The alien transmission was a lifeline and a conundrum. They had given him a weapon—the location of the hive mind. But they had also demonstrated an unsettling level of knowledge. How could they possibly see inside his ship?
"Mother, is this possible? Can they scan through the hull?"
"Standard sensor technology could not achieve this level of resolution. Their capabilities are clearly far beyond our initial understanding. The bio-organic nature of their technology may operate on principles we do not comprehend."
It was a reminder that the beings below were not just aliens; they were advanced in ways that felt almost magical. Their help was invaluable, but accepting it felt like stepping into the unknown.
The water crisis was the immediate problem. The loss of the main reservoir meant rationing was immediate and severe. But the alien map presented an opportunity: a decisive strike.
"If we can destroy the core, would the rest of the Xylophage die?"
"According to Valerius's notes and the biological telemetry I am now able to isolate, the core acts as a central processing node. Destroying it would likely cause the remaining organisms to revert to a feral, uncoordinated state. They would still be dangerous, but manageable. It would break the siege."
It was a gamble. The core would be heavily defended. But it was a chance to go from defense to offense.
"How do we get there? The bunker Valerius mentioned is deep in the contaminated zones."
"The alien map indicates a path. A maintenance conduit, unused for centuries, that runs from a clean sector directly to a service hatch above the primary bio-lab. It appears to be clear."
"Appears' isn't good enough."
"My sensors cannot penetrate the conduit. It is a blind spot. The information comes solely from the alien transmission."
He would have to trust them. The same beings who could map his ship from the planet's surface. It was a terrifying leap. But the alternative was a slow death by thirst or a final, overwhelming breach by the Xylophage.
"Okay. We do it. But we do it smart. I'm not going in with just a pistol." His eyes fell on the ship's schematic, on the icon for the security armory. "I need better weapons. And I need a plan for the core. What can destroy it?"
"The core is a concentrated biomass. A high-yield thermal grenade or a focused plasma charge would be sufficient. The armory has such devices."
The armory was on a secure deck, one that had been locked down by Valerius's codes. But his Steward authority could open it.
The armory was a fortress within the fortress. When the doors hissed open, Kaelen felt a shiver of awe and dread. Racks of pulse rifles, plasma casters, and grenade launners lined the walls. In the center, behind a reinforced glass case, was a suit of powered combat armor, a hulking exoskeleton used by the ship's marines for boarding actions.
"The Aegis-class combat suit would provide significant protection and strength augmentation," Mother said.
"Can I even operate it?"
"The neural chip allows for a basic interface. It will handle the suit's balance and systems management. You would provide the motor commands."
It was a far cry from a maintenance jumpsuit. It took him an hour to figure out how to climb into the formidable suit. When the systems powered on, a heads-up display flickered to life in his helmet, overlaying his vision with targeting data, system status, and a direct link to Mother. The suit whirred as he took a step, amplifying his movement. He felt powerful, invincible. He armed himself with a pulse rifle and a bandolier of thermal grenades.
As he was preparing, another transmission arrived from the planet. This one was different. It wasn't a map or a schematic. It was an image. A complex, three-dimensional symbol that resembled a stylized flower made of light.
"I cannot decipher its meaning," Mother admitted. "It is not a language. It is… an image."
Kaelen stared at it. It was beautiful. It felt like a gift. A wish of good luck. Or a warning.
He pushed the thought aside. He had a mission. He moved through the ship towards the entrance of the maintenance conduit, the suit's heavy footfalls echoing in the empty halls. He reached a nondescript hatch in a remote engineering area, exactly where the alien map said it would be.
The hatch was stiff, but the powered armor made short work of it. Beyond was a tight, vertical shaft, descending into darkness.
"This is it," he said, his voice amplified by the helmet.
"I will guide you as best I can," Mother replied. "But once you descend beyond the first hundred meters, my sensor link will degrade. You will be on your own."
Kaelen took a deep breath, the sound loud in the confines of his helmet. He switched on the suit's powerful shoulder-mounted lamps, illuminating the shaft. Then he began the climb down, into the belly of the beast.
The descent was nerve-wracking. The conduit was cramped for the armored suit, and the only sound was the whir of his actuators and the scrape of metal on metal. The air grew thick and warm, carrying a distinct, sweetly rotten odor—the smell of the Xylophage.
After a long climb, he reached the bottom. The conduit opened up into a large, dark space. His lights cut through the gloom, revealing a nightmare landscape. The walls were no longer metal; they were covered in a pulsating, veined tissue that glowed with the same faint energy he'd seen in Hydroponics Theta. The floor was a spongy, organic mat. He was inside the infection.
Ahead, the tunnel branched. According to the map, the left path led to the core chamber. But as he stood there, he heard a sound from the right tunnel. A soft, rhythmic clicking. And then, a faint, weak signal pinged on his suit's short-range scanner.
It wasn't a Xylophage signature. It was a human life sign.