85: Chapter 85 Operation Termites II: Internal Reconnaissance

When the clicking sound faded, No. 4 was still missing three finger bones on its right hand.

Yan Zheng did not let it stop.

The door was pushed open, and the yellow light from the corridor spilled into the warehouse, first landing on the wheel tracks on the floor, then climbing onto the corners of the first row of metal crates.

The patrolman stood at the doorway, wearing a dark blue tactical uniform, with a stun baton hanging at his waist, a flashlight in his hand, and a rifle slung across his chest.

The flashlight beam swept from the left shelf to the right, the beam appearing white with pale yellow edges, reflecting short, bright spots as it grazed the metal crates.

The temperature in the warehouse was on the low side, and the humidity was higher than in the corridor; the corners of the cardboard boxes were soft, and the surfaces of the metal crates were covered with condensation.

The patrolman's boots stepped inside; the sound came from the doorway, dull and close, with a slow rhythm. The warehouse space was small, and the echoes bounced off the crates.

Yan Zheng: ( ꐦ ㅍ _ ㅍ )

"Don't move."

"No. 4, continue the reorganization."

Five seconds left.

The skull closed.

The shoulder blades clicked back into place.

The three finger bones of the right hand slid back from the shadows at the bottom of the crate to the metacarpals.

The patrolman walked to the first row of shelves, his flashlight sweeping over the crate numbers.

"B12."

"B13."

"B14."

He reported the numbers into his walkie-talkie.

"Warehouse is all normal."

Static crackled from the walkie-talkie.

"Check the freezer lines."

The patrolman cursed and turned to walk toward the small freezer in the corner.

His back was exposed to No. 4.

No. 4 crouched behind two rows of crates, knees drawn up, spine hunched, its phosphorous fire dimmed to the lowest level.

Through its perspective, Yan Zheng saw the access card at the patrolman's waist.

White face.

Blue border.

Card number, E.S.S-RK-17.

Yan Zheng: ( ˵ ꐦ ✧ ‸ ✧ ˵ )

"Good stuff."

"No. 4, remember this card."

"Don't take it now."

"It's safer for him to walk out alive than to fall here."

The patrolman checked the freezer power supply, and the flashlight beam drifted away from the stack of crates.

No. 4 remained completely still.

Yan Zheng pushed No. 5 into the pipe junction, to the right.

No. 6 also crawled into the drain.

Three Mental Links operated simultaneously. Yan Zheng's back was pressed against the concrete pillar under the loading platform, dampness creeping in through his collar, his shoulders cramped by the narrow space, and the muscles on the side of his neck aching slightly.

He bit into the second energy bar; the dry powder clung to his tongue, the sweetness dull, and the aftertaste in his throat astringent.

"It's so bad it's refreshing."

"The manufacturer should pay me a mission subsidy."

The patrolman left the warehouse.

The door closed.

The footsteps faded away.

Yan Zheng waited for seven seconds.

"No. 4, move. Under the door crack, to the corridor. Check the signs first."

No. 4 moved along the stack of crates, its bony feet making no sound as they touched the floor. It hooked its fingers into the gap at the bottom of the door and pulled it open slightly.

The corridor's overhead lights were on, the walls were grayish-white, and the floor was covered with anti-slip rubber. There was a camera on the left and a conduit channel on the right.

Internal zone signs hung on the wall.

B1, Storage Area.

Downward arrow, Experimental Area.

Another downward arrow, Sample Storage and Isolation Area.

Yan Zheng: ( ꐦ Ծ ꈊ Ծ )

"First basement level, storage and equipment."

"Second basement level, laboratory."

"Third basement level, samples and detention."

"Thanks to the gentlemen at E.S.S for their love of signage management."

No. 5 entered another room through the air vent. Old equipment was piled there, and the air smelled more heavily of oil.

No. 5 reorganized in the corner, the process going smoothly.

No. 6 arrived at the shaft three minutes later and slid into a maintenance mezzanine; the space was narrower, but it led to the cable shaft.

Yan Zheng dispatched the three Skeleton Soldiers along separate lines.

"No. 4, take the main corridor and check the personnel in the Storage Area."

"No. 5, go down the stairs and find the Experimental Area."

"No. 6, follow the cable shaft and find the power distribution and communications."

"Gentlemen, don't be in such a rush to show off."

"Tonight is about professional conduct."

No. 4 walked to the end of the corridor and poked half its skull out from against the wall.

There were two security guards in the guard room. One was sitting and watching the monitors, while the other was leaning back in his chair, dozing off.

On the table were coffee, a burger, and half a pack of cigarettes.

The monitor screen was divided into twelve grids; four showed the surface factory area, three showed the underground corridors, and the remaining grids showed the warehouse and the truck passage.

Yan Zheng noted the screen layout.

"There are at least four security guards on duty."

"Two on the first basement level."

"The other two should be patrolling the truck passage or the experimental level."

No. 5 went down to the second basement level. There was access control in the stairwell. The gap under the door was very narrow, so No. 5 detached a finger bone and slid it under the door to scout the environment first.

The light behind the door was brighter. The smell of disinfectant, the fishy stench of processed blood, and the scent of medicine were mixed together.

Yan Zheng's nasal cavity was assaulted by the smells coming through the Mental Link, and he furrowed his brow.

Yan Zheng: ( ˵ ꐦ ≖ ω ≖ ˵ )

"Weapon X leftovers, the hygiene standards are actually on point."

"It's just lacking a human touch."

No. 5 disassembled into a stealth mode to pass through the door gap, then reorganized in the corner.

There were glass rooms on both sides of the Experimental Area corridor. The first room contained a centrifuge, freezers, and microscopic equipment.

The second room contained an operating table with dark stains remaining on the restraint straps, and a cart nearby held stun clamps and syringes.

The third room's door was half-open. No. 5 stopped by the door. Yan Zheng looked inside through its perspective.

Six transparent culture tanks were lined up in a row. The liquid was pale yellow, and bubbles rose slowly from the bottom.

Inside each culture tank, a humanoid biological entity was submerged.

One had scales on its back, and its arms were a segment longer than a normal person's.

One had a protruding chest cavity with everted ribs, secured by metal rings.

One had sensors attached to its head, with large patches of bruising under its skin.

There were three others that were smaller, their limb proportions modified to be uncoordinated.

Two researchers in white coats stood beside the culture tanks. They were recording data. One of them spoke.

"Sample No. 2's reaction is dropping."

"Increase the dosage."

"The higher-ups want transplantable tissue, not an autopsy report."

The other person looked down and flipped through a chart.

"Increasing it to three times the dose will kill it."

"If it dies, slice it up, freeze it, and file it by number."

Yan Zheng: ( ꐦ ✧ ᴗ ✧ )

"Very good."

"This bunch of people have already cremated their professional ethics in advance."

"Six researchers, I'll add them to the tab."

He did not let No. 5 go inside. There might be biological monitoring in the laboratory. He only had No. 5 continue moving along the outer wall.

No. 6 crawled in the cable shaft. The wires were dense, the pipes were hot, the air was dry, and dust clung to the surface of its bones.

It found the power distribution room. The door was closed, but the ventilation duct was wide enough. No. 6 disassembled itself to enter, then reassembled half of its skeleton.

The room contained the main power distribution cabinet, a backup power switch box, and a communications relay cabinet. There were labels on the cabinets. Main Power. Emergency. Cold Chain Independent Line. External Communications.

When Yan Zheng saw the Cold Chain Independent Line, his gaze paused for half a second.

"Don't touch the cold chain."

"Main power, communications, monitoring."

"The staging points for the skeleton bombs have been found."

No. 4 continued its reconnaissance. It walked from the Storage Area to above the truck passage and saw two security guards inspecting a white van.

There was a gurney secured inside the van. The restraint straps showed signs of use. An anesthesia gun and stun nets hung on the wall.

One security guard held a checklist.

"No outbound shipments tonight?"

"The Commander says the sample's wavelength is unstable, waiting for the technical team to confirm."

"That X series?"

"Don't ask."

Yan Zheng crouched outside, tapping his fingertips on his knees twice.

Yan Zheng: ( ˵ ꐦ Ծ ꒳ Ծ ˵ )

"The X series is still here."

"Wavelength unstable."

"Mr. Fury, you really know how to hand over the knife."

No. 5 went around to the end of the Experimental Area and discovered an office. The door sign read: Supervisor's Office.

Inside sat a middle-aged man wearing a white shirt under a bulletproof vest; there were paper files on the desk, and a structural map of the underground Red Hook District hung on the wall.

He was on the phone.

"I don't care what arrangements Paterson has made."

"X-23-07's activity is dropping too fast; we must complete the secondary stabilization tonight."

"If stabilization fails, excise the bone marrow tissue and transfer it to cryogenic storage."

Something was said on the other end of the line. The middle-aged man slammed his pen onto the desk.

"The client wants full activity, not frozen meat."

"Give me two hours."

A glint of light reflected off the edge of Yan Zheng's gold-rimmed glasses.

Yan Zheng: ( ꐦ ⌓ ꐦ )

"Two hours."

"Then we can't wait until 4:15."

In the direction of the third basement level, No. 5's perception caught a sound. Very faint. Human voices. Coming from below the stairs.

Groans were intermittent and hollow; through the door, the sense of space extended downward, as if climbing up from a deep well. There was also the sound of metal chains gently rattling.

A living prisoner.

Yan Zheng did not immediately let No. 5 go down. He first recalibrated the positions of the three Skeleton Soldiers.

"No. 4, keep watch on the guard room and the truck passage."

"No. 5, keep an eye on the Supervisor's Office and the Experimental Area stairs."

"No. 6, prepare the skeleton bombs."

"Don't touch the third basement level yet."

"That's the final shelf."

"Before we open the shelf, we'll smash the checkout counter first."

He unzipped his canvas bag and took out a folding scalpel; the blade glinted in the dim light.

"Operation Termite enters the second phase."

"Deploy."