Chapter Text
Madam Yukong, Helm master of the Xianzhou Luofu, piloted an Alliance supply ship around the gargantuan superstructure of Herta Station.
“Another one?” Came a bored and disinterested droning sound from one of Madam Herta’s dolls over the radio. “Eh, one of Ruan Mei’s supplies of fresh meat? I don’t know what she does in there. Just grant them docking clearance. Wherever’s nearest to the exclusion zone.”
It would be the last they’d like to hear from the highly disinterested station patroness.
A set of exterior lights guided the craft towards an older, disused portion of the station. It docked and was tethered to Herta Station with a hiss as some ancient umbilical airlock system connected to their airlock.
Her job done, Yukong eyed the pilot’s readouts with a furrowed brow.
Qingni, the helm master’s daughter, had been pilot of the previous, smaller transport that had reportedly docked with the station some weeks ago. That shuttle had not yet reported back. The crew had ventured into the quieter docks of this old section of the station and disappeared.
Now, a new crew disembarked and began to unload some requested cargo earmarked to the genius society. Yukong waited, her tail twitching. The crew had promised to retrieve ship manifests and any other clues they could regarding the whereabouts of the helm master’s daughter, and the numerous other missing Xianzhou citizens.
Minutes turned into hours which in turn became the greater part of a day. The crew of this freighter stopped by increasingly infrequently until they, too, were seemingly spirited away into the depths of this imposing station.
Yukong left the familiar confines of her cockpit, resolving to find answers for herself.
The requisite cargo had been unloaded already. Dropped off by the dockside and carted away by miniature dockyard drones. A human crew was hardly necessary for the unloading process, and yet their mysterious Genius Society patron had insisted the manned crews escort the cargo.
The halls in this deep portion of the station were quiet and dark. Yukong inched forward, bow in hand. Judging by the fine layer of dust over various consoles, this zone of the station had not been used in quite some time. Still, Yukong ventured deeper, past automatic flower cultivation chambers and incubation tubes filled with viscous liquid.
She discovered the missing freighter Qingni had been piloting in short order. It was docked in another cargo hold on the far side of the station. The airlock awaited wide open, while the interior was emptied and blanketed with white tarps. Yukong explored the barren crew holds and empty cargo holds of the old freighter. There were no signs of a struggle, but great pains had been gone to cleanse every inch of the ship. And there was still no sign of the crew at all.
Yukong backtracked towards her ship. No sooner did she make it to the docks than did she discover a fleet of robotic automatons waiting their turn to enter this second freighter.
“What are you doing?” the foxian snapped.
A robotic foreman swiveled to meet her.
“Oh? Have you not been accommodated?” it said with a shrill, synthesized grating tone.
“Where’s my crew? And what are you trying to do to my ship?”
The foreman looked to the ship, then back to Yukong.
“Refurbishment,” it said simply.
“And my crew?” Yukong kept her hand on her hip.
“Refurbishment.” The robot had a puzzled look on its metallic shell, as much as an automaton could. “Ship and crew are to be refurbished per orders from the Cultivation Department.”
“And who is responsible for this ‘Cultivation Department’?” Yukong asked.
“Fetching… fetching… buffering… Madam Ruan Mei. Located on the fifth floor of the Seclusion Zone.”
Yukong frowned. “I’ve heard tell of her. And I suppose you’re not going to let me take my ship and leave? Even without my crew…?”
“Negative.” The automaton’s voice conveyed uncharacteristic alarm. “This ship is in drydock for Refurbishment. Please see Cultivation Department Head… Ruan Mei… for more information.”
“Don’t touch my ship until I’m back.” Yukong pointed an accusatory finger.
She left for the nearest lift before the automaton could formulate a response.
“You.” Yukong scowled as she stomped down a hallway.
A forlorn-looking but beautiful genius in an immaculate dress awaited.
“Oh? Are you Madam Yukong?” This figure looked off dreamily into a frosted-over bit of glass. “Greetings, and welcome to Herta Station. Your crew has taken to my accommodations quite well.”
“What are you doing to my ship?” Yukong stepped forward. “There are others in dry dock right now. Where are their crews? Moreover, where is my daughter?”
“Hmmm?” Still not making eye contact, Ruan Mei frowned. “A Foxian… not many of those on the station. Oh. Oh, I see. Yes, I know who you speak of.”
“Where are they?” Yukong’s ears twitched.
“Ah, this zone of Herta Station has many infectious diseases,” Ruan Mei explained. “Yes, inbound ships must be fully decontaminated. The process can take some time. Worry not, the crews are well-accommodated. Why don’t you come with me?”
A circular hallway awaited. Yukong got the impression that they’d looped around once or twice. Still, not another soul had been seen since entering the station, other than this mysterious genius society member, Ruan Mei.
“Hmmm. Yes, the work we do here is essential. Volunteers are so hard to find,” Ruan Mei explained as she walked.
They passed by windows that were clouded as if with a thick layer of dust, frosty with ice, and even those that were entirely darkened on the other side. A scant few windows were mirrored facing outside, giving Yukong the uneasy sensation that she was being monitored.
In one chamber, beneath layers of reinforced glass, sat a half-dozen vials filled with viscous liquid. Floating within that liquid were bits of dissected insect wings, chitin, and one fully formed specimen.
“Is that the swarm?” Yukong took a step back from the glass.
“Oh?” Ruan Mei seemed to scarcely notice the display. “Yes. We had recreated an emanator here, not long ago. Now these specimens are all that remain.”
What kind of lab of horrors could they be running here at Herta Station? Yukong checked behind them, only to find an empty hall. She continued onward, ever more alert.
“Ah, this next lab…” Ruan began. “Hmm, yes, I’m sure you’ll recognize this.”
They passed a second exhibit. Denizens of abundance wandered around a deserted lab. Mara-struck awaited, staring into space.
“You keep agents of the Plague’s Author here?” Yukong asked, grinding her teeth.
“Indeed,” Ruan Mei said with her usual serenity. “They’re quite easy to capture and contain. Easily the most polite guests we have in this ward of the station.”
“Where are my men?” Yukong asked again.
“Being accommodated. Their every need attended to. Worry not. We’ll find them at the end of this hall,” Ruan promised.
Leaving the Abundance exhibit behind, they next approached some cracked glass covering a lab lousy with spores.
“Oh. This happens sometimes,” Ruan Mei said.
With a wave of her hand, some unseen ventilation network activated. The room was swiftly emptied of atmospheric interference, revealing a half-dozen hunched-over figures. Only, they weren’t quite human. Not anymore.
Necks sat twisted at unnatural angles. Chest cavities had been forcibly pried open, with wriggling tentacles waving out. Muscles spasmed on instinct, even as this parasite controlled all other functions of their hosts. One specimen consisted of a pair of once-human legs holding up a bloated morass of pustules. A layer of mold covered the floor and up into the walls. And along the floor, skittering between the feet of each host, were dog-sized fleshy creatures with stabbing tendrils.
“What is that?” Yukong asked.
“Ah, the parasite is by far the most virulent specimen we have at the station,” said the genius. “Incredibly hard to contain. Even a single spore can spread the infection. And every host mind increases the parasite’s ability to plan and process exponentially. We have to purge potential test subjects regularly. There’s no telling what limits there are to its intelligence.”
Yukong did not dare ask where these test subjects came from. She thought she recognized borisin fur beneath the layers of rot and mold.
“Yes, parasitism is a common adaptation out in the quieter corners of the galaxy,” Ruan said. “… now this next exhibit contains a more manageable specimen. Do keep up, Madam Yukong.”
At this fourth window, Yukong took a defensive step back as something small and melon-sized leaped onto the glass right around head-height.
Ruan Mei observed this specimen with a smile.
“Colloquially known as ‘headcrabs.’ These creatures clamp onto humanoid host’s faces and burrow into the skull, fusing with the host organism and inducing rapid mutations. It’s quite grizzly, judging by the results of what happened when specimens manage to sneak into the station at large through the vents. But worry not, these creatures do not have near the sentience nor the ability to spread as that fungal infection in exhibit three, yes?”
Yukong did not respond. She made a point of checking the overhead vents with each step.
“Ah, exhibit five ahead combines the ease of escape from exhibit four with the virulence of exhibit three.” Ruan Mei approached another laboratory window with a darkened chamber beyond.
Here, three human figures sat embedded into the wall. Bound at the limbs and buried into thick layers of tar-black chitin. The figures belonged to station scientists with badges still dangling from their uniforms. Three oval-shaped eggs sat on the floor beneath each scientist, all opened and emptied some time ago. And attached to the hapless scientist’s faces, whiplike trendil wrapped around their necks, was a fleshy spider-like creature.
“Mmm. Using a form of stasis I can arrest the development of this creature’s… life cycle indefinitely,” Ruan Mei said softly with no small amount of pride. “Left to its own devices, the results are quite messy.”
Something sleek and oblong fell from a natural crevice near the ceiling. It unfurled itself into a slender creature with a rounded head and a looping tail ending in a sharp stinger.
“Yes, the perfect organism from a lethality and longevity standpoint,” Ruan Mei said. “Infestations are not quite so tricky to eliminate as the fungus in exhibit three, but its intelligence surpasses that of any animal.”
Yukong gripped her bow.
“Where is my daughter, Miss Ruan?” she asked.
“Oh? Is something amiss?” Ruan Mei looked puzzled. “I’m so unaccustomed to getting visitors here in the seclusion zone. Worry not. I’ll lead you right to her.”
The pair walked through a door at the end of the hall. A number ‘6’ was displayed above the entrance.
“Ah, so you see, all the specimens encountered so far are virulent, near-perfect parasitic organisms,” Ruan Mei began. “Most perform quite extensive modifications to their hosts. That just won’t do. Won’t do at all.”
Yukong walked beside Ruan Mei, her ears ever on alert for threats.
“It’s so hard to find good assistants in this endeavor,” Ruan said. “Let’s see… foxians, foxians… oh, yes. Here, this room should be just what we both are looking for.”
The room within was lit only by a lone (but very intense) ceiling lamp dead center. There in a corner, back turned to the chamber’s lone door. A tell-tale fox tail shared the texture and patterns of dear Caiyi. It was most certainly Qingni, though her ears were pushed unnaturally backward.
“Qingni! It’s me. Can you hear me?” Yukong asked.
The younger foxian turned around with a stumbling gait. Rather than see her adopted daughter’s face, Yukong saw a fleshy growth covering her head, pushing her ears back, and wrapping around her neck.
"Merhto teMrho Is ahtt oyu s'rghytnEevi kadr I nca leef sefmly gnivmo tub 'anct ctrlono anhyigtn.” Qingni’s voice, muffled beyond intelligibility, sounded through the fleshy growth wrapping over her head.
Yukong took a step backward, tail on end.
“What… what is this?”
“Madam Qingni has been serving me as my premier assistant for some months,” Ruan Mei said. “Her experiment is essential in creating a more docile, more… temporary form of parasite.”
“She can be saved?” Yukong asked.
Ruan Mei’s slight smile faded. “I don’t see why not…”
Yukong took Qingni by the hand, not daring to touch the fleshy parasitic growth covering her face from brow to chin. The helm master fled the containment chamber, with Qingni stumbling in her wake.
“Oh? You haven’t seen the other specimens yet. I’m sure the rest of the crew is dying to meet you.”
The two foxians had made it about a dozen paces before other doors in laboratory six opened up. Xianzhou species of all types, all with these same fleshy parasites covering their heads, stumbled out and were upon Yukong in an instant. She dodged, only to be grabbed from behind by Qingni herself!
“Tse'her no gitonpps ti rsiytgvehe'n gviomn no sti own eewr' nrued ehr cnlootr she koot my ewcr dan enieexmeptrd no ehmt oen yb noe.” Came Qigni’s muffled cry.
A human wave quickly tackled Yukong, pinning her to the floor.
“All of you! Qingni! Surely you must be able to fight it.”
Ruan Mei emerged at a leisurely pace from Qingni’s containment chamber.
“I iterated on the aspects of test subjects four and five,” she explained nonchalantly. “Their specific forms of parasitism are… easier… to work around, yes?”
Again, the genius’ serene smile had returned. Qingni moved in her wake, holding something that wriggled in her hands.
“Hmm. Yes, do apply the specimen. Good assistant.”
Qingni approached with a fleshy parasite in her hand.
“Qingni! Qingni! Don’t. You’ve got to fight it. Qin—” Further protestation was put to a stop as the parasite molded over Yukong’s face like a death mask. Her ears were forced back at an uncomfortable angle.
Yukong’s senses were unaffected. She could feel that she was no longer being held down by the weight of dozens of her former crew. But her muscles no longer responded when she urged her arms to reach up and pry this creature off her face. And when Ruan Mei next gave the signal, Yukong’s own limbs pushed herself up off the floor without any input on her part.
Two Foxians stood, swaying unsteadily, in the middle of a lonely corridor. Ruan Mei examined each in turn.
“Hmm. Yes. Fascinating,” the genius said. “Conversion time is decreasing with each test subject. Yes. Fascinating indeed.”
Ruan Mei took some notes while the mother-daughter duo continued to stand, somewhat off-balance as their parasites hadn’t quite perfected motor controls yet.
“Hmm. Yes, temporary motor control of unwilling hosts should have practical applications.” Ruan Mei dropped her notepad. “Oh, do pick that up, will you?”
Yukong unsteadily lunched over and groped around until she found the notepad, then returned to a position not quite at attention.
“Very good,” Ruan said. “Hmmm. This should be a temporary status contingent on the parasite’s continued linkage to your nervous system. Not that I sense any desire from either of you to end this experiment. Isn’t that right?”
“Ylolu eervn egt yaaw whit shti hte unaiXhoz aelncAil will send htsero ot kolo rfo us. Stya rgntso Qnnigi elhp wlli cemo,” barked Yukong defiantly from beneath her fleshy parasite.
“Yes, yes. I will need to adapt the synethesia beacons so further linguistic research can be done. Until then.” Ruan Mei motioned down the halls. “Follow me, both of you. Do hurry. There are many new experiments to try. And another inbound freighter rife with new experiments due by week’s end.”
Ruan Mei of the Genius Society walked serenely down the halls. Her two dutiful assistants lurched haphazardly down the hall in her wake, making muffled sounds beneath their fleshy facemasks. Their tails swayed occasionally, increasingly in sync.