Griffin Swarm

A Becca Rowe proverb more or less reveals the nature of this terrible disaster: when you think something is bad enough, beware, it will only get worse.

When old Buren returned home, the howling wind outside had turned into thunderous roars like the fury of ghosts and gods. The slanting rain fell like thick walls, and the weather became damp and cold. The sky had completely darkened, and streaks of blue-purple lightning, sometimes several miles long, struck the earth.

Becca Lo is a terrible place, with most of the year marked by severe weather such as thunderstorms, hail, torrential rain, and tornadoes, and little good weather for the rest of the year. This kind of climate is common on many planets with atmospheres, but it is particularly severe on Becca Lo.

Extreme weather can destroy colonists' farmland and mines, and rebuilding them requires ten or even a hundred times more effort. After all, not all planets are as warm and sunny as Tarsonis.

At this time, staying in a modular steel structure with an insulating coating is the wisest choice.

"The children are all back." Mrs. Brun was wearing an old, faded but clean work shirt and had a dry towel draped over her hand.

Becca Lowe's Freeport has its own weaving workshops and tailors. They stopped trading with other Confederacy colonies or interstellar merchants a long time ago, so they have to make and forge their own daily necessities and various tools.

Those devices salvaged from spaceships in the early Colonial Era were beyond repair once a part broke, or even just a single broken vacuum tube.

This colony, passed down through generations, was merely a place where a group of people, all with similar tragic fates and yearning for a free life, huddled together for warmth. Many of this generation were related by blood or marriage, supporting each other.

The Buren family's furnishings were simple; even the tables, chairs, and blankets looked like they had been used for many years. In Freeport, there was no class distinction or wealth gap, meaning that most people were equally poor and lived difficult lives.

There are no television stations on this planet. Although power plants and signal towers are still functioning, not every household has a television or radio. Even so, the people here have not given up hope for life and try their best to educate their children.

"After the general assembly of all citizens of Freeport concludes, you will go with Nicholas to the earthquake detectors and weather station outside town. I'm really worried something might happen." The lady's hands and skin were rough from the heavy work, but her face still showed the youthful vitality of her younger days.

Actually, old Buren and his wife aren't old at all; they got married when they were sixteen or seventeen and are not even thirty yet, but they look much older.

"Is what that Imperial soldier said true? Is there really some alien monster coming to Becca Lowe?" she asked.

Old Buren took off his raincoat, which was wrapped in a waterproof canvas, and hung it on the clothes rack to dry. His face was ashen, like the sky. "Darling, I just hope I'm seeing things, but Brutus almost peed his pants. Brutus is a good farmer, and at that moment he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in the mud."

As he spoke, Mr. Buren lowered his voice. "I'm afraid it's true."

"This is terrible." Mrs. Brun looked out the window at the torrential rain, as if afraid that a horrible monster might leap out from it.

"Previously, the weather station and farms in the Forty Turns Hills lost contact with the town, and this time it was for even longer than usual. Coupled with the sudden arrival of the Terran Empire, everyone was uneasy. So we drove our combine harvesters to the Forty Turns Hills, only to see a few gliders and rock lizards. Everything seemed normal—though the weather was usually terrible," Buren said.

"Everyone breathed a sigh of relief; perhaps the Empire was just exaggerating. But it wasn't long before we realized something was wrong," he said.

"The weather station on the Forty Turns Hills was covered with some kind of fungus, like purplish mold, and the weather balloon was full of veins and arteries like human tissue. Dr. McCarthy and his several employees and students who remained there..."

"Oh, what's wrong with them—he's a good man, the doctor has been trying his best to improve the terrible climate in Becca Row." Mrs. Brun felt a pang of sadness.

In Becca Row, many people lose their lives each year due to extreme weather, and once scientists and mechanics, who possess vital skills, are tragically lost, they are difficult to replace. The technology and civilization of this small place will only continue to decline unless they forge their own path of development.

"They all turned into monsters, monsters with fangs and sharp teeth, their skin becoming as slimy as fish," Buren said, still shaken.

"Everyone panicked. Nicholas ran for his life. Only Colston and I grabbed shotguns." It was hard to say how much of Mr. Buren's story was exaggerated. He coughed and placed the old-fashioned torrent shotgun on the chipped table behind him. "I killed one, Colston took out the other."

"Then we drove back—it was a nightmare. How could humans become like that? What turned them into that? If the data disk the Empire gave Nicholas was true, then it was the Zerg that killed McCarthy and his men."

"And the scientists of the Terran Empire call it an infection."

"Holy Mary, the Forty Turns Hills are only a dozen miles from here. If those monsters can kill the people in the weather station, they can do the same to the people in Freeport." Mrs. Brun was stunned for more than ten seconds before she came back to her senses.

"But where can we escape to? Leaving the Freeport won't make our fate any better than staying here."

"We can only ask the Imperial Army for help, hoping they will lend a hand. If it were the Confederacy, even if they provided support to Freeport, they would use the opportunity to control the entire town, impose conditions on military protection, and force us to pay for military expenses—although they could do it even without that pretext." Buren sat down in a chair.

"There's no time to organize another citizens' assembly. The old folks in town have all decided to seek military assistance from the Empire, no matter what the cost." He said in a low voice, as if afraid of disturbing the two children in the bedroom.

"It's not just the weather station; more than a dozen family farms far from Freeport have also been affected. The situation is deteriorating, and even the dogs and livestock have turned into some kind of monster."

This generation of Bekaro people is different from the previous generation; they will never cling to past experiences.

"I hope that the storm that was a complete disaster for us in the past can also stop those enemies." He took a cup of tea from his wife's hand and moistened his throat. This man, who had never left Becca Rowe, realized that he was now the only pillar of support for his wife and children.

That was tea infused with salsa. In the rugged, mountainous landscape of Beka Ro, wheat and oats occupy the limited land. Coffee and tea are no longer grown by the locals; even if all the land were planted with grains, it would be difficult to feed everyone.

"There are a few missile turrets left behind by previous inhabitants in Freeport; they might come in handy. We have pulse guns for dealing with large beasts, but we've long since run out of ammunition."

"I don't know whether to trust those Imperials. Most of the people in town share the same view as me. This is a rule set by our fathers: the people of Becca Rowe support themselves with their own hands and will never return to the Terran Confederacy." He continued:

"That officer kept emphasizing the difference between the Empire and the Confederacy. He said the Terran Empire was founded by a group that overthrew the Confederacy, and that the Terran Empire Emperor did a better job than the Confederate Congress and the Old Families —we all hope that savvy merchants don't exaggerate when they're praising their wares."

"Before he passed away, my father only told me, with his eyes wide open, 'Never trust the Confederacy.' I'll never forget the look on his face then. I just hope that the Terran Empire and the Terran Confederacy really are different."

"An army to protect the people? That probably ceased to exist two centuries ago." Mrs. Brun was a wise woman, and it was with this wisdom that she raised her children on a limited diet.

"But if there really is a group of people fighting against humanity's enemies, they are likely to be completely different from the Confederacy soldiers our fathers saw."

"Hmm," Buren nodded, then coughed involuntarily, suddenly feeling unwell all over.

When Buren suddenly saw green spots appearing on the back of his hand, his face turned almost as blue as his skin.

He had seen skin like that not long ago—on his fellow countrymen who had somehow turned into monsters.

When was it?

Infect?

In what form and through what means does it spread? Is there any hope of recovery if one is infected?

Buren recalled the purplish-black, gelatinous blanket spreading beneath their feet. Although they were careful not to approach the infected buildings or the distorted humanoid monsters, the disgusting, sticky, snot-like substance still clung to their boots.

A surge of shock, anger, and regret gripped Buren's heart. He immediately stood up and distanced himself from his wife. At that moment, he was more worried about his family than himself.

Freeport has also experienced outbreaks of infectious diseases, but those were spread through foodborne illnesses caused by unharvested grain left to rot in the ground after rain.

According to the data and warnings provided by the Empire, although during their so-called Total War period, which is after 2491, the Zerg virus and infection were not the Zerg's primary means of attack. Their methods of spreading the virus were also not sophisticated, and infected people would not infect healthy people, thus preventing secondary cross-infection.

Until recently, a Cerebrate named Carlos came into view, further refining the infection methods of the Zerg and having bred new Zerg variants carrying a large number of micro-parasites and fungal viruses.

Today, massive spore-spraying clusters can even send trillions of infected spores across the entire universe. This alone is terrifying; once these extremely tiny spores enter a planet's atmosphere, they can scatter across the entire planet, attaching to air currents and rivers to find their hosts.

The ways in which these Zerg spread infection are also difficult to prevent. Among the known methods, apart from spores scattered in the air, many people are not even sure how they got infected.

The Swarm of Carlos is perhaps the most terrifying Zerg ever encountered by humanity, its sole purpose being the annihilation of this formidable foe. If the plague were to spread throughout the Koprulu Sector, it would be a horrific catastrophe.

The Terran Empire officially named it Carlos, and its race was the Plague Race, which was named the Griffin Swarm by Emperor Augustus (Griffin, the Gryphon in Greek mythology, with the body of a lion and the head of an eagle).

"What's wrong? What happened?" Mrs. Brun had never seen her husband with such an expression on his face.

"I was infected by the Zerg. On the way, I contracted the terrible plague that the soldier talked about. I don't know how much longer I have to live. I might die soon." Buren was silent for a few seconds, or maybe longer, but he had made up his mind when he showed his wife the bulging veins and fungal scars on his wrist.

He silently put on the raincoat he had worn when he returned and took his gun with him.

"You might have been infected while you were talking to me—" The larger man, with his messy dark brown hair, paused.

"My dear, now you must lock yourself in this room. No matter what, do not open the door for the children, no matter how they cry or plead. When the doctors and scientists from the Terran Empire arrive, they will tell you what to do."

"I have to get out of here and warn the others." He opened the door and leaped once more into the storm, a storm powerful enough to knock a person to the ground.

"After all this is done, I will go to the automated oil refinery. Only fire can prevent the further spread of infectious diseases."

Farewell.

Mrs. Brun was a strong woman, but as the door closed once more, she was already in tears.

Outside, the torrential rain poured down, and Buren realized his condition was rapidly deteriorating. He was more likely infected hours earlier, and the symptoms were only just beginning to appear.

Fortunately, he hadn't met many people.

The weather was getting worse and worse; the gale seemed capable of knocking Buren down completely. Storms swirled in the twilight sky, and the only light in the sky had disappeared, leaving only the bright lights of Freeport.

The wind howled like ghosts and wolves, but in Buren it sounded like the roar of a monster.

Buren was still conscious, and he hoped it wasn't just a final flicker of life. He had to find those who were also likely infected and persuade them to leave with him.

Next, he would broadcast a message to everyone to unite and hold out until reinforcements from the Terran Empire arrived.