Parasitism (2)
The District General Security Team.
It was the supreme security organ of the T&C Special Trade Hub, overseeing not only the police stations and district security teams stationed in every district, but even the crisis management units garrisoned in the Administrative District.
On an ordinary day the place would have been far from busy, but with the Board of Directors Meeting barely a month away, the entire floor was in a frenzy.
"What's the status on the Star Union terrorists? When is that interrogation report coming in?"
"Which idiot processed Edgerton's fleet stationing request?! You file reports like this?"
"Entertainment District Security Team — assemble in Conference Room 5, all of you!"
Documents flew back and forth across the room as uniformed security personnel scurried from post to post.
The only quiet place amid the uproar was Conference Room 4.
The detective team under the Harbor District Security Team was drawing up plans to round up every criminal they had been tracking, all at once, before the Board of Directors Meeting convened. General Manager Lyla Chamberlain had issued a strict directive to the District General Security Team: strip the city of every last threat.
"What's the situation with this Broker S?"
"He suspended smuggling after the Board announcement, but his activity suddenly surged this month. We've confirmed six separate smuggling operations over the past week. In effect, he's smuggling every single night."
"His activity picks up out of nowhere, right at this moment? That's odd."
Detective Team Leader William tilted his head at his subordinate's briefing.
Broker S was a man the detective team had been sharpening their knives for over the past six months. They had secured the evidence long ago, but the man had bought so many favors with the credits he'd slipped to the higher-ups that interference kept stalling the arrest, and in the end the operation had failed.
Since then they had kept him under surveillance, and with the Board Meeting approaching, an opportunity to arrest him properly had finally arrived. However corrupt the officials might be, not even they could defy a direct order from a Noble Capital lord who ruled this space city with absolute authority.
"No change in his smuggling methods?"
"That's what's peculiar, sir. He mainly handled interplanetary smuggling relays, but all six recent operations were conducted against targets inside the city."
"Could it just be because surveillance is so tight right now?"
"No. Trading within the city offers no real profit. Broker S is a careful man. Would someone who squeezes maximum returns out of minimal deals do something like that?"
An arrest opportunity had finally landed in their laps, and the man was walking straight into it, wide open. William should have been pleased, but something about it nagged at him.
"The trading partner should be identifiable, then. Who is it?"
"That's the thing — it's someone new, a face he's never traded with before."
"A new face?"
"We only spotted him three days ago. A man who moves around in pajamas. He's damn near a ghost. He never shows up on camera. Not once."
"We can't confirm whether he came from the Spacedogs, but he appears to have received professional training. We've tried tailing him several times and lost him every single time."
Broker S alone was already a headache, and now a new criminal of no small skill had appeared. William let out a low groan.
Considering the goods S had moved over the years, it was hardly surprising that the Spacedogs had cast covetous eyes on him. A man of S's talent could perform the miracle of turning money into more money, over and over.
But William refused to jump to conclusions.
Right now, of all times? This isn't like S.
There had to be a reason a man as cautious as S was acting this recklessly. William organized his thoughts, then gave his orders.
"The boys who tailed the pajama guy — get a composite sketch done and send it to surveillance for analysis. Contact the Harbor District and find out when he entered the city. And keep a close eye on Broker S's movements. There's no telling — the Spacedogs might try to make contact with him directly."
"Yes, sir!"
"Dismissed."
When the meeting ended and his subordinates filed out, William stayed in his seat. Resting his chin on one arm, lost in thought, he picked up his communicator.
Contacting a friend for a favor is traceable, but still.
An old comrade from the same unit, now retired and working private security. William knew exactly who the man was currently protecting.
He's guarding Broker S.
William left him a message.
10:55 PM. It's about time.
I was waiting for Sander together with No. 26.
Our meeting spot lay near the boundary between the Commercial District and the Harbor District. Unlike the Entertainment District, every shop here shuttered its doors at nine in the evening, so hardly anyone passed through.
It's close to the secret passage, too.
It wasn't as if there were no cameras here at all, but compared to the cargo yard, where they were practically carpeted across every surface, moving around was far easier.
Not that that's the only reason I moved the spot.
The real reason was the watchers.
Three days ago, I had met Sander near the cargo yard cranes wearing the face of the neighbor from the apartment next door. Nothing had gone wrong that day, but I sensed observers watching us from a distance.
Sander, bound to me through the parasite, was incapable of resistance. The watchers would be the police who had been hunting him all this time. If they caught us together, it would spell trouble for me as well — so I changed the time and place.
Eleven o'clock at night, at the boundary between the Commercial District and the Harbor District.
Sander had voiced his objections when I moved the rendezvous point, but it was meaningless defiance. The only thing he was capable of anymore was obeying me.
There he is.
Speak of the devil — a black-painted refrigerated truck was rolling toward the meeting spot.
The truck halted, and Sander climbed down, wiping sweat from his brow.
It had been a full week since he first offered me confiscated creatures.
His face had changed beyond recognition. He was so gaunt I would have believed him if he'd said two-thirds of his body weight had simply vanished.
The cause of Sander's ruination was the parasite lodged in his brain.
When implanting parasites into another creature through the Parasitic Colony, the degree of restraint imposed on the host could be set by stage. Stage one was the weakest level of control; stage five, the absolute strongest.
The parasite inside Sander was stage four — a level at which the parasite clamps down the instant the host shows even the faintest flicker of resistance.
Because of that command, he would be tormented by the parasite while eating, while sleeping, while working.
Obey me. Do not defy my will.
Even in the game, there was a message when you got infected by a parasite.
I learned that from a video posted by a player who had fallen victim to my parasites. Once infected, a message popped up every time the player performed a certain action. That alone wouldn't be so bad, but each time the message appeared, a fixed amount of health drained away. So players who couldn't remove the parasite with other equipment or traits usually just killed themselves. Suicide erased the parasite's effect along with them.
But this is reality. Suicide isn't an option here.
There was nothing for it but to endure the pain.
I stepped out of the alley near the meeting spot and revealed myself before Sander.
Though he had seen me several times by now, he still hadn't adjusted — he swallowed hard the moment his eyes found me.
But he quickly dropped to his knees and bowed his head to the ground.
"...I've brought the items you asked for, so please..."
I frightened him, of course — but the thing in his head frightened him more. In twenty-four hours, he would die along with the parasite anyway.
There's still some time left.
I brought my hand close to his head and activated the Parasitic Colony.
"Uuughhh..."
Sander's eyes rolled back and his mouth hung open. Then the parasite slithered out of his nostril. Once free, it shuddered once, convulsively — and died on the spot.
Good work.
In place of the dead parasite, a new one emerged from the opening in my palm. It entered Sander's body exactly as its predecessor had.
"H-hurk!"
A moment later Sander came back to himself and coughed violently. He saw the parasite sprawled across his knees, and shook it off with a full-body shudder of revulsion.
I watched him squirm in disgust for a moment, until he cleared his throat once and held out a document.
"...Ahem. Here's the creature manifest."
I took the document from Sander with my combat arm to examine it closely.
"......"
The sight of an invisible arm plucking the paper away made Sander flinch and shrink back.
[Zzzt zzzzzzt zzt (Am I really that frightening?)]
｢Big Baby is cute.｣
[Zzzzt (Thank you)]
｢Mm.｣
I stroked No. 26, perched on my shoulder, in silent thanks, then turned the pages.
Plant Lizards and a Fairywing today.
Plant Lizards resembled a Stegosaurus in appearance, but they weren't actually dinosaurs — they were classified as plant-type organisms. They were also the species that carried Tenacious Vitality, the second trait I had ever acquired, as their natural trait.
Five Plant Lizards. Not a bad haul.
Plant Lizards were massive creatures, so hauling more than a few in a single truck wouldn't be easy. Eight was probably the limit for a vehicle that size.
Next up — one Fairywing.
The Fairywing was a carnivorous bird-like creature about the size of a human palm, eyeless, resembling a blue crow with hooked fangs. People called them flying piranhas.
Hm? A mutant?
A mutant Fairywing? I'd never seen one in the game.
My interest was piqued, but unfortunately, being a mutant, there was only the one. If there had been a whole flock, the Genetic Essence would have been worth aiming for — but a single specimen probably wasn't enough.
When I finished reviewing the manifest and pointed a fingertip at the truck, Sander hurriedly pulled out his terminal.
"I-I'll open it for you."
He worked the wireless terminal linked to the truck, and the cargo hold rumbled open with a mechanical groan.
｢It's cold.｣
[Zzzzt zzt (Want to stay here?)]
｢No. Thinking of home makes me feel good.｣
Come to think of it, Sea Demons lived in the deep sea, so a little chill like this probably meant nothing to her. Sander — whether from the refrigeration unit inside the hold or from sheer terror of me — shivered and backed away.
"Th-then I'll wait out here."
I left him where he stood and climbed into the truck's cargo hold.
Inside the alloy cage, five Plant Lizards lay sprawled under anesthesia. I bent the bars aside with a light squeeze and stepped in.
"Ah, I was supposed to open the cage for... no. I suppose there's no need, is there."
Sander started to say something, then fell silent as he watched my inhuman strength at work.
Kill first, then eat.
One by one, I snapped the Plant Lizards' necks.
Halfway through, one whose anesthesia hadn't fully taken lashed at me with its spike-studded tail, but piercing my outer hide was beyond it. My combat arm crushed its skull and it died.
With their throats stilled, I tasted the flesh of the great plant-type beasts.
...Tastes like it's good for you.
By lore, the Amorph was omnivorous, but apparently closer to a carnivore's omnivore. The Plant Lizard's meat tasted like green vegetable juice — honestly, not to my taste.
｢Is it tasty?｣
[Zzt (No)]
｢Big Baby needs to get bigger, so eat it all up.｣
No. 26 was right. I still had to evolve further, which meant I had to eat every last scrap of even this.
I forced it all down, gulp by nauseating gulp — but no Predation Effect triggered from any of them.
Tch. A shame. I'll have to pin my hopes on the next batch.
According to the manifest the cyborg Lars had left behind, there were thirty Plant Lizards in total. Twenty-five remained — surely something would drop among them.
A palate cleanser, then — the mutant Fairywing.
It was avian, so it might taste like chicken. With that hope, I opened the freezer compartment.
The moment I looked inside, I froze.
｢What's wrong?｣
......
No. 26 asked what was wrong, but I couldn't answer.
Blue skin. A body like a reptile's.
Tiny wings on its back. Horns on its head.
And in place of a mouth, a long bundle of tentacles.
That's a Galagon.
What lay in that freezer was no Fairywing.
It was a hatchling of the Galagon — the Dragons of Space. A Blue Galagon.