Hive mind Beyond the veil

The final preparations were complete. I exhaled slowly and began the slow, methodical testing of the Neskar's internal biological systems. One by one, I triggered responses, sending controlled nerve jolts through its musculature.

Architect drones crawled through its living tunnels, testing for errors in the design, finding none.

The complex layers of its muscle lattice flexed and stretched beneath my commands. Even now, the asteroid shell that had formed its cocoon was loosening, fragments of stone sliding away as the Neskar stirred beneath the rock.

The sheer mass of its body dwarfed the nearby Zhyrraaks. Now they looked like prey beside this new addition to my forces.

Finally, I breached the outer growth pod. The Neskar stirred, flexing its body for the first time as twin fusion cores roared to life in its spine. With slow majesty, it pushed its way from the asteroid belt, scattering boulders and smaller debris with its bulk alone.

I began initial core stress tests. Its systems are powered on flawlessly. Architect drones moved like white blood cells through the titan's body, scanning for structural trauma or foreign infiltration.

To my relief, nothing was found. Not even the harsh passage through the asteroid belt left a scratch.

The Neskar was perfect. A true Leviathan.

It accelerated gently, building momentum toward Imreth's surface. The first field tests would be done there, in its brutal storms and heavy atmosphere. It would take several days to arrive.

While other battles raged for Veridia's orbit, most of my mind remained focused on the Neskar, feeding it data and looking for weakness.

My command ship followed at a respectful distance. Seer was still aboard, curled in his meditative sleep. I left him be. His awakening would bring some disturbance. For now, I wanted silence while I worked.

I needed to act before a full planetary assault. I had to slow down surface resistance without wasting biomass. The next strike wave wouldn't be fully destructive. No, I had something more subtle in mind.

Hollowed warheads seeded with Ash blight spores. A single overwhelming attack to hide the real payload. If calculations were correct, the spores would embed and grow swiftly, warping the ecosystem across wide regions and grinding all operations to a crawl. Let them try to wage war in an environment mutating by the hour.

As I was sketching additional symbiotic options into a possible biomass harvest, maybe a way for Ash blight to have miniature biomorphs survive reentry and burrow deep Seer stirred.

He groaned and stretched, blinking slowly. Then his eyes snapped to the multiple screens, and he stood up, his hands scrambling to zoom in on the Neskar.

"Is that… thing small or large?" he asked, his voice flat with disbelief.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

I shrugged. "You wanted a ship. There it is."

"Is it… metal?"

"Some parts." I flipped to a new resin tablet, scribbling out potential Ash blight spread vectors, considering wind currents and soil types across Veridia and possible enemy reactions.

He sat down heavily, muttering something about mythical beasts in deep space. "If that thing ever entered civilized space, the questions would never stop."

"I know," I replied, still writing. "But I consider it small—relatively speaking."

He blinked. "Small?"

I didn't look up. "I'm already running calculations for scaled-up versions. I could see something a quarter the size of Phaedra in a few decades. All depends on the energy model and atmospheric limits."

He stared at me, his mind a storm of conflicting thoughts. I felt them swirl faintly in the ether—a rare crack in his calm veneer.

"So just like that," he said, "you've built something that can shake the galaxy. What will you do with it after the war?"

I paused.

"Expand. Into uncharted space. Claim a hundred systems. Maybe more."

"And Civilized space?" He leaned forward slightly, a swirl of emotions crossing his face—curiosity, scepticism, possibly even dread.

"Mostly infiltration," I answered plainly. "Why wage a long war when I can learn from the minds of trillions? One mind at a time. Assimilate, understand, subvert, expand and repeat."

That made him pause. He leaned back into his seat slowly, eyes narrowing. "And if investigators from the Triumvirate come knocking? Hunting for this… expedition before you leave this solar system?"

I chuckled. "I have grand plans for the Triumvirate. Their technology, their manufacturing capabilities, their disciplined hierarchy and clone armies—they're essential for what comes next." I allowed a pause, my thoughts shifting into something darker, and then I muttered with a hint of humour, "How'd you like to be Emperor of all rogue clone forces if I bring their empire down?"

He didn't miss a beat. "Too much administrative work," he grunted. "Sounds like a miserable job for any combat-born clone. Piles of reports, coordination, logistics, and politics. I hate that kind of thing."

"But you'd finally get what you always wanted—your own ship. A real one and crew, command codes, autonomy."

He scoffed. "Too much work. Give me a plot of land, no biotech, no dreamscape, just dirt and quiet. Then we'll talk."

I chuckled but let it rest. We spoke a little after that.

I became absorbed in my work—endlessly stress-testing the Neskar, while he maintained communication with the rest of his cohort, those few still outside my dreamscape influence. We kept to our rhythms, separate but parallel.

During the long transit to Imreth, I obsessed over every subsystem. Manoeuvrability trials were rerun. Manufacturing tests initiated: the Neskar's organic systems produced dozens of Star lance missiles and thousands of bone spikes, while the fusion core's stability under stress was logged and recalibrated.

I ran constant combat drills throughout our journey across the vacuum. The Neskar passed all tests, it was proving to be the drone designed to wage war without pause.

As we neared our destination it was time for the test, I chose a broad stretch of land on Imreth's irradiated surface it was flat, stable, and unoccupied save for ash dunes and cyclonic storms.

The Neskar began its slow descent through layers of ash, dust, and radioactive gusts. Thrusters ignited, scorching the landscape, and turning the sand beneath it to molten glass. The entire area lit up with a dull, eerie glow as the behemoth settled the leviathans mass meeting earth.

When it was still, I dispatched Architect drones to assess any stress fractures, hull warping, or strain damage from the atmospheric entry. Dozens crawled across the exterior, measuring and repairing in real time, I would have to reinforce those areas in the following iterations.

I descended in a Mosquito-class drone alongside the Seer. He said nothing as we landed, his eyes just stared up at the Neskar it was massive, and it was alive.

He paced around one of the exposed pod hatches, running his armoured fingers over the bone-plated surface.

I waited.

Then came the final stage of the trial.

We reboarded the Mosquito and lifted off, ascending to low orbit. I'd arranged for Kraklak to be transferred here from the dreamscape into physical space—his abrupt reawakening left him trembling, twitching, until he regained control.

Seer watched with wary fascination as Kraklak stepped forward in a reinforced exo-suit, breathing heavily but stable.

The ascent was tense. Seer and Kraklak exchanged few words, the silence heavy. I, meanwhile, tuned them out—my mind focused on the Neskar's systems.

From orbit, I gave the mental command.

The Neskar stirred. Deep in its biomechanical gut, dual fusion cores roared to life, thrumming with purpose. Flames vented from its propulsion glands, and the hull flexed as it pushed against gravity's grip.

It rose.

Slowly at first. Then steadily, climbing through the clouds of ash and radiation. It was like watching a mountain take flight, it looked unstoppable.

It was ready.

I guided it toward Veridia. Several Zhyrraak logistics carriers awaited it along the way, ready to dock, feed, and load it with ammunition, spare parts for its cores, and reserves of organic slurry. The Neskar would be fully stocked, primed for war.

This wasn't just a ship.

It was the first of many.