At the end of the corridor, a massive door slid open sideways.
Intricate gene helix emblems were engraved across the door panels, each line testifying to the Kaminoans' supreme devotion to genetic engineering.
As the opening widened, a distinct scent—part antiseptic, part deep-sea minerals—washed over the group.
Bright light flooded out from within, illuminating a tall Kaminoan female standing at the center of the room.
Time had etched its presence into the pale gray hue of her skin, yet it had failed to diminish the innate grace she carried. Only her eyeless gaze betrayed the tension buried beneath her composure—an anxious gleam flickering in those deep, pupil-less eyes.
"Mr. Kennedy." Her voice was composed, her slender right hand reaching forward. "Thank you for arriving so promptly. I am Suur Yi, current Prime Minister of the United Kaminoan City-States."
"It's our duty."
Leon stepped forward and shook her hand, subtly noting the slight tremble in her palm—a sign of tension held in check.
As they released hands, Suur Yi turned toward the central holoprojector. Her long fingers danced across the interface.
"There's no time to waste. Look at this."
With a sharp motion, thirty-seven live surveillance feeds from the affected cloning chambers flared into view, casting the entire room in a ghostly blue. The flickering light gave the space the feel of a deep-sea tomb.
What the footage revealed hardened Leon's expression.
The clone bodies, which should've been dormant in nutrient fluid, were now undergoing grotesque mutations.
Muscle tissue writhed like living organisms. Bones twisted and grew at unnatural angles.
In one pod, a clone's bloated head turned slowly, and what should have been eye sockets had split into four red slits. In another, a spine had pierced through flesh and unfurled into a fan-shaped bony protrusion.
Leon's brow creased. He recognized these symptoms.
They matched perfectly with case files from the Inquisition: Chaos-tainted corruption turning clone units into abhorrent "chaos eggs."
He didn't need lab results. The conclusion was already obvious.
"Someone among your people has already fallen to Chaos," Leon said after a pause. "And they're actively attempting to spread the infection."
Suur Yi nodded. "You are correct. Two hours ago, one of our geneticists voluntarily reported an anomaly. He said he heard 'whispers,' promising genetic knowledge beyond anything Kamino has developed."
There was anger buried beneath her voice. "Fortunately, he retained his reason and reported it—but if corruption has taken root…"
"…Then others have already chosen to hide it," Leon finished, eyes drifting back to the writhing clones. "Chaos never tempts just one. It infects the weak-willed first… and spreads through them."
"Mr. Kennedy, how much time do you think we have?"
Leon was silent for several seconds. Then he responded, measured and calm.
"The Human Empire has already detected Warp anomalies near the Kamino sector. We've prepared accordingly. A task force from our Sons of the Wounded legion will arrive within twelve hours at the latest."
That surprised Suur Yi—but only briefly.
She understood perfectly: if the Empire's fleet intervened, Kamino's current 'partner' status would shift to that of a full subordinate.
But still, compared to the former Galactic Empire, the Human Empire was more structured—still hegemonic, yes, but their priorities were clear: protect their citizens first, unlike the tyrannical chaos of the old regime.
So she gave a nod. "Then we entrust ourselves to the Human Empire—for now."
Leon gave a short nod in return, then looked toward Chirrut Îmwe.
"Until the fleet arrives, we need to root out the traitor still hiding among you."
The blind Force adept nodded slightly, fingers brushing over his lightsaber hilt. As his eyes closed, the lighting in the room seemed to dim as though the Force itself were drawing inward.
A pressure filled the air—subtle but undeniable.
To Chirrut's heightened perception, the tainted cloning pods glowed in the Force like rotting wounds. But worse still, there was something else—another source of corruption.
His brow furrowed. His voice came like a whisper through deep waters.
"There is more than just these… There is another cloud of darkness. Not in the labs—but…"
He turned his blind eyes toward a specific direction.
"…in the residential zone. Someone is welcoming the corruption willingly."
Tension spiked across the room.
Leon turned to Jerome. "Jerome, take the Spartans and assist Master Îmwe. Find the source."
"Yes, sir," came the Spartan's filtered reply.
Suur Yi immediately brought up a full holographic map, marking off a red circle over a residential sector. "This is our senior researcher housing block. If the corrupted one is there, they may try to access the primary gene vault."
"Then we can't wait. Prime Minister, I need you to revoke all access to the genetic database. Lock it down. And prepare isolation protocols. If the templates are infected, the corruption could spread system-wide."
Without hesitation, Suur Yi began issuing orders to her guards.
Meanwhile, Chirrut and the five Spartans exited the Prime Minister's hall and followed their helmet map overlays toward the marked zone.
Leon stayed behind. With the Spartans on it, there was no need for him to engage directly—yet.
The team advanced quickly through dimly lit corridors.
Jerome and Douglas led the vanguard. Chirrut followed, guided by the Force. Alice and Ko'r took the flanks. Malon brought up the rear.
They passed multiple sealed gates and checkpoints before arriving at Kamino's residential zone—a massive enclosed city beneath the sea.
Beyond the transparent dome ceiling lay an eternal, pitch-black ocean. Occasionally, colossal glowing creatures swam past, casting eerie shadows.
The city's layout was ruthlessly efficient. Floating platforms formed multi-tiered streets, connected by crystal-clear bridges.
No vendors. No chatter. No decorations.
Only signs and holographic arrows.
This was life engineered by and for Kaminoans: cold, precise, sterile.
It was midnight. The city slept.
No lights from windows. No passersby. No nightlife.
Only silence.
As the Spartans entered the perimeter, they noticed clone guards already in position.
Some entrances were cordoned off. Troopers stood in the shadows, ensuring no one slipped in or out.
The target building had been quietly evacuated. It stood like a deserted husk.
Jerome's voice came through comms. "Area secured."
Chirrut nodded faintly. The corruption was here—thick as oil in the Force. It coiled around a particular upper floor.
"Upstairs," he said, pointing upward. "It's gathering there."
Without a word, the team moved. Tactical formation. Weapons ready.
The automatic doors opened silently, revealing dim emergency lighting and a strange blue hue throughout the hall.
They took the emergency stairwell.
Their MJOLNIR boots made no sound.
Chirrut moved calmly among them, lightsaber hilt gripped tightly.
With every step, the air felt heavier.
Douglas's scanner read plummeting temperatures. Moisture was forming on the walls.
Ko'r's voice came through. "Life signs detected—down the hall. They're distorted."
Jerome raised a hand. Everyone froze.
His HUD confirmed a lifeform inside the target apartment—but it no longer matched Kaminoan parameters. Muscle density was extreme. Body temperature was far too low.
Chirrut opened his eyes.
"It's no longer a person."
Everyone understood.
They repositioned, disabled safeties. Aimed at the door.
Chirrut took a breath. Lightsaber held across his chest. Thumb on the switch.
Then Jerome slammed his gauntleted fist into the lock—
BOOM—!!
The metal door crumpled and burst open.
But as Jerome stepped inside—reality shifted.
Gravity bent. His body was yanked up and pinned to the ceiling by unseen force.
MJOLNIR servos screamed in protest. HUD flickered. Sensors failed. The room became chaos.
Thick black fog spilled from the corners and devoured all light.
To those outside—it was as if Jerome had been swallowed.
His vitals on the team HUD turned red.
"Jerome?!" Douglas barked into comms—but only static replied.
Malon raised his Gauss gun. Ko'r held him back. Blind fire in a psyker zone could be catastrophic.
Then—
WHUMMMM—
Green light surged as a lightsaber ignited. Its glow cut through the darkness, revealing Chirrut's solemn face.
"I'll handle this," he said, stepping forward.
His saber carved a protective arc as he crossed the threshold.
The black fog recoiled at the blade's touch, hissing as it burned.
Chirrut twirled his saber, forming a net of purifying energy in the dark.
Behind the vanishing fog, Jerome still hung upside down—struggling.
At the center of the room, a monster hovered.
Its Kaminoan robe was soaked with slime. Its head had swollen to three times its original size.
Nine asymmetrical blue eyes blinked across a cracked skull. When it saw the lightsaber—
"Ah… slave of the Force…"
Chirrut ignored the blasphemy.
With a flick, his saber flew from his hand, slicing through three tentacle-like limbs that had kept Jerome bound.
The fog vanished.
The walls revealed a blood-drawn octagram—a Chaos sigil, source of the room's distortion.
"Knowledge… is the stairway to truth…" the creature gurgled, warping space around its fingers. "I have seen the other shore of the gene sea…"
SHHHK—
The saber returned to Chirrut's hand. In one fluid motion, it decapitated the mutant.
No blood. Only black ichor glittering like stardust.
The body collapsed.
"Back!" Chirrut shouted at Jerome.
Then he drove his saber into the sigil on the wall.
The entire building shuddered.
All remaining fog—and the corpse—were sucked into the mark, which then slowly faded.
As if an unseen hand were wiping away filth.
Silence fell.
Order, for now, was restored.
(End of Chapter)
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