Chapter Text
Life in the village was tense, but in some ways satisfying. There were few people that dared take up their line of work, and the handful scattered towns throughout the system did their best to survive. The work they did, though, was important. The infestation needed someone to keep it at bay, while bringing back samples for the scientists to use, to better understand the disease and how to fight it. But however difficult life was inside the village, it was infinitely worse anywhere else. Somehow, people could tell what their line of work was. Even the clone legion looked upon them with contempt or pity. The higher-ranking members of society would treat them as if they already had the plague and dared to bring it near them. If they ever happened to walk near the top Orokin, they would be killed on sight by the Dax. This they knew from experience.
Despite the prejudice, despite the constant danger, despite never being thanked by the scientists that so desperately needed the samples, the villagers were happy. They laughed together, and told stories over meals of times long ago, and of times yet to be. Whenever a new face would show up in the village, they would bring more stories to eager ears. The villagers would cry together, and send off the dead with heavy hearts, reminded of how perilous their existence was. Nobody left the village except through death.
Death, and the disappearances that would come soon.
This village was luckier than others, as the infestation was very tame. Most of the grotesque monsters that they encountered had no particular intelligence to speak of, and Ancients never showed, as the area was too fresh to have allowed them to grow. There were very few bodies in the area in the first place, so the danger was exceedingly low. The majority of this village’s job was pruning back the strange growths that were hallmarks of infested territory. The curious thing was, it seemed as though the growths learned where they weren’t wanted. The paths near the village had remained clear for many months, and seldom were the times that any sort of infestation was detected nearby.
This odd behavior was noted by the villagers, but never questioned. They were thankful that there was one less thing to worry about. While on patrol, one group of villagers discovered a new room that hadn’t been explored previously. What greeted them was a bizarre sight. Infested tendrils, some with blades on the ends, were cutting into a crawler. After… something was accomplished, the tendrils seemed to staple the creature back up with what looked like pieces of bone. The crawler then began to move towards them, not out of aggression, but simply since the door was in their direction. They stepped out of its path, and the thing continued down the hall, wandering out of sight. The patrol group became nervous, retreating to the village to tell of their findings. They compiled a report, sending it off to the scientists.
The report caught the attention of one particular person, who was struck by an idea. Was there a possibility, that perhaps the infestation wasn’t a single strain? Could it be that this failed weapon in the War would yet bear fruit? He set out to conduct an experiment. He shrouded himself, so as not to alarm the villagers, and began.
This shall be the beginning of my notes on a new wave of using the infestation. I have set up observation equipment in the room where the tendrils apparently perform surgery on other infested. Current hypothesis is that the tendrils are reducing aggression of subjects as a defense mechanism to prevent annihilation, likely because the tendrils do not have mobility. If it is possible to manipulate the tendrils into creating infested that fight the Sentients, our overall casualties should be greatly reduced. Possibility of communicating with the tendrils should be a first avenue of exploration. I shall procure a living person from the village and present it to the tendrils. Perhaps some sort of amalgamation will result, allowing communication from both parties.
I sedated a villager, placing it in the room with the tendrils. Strangely, they seemed hesitant to perform work on the figure. I decided to leave and return in an hour’s time. If anything interesting happened, the feeds that I set up should have provided all the detail I need. Upon my return, I found that I did not need to review the footage. The tendrils had apparently done something to the figure, though it was not immediately apparent what. I took them back to my ship, quarantining them.
Two weeks later, an eternity in terms of infested growth, the villager began to change. Their body twisted, and functioning became increasingly difficult. I interviewed the specimen daily, trying to ascertain when the ability to speak and reason was lost. After this point was reached, the abomination was terminated. I procured another three villagers to perform the same experiment, taking it further. At a point three days before expected cessation of higher functions, I took one specimen back to the room with the tendrils. Subject had shown some aggressive tendencies, so was heavily sedated as to ensure ease of transport. After placing the subject in the room with the tendrils, I interrogated them on whether it was possible to communicate with the infested. The subject sat quietly for many minutes, the tendrils… watching? silently. I believe there was some sort of rattling being produced, but the audio quality of my field surveillance equipment is subpar to put it nicely. The subject reported being unable to communicate.
The next subject proved to be more useful. After repeating the same procedure, the subject reported being able to understand some of what the tendrils were saying. Much of it was nonsense, of course. However, this understanding was important. Upon request to communicate with the tendrils, subject reported not having the ability.
The final subject of this batch was degrading faster than expected, so I had to accelerate its schedule. This subject provided data indicating it was able to pass on communications to the tendrils, but was too lacking in vocal capacity to translate for me as the former subject had.
With this in mind, I gathered two more subjects from the village, and performed the same experiment. This time, however, I had them both amalgamated into a basic cephalon, with the sole purpose of allowing me to communicate with the tendrils. Having accomplished this, I returned to the room.
The ensuing conversation is recorded in the cephalon’s memory archive, but to summarize for this report, I made a deal with the tendrils. I would ensure its safety if it worked with me to produce warriors that could fight against the Sentients. The creature replied that it could indeed try, but it would need materials and subjects. Luckily, I have access to these in abundance. I briefly wondered how it had gotten any technical knowledge, but the potential to turn the tide of the war was too great an opportunity to waste on pursuing such trivial details. The creature also declared that it had a name, though I shall not deign to acknowledge that until it has provided results.
I allowed the tendrils to take up several rooms on my ship, providing myself numerous failsafe mechanisms in case it tried to attempt something. After it had grown to a sufficient size to allow multiple conversions at once, our research began.
The first thirty experiments were complete failures. They all had varying levels of strength, but the mental faculties always degraded past the point of usefulness for any kind of weapon against the Sentients. They would often end up fighting against themselves. I integrated the cephalon I had created with the tendrils, allowing it advanced data processing. We weighed all parameters, and the tendrils produced more serums, altering variables as we saw fit. The next batch of subjects were all attempting to analyze different variables to find what might be effective. Three in particular stood out.
One of them had their skin turned incredibly hard, to the point where many of the weapons in my personal arsenal had little effect. Unfortunately, there were no joints that survived the transformation, rendering the subject completely immobile. If this trait can be moderated, it will significantly increase the durability of our potential weapons against the Sentients.
Another showed remarkable agility, well beyond that of a normal humanoid, let alone an infested. Mobility is always useful when fighting in battles, so I took note of this.
The third was harder to explain. It seemed as though it was able to produce weak fields of energy, though there were few concrete effects. Doing this drained its life incredibly rapidly, reducing its body mass as well. If this capacity to manipulate energy of some sort can be harnessed, it is possible we will have our answer. I raided some manufacturing depots for parts that we could try incorporating into our next batch of tests.
For the next set of tests, we reduced the quantity, going for the best quality we could muster. After performing extensive surgeries to implement the power equipment, we waited for the serums to take their course. Unfortunately, half of them died after reaching a certain point in development. The equipment in them overloaded, though the manner in which they died was curious. One burst into flames, another simply exploded, and a third somehow froze to death, affecting a not insignificant area around it, but to name a few. These potential abilities were noted to be elaborated upon in the future.
Of those that survived, only two were not feral to the point of uselessness. One showed simply absurd amounts of physical strength, with a form that had swelled to match. The other had somehow acquired the ability to bend light in its immediate vicinity, rendering It close to invisible if it concentrated. We considered these great successes.
After weighing several more options, we aimed to formulate a serum to compile the best elements that we could from previous tests. This single serum would be administered to ten individuals representing variables that may arise from the subjects themselves. Seven of them died. Of the three that remained, one had no abilities at all, and was slowly twisted by the growths, eventually losing their voice. However, their mind stayed intact. Another actually changed very little, visually, the hardening of their skin somehow also affecting their clothing, incorporating it as part of the whole. Unfortunately, their mind was completely destroyed, so they responded to no external stimuli whatsoever. But the final one was our first masterpiece.
Our first success was hideous. It was a frame riddled with infestation, but it stood with dignity, retaining its mind. Most significantly, however, it showed concrete abilities. It was able to command the infestation, giving it direction to attack what it wished. It was capable of sending growths out to strike at targets, somehow summoning the matter for these growths from nothing. But the most significant thing was that this brand of infestation that it commanded was only able to live for a short time, and only while it was nearby. Somehow, it had produced a non-infectious infestation that could be used exclusively for combat! Additionally, it showed some benefits from the infested body it wielded, being able to mutate and adapt if put under enough stress. The subject complained that the process was excruciating, however, so these tests were done sparingly.
With our first true success behind us, I deigned to acknowledge the tendrils’ name. Helminth. Our creation needed a name too, so we settled on Nidus. I requested that Helminth make more of Nidus’ serum, leaving to procure more of the same type of subject as the one that succeeded.
Our other attempts at replicating Nidus were mixed. Only a quarter of those that I had procured showed success, leading me to wonder if there are other requirements that the serums need from their hosts to result in a functional amalgamation. With those successes, however, we had a total of eleven Nidus units. I took the ten newest ones, deploying them in a remote area to fight the Sentients. There were very few in the area, all of them small. Through the battle, three of the Nidus units were killed, another four gravely wounded. But when the dust settled, they were victorious.
Even though we had come so far, there was an unfortunate factor that we discovered with time. None of the units we produced could retain their minds more than a couple months. After this, they either died, eventually rotting away, deactivated, somehow never dying, or went feral, beginning to attack indiscriminately. When I discussed this with Helminth, it hypothesized that the strain of all the factors combined made it impossible to keep the subjects’ minds intact for a meaningful amount of time. It suggested that further alterations to the serum could extend the functional time, but that it was questionable how effective this would be. It also suggested that if we were exceedingly lucky, some subjects may make it through with little to no impact to their mental health, though this was bordering on impossible.
However, I finally allowed myself to consider the ramifications of our research. We had finally discovered a way to effectively fight the Sentients.