Life in North America, you call this an autopsy officer?!
Chapter 587 - 309: Compensate Me Later?

Chapter 587: Chapter 309: Compensate Me Later?

According to the current known situation, it can be confirmed that the source of pollution was in the brain region of the deceased.

Brian had watched the video and conducted an autopsy on a body that had suffered from pollution. But his five senses did not detect anything amiss—no danger alerts, no previous signs, no physical or mental discomfort.

Therefore, he could not pinpoint the area where the pollution source was located.

At present, the fastest way to determine the specific location of the source of pollution was only one: the process of elimination.

Under Brian’s direction, the soldiers on the battleship formed a circle and grabbed pieces of paper with various expressions.

After opening the slips, some were joyful, others had faces resembling mourners.

Each piece of paper was marked with a sequence number.

According to the agreement, they had to observe the corpse in turn as if they were guinea pigs.

This was, after all, the sole value of their assignment aboard the battleship.

Even Brian, a Second Rank officer of the NW organization, and Susan with her background, had been thrown here by the people of the Deep Sea Base, let alone these regular soldiers.

The first person was a well-built African American soldier.

You could tell he was very nervous, and there was a hint of confusion on his face.

Up to now, these soldiers had no idea what they were facing.

He pursed his thick lips and approached Brian: "Sir, may I ask what I am supposed to do?"

Brian looked at him: "How is your family?"

The African American soldier was taken aback and replied instinctively: "Reporting, sir, I have a mother, two brothers, and three sisters at home, I’m the eldest son!"

Hearing this, Brian nodded: "Understood. If you die, I will pay to take care of your family. The military’s pension won’t be a cent short, all of it will go to your family. That’s my promise to you!"

"Thank you, sir!"

Upon hearing this, the soldier’s anxiety visibly eased.

His face now wore a genuine expression: "You are a good man, sir. May I ask what you need me to do?"

"It’s simple," Brian stepped aside, revealing the cardboard behind him.

There was a small hole in the cardboard. Through this hole, one could see a part of the deceased’s brain tissue.

Brian pointed to the hole: "Come here and look at what’s inside this hole!"

The African American soldier was once again startled.

That’s it?

He had imagined it to be some kind of biochemical experiment, or drugs or something.

After all, there had been such rumors in the military.

Until this event befell them.

But the well-prepared soldier didn’t expect that he was merely to look at something.

However, obeying orders had become his instinct.

The African American soldier immediately directed his gaze toward the revealed hole beneath the cardboard.

Below the hole, it looked like... flesh...

Looking and looking, he shook his head and almost lost his balance, swaying as if about to fall backward.

Brian quickly moved the hole aside, blocking the thing below, and then supported the African American soldier, inquiring, "How do you feel?"

The soldier patted his head, speaking in discomfort: "FK, my head is so dizzy, it’s all a mess, it’s like something is shaking my brain... I don’t know how to describe it, damn, it’s like being hungover, sorry, I really can’t describe that feeling."

Brian immediately realized that this guy’s educational level probably wasn’t high.

He changed his approach: "What did you see?"

Probably after a brief recovery, the African American soldier’s discomfort began to fade.

He took a few deep breaths and glanced fearfully at the glass cabinet behind Brian: "It’s hard to describe. At first, it looked like piled-up intestines, but the next second, it seemed like the intestines were spinning in circles, as if the thing inside the hole wanted to burrow into my brain... Damn it, what the hell is that thing, what exactly are those military bastards having us do!"

As he spoke, the soldier’s emotions became uncontrollably agitated, he cursed vehemently, and even his eyes began to redden, as if entering some kind of stress response.

Brian quickly took a syringe from his waist, injected it into the African American soldier’s neck with precision, and then administered the liquid.

It was a sedative.

To cover up the secret that his body could store various drugs, Brian often carried things like sedatives and morphine.

This time it came in handy.

With the effects of the drug, the emotionally agitated soldier began to fall into a stupor.

Brian observed him for a little more than a minute and, being sure that he had survived, took him outside and instructed the others to take care of him. He then motioned for number two to come in.

Number two was clearly startled by the African American soldier’s loud rants.

At this moment, seeing the soldier’s dazed and foolish appearance, he looked at Brian with fierce eyes, cocked the bolt on his gun, and aimed it at Brian: "No, I will not go into that damn room. I will not subject myself to that damn experiment. Listen, tell us the truth. We are human beings, not test subjects!"

His words also stirred most of the other soldiers.

Regular people, who would willingly be a test subject.

No one!

No outbursts had occurred previously, partly due to fear of military retribution and partly due to waiting for a scapegoat to test the waters.

Now the scapegoat had emerged.

Faced with a gun pointed at him, Brian’s expression turned cold: "I am a victim too, as well as someone trying to ensure that most of you can survive. Your mate was only injected with a sedative, and he will soon come to his senses. But your current behavior is very irrational. I’ll give you a chance. Now, come in!"