Hive mind Beyond the veil

My rapid burn into the inner reaches of the system went without incident. Multiple listening arrays kept eyes on any emissions coming from the inner sphere, and they gave nothing back, only silence across every band.

That was a favourable sign.

I would rather not make first contact with anything sapient so soon. I preferred a relatively mundane expansion into the unknown solar systems surrounding mine than to stumble into another war so soon.

It will be a long coast to the nearest planetary body, but this is my first real attempt at extra-solar colonisation. I can only hope the system offers worlds that are habitable or at least amenable to terraforming. If not, I will make them so.

My home system was turning out to be far more troublesome to reshape than I had anticipated. Veridia's ecosystems had collapsed, but at least its destruction was measured.

The other worlds had fared far worse. Their radiation levels still twisted and mutated my drones, forcing me to produce new iterations again and again just to keep pace with the contamination in different regions.

Imreth was undergoing an aggressive terraforming campaign. Its sky remained choked with ash and radioactive dust, and its temperatures swung wildly between extremes. In a few years, it might freeze entirely if left unattended.

My alterations to the planet's flora were designed for long-term stability, with hardy strains that would thrive in the radioactive and toxic environment and assist in the slow reclamation. I chose to dig deep into the crust, excavating and reinforcing vast subterranean regions that would serve as stable foundations for my expansion.

Some parts of Imreth were simply useless. The planet had become an earthquake hotspot, tremors rolling through the crust at regular intervals. The artificial seas and oceans I created were irradiated, unstable and toxic. Entire swathes of oceanic territory were effectively dead zones for now.

Still, I pushed forward. I began experimenting with the first megastructures in the system, anchoring them across planetary surfaces as launch platforms for the new shipyards. The first large orbital yards were rising in the void, forming the biomass farms the system would one day depend on.

Ivinal was mostly secure. It provided an abundance of uncontaminated water, but its mineral reserves fell short of what I needed to expand there in force.

Phaedra had been abandoned by every clone that survived the war. I was hollowing the moon out, expanding my labyrinth of tunnels until the entire satellite would become my bastion.

Veridia was progressing more steadily, undergoing controlled terraforming as I repaired the surface. My initial plan had been to recreate Ivinal's environment, but eventually, I chose to commit my expansion underground as my new standard.

I had genetic archives of the original flora, detailed enough to reconstruct its once-lush landscapes. Some of the fauna could be restored as well. It would be a long project, unfolding over decades or centuries, but one I found strangely exciting. I had an entire world to sculpt at my leisure.

I even considered importing alien life from distant regions I explored, purely to observe how ecosystems might evolve over the next thousand years. A harmless experiment. Mostly. I might create an entire planet of invasive species.

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The industrialisation of the asteroid belts, the Shattered Veil and the Ebon Ring, was proceeding smoothly enough. There were minor setbacks. A few of Aegirarch's old ships still hid among the rocks, lying in wait, forcing me to deploy half my ships.

There, virtual intelligence had been programmed to use randomised patrol routes and ambush points. Even in death, Aegirarch's plans remain an irritation. I should have killed him slowly.

Kordar and Morrath, the last two planets, offered little of lasting value. Some mineral veins, a few pockets of uncontaminated Nullite in low and mid-purity, and little else. The majority of contaminated deposits were now useless, they were far too unstable for anything.

But overall, the system was coming together. I had spread across every world, carving deeper and expanding wider. Orbital outposts dotted the void, and more stations were created.

Rogue clone cells still lurked across the system. I watched them as an experiment in prolonged isolation and group survival, ticking down as rations and spare parts dwindled.

I kept broadcasting offers of unconditional surrender. Very few answered. I did not mind. I knew where each pocket was. It was more informative to see how long they would persist and which improvisations they would resort to when supplies ran out.

The post-war clean-up rolled on, system-wide. Recovery teams scraped hulls, salvaged armour, stripped vehicles and catalogued what remained of the expedition for reverse engineering. A handful of old weapons still misfired during recovery, but nothing I could not contain.

What fascinated me most were the Hydrarch assets. Their ships' metallurgy and integrated systems outclassed the rest of the fleet, and their clone guards were genetically superior to the average clone.

Even so, their genetics were no match for the alterations I had already grafted onto the clones that chose to join me.

The mobile shipyard the ark brought in proved invaluable. It allowed me to patch damaged hulls, recondition battered systems and return several assets to service. I still had another four hundred thousand clones in suspended animation to account for.

I had handed most of the repaired ships to the collective, and they took them out to reclaim captured gear and scavenge supplies. Even with the salvage operations humming, a restless edge remained in me.

I kept expecting the next battle, craving the trillion sensations of sending drones into the breach, feeling them die and then ordering the next wave. Without it, the etheric currents around me had quieted, and a portion of my mind grew bored and listless.

That boredom redirected my attention. I began to explore the patch of world the clones were building. It was one of the few areas spared total ruin. The surface was still poisoned, but the immediate danger had abated enough for construction to proceed.

Large domes under construction rose from the surface, linked by a network of tunnels that fed into my own deep expansion.

Each habitat offered a measured parcel of space for a clone to call its own, some quarters even joined directly to my tunnel system. The first public communal structure they erected was a bar, it was an earnest attempt to boost morale.

Inside, the walls were dominated by a single mural of Veridia as it had been before the wall, painted across the length of the room. It traced the conflict in broad strokes, from the first invasion to the final collapse of Aegirarch's forces.

"I still think building this first was a mistake," Seer grumbled from his seat. His armour and weapons were gone, he wore the casual robes that had become the clone standard, with different colours and patterns marking campaigns and battlefields.

The designs announced where a clone had fought, which battles they had survived, and who had lasted the longest.

"If you'd suggested we build a farm first, they would have hanged you," I said, pointing at the mural. "You'd have your own section, right there, picturing your corpse."

Seer snorted and sipped his drink. "Would have been easier than being appointed leader of this rabble. They won't let me retire."

"I suppose you still haven't decided what to do with your sleeping brothers," I said, watching two clones argue over another experimental concoction.

When I offered minor genetic tweaks to extend their lives, some asked for stronger digestion. That led to a list of toxic beverages nobody sensible would try, and yet they mixed them anyway.

Seer waved a hand toward a cluster of figures in the bar's corner. "We still have stragglers wandering about. If their numbers jump, we could have trouble."

Those particular clones kept their armour on, unmodified, the standard black with orange highlights. They sat like statues, always watching the entrances and exits.

"You have to choose soon with the rest of the collective," I told him. "I cannot keep them frozen forever. The cryos are ageing and breakdowns will start killing them."

He nodded and ordered another drink from a nearby droid. The machine obliged, beeping before moving on.

"About first contact, I still say the Sil'narae are your best choice," Seer said, leaning forward. "The galaxy is too small to hide in. And it gets smaller by the day."

"I am cautious," I admitted. "Why does everyone trust the Sil'narae so blindly?"

"They are the architects of the Halo net and the Nexus," he said. "No one would notice a new node in the Halo net if the Sil'narae didn't want anyone to know. Besides, you could plunder so much mundane knowledge from the net. It has to be tempting."

"Tempting," I repeated. "But I will remain isolated for a few more years. I want options with a proper fallback if another war breaks out."

"Typical," he said, and we fell silent. The bar's chatter swelled. A new track started through the speakers, the pattern unfamiliar until the beat hit.

Of course, the clones had scavenged. I. composing its music now. The song sounded crude. But it was catchy.