A harsh, metallic groan echoed through the dense hull of an abandoned space station. Across its gargantuan hull, the word 'NOROASTRUM' was emblazoned, though the once stark white paint had long since weathered and lost its luster in the dim light of the nearby red dwarf star. This was a sight that Chrys had come to see many times before.
Defunct manufacturing plants, resource silos, orbital mining colonies and black site laboratories; the relics of a bygone era of unregulated stellar growth. From the cockpit of her Reclamation-class vessel, she sat in the midst of a debris field that hung within the Noroastrum's gravitational field, maintaining a safe distance so as not to collide with any of the larger bits of salvage.
The two-bit bounty hunter had just returned from an expedition into the station itself, the mission being to retrieve a holodisk of data from the Noroastrum's central banks, information which the previous owners had a vested interest in seeing destroyed. The station's history was decades in the making, as nearly forty years ago it served as a forward operating laboratory for xeno-biological studies under a massive interstellar conglomerate, Stellar Paradigm Synergies (SPS). At a time when corporations ruled the stars, the most dubious and questionable of scientific endeavors were pursued on the outskirts of known space, and here in the Noroastri system the SPS had ventured to produce the most cutting-edge technological advancements in xeno-biology and gene splicing, only for the station to be abandoned over the course of Paradigm's dissolution.
Chrys' venture into the station had been harrowing, hours spent navigating the laboratories and manufactured habitats, fending off the plethora of escaped specimens that now ruled solely over the station. Had it not been for her compact evo-suit, she would've no doubt fallen prey to the strange machinations of some of those incessant creatures. She had succeeded in her mission, the holodisk was now in her possession, and she need only to calculate her navigation out of this derelict system to receive payment for a job well done. Of course, the coordinates for said rendezvous would first need to be sent.
As she set her gaze through the window of her craft, settled in her cushioned captain's chair, she would at last reach up to unclasp the latches of her evo-suit's helmet and pull it off, eager to breathe without the aid of a respirator. Her raven black ponytail draped loosely down behind her; for a space-born human, Chrys was perhaps average in all but her looks and the shapely proportions of her body, with pale skin and dark brown, almond shaped eyes that were often half-obscured by her bangs. Even in the relative safety of her ship, she would usually default to the snug comfort of her evo-suit, the slate gray material accentuating all the curves of her body from the significant swell of her breasts to the slight pinch at her waist, and the cushion of her rear and thighs.
After placing her helmet aside, she picked up the transmitter next to the main console, tuning to the frequency her employers had given her before she held the communicator to her soft, slightly pouted lips.
"This is Albatross." She began, utilizing her codename. "Package secured. Awaiting rendezvous coordinates for delivery. Please respond ASAP."
Her employers cared little for her time, and would likely remain radio silent for another hour to ensure there were no phantom spectators monitoring the frequency. Typical, she couldn't help but think, rolling her eyes as she watched the Noroastrum with a slight sense of anxiety. Her fingers tapped on the arm of her seat, legs crossing and uncrossing as the seconds tick into minutes. Why was she feeling so cagey? The nature of the things on the station had put her quite on-edge, in retrospect. They were insectoids, the outlawing of which had come in the wake of countless species being designed for the most inhuman of purposes; the ones she encountered most frequently were arachnoid, little flat-bodied and chitinous spiders with long tails.
Given the nature of the databanks on the station, she was able to unearth some of the developmental notes from the scientists who had bred those things, and the breadth of their experimentation had shaken her. Creatures designed specifically for reproduction with humans, specifically to incapacitate their hosts and promote their own constant, fervorous propagation. Made to latch onto their targets, finding any orifice that they might slide their ovipositors into, administering fluids laced with a chemical cocktail that would render their victims practically catatonic and addicted to their vile run-off...
It drove her stomach to churn, thinking about how one of them had leapt onto her helmet as she had gunned her way through a swarm of them. Its legs latched on, and she was made to watch as the unsightly sheath on its underside split and its grotesque, lengthy alien member plunged out, as if seeking her lips. So potent was the things stench that she could almost smell it through her helmet! Her evo-suit's regenerative fabric quickly mended itself as the swarm slashed and tore, its systems thankfully not failing even as she knew in the aftermath it would need recalibration. For once, she had cursed herself for not wearing anything underneath the suit itself, though she reasoned anything that was worn underneath wouldn't have saved her if her suit's systems had failed in the end.
There had to have been thousands, and she knew that somewhere in that station, there were probably looters and salvagers who had fallen into their nests and added to the unseen droves of incubators that would've facilitated such numbers. The more she dwelled on it, the more she began to stir, brow furrowing as she silently wished for some way to destroy this lumbering monstrosity of a space station and know those horrors were exterminated from the universe permanently. She wasn't sure why her employers hadn't done as much themselves, if they intended to keep this place's very existence under wraps. Perhaps they still had a vested interest in the awful things that dwell there; the idea made her sick.
After a beat, her eyes widened. She...was feeling somewhat ill. Not just from her thoughts, but from something else, her mouth pooling with warm saliva as she sat up in her chair. Something was wrong.