Hive mind Beyond the veil

The world beyond the Arc-Ship's protective barrier shimmered with surreal beauty and unspoken menace. A vast expanse of unbroken white stretched in every direction, interrupted only by floating objects that were geometric, abstract, and translucent.

They drifted in solemn silence, strange artefacts of another dimension. Each form varied in size and shape, but when they drifted too close, they would shudder and flicker, repelling one another with an instinctive aversion—as if the space itself rejected intimacy. Nothing touched in the Nexus unless it was meant to be consumed.

But it wasn't the floating objects that unsettled most captains. It was the cracks.

Black fractures marred the white infinity, like tears in fabric left too long in the dark. From these fissures, spiralling tendrils of darkness crept outward, they were slow, deliberate, and hungry. They twisted through the void like serpents made of anti-light, ensnaring anything foolish or unlucky enough to stray near.

The Nexus was unstable and corrupted.

Infested with what some called the Blight. Others simply whispered it was a sickness—a cosmic infection that rotted reality itself.

Orka–Zol floated silently in his flooded command sphere, peering out beyond the translucent walls of the ship's shielding. His long, sinuous body flexed, the brilliant green of his scales gleaming faintly in the ethereal light. Blue artificial eyes, watched the spirals twist in the distance.

Around him, the crew rested in their spheres, while the Ark-Ship Zonruk Divo continued forward. It was nearly time.

He flicked a mental command. The V.I. summoned multiple screens across the curvature of the fluidic glass, each one showing status updates on the ship's internal cargo: clone labour units, mining and fabrication equipment, and the real prize—a modified capital vessel refitted as a mobile shipyard. It occupied most of the lower decks.

"Another cursed supply run," he muttered to himself. "Every time they dredge up plans to expand to this forgotten sector, some poor creature gets handed the anchor."

"May the tides drown fortune's favourites—those chosen by luck often sink fastest."

Still, the pay was high. Better than circuit-running weapons and bodies between Triumvirate wars. It was less death and more logistics.

A timer ticked down across the nearest panel. Five minutes until re-entry.

He coiled out of his comfort position, gliding toward the exo-suit. Once inside, he initiated neural connection protocols. The suit sealed around his body with a hiss of pressure equalization.

"All hands," he announced, his voice carrying through comms and liquid alike, "five minutes until emergence. Final checks now. Any junior who damages their sphere or misaligns their suit… will be cleaning out this whole Ark with their tongue."

He let the statement hang, dry and sardonic, while the crew carried out their final tasks.

He felt the sharp pinch of the first suppressor needle. A cocktail of painkillers, stabilizers, and anti-shock agents surged into his bloodstream. His vision blurred briefly—then cleared, sharper than ever.

And then it came.

The Nexus began to split.

Reality peeled back like a curtain. On the left side of the visual field, a storm of blue was shifting, thrashing, and accelerating. On the right, a slow river of red, flowing like syrup through glass.

The Ark-Ship cut the dimensional fabric and slipped back into known space.

Even with the suppressants, Orka–Zol felt his head throb. Each heartbeat echoed like an explosion behind his eyes. He gritted his teeth, gripping the sphere's edge as the ship realigned.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Then calm returned.

The ship stabilized.

The V.I. chimed.

"Unidentified fleet detected. Approaching from vector 033—visual range."

He narrowed his eyes and had the external feeds display on his primary screen.

Battle-scarred vessels drifted into view. Blackened hulls. Torn plates. Exposed subsystems and interiors.

"Hail them," he ordered.

A comm channel opened. "This is Ark-Ship Zonruk Divo, Triumvirate Union. State your intentions and halt your approach, or we will fire."

The fleet slowed. Moments later, static filled the channel—then stabilized.

A face appeared.

It was a Grithan his face scarred and eyes were sunken.

"This is Overseer Aegirarch, expedition fleet 567-4903-21. Requesting docking rights and immediate medical assistance."

Orka–Zol studied the face in silence for a moment before replying. "Overseer, report the state of your expedition and assets."

"Expedition failed. Significant losses in clone labour. All Grithan forces have been wiped out. Native resistance is widespread. All Infrastructure lost."

"Understood. A shuttle will be dispatched. Remain stationary."

He turned to his second-in-command, Trakuk, whose dark blue scales flickered with uncertainty. "Run his ID through the manifest. Prepare a cell. Full decontamination protocols."

"Shall we interrogate the clones as well?"

"Yes. Bring them all aboard."

Twelve minutes later, Aegirarch was isolated in a decon sphere. His armour was scorched. His left side was riddled with old plasma burns, but his gaze was calm.

"Overseer," Orka–Zol said as he entered. "Begin."

Without resistance, Aegirarch began to recount the expedition's collapse: the betrayal of the Hydrarchs, the internal power struggles, the civil war that followed, and the unleashing of native resistance.

He spoke of biological horrors that defied logic.

Orka–Zol listened for hours, stopping only to hammer him with contradictory data and increasingly pointed questions. The story held together disturbingly well.

Eventually, he leaned back and said coldly, "Overseer Aegirarch… you were sent here to forge a new frontier. Instead, you deliver tales of unending war, of unstoppable enemies. My records show the Valurians were pacifists."

Aegirarch's reply was immediate.

"That data is obsolete. Their mastery of biological integration eclipses much of our own in many fields."

Orka–Zol stared at him, expression unreadable.

"A Nullite-rich system… irradiated and lost. Your failure will be judged harshly by the Triumvirate when we return."

Aegirarch didn't hesitate to shout back.

"That system is uninhabitable. We're not fighting for territory any more. We're fighting for our survival against horrors you couldn't comprehend."

Orka–Zol rose from the seat, scales rippling with suppressed anger.

"Then let's hope the Triumvirate sees it that way."

Aegirarch's voice was cut short as the chamber lights turned deep blue.

Alarms blared, reverberating through the hull like warning cries in a drowned temple.

Orka–Zol's eyes narrowed. He pulled up his V.I. display and linked directly to the command deck.

"Trakuk. Report."

"Unknown contacts approaching," came the clipped reply. "They've ignored all hails. Visual and spectral scans show anomalous hull designs. We estimate over seven thousand vessels—and the number is still climbing."

Orka–Zol's fins flared with tension. "Time until contact?"

"Two hours."

He didn't hesitate. "Start defensive protocols. Deploy all available defensive assets in the hull. I want all defences ready to engage at a moment's notice. This ship will not fall to a primitive species."

He turned from the observation sphere, leaving Aegirarch confined within his cell. The clones remained silent and huddled together, stripped of all gear and dignity.

The halls of Zonruk Divo buzzed to life.

Crew members swam and surged through pressurized lanes and aquatic conduits. Lights strobed red now, illuminating layers of defences sliding into place along external hull segments. Defensive protocols sang through the network.

On the command deck, Orka–Zol arrived in full combat exo-suit. "Trakuk—have the V.I. begin a full-spectrum tactical analysis. I want a complete threat profile."

"The enemy exhibit's behaviour consistent with swarm tactics," Trakuk said. "Reports are consistent with Aegirarch's files they rely entirely on speed, swarm tactics, and physical boarding. No know long-range weapons have ever been used."

"Parasites," Orka–Zol muttered. "Good. Then we can burn them before they ever touch the hull. Start full burn away from the Nexus anchor point. Move the damaged fleet with us. We'll out-distance them while the Nexus Drive charges."

"Acknowledged."

"Plot a wide loop—Let's see exactly what the expedition has been facing."

The fleet surged forward, engines igniting in perfect synchrony. A new enemy trailed behind the Zonruk Divo as it led the others into a spiralling run across the star system.

Like sharks drawn to blood, they gave no space, no rest.

Five hours had passed. They kept coming, they were slower but relentless.

They weren't ships, not in the traditional sense. They pulsed with heat signatures that hinted at organic mass wrapped over metal, or something stranger. Every scan yielded conflicting results.

"They're alive," Trakuk whispered. "Every one of them."

Orka–Zol watched their pursuit. "What kind of ecosystem could produce this scale of life… and organize it with purpose?"

Reports from the Hydrarch files came to mind. Early sightings surfaced from asteroids responding to coded frequencies.

Valurian influence.

The Triumvirate had dismissed the Valurians as pacifists. But these living vessels bore technology that surpassed everything.

"If some Valurians survived," Orka–Zol murmured. "And if they can breed and direct these… this could be the future of warfare."

———

In the dim containment cells, the clones huddled in silence—naked, stripped of armour and weapons. They lay curled against the cold alloy walls, exhaustion carved into every line of their bodies.

But something else was with them.

From beneath skin and fur, the insects began to emerge.

Tiny chitinous shapes wriggled free, sliding from beneath their host's flesh. They came from mouths, ears, and noses. They crawled in silence, antennae twitching.

I studied the containment units, mapping every vent, every stress fracture and cable I could see.

It seems the Nullite generators are still present, cutting me from the rest of my consciousness.

Well, I have a few days before my main mind will arrive in full force and attempt to capture the ship. But for now, subtlety was needed.

More insects joined. They chewed through the wall, passing undetected through air ducts and drainage systems, mapping corridors and pressure systems.

After several minutes, I breached a maintenance tunnel.

And now… it could begin.

I required the minds of crew members. Their memories would give me access codes. I would have to infect them with parasites and make everyone an agent.