Hive mind Beyond the veil

Pushing deeper into the tunnel network was slow and brutal. But time favoured me. One by one, their defences crumbled. The once-formidable clone fortifications were torn apart by sheer numbers and relentless pressure.

Every corridor I conquered, every node I overwhelmed, brought me closer to full control of the mountain.

There was only one stronghold left—Aegirarch's command chamber.

It was the most heavily fortified point in the entire mountain complex. Dozens of defensive structures, hardened choke points, entrenched clones, and automated drones had been deployed to protect it.

To breach it, I flooded the corridors with overwhelming numbers. Wave after wave of drones pushed forward. The defenders held, but could not win in a last stand. When it was over, the chamber was silent—strewn with broken barricades, scorched drones, and the bodies of the dead.

All but one.

He stood alone.

His power armour was ruined—burnt, scarred, and clawed. Plasma burns laced his frame, his left arm was gone at the elbow, and his cracked helmet revealed a bloodied eye that stared unblinking. He had killed several of my drones in close combat before finally falling back into the final room.

He still stood, guarding a sealed door, holding a battered rifle. It was useless, nearly split in two. But his stance never wavered.

I halted the drones and spoke through all their mouths, projecting my voice across the room.

"Tell me, clone. Are you the last defender? Or do the rest of your brothers remain inside with your master?"

His eye flinched. The questions had caught him off guard—but his discipline held. He didn't answer.

"Are you deaf or have you lost your hearing in battle?"

At last, he responded, his voice hoarse and filled with exhaustion.

"You… will not pass."

I could see it in his body—his time was almost up. Blood loss, severe nerve damage, and numerous broken bones. The toll was immense.

"Are these your final words?" I asked. "Would you not rather surrender?"

There was silence.

Then he roared and lunged forward.

The rifle in his hand was used more like a club. He swung it at one of my Infiltrators, but a Heavy caught him mid-strike, slamming him into the wall. He struggled, screaming the creed.

"We are the Overseer's warriors! We are the last line of defence!"

He thrashed, broken and defiant, shouting even as blood pooled beneath him.

But he was too weak.

I ordered the Heavy to carry him away from the sanctum. He would be fixed and preserved. This was a good chance to study the reactions of the other clones upon seeing the last survivor of a foreign batch.

Now only the sealed inner sanctum remained.

The doors and surrounding walls were made of an unusual material, reinforced with deep concrete layers and an unknown metallic composite.

I studied it closely.

Then, the walls hummed, and the static of hidden speakers crackled to life.

"Why did you spare him?"

Even distorted, I recognized his voice instantly.

Aegirarch

"Curiosity," I replied. "But you will not be spared."

"What are you?" he demanded.

I paused.

"I am Trumek."

There was a silence, before he spoke again, "You mock me. Even now." His voice was cold and bitter.

"No. There is simply nothing more for us to discuss. I want your mind, Overseer."

"I could detonate everything in here. Ending it all."

"You could," I agreed. "But you haven't. You're stalling."

As he spoke, more beetles climbed into position along the wall. I pulled all my forces back as they primed and detonated on cue.

When the ash cleared, the door was still intact.

Beneath the soot, I saw a gleaming, burnished copper-like alloy. Blast marks danced across it, but there was no structural damage.

Aegirarch spoke again.

"You don't have anything that can breach this. This sanctum is Triumvirate-forged in their first-rate forges. Even the Hydrarchs knew the value of a proper panic chamber."

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"I have time. You do not."

The material intrigued me. It was reactive, adaptive, and dense. Perhaps useful in future drone plating. Or perhaps mimicking the material design with biological matter.

Then his voice returned.

"What happened to Ankrae and Kraklak?"

"They're alive," I replied.

Silence. Then a long pause lingered for several minutes.

"Why?"

"They're useful," I ordered Acid Spitters forward. They sprayed the walls, but even the strongest compounds barely etched the surface. I did a brief review of the calculations while I studied the damage. At most, it would take a few more days to breach it with my current methods.

"Were you created by the Valurians?"

"No. I predate them. I predate your species."

"Impossible."

"It is the truth."

All physical attempts had failed. The wall was too well-constructed. I even attempted to reach into Aegirarch's mind through the etheric realm, but a dense Nullite field blocked all projection. His sanctum was shielded, both physically and metaphysically.

So I escalated.

I had a Neskar begin warhead modification, creating a higher yield, enriched with volatile acid compounds.

As I pulled back my drones from the mountain interior, one of the last speakers activated again.

"Tell me something, Trumek. Why did you not rise when we butchered the Valurians? You let us cleanse them to the last."

"I was asleep."

No reply came for several minutes.

Then laughter. It was hollow and bitter.

"When the Triumvirate learns of you—when the rest of the galaxy realizes what you are—they will move to exterminate you."

"Maybe."

All others were drones ordered to retreat from they mountain. I left behind one Infiltrator to continue the conversation.

The warhead, was delivered by a reinforced heavy, and placed before the door.

———

The room trembled—dust cascaded from the ceiling as low vibrations rumbled through the mountain. The hiss of chemical reactions echoed faintly.

Each monitor flickered through spectrums, struggling to cut through the corrosive fog outside. Infrared, ultraviolet, lidar… They all showed the same thing.

Death. Crawling closer.

The acid cloud was now licking the outer sanctum wall. It chewed through hardened layers of composite Myra like rot through flesh.

"Estimate time until the wall is breached," he said.

The V.I. beeped, running calculations. He glanced around the chamber. There were only a few viable escape routes.

Breach expected in three standard galactic hours.

Aegirarch's eyes narrowed.

"Assess escape vectors. Any remaining hatches?"

Viable route confirmed: submerged passage, lower aquifer. Discovery probability: 92%.

"Reinforce the suit. Prime the plasma rifle. Power up the extra Nullite generators. Prepare for forced evacuation once the breach is confirmed."

Confirmed.

The surrounding walls unfolded like steel petals. Robotic arms whirred to life and closed in on his form. They hissed as fresh plating was sealed onto his back, new coolant packs slotted into place, and injector ports loaded with whatever pharmaceuticals remained.

Then came the sound, it was louder, closer. The southern wall groaned. Sections of the base started collapsing, shaking the room.

His time was up.

He hit a recessed control on the side of the chamber. Water surged into the room from hidden ducts. The floor shuddered and gave way.

He dropped.

The water carried him down, through a pressurized shaft, and into the guts of the mountain. He tumbled through dark currents, spinning in the black until he was spat out into a vast subterranean lake.

He rose, breath steady, armour steaming.

The HUD flickered briefly—Radiation levels: Lethal and rising. He ignored it.

The cavern was immense, lit only by bioluminescent algae crawling across old Valurian ruins. Stone arches wept from the ceilings. Bridges sagged and towers leaned with age.

He moved forward.

Every step crunched on loose tiles and ancient structures. The radiation counter ticked like a heartbeat.

Still, he moved forward. He knew what awaited him if he stopped.

He slipped into the ruins, entering a labyrinth of tunnels. The walls dripped moisture and echoed with distant groans. Behind him, somewhere in the darkness—an explosion shocked the entire cave. Dust fell from stalactites.

His exo-suit deployed several aerial cameras, each one mapping and monitoring. They reported movement. Numerous hostiles were closing in, and their numbers increased each second.

He paused, and scanned the tunnel as shapes lunged from the dark—he killed without hesitation, dropping multiple targets. His suit absorbed impacts, as he pushed forward.

"Tell me, Aegirarch—what was your escape plan?"

Trumeks voice echoed through the tunnels, drowning out every other sound.

"Do you intend to fight to your end like your clones? They fought with devotion for your safety".

His V.I. beeped, noticing stealth variants about to flank him from both sides. He spun and fired. They dropped dead.

His suit hissed—an emotional suppressant injected into his bloodstream. The rage faded. Focus returned.

He advanced.

More enemies came. He cut them down—some with bursts of plasma, others with melee. He crushed skulls beneath his boots, smashed drones with the butt of his gun.

"Keep me alive," he told the V.I.

The machine complied. Pain suppressants. Stimulants. Adrenaline. Whatever was left in the system was injected into his bloodstream.

His weapon overheated. Warnings flashed. He ignored them.

He fought on—until the rifle cracked and glowed red with heat. Charging forward, he used it like a blunt instrument—bashing his way through as his V.I. routed life support power into exo-suit servos.

He fought with hands, fists, and elbows—shattering carapace and bone.

His HUD flashed a warning that Nullite generators failing

The pain came next.

It was blinding and throbbing. His head pounded as the world blurred.

"Inject painkillers," he gasped.

Another needle. Another chemical flood.

But it wasn't enough.

The world warped. His vision fractured. Sounds twisted into whispers.

Then—voices.

Not over comms.

In his mind.

"Every plan you made was born of desperation. From the moment, they offered you as a bargaining chip."

"No," he muttered.

"You knew this was coming. You calculated it. You, fellow Grithan couldn't see what you saw."

"I do not fear you, Nethros."

"Yes, you do."

His thoughts twisted into knots.

Sentences collapsed halfway through forming. Words dissolved before they could even reach his mouth. His mind, now, slid like oil across broken glass.

What was he going to say?

He didn't know.

He didn't remember.

Somewhere, far away, the hiss of his V.I. priming the next injection whispered through the static of his thoughts. But it felt irrelevant. Like a notification in a world that no longer mattered.

He stood alone, deep within the broken skeleton of old Valurian ruins. His armour trembled—not from damage, but from the tremor of failing control. His body was still his… but his mind?

His mind was drifting.

The abomination's presence pulsed through him like venom through blood. Not fast. Not violent. But slow—like roots curling into the marrow. Like heat bleeding through a sealed door.

He tried to resist. To compartmentalize. Yet, resistance didn't matter any more.

Because now he was connected.

To something ancient.

Vast.

Indescribable.

His vision expanded. He saw fractal shapes spiralling across the walls of the world. Structures that shouldn't exist. Concepts that felt like they had mass.

Knowledge he wasn't supposed to understand—but he did. Every part of him did. It surged through his neurons, bypassing thought, and burning into his memory.

He glimpsed at concepts of creations dwarfing the size of moons.

He saw ecosystems designed for war.

He felt languages spoken in spores.

And it didn't stop.

It kept growing. Expanding. Digging deeper.

He was no longer thinking. He was experiencing—without context, without filter, without end.

And somewhere in that expanding vastness, s