Plague Watcher

The downpour gradually subsided, and the wind began to shift. But then it started snowing, followed by hailstones the size of fists. The roads began to freeze, becoming extremely slippery. The clouds completely obscured the starlight, and the lights from every house were the only source of light in the Freeport.

Becca Row is an absolutely terrible place. The climate is harsh, the soil is barren, and most of the land is covered by ridges that have been repeatedly eroded by rain. The terrain is winding and barren, unable to support any vegetation.

While the frequent lightning strikes on the planet generate large amounts of nitrogen dioxide and nitric acid, providing ample nitrogen fertilizer for crop growth, Becca Lowe's lightning strikes are excessively frequent. It's merely a gloomy, rocky planet—there may be ten million such planets in the Milky Way Galaxy —yet it was the place where Buren's ancestors, by a twist of fate, decided to settle.

Not all worlds are as blessed as Tarsonis, Korhal, and Taradorn, but humanity is a resilient race, capable of adapting to almost any harsh environment in the Milky Way Galaxy.

Buren climbed onto the family's robo-harvester, feeling his health deteriorating rapidly. By the time he started the engine, he was practically coughing up blood; every cell in his body seemed to be screaming, and excruciating pain surged through his heart and lungs like a tidal wave.

He knew he probably wouldn't last much longer; soon he would become one of those mutated monsters at the weather station, their faces covered in tumors and tentacles. Regret, pain, and fear suffocated Buren, and for a long time, he sat almost motionless in the harvester's driver's seat.

Fortunately, this Zerg virus has not yet invaded the brain of the controlled Buren. All infected humans will eventually become slaves to the master's mind, a fate worse than death.

Fortunately, Buren doesn't know yet.

Buren's love and sense of responsibility for his family and the entire Freeport rallied him, knowing that if the town were ultimately swallowed up by this terrible infection, his loved ones would also perish there.

Buren was merely a second-generation immigrant born and raised by Becca Rowe. His understanding of the world was limited to Freeport, and his vision consisted only of the canyon beyond the pass and the farmland that followed.

Buren had once dreamed of becoming a starship soldier because he loved traveling and adventure, and starships were always traversing between star systems, quadrants, and galaxies. But Becca Lowe simply didn't have that opportunity. Forget starships, even ships that could fly out of the atmosphere were either left to rust in warehouses or dismantled for valuable building materials.

He was once the most adventurous and curious man in Freeport, and his keen mechanical intuition allowed him to skillfully repair damaged agricultural irrigation and harvesting equipment. Buren had the opportunity to go further, but there was no one here to teach him.

Later, he had to accept the reality he had to face, and like everyone else in Freeport, he got married and had children early, trying his best to feed himself and his family. Dreams, such unrealistic things, could only be left aside to slowly erode.

A gust of wind swept by, whipping up snow that resembled a white mist, while hailstones lashed against the windshield and roof of the harvester with a clanging sound. Outside the hail-strewn windows, the newly lit Freeport swayed precariously in the storm, groaning and trembling.

At this time of day, the Buren family of four would normally be sitting happily at the table covered with a blue checkered tablecloth, enjoying a simple dinner—mostly just bread, bacon, and some warm barley tea. When thunder rumbled and the wind and rain raged outside, the house would be warm and cozy, and his daughter Octavia Bren would be sitting on his lap, giggling.

This is probably how people in the poorest parts of the entire Milky Way Galaxy live. Buren had heard that the central world of the Terran Confederacy was incredibly prosperous, but he didn't have much of a concept of it.

Thinking of his wife and children's smiling faces, Buren forced himself to endure the pain and fear, started the harvester, and drove it onto the concrete road in Freeport, through the howling wind and hail.

Becca Lowe taught the people here how to fight against nature, and taught them the meaning of patience and forbearance, enduring the hardships and pains of life. On the edge of the Koprulu Sector, only the most tenacious can survive.

On the main street of Freeport, not a single car could be seen amidst the storm, and every household sat calmly in their homes, facing the tempest. Where there are lights and flames, there is the budding of human civilization.

This harvester has been with the Buren family for many years; it's older than their two children, passed down through generations, just like any other family member.

These highly automated and integrated harvesters can be found in almost any world within the Terran Confederacy, equipped with functions such as tilling, crushing stones, and sowing. They can also be fitted with solid gasoline flamethrowers when necessary. In the Kel-Morian style, a harvester can be welded with a few steel plates to become a tank, and they can even modify a colossal planetary excavator into an electromagnetically accelerated ground-based fighter launch port.

The combine harvester was the immigrants' most loyal and reliable partner, and Buren just hoped it wouldn't break down today.

Buren's destination was Jacob Nicholas's home, who might also have been infected, and his home was near Freeport's largest and only radio broadcasting station. Although that old equipment was thirty or forty years old, its parts were rusted, and it was questionable whether it could still be used.

Suddenly, a beam of light shone from a side street, blinding him. Buren immediately recognized it as the car of Colston Werner, Freeport teacher—an old-fashioned, Ground-Effect Car. Colston's father had bought it from a used car dealer before the Terra Family of Tarsonis had ventured into the Hover Car industry.

This car is a treasure in a rural place like Freeport; after all, a sedan always stands out among a group of harvesters.

This is also the car that Colston is very proud of, just like his distinctive greasy center-parted hair, which is always with him, but this does not prevent him from being a serious and responsible good teacher and a warm-hearted person.

"You got it too, Colston?" The harvester's communicator broke down two years ago, and no one has been able to fix it since. Buren can only communicate with Colston via walkie-talkie.

Colston had also gone with Nicholas and Buren to check the missing weather station, along with old Rustin and the town's only biologist, Gredri. If all went as expected, they were likely already infected; the Creep was one of the most basic routes of transmission for the Zerg virus.

Looking back now, we should have notified the Terran Empire's army back then, but the people in Freeport only trusted their own. That's just how people are; they never believe what they're facing until disaster strikes.

"For God's sake, I used my last bit of strength to climb into the car. Now, only the people of the Terran Empire can save this town. If this disease is incurable, old Buren, then you and I will each shoot the other, so we don't leave him to harm others." Colston's tone remained calm, as always. In other words, crying and wailing were no longer of any use.

Most of the people living in this town have families, and they have endured all kinds of hardships. Neither natural disasters nor man-made calamities have defeated the people of Becca Rowe.

"Go to Nicholas's house. That cunning fellow used this crisis to get the appointment of the first mayor at the citizens' assembly. Since that's the case, he should take responsibility," Buren said.

There's no time to discuss their conditions now; if they were to mutate into these monsters right now, everyone in the town would suffer.

"They're possessed by demons! These imperialists have brought demons! I knew they wouldn't bring good news. I saw through their true colors forty years ago! This strange disease might be their doing—no, I'll bet my four gas extraction facilities, it must be them!" Soon, the old miner Rustin's combine harvester jumped onto Buren's rearview mirror, his distinctively loud voice roaring incessantly:

"This isn't over yet. As long as I'm alive, even if I'm just breathing, I'll beat these imperial bastards to a pulp!"

Rustin's home was a few miles from Freeport, but after seeing the devastation at the weather station, even a tough old man like Rustin, who had spent many years in Koprulu, dared not stay outside any longer.

Finally, biologist Gredri managed to contact Buren, who had also been infected with the virus. After briefly learning about the situation, this biologist, who had made many selfless contributions to the genetic improvement of livestock in Freeport, decided to lock himself in his house and experiment on himself to find a cure.

Even though Becca Row is not a livable paradise, the people here are no longer those who harbor resentment towards the Confederacy; they also love the land beneath their feet.

"Say less, Rustin, while we're still alive." Buren floored the accelerator, driving the harvester like a sports car, with the teacher and miners' vehicles close behind. "We must warn the people in town!"

"You want to be a hero?" Rustin roared.

"I've burned down all my oil refineries, keeping the last barrel of gas for myself. Is that enough?"

"Rustin, if you had even a bit of that romantic flair, you wouldn't have been a bachelor for so long." Despite the excruciating pain, Colston still laughed heartily.

"I hate living with other people," Rustin said. "You should have known, I'm a lone wolf."

Freeport is not large; even driving from the edge of town to the town center only takes about ten minutes. Soon, the residence of the current mayor Nicholas, was reached.

Upon assuming the position of mayor of Freeport, this slick but eloquent young man selected the best house in town as his residence, which had originally been a large warehouse storing electronic equipment and other machinery.

It was a tall, two-story steel-framed red brick building, with even two marble gargoyle sculptures at the entrance. I don't know where Nicholas got these antiques from; they were originally decorations for a church.

In places like Becca Rowe, there are workshops and hired laborers, but the concept of money is nonexistent, and class differences are minimal.

Buren and Colston quickly knocked on Nicholas's door, where the blond young man, who lived alone, was disheveled and in tears. This seemed to be the most normal state for him; he already knew he had a terminal illness, and the excruciating pain and fear were enough to drive a person mad.

"Waaaaah--" Nicholas wept bitterly:

"It hurts so much!"

"You've been sitting here crying all this time? Where's the broadcast control console?" Buren grabbed Nicholas's tattered suit, while the old miner jumped up and slapped the young mayor.

"Cry, cry, cry! Slug, can crying kill Zerg and viruses?"

"I'm going to die," Nicholas sobbed like a beaten puppy.

"We haven't even said it's incurable yet, what's your rush?" Rustin slapped Nicholas again. This old man was always the fear of the town's children, and even today, many people are still terrified when they see this eccentric old man.

"I'll take you there right away." Nicholas was terrified of death, and Rustin's words made him even more afraid.

A few seconds later, Buren, who was standing outside, suddenly heard the sound of a heavy object falling from the sky—the sound of wind and snow was still incessant, but the dull thud of the impact was very clear.

First, a dark shadow landed on the house opposite Nicholas's, creating a deep crater in the roof. By the light from inside the house, Buren could see a shadow tumbling down from the roof to the ground, landing several hundred yards away.

It was a person, a person whose body was smashed beyond recognition, with his limbs and head twisted at angles that no normal person could possibly do, and one of his legs twisted into a pretzel by the enormous impact.

For a moment, neither Buren nor Colston beside him could react. Then, the bloodied and mangled "person" stood up unsteadily and staggered toward the wide-eyed group.

The twisted, deformed humanoid creature was still wearing fragments of electroplated silver-white Power Armor. Its helmet was nowhere to be found, revealing an extremely pale face. Half of the face still retained the texture of its former skin, while the other half was swollen and enlarged many times its original size, resembling a bulbous nose.

Two malevolent eyes, glowing with a dim yellow light, peered out from under the helmet, tendrils and huge, fleshy nodules spilling out from the gaps in the armor.

One can imagine that he must have been a brave human soldier, and he must have been very proud of his armor and his role.

But now, it's just a twisted, terrifying monster.

Buren strained to make out the golden eagle emblem on the enemy's armor, seemingly trying to figure out its original identity, but he quickly forgot about it.

Immediately afterwards, more monsters like these rained down from the sky, crashing onto the houses with irregular, muffled impacts. Thousands upon thousands of twisted shadows writhed and rose to their feet, their eyes glowing yellow or red.

They uttered incomprehensible murmurs as they staggered toward the still-living, trembling people.

"There's a warship up there!" Colston pointed to the sky, where a massive interstellar warship hovered above Freeport, yet no light could be seen, and no engine roar could be heard.

This is also why the people in the town didn't discover it.

He didn't know that it was an infected UED Valkyrie.

"That's not an Imperial ship!"

The bell of Freeport rang, and parents led their children out of their gates. Boys and men wearing felt hats picked up guns.