Gland used to be.
"The Coordinate," Unit 88 rasped. "Every Star-Entity carries a piece of the map in its biological memory. A map to the Origin Point."
"The Origin of the Creators?" Zin asked.
"No," the creature clicked. "The Origin of the Stars. The Nursery. The place where these cosmic whales are born."
Zin and Elara exchanged a look.
A Nursery. A place with thousands of young, vulnerable Star-Entities.
"The Cleaners want the map," Unit 88 continued. "If they find the Nursery... they will sterilize the entire species before they can grow. They will end the cycle of life in the universe."
"And they took the piece from this corpse?" Zin asked.
"Yes. But it is encrypted. They need three pieces to triangulate the location."
Unit 88 looked at Elara, sensing the immense power radiating from her.
"Your host... Vitalis. He is young. He carries a piece of the map too. That is why they are hunting you. Not just to clean you... but to harvest the Coordinate from your brain."
Zin stood up. The pieces of the puzzle were clicking into place.
This wasn't just a hunt. It was a race.
If the Aseptic League found the Nursery, they would commit genocide on a cosmic scale.
"Elara," Zin said, his voice cold. "We need to get back to the ship."
"What about him?" Elara asked, looking at the dying insectoid.
Zin looked at Unit 88. The creature was fading. 500 years of stasis had ruined its organs. It wouldn't survive the trip.
"Leave me," Unit 88 clicked. "Let me die with my world. Just... promise me one thing, Soft-Skin."
"Name it," Zin said.
"Do not let the Cleaners reach the Nursery. Save the children."
Zin nodded. "Doctor's orders."
He turned and walked away. Behind them, Unit 88 closed its eyes, finally finding rest in the silence of its dead god.
As they boarded the beetle, Zin looked up at the stars.
"Queen," Zin spoke into his comms. "We have a new objective."
"State it, Doctor," the Queen's voice replied in his ear.
"We aren't running anymore," Zin said. "We need to find the other Star-Entities before the League does. We need to collect the map pieces."
"We are going on a treasure hunt?" Gorge asked, confused.
"No," Zin watched the blue engines of the beetle ignite. "We are going on a rescue mission."