♪ Rama OST 11: Plains 2 Stereo ♪ Her eyelids parted and the cosmos laid itself bare before Her. What things were like Before suddenly pressed itself on her mind, even as She watched the universe boil and chill. She could remember those days before It fell, joyous but never easy. The dedication she made to a calling on a simple wish, the move to serve a greater union that followed the failure. There was also the time She was known as Dishonored, but then known as Savior. Hero. The memory of being Dishonored faded, replaced by Exemplar. Why would she be Dishonored? She was military. Disciplined. The imagined praise died out as one word singled itself out in Her mind. It burned Her consciousness like a brand, presenting itself with an offensiveness that could not be ignored. Akahar. Something about the memory hurt more than usual, felt more. It was Her ascension, but somehow it stung this time. The first few months felt the same with the certain traitor who - no, that man. . . who was that? She attempted to recall, but a new thought asserted itself. No, it was Him. He was always captain of that ship. The ship of outcasts - no, a prize ship with the honorable task of searching for the fallen. Others, their names and faces roiled and changed, but He remained a constant. As did the Prey-Consultant. She remembered that one quite well. Always weak, always watching. The Memory first included a ship of grim vignettes, and an attack by interlopers - and then didn't. As if nothing important had occurred but the Discovery and the ascension that followed. The Discovery was grand. A ship long lost, one of the first to touch the stars. And She had the honor of searching it. But She was not as She is now. She was weak. And then They tried connecting with Her. They did not ask. They tried to take. She took right back. She remembered her comrades turning on Her, so She fled. There was that priest, the dangerous - no, wait. . . She had to take pause. They had never needed to replace crew and retrieve supplies that way. There was no attack that warranted it. She returned to her ruminations, satisfied her memory was in order. The culling She performed on the crew, but still they tried to fight back. They did not leave her alone. They tried sneaky tactics, and then fleeing. . . but they could not kill Her. She was Strong. She danced in the stars for the first time. She tried to get to Him. Maybe to explain. Maybe to feed. That was one element She could not remember. But then the Prey came with an arsenal. She fled. Merril looked away from the stars to the valley that surrounded her. Her work had only just begun, but already the landscape suited her and her prodgeny. Yes, her "children." She looked at one of the creatures, pawing and clamoring for her attention. She picked it up, cradled it. Ate it. Maybe it would be better next time. She was the Mother of Many. The Many, the Phasma, would change the universe. And She would watch.
