Arrival at Zypheron IV

The Starfire drifted into high orbit around Zypheron IV, a shadow against the brilliant tropical blue of the planet below.

From the command bridge—its walls pulsing faintly with organic veins—Mother stood before the main communications array, her bark-armored body radiating a terrible, restrained power.

She reached into the ship’s systems with a mere thought and triggered the hail.

The transmission sliced through the void with sharp precision, washing over Zypheron IV’s orbital stations and control centers.

Her voice filled their channels: deep, resonant, commanding—but still unmistakably female.

"This is Mother. I come in peace. I seek contact, understanding, and alliance."

The planetary authorities, startled by the sudden signal, scrambled to respond.

Alien visitors were not unknown on Zypheron IV—diplomatic envoys, merchant guilds, colonial scouts—but Mother was unlike anything logged in their protocols.

The planetary governor’s council convened emergency protocols.

Screens lit up with Mother’s transmission.

Her image—a towering figure of bark-like flesh, luminous eyes gleaming with alien intelligence—sent ripples of confusion through the ranks.

Still—first contact demanded diplomacy.

The Governor, Celeste Avari, a composed woman in her late thirties with dark, sharp eyes and a reputation for iron-willed pragmatism, personally initiated the response.

"This is Governor Avari of Zypheron IV. You are welcome. First contact protocols are now in effect. Please prepare for escort and quarantine procedures. We look forward to peaceful relations."

Mother inclined her head slightly, her new face bending into something that could almost be called a smile.

"Of course, Governor. I will comply."

Meanwhile, far below, unnoticed and undisturbed, the first pod had already breached the atmosphere.

It landed softly, camouflaged by the dense jungles that blanketed Zypheron’s equatorial region.

The impact was slight—no greater than a falling tree.

From its broken shell slithered Mother's first advance bloom—small, writhing creatures and thick, living vines, already seeding themselves into the humid, fertile ground.

Roots burrowed deep.

Spores floated invisible into the breeze.

Tiny, glistening tendrils snaked into the underbrush, questing toward the nearest signs of animal—and human—life.

The infestation had begun.

Within hours, Mother herself descended to the surface in a shuttle formed from the flesh-metal hybrid systems of the Starfire, her body sheathed in a flowing dark robe that only half-concealed her impossible size and form.

Governor Avari, standing at the central landing pad of Zypheron’s capital city, waited with a small honor guard—stiff in their pressed uniforms, hiding the unease that prickled the air.

Mother stepped from the shuttle, her every movement slow, regal, inevitable.

The guards stiffened. Some swallowed hard. None dared lift their weapons.

Mother’s mere presence made the air feel heavier, richer, perfumed with a scent both sweet and unsettling.

Governor Avari approached alone, her heels clicking sharply on the polished stone of the landing pad.

She extended a hand, as tradition dictated.

Mother stared at it for a long, breathless moment—then extended her own bark-covered hand, large enough to engulf the governor’s, and grasped it in a slow, deliberate clasp.

"Governor Avari."

"Thank you for your hospitality."

Her voice rolled over the gathered officials like smoke—warm, heavy, and thick with promise.

Avari smiled politely, hiding the flicker of discomfort behind years of diplomatic training.

"Welcome to Zypheron IV, Mother. We have prepared accommodations and wish to discuss your intentions here."

"I would be honored."

Minutes later, deep inside the government’s central spire, behind heavy security doors and polished marble corridors, Mother and Governor Avari sat alone in a private chamber.

The honor guards waited beyond the soundproof walls.

The chamber itself was small and circular, windows looking out over the lush green expanse of Zypheron’s jungles—the very place where Mother’s children were already spreading.

Avari sat across from her guest, hands folded neatly on the table between them.

Mother leaned back, exuding an effortless dominance that filled the room.

The governor began, her voice measured, her eyes wary but intrigued:

"Before we proceed, Mother... I must ask: what do you truly seek here?"

Mother’s luminous eyes gleamed in the low light.

She tilted her head slightly, as if savoring the moment.

"Only what I have always sought, Governor."

"A place to grow. A place to... thrive."

Outside the windows, the green horizon seemed to shiver—though to Governor Avari, it was only the wind.

She did not yet know.

Not yet.

But soon.