#canivetes

[random-brushstrokes]

Léon Louis Canivet - Paris, Gare d'Orsay, Quays Of The Seine And Grand Palais (ca. 1900)

[lavender-nightjar]

Canivet's emerald

[alonglistofbirds]

[2029/11056] Canivet's emerald - Cynanthus canivetii

Order: Apodiformes Family: Trochilidae Subfamily: Trochilinae

Photo credit: Ana Paula Oxom via Macaulay Library

[birds-that-screm]

Canivet's Emerald (Cynanthus canivetii)

© Mercedes Alpizar

[mwolf0epsilon]

The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 30: Coma

Summary: The Republic loses Umbara, and the 501st nearly lose Tup. Somehow, both of these things make a world of change even if at the moment all hope seems lost.

Warning: N/A

Twitch belongs to @gaeasun Pitch and Tacet belong to @lost-on-kamino Sol and Constelación belong to @milfcutlawquane

Here's what Tup and Dogma currently look like!

Prev / Next

[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

The next few hours were a complete blur.

Between General Kenobi going through all of the infected troopers once more to make sure the parasites remained dormant, followed by him then absconding off to initiate negotiations with the Umbaran Generals, and finally the 501st medical squad messaging them with coordinates that would lead to the medical facility, there hadn't really been much time to stop and think.

And honestly, that was more of a blessing than a curse.

Because if Canivete were given the opportunity to sit down and really ponder on what she'd been told. Ponder on just what exactly Tacet had found out while investigating the comms issues. Then she might just break down crying.

And that wouldn't be helpful to anyone, now would it?

To think she'd lost a batcher to outright malice, rather than the 'unfortunate accident' it had been listed as. It broke her heart. Her little baby brother who hadn't even picked a name...

The thought haunted her more than the nights of shore leave where she'd spend her time sitting in front of a sealed door in the Jedi Temple. Listening to Abby's body breaking and changing into forms unsightly. Speaking to them in the hopes something of her youngest sibling could still understand her. Could still feel the love their ori'vod had for them...

Haunted her even more than when Peel would wake up in a cold sweat and run away from the barracks. Pacing down the halls like a caged animal searching for a way to break out of its prison. Digging his nails into his bare arms, and turning suddenly as he listened to the flow of energy that was muted to her and the rest of the vode, but not to him. Listening to it, because otherwise he'd be lost in thoughts that tormented him because of something well beyond his control.

But there was still hope for Abstract and Peel.

Sometimes Abby would respond to her words. Whisper back short words that sounded off but that were full of affection.

Sometimes Peel would tell her about his nightmares. Whisper his insecurities and fears and take comfort in knowing he at least had her to confide in.

The second eldest, the nameless brother who only had his number, had no hope left at all. His body undoubtedly lost in space within a Venator that had been taken over by Seppie Droids. Never to be reclaimed. Canivete would never be able to properly mourn him.

All because of Pong karking Krell...

"Cani..." She startled, looking up from where she'd been scrubbing her skin raw. Having spaced out when she'd been kitting up for surgery and gone to wash her hands.

Looking over her shoulder, she spotted Sponge who was certainly worse for wear but still a sight for sore eyes. The other medic's face covered in bacta patches, and the medical scrubs looked puffed out where thick bandaging had been wrapped around their torso, arms and legs.

Despite the injuries they'd suffered, they were back on their feet preparing themselves to perform surgery after surgery to remove the parasites from all of the infected vode.

Currently however, they were staring intently at her.

"I'm finished. Just..." She shook her head, trying to ignore what was eating away at her. Choke down the grief. "Just need to put on some gloves and then I'll be good to go..."

"You don't have to do this. There are 10 other medics available right now, myself included." Sponge offered, motioning to themselves and then shrugging. "The truce is in full effect and the supply ships have touched down. We have everything we need..."

"I want to help." Cani shook her head again. "I... I have to help."

"No you don't. Not really..." Sponge sighed, one hand still very much behind their back while the other rested on their hip. "I can tell you're hurting."

"No, you don't understand." Cani insisted. "I have to help. Otherwise I'll... I'll..."

"Believe me, I do understand..." Sponge looked away. That familiar glint of sorrow reflected back at her, in just the way their eyes looked shiny and wet. They too were often put down by one loss they'd never recovered from.

She'd made the mistake of hurting them once, she wouldn't do it again. Not when she valued their trust.

"....I know you do. I just... I can't think about it now." Canivete sighed sadly. What a life they both lived. The tragedy of the medics. "The vode need me. Need us."

"They do..." Sponge conceded, moving over to offer her a pair of clean gloves that they'd been hiding behind their back. "Promise me once this is done, that you'll board the next ship out of here."

"....I promise."

And she did. After the vode were free, she'd finally retire back to the Negotiator and let herself break open in the company of her friends. Right now, however, she had a job to do and she intended to be diligent about it. The more medics they had in service, the faster they'd get through every trooper.

-

The Resolute was silent once it departed from Umbaran space. Not a soul made a single sound, aside from the usual announcement that they were making the jump to hyperspace. In the end there simply wasn't much to say. Not now at least. So the quiet had settled like a soothing blanket over a sleeping babe.

Not the calm before the storm, rather, the calm after it had passed.

Aside from the noiselessness, one other thing was evidently different than usual: There were a few troopers of the 212th present among the 501st rank. Something which Obi-wan had allowed, as a means to comfort those who had been irreversibly affected by the parasitic infection they'd suffered.

Not everyone who had joined had batchers in the 501st, but they certainly felt the camaraderie between both battalions and simply wanted to offer a shoulder to cry on. Others who did indeed have batchers, even if they had not been infected, sought to stick to their vode's side. Both celebrating their survival, and taking the time to appreciate that which they had taken for granted not too long ago.

It was not just Obi-wan and Anakin who needed to have an important talk about their bonds, after all.

Pitch watched quietly from the safety of his (excessively) padded out bunk, Tacet snoozing lightly by his side while their limbs were a slight tangle. Datapad (hosting a delightfully silly cartoon holofilm, about a tiny fish who becomes a nautolan girl to live with a young twi'lek boy who rescued her from a bottle) all but forgotten among the sheets while Pitch raked his fingers over his sibling's scalp.

Vodepiles were wonderful things really. Only a tiny quarter of all of the clone population was averse to them (and often it was because they were uncomfortable being touched due to very specific circumstances that were better left unmentioned). But sometimes what he really craved was to cuddle up with a single vod. Just like he and his batchers had sometimes done on Kamino, after one of them had a particularly bad day during training.

Back then piling up openly would have been far too dangerous, so they had taken turns. Covered for one another. It was as nostalgic as it was reassuring. A safety blanket of sorts.

In other bunks, different troopers had both similar setups or differing configurations they'd decided upon. It wasn't a proper gigantic pile like it was common to see after a battalion that had gone through a particularly grueling campaign, but it was a familiar sight all the same.

Lich and PB, for example, had curled up together in the former's bunk while practically cocooned in a blanket. Not quite asleep but also not fully awake. The longer haired trooper counting the odd number of scales dotted all around his older brother's face, while the other got used to the idea of cuddling his sibling with an extra set of limbs to call his own. Both looked very content.

A few feet away, Sponge and Coric were full on snoring on a mattress that had been haphazardly placed on the floor. Beau lay between them, her tail wagging away as Twitch (who was sitting besides the mattress, on a cushion someone had stolen from the officer's lounge) gently pet her. The younger medic had a look of pure wonder on his face, as the barghest responded to his affection with a gentle lick or two. He'd been more than a little enthused to meet Sponge's animal companion once he'd finally learned about her existence.

In his own top bunk, Kix sat with both of his batchmates while carefully changing Hardcase's bandages. Listening to Jesse sleepily mumbling away the things that had transpired while they'd been separated. The more hyperactive of the trio was holding a datapad that had some kind of comedy series playing on it, to keep him distracted long enough for the medic to be done with him.

In a more secluded corner of the room, Canivete had fallen asleep with Peel clinging to her back while her head rested on Sol's lap. The latter carefully brushing away the tear tracks that the grieving medic had left while whispering softly to his sister, Constelación. Both had managed to escape Umbara unscathed. By the skin of their teeth, the sunny dispositioned lieutenant had proclaimed.

Caramba and Azulejo were both sitting with them, making plans on what sort of cosmetic changes they could help the transformed vode make, to help them feel a little more like themselves. A new haircut here, a dye job there, some tattoos and piercings as well... They took in whatever feedback Sol and Constelación had to offer, since they themselves had experience with adding visually stunning aesthetics to make visible mutations seem like less of a big deal.

All around, wherever Pitch's eyes could see, vode were just being themselves. For once completely at peace.

In truth, this was the only sort of domesticity allowed to the clones. Sharing in the few quiet moments that they were spared while resting. It was never really enough time, but it was just about enough to relish in the presence and companionship of their siblings.

Relishing in the only constant of their tragically short lives.

A very bittersweet and rather finite moment, considering the circumstances of their mere existence. The purpose of their being. But one Pitch chose to enjoy all the same.

Something big would come out of this, out of abandoning Umbara to the whims of whomever might take it. But for now, the blue-haired medic really couldn't care. He had enough on his plate. So he chose to close his eyes instead, and let himself sink into blissful unconsciousness.

-

Trusting Fives to keep an eye on the twins, Rex carefully got out of his seat and up onto sore feet. He gave the room a brief once-over, grateful for the great number of empty medical cots in spite of all of the horrific things that had transpired during the campaign.

Quietly, with feather light toes, the Captain left the medbay.

There were duties he could not leave unattended for much longer. Reports that had to be made of what happened planet-side, casualties to be listed, spare supplies to be counted, and many other logistics nightmares that, in all honesty, he was dragging his feet over.

As he walked along the silent halls, Rex doubted his presence was all that comforting to the ARC trooper or to Dogma. In fact he doubted they'd notice him leaving at all, since the two were far too busy keeping vigil over Tup's bedside. Something which he couldn't blame them for.

The procedure had worked flawlessly on Dogma, Cody and every other infected trooper. Each parasite perishing and carefully extracted from where they'd connected themselves to the spinal chord of their hosts. The effects of the removal immediately noticeable to those who stood by them as they woke up.

Unfortunately the same could not be said for patient zero. Where everyone else had woken up after surgery, Tup had not. A coma. The rookie had fallen into a coma. His body having simply taken too big of a hit to bounce back as easily as everyone else had.

That sadly meant the poor kih'vod would need a much longer time to recover completely. And, as foolish as it was to give false hope, the medics didn't have the heart to tell Dogma that his twin might never actually wake up.

Not that Rex blamed them. The kid had already suffered enough...

Now that he was all on his own, alone with his thoughts, Rex knew for sure that Umbara had undoubtedly killed something in him. Granted he wasn't exactly sure what, but he certainly didn't feel like he was the same man that had first landed on that gods forsaken planet.

He couldn't be, when things had gone so disastrously wrong and he'd done so little to actually keep everyone safe. And that had left him pretty shaken up, especially when he'd gotten some rather distressing insight into just what exactly they'd been dealing with.

He should have guessed, really. The signs were there. But you know what they say about hindsight in the end...

That said, the one thing he knew for sure was that he was tired. Very very tired. But, as mentioned before, there was work to do and Rex was not one to shirk his duties. Even if all he wanted to do was curl up in his cot and press his face into a pillow until his eyes stopped burning, and his heart stop trying to beating its way out of his painfully tight chest.

He'd failed as a Captain and as a brother. And that was not something he could forgive himself for. Not something that should be easily forgiven at all.

Usually, when he was feeling like this, Rex would turn to Cody for guidance and support. Would ask his wise ori'vod what to do. But Cody had a lot to deal with himself, especially considering he was likely to suffer greatly thanks to the mutations he'd undergone.

Be scrutinized by the natborn officers of the GAR, and seen as even lesser than a clone, because of what the parasite had done to his body. Twisted and transformed into a form many would consider monstrous or even disgusting (it hadn't escaped anyone's notice how some of the vode and natborn personnel on board had flinched away from the infected on first glance).

It wouldn't be fair for Rex to pile his own issues onto his brother who'd suffered even more than he, without ever compromising his moral integrity. But he needed to talk to someone... Anyone...

Locking the door to his quarters and taking hold of his personal datapad, Rex stared at his contacts as he felt the sadness, rage and anxiety begin to set in in full.

Should he talk to Bly who had always been the best when it came to dealing with your feelings? Should he go to Wolffe who understood the burning rage that came with surviving great injustices? Should he go to Gree who was often reserved but a good listener?

His finger hovered over the screen, momentarily still as he took deep shuddering breaths. His vision blurring as tears began to pool in his eyes. Making it hard for him to even discern the names of the commanders he'd looked up to all his childhood. Who'd taken him in when he'd began to fall behind.

Then, after clearing his vision a bit, he made his choice and pressed on one very particular name. The longest minute of his life passed, before the call was accepted.

"It's 03:00. Someone better be dead." The ruby red helmet that greeted him had been put on sloppily, since part of the wearer's chin was still very visible, but Rex recognized the tired glower that was most definitely hidden beneath it.

He'd either woken up his brother or caught him during a very late shift. That particular tone was one he was very familiar with after all.

"F-Fox..." He choked out, unable to contain the sobs anymore. He was so tired and felt so weak. Everything had been his fault and he didn't know how to fix it.

All at once, the Marshal Commander's demeanor changed. His body language softened, but his tone remained cold and straight to the point. Rex recognized the concern behind it all the same. Fox may seem frigid and distant, but he was nothing if not the most loving and caring of the commanders. Something which he hid to everyone's benefit but his own.

"What happened?"

Feeling safe, despite the fact he was coming apart at the seams, Rex began to recount the atrocities that the 501st and 212th had gone through. And from behind the screen, Fox silently seethed as he listened to his little brother cry and despair.

And with that last little domino set in motion on the grand Rube Goldberg machine, the chessboard toppled over. The pieces no longer attached to their strings.

[shiningcottoncandylove]

☆ strawberry switchblade ☆

[gothhcake]

[guicute-l]

ᴏɪɪɪɪ sᴇᴊᴀᴍ ʙᴇᴍ ᴠɪɴᴅᴏs(ᴀs) >.<.

ᴇᴜ ǫᴜᴇʀᴏ ғᴀᴢᴇʀ ᴜᴍᴀs ᴘᴏsᴛᴀɢᴇɴs sᴏʙʀᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴏʟᴇᴄ̧ᴀ̄ᴏ ᴅᴇ ᴄᴀɴɪᴠᴇᴛᴇs ᴇ ғᴀᴄᴀs ǫᴜᴇ ᴇᴜ ᴛᴇɴʜᴏ/ɪʀᴇɪ ᴛᴇʀ, ᴀᴄʜᴏ ᴄᴀɴɪᴠᴇᴛᴇs ᴇ ғᴀᴄᴀs ᴀʀᴍᴀs ʙᴏɴɪᴛᴀs, ᴄᴀᴅᴀ ᴜᴍᴀ ᴛᴇᴍ ᴜᴍᴀ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴄ̧ᴀ̄ᴏ ᴅɪғᴇʀᴇɴᴛᴇ :ᴅ.

ᴇssᴀ ᴘʀɪᴍᴇɪʀᴀ ᴇʀᴀ ᴅᴀ ᴍɪɴʜᴀ ᴍᴀ̄ᴇ, ᴍᴀs ᴄᴏᴍᴏ ᴇʟᴀ ɴᴀ̄ᴏ ᴜsᴀᴠᴀ ᴛᴀɴᴛᴏ ᴇssᴇ ᴄᴀɴɪᴠᴇᴛᴇ, ᴇᴜ ᴀᴄᴀʙᴇɪ ᴘᴇɢᴀɴᴅᴏ ᴘʀᴀ ᴍɪᴍ, ᴇᴜ ᴀᴄʜᴏ ᴇʟᴇ ʙᴏɴɪᴛᴏ ᴇ ᴅɪsᴄʀᴇᴛᴏ, ᴀ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴄ̧ᴀ̄ᴏ ᴅᴇʟᴇ ᴇ́ ᴅᴇ ᴜᴍᴀ ғᴇʀʀᴀᴍᴇɴᴛᴀ ᴇ ɪssᴏ ᴘᴏᴅᴇ ᴀᴊᴜᴅᴀʀ ᴀ ᴠᴏᴄᴇ̂ ᴀɴᴅᴀʀ ᴄᴏᴍ ᴇʟᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴏ ᴀᴜᴛᴏᴅᴇғᴇsᴀ, ᴇʟᴇ ɴᴀ̄ᴏ ᴇ́ ᴛᴀ̄ᴏ ᴘᴇǫᴜᴇɴᴏ ᴍᴀs ᴀᴄʜᴏ ᴏ ᴛᴀᴍᴀɴʜᴏ ᴏᴋᴀʏ ᴇ ғᴀᴢ ᴜɴs 2 ᴀɴᴏs ǫᴜᴇ ᴀ ᴍɪɴʜᴀ ᴍᴀ̄ᴇ ᴛᴇᴍ ᴜᴍ ᴅᴇssᴇ, ᴇ ᴇʟᴇ ᴀᴛᴇ́ ᴀɢᴏʀᴀ ɴᴀ̄ᴏ ғɪᴄᴏᴜ ᴄᴇɢᴏ, ᴇ́ ʙᴇᴍ ᴀᴍᴏʟᴀᴅᴏ. (@^０^@)/★

[rainhodasucata-archive]

⠀ ㅅ›⠀⠀SEJA BEM-VINDO, ℰ𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑒!

Este é um puffball roxo e azul que pode mudar sua voz para reproduzir os mesmos sons que escuta, tal qual um papagaio, mas não sabe a língua humana e para se comunicar precisa fazer gestos. Esse puffball é companheiro de fadas sombrias, é um mini-pet fiel ao seu dono e que quando atinge maturidade pode se transformar em uma versão três vezes maior e assustadora, com dentes e garras afiadas e olhos demoníacos. Sua aparência é justamente para confundir as pessoas, mas não se pode deixar enganar!

Estilete, como foi batizado, é um puffball recém-criado e ainda tem alguns longos meses até que atinja maioridade. De toda forma, é um dos da raça que veio com "defeitos", tendo em vista que é uma bolinha de pelos fofa e inofensiva, que fala demais, come demais e dorme demais. É também muito eufórico e elétrico quase que além do excesso para Anders, mas ambos se dão muito bem e tem sido engraçado tê-lo por perto, pois não parece ser um pet de monstro... Apenas as fadas conseguem entender o que os puffballs dizem, mas esses bichinhos são mal vistos pelas fadas de Neverland por justa causa  (por serem, em sua maioria, pets malvados de uma raça renegada dentre os seus). Sorte que a fama dos Hook lhes precede, uma vez que a antipatia das fadas para com os legados de James mantém-se até os dias de hoje  - ou pelo menos com Anders.

Para mais fotos especiais do Estilete com o Canivete, veja abaixo!

[denn3r]

acho que não era isso que ela imaginava quando eu disse que era bom com as mãos

[noblie]

Discover the unmatched craftsmanship of our custom knives, ideal for both adventurous spirits and collectors alike. These aren't just tools; they're individually crafted masterpieces, each with a distinct narrative. Perfect for hunters, outdoor enthusiasts, or collectors seeking exceptional quality and style, our knives are a testament to superior craftsmanship. Embrace a piece from our unique collection and experience where timeless tradition and modern innovation converge in every slice.

[ricardochacur]

[quieteating]

Mexico - birds

[mwolf0epsilon]

The Umbaran Pathogen - Day 15: Transformation

Summary: Tup is not happy that the medics keep messing with his Hive, so he takes matters into his own hand. Meanwhile Twitch finally finds a little glimmer of hope for everyone involved in this mess. Hopefully it hasn't come to late.

Warning: Body horror, mentions of cannibalism and revenge killing (the medics are in danger ahah)

Twitch belongs to @gaeasun Pitch and Tacet belong to @lost-on-kamino

Prev / Next

[In which the events on Umbara are worsened by an unknown pathogen taking hold of both the 501st and 212th. These series of drabbles will follow a non-linear timeline based on the AI-less Whumptober prompt list for 2023.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

The medics had become too much of a threat to be ignored any longer. It was a conclusion Tup hadn't wanted to come to, but there was really no getting around it anymore. Not after their constant meddling had actually resulted in some unwelcome consequences.

In hindsight, he should have expected this to be the final outcome of postponing their conversion for this long. Although, to be fair, he wasn't entirely at fault for that. There just hadn't been a way to isolate them for long enough to offer them his gift, and as it stood he was in no condition to produce any more Drone Eggs to enable a more successful ambush.

Not when he'd implanted the second one not so long ago...

And now the medics were actively sabotaging everything both he and Dogma had worked so hard for. Endangering the Hive and all who were meant to be protected within, under Tup's watchful eye and Dogma's diligent care. Messing things up at a very critical moment of the Hive's initial building stages.

That, he decided, was ultimately unacceptable.

Really, it was a shame that things had gone the way they had. That his hand was being forced now, when things had initially looked so promising. Seemed so easy. With some more time and plenty of feedings, his own metamorphosis would have been so much more splendorous than this rush job he was preparing.

The Hive-Leaders of other colonies only ever experienced the changes when their Hives were fully constructed, and inhabited with more than just two Drones. Having plenty of Workers and even a few Repletes to help them through such an extensive set of alterations. Their bodies rotund with vital nutrition that would serve them well to become the beautiful colossal Egg-Layers they were meant to be.

As it stood Tup would be only slightly bigger than an overfed Dewback. A bit of a runt in comparison with the standard. His full potential temporarily stolen from him by the wretched medics that had dared to steal his defenseless Pupa and Drone from him.

That said he would be no less dangerous than his fellows. Would still have the needed armoring and strength to exact revenge in the name of his budding colony. And, while he didn't particularly fancy the idea of feasting on clone flesh since they were still his kin and he only really wished to help them achieve their true potential, he might make an exception just this once.

If just to sooth the rage coursing through his veins. After all, the medics had been rather ungrateful. They did not deserve the gift.

Having finished the outer silky layer of his own cocoon, Tup began to meticulously spit up the yellow adhesive that would form his chrysalis's much more sturdy shell casing. He was hungry and frustrated, knowing fully well it'd take several years for him to grow to an acceptable size after transforming prematurely, but he had to act quick before he was found out and further impeded.

His pores were already starting to leak with the sudden overproduction of pink milk, and he couldn't really waste any of this precious resource now that he did not have his Drone to help him along. He'd need to be fully submerged within the sealed chrysalis for his body to mutate at an acceptable rate.

Already he could feel the eagerness of this weak fleshy vessel to submit to the changes. The way his spine ached in preparation to elongate. How his skull almost pulsed with agony as the bone became more malleable, and his senses dulled as they awaited a much needed upgrade. The way his skin began to slough off from the heat radiating off of him, boiling him, making him soft and easy to molded into something entirely new.

The process was not a painless one, but then again his comfort was more than a necessary sacrifice. Tup had more than a lifetime of pampering awaiting him once he got his Hive back under his control, so he could definitely handle the pain of transformation for at least an hour.

Yes, an hour curled up safely in his cozy little cocoon. Body reshaping itself into something much more beautiful and powerful, the very beginning of a new era for him and his kin. An hour full of pulling every ounce of nutrition he'd acquired from the few feedings he'd received. Mouth-fed nectar and pre-digested meat between battles, and far away from prying eyes. The vessel of his rebirth pulsing and swelling as he grew and grew. What a thrilling event, this one singular hour...

Once he was rid of all the obstacles that stood in his way, he'd be sure to locate the new Drone he'd recently implanted and speed up his transformation process as well. Then, as beneath his cast as it might be, he'd seek out his own targets and feed on their blood to produce even more Drone Eggs. The rest of the clones would be converted in no time if he had more than just Dogma and Cody bringing him more soon-to-be-Workers.

At the end of the day, what were five measly dead medics in the face of having hundreds more Hive-Mates at his beck and call? Safe and prospering away from the Republic and it's pointless war?

Tup certainly thought that was a more than reasonable price. A worthy enough sacrifice for the cause.

---

Canivete couldn't quite believe her eyes as she entered the medbay of the Umbaran Base that the 501st had taken over. Truly when Waxer had informed her of the severity of things, she had hoped that maybe things were only slightly out of hand and that there had been some slight miscommunication through the choppy comms connection.

Tacet had done their best, but not even they could work miracles. On arrival they'd promised to figure things out in the comm tower, but she hadn't really been holding her breath. Instead focusing on trying to remain positive.

Sadly, no amount of positivity could make things less of the horrific nightmare they really were...

There were several troopers in varying stages of some kind of indescribable transformation, tightly bound to their cots to deter them from either escaping or harming themselves (as some were sporting some alarmingly nail and teeth shaped wounds on their persons, that seemed entirely too fresh to her). The few that were awake were wailing in despair as they tried to fight against the restraints, while the others that just lay listlessly appeared to be in a state of drug-induced sedation.

From where she and the rest of the 212th stood she could just about see Coric, Pitch and Sponge practically running around trying to ensure that none of the active ones got loose from their bindings, while Twitch was frantically tapping away on a console. Likely trying to make sense of the Umbaran code that flashed across the screen while he looked for something, anything, that might be of help to them right now.

She hoped the kih'vod had better luck than she'd had when she consulted the archive she'd downloaded prior to landing. That thing had been naught but useless.

"Karking hells..." Waxer whispered where he stood behind her, while the General and Commander simply stared in muted horror.

The latter leaning slightly on the former, as the wound on the back of his neck had become the tell-tale rash that came with this gruesome infection. On their way over she'd noticed how aggressively it had spread in comparison to the others, which she wrote off as the Commander's stronger CC immune system just giving more of a fight than that of the standard CTs.

Following them into the medbay, the healthy 212th troopers were helping the sick settle down on the few empty cots that were left available. Some had become so lethargic they had to be carried in, while others stumbled and stared vacantly as their fevers muddled their thoughts completely.

"Coric!" Not wanting to stand around and stare for longer than she was required to, Canivete called over the CMO to see what she could do. Temporarily relieving him of his current duties. "Sitrep man, what happened here?!"

"I wish I knew!" Coric barked back, briefly saluting in General Kenobi's and Commander Cody's way, before helplessly looking around at the new influx of patients that the 212th had brought along. "We thought it was some kind of allergy at first, and it just...Spiraled from there on out!"

"Spiraled is putting it lightly, Ori'vod." Pitch bitterly retorted as he took the medpack right off Canivete's back, rushing off to treat one of the 212th's soldiers who's blisters had only just started to pop and reveal the shiny black scales beneath. "We were so busy trying not to die under Krell's orders that we didn't notice things getting as bad as they did, up until Dogma came out of hiding looking all kinds of freaky... Then he ripped Krell apart, nearly tore Appo's arm off, and took Twitch and all these vode to some kind of nest..."

Out of the corner of her eye, Canivete could see Sponge trying to guide Pretty Boy away from the much more severely mutated Lich, who was currently hissing at both of them. The distraught look on the lancer's face as it became clear his older brother did not seem to recognize him at the moment, more than drove a spike into the female medic's heart.

She couldn't imagine facing her own batchers if they were here, looking at her like that...

"Canivete, we don't know what we're doing..." Coric admitted, sounding so terribly tired and defeated by all of this. Brought to his very limit as a medical officer and older brother. "This wasn't remotely covered in any of the training modules! We're going in blind!"

"No, it sure as hell wasn't." She agreed, moving over to inspect the nearest mutated trooper. Jolting backwards when their response to her presence was to snap their jaws at her in a threatening manner. Like with Lich, there was no recognition behind those pitch black eyes. Only aggression. "But I can tell you something I know for sure. Its definitely a bug bite. Although... I have no idea of any kind of bug bite that does this kind of horrific damage..."

"That's because it's not just a bug bite!"

Everyone turned to look over at Twitch, who seemed to have finally found what he was looking for while they were all distracted. The much younger clone medic having brought up an archive of sorts that held an image of some kind of black and blue arthropod that looked not too dissimilar from a louse. Or maybe even a silverfish.

It was honestly quite unassuming in appearance. With a lean body that was mostly blue with black spots, segments that were decorated with black spikes, two large pincers tipped with black claws, and green glowing antennae, cerci, and compound eyes.

"Umbra P. Imperatoris, also known colloquial as the 'Shadow Puppeteer' or 'Umber Blight'..." Twitch offered as he pointed to the image of the insect on display. "And, according to this databank, it's one of Umbara's most dreaded apex predators..."

If not for the circumstances this would have certainly gotten a laugh out of everyone in the room. A tiny insect no bigger than one's index finger, being called an apex predator that brought sheer terror into the hearts of the enemy. Only, no one was laughing.

"According to what I've managed to translate so far, this whole thing is a gigantic parasitic cycle. From specialized larvae that eat mind control fungal spores, to highjacked Banshees that are forced to divebomb straight into the mouths of an unsuspecting Vixus, to the Vixus itself being the final vector for the original parasite's own set of specialized eggs..." Twitch continued, seeing as no one was stopping him. "To put that into perspective, a species of parasitic maggot exists specifically to eat a kind of cordyceps spores that grow here on Umbara, then when it's eaten enough it itself gets eaten twice by two different predator that it highjacks with ease, and then anyone who's careless enough to get caught by an infected Vixus ends up implanted with a completely different kind of parasite that in turn changes the victim into a eusocial parasites with a cast system. And then those transformed individuals eventually lays the original form's eggs to restart the cycle... It's all kind of insane actually."

It really was. Insane and extremely convoluted to the point it honestly made very little sense in an evolutionary standpoint. But, then again, nature rarely behaved in the ways most thought it should. If Mother Nature wanted there to be some kind of extremophile parasite with the capacity to turn other creatures into parasites, then she'd have her way in the end...

That said, this did reminded Canivete of a rather curious detail that sent a chill up her armored spine. Grabbing at her personal datapad and quickly scrolling through her gallery, she quickly located the holopic that she'd snapped when she and Waxer had come across that strange Vixus with the branded mark on its bulb. She held it up for the General to see.

"I... Sir, what does this say?" she asked, already knowing very well what the answer would be. Her stomach plummeting from the sheer amount of guilt she felt, as her fears were sadly confirmed.

"Warning: Infected." General Kenobi read calmly, his tone soft and full of understanding. She couldn't maintain eye contact with him, as it downed on her that she'd been holding onto some key information that could have certainly helped them out sooner, had she actually had the karking thing translated sooner.

"I was just about to say..." Twitch frowned. "The Umbarans make a point to send out scouts in Hazmat gear to identify and mark all infected Vixus. The archive in this base only has the basics, so we don't really have a map of all the afflicted areas at our disposal. But, I do have some good news..."

"Which are?" Coric asked, urging Twitch to continue.

"Apparently the nearest medical facility has a much more vast database about the Umber Blight, as well as a more detailed study of how the parasite itself takes over and changes a sentient host." Twitch informed them, continuing to skim the information as he did so. "I'll bet you the facility might have information on some kind of cure or... Or something to at least break whatever hold these parasites have on the vode..."

"Perfect!" Pitch grinned, seeming to be in better spirits now that they knew there might be a solution to their problem. "Then all we need to do is grab Kix and go to the medical faci--"

SCREEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!!!!!!!

"--ty?!" the blue haired medic startled, as did everyone else in the room. The thunderous roar that rang across the halls taking them all by surprise and making the hair stand on the back of all their necks.

The infected vode seemed to all snap to attention. Cody and Crys, who were still relatively healthy, suddenly standing up ramrod straight as if in a trance. And then began the uproar of cries and clicks and screeches as the more mutated troopers began to call out to whatever had announced its presence.

"That can't be good..." Sponge muttered uneasily.

General Kenobi just barely had time to grab onto Commander Cody's arm, as the other was now eagerly attempting to move towards the door with newfound energy and vigor. Pitch blocking Crys's own path and taking a hold of him, to keep him from doing the same.

"Cody, are you quite alright...?" The Jedi obviously knew the answer to his own question, but Cani assumed that perhaps he hoped to snap the CC out of this sudden hypnotic state.

"Our Leader...He's calling for us..." Cody simply whispered, eyes glazed and expression a mixture of reverent and confused. "He's so hungry...I... I need to feed him..."

"Cody...?" The Jedi kept a firm grip on the clone commander, brow pinched as his worry increased tenfold, when the other turned to stare at everyone in the room, and then at the four 501st medics specifically.

"You... You've angered the Hive-Leader..." He hissed in an accusatory tone, expression turning hateful and even slightly disgusted, like they were the scum of the earth. "You hurt our Hive..."

"Commander! Snap out of it!" Cani called out, unsure of what to do in this situation. Just a moment ago both Cody and Crys had been fine, and now... It was like a switch had flipped. Triggered by that monstrously loud screech.

"You'll make a fine meal... It's what you deserve..." Cody finished, a pleased and rather wicked looking grin on his face.

Belatedly, they all realized this wasn't so much a threat as it was a promise, as something quite big began to stomp its way down the hall towards the medbey at an alarming pace.

Things had somehow gotten even worse.