Hivemind Beyond the veil

This had taken days of labour—carving this large section of the cavern, reinforcing it with resin, and laying the foundations for what would be my first true experiment in mass production. The bio-layer had been finished.

A pulsating, organic mass of grey tissue—hung from the ceiling like a massive cocoon, connected to the walls by thick, muscular cords. Veins ran through the walls, threading into the sealed biomass pods lining the walls. I could feel it all through the mental connection we shared. This was my creation. My extension.

I approached the central chamber, where the organ pulsed with a low, rhythmic beat, its internal fluids shifting as it prepared for its first true task.

The organ shuddered slightly, and I felt a surge of satisfaction.

From the opening at the bottom of the cocoon-like structure, the first drone egg was released. It dropped onto the reinforced floor with a wet plop, its surface coated in a thick membrane of resin and fluid.

I crouched beside it, watching the egg pulse as its surface started hardening into a black, pulsing sphere.

I felt excitement, the next key to my survival. This was the moment I had been waiting for. The drone eggs would be the key to unlocking everything—mass production of drones, biomass, and expansion.

They would serve my needs, shape the tunnels, and cultivate the fungus while my mind was preoccupied with larger projects.

As the first egg swelled in size, I could already sense the changes happening within. The organ had taken to its purpose with near-perfect precision, crafting the drones exactly as I had designed them—small, versatile, and efficient.

These first ones would be fungus drones, capable of manipulating the fungal farms I had set up days ago.

I reached out with my smaller hand, my clawed fingers brushing lightly over the surface of the egg. It was warm—alive. The membrane rippled under my touch, the life inside stirring as it sensed its impending birth.

The waiting felt eternal. My mind raced with possibilities as the egg grew, but I held my breath, watching as the surface began to bulge, and then split. A small crack formed along the top, and I stepped back, giving it room. The crack widened, revealing a glimpse of the creature within.

The fungus drone emerged, its chitinous body slick with embryonic fluid. Its size was smaller than I had originally planned, but it would do for now.

With a sleek segmented body covered in a dark grey exoskeleton, its abdomen houses a small storage sac for spores.

Four flexible tendrils extend from its back, allowing it to manipulate fungal spores with precision or to modify fungus strains.

Short but sturdy clawed limbs enable it to delicately peel apart fungal growth, while two sensory antennae near its head help it monitor fungal health and growth conditions.

It paused for a moment, I felt a new mental link connected to my vast mind, allowing me to access its mind and control it with a thought.

Mentally giving it instructions, it set off scuttling across the chamber floor toward one of the unfinished fungal farms.

I watched as it set to work, using its sharp claws to carefully prune the fungal growths and spread spores across the resin-coated walls. Efficient. Precise. The design worked.

Satisfied with the first drone, I turned back to the cocoon as another egg was released, then another. Over the next several hours, the organ produced a dozen eggs, each one hatching a fungus drone identical to the first.

They spread out through the chamber, busying themselves with the fungal farms, ensuring a steady flow of nutrients to the biomass pools. It was all going according to plan.

But there was still a problem.

Despite their efficiency, the fungus drones could only cultivate the strains I had provided. While they were functional, the fungal growth was still too slow to meet my needs. I required biomass production to accelerate—exponentially.

Days passed in a blur of experimentation.

I manipulated the fungal strains, splicing and mutating them, observing the results with clinical detachment. Some strains grew faster, but their nutrient yield was low, barely worth the effort.

Others produced more biomass, but their growth was sluggish, too slow for my purpose.

I stood over one of the fungal patches, frustrated, as yet another strain failed to meet my expectations. The small cluster of growth withered under my touch, its spores weak and ineffective.

The drones scurried past me, unaware of my frustration, continuing their work with mechanical precision. They were doing exactly what I had designed them to do, but it wasn’t enough. I needed to go further. I required something new.

Walking to one section of the wall,

scratching out designs and formulas on the resin walls of my central chamber.

There had to be a way to boost the growth cycle—to create a strain that could produce biomass in a fraction of the time.

Finally, after countless failures, I found it. A strain that responded to the changes in the atmosphere of the enclosed chambers, a strain that could adapt to the resin itself, feeding off the biological components within the walls.

I had bred a fast-growing fungus strain that, once introduced to the drones, would propagate rapidly.

I spliced it into the fungal farms, watching with mounting anticipation. On the first day, the growth was sluggish, but by the second, the change was undeniable. The fungus spread like wildfire across the resin-coated surfaces.

The drones worked tirelessly, cultivating the new strain, feeding it into the sealed biomass pools, which now bubbled with fresh, viscous material. I could feel the energy building, the biomass growing at an accelerated rate. This was it. This was what I had been waiting for.

By the end of the third day, the biomass reserves were full.

I stood at the centre of the chamber, watching as the cocoon released another series of eggs—this time, for the burrower drones.

The burrowers had the same standard dark grey exoskeleton it was larger reaching my first set of chest arms

The drone possesses four jointed limbs ending in specialized digging claws that allow multi-directional excavation.

Equipped with resin excretion glands along their abdomen, they secrete a durable resin that hardens upon exposure to vacuum, ensuring tunnel stability.

As the first egg hatched, the burrower scuttled forward, its instincts driving it toward the tunnels. I followed it, watching as it began to dig into the wall, its claws cutting through stone and metal with ease.

Another egg hatched, and another, until a small swarm of burrowers was hard at work, expanding the tunnel system I had started.

Their movements were efficient, and precise, carving out new passageways and reinforcing them with resin as they went. The tunnels grew deeper, branching out into a complex network that would soon stretch across this section of the moon.

I watched them work, my mind racing with new possibilities. I felt happy I could soon turn to more important tasks.