Hivemind Beyond the veil

The screen flickers in my vision once more, a sharp pulse of clarity snapping me out of the sluggish crawl of updates. The final line appears, the last fragment of data slotting into place:

“Update complete. All systems synchronized.”

A dull hum vibrates through my consciousness, a quiet resonance as my neural interface fully integrates with my brain. The translucent screen overlays my sight again, this time clearer, and sharper. A new interface blossoms into view, intricate and detailed, with dozens of options and readouts sprawling across the display.

“Administrator Control: Active.”

Feeling the weight of the title settle into my mind. I glance through the menus, the sheer amount of data overwhelming at first, but my mind quickly adjusts, filtering the information into manageable sections.

Status:

Neural Mapping: 100%

Cyberware Compatibility: Fully Integrated

Drone Command Authority: Unrestricted

Additional Units Available: 0

Network Status: Down

I pause, my mind catching on to the flashing red text beside Network Status. A sense of isolation washes over me—cut off from the greater systems I had hoped to connect to.

I attempt to troubleshoot, diving deeper into the network diagnostics. Lines of code scroll across the screen, trying to establish a link with anything outside my immediate vicinity, but there’s nothing.

I send a soft ping out through the network channels—a call into the dark.

No response.

It’s not surprising, given the state of the battlefield and the enemy’s disruption tactics. The surface is likely flooded with interference, jamming any external communication. It’s just me and the drones for now.

I shift my focus, letting the diagnostics run in the background as I pull up the Administrator overview. Reviewing the system, it was mostly focused on the previous terraforming project and was terminated after the attack.

Administrator Overview Tabs:

1. System Status – Current terraforming and planetary conditions.

2. Terraforming Project – Progress on planetary modification efforts.

3. Resource Allocation – Distribution of materials and workforce.

4. Historical Archives – Data on the past administrator and their decisions.

Scanning through mountains of data nothing had happened in the past two months, strangely they didn't have days of the week they continuously counted their days marking different months by their period of the season with the current moon am on named Zherak.

Reviewing the data, it's currently day one of the cycle of twilight with the current season of resilience (Druhalith) that was going to take some getting used to.

Scanning the last of the data there was nothing of importance with my mind currently knowing everything about their terraforming process I had hoped for more, but I paused hoping the historical archives might hold more information it had a few audio logs of the first and last administrator.

Entry 1: Council Deliberation – 781 A.F. (After Founding)

“Despite centuries of our people's harmonious existence, we remain tethered to Valur's surface, never venturing far beyond it. Our race has always valued our connection to nature, seeing no need to expand or interfere with the worlds beyond. However, I believe in change—our voice is small and often dismissed—we believe in a different future. We initiated the further study of our solar system, and our discoveries will shape a new Idea.”

Entry 2: Less Support – 852 A.F.

“The Council views our endeavours with disdain. They believe that tampering with nature, even on a dead world like Imreth, is a violation of our core values. Our people are content with what we have on Valur, and the Council holds on to the belief that further expansion is unnecessary. Yet, I believe that Valur’s resources are finite. Imreth and her moons hold rare minerals buried beneath their surface, which could secure our future survival. It’s not merely expansion—it’s a necessity.”

As I dive deeper into audio logs, something catches my attention. To the north, north-west, south-west, and south, my drones have spotted movement. Small, wheeled drones. At first glance, they seem unremarkable, but as I watch their movements more closely, I notice something peculiar. They’re moving in a grid-like pattern, sweeping the area with methodical precision.

I order the scout to move closer, getting a better view. These wheeled drones are compact, their bodies low to the ground, equipped with what looks like sensor arrays mounted on their tops. Their movements are slow but deliberate, covering every inch of ground in tight, systematic passes.

A surveillance grid.

The realization hits me as I trace their paths. They’re sweeping the terrain, searching for something—or perhaps scanning for residual energy signatures. It’s hard to say for sure, but the pattern is unmistakable. They're sweeping in perfect synchronization, their paths crossing over each other in a coordinated effort to cover every square meter of the surface.

Whoever deployed them must be looking for something. My scouts remain hidden, embedded in the shadows of craters or crevices, undetected for now. I study the grid movements, trying to determine the drones’ point of origin, but there’s no clear source yet. They seem to be working autonomously.

The feed from the north-western scout blinks as it shifts slightly to track a new group of these drones moving across the barren landscape. More of them are appearing, slowly converging towards the east—the location of the main battlefield.

I pull back, scanning the broader surface. The enemy is methodical, and calculating. They’re gathering information, possibly looking for weaknesses. I take a moment to consider my next move. The battlefield to the east is still quiet, but if these reconnaissance units keep moving, they might pick up traces of my scouts—or worse, stumble upon my tunnels.

The grid pattern bothers me. It’s too efficient. Too precise. Whatever these drones are searching for, they won’t stop until they find it.

I send quick thoughts through the connection, issuing new orders. Stay low. Remain hidden. Avoid direct engagement. If they stay on the move, weaving through the rugged terrain, they should be able to avoid detection. But I’ll need additional information before I can take any decisive action.

Sorting my thoughts, I send drones to recheck the status of my defences. The tunnel network is sealed tight, and reinforced to withstand any probing attempt. For now, the intruders are far enough away that I don’t need to worry, but their presence puts me on edge. If they sweep too close, they’ll find the weak points.

I narrow my focus back to the reconnaissance units. A thought flickers in my mind—a probe, an idea. I could let one of the scouts follow them, tracking their movements to determine their source. A risky move, but one that could yield valuable intelligence.

I send a mental nudge to one of the drones closest to the northern reconnaissance team. It shifts quietly, moving into a new position to observe the pattern more closely. Its eyes focus on the drones for any identifying markers, anything that could give away their purpose.

As it closes in, I catch a glimpse of an insignia on one of the wheeled units. The marking is faint, but there—a symbol etched into the metal casing. A broken circle, jagged at the edges. I file it away in my memory, noting its unfamiliarity.

Whoever deployed these units, they’re not from the main faction I’ve seen. A new player, perhaps? Or an unknown enemy?

The screen in my vision flickers again, the Network Down message still flashing at the corner of my interface. But now, the sense of isolation feels less like a disadvantage and more like a shield. For now, I’m hidden—undetected.

But I won’t be for long.

Time to prepare for conflict.