Chapter 605: Living Brain Cells (7)

“Buddha Jumps Over the Wall, Wellington Steak, Provençal Stew—wow, even West Lake Fish in Vinegar Sauce is here.”

Li Cheng pulled out a heavy high-density polyethylene barrel from a low cabinet, lifted the lid sealed with butyl rubber, and removed individual vacuum-sealed aluminum foil composite pouches of space food.

This was the upper-level dining hall of the Xinxiang Base; under an impulsive suggestion, the remaining ten survivors split into three groups to repair different areas.

Su Nisheng and Zhongli Mie Ming, the two most suspicious alien variants, naturally couldn’t be placed in the same group, and no one trusted them to be together.

Thus, the groups were divided as follows:

Pifu, Dir, Su Nisheng;

Edith, Valkyrie, Zhongli Mie Ming;

Out of control, Hydra, Midnight Dad, Laughing God; [22] Li Cheng said nothing. Judging by the death of the Blood Lion’s Roar, he strongly doubted that even if every human colonist were given a Fangtian Huaji, a Zhanba Shemao, or a Green Dragon Crescent Blade, they could still defeat a space alien variant without base security intervention. [54] The attack came from Edith—her armed hand could fire kinetic rounds. But the dragging sound inside the wall was still receding.

“Call it food? It’s just protein powder with different seasonings—hardly even pre-made meals.”

Dir pinched the aluminum foil composite pouch with no production date; inside, powder rustled softly. He paused, murmuring, “A civilization capable of sub-light cruise still eats this...”

“It’s as bad as British food.”

Due to the precedent of the Blood Lion’s Roar, the three stood far apart in the dining hall; Su Nisheng was examining the titanium alloy plates in the dish cabinet.

“We’ve gotten too soft. Back then, at the deep-sea hydrothermal vents, two mouthfuls of organic matter were a luxury.”

Li Cheng set down the space food, lay on the floor, and shoved his upper body into the cabinet. Following the idiot-proof manual on his smart wristwatch, he began repairing the electrical wiring and fluid lines. “These are emergency rations. The butyl rubber seals are chemically inert—they won’t degrade for decades. If a crew member wakes up suddenly, they can use these to fill their stomachs.”

“As for fresher ingredients, we’ll probably have to wait until atmospheric terraforming is complete, or we’ve built artificial farms—or if the base has an automated indoor farm.”

“There is an indoor farm. It just doesn’t show up on the map.”

Su Nisheng said, pulling open the dish cabinet door and retrieving a large handful of gray-white biodegradable cutlery. “These utensils are made from algal cellulose and starch. There are dedicated recycling bins—they decompose ecologically without needing incineration.”

_co

Su Nisheng paused, then said calmly, “There’s a wall between bare hands and armed combat. If we had titanium alloy knives and forks, they could serve as makeshift weapons. Too bad we only have titanium alloy plates.”

..Sis, you’re surprisingly optimistic.

Li Cheng said nothing. Judging by the death of the Blood Lion’s Roar, he strongly doubted that even if every human colonist were armed with a Fangtian Huaji, a Zhanba Shemao, or a Green Dragon Crescent Blade, they could still defeat a space alien variant without base security intervention.

“Still, a plate isn’t bad—it can double as a ballistic plate.”

Dir wasn’t picky. He took a titanium alloy plate from the dish cabinet, strapped it to his chest and abdomen with zip ties, and stuck another one onto his back-mounted life support unit.

Suddenly, he froze, hesitating, “Did you hear...?”

“We heard it.”

Li Cheng crawled out from under the pipes, glanced at the ceiling, and said softly, “The crying inside the pipes.”

Xinxiang Base, middle level, control room.

Edith and Zhongli Mie Ming stood diagonally opposite each other, repairing the fax machine and the printer.

Perhaps due to distrust in the robustness of electronic devices in space and alien environments, the Xinxiang Base kept paper documents—specifically, carbon fiber paper—as backups alongside digital files.

File cabinets were packed with paper records: personnel lists, major equipment maintenance logs, and communication logs with other bases.

All text was laser-engraved with ultra-high precision, so tiny it was invisible to the naked eye—only visible under a microscope.

Unfortunately, most file drawers were locked with mechanical locks. The only open drawer contained a small portion of the ship’s voyage log from before arrival on HD996A: course, speed, fuel consumption, minor meteorite impact incidents, shield repair logs—none of it valuable.

Valkyrie released the microscope, blinked her dry eyes, and suddenly heard something: “Inside the pipes...”

“Someone’s crying.”

Edith and Zhongli Mie Ming pressed their space suit helmets against the wall. A clear, distant, ethereal infant’s wail echoed inside the wall’s internal piping.

Coldness shot from their feet to their skulls. Zhongli Mie Ming quickly glanced at his left mechanical arm—he had installed a life-monitoring hand that could read other repair personnel’s vital signs.

Everyone’s vitals were stable. No one had died. Laughing God and Pifu might be odd and heartless, but they wouldn’t joke in a situation like this... would they?

At most, they’d prank a street beggar by feeding him digestive tablets;

Under the excuse of boycotting the kimono, secretly poke holes in the convenience store’s Okamoto condoms;

On the elevator, mutter under their breath that it’s full, then quietly step away to scare the other passengers;

All kinds of sick, childish pranks...

Wait—why is my thinking aligning with theirs?!

As he pondered, the infant’s wail rapidly drew closer, accompanied by a slapping sound—pat-pat-pat.

Zhongli Mie Ming suddenly realized, snapped his head up, and shouted to Edith across the room: “Get away from the wall!”—before the transformation struck.

The ventilation grille along the baseboard cracked open. A hairless, pink, translucent primate arm seized Edith’s calf.

The primate arm was far thinner than the space suit’s leg, yet its strength was immense.

Edith, caught off guard, was yanked to the ground, half her body forcibly dragged into the ventilation duct—thud!

She grabbed the wall with her left palm; the speaker on her neck emitted a distorted scream: “Help me!”

Zhongli Mie Ming and Valkyrie, standing at the other two corners of the room, dropped their tools and sprinted over, gripping Edith’s arm and kicking desperately against the wall.

But space suit gloves were short, clumsy, and slippery. Their hands slid off. Edith was pulled into the duct and vanished.

Boom!

Two seconds later, a thunderous crash echoed from the duct. Zhongli Mie Ming and Valkyrie, frozen in place, saw a gaping hole blasted open high on the wall—along the same line, the corner of a locked file cabinet split open, and half a broken steel needle protruded from its back.

The attack came from Edith—her armed hand could fire kinetic rounds. But the dragging sound inside the wall was still receding.

“She’s alive.” Zhongli Mie Ming checked the vital signs monitor: Edith’s heart rate had spiked to 180.

“I’m going after her.”

Valkyrie said nothing. She stepped onto the cabinet handle, leapt up, and deployed the magnetic pulley on her left engineering hand. Click. It locked firmly onto the duct’s inner wall. She slid into the ventilation duct.