Hive mind Beyond the veil

This operation would be difficult, but not impossible. Coordination was key to my success.

Even with the Nullite generators severing most of my connection, I could still feel my insects scattered throughout the ship, giving me trickles of awareness.

Slipping through maintenance ducts and drainage shafts gave me new insight into the Grithan ark ship design. Every surface was sealed against contamination, every pipe layered against corrosion. The ship was more advanced than I had anticipated—painstakingly maintained by both its crew and an army of robotic caretakers.

When I found crew members, they were rarely idle. Most were stationed within their spheres or focused entirely on operational tasks, with only a few moving through the hallways.

I approached, carefully, crawling along conduits and clinging to bulkheads, scanning for sensors and passive monitors. I chose only the blind spots. A few isolated crew members left their exo-suits unattended, resting beside their pressurised spheres.

That was my entry point.

The insects crawled into the exo-suits. They burrowed into padding and ventilation valves, planting parasite seed-nodes in hidden seams and along the neural connectors before retreating.

Once implanted, I couldn't monitor them directly, not with the Nullite interference, but they knew their tasks. Each one had simple instructions: stay dormant, observe, gather intelligence and take control without risks.

While gradually initiating the symbiotic process, the host's mind would begin to accept the parasite's influence—subtle at first, then absolute. In time, they would trust every thought the parasite whispered, mistaking my will for their own.

The applications for this will suit my future goals to gradually take over organisations or possibly nations.

The first wave of agents was tasked with helping me map the internal structures: airlock systems, command pathways, pressure cycles, and escape hatch protocols. Most importantly, I wanted to understand how the crew responded to boardings—how they moved, where they fell back, who took command.

I needed to know who carried weapons. Who stood between me and the engine room?

The more intel returned through fragmented signals, the clearer the plan became. My second wave of parasites would be deployed to the lower decks—where most of the crew resided and activity was less focused. There, my agents could blend more easily. Spread the infection slowly.

Imitation was survival.

But there was another problem—one I couldn't ignore.

This ship ran on antimatter.

That meant an explosive risk of catastrophic scale. And only the captain and first officer had the authority to trigger the failsafe. Detonation would vaporise the ship, which could not be allowed.

Several hours passed before I saw it—confirmation that the infiltration had begun. One of my agents, a female technician in an exo-suit, passed by a corridor I had marked. She casually raised her hand and made a two-finger gesture. A peace sign.

Signal received.

I scurried to her hand and entered a storage compartment tucked along her suit's back. More followed. One by one, other compromised crew members began ferrying parasite payloads to hidden compartments and unused maintenance zones.

The plan was working.

But there was still one obstacle I had yet to overcome—the captain.

He held unrestricted access to every level, every hatch, every system. With a single command, he could seal and vent entire sections of the ship. And none of the standard crew, especially those of low priority, were ever permitted near the command core while the ship was under high alert.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

There would be no easy infiltration route.

Which meant I would need Plan B.

Clones.

They were sealed in cryogenic suspension, locked away in full hibernation. Once modified and awakened, they would form my assault force. Over a hundred thousand drones, ready for immediate deployment.

———

Three days had passed.

The chase hadn't stopped.

The swarm kept its relentless pace, always hovering just behind the Ark-Ship—never falling back, never surging ahead. They stalked the vessel like predators playing with prey. The only small mercy was that none of them possessed long-range weapons.

Orka–Zol had grown used to the pressure. The tension of the first day had dulled, replaced by a calm veil. He had all the reports, all the logs, all the fragments of footage from Aegirarch's expedition. And he had begun to study the threat in full.

It was extraordinary.

Almost mythic.

Stories of vast, living vessels had existed in the outer fringe for centuries—murmurs of creatures born in the void. But now over seven thousand of them were trailing his ship. They were real, visible, and alive.

Yet despite the scale of the threat, something gnawed at him.

Aegirarch had brought no samples. None.

And that wasn't an oversight. The reports had mentioned collected genetic material, even dormant drones—but not a single specimen had been transferred back. He'd deliberately avoided bringing any physical evidence aboard.

Which meant he knew something Orka–Zol didn't.

The next interrogation would be far less polite once they exited this solar system and returned to the Nexus.

His thoughts were interrupted by an urgent system ping—an alert from the cargo hold.

Clone pods were going active.

He immediately pulled the feed onto his display. One of his crew was inside the storage chamber, manually interacting with the pod interfaces.

"Hila," he snapped over comms, "what are you doing?"

Her voice came through the channel, crackling slightly. "Captain—I received multiple errors from the clone stasis units. I'm investigating. Several pods are misfiring. No signs of sabotage, just… anomalies."

"Put them back into full suspension. Immediately. We are on high alert."

"Yes, captain."

He scowled and ordered the V.I. to pull diagnostic logs. One long row of stasis pods showed systemic errors. Cheap manufacture, likely. A common cost-cutting measure. And one that might now cost him everything.

"Take a full team with you. I want a total inspection of the clone bays. No more surprises from the lower decks."

He shook his head in disgust. An unknown alien force pursuing his vessel—and now defective cargo, might pose a greater threat than what lay outside.

Hours passed.

He cycled between dozens of feeds—monitoring ship integrity, crew logs, and cargo diagnostics. He reviewed every piece of Aegirarch's damaged fleet. Most of them were damaged beyond repair, with propulsion barely operational. Not worth salvaging.

An idea formed. He could rig them to overload and send them spiralling back toward the enemy and see how they reacted.

But then came multiple alerts.

His V.I. switched, showing increased internal movement within his ship. Armed clones were advancing through the ship.

Orka–Zol's eyes widened in fury.

How?

He dove into the ship's surveillance feeds. Multiple decks lit up with red markers. The clones were spreading through auxiliary corridors, armed, and moving tactically.

Security footage showed the crew being subdued, disarmed, and herded into sealed rooms. Whole sectors were falling with little resistance.

He wasted no time.

"Activate full lockdown," he barked. "Seal off all critical systems. Engage all interior defences. I want nothing breaching the command deck and engine room."

"Confirmed," Trakuk said. His fins twitched with unease.

Orka–Zol switched screens again—focusing on the prison wing.

There stood Aegirarch, fully suited in one of the ship's white exo-suits, surrounded by a squad of clones. He was issuing orders, and coordinating attacks.

The comms crackled as Orka–Zol opened the line.

"Aegirarch. You do this now? Do you understand what you're invoking? The Triumvirate will obliterate you for this."

"Stand down, Orka–Zol," Aegirarch replied smoothly. "There's another way out of this crisis. We can negotiate terms—."

"You're insane," Orka–Zol snapped. "This ship is not yours to command. You'll doom us all."

"You're already doomed," Aegirarch said, voice ice-cold. "Better the ship survive in new hands than fall with yours."

Orka–Zol killed the transmission.

"Trakuk, begin full V. I override on the lower decks. Reinforce blast doors. Move all armed security teams and drones to vital bulkheads. No clone passes this floor."

"Understood."

The clones were spreading fast. Surveillance feeds flickered with static as they destroyed cameras and sealed off monitoring systems. The entire crew's quarters were taken. Some sections flooded—an improvised method to disable the opposition. The clones had even begun preparing their more advanced power armour from storage.

He watched the clone advance on several feeds. Turrets were holding the line—for now. But the clones were focused and methodical in their push.

And unless stopped, it was only a matter of time before they reached critical systems.

———

I navigated the ship using Aegirarch's body like a puppeteer, orchestrating a grand performance. While Orka–Zol remained obsessed with containing the clone uprising, I turned my attention to other objectives.

Behind the distraction, my agents were already working to breach the most important objective. One of the Nullite generators.

Four infected crew members stood around it as I approached. Sparks danced off exposed wiring. The generator sputtered and dimmed.

"How much longer?" I asked.

Hila didn't look up. "A few more minutes, Trumek. Wait… wait… okay—done."

And then it happened.

The numbness that had dulled me for so long like a blunted nerve slipped away.

Connection.

I felt it wash over me like thunder beneath still water. Within seconds, my entire consciousness surged back into alignment.

I was whole.

The flood of data returned, millions of impulses and instincts layered on top of one another—every drone, every parasite, and every ship giving chase.

I turned toward the four crew members. Through their visors, I saw their anticipation. Their loyalty and their whispered hopes—so lovingly shaped by the parasites—still echoed in their thoughts.

I sent one signal.

One.

The whispers stopped.

Their joy vanished. Confusion flickered across their faces. And then came the horror.

They stepped back, instinct clawing at their obedience. One dropped a tool.

"Don't be afraid," I said softly, spreading my voice into the comms of their helmets. "Your service has not gone unnoticed."

They didn't respond—only stared, trembling.

"You and your fellow crew have aided in the next step of my expansion. You'll be rewarded… in ways your species cannot yet comprehend."

They tried to run.

They didn't get far, as they were captured by my clones.