Brain Nerve Research Institute (3)
Level D fences doubled up, three watchtowers—ironclad security that felt excessive even for a national security facility, and this wasn't some military base. At first, I figured it was to hide gruesome human experiments, but the real reason was something else entirely.
"So that's why the Army Chief of Staff had the U.S. research team here."
The specimen in the glass tank was an unknown species. Infection twists any organism into something grotesque—teeth, claws, skeleton, muscles, nervous system, digestive tract, even genitals, all warped on a massive scale. Yet some faint trace of the original form always lingers. This thing? Utterly alien.
It had a vaguely humanoid shape, but everything—limbs, torso, neck—was unnaturally thin and elongated. At the end of its slender neck sat a small head, evoking a bipedal ostrich without feathers or beak. It carried itself with an air of dignity radiating from every inch, but its eyes twisted with bottomless hatred. And jutting from its mouth, blade-like teeth that mocked any notion of harmony.
SAMPLE 1, CODENAME KAMINO
Infection Response: Positive
Status: Deceased
Artemis read from the research logs.
"Two more specimens."
Next to it, two more tanks held equally unfamiliar lifeforms. The second evoked a cephalopod, its body a writhing mass. Unlike the intact first sample, only the brain and a bit of the upper torso remained—the face torn away. The silhouette resembled a hooded human, but instead of arms on the shoulders, four thick tentacles sprouted. The upper two ended in broad hooks, likely for swimming; the lower pair had twin sharp barbs for snaring prey. No mistaking it for anything but a marine creature.
SAMPLE 2, CODENAME MOLL
Infection Response: Positive
Status: Deceased
And the final third.
SAMPLE 3, CODENAME SENIOR
Infection Response: Positive
Status: Deceased
About two meters tall, humanoid build but lean and sharply muscled. Reverse-jointed legs, arms dangling to the ground. A cross between human and gorilla, body pitched forward—probably quadrupedal when moving. The elongated face encased in exoskeleton, crowned with horn-like protrusions, a thick black beard dangling from the jaw. Green eyes brimming with unfathomable wisdom. Even infection couldn't strip the dignity from that gaze.
"Aliens... right?"
> U.S. docs label them 'extraterrestrial origin organisms.'
Unbelievable sight. Everyone knew the Mars-orbit distress signal from that spaceship sparked the apocalypse. But details? Buried deep.
All three aliens had their skulls removed, brains exposed, hooked to various devices.
"That's why they swept up every brain scientist in Korea."
Early-stage tech, but humanity could scan memories—very limited, sure.
> Japan doing the same per memo. Allies unmentioned—but probably all in on it.
"But they're not human. And dead to boot."
Conditions mismatched way too far. Like jamming a 220V plug into a 110V socket and praying.
> Better than nothing. Even scraps of their memories could shift the war.
Desperate thrashings of the cornered. Artemis focused on data extraction next.
Rare exclamation from her. As copying progressed, she couldn't hold back.
> Found highly intriguing data.
"What kind?"
> 3 SCI-sworn ultra-secret videos.
SCI oath: mandatory for U.S. classified access. Spill as a foreigner or civilian? Life sentence.
> Playing if prepared.
I nodded. The footage that played? Ground zero for it all.
First video: pre-infection war, footage from the Mars-orbit expedition.
> Clear now.
"Coming into view," the captain said in the footage. There, halted in Mars orbit: a massive alien ship. Silhouetted against cosmic black, its majesty hit like a gut punch.
The captain led the 'Rendezvous' project to probe it.
"Launching then."
Exec in spacesuit, team boarded the shuttle and undocked.
"Visual range achieved. Ship's surface visible. Haha, folks back on Earth can't imagine this."
Their shuttle? Log canoe next to this behemoth. Scorched and battered everywhere; they docked at the largest breach.
"Hole's small. Entering on foot from here."
Screen blanked briefly, switched to first-person spacesuit cam.
"Zero-G inside. Captain, you seeing this? Inner walls covered in organic tissue everywhere."
Walls thick with dead-coral-like growths. A trailing crewman reached to touch.
"Don't touch! Nothing!"
Too late. Crunch. It crumbled to gray dust on contact.
"All dead, Captain. Desiccated."
"Dead or alive, that's not your call. Touch nothing from now on."
Exec's tone flipped—playful stroll vibe gone cold.
"Yes, sir. Sorry."
Interior footage rolled on.
"Doors everywhere, all sealed. Scattered light fixtures, none working. Power's toast."
I'm a decent engineer, but that simplest part? No clue. Artemis watched silent too.
"Found open passage. Entering."
Wide as seven abreast; soon, end in sight.
"Room ahead."
They entered a ~50 sqm chamber.
"Jesus!"
"Oh..."
"My God, what the hell?"
Flashlights swept: same everywhere.
"Bodies everywhere!"
50+ corpses strewn, varied forms, mummified dry.
"Aliens. Real ones..."
"Shouldn't we bail?"
Cams shook with panic; wherever they looked, alien dead stared back.
"Calm down."
Exec steady. "Trained for every scenario, right? This is in bounds. Not time to freak—celebrate the science."
Gutsy guy.
"Happy about that? You'll lose it over this."
Black crewman meters away—the tissue toucher.
"...!"
Exec gaped too. Screen showed a stasis pod-like glass tube, medical-capsule vibe but fully transparent. Inside: Sample 3 match. Codename Senior kin.
Mostly mechanical body—crude, messy, not advanced civ work. Flesh stubs mingled with metal; guts spilled from hydraulics in the gut. Rushed field-conversion hack job.
"Space cyborg?"
"Can we focus?"
Exec snapped, but dude shrugged.
"Positions, people. Captain, sampling per plan."
Team set mini-transporters.
"Kyaaak!"
Scream: flailing crewman, floating mini-octopus thing. Five legs. Black guy snatched it fearless; it shattered like the rest.
"Fine. Dead one."
"Fearless, eh?" Exec half-admiring, half-sick.
"That octopus..."
I knew it. Machine-hunter infected. Wrecked guard-bots at shelter startup, chopper at Terracorp.
First vid ended. Second: mothership interior.
"Decon complete. No pathogens detected."
Med officer. Background: returnees in decon, decompression.
"Knew it. Brought 'em back anyway."
Shuttle held sealed alien corpses in plastic.
> Needed results. Earth was a pressure cooker; this pops the valve.
"..."
> Not endorsing.
Cheers, toasts.
"Exec, weird though."
Beer-can black guy.
"How?"
"Multinational us vs. them—diverse species. Cosmic expo?"
Laughs. Exec shrugged whiskey.
Second ended. Third: U.S. lab, presumed.
"President?"
White-coats briefing POTUS at tank. Soldiers alert everywhere. He stroked chin, pointed—spotlight on tube. Inside: cyborg Senior. Vital signs pulsing irregular but alive.
"..."
> Glimpsed one piece of the hidden truth. Much to ponder.
"So expedition hauled aliens from the Mars-orbit ship to Earth?"
> Infected aliens.
Full classifieds analyzed, Artemis sent tidy summary to my PDA.
> 10 total recovered. 9 DOA, one survivor.
President's specimen.
"Only living one, uninfected."
> Yes.
Paradigm-shifter if not for the apocalypse.
> No dialogue. Comatose since discovery. But knows infection best—potential key.
"Tried everything to wake him. Failed."
Sole survivor comatose from find.
> Left a few words. Memo carved at stasis spot.
PDA photo pinged. Unexpected script.
"Alien hieroglyphs?"
Pyramid or cave-wall vibes.
> Emergency comms for primitive civs? Modern-to-caveman adapter jack.
Yeah, we're primitives to them.
> Top symbologists SCI-sworn worldwide cracked it.
"Result?"
> Success. Two sentences, easy structure. Earth hieroglyph parallels.
She dropped a bombshell. Got my reaction, chuckled short.
> No ancient influence. Convergent simplicity in basic scripts. Scholars agreed.
"Meaning?"
Two lines for a solar system trek? PDA glyphs parsed into text.
First sentence complete. I read aloud:
"Fight to the last man."
Second:
"Hope lives."