Research Outpost 45XR Log Files pertaining to “Subject Omega”
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12.1.823, Subject Omega: Log Entry One
Begin Log Entry
The subject was hauled in today, after being seized by our agents on Solarius station. He was quickly neutralized by a stun baton and transported to his holding cell onboard our transport vessel in a mostly intact condition. However, upon our departure from Solarius, the subject awoke in an agitated condition, clawing at any loose parts inside his sealed compartment, looking for a way out, forcing us to saturate his holding cell with a moderate dose of neural gas. This kept the subject in a comatose state throughout the trip and the subsequent transport to his more permanent quarters planetside.
His permanent holding cell has been deemed safe by our personnel, based on the most up-to-date specifications for the containment of infested humans that our agents painstakingly procured from credit-receptive sources inside the Order. The long range examinations are already under way, the scanners will be running around the clock. We intend to learn as much as we can about the subject this way before any interrogation can begin.
-Doctor T.
End Log Entry.
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14.1.823, Subject Omega: Log Entry Two
Begin Log Entry
The scans are mostly complete. The subject was intent on making the process difficult with his incessant pacing, and we were forced to once again saturate his holding cell with a powerful anesthetic gas several times to complete the process.
What we’ve gleaned from these scans is nothing short of amazing. The level of incubus-host integration is greater than any of our previous subjects, indeed, we’ve seen some amazing adaptations during our many forays into the alien nature of the infested, but nothing quite like this. It is almost impossible to tell where one organism ends and the other begins.
The incubus’ original tissue is almost unrecognizable. The part of it that is, has displaced and consumed the cerebellum entirely, now having taken its place and presumably - function. The rest has grown and morphed to encompass the subject’s entire brain, modifying the cerebral cortex to such an extent that most lobes split, their functions rearranged, and are displaying either higher than normal activity or simply, no activity. Most notable of these is the frontal lobe, modified heavily in form and function with exotic tissue. The mammalian brain no longer looks very mammalian at all.
However, deeper in, all similarity to the human brain simply ceases to exist, as the interior of the brain now mostly consists of a cavity filled with a sort of highly viscous fluid and the modified remnants of the basal nuclei, amygdalae and an oversized pair of glands, now sharing heavily altered form and connections to the rest of the brain. Christ, it would take decades to categorize and understand the brain alone, and I intend to do so, but for now - moving on to the rest.
The nervous system, both central and peripheral, has been replaced with exotic tissue growing from the cerebellum down the spinal cord. The changes that this entails are at this point unknown to us.
The internal organs have likewise been changed, and some new ones have been grown, their function at this point mostly speculation. The one new organ whose function we could determine appears to be a second heart, though it remains mostly inactive while the main heart still performs the majority of the function.
The ribcage appears to have mostly fused, creating a sort of protective chest plate to increase the protection of the vital organs beneath.
And last but not least, a subdermal layer of protective tissue and muscle encompasses the entire body, which appears to be heavily integrated with the new nervous system, or - perhaps - as my assistant has theorized - is a part of it.
This is too much, I initially intended to test, compare and dispose of the subject as was the case with the rest - but this one warrants a much longer investigation. We’ll be increasing the containment time to indefinite, even though my peers protest - out of blind fear no doubt - but I won’t be shaken so easily.
Today we attempted psychological evaluation and interrogation. My assistant, Doctor V took it upon herself to perform this task. And indeed, as was the case with the rest of the subjects, Omega proved unreceptive to our methods, remaining callous and distant throughout the ordeal. At least at first. In the next log entry is an attached video file of Doctor V’s session with the subject.
-Doctor T.
End Log Entry
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22.1.823, Subject Omega: Log Entry Four
Begin Log Entry
[Security Video Playback Starts]
(The subject is standing perfectly centered inside his 6 by 6 holding cell, his eyes closed, hands behind his back. A heavily reinforced two-way mirror is obscuring his view of the adjacent chamber. He outwardly appears to be male, caucasian, Late twenties or early thirties, true age indeterminate. He is approximately 195cm tall, of a lean build.)
(Doctor V walks into the chamber and takes a seat facing the subject. The subject’s eyes dart open as if aware of her presence. V. jerks back slightly in her seat, taken aback, but starts speaking after clearing her throat.)
V: “This is Doctor V. We’ve designated you Subject Omega. Can you tell us your name?”
(The subject cocks his head to the right and considers the question for a moment before speaking)
O: “I can.”
(A moment of silence.)
V: “But you won’t...of course.”
- O: “V...That’s not your real name is it? Maybe I’d share mine, if you shared yours. Quid pro Quo, as they say.”
- V: “I’m regrettably not auth-...”
(The subject inhales sharply, stopping V. midsentence)
O: “Oh, but no need. It’s Vivienne is it not? Such a lovely name, Vivienne. It should be a crime to hide it behind the ugly one letter abbreviation. Vivienne, Vivienne….Vivienne...Mmh.”
(Vivienne swallows a nonexistent lump, visibly disturbed for a moment.)
V: “I see guesswork is your forte. Is that your role in your...society? Guesswork?”
(Vivienne smirks, now contently hiding behind the comforting rational explanation she conjured on a moment’s notice)
(The subject thinks for a moment, and then drops his arms from behind his back and stretches around a bit.)
O: “At times. But dear Vivienne - can I call you that? I think I might. I’m not that interesting, you on the other hand, you’re very - very intriguing. Tell me more about yourself. Your childhood, perhaps?”
(As he speaks he assumes a very human-like posture, his mannerisms and facial expressions become animated with a nigh-perfect mimickry of healthy emotion and friendliness, akin to a lively next door neighbor, albeit with a sort of uncanny distance in his eyes, unnoticeable to most, but not Vivienne. This unsettles her deeply. A few moments of silence follow.)
V: “My...childhood? I’m afraid I’m not the subject of this session...And-”
(He interrupts her train of thought with another sharp inhale, striking a nerve, provoking the emotional response she intended to provoke in him. The roles now seem reversed.)
O: “Yes, childhood. The experiences accumulated within that short period of one’s life are ultimately what shapes one’s life, for better or for worse. Don’t you agree, Vivienne? Your childhood is what captures my curiosity right now, I simply -must- know. Good? Or bad? Bad I think...I’m almost sure….there are things buried in there. Memories that don’t surface often...painful memories.”
(Vivienne’s heart starts beating faster. His words hit too close to home. The subject has invaded her personal space, a part of her she never reveals to anyone. Her shock at this violation is apparent on her face.)
V: “Now listen here you-...!”
O: “Yes, very painful indeed. It seethes from you now, I can smell it. It smells of untouched nature, of autumn air and rain and decaying leaves, of paradise lost, sanctuary violated. Who violated your sanctuary, Vivienne? Very bad men, I assume, yes that seems correct. You can tell me what happened yourself, what did the bad men do? Or I can continue to narrate your life for you if you prefer, you’ll find my…”guesswork” tends to be very precise indeed.”
(A smile spreads across the subject’s face, though the smile doesn’t speak of any kind of human joy, rather a perverse thrill he seems to derive from probing the young doctor’s mind. A kind of thirst to know and by proxy, experience her life. His eyes occasionally dart to Vivienne’s position, as if aware of her through some extrasensory mechanism far beyond that of normal humans.)
(Vivienne would speak, but she can only look in horror, her face locked in a blank expression, sweat breaking out of her forehead. He knows, somehow he knows what she never told anyone.)
O: “You’re oddly quiet doctor. Shall I continue then? I think I shall. Gran Canaria. Now that was a truly splendid place, not so much these days as I understand it, but it used to be quite the proverbial paradise. I shall always treasure my few visits there.
Have you ever been? I think you’d agree with me, dear Vivienne. As a matter of fact, I highly suspect you’ve been there, you have that...air about you. I think you used to live there, as a child. Yes, that seems right.
Now the only thing really bad with Canaria was the security, those Zoners really love their liberty, so they sacrifice some of the former for the latter. Understandable I guess. But that allowed for much lawlessness, and indeed for a time, bandits became common. They’d raid settlements you see, engaging in senseless murder and rapine.
Were you aware of that? Actually...I think you were intimately acquainted…”
(His last few words are spoken through a stranger voice, now growing in severity as compared to his falsely innocent, lively voice from before. His mouth forms into a wide grin for a moment, he appears to relish what is transpiring.)
(The doctor is still firmly locked in her chair with the same expression on her face, mouth open, tears now welling up in her eyes.)
O: “You’re old enough to have experienced it, certainly. It must have been terrible, I can see it now...a young girl hiding beneath her floorboards, put there by her mother now being taken...then taken away by the bandits...the young girl looking through the cracks...in disbelief and abject terror, struggling to not make a sound....Do you dream about it often? Perhaps...even fantasize about it? It would be understandable - the mind creates-”
(Vivienne jerks up from her seat)
V: “SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”
(She storms out through the door, hysterical. The subject chuckles for a moment, then returns to his normal unemotional, bland expression. A trickle of blood pours from his nose, he seems mildly annoyed at it, but not surprised, he wipes it quickly with his hand and returns to his original position at the center of the room, putting his hands behind his back, closing his eyes.)
[Security Video Playback Ends]
This...this thing is pure evil. There’s nothing but malice inside it. I recommend it be destroyed...by incinerator and its ashes spread across the sands of this God-forsaken planet. If you still insist on keeping it alive then take this damn recording and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine! I quit!
-Doctor V.
End Log Entry
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--Addendum: Poor Vivienne, I empathize with her, but she knows I can’t do that. Oh well, I guess I can offer to “relocate” her to Wing X, the human trials department always needs fresh “resources”.
An incident occurred today. Or rather, a series of minor incidents over the course of the previous months that culminated in this major incident today. I think what has transpired before should be logged, for context to what happened today.
Five months ago, the subject requested an increase in his food rations. He explained that his unique condition demands more caloric intake, as compared to a normal human. I tried to bargain with the subject, demanding answers for this boon. He said that he would take it under consideration and ask for me once he had decided. Somehow I thought he wouldn’t agree, it was the look he gave me for a split second, one that made it clear he didn’t appreciate being manipulated.
Four months ago, one of the guards stationed outside Subject Omega’s holding cell started to complain of headaches, nosebleeds, insomnia, generalized anxiety and depression. However, even after extensive examinations and trials, nothing was found to be amiss physically. His health was in perfect condition, so we assumed that his symptoms must be psychosomatic in nature. It’s only natural that some might crack in these conditions, Deidus isn’t exactly a postcard destination.
The guard was sent to the psychiatric unit, the doctor confined him to his quarters and the leisure area for several weeks. Five days in, he committed suicide. He stuck an antique handgun up his mouth and pulled the trigger. His brain was left splattered on the wall behind him. The stain looked like a Rorschach inkblot. Reminded me of a butterfly. Some whispered it was Omega’s fault, I chose to ignore these notions.
Two months ago, most of the staff in this wing started displaying similar symptoms. Two more suicides occurred, this time the quartermaster and his assistant were the victims. They left the outpost’s airlock and exposed themselves to the elements outside. They perished within seconds. Measures were since taken that this cannot be repeated. At this point, I decided to entertain the notion of Omega’s involvement, however unlikely it may seem, partly because I was also beginning to experience the symptoms.
When I accused him, the subject made only the slightest effort to deny his involvement. He expressed his deepest sympathies and emphasized that he strongly believes this will all soon come to pass, when - he could not say for sure - but he felt strongly that it will coincide with the time I allowed his increased food rations. He would pray for our wellbeing he said. Bastard. I caved in naturally, my instinct for self-preservation kicking in, and sure enough, the symptoms stopped manifesting in both myself and the rest of the staff.
Obviously, I could not afford to be kept hostage by the subject, so I called for a station-wide meeting to discuss what could be done. And indeed, after a month we concluded that he must be isolated further. Some scientists theorized that whatever mechanism he uses to affect the crew could be neutralized by placing him inside a lead-lined chamber. The details of this theory I won’t describe here, it would simply take too long. We couldn’t afford the time to explore further options, and the lead-lined cell was completed some two days ago.
Today, we attempted to move him. We administered the usual anesthetic into his cell’s closed environment, and he, per usual - dropped to the floor, seemingly unconscious. The nurses and guards unlocked his cell and proceeded to retrieve him. We were complacent, we did not anticipate that with repeated exposure to the gas, he would develop a sort of tolerance. As they moved in to lift him to the hammock, he suddenly jerked into consciousness. Agitated, he attacked the closest nurse, the rest fled. He ripped open her jugular with his bare teeth. The guards attempted to restrain him, he fought them off effortlessly, breaking one’s spine and the arms and legs of the other, both open fractures.
He was only subdued when reinforcements arrived and shot him repeatedly with dart guns that delivered doses of carfentanyl. Christ, one dose would have been sufficient to knock out an elephant for a few hours. Afterward, we managed to move him to the lead-lined room, he’s still sleeping in there. All we can do now is hope the theory was right.
The Rheinland authorities have gotten wind of this installation and have sent an ultimatum. They want us to turn over all the research and all the specimens in exchange for our lives. After all these years of painstaking work in life-threatening conditions, I have to throw it all away. It was all for nothing. I won't get the credit that is due to me, my name will be lost to history. Oh, the indignity.
This is especially infuriating now that we've confirmed our lead container theory. Omega's influence and the psychic malaise that accompanied it hasn't resurfaced. And now we have to ship him off to some Rheinlandic buffoons that couldn't possibly exploit his condition to its truest potential! Only I could do that!
[audible sigh]
At least I, I mean we - get out of this deal alive. Some other organizations wouldn't have been so kind. Maybe I could even restart the operation at some point...yes, I have time, I'm barely over seventy. Yes, yes! That's what I'll do. And next time I'll be ready.
The lead lined container is seen centered in the storage area of a Stork-class transport, the first two hours of the recording are uneventful save for the two guards in front of it, conversing in muffled tone. One of them is tapping his foot and looking around nervously.
[2:22:13] Doctor T. walks into the hold. He paces around for a few minutes, barks some instructions at the guards and walks out of the frame.
[2:53:20] The nervous guard grows increasingly more erratic, periodically unholstering his gun and looking around as if he was seeing things. The other guard retains his composure but occasionally glances over to his colleague.
[3:11:30] The guard now goes completely berserk seemingly without provocation. He draws his handgun and shoots his slow to react colleague straight to the head. He then proceeds to input a series of codes into the lead container's control panel.
[3:20:40] The chamber's doors open with a crash. The guard takes a few steps back, puts his gun into his mouth and pulls the trigger. He drops to the floor in a rather spectacular manner.
[3:21:03] Some artifacts in the recording appear as static. The recording clears and the subject is emerging from the cell. More static interrupts the video feed. The feed clears again, and the subject is standing in the center of the hold. The subject turns his head right and up and looks straight at the camera. Static. Video feed ends.
