Chapter 769: Landing and Anomalies
The Hyperion waited in line in Meinhoff orbit for a full eighteen hours before finally being granted entry into the quarantine procedure.
The long wait exacerbated the tension on the ship; supplies were further depleted, and two refugees died during the wait due to their already weakened physical conditions.
The quarantine process was strict and tedious.
All personnel—including the Raiders and Valerie's security team—had to pass through multi-layered biological scans and rapid blood tests.
The interior of the ship had to undergo high-intensity ultraviolet and chemical atomization disinfection.
Carried equipment and supplies also needed to be inspected separately.
"Treatin' us like a plague ship," Tychus complained in the quarantine corridor, the outer shell of his power armor being sprayed with disinfecting foam.
"They are just being cautious," Dr. Hanson said, watching the data stream on the scanner. "We know far too little about the latency and transmission methods of Swarm spores. If even one carrier slips through, the entire planet could suffer."
Valerie passed the inspection quietly.
Her "security team" drew special attention from the quarantine personnel; those advanced power armors and weapon systems clearly exceeded the scope of conventional corporate security.
But after Valerie presented the Far Star United documents (forged documents processed by Ryo's technical team to match local formats) and explained them as special equipment for high-risk zone operations, the quarantine officials let them pass after recording detailed data.
After the quarantine ended, the Hyperion was cleared to dock at Orbital Port 3.
The refugees were transferred in batches to the orbital quarantine zone, where they needed to be observed for forty-eight hours.
Raynor, Dr. Hanson, and the others were granted permission to head to the planet's surface to coordinate with the Meinhoff authorities and understand the situation.
Matt Horner remained on the Hyperion's bridge, responsible for orbital coordination and communication.
Valerie went along under the identity of Risk Assessment and Potential Humanitarian Aid Coordinator.
The dropship landed at the Central Spaceport on Meinhoff's main continent.
Looking out the viewport, the scenery of this industrial planet was starkly different from the previous agricultural world: towering polymer buildings, crisscrossing mag-lev tracks, and massive factory smokestacks venting processed steam into the gray-blue sky.
But on the fringes of this orderly industrial landscape, massive expanses of makeshift shantytown refugee camps could be seen.
Coming to greet them were officials from Meinhoff's civil affairs department and a lieutenant colonel from the local garrison.
After brief pleasantries, the group took a vehicle to the command center.
In the vehicle, Dr. Hanson observed the refugee camps through the window.
"It's even more crowded than the news reports. The spacing between the tents does not meet the most basic epidemic prevention standards, and garbage is piling up... this is a breeding ground for infectious diseases."
"Our resources are limited, Doctor," the accompanying civil affairs official said, his tone exhausted. "New fleets arrive every day. Just guaranteeing basic food and water rations is already incredibly difficult."
The command center was located inside a reinforced bunker.
In the conference room, local officials gave the Raynor team a brief overview of the situation.
"The currently registered refugee population is three hundred and twenty-seven thousand; the actual number might be higher." The chief of civil affairs pointed to four primary refugee camp zones marked on the holographic map. "Our greatest pressure is on the medical system. There have already been three dysentery outbreaks and two clusters of respiratory infections. Although they have been contained, they consumed massive amounts of supplies."
"Even more troublesome are the psychological issues: panic, post-traumatic stress disorder, mass anxiety. We already have reports of minor riots and looting incidents occurring in the camps."
"What about defenses?" Raynor asked the garrison lieutenant colonel.
"The orbital defense systems and fleet are in good condition, but we have to divide our forces to protect the shipping lanes, enforce quarantines, and patrol." The lieutenant colonel brought up a defensive deployment map. "Ground forces are primarily deployed around key industrial facilities and the cities."
"As for the refugee camps... we have stationed military police to maintain order, but their numbers are insufficient. If a large-scale riot breaks out, we will have to deploy combat troops, which will weaken our defenses."
He paused, lowering his voice: "Furthermore, recently there have been some... unusual reports."
"What kind of reports?" Raynor asked alertly.
"Starting from Refugee Camp 3, about five days ago." The lieutenant colonel brought up a few blurry video recordings. "Night patrols reported seeing refugees with abnormal behavior. The descriptions mention stiff movements, inhuman growls, and extreme aggression."
"There have been three attacks, resulting in five injured military police."
"After the attackers were killed, autopsies showed... abnormal physiological structures, dark green blood, and signs of rapid tissue necrosis."
Dr. Hanson's head snapped up. "Where are the bodies? I need to examine them immediately!"
"They've already been cremated." The lieutenant colonel shook his head. "The local medical officer believed it was some rare metabolic disease or toxic reaction. Fearing contagion, they disposed of them according to high-risk biological waste protocols. But similar sporadic reports are starting to emerge from other refugee camps, all occurring at night."
Raynor's face grew heavy. This didn't sound like an ordinary disease.
"Take us to Refugee Camp 3." Raynor stood up.
"Commander, I don't recommend—" the civil affairs official tried to dissuade him.
"We are here to help, and we need to understand the real situation." Raynor's tone was resolute. "If there is some anomalous threat, the sooner we find out, the better."
Ultimately, the group, escorted by a squad of local military police, headed to Refugee Camp 3, located about twenty kilometers from the spaceport.
On the way, Dr. Hanson frowned deeply and said to Valerie in a low voice, "Dark green blood, rapid tissue necrosis, heightened aggression... this reminds me of genetic mutations in extreme cases, or... parasitism."
Valerie noted this silently. She sent a brief update to Ryo: "Anomalous biological incidents appearing on Meinhoff, suspected infection or mutation. Dr. Hanson participating in investigation. Continuing observation."
Refugee Camp 3 was massive; barbed wire and makeshift walls enclosed an area of several square kilometers.
Tents and temporary prefab houses were packed tightly together, and the air was filled with a mix of odors.
The searchlights on the military police watchtowers flared to life in the gathering twilight.
Inside the camp's medical station, the local medical officer showed Dr. Hanson the limited records: photographs of the attackers' blood samples and a rough autopsy report.
"We initially thought it was some kind of industrial poisoning or radiation sickness, but we screened all possible sources and found no matches," the medical officer said. "Furthermore, all cases have appeared within the past week; there were absolutely none before. Even stranger is..." He hesitated. "These patients only seem to be active at night. They have never been spotted during the day. Witnesses claim to have seen suspected cases hiding in the shadows or deep inside tents just before dawn."
Dr. Hanson's expression grew increasingly grim. "I need a more detailed biochemical analysis. Do you have isolation facilities?"
"There is a small isolation tent, but the conditions are very primitive."
"Take me there."