Chapter 7: Irvine, Scion of the Swarm
A sluggish awakening dragged me back from the smothering depths of unconsciousness. The world crept into focus with the whispering sounds of clicking and scuttling, a cacophony of countless tiny limbs rattling like a thousand miniature bones in syncopated rhythm. My eyelids cracked open slowly, revealing a sky bleeding into dusk — a haunting shade of bruised purple melting across the horizon as the sun bled out its final rays.
As I strained to move, a soft but unyielding pressure held me tight. Looking down, my breath caught: I was ensnared in a cradle woven from a gossamer-like webbing, delicate yet unbreakable. The memory flared suddenly and sharply. Right — I died.
A weary sigh escaped me, and I lifted my gaze. There stood Kimchi, her multifaceted eyes darting in rapid, anxious sweeps, uttering low, fretful screeches that rippled through the air like an alarm bell in a cathedral of insects. I twisted my neck to follow her gaze, and what met my eyes made my jaw drop, disbelief rooting me in place.
Bugs. An endless swarm of them.
Thousands. No, tens of thousands, maybe more — some as tall as Kimchi herself, others smaller, eerily perfect replicas of her slender, chitinous form. The hive's warriors and drone castes, a living sea of segmented bodies and multifarious limbs, moved in a fluid, unerring dance of purpose and precision. This was no chaotic swarm but a hive mind's manifest will, every insect a cog in a perfectly tuned machine of death and devotion.
I reached to summon my psionic power, desperate to anchor myself to Kimchi's consciousness, to ask the only question spinning in my dizzy mind: What the hell is going on? But the instant I tried to reach out, a guttural, inhuman wail tore through my skull — a terrible, keening scream that shattered the fragile link before it even formed.
"Waaaaaaaaaagh!"
Pain exploded behind my eyes like a star gone supernova. The sensory overload was absolute, a thousand psychic needles stabbing deep into my mind. The only reason I remained conscious was the fragile psionic shield I instinctively carried—weak, flickering, and barely enough to keep me tethered to sanity. Without it, I would have been obliterated, my mind reduced to smoldering ash by the hive's defensive backlash.
The swarm froze — a living wave crashing against some unseen force. A sudden snap like countless brittle bones breaking echoed as every creature twisted in unison to face the source of the scream.
Kimchi severed her connection to the hive and linked exclusively to me instead, her voice a sharp shriek vibrating with urgent fear.
"MATE-SPAWN!" She hissed, releasing a bitter pheromone thick in the charged air — the chemical equivalent of terror.
Before she could shriek further, thick, strong tentacles snatched me out of the delicate papoose and lifted me high into the air. Two smaller tendrils pressed against my temples, injecting a cool, soothing balm that rushed through my head like icy water, chasing away the stabbing pain and grounding me again.
Through blurred, watering eyes, I glimpsed the form of an imposing entity—an awe-inspiring, psionically charged titan of the swarm. It hovered silently, six meters tall, body suspended just above the ground without legs, a thin, flexible torso bearing two clawed arms. Its head mirrored Kimchi's insectoid shape but lacked any visible mouth; instead, a bulbous, pulsating bulb at the back of its skull throbbed with raw psychic energy.
From this grotesque crown streamed a writhing mass of delicate tentacles, each moving independently, like the threads of a living crown of medusae.
"Worry not, little mate-spawn." A voice, calm and velvety, invaded my mind like a gentle breeze. "This one has mended the damage to your mind shield wrought by our amplified link."
The creature's tendrils brushed my cheek with unexpected tenderness, a ghost of touch soft and strangely comforting. "The pain we caused you wounds us equally. We vow it shall never happen again."
Though still recovering from the psychic trauma, the soothing caress coaxed a faint smile from my lips. Weak but grateful, I conveyed the simple truth: "T-thank you. Hungry."
"We understand. Our mate," it promised, "shall return you to Kimchi. We will speak more of the void swimmer shortly."
With one final gentle stroke, the being eased me back into the delicate papoose Kimchi had woven. The tendrils retracted, and the massive psionic guardian drifted back into the swarm's restless tide, its many tendrils vanishing into the writhing sea of bodies.
Safely cocooned once more, Kimchi spun me around with nimble limbs and immediately offered her feeding appendages again. I surrendered to the strange, almost liquefied nourishment — a bizarre, melted-ice-cream texture that slid down my throat like sweet poison, filling the empty hollows of my belly with alien sustenance.
After my fill, she spun me back and reestablished our psionic link, this time exclusively hers. Before I could utter even a single word, her worried voice came flooding through my mind:
"Are you alright, mate-spawn? Did the psionic agitator help? I severed the hive link after your scream so you could reconnect with me when ready."
The raw emotion behind her thoughts was unmistakable — genuine concern, almost grief-stricken at the pain she believed she had caused.
"I'm fine," I whispered internally, "whatever that… hive guardian did, it washed away the pain. Just… tired. Even though I just woke."
A low, guttural growl emanated from Kimchi—her version of a relieved sigh.
"Now," she pressed, "what is happening here? Are we waiting for the void swimmer?"
"Yes, mate-spawn. You emerged from your torpor at a fortuitous moment. The void swimmer has finally pierced the prey's air defenses after we finished dismantling several of their concrete nests. It will arrive shortly."
Minutes crawled by. Kimchi idly brushed my cheek with the back of her scythe-like limbs — mimicking the soothing touch of the psionic guardian. Then, the air itself shifted. My heart thudded in my chest.
From the swirling dusk, a colossal shape emerged. A living behemoth of a ship, roughly a kilometer long and half as tall, lumbered towards us. Its surface was a rich, fleshy brown mottled with darker ridges and struts, grotesquely organic yet strangely elegant. Two massive tendrils extended forward like ancient antennae, probing the air.
I glanced at the guardian who had aided me earlier. Its tentacles mirrored the ship's enormous appendages, a fractal echo of form and function scaled from microscopic to monumental.
The ship settled to the ground with a controlled, deliberate thud — no noisy hydraulics, no mechanical whooshing. Instead, it exhaled a deep, rhythmic sound that was more breath than engine, the living lungs of a gargantuan beast.
"What a spectacular sight," I exclaimed, my voice trembling with awe. "Majestic."
My old life's love for sci-fi — a passion from the distant past — flared up inside me, filling me with a childish giddiness I hadn't felt in ages.
Kimchi spoke softly, "Though smaller than the queen's primary hive ships, the void swimmers were among the first crafted after our exodus from our nest world. Since our goal is to return you to that place, the swimmer is designed for your comfort. It stores oxygen throughout its living body, not merely in isolated torpor nests."
The implications sent a shiver down my spine. This entire ship was a living organism.
It took ten minutes for the swarm to stream aboard, a procession of ceaseless limbs and armored carapaces. The extra biomass gathered during the ground assault filled out the ship's organic hull — an efficient use of space, the hive's insatiable appetite swallowing all it could claim.
Kimchi stomped ahead, her bulk forcing pathways to widen. Inside, the walls pulsed and breathed with a living rhythm, constricting and relaxing in a hypnotic cadence. A network of tunnels and holes wound in every direction, perfect for smaller drones to scuttle and swarm, while grander thoroughfares accommodated larger entities like her.
Not designed for human sensibilities, this ship was both alien and intimidating.
Just as Kimchi moved deeper into the living bowels, I called after her, "Is there a place to watch the world as we leave orbit? I want to see it fade away."
She paused, then shifted course. "Of course, mate-spawn. Near the tendrils is translucent tissue you can see through. Not a window, but it will suffice."
Five minutes later, I stood before a broad wall of pink-hued, semi-transparent membrane. It distorted the view but offered a mesmerizing panorama of the shrinking planet below.
I blinked, tears pricking the corners of my eyes. "Thank you," I whispered — not just to Kimchi, but to the entire hive.
"Why, mate-spawn?" she asked, tilting her head in genuine puzzlement.
Despite the strange surge of emotion, I couldn't help but smile faintly. "Though it's not the way I imagined, you've made one of my lifelong dreams come true — to step into the stars and see what's out there."
Kimchi cocked her head the other way, confusion deepening.
"But mate-spawn, you are only a day old. How could you have such dreams?"
I fumbled, caught off guard. "Don't mind me. Just something strange your mate does sometimes." The sly use of your mate sparked a flicker of warmth in her mental voice, distracting her from my embarrassment.
The ship lifted off with a slow, rhythmic pulse, rising from the planet's surface. Within moments, the entire dwarf planet — a rocky, mountainous orb roughly 2,000 kilometers across — shrank beneath us.
Human cities, arranged in futuristic circular patterns, dotted the sparse greenery. Water was scarce, hidden underground or ferried from neighboring worlds. A haunting beauty radiated from the planet's surface.
Yet from space, the scene was grim.
Colossal hive ships encircled the planet like vultures, while smaller metallic ships evacuated under relentless defensive fire. Explosions painted the surface in fleeting bursts of light, a testament to the prey's desperate, valiant resistance.
I sighed, caught between awe and horror.
"Beautiful and horrific, all at once."
To distract myself, I asked, "Kimchi, have you figured out my name yet? I'm not the biggest fan of 'mate-spawn.'"
A rush of pride and tenderness swelled through her. "Ah yes! Kimchi, with the hive, chose a name for you while you rested in torpor. We think it fits perfectly."
"Please, tell me," I urged.
"As we claim this world for ourselves, we will never forget what it gave us — our greatest treasure, our future mate: you. We shall immortalize the name your prey-species gave this world. So even when its resources dissolve into the hive, the name of your home will live on within you."
The name, whispered softly, settled deep inside me:
"Irvine."