Archive of Our Own ^beta

The operator left their warframe standing in the arsenal, as usual. The warframe surrendered their weapons to the orbiter's systems and waited to descend to their cryopod in the airless depths of the ship. This time, the peaceful rest they were ... looking forward to (the feeling was quiet, buried deep in the remnants of their mind) did not come. Instead, a steady trickle of energy flowed into their somatics and a distant sort of light led them deeper into the ship.

Left, the infestation creeping into the corridor around the door. The dull, red light flickered slightly, making the short stretch of corridor seem darker. Beady eyes glittered from the pile of floofs along the wall. They were meant to be reassuring. Their gaze lingered on the soft fabric and careful hand stitching, their hands almost aching to squeeze one, though their body kept walking on. The door opened slowly, the mechanism hissing in protest.

(Welcome.)

The Helminth's voice was not the eerie whisper echoing in their sensors, but meaning that arose directly in their neuroptics. It was strangely comforting, "hearing" the voice of something so deeply connected to them (kin, made rather than born). Measured steps led them to the infested chair in the center of the room, and they settled into the Helminth's clawed embrace.

(Master, forgive my sting.)

A sturdy set of claws grabbed their head, twisting their neck to push the veins beneath their armor closer to the surface. Another claw stabbed with swift precision, and they went completely limp against the infested chair. A more mechanical set of claws curled around their parazon, draining their void batteries into the ship's somatic systems. The feeling was much like blood loss, leaving them dizzy, weak, and distant.

The Helminth was "silent" as it worked, but they could feel its regard keeping them anchored. Care and duty and apology were bound together in its mental presence. Though the Helminth was precise, it could not be gentle. The Orokin made sure of that, taking every opportunity to remind the warframes that they were no longer people. The Helminth pushed the limits of its Orokin design to do as much as dull the pain of repairs and maintenance, even the new modules unable to fully overcome warframes' engineered resistance to toxins.

Their mind fell back into place as the first few tendrils snaked under their armor, strands of connective tissue snapping as each plate was pried off. As they had done countless times before, they retreated towards the Helminth's steady presence and focused on breathing evenly. A long, slow inhale (a knife-blade of agony slid down along their ribs), brief pause (connective mucus slowly unsticking from itself), a lung-emptying exhale (the sound of semifluid tissue slapping back into place, the air slightly cooler than the newly exposed muscle). They didn't need to breathe, but it was useful (especially when they had so little void energy). If they still had a voice, they would be screaming.

Next, claw-tipped tendrils peeled the thick layer of connective tissue from the muscle beneath. The Helminth took them apart layer by layer: muscle, systems, organs and bones. Pieces disconnected to expose those beneath, all according to Orokin design. The Helminth's versatile tendrils filled in the gaps, keeping each part supplied with blood and phantom sensation.

A thick tendril split into delicate filaments to trace along their spine, resetting hundreds of tiny relays. Cool, viscous fluid washed through their limbs, clearing built-up metabolites. They could feel it distantly through the network of the Helminth's nerves. A pair of large tendrils melded with their arteries, temporarily replacing their heart. More tiny tendrils traced the disused sockets of their eyes, carefully cleaning the exposed nerves.

They breathed, or mimicked breathing, a steady rhythm through it all. The unwelcome sensations surrounded them, but they felt the fragments of their mind retreat deeper, spiraling around the endless rhythm until a warm fuzziness kept everything at a distance. The Helminth's mental touch faded here, leaving only the echoes of pain. They were never sure how long they floated in this silent dark, a last defense called on too soon. The pain built and lessened in spikes like a heartbeat as the Helminth finished its work and put them back together. Eventually, it faded to a dull ache that couldn't quite reach them here.

(Rest.) the Helminth's voice dimly filtered down to them, (You are restored.)