2.09 - Avatar of Adnexos

[Transcript]Zery and I were looking for another crew member.  Startin’ to feel the strain of only the two of us doing jobs. Met a Gahjavian while working for the Commune of Obdrin. Poor bastards still trying to save their Wrot. Zery bets it won’t last another millennium. I give them another hundred years.Obdrin Commune had us going towards the galactic heart of Apotheosis. Said there was a genus of beings there who might have a way to save their Wrot. Commission had a handsome reward through Apotheosis’s heart is a devil to navigate. Gahjavian said they could do it for us. We’d need the help to make it.Density of solar masses and interstellar medium at the heart means no metaphysic diaphragm and no Odo lenses to jump in close. Gotta lean on your neutrino substrate. And pray.Amid the hyper-density, a wicked, wide arch comes through the viewport. A lopsided ring a lightyear across. And it’s alive. Something starts gumming up the outside of the ship. Thick film of organic matter which I didn’t think was possible in this part of the galaxy. They grow gills, indusium veils weave over the surface of our ship which yank us towards the ring. The super-structure perspires droplets into space but the distance and sheer size are deceptive. We get closer and those droplets are planets. Deliquescent maturations of the larger fungal gleba. And it is fungal. The organic membrane around the ship seeps through the Oganesson-Titanium seals holding the vitro-plastic steel together. Zery and I duck into the sarcophagus but our Gahjavian navigator is too slow. Invading mycelial veins grab them. Mycorrhiza threads plait through their exoskeleton and then they grow still. I hear the ship land. After a few hours, Zery cracks the sarcophagus lid. It’s been hauled from the ship. Prototaxite stems nine meters tall surround us, the Gahjavian encrusted into the trunk of one. As we stir, so do they, their torso breaking off from the coniferous prototaxite, effluvial fluid gushing from the hole they leave behind.The fungal avatar of our former crewmate stands expectant. We explain why we’ve come here. No, they have nothing for this dying Wrot far away. Death doesn’t seem to be something they understand. And so, with no say in the matter, we’re ushered back out into space, empty handed, the Gahjavian still tethered to the strange fungal ring world in the galactic center.