1

There is no sound in the vacuum of the universe.

But if there is one, it must be a frequency somewhere between the friction of metal and the hiss of a living being—the Fron interstellar reconnaissance ship "Infiltrator-7" is gliding past a star orbit at sub-light speed, and the molecular frequency converters on the surface of the ship are distorting the surrounding space into a blurry green ripple.

Inside the bridge, a holographic projection floated in front of the control console, displaying a blue and white planet. Data streamed down like a waterfall: atmospheric composition, gravity coefficient, civilization level, energy readings... Most indicators were labeled "primitive," "inefficient," or "negligible."

In the center of the projection, a bloated, wrinkled bio-image covered in mucus vesicles is speaking. Its voice, processed by a translator, becomes a dry, synthesized tone with electrical noise.

“Cryptosporidium-138, report your status.”

The green figure leaning against the driver's seat stirred. He—or rather, "it"—was somewhat similar in appearance to a human, but his skin was a sickly grayish-green, covered in fine, scaly textures. His head was hairless, with only a few prominent bony ridges, and a pair of narrow, yellow eyes gleamed like two malevolent lamps in the dim light. He wore some kind of tight-fitting black combat suit, with glowing green energy nodes embedded in his joints.

“In good shape, Pox,” Crypto replied lazily, mimicking the tough guy tone he’d picked up from old movies. “Just a little boring. This lousy place doesn’t even have a decent entertainment facility.”

“Your mission is investigation, not entertainment.” Pox’s voice was flat. “The target planet is codenamed ‘Azure-3.’ Preliminary scans show the presence of carbon-based intelligent life, with a civilization level of approximately 0.7. They call themselves ‘humans.’ Their social structure is loose, their individual combat capabilities are low, but they have a strong reproductive drive and experience intense emotional fluctuations—typical characteristics of primitive organisms.”

“Sounds like a bunch of monkeys in clothes.” Crypto chuckled, tracing a projection with a finger adorned with a metal cot, magnifying a section of the planet’s surface. It was a city built on a coastal cliff, brightly lit, its architecture a blend of futuristic technology and a certain retro luxury. “But… the architectural taste is alright. At least better than that mud-house planet we went to last time.”

“Based on energy readings, there are anomalous spatial fluctuations in this region, which may be related to the ‘star core’ fragment,” Pox continued. “Your primary objective is to confirm the existence of the fragment and assess its stability. Secondary objective: collect physiological and behavioral data on this species, especially its… mating behavior. The Fron Council believes that understanding the reproductive mechanisms of primitive organisms will help optimize our cloning process.”

“Mating data?” Crypto’s yellow eyes lit up, and a grotesque smile spread across his face. “I like this. Those ‘human’ females… look much better than the rock lizards we encountered last time.”

“Stay professional.” Pox’s voice finally betrayed a hint of impatience. “Don’t be fooled by the appearance of these lower creatures. Remember, you are the first pure-blooded clone in the history of the Fron race to possess full reproductive capabilities. Your genetic value far exceeds that of these short-lived carbon-based monkeys.”

"Okay, okay." Crypto waved his hand, as if shooing away an annoying bug. "Mission list: one, find star core fragments; two, watch monkeys mate; three, if I'm in the mood, blow up a few buildings while I'm at it. Right?"

“…Roughly correct.” Pox paused for a few seconds. “The infiltration process will begin in thirty standard seconds. The molecular deconstructor is preheating, and your armor will temporarily transform you into an ionized state to silently penetrate the atmosphere and any primary defense barriers. Landing point marked: city edge, low-surveillance area. Remember, camouflage is the top priority.”

"Disguise myself as those monkeys?" Crypto looked down at his scaly hands, then at the smooth-skinned, soft-featured human figures projected on the screen, a look of disgust on his face. "Disgusting. I need to crawl into those soft, fleshy shells..."

“This is the most efficient way to infiltrate,” Pox interrupted him. “Your consciousness will take over the host’s central nervous system, completely controlling its behavior. The host’s memories and personality will be suppressed, but not erased—this provides the perfect social disguise. According to calculations, choosing young, healthy female individuals with simple social relationships has the highest success rate and is also the easiest for subsequent operations.”

“Female…” Crypto repeated the word, his gaze returning to the seaside city. The hologram captured pedestrians on the street, and the figures of several women made him pause. His tongue—long, forked, with a hint of fluorescent green at the tip—licked his lips. “Alright. For the mission.”

The control panel emitted a low hum. The walls surrounding the cockpit lit up with intricate circuit patterns, and a cylindrical container in the center slowly rose, filled with a constantly churning green fluorescent liquid.

"Permeation process initiated. Molecular deconstruction countdown: ten, nine, eight..."

Crypto stood up and walked to the container. He glanced one last time at the blue planet projected on the screen, a mixture of disdain, curiosity, and a barely perceptible glint of excitement flashing in his yellow eyes.

"...Three, two, one. Deconstruction."

There was no loud noise, no blinding light. His body seemed to instantly lose its form, disintegrating from the edges into countless tiny green specks of light. These specks of light did not dissipate, but rather coalesced into a solid, flowing energy stream, like a living, giant green python, twisting and coiling in the air. Tiny arcs of electricity constantly burst forth from within the energy stream, emitting a soft, hissing sound.

Crypto, in his ionized state—now merely a mass of conscious energy—felt a strange freedom. Physical barriers were meaningless; gravity was merely an adjustable parameter. He "looked" at the outer wall of the container, and with a thought, the green energy flowed unimpeded through the alloy bulkhead, into the spaceship's outer passageways, then the outer shell, and finally merged completely into the darkness of the universe.

Below, the blue planet grows larger and larger.

Like a shooting star flying in reverse, it trailed a faint green tail as it silently plunged into the atmosphere.