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Biohazard: Part 1
A Bloody Affair by LoquaciousJango

“Careful” one Ibycai reminded the other as she slid a thin glass vial out of the refrigeration unit in front of her. The one advising the other held out his gloved wings, into which the vial was gingerly placed. Across the room, another duo of researchers watched the two carefully.
All four participants were wrapped in cleansuits, their faces hidden under long, visored hoods that stretched out to cover their beaks. The one holding the vial slid it delicately into place against the side of an enclosed workspace resembling a high tech fishtank.
“Beginning controlled exposure” the faceless scientist closest to the containment unit stated, sliding his hands through a curtain of faintly glowing energy that acted as a sterilizing field. He silently unscrewed the lid of the container, dipping a small specimen wand into the vial.

The two other technicians watched him work, until one turned to the other.
“Any news from up top?” he asked.

“Like I’d know, Daiki” his compatriot answered back. “Are you really itching to find out where we pull these samples from?”

“Please don’t say ‘itching’ right now” Daiki grunted, scratching at the rubbery material of his suit in futility.

“Quiet” One of the scientist conducting the test ordered, before returning to her inaudible dictations as her colleague swabbed a reactive pad with the specimen wand.
Daiki’s friend, Min, double checked the pressure inside the quarantine hood before turning back to him. “Besides, by the time any of these things get to us, they’re barely recognizable. This could have been derived from a potato for all we know”

“That’s one deadly potato” Daiki scoffed.

“Quiet” the head researcher stated again, much more pointedly this time.

“Working in this place really kills your appetite” Daiki whispered to his friend.

“Quiet! QUIET!” The lead scientist barked. Her beak traced an arcing line across the room as she swiveled her head around, a sense of panic invading her limbs. A low hiss made itself audible in the silence. “Where’s that coming from?” she asked, agitation rising in her voice.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, Min double checked the pressure gauges on her console. “We seem green over here” she relayed, fighting the tremor of panic in her voice. Then she noticed the slight quiver on the meter attached to one of the coolant inputs, second before it plunged downwards.

“Sealant failure on the cooling system!” she announced loudly “Something must have worn down the-“
With a deafening BANG, the pipe that Daiki was leaning on blew outwards, flinging his limp body across the room and spilling fizzing blue liquid all over the floor. Min stumbled backwards as whatever fragments of the pipe that Daiki hadn’t absorbed ricocheted across the room and both other scientists dove to the floor.

“Oh god” Min gaped, scrambling away from the spreading fluid. A stinging pain, followed by a warm wet feeling manifested along her left shoulder, confirming that she had been clipped by a piece of shrapnel. The fact that she had an open gash along her wing was only slightly less troubling than the fact that her suit had been breached.

On the other side of the lab, the research assistant that had been alongside the project head picked himself off of the floor, squinting through the cracked visor of his suit. He coughed and tried to speak. Then coughed again. And again. The young man struggled to breathe, clawing at the neck seam of his suit in a panic as the lead scientist watched from the floor, where she had yet to rise from. A fizzing sound and a sensation of heat along the back of her neck made her look up at the failing containment field on the table above her, and the spilled fluid falling drop by drop on to her prone form.

“Breach Detected. Quarantine Protocols Initiated” an electronic voice rattled off as the lights overhead cut out, leaving the panicked quartet shrouded in blackness, before red emergency lights slowly faded into life, painting the whole scene in a ghastly crimson. Min clutched at her wounded wing as she made a break for the door, far too slow to make it to the threshold before the thick metal barrier slammed shut, sealing them all inside.

“Let us out!” she screamed, futilely banging on the door with her one good hand as overhead sprinklers burst to life, dousing the entire room in stinging antiseptic fluid. Min could only fling herself weakly against the door as the cut on her arm started to burn and fester, tendrils of pain snaking outwards into the rest of her body.

“Ruko, get-“ the leader struggled with her words, feeling heat and pain flow from the back of her neck down along her spine. She gasped as the sensation spread, the bits of her that hadn’t gone numb aflame with white hot agony. She ripped at the dissolved seam on the back of her neck and tore away her useless helmet, taking a ragged breath and hacking most of it back up. Her feathers fell away in clumps, revealing large, angry patches of blackened skin that seemed to pulse and grow, consuming the flesh around it.

Ruko dragged himself along the floor by his hands, past Min’s convulsing form towards the far wall, his eyes fixed on a small orange box mounted on it next to the intercom. He ignored the building pressure in his lungs, the prickling sensation in his limbs or the numbness in his gut. That box was now the only thing he could see and hear. Not the blaring alarms, not the flashing lights and certainly not the strangled cries of his colleagues.

The supervisor’s eyes clouded over like cracked glass as the inflamed tissue started to seep over her body like lava, strangling her in blistering skin. She weakly attempted to croak out a plea to the pane of tinted glass next to the sealed door before her throat closed completely and she tumbled to the floor, curling into a ball as her joints started to lock up.

Mustering all of his strength, Ruko leapt upwards and clawed at the mounted emergency aid box, successfully knocking it open and sending its contents tumbling to the floor. It only took him a moment to grab the Neon-green syringe from the pile and fumble with the cap. Next to him, Min’s motionless form started to shift, her suit starting to bloat and deform in odd places as the body within reacted violently to the chemical cocktail in the air. Ruko tensed briefly and then brought the small epi-pen down, jamming it into his torso and spasming violently.
It was at this point that the video feed mercifully cut to black.

****************************

Eckelson swallowed dryly, turning off the video link and trying to blink the images of what he just saw out of his mind. On a separate screen, his frequent client Hanuro somberly massaged her beak.
“That video was taken roughly a week ago” she said, wincing. “The lab it took place in has no security cameras. That footage was from one of my many bugs that I have planted in facilities like this one. If I remember, you installed a few of them yourself.”

“Yeah” Eckelson said, shifting uncomfortably in the seat of his craft. “But that place didn’t look familiar”

“It’s an outpost on Vennis, a fifth- generation settled planet. The installation in question is hidden just outside one of its larger cities.” The ibycai elucidated. “It’s a covert R&D branch; Nova Epsilon. Off most of the books and buried deep. It’s a place that my company doesn’t like to talk about…” She shuddered, a few of the feathers on her neck ruffling slightly. “My company. I’m working for people that create things like THAT”

Any of the kyroptian’s usual wit had fled him, leaving him silent and contemplative. Over the shared video link, he could see the usually curt and to the point ibycai struggling with her thoughts, as troubled by the video as he was, if not more so. Of course, on her end all she could see was static, a condition of his anonymity. Though times like this he wished he could just look a long-time acquaintance like her in the eye. Finally he spoke. “What did you have in mind?”

Hanuro weighed her words before speaking again. “The man next to the head scientist in that video was my cousin. Ancestors be praised, he survived relatively intact and is recovering. That emergency antibody booster saved his life. His colleagues…” She paused again. “They…ruptured shortly after that video cut off. I’ll spare you the details”

“Gracious” Kwillit responded.

“This is…beyond immoral.” The Ibycai continued “What is created down there goes beyond pointless cruelty. It is a place where atrocities are born.” A secondary screen flashed blue, indicating that she had just sent a second file. “Several of the labs are currently on lockdown after the spill and devoid of staff, but I know how to get past the outer layers. After that, you have some blueprints to guide you. I can’t do anything more. I don’t want anything from that place, I want it gone. This is a sabotage mission; burn the samples, wipe the files, take down the infrastructure if you can. Do whatever you deem necessary”

“This place looks cutting edge” Kwillit replied, his mercenary side finally kicking in. “It’ll be a tough nut to crack. I’ll need a few things…and an arson job like this isn’t cheap”

“You’ll get your pay” Hanuro answered sharply, stinging the kyroptian in an unfamiliar way. “I’ll wire you a few credits and the name of a supplier that can help you with your grocery list. I just want it done. This is a matter of family honour”

“You don’t need to tell me about family ties” Eckelson nodded. “Consider it done”

“It’s odd, but I actually trust you” Hanuro replied. “And if I want a single guarantee, it’s that you will insure that nothing they created down there sees the light of day.” She paused before adding on “Good luck”

****************************************

Hanuro’s contact was as good as her word, and Eckelson walked away from his illicit transaction with almost everything he needed. The various pouches on his belt and vest were now fully packed with a variety of new toys. And he’d need every one of them to get into this place. From what little intel Kwillit had gathered, the place he was targeting had taken several steps to avoid evidence that it even existed. For one, it was situated in the middle of nowhere, miles out from the nearest settlement. For another, it was completely subterranean, with a single visible entrance by way of a cargo dock, not as much as a dirt path leading up to it. The fact that this was the only apparent way in and out of the facility immediately disqualified it for possible entry points. The only other evidence that this place even was there at all were the occasional exhaust chimneys that dotted the surrounding landscape, occasionally firing blasts of noxious fumes and heat into the atmosphere. The occasional supply truck that ventured to and from the compound was subject to every form of security scan possible and any attempt to approach the surrounding area on foot would be impossible. Overhead, almost invisible security drones circled the sky like sleek metal vultures, bathing the flat landscape below them with infrared readouts, video footage and bio-scans. Anything larger than a desert lizard would set off alarms and be fried to a crisp. This was exactly the kind of thing Eckelson lived for.

**********************************

A Cochran by the name of Sylvio blinked away his sleepiness as he checked the technical readouts of the surveillance drone that had just landed for its weekly maintenance check. These LQ-84s were
compact and discreet, but they usually required constant upkeep. Affording a routine diagnostic was always preferable to having to pay for a replacement if one of them ever went down in flames. Sylvio looked over the scrolling wall of text at the drone nestled in its cradle, a dozen electronic eyes probing it’s surface. It resembled a large, metal bird with a dart-like nose, pointed outwards along its launching ramp towards the night sky. The technician double checked all of the readouts before finally hitting the all clear switch. The arms holding the drone in place rescinded, it’s grav thrusters immediately kicking in to keep it hovering in the same pace. Within a few seconds, the magnetic repulsor along the length of the chamber activated, flinging the drone along the takeoff path and back into the sky, where it quickly disappeared from sight. And if it weren’t for the small data splice that had been clandestinely tied into the scanning equipment, Sylvio might have been notified that drone #A47 was almost 80 pounds heavier than it was supposed to be.

Roughly a half-hour into its pre-recorded flight path, something silently detached itself from drone #A47s underbelly. The stowaway straightened out in midair, assuming an arrow-like shape as he plunged downwards, the wind ripping at his fur. He opened his mouth, sending out a few low sonic calls, painting a very narrow picture of the ground which rushed up to meet him, but minimizing risk of detection. His wings flared ever so slightly, adjusting his trajectory by a few small degrees. His target was small, and this had to be perfect. Kwillit squinted his eyes as directly below him, a plume of flame leapt out into the night air, his goggles preventing him from losing his night-vision to the sudden illumination. Eckleson punched straight through the winnowing cloud of flame directly towards it’s point of origin, the narrow exhaust pipe that rose just a few feet out of the ground, it’s opening barely wider than he was. The kyroptian gritted his teeth and held his arms in front of him in a perfect swan dive as he plunged directly into the pipe like a train into a tunnel, not even clipping the sides. Instantly surrounded by darkness, Kwillit went spread eagle, the pad-like devices on his hands and knees whirring to life with a faint blue glow. They crackled with electromagnetic energy, clinging to the walls of the pipe and radically slowing his descent. Within seconds, the friction gradually increased, bring his plunge to a slow drop, and then to a complete stop.

Eckelson hung upsidedown in the still cooling exhaust tunnel, finally affording a small exhale of breath. Even with his gasmask on, he was still practically gagging on the toxic residue that coated the circular walls around him.

“50 seconds” he said to himself as he insured that his new kneepads were firmly attached to the walls in on either side of him before disengaging his gloves. Now supported entirely by his legs, Kwillit worked quickly. One hand started to dig into one pouch on his vest while the other formed a fist, knocking on the sides of the pipe. He was rewarded with a dull thunk, then another, then finally a hollower clanging sound.

“45 seconds” he said again, bracing himself against his chosen wall with one arm and producing a small plasma cutter with his free hand. The tiny little tool had served him well over his career, and it was about to again. He brought it to bear against the curved metal surface before him, even as sweat began mingle with his fur. The metal began to redden and come apart under the small tongue of superheated gas, carving a jagged circle in the side of the rapidly heating chamber.

“20 seconds”” Eckelson gritted his teeth. The job complete, Eckelson stowed his cutter under his
chin, swiveling is legs around and planting both hands just beneath his newly carved aperture. He then disengaged his knee pads and brought is legs towards his chest, kicking off of the opposite wall and straight through the panel, dislodging it entirely and carrying him into the open space beyond.

“10” he said, not bothering to take a breath as he scrambled to his feet, placing a hand on the still cooling chunk of metal and lifting it up with the aid of his magnetic gloves. He fitted it back into position and grabbed at a small can of sealing epoxy on his belt, hurriedly going over the seam he had just cut.

“5” he had almost finished undoing the damage as a distant rumble began to grow.
“3” Almost done
“2” Almost.
“1” Eckelsons hands flew away from his task as the rumble grew into a dull roar. The epoxy quickly cured, sealing the panel back into place. The next timed burst of firey exhaust inside the pipe blew past it on the way out, a few errant wisps of flame escaping through the occasional hole in the kyroptian’s rushed patch job, but otherwise, the panel held.

Kwillit finally sighed, scanning his surroundings. He appeared to be in an elevator shaft of some kind, tubes and cables lining the walls around him.
“Hole in one” he smiled, relaxing his neck and letting the plasma cutter fall into his hands as he pulled off his gas mask. “Hard part’s over”

******************************************

Consequently, the fun part of Eckelson’s job had also taken a back seat. Caution took precedence over expedience when it came to this kind of work. Acquiring any plans for this facility beyond the first few floors proved to be an exercise in futility, so the next step was navigation. Crawling on his belly through the myriad of dusty maintenance tunnels and wriggling through the gaps in between the cables and wires that hung from the supports hidden by the polymer drop ceiling. Kwillit found himself replacing his gasmask to avoid coughing at the amount of soot and airborne flotsam he was kicking up solely through the most discreet of movements. Kwillit gave an inaudible sigh. It had been a stupid idea to take this job, there were too many variables, he should have spent more time prepping before he dove literally headfirst into this mess. He didn’t even really have an exit strategy now that he was in, relying purely on the chaos that would be created when he started yanking out wires to cover his retreat, however that would go down. But Eckelson had needed to do something aside from sit at home and ponder another tattoo. He had chosen this contract as a potent distraction, a challenge to settle his mind

Eckelson had been buffeted as of late. His usual “Do the job, get paid” approach to life had done him well over the course of his career, lately it had seemed somewhat wanting. Faces and moments danced through his mind, even as he meticulously disarmed and avoided the motion detectors and sonic sensors that impeded his progress. Haruno’s imploring gaze. That kark policeman with those bizarre little grenades. He remembered Mihjarr. The taught, straining helplessness of being a balloon that adhered to his thoughts even now. Lorainne- when had he started calling that bounty hunter Lorraine? Then he thought of the accusatory glare of Penny, his sister. He thought of her family, the life that she had managed to build on her own seemingly in defiance of Eckelson’s attempts to support her with his ill-gotten gains.

What exactly had Kwillit ever created beyond a rap sheet? What was he working towards? It certainly wasn’t a cushy retirement. He’d sooner put a bullet in his brain than ever embrace a sedentary lifestyle. But why? He felt as though he was spending his every waking moment running from something, but he couldn’t for the life of him place what it was. And he had better figure it out soon, because it was starting to get exhausting…

Eckelson shook his head, grimacing slightly at the dust that kicked up. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid. Now was the time to focus if he didn’t want to die in effing Space Prison. Maybe blowing something up would clear his head a little bit.

The diminutive interloper twitched his ears, listening intently for a familiar rumble that echoed through his chosen thoroughfare. The echo was significant in the enclosed, winding space around him, but the kyroptian’s sharp hearing was quickly able to pick out the direction of it’s source. Content with his new heading, Kwillit followed the noisy rumble until it started to pick up into a dull roar. As it grew in intensity, he folded his sensitive ears along his skull in an attempt to now block it out slightly. He finally found his hands pressed against a flat, thin wall of metal. A quick probing revealed the lip of a maintenance hatch, which his clawed fingers slipped under and flicked open. Eckelson wriggled into his new thoroughfare, replacing his respirator to avoid coating his lungs with a handful of dust with every inhalation. Generally he avoided air ducts, them being obscenely obvious for infiltration points, terribly filthy and depending on the thickness of the vent itself, capable of making someone lumbering around inside of them extremely audible. But he didn’t plan on staying here for long, focusing on the ever growing rumble ahead as his bearings as he crawled forward.

Eckelson arrived at another mesh barrier, not even bothering with subtlety as he swivelled around and kicked it free of its moorings, allowing the small screen to drop into the yawning abyss beyond it. He poked his head out into the relatively fresh air of the elevator shaft and took his first real deep breath in what felt like forever. With a bit of quick wing work, this shaft would hopefully take him right to the lowest level, and presumably Nova Epsilon’s power generators. It was time to do a little damage.

*************************

The night watchman double checked his schedule to insure that the truck bustling towards the inner checkpoint was authorized. Everything seemed to check out, a standard shipment of base metals on its way to central processing. He tapped the all clear through on his datapad and watched the hefty transport draw closer. The sizable shipping vehicle seemed to fill the ramp as it slowed it’s descent, creeping towards the thick steel doors ahead. The colossal gates squealed with friction slightly as they opened, permitting the truck access to the checkpoint, where a second set of doors waited for them. As the chamber sealed itself behind the vehicle, the security guard manning the booth within double checked his camera feeds, noticing an odd amount of static. He turned to the driver and pressed the intercom.

“Clearance codes please”

On the other side of the transparesteel booth, the driver in his cockpit held a feathered claw up to his ear and shook his head, the universal sign for impaired communications. Griping, the watchman deactivated the locks on his door and strode out to the truck to speak face to face.

“What’s the deal with your transcom?” he complained “vehicles in need of service aren’t supposed to be cleared”

“Just a little problem” the driver said nervously.

“Problem nothing. What are you carrying back there? Lemme see your tags buddy!” the ibycai shouted back. Just as he closed the distance between himself and the door to the transport, he noticed motion on the passenger side of the cabin. Before he could inquire, the figure riding shotgun had leaned forward and pointed a humming plasma rifle in his face. And before he could open his beak again, the assailant fired, reducing most of his head to carbonized particles.

“That didn’t last long” the passenger hissed, pulling out a stun gun in his other hand and pressing it to the driver’s neck. Electricity arced through him, rendering him unconscious in less than a second. Hitting the switch that would activate the doors on the cargo containers, the ibycai opened the passenger door and clambered out, circling around back to watch the large transport finish opening. Within lay a dozen or so troops, all dressed in simple black fatigues and armour like him and armed with whatever they could get their hands on.

“Alright people” the leader spoke sternly “I don’t have to remind you what we are here to do. We cannot hesitate and we will not fail. Everyone we meet from this point forward works here by choice, and that means they sanction the deeds done within these walls. They are the enemy”
Those inside started to file out, checking their weapons and steeling their minds for the damnable task ahead of them.

“Do not fear what lies beyond those doors” The ringleader continued “We are merely the logical response to the loathsome actions carried out here. You all have your jobs. This is a matter of family honour. Tonight, Nova Epsilon burns.”

***************************************

Kwillit had finished planting his demolition charges and was back in the ductwork when the radio clipped to his belt crackled to life. The communicator had been relieved from an unaware guard stationed at the generator turbines, and turned down to a barely audible whisper to avoid giving him away at an inopportune moment. The small speaker clipped to his left ear spoke of failing communications on the upper levels, and something about alarm protocol. He didn’t need to know the local jargon to translate what he was hearing as “trouble”. It was time to make a quick exit, and that meant one last stop on his way out.

The laboratories on the fourth level had no internal ventilation or other way in and out beyond the single door, so Eckelson would have to take the direct approach. The purpose of his visit was two-fold, and both were at the request of his client. First he was expected to recover the bug the Hanuro had had planted in lab 3B to avoid any chance of culpability. The second was to insure that the room where this insanity had first started would be the first to burn.

Eckelson tentatively pried open an electrical maintenance hatch from the inside, his small, narrow frame giving him just enough room to squeeze between the jumble of cables and the walls of the conduit they were housed in. Finally, he poked his head out into the hallway, double checking the lack of personnel. Intel told him that this level had been cleared and sterilized following the spill, but it never paid to be careful. With a twist of a dial, the ionic filter on Kwillit’s goggles crackled to life, illuminating the visual range of the security cameras that were spaced along the hallway as hazy cones of light that pooled on the floor. Wriggling free of the wall, the thief flattened himself against the flat grey stone. He managed to chart a swift, invisible path in between the sweep of the cameras.

The next, and simplest part of the operation was also the one that gave him the most trouble. He had to enter what was essentially a bank vault through it’s only door. If this was all some elaborate trap, this would be the time to spring it. Steeling himself and relishing the sensation of his nerves on edge, Kwillit strode in.

The room looked exactly the way it did in the video, minus the carnage. In fact, it was impeccable, which seemed somehow worse. Something unspeakable had happened here, and some entity had gone to great lengths to scour the sordid events from the scene. The room was dead, a perfectly preserved corpse without a hide out of place, save for an overturned stool that rested next to a worktable. A lone marker of the horror that had taken place. The kyroptian fought a wave of revulsion as a dozen grisly images danced through his head, intensified by his imagination. Time to do his job and go. First was the camera, easy to locate from the perspective of the video. He gave it a quick smile before unlatching the bug from the back of a supply shelf and stowing it in one of his zippered pockets. Finally, he withdrew a lone incendiary mine from his belt and placed it on the table in the centre of the room. Unlike the electromagnetic fragmentation charges that he had laid in the turbine chamber, this would be loud and nasty.

Just as Eckelson had finished setting the timer, his ears twitched at a distant rumble. A second later, a sizable quake shook the floor beneath him. Dropping to one knee, Kwillit scanned the room just as another shock hit the room, this one more intense than the last.

“Can’t be” he muttered aloud, even as alarms started to blare all around him. Through the open door, Eckelson could see the lights and security equipment start to falter, spark and violently malfunction. This was doubtless the work of his own sabotage, but something had tripped them way too early. Frantic for answers as the floor shifted beneath him, Kwillit flicked through the radio channels of his stolen communicator, stopping only when he heard a frantic voice on the other end.
“-sort of explosive device, reports of catastrophic system failure across grids A through D! Armed assailants have taken upper levels and are currently assaulting memory banks!”

In any other situation, Kwillit may have laughed. Even now he was holding back a bitter chuckle. It seemed as though his client wasn’t the only one who had wanted to see Nova Epsilon be held accountable. The odds of two separate contractors working for two separate clients meeting up on the same job were depressingly, not as slim as one would think. One way or another, this place would be rubble by morning.

The alarms grew louder as seemingly every remaining emergency system activated simultaneously. The evacuation protocol blaring from inlaid speakers. The sprinklers and fire suppressants….the door. Before he even heard the hum of servomotors, Kwillit was acting, kicking the fallen stool across the floor and praying for it’s structural integrity. The piece of furniture came to rest in the threshold just as the quarantine lock activated, the thin but strong door slamming into position. The stool crumpled slightly, but held, affording a narrow opening for a quick escape.

Eckelson brought his arms over his head and flared his wings, using them as an impromptu umbrella as the moisture from the fire system rained down on the surrounding area. As he navigated his way to the exit, the fleeing thief became increasingly aware of an odd numbness in the thin membrane his wings, and a prickling stiffness that seemed to permeate his limbs, dripping down his back. Kwillit coughed slightly, trying to locate the source of this onset malady. What he first thought was water or fire suppressant wasn’t dripping off of the tables and surfaces it hit, nor was it foaming up. It seemed to be beading on the tops and sides of the surrounding work surfaces, or collecting into larger balls of a thick, greenish looking syrup.

Eckelson coughed again as an all too familiar knot of dread began to form in his gut. This wasn’t a safety measure. This was a security protocol. He wheezed slightly, his imagination already working overtime on the hideous concoctions that a place like this would load into its own laboratory aerosol system. It was too late to seek cover or fumble with his gasmask, the toxin was already soaking into his skin and working it’s horrid magic on him. Panic gripped him as it became harder to breathe and his arms fully locked into position. Eckelson doubled over coughing and wheezing, desperately scanning the room for something he could use. His sight blurred, darkness eating at the edge of his vision. Frenzy and shock fought at his sense of logic and a burning sensation started to eat at his muscles. There wasn’t a way out. He was going to die here. Slowly and painfully, helplessly curled up on the floor. Deep underground and away from the sky.
“Sorry…Penny” he wheezed, as his eyesight faded entirely, pain rippling through his body.

Description
Biohazard: Part 1
A Bloody Affair by LoquaciousJango

“Careful” one Ibycai reminded the other as she slid a thin glass vial out of the refrigeration unit in front of her. The one advising the other held out his gloved wings, into which the vial was gingerly placed. Across the room, another duo of researchers watched the two carefully.
All four participants were wrapped in cleansuits, their faces hidden under long, visored hoods that stretched out to cover their beaks. The one holding the vial slid it delicately into place against the side of an enclosed workspace resembling a high tech fishtank.
“Beginning controlled exposure” the faceless scientist closest to the containment unit stated, sliding his hands through a curtain of faintly glowing energy that acted as a sterilizing field. He silently unscrewed the lid of the container, dipping a small specimen wand into the vial.

The two other technicians watched him work, until one turned to the other.
“Any news from up top?” he asked.

“Like I’d know, Daiki” his compatriot answered back. “Are you really itching to find out where we pull these samples from?”

“Please don’t say ‘itching’ right now” Daiki grunted, scratching at the rubbery material of his suit in futility.

“Quiet” One of the scientist conducting the test ordered, before returning to her inaudible dictations as her colleague swabbed a reactive pad with the specimen wand.
Daiki’s friend, Min, double checked the pressure inside the quarantine hood before turning back to him. “Besides, by the time any of these things get to us, they’re barely recognizable. This could have been derived from a potato for all we know”

“That’s one deadly potato” Daiki scoffed.

“Quiet” the head researcher stated again, much more pointedly this time.

“Working in this place really kills your appetite” Daiki whispered to his friend.

“Quiet! QUIET!” The lead scientist barked. Her beak traced an arcing line across the room as she swiveled her head around, a sense of panic invading her limbs. A low hiss made itself audible in the silence. “Where’s that coming from?” she asked, agitation rising in her voice.

Realizing the gravity of the situation, Min double checked the pressure gauges on her console. “We seem green over here” she relayed, fighting the tremor of panic in her voice. Then she noticed the slight quiver on the meter attached to one of the coolant inputs, second before it plunged downwards.

“Sealant failure on the cooling system!” she announced loudly “Something must have worn down the-“
With a deafening BANG, the pipe that Daiki was leaning on blew outwards, flinging his limp body across the room and spilling fizzing blue liquid all over the floor. Min stumbled backwards as whatever fragments of the pipe that Daiki hadn’t absorbed ricocheted across the room and both other scientists dove to the floor.

“Oh god” Min gaped, scrambling away from the spreading fluid. A stinging pain, followed by a warm wet feeling manifested along her left shoulder, confirming that she had been clipped by a piece of shrapnel. The fact that she had an open gash along her wing was only slightly less troubling than the fact that her suit had been breached.

On the other side of the lab, the research assistant that had been alongside the project head picked himself off of the floor, squinting through the cracked visor of his suit. He coughed and tried to speak. Then coughed again. And again. The young man struggled to breathe, clawing at the neck seam of his suit in a panic as the lead scientist watched from the floor, where she had yet to rise from. A fizzing sound and a sensation of heat along the back of her neck made her look up at the failing containment field on the table above her, and the spilled fluid falling drop by drop on to her prone form.

“Breach Detected. Quarantine Protocols Initiated” an electronic voice rattled off as the lights overhead cut out, leaving the panicked quartet shrouded in blackness, before red emergency lights slowly faded into life, painting the whole scene in a ghastly crimson. Min clutched at her wounded wing as she made a break for the door, far too slow to make it to the threshold before the thick metal barrier slammed shut, sealing them all inside.

“Let us out!” she screamed, futilely banging on the door with her one good hand as overhead sprinklers burst to life, dousing the entire room in stinging antiseptic fluid. Min could only fling herself weakly against the door as the cut on her arm started to burn and fester, tendrils of pain snaking outwards into the rest of her body.

“Ruko, get-“ the leader struggled with her words, feeling heat and pain flow from the back of her neck down along her spine. She gasped as the sensation spread, the bits of her that hadn’t gone numb aflame with white hot agony. She ripped at the dissolved seam on the back of her neck and tore away her useless helmet, taking a ragged breath and hacking most of it back up. Her feathers fell away in clumps, revealing large, angry patches of blackened skin that seemed to pulse and grow, consuming the flesh around it.

Ruko dragged himself along the floor by his hands, past Min’s convulsing form towards the far wall, his eyes fixed on a small orange box mounted on it next to the intercom. He ignored the building pressure in his lungs, the prickling sensation in his limbs or the numbness in his gut. That box was now the only thing he could see and hear. Not the blaring alarms, not the flashing lights and certainly not the strangled cries of his colleagues.

The supervisor’s eyes clouded over like cracked glass as the inflamed tissue started to seep over her body like lava, strangling her in blistering skin. She weakly attempted to croak out a plea to the pane of tinted glass next to the sealed door before her throat closed completely and she tumbled to the floor, curling into a ball as her joints started to lock up.

Mustering all of his strength, Ruko leapt upwards and clawed at the mounted emergency aid box, successfully knocking it open and sending its contents tumbling to the floor. It only took him a moment to grab the Neon-green syringe from the pile and fumble with the cap. Next to him, Min’s motionless form started to shift, her suit starting to bloat and deform in odd places as the body within reacted violently to the chemical cocktail in the air. Ruko tensed briefly and then brought the small epi-pen down, jamming it into his torso and spasming violently.
It was at this point that the video feed mercifully cut to black.

****************************

Eckelson swallowed dryly, turning off the video link and trying to blink the images of what he just saw out of his mind. On a separate screen, his frequent client Hanuro somberly massaged her beak.
“That video was taken roughly a week ago” she said, wincing. “The lab it took place in has no security cameras. That footage was from one of my many bugs that I have planted in facilities like this one. If I remember, you installed a few of them yourself.”

“Yeah” Eckelson said, shifting uncomfortably in the seat of his craft. “But that place didn’t look familiar”

“It’s an outpost on Vennis, a fifth- generation settled planet. The installation in question is hidden just outside one of its larger cities.” The ibycai elucidated. “It’s a covert R&D branch; Nova Epsilon. Off most of the books and buried deep. It’s a place that my company doesn’t like to talk about…” She shuddered, a few of the feathers on her neck ruffling slightly. “My company. I’m working for people that create things like THAT”

Any of the kyroptian’s usual wit had fled him, leaving him silent and contemplative. Over the shared video link, he could see the usually curt and to the point ibycai struggling with her thoughts, as troubled by the video as he was, if not more so. Of course, on her end all she could see was static, a condition of his anonymity. Though times like this he wished he could just look a long-time acquaintance like her in the eye. Finally he spoke. “What did you have in mind?”

Hanuro weighed her words before speaking again. “The man next to the head scientist in that video was my cousin. Ancestors be praised, he survived relatively intact and is recovering. That emergency antibody booster saved his life. His colleagues…” She paused again. “They…ruptured shortly after that video cut off. I’ll spare you the details”

“Gracious” Kwillit responded.

“This is…beyond immoral.” The Ibycai continued “What is created down there goes beyond pointless cruelty. It is a place where atrocities are born.” A secondary screen flashed blue, indicating that she had just sent a second file. “Several of the labs are currently on lockdown after the spill and devoid of staff, but I know how to get past the outer layers. After that, you have some blueprints to guide you. I can’t do anything more. I don’t want anything from that place, I want it gone. This is a sabotage mission; burn the samples, wipe the files, take down the infrastructure if you can. Do whatever you deem necessary”

“This place looks cutting edge” Kwillit replied, his mercenary side finally kicking in. “It’ll be a tough nut to crack. I’ll need a few things…and an arson job like this isn’t cheap”

“You’ll get your pay” Hanuro answered sharply, stinging the kyroptian in an unfamiliar way. “I’ll wire you a few credits and the name of a supplier that can help you with your grocery list. I just want it done. This is a matter of family honour”

“You don’t need to tell me about family ties” Eckelson nodded. “Consider it done”

“It’s odd, but I actually trust you” Hanuro replied. “And if I want a single guarantee, it’s that you will insure that nothing they created down there sees the light of day.” She paused before adding on “Good luck”

****************************************

Hanuro’s contact was as good as her word, and Eckelson walked away from his illicit transaction with almost everything he needed. The various pouches on his belt and vest were now fully packed with a variety of new toys. And he’d need every one of them to get into this place. From what little intel Kwillit had gathered, the place he was targeting had taken several steps to avoid evidence that it even existed. For one, it was situated in the middle of nowhere, miles out from the nearest settlement. For another, it was completely subterranean, with a single visible entrance by way of a cargo dock, not as much as a dirt path leading up to it. The fact that this was the only apparent way in and out of the facility immediately disqualified it for possible entry points. The only other evidence that this place even was there at all were the occasional exhaust chimneys that dotted the surrounding landscape, occasionally firing blasts of noxious fumes and heat into the atmosphere. The occasional supply truck that ventured to and from the compound was subject to every form of security scan possible and any attempt to approach the surrounding area on foot would be impossible. Overhead, almost invisible security drones circled the sky like sleek metal vultures, bathing the flat landscape below them with infrared readouts, video footage and bio-scans. Anything larger than a desert lizard would set off alarms and be fried to a crisp. This was exactly the kind of thing Eckelson lived for.

**********************************

A Cochran by the name of Sylvio blinked away his sleepiness as he checked the technical readouts of the surveillance drone that had just landed for its weekly maintenance check. These LQ-84s were
compact and discreet, but they usually required constant upkeep. Affording a routine diagnostic was always preferable to having to pay for a replacement if one of them ever went down in flames. Sylvio looked over the scrolling wall of text at the drone nestled in its cradle, a dozen electronic eyes probing it’s surface. It resembled a large, metal bird with a dart-like nose, pointed outwards along its launching ramp towards the night sky. The technician double checked all of the readouts before finally hitting the all clear switch. The arms holding the drone in place rescinded, it’s grav thrusters immediately kicking in to keep it hovering in the same pace. Within a few seconds, the magnetic repulsor along the length of the chamber activated, flinging the drone along the takeoff path and back into the sky, where it quickly disappeared from sight. And if it weren’t for the small data splice that had been clandestinely tied into the scanning equipment, Sylvio might have been notified that drone #A47 was almost 80 pounds heavier than it was supposed to be.

Roughly a half-hour into its pre-recorded flight path, something silently detached itself from drone #A47s underbelly. The stowaway straightened out in midair, assuming an arrow-like shape as he plunged downwards, the wind ripping at his fur. He opened his mouth, sending out a few low sonic calls, painting a very narrow picture of the ground which rushed up to meet him, but minimizing risk of detection. His wings flared ever so slightly, adjusting his trajectory by a few small degrees. His target was small, and this had to be perfect. Kwillit squinted his eyes as directly below him, a plume of flame leapt out into the night air, his goggles preventing him from losing his night-vision to the sudden illumination. Eckleson punched straight through the winnowing cloud of flame directly towards it’s point of origin, the narrow exhaust pipe that rose just a few feet out of the ground, it’s opening barely wider than he was. The kyroptian gritted his teeth and held his arms in front of him in a perfect swan dive as he plunged directly into the pipe like a train into a tunnel, not even clipping the sides. Instantly surrounded by darkness, Kwillit went spread eagle, the pad-like devices on his hands and knees whirring to life with a faint blue glow. They crackled with electromagnetic energy, clinging to the walls of the pipe and radically slowing his descent. Within seconds, the friction gradually increased, bring his plunge to a slow drop, and then to a complete stop.

Eckelson hung upsidedown in the still cooling exhaust tunnel, finally affording a small exhale of breath. Even with his gasmask on, he was still practically gagging on the toxic residue that coated the circular walls around him.

“50 seconds” he said to himself as he insured that his new kneepads were firmly attached to the walls in on either side of him before disengaging his gloves. Now supported entirely by his legs, Kwillit worked quickly. One hand started to dig into one pouch on his vest while the other formed a fist, knocking on the sides of the pipe. He was rewarded with a dull thunk, then another, then finally a hollower clanging sound.

“45 seconds” he said again, bracing himself against his chosen wall with one arm and producing a small plasma cutter with his free hand. The tiny little tool had served him well over his career, and it was about to again. He brought it to bear against the curved metal surface before him, even as sweat began mingle with his fur. The metal began to redden and come apart under the small tongue of superheated gas, carving a jagged circle in the side of the rapidly heating chamber.

“20 seconds”” Eckelson gritted his teeth. The job complete, Eckelson stowed his cutter under his
chin, swiveling is legs around and planting both hands just beneath his newly carved aperture. He then disengaged his knee pads and brought is legs towards his chest, kicking off of the opposite wall and straight through the panel, dislodging it entirely and carrying him into the open space beyond.

“10” he said, not bothering to take a breath as he scrambled to his feet, placing a hand on the still cooling chunk of metal and lifting it up with the aid of his magnetic gloves. He fitted it back into position and grabbed at a small can of sealing epoxy on his belt, hurriedly going over the seam he had just cut.

“5” he had almost finished undoing the damage as a distant rumble began to grow.
“3” Almost done
“2” Almost.
“1” Eckelsons hands flew away from his task as the rumble grew into a dull roar. The epoxy quickly cured, sealing the panel back into place. The next timed burst of firey exhaust inside the pipe blew past it on the way out, a few errant wisps of flame escaping through the occasional hole in the kyroptian’s rushed patch job, but otherwise, the panel held.

Kwillit finally sighed, scanning his surroundings. He appeared to be in an elevator shaft of some kind, tubes and cables lining the walls around him.
“Hole in one” he smiled, relaxing his neck and letting the plasma cutter fall into his hands as he pulled off his gas mask. “Hard part’s over”

******************************************

Consequently, the fun part of Eckelson’s job had also taken a back seat. Caution took precedence over expedience when it came to this kind of work. Acquiring any plans for this facility beyond the first few floors proved to be an exercise in futility, so the next step was navigation. Crawling on his belly through the myriad of dusty maintenance tunnels and wriggling through the gaps in between the cables and wires that hung from the supports hidden by the polymer drop ceiling. Kwillit found himself replacing his gasmask to avoid coughing at the amount of soot and airborne flotsam he was kicking up solely through the most discreet of movements. Kwillit gave an inaudible sigh. It had been a stupid idea to take this job, there were too many variables, he should have spent more time prepping before he dove literally headfirst into this mess. He didn’t even really have an exit strategy now that he was in, relying purely on the chaos that would be created when he started yanking out wires to cover his retreat, however that would go down. But Eckelson had needed to do something aside from sit at home and ponder another tattoo. He had chosen this contract as a potent distraction, a challenge to settle his mind

Eckelson had been buffeted as of late. His usual “Do the job, get paid” approach to life had done him well over the course of his career, lately it had seemed somewhat wanting. Faces and moments danced through his mind, even as he meticulously disarmed and avoided the motion detectors and sonic sensors that impeded his progress. Haruno’s imploring gaze. That kark policeman with those bizarre little grenades. He remembered Mihjarr. The taught, straining helplessness of being a balloon that adhered to his thoughts even now. Lorainne- when had he started calling that bounty hunter Lorraine? Then he thought of the accusatory glare of Penny, his sister. He thought of her family, the life that she had managed to build on her own seemingly in defiance of Eckelson’s attempts to support her with his ill-gotten gains.

What exactly had Kwillit ever created beyond a rap sheet? What was he working towards? It certainly wasn’t a cushy retirement. He’d sooner put a bullet in his brain than ever embrace a sedentary lifestyle. But why? He felt as though he was spending his every waking moment running from something, but he couldn’t for the life of him place what it was. And he had better figure it out soon, because it was starting to get exhausting…

Eckelson shook his head, grimacing slightly at the dust that kicked up. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid. Now was the time to focus if he didn’t want to die in effing Space Prison. Maybe blowing something up would clear his head a little bit.

The diminutive interloper twitched his ears, listening intently for a familiar rumble that echoed through his chosen thoroughfare. The echo was significant in the enclosed, winding space around him, but the kyroptian’s sharp hearing was quickly able to pick out the direction of it’s source. Content with his new heading, Kwillit followed the noisy rumble until it started to pick up into a dull roar. As it grew in intensity, he folded his sensitive ears along his skull in an attempt to now block it out slightly. He finally found his hands pressed against a flat, thin wall of metal. A quick probing revealed the lip of a maintenance hatch, which his clawed fingers slipped under and flicked open. Eckelson wriggled into his new thoroughfare, replacing his respirator to avoid coating his lungs with a handful of dust with every inhalation. Generally he avoided air ducts, them being obscenely obvious for infiltration points, terribly filthy and depending on the thickness of the vent itself, capable of making someone lumbering around inside of them extremely audible. But he didn’t plan on staying here for long, focusing on the ever growing rumble ahead as his bearings as he crawled forward.

Eckelson arrived at another mesh barrier, not even bothering with subtlety as he swivelled around and kicked it free of its moorings, allowing the small screen to drop into the yawning abyss beyond it. He poked his head out into the relatively fresh air of the elevator shaft and took his first real deep breath in what felt like forever. With a bit of quick wing work, this shaft would hopefully take him right to the lowest level, and presumably Nova Epsilon’s power generators. It was time to do a little damage.

*************************

The night watchman double checked his schedule to insure that the truck bustling towards the inner checkpoint was authorized. Everything seemed to check out, a standard shipment of base metals on its way to central processing. He tapped the all clear through on his datapad and watched the hefty transport draw closer. The sizable shipping vehicle seemed to fill the ramp as it slowed it’s descent, creeping towards the thick steel doors ahead. The colossal gates squealed with friction slightly as they opened, permitting the truck access to the checkpoint, where a second set of doors waited for them. As the chamber sealed itself behind the vehicle, the security guard manning the booth within double checked his camera feeds, noticing an odd amount of static. He turned to the driver and pressed the intercom.

“Clearance codes please”

On the other side of the transparesteel booth, the driver in his cockpit held a feathered claw up to his ear and shook his head, the universal sign for impaired communications. Griping, the watchman deactivated the locks on his door and strode out to the truck to speak face to face.

“What’s the deal with your transcom?” he complained “vehicles in need of service aren’t supposed to be cleared”

“Just a little problem” the driver said nervously.

“Problem nothing. What are you carrying back there? Lemme see your tags buddy!” the ibycai shouted back. Just as he closed the distance between himself and the door to the transport, he noticed motion on the passenger side of the cabin. Before he could inquire, the figure riding shotgun had leaned forward and pointed a humming plasma rifle in his face. And before he could open his beak again, the assailant fired, reducing most of his head to carbonized particles.

“That didn’t last long” the passenger hissed, pulling out a stun gun in his other hand and pressing it to the driver’s neck. Electricity arced through him, rendering him unconscious in less than a second. Hitting the switch that would activate the doors on the cargo containers, the ibycai opened the passenger door and clambered out, circling around back to watch the large transport finish opening. Within lay a dozen or so troops, all dressed in simple black fatigues and armour like him and armed with whatever they could get their hands on.

“Alright people” the leader spoke sternly “I don’t have to remind you what we are here to do. We cannot hesitate and we will not fail. Everyone we meet from this point forward works here by choice, and that means they sanction the deeds done within these walls. They are the enemy”
Those inside started to file out, checking their weapons and steeling their minds for the damnable task ahead of them.

“Do not fear what lies beyond those doors” The ringleader continued “We are merely the logical response to the loathsome actions carried out here. You all have your jobs. This is a matter of family honour. Tonight, Nova Epsilon burns.”

***************************************

Kwillit had finished planting his demolition charges and was back in the ductwork when the radio clipped to his belt crackled to life. The communicator had been relieved from an unaware guard stationed at the generator turbines, and turned down to a barely audible whisper to avoid giving him away at an inopportune moment. The small speaker clipped to his left ear spoke of failing communications on the upper levels, and something about alarm protocol. He didn’t need to know the local jargon to translate what he was hearing as “trouble”. It was time to make a quick exit, and that meant one last stop on his way out.

The laboratories on the fourth level had no internal ventilation or other way in and out beyond the single door, so Eckelson would have to take the direct approach. The purpose of his visit was two-fold, and both were at the request of his client. First he was expected to recover the bug the Hanuro had had planted in lab 3B to avoid any chance of culpability. The second was to insure that the room where this insanity had first started would be the first to burn.

Eckelson tentatively pried open an electrical maintenance hatch from the inside, his small, narrow frame giving him just enough room to squeeze between the jumble of cables and the walls of the conduit they were housed in. Finally, he poked his head out into the hallway, double checking the lack of personnel. Intel told him that this level had been cleared and sterilized following the spill, but it never paid to be careful. With a twist of a dial, the ionic filter on Kwillit’s goggles crackled to life, illuminating the visual range of the security cameras that were spaced along the hallway as hazy cones of light that pooled on the floor. Wriggling free of the wall, the thief flattened himself against the flat grey stone. He managed to chart a swift, invisible path in between the sweep of the cameras.

The next, and simplest part of the operation was also the one that gave him the most trouble. He had to enter what was essentially a bank vault through it’s only door. If this was all some elaborate trap, this would be the time to spring it. Steeling himself and relishing the sensation of his nerves on edge, Kwillit strode in.

The room looked exactly the way it did in the video, minus the carnage. In fact, it was impeccable, which seemed somehow worse. Something unspeakable had happened here, and some entity had gone to great lengths to scour the sordid events from the scene. The room was dead, a perfectly preserved corpse without a hide out of place, save for an overturned stool that rested next to a worktable. A lone marker of the horror that had taken place. The kyroptian fought a wave of revulsion as a dozen grisly images danced through his head, intensified by his imagination. Time to do his job and go. First was the camera, easy to locate from the perspective of the video. He gave it a quick smile before unlatching the bug from the back of a supply shelf and stowing it in one of his zippered pockets. Finally, he withdrew a lone incendiary mine from his belt and placed it on the table in the centre of the room. Unlike the electromagnetic fragmentation charges that he had laid in the turbine chamber, this would be loud and nasty.

Just as Eckelson had finished setting the timer, his ears twitched at a distant rumble. A second later, a sizable quake shook the floor beneath him. Dropping to one knee, Kwillit scanned the room just as another shock hit the room, this one more intense than the last.

“Can’t be” he muttered aloud, even as alarms started to blare all around him. Through the open door, Eckelson could see the lights and security equipment start to falter, spark and violently malfunction. This was doubtless the work of his own sabotage, but something had tripped them way too early. Frantic for answers as the floor shifted beneath him, Kwillit flicked through the radio channels of his stolen communicator, stopping only when he heard a frantic voice on the other end.
“-sort of explosive device, reports of catastrophic system failure across grids A through D! Armed assailants have taken upper levels and are currently assaulting memory banks!”

In any other situation, Kwillit may have laughed. Even now he was holding back a bitter chuckle. It seemed as though his client wasn’t the only one who had wanted to see Nova Epsilon be held accountable. The odds of two separate contractors working for two separate clients meeting up on the same job were depressingly, not as slim as one would think. One way or another, this place would be rubble by morning.

The alarms grew louder as seemingly every remaining emergency system activated simultaneously. The evacuation protocol blaring from inlaid speakers. The sprinklers and fire suppressants….the door. Before he even heard the hum of servomotors, Kwillit was acting, kicking the fallen stool across the floor and praying for it’s structural integrity. The piece of furniture came to rest in the threshold just as the quarantine lock activated, the thin but strong door slamming into position. The stool crumpled slightly, but held, affording a narrow opening for a quick escape.

Eckelson brought his arms over his head and flared his wings, using them as an impromptu umbrella as the moisture from the fire system rained down on the surrounding area. As he navigated his way to the exit, the fleeing thief became increasingly aware of an odd numbness in the thin membrane his wings, and a prickling stiffness that seemed to permeate his limbs, dripping down his back. Kwillit coughed slightly, trying to locate the source of this onset malady. What he first thought was water or fire suppressant wasn’t dripping off of the tables and surfaces it hit, nor was it foaming up. It seemed to be beading on the tops and sides of the surrounding work surfaces, or collecting into larger balls of a thick, greenish looking syrup.

Eckelson coughed again as an all too familiar knot of dread began to form in his gut. This wasn’t a safety measure. This was a security protocol. He wheezed slightly, his imagination already working overtime on the hideous concoctions that a place like this would load into its own laboratory aerosol system. It was too late to seek cover or fumble with his gasmask, the toxin was already soaking into his skin and working it’s horrid magic on him. Panic gripped him as it became harder to breathe and his arms fully locked into position. Eckelson doubled over coughing and wheezing, desperately scanning the room for something he could use. His sight blurred, darkness eating at the edge of his vision. Frenzy and shock fought at his sense of logic and a burning sensation started to eat at his muscles. There wasn’t a way out. He was going to die here. Slowly and painfully, helplessly curled up on the floor. Deep underground and away from the sky.
“Sorry…Penny” he wheezed, as his eyesight faded entirely, pain rippling through his body.