Chapter 9

Using his see-in-the-dark goggles, Nivens steered around the obstacles between them and took the opportunity to shake Jordy's hand before they both returned to a seated position on the hard, uncovered floor.

"Where exactly are we, sir?" was Jordy's question once they were sitting.

"I've always called this place the 'white elephant graveyard' myself. To be more precise, it's a converted airplane hangar which has been used for the past few years as a storage facility for all types of unused, unwanted, and obsolete equipment. Though you can't see it, around you sits millions of dollars in government expenditures in furnishings, equipment, and technology, set aside and left to gather dust. I imagine we could auction some of it off and earn a pretty penny, but because The Section is a 'black' project, these things will just sit until the day this warehouse fills up, and then we'll either look at burying it in some unknown landfill, or just build another warehouse and start the process all over again."

Jordy nodded, wondering what interesting odds and ends might lie all around him, forgotten but still useful. "Okay, but why here? Are we in any danger of being found?"

"Not unless that thing on your back can lead them to us! The advantage we have in lying low here is that very few personnel who could be infected at this moment even know about this warehouse, and those that do don't have an access code to get through the door. I imagine we have a few more hours before dawn, when the support staff for the base will start arriving en masse; by that time, the slugs will have had time to place themselves in position for a rapid assimilation of personnel. After that, they will likely be more concerned with launching another attempt to take over the world, so any concerted attempt to find us would likely be a low-priority. So, for the moment, our hidey-hole is secure.

"But what worries me, as I said, is whether that thing on your back can lead them to us, perhaps by calling out for help to its fellow parasites." Nivens stopped speaking for a moment, and when he continued, the stress in his voice was palpable. "I... I once was infected by one of those things, and I could feel the connection that each slug had to the rest. If one was in trouble or needed help, it didn't matter how far away you were... you could hear the call inside your mind, and you knew exactly who was nearby and what they were doing. While I believe that you aren't being controlled by the thing on your back, what's to keep it from telling the rest that we are here?"

Jordy pondered the question, trying to condense all his research on the creatures into a short but understandable synopsis. "Sir, have you ever seen one of these things replicate?"

"Yes, son, more than once."

"Then you know that, in general, when the infected host finds a non-infected subject, the replication process begins. Once a new slug is formed, it immediately seeks out a host to bond with. I noticed that in various experiments with these things, the slug always can tell who isn't infected and head right for that person - I expect that it's because there is some sort of emanation given off by an integrated parasite, like a beacon, that tells the unattached slug to move on to someone else.

"The immediate survival of the slug is dependant upon its physical connection with the host body; for example, if an infected host replicates, but the new slug is unable to find a physical host within about 30 minutes, the new slug dies. Without being able to leech onto and suck vital energies from a human or animal body, the slug cannot survive. Yet, through other experiments, it's become clear that these parasites lack some vital abilities until they integrate with a human or other type of host. They are instinctual creatures whose higher level functions are not triggered until their control of the mind is complete. They cannot communicate, cannot fully integrate into the hive mind of their species, cannot even call for help to one of their own... not until their conversion of the host from independent entity to mind-controlled puppet is complete.

"With that in mind, this thing on my back lives only because it physically has integrated itself with my body in order to feed itself. But, because I've found a way to block its assimilation of my mind, it can't become a fully-functional puppeteer; it is, in fact, no more intelligent at this point than a leech or any other parasite. It will work to keep me healthy, because my health is paramount to its own survival - which is one of the reasons it reacted as it did when I inhaled that cigarette smoke. But, without my mental capacity to use for its own nefarious purposes, it cannot do anything except survive.