The next day, Lynn woke on the creaking boards of his battered bed.
The aches all over his body felt like a mild punishment from the Emperor for yesterday's blasphemy.
But he knew he had to establish communication before Rena, that terrifying creature torn free of the Hive Mind, recovered any more strength.
Or before that vast collective consciousness swallowed her again.
Time was as precious as dripping Promethium.
He summoned the pink heart-shaped arrow, so out of place amid his surroundings, which pointed toward the deeper, darker levels of the Hive City.
Lynn changed into oil-stained worker's clothes and tucked his Laspistol and dagger into his belt.
Pocketing a few tubes of bland nutrient paste, he followed the arrow into the maze of metal alleyways.
The farther down he went, the thicker the layer of pulsing slime coating the metal walls became.
The fungal mat's distinctive smell, cloyingly sweet and mingled with rot and blood, was almost tangible in the air.
The arrow finally pointed toward Sector Seven's main sewer hub.
He ducked inside.
A forgotten vaulted hall opened up before him.
A towering dome constantly dripped viscous liquid overhead, and sewage of dubious composition rose past his ankles.
Only the fluorescent fungi parasitizing the pipes gave off a faint, cold glow, like ghostly lights in a tomb.
He scraped off some fungi, then skewered several fat, writhing "pipe slugs" that lived on waste.
Finally, he even found a half-full, leaking can of "high-temperature lubricant."
These "gifts" were almost embarrassingly shabby, but he had no choice.
He had to check on that Tyranid Warrior's condition as soon as possible.
The pink arrow began flashing rapidly, pointing beyond a mostly rusted sluice gate.
It had once been a water purification basin.
[Warning: target is on high alert. Multiple lesser Tyranid life signs detected.]
The system's cold notification put Lynn on edge.
He crouched low and peered through a gap in the gate.
Deep inside the abandoned water treatment basin, Rena lay curled in a corner, licking the ominous crystallized wound on her forelimb with her forked tongue.
The nearly picked-clean remains of several giant mutant rats lay scattered around her.
But the biggest change was the dozen or so Hormagaunts lying still in the shadows.
The Tyranids' most basic and most numerous infantry unit, cheap cannon fodder in close combat.
Lynn surmised that, feeling unsafe, Rena had forcibly "plundered" some unhatched spores from the Hive Mind's control, then forcibly bound and hatched them.
As he watched, Rena's head suddenly snapped up, her compound eyes swiveling toward the gate without the slightest hesitation!
Every Hormagaunt turned in unison, their scarlet compound eyes locking onto his position!
The next second, a dozen dark shapes sprang forward, bony claw-blades tearing through the air, already in his face!
[Bound target detected within interaction range. Activate "Forced Dialogue Protocol"? Note: this operation will consume a large amount of the caster's mental energy.]
"Activate it! Now!" Lynn roared. He had no doubt these Xenos would tear him apart in an instant.
A needle-sharp pain stabbed through his temples, as though a drill were churning through his brain.
Every lunging Hormagaunt abruptly froze in midair, as if restrained by an invisible force.
Rena, too, abruptly straightened to her full three-meter height and let out a howl of pain and fury.
But an irresistible force twisted her around to face Lynn.
[Compulsion field generated. Maintaining it requires continuous mental energy expenditure.]
"Emperor protect me. Thank goodness these Hormagaunts count as part of her consciousness."
Lynn gasped for breath, cold sweat soaking his back.
Not daring to delay, he hurriedly looked at the system interface that appeared.
A pixel-art dialogue box popped up.
On the left was his portrait: a thin young man with black hair and weariness in his eyes.
On the right was Rena's "character art," a highly realistic close-up of a Tyranid Warrior.
Her carapace was jagged, her bone blades menacing, and the blank bewilderment forcibly rendered in her compound eyes mingled with the instinctive rage of being forced into submission.
[Lynn]: (Raises the odds and ends wrapped in a rag.)
"Listen! I mean no harm! I brought some 'supplies.'"
[Rena]: (Compound eyes locked on him, mouthparts opening and closing unnaturally with a grinding sound.)
"Skree!"
[System translation]: Wariness, confusion, anger.
Lynn set the bundle on the damp ground and slowly backed away:
"We're bound together. You can feel it, can't you?
"Like two bugs on the same string."
[Rena]: (The bone blades on her forelimbs unconsciously scrape the metal floor. Cloudy, purplish-black bodily fluid seeps from her wound.)
"Hisssss..."
[System translation]: Deep confusion and discomfort over her independent state. The wound continues to cause pain.
Lynn pointed at her crystallized forelimb. "Can I help you? At least, can we stop trying to kill each other for now?"
[Rena]: (Her body jerks forward, her pixel-art portrait shaking violently.)
"Skree!!!"
[System translation]: Strong intent to expel you. However, mixed with an extremely faint trace of hesitation to "await further observational data." Mental energy -8.
She hesitated! Even a trace meant a chance!
Lynn nudged the bundle and the lubricant can closer with his toe:
"These are 'gifts.' If they're useless, you can consider turning me into biomass afterward."
Rena stood rigid, her massive body trembling slightly as the system's compulsion clashed with her instincts.
At last, she yielded to the incomprehensible power of the "protocol."
She extended her uninjured forelimb and picked open the rag bundle with the tip of her bone blade.
The fluorescent fungi and slug remains tumbled out.
She lowered her head, her mouthparts drawing them in like an efficient grinder, chewing and swallowing.
Then she bit through the lubricant can and sucked the viscous liquid inside dry.
The whole process was quiet and swift, with the Tyranids' distinctive efficiency, and a hint of indescribable disdain?
[System notification]: "Gift" of mixed organic matter accepted. Energy value: extremely low. Affection +1. Current affection: -54. Special item "High-temperature industrial grease" accepted. Energy value: low. Hunger slightly alleviated. Affection +0. [First interaction complete. Reward: affection +5. [Dialogue] function unlocked: limited to 3 uses per day, each use consumes mental energy.] Current affection: -49. [Warning: caster's mental energy is below the safety threshold. Forced protocol will end shortly.]
A powerful wave of dizziness struck Lynn, leaving him barely able to stand.
Across from him, Rena gave a low hiss as though relieved of a burden and stopped looking at him.
She turned back to the recessed corner, curled up again, and resumed licking her wound.
The Hormagaunts retreated into the shadows, though several pairs of compound eyes still gleamed, watching the gate warily.
The compulsion field vanished.
Seeing that Rena had no intention of attacking again, Lynn relaxed a little.
He backed toward the gate, his voice hoarse. "I'll come again, with more 'gifts.'
"I'll find a way to deal with your wound.
"You don't mind if I call you 'Rena,' do you?"
The Tyranid Warrior gave no response to any of his three remarks, as though he were nothing more than irrelevant noise.
Lynn shook his head and turned to leave, taking her silence as tacit consent for now.
Only after leaving Rena's "territory" did Lynn dare slump down against a thick transport pipe.
The excessive expenditure of mental energy brought profound exhaustion, and the system interface appeared with new missions at just that moment:
[Daily mission: daily feeding (0/1)] Reward: random affection +0-5 [Stage mission: help the target alleviate her injuries (crystallized wound purification progress 0/10)] Reward: unknown Rena's status: HP 32/100 (severely injured). Affection: -49.
"At least I won't be made into biomass filler for now."
He murmured to himself, yet a gambler's gleam flashed through his eyes.
Rena was undoubtedly an extremely dangerous Xenos scourge, but if he could turn that power to his own use...