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A starship glides through the spare, white pocked darkness between suns. Most of its passengers lie in frozen, dreamless sleep, its crew roused from decades long slumber for months at a time. Its engines haven't fired in years, for there is no friction to slow it down. Eventually, the interstellar medium thickens with dust and solar winds. The ship passes through an Oort cloud into the walled garden of a new star-system. It's cooly observant array of sensors pick up radio signals. The evidence of life. Its engines roar silently to life, not to pick up speed, but to deccelerate as it presses on towards the fourth world from this system's sun. More crew are roused.
In weeks, the ship is orbiting a verdant, four mooned world. Eight continents green and red and yellow and more besides. Even the moons themselves are alive. Except for one. That moon is unnaturally smooth and metalic.
It also hatches. Tendrils reach across the void, ensnaring the vessel and pulling it into the body, closing around it.
The waking crew are neutralized easily. The frozen cargo are catalogued for future use.
Years pass. Centuries. The moon recieves a signal from its big sister below. Its time for some more variables. The moon searches through its collection of sleeping minds for someone entertaining.
Yes. They'll do. Him first.
