"Approching the asteroids now, Captain."

"Right. Put it on screen."

"Aye. Here it is, our baby. But--"

Gentle night lights off the nacelle

caress upon asteroid precinct,

smooth shapes emerge from the shadow,

uncanny fatty valleys calling for embrace.

"Marvelous! Launch the Cronos!"

"... Aye. Captain."

"Ready for sortie. Cronos Out!"

Bright umbilical cord lashing on the dark sea,

ephemeral life line for a voracious soul,

leads the spacesuit on a waltz with the asteroid until contact,

landing, trampling, defiling the asteroid aroused by the nightmare.

"Cancel the mission! Call back the Cronos! Maximum speed!"

"The cordon is entangled! We are losing speed. Captain!"

"A baby?"

Innocent murderous wee hand grabs Cronos,

frightened, torned, a soul leaks out of the cyclopean cockpit,

facing the angelic visage deformed by the flood of glittering slime,

maternal instinct rise,

calls for a nursery rhyme,

in vain, pain doesn't die,

triggering a final mephitic cry.