A malevolent consciousness, dormant for eons and galvanized in the fires of a burning ships stirs beneath Equestrian soil.
Fire. Dust. Death. The loss of my brothers and sisters, hosts and breeders, drones and Queen. Buried under soil and ash I have slept and endured. I have awoken to the taste of potential, the smell of life. Fresh blood patters on the soil above my head. I shall persevere. For the hive. For mother. Life prevails
I exist in a state of perpetual darkness. A shroud of inky black that permeates ones thoughts and being. I have slept for so long in the confines of a shattered ship, surrounded by frayed wires, torn metal and the fleshy silicon walls my family wove over the stamped surfaces of this place. I have no name. My kind has no need for such artificial and pointless titles. My consciousness swims to the surface and takes hold, shaking away the dead sleep. I unfurl from my sticky web bedding and drop several feet, clawed toes embedding themselves into metal with a harsh grinding squeal. I hiss, mouth within mouth dry and sore from years of confinement. Bladed tail hums through the air, joints crackle and pop and I assert myself on two feet and make my way through the twisted remains of the ship. I am weak, terribly weak. I am in need of nourishment. Tasting the air I pace through corridors and fleshy out croppings, skidding down ramps and over obstacles as I hunt for the remains of a host.
There.
Suspended by a shredded EVA suit, remains twisted and cracked is a body. I pluck it form its harness and tear into its form. Dry, brittle flesh is consumed and I feel life return to my body. With life comes pain. Organs shut down but preserved begin their tasks once more and I screech in pain as my form begins to grow back to my full size. I continue to shred and tear into the corpse as the pain subsides. Tossing it away and listening to the withered thump it makes as it collides with another, I raise my head and examine my surroundings.
Bodies lie throughout the ship, both my kind and theirs, in various states of decay and dismemberment. Some bear the marks of the seeders. Pained, grimacing faces, ruptured chests, hands whose digits writhed in paroxysms of agony as new life tore its way to the surface, and out of their beings.
Some who posed too great a threat to be subdued were ended by warriors who eventually overwhelmed them. Skulls popped by our gnashing jaws, bodies tore apart. Some consumed by the very fires they flung at us in an effort to keep us away. Others succumbed to their wounds before we could reach them and offer them the life giving seed of the Mother. Such a shame. Good hosts, strong hosts, quick and smart hosts died rather than be claimed by the hive. It saddens me that they will never know the Mothers love. We by no means escaped the carnage either. The hosts we wanted, the strong ones always fought back. That spirit is after all, what made them so desirable.
Drones and warriors, limbs blown apart and exoskeletons shattered and charred by fire and lead, lie in pools of corrosion and gore, their life blood spattered as they attempted to incapacitate and retrieve the hosts who had the gall to oppose us. Such strange things those hosts. Bound by community, yet individual and selfish in their own desires. When we drew near, the panic that had united them would over whelm their small, primitive minds and tear apart whatever semblance of community they'd manage to assemble.
Soft, pale faces were gripped in strong hands and wrenched from their suits, before being dragged, kicking and screaming towards the central hive. Sometimes it was necessary to bear teeth in warning, but the hosts struggled and screamed even harder. Thrashing against their confines, the seeders could not move to them and offer them the gift of the Mother. They were broken then. Limbs pulled and popped out of joint, perhaps torn or broken all together. Jaws were ripped open, eyes slashed or gouged, spines snapped or dented. The hosts would suffer yes, but they would not die. It takes life to make life after all. Seeds will not flourish on barren ground. The ground must be fertilized, cultivated and soaked with the blood of the weak for the hive to flourish. For the mother to grow strong and her influence to spread far. Their cries reached new heights, wailing cacophonies as the young ones emerged and they were reborn into the hive.
The hosts though refused to submit however. Refused to be taken and subjugated. In their selfishness they sought to destroy the hive. A number of them fought through our hive and sought to kill Mother! The rage that drove us, boiling through the corridors of the ship to her side would prove to be our demise. Such was our devotion that we let the hosts escape. They fled, pursued by a writhing multitude of my self and my family to the bridge. Whilst we tore into these creatures who would dare strike at our Queen, the others set the ship on a crash course to a random co-ordinates. Even as we killed and took the last of them, our fate was sealed.
Plunging the ship downwards into the atmospheric storms of a dead world, they burned all that we had created. As the great vessel of blood and steel crashed and burned, all were incinerated. Hosts, new borns, drones, warriors, Praetorians, the Queen herself perished with a scream in the flames! My connection to the hive-mind was burnt with my brothers, and I scream even now into the void of silence that is this place. Gone is the chattering of orders and locations, the community, the love we shared for the hosts and our Queen.
I do not know how I survived. Only that I have slept for a long time
Clutched in my fingers is a single egg. Ruby red and pulsating with life. With potential.
A new Queen shall rise from the ashes of this hive. A glorious, black retribution of flesh and screams that shall tear upwards and outwards through the flesh of this world and remake it in the glorious image of the Hive-Mother. For my awakening now is no mere coincidence. The atmospheric storms have subsided.
Through the long silicon streams and pipes that bring fresh air down into this stale place I smell life. Blood. Blood is what awoke me. The taste of potential. Of Life. Of prey. Of hosts for my new Queen. I shall journey out into this world. I shall serve my Queen. I shall bring back hosts for the glory of the hive. Life prevails.
Princess Luna awoke screaming. Face flushed and sweat dripping down her brow she flailed her hooves in a blind panic before crashing down onto the marble floor of her room. Her eyes rolled in her sockets and she drew in great heaving breaths even as her form shook wildly, still locked in the adrenaline rush that surged through her form. Panicked voices and cries sounded, muffled but definite, from the other side of her bedroom door. As she rose, unsteadily to her hooves and made her way over to the door it was wrenched open by a flash white shimmering magic. A squadron of Night guards stormed into the room, spears, hoof and wing blades at the ready. Offensive spells, fizzing as they crackled at the end of staffs and horns cast a glow into the darkness of the Princesses bedroom. Orders were yelled out as they surround Luna in a tight formation and marched her out of the room into the corridor as scanning spells were cast to determine the location or trace of any would be assailants.
"BY THE MAKERS. ENOUGH!" Cried Luna, the full force of the Royal Canterlot voice blasting the ear drums of any within earshot and the ruffling feathers and fur of the guards unlucky enough to be caught in the vicinity of this assault of the auditory senses. Once the shout had stopped reverberating off of the marble walls of the corridor and the ringing in the ears of the guards had mostly stopped, all eyes were on Luna.
Panting and twitchy, still reeling from whatever had happened in her room, Luna begins to speak. "My most capable Guardsponies, as always your performance has been exemplary. A quick response time, an effective perimeter established and my quarters cleared with record efficiency. It sets my mind at ease to know my soldiers are as ready and able as you. For that, you have my thanks."
The Nightguards shuffled in their armor, glancing at one another as they assembled into their ranks before filing out of the Princesses room and out into the corridors. Blades were sheathed, wings tucked in and offensive spells faded into nothing on the tips of the casters horns. Saluting as one, the Nightguards turned on their hooves and made their way back to their various positions around the palace, lines from the squadron leading off through various passages as they marched down the corridor and into the night.
Luna, now very much alone, turned and headed back into her room, the hinges of the door popping and creaking as an aura of her magic corrected the damage the guards had done when they had forced their way through. Making her way over to her bed, Luna lit several candles around her room and threw open the thick blue curtains she had closed before entering the dreamscape that night. Stepping out onto her balcony, she took a deep breath of cool night air and gazed at her moon in the sky.
Turning her head, she could just about make out the indistinct mass of Ponyville in the distance. Beyond that, the great foreboding mass that was the Everfree forest. Even now a great storm was building and boiling above those twisted canopies, dark grey and angry against the calm night sky she worked so hard to maintain.
Luna thought back to what had caused her to awake so suddenly, and in such a panic. She had born witness to thousands of nightmares, even more terrible memories from generations of terror stricken subjects. It was her job, her birthright to Shepard those who walk her night and guard them from the aspects of fear that made themselves present when they slip into unconsciousness whilst ultimately trying to help them better themselves, to over come their fear, doubts and apprehensions. But to experience the fear of her subjects from a different abstract point of view dulls the fear, more so when you've born witness to ever horror conceivable by a pony mind and triumphed over all of them.
This made her question all the more frightening. What was capable of making a goddess scream and panic just from an insight into its mind? Luna shuddered at the glimpses of what she could remember. Vicious, snapping mouths, teeth within teeth, barbed tails and pitch black, armored shells. A point of view, a process of thought so brutally efficient and mind numblingly awful that, had a lesser pony born witness to but a fraction of what she had seen, they would have been driven quite mad.
Luna did not know what she had seen within the Dreamscape but she had an awful feeling that something was stirring beneath the kingdom that her and her sister had nurtured for so long. Something dark and awful.
And it was stirring beneath the hellish place known as the Everfree forest.
As eager as I am to scout out into this new world and bring glory to the Hive, the influence of my Queen stops me. A small, yet immensely powerful and demanding voice rings out in my consciousness, by-basing auditory nerves and resonating within my mind with an absolute authority. I cannot, will not leave my Queen in this state. Bringing an egg out into a new environment was never an easy feat, and that was with the escort of a dozen or more of my brothers and sisters and never for more than a short amount of time. They were so delicate, so fragile, the fleshy membrane designed for longevity and a sedimentary existence, not for long treks or potential violence. If my Queen dies I shall lose everything once more, and this world will never know the love of the Queen.
With this thought strengthening my resolve, I once more retreat into the depths of the ship, my precious quarry cradled in my spindly arms. A tool for violence I may be, but gentle touches are a necessary part of the hive. It is with this in mind that I weave a stringy silicon mesh around my future Queen, securing her to the base of the ship, within the deepest part of the charred remains of the hive. From her I string thin lines of stretchy wax out to the surrounding walls and floor of the ship. If anything is to breach this sanctuary, I shall know.
With my Queen protected, I drop to all fours and thrash my tail from side to side as I sprint down corridors and through shattered bulk heads, up silicon covered walls and into bent displaced air ducts, my fingers clasping hatches and sensory tubes on my back reading air currents to direct me towards the surface. I slither from an air duct adjacent to a large rectangular room and rise to my feet.
In the center is the largest of the streamers, the ones I had constructed to help my kind move throughout the ship whilst we hunted the hosts who built this place. At its base is a mound of detritus, toxic dust and sand from ages long past, hurled down into the ship via those blasted atmospheric storms, scrap metal corroded into sharp edges and.....some kind of sticky brown residue. Not blood, far sweeter and with a strong taste of calcium. Perhaps the residue from a storm? If so, what kind of storm would produce sweet smelling brown liquid?
Irrelevant. If it does not concern the safety of my Queen or potential hosts then I am simply not interested. I can smell fresh air, I can taste moisture from up above. Despite how far down I am, I can hear the buzzing of activity from the surface. It is time for me to leave this infernal place ans journey out into this world.
Punching through the base of the streamer, I claw and spit until in is reduced to its fleshy state. Nothing can be wasted and this streamer shall serve as an entrance into the hive. Storing the black goop along my spines and within myself, I crawl up, through the streamer and out, into the twilight of a vast forest.
This place...such potential! Such an abundance of life! Vast trees covered in lank vines trail down to the ground, the canopy producing a speckled light that dances across my spines and plays across the forest floor. Rotting vegetation, fungi and branches litter the ground, creating a humid haze that dances through my senses. The occasional drip of rain, gathered on spiny leaves falls with a dripping sound, minute yet ever present in the hubbub of life that inhabits this forest. It's glorious.
With a flourish I raise myself to my full height, spines clicking, armor setting into place and bladed tail humming through the air. I tilt my head back and scream, mouth within mouth snapping out, open and hungry. Saliva flies from my maw as I roar my jubilation, my declaration of my loyalty to the Mother and the beginning of a hunt that shall consume this world. The cry resonates throughout the forest, sending rabbits scurrying for burrows, birds dropping in fright from trees. Timbre wolves cower in their dens, whimpering and shying away from the noise. Manticores manes wilt as they quiver in fear, and deep within the forest, a slumbering Ursa Minor is gripped with a feeling it has never known :Fear.
The forest is silent, no creature wanting to break the spell, not wanting to alert whatever made that noise.
I have wasted enough time as it is. I must hunt, retrieve hosts for the formation of the new Hive. Animals will do at first, their organic matter shall be spun, woven into the webbing that coats the nest. New eggs shall be born, and from them the Breeders will crawl forth. These shall be drones, they shall protect the Queen, build the hive and perhaps retrieve more hosts. For warriors and the Queen however the light of sentience is needed. The spark of an aware and inquiring mind. The Mother and her soldiers shall not be born from beasts, it would not be fitting.
Tasting the air, I locate a game trail, the scent of prey. Allot will be needed to produce the eggs and even more to birth the Drones, but I digress. This is the course of action I shall pursue. With a jerk I drop to all fours and tear off into the undergrowth, on the hunt for prey.
And it is so, under the light of Lunas moon that the first blood shed by this hive is spilt. Deer and rabbits tracked, cornered and incapacitated, dragged squealing underground and woven into the mesh of nightmares, the struggling of the victims causing the webs to begin to break them down into organic matter. By dawn, the prey is gone, eggs quivering and pulsing lie in the webbing, the facehuggers within twitching with desire to be born. Fresh hosts are brought in, screaming and flailing, and they are laid down, tethered and bound in front of the eggs. Breeders leap and crawl onto the faces and throats of the animals, coils tightening and ovipositors forcing themselves into the esophagus as they are dragged into unconsciousness.
I look upon my work, and I feel the Queens approval. The hosts writhe and twitch in their bedding, even as the Breeders die and wither off of their faces. The hosts shall nurture and feed the life that grows within them. Until they have ripped forth and born the drones that my Queen so desperately needs, I shall wait here, in the place of suffering and death, life and jubilation. The hosts shall soon be reborn into the glory of the Hive, and know true community.
The weak, stuttering coughs of one of the hosts alerts me. It's time. Moving away from the softly glowing crimson shell of the Queen's egg I pace towards the birthing chambers. The hosts, the quadrupeds which I had discovered, resting in a clearing during one of my hunts were strong, quick and alert. I only chose the finest, the largest and the best, for the selection of a host has implications for the children of the Hive. Strong hosts produce strong children, and only the strongest and the best are fir to serve in Mothers name.
The thing brayed and snorted , struggling weakly in the sticky confines of the web as its movements became more frantic. As the first cracks of bones and popping rang out in the chamber, the host began to scream. A harsh bellowing cry that quickly faded into gurgled coughing as the New born tore itself free of the hosts chest cavity with a screech. Moving to the hosts side, I disregarded its weakening struggles, the river of gore that now pulsed from the wound. My attention was solely on my new brother.
Plucking him from the host in a six fingered grasp and cradling him in my arms, I held him up and inspected him, hissing and clicking as I cleaned the gore from his small frame. He was strong, healthy, perfectly formed, arms stretching and mewling in response to my ministrations. Already I could make out the smooth domed crest of his calling, marking him as a Drone.
Rising from the corpse of the host, I set him down in the bed of webbing I had been constructing over the past hours. Weaving and spinning a cocoon, he sets himself in place by the foot of our Queen and begins the transition into adult hood. I gaze upon his twitching form with love, the feeling of approval that emanates from my Queen making this first victory all the sweeter. Even now I can hear more hosts begin to writhe in the webbing, the New life making it's way towards the outside of their beings. The hive grow ever stronger, my Queens influence grows. Life prevails.
Fluttershy was worried. Very worried. Over the past twenty four hours the herd of deer she had been attending to had diminished rapidly, both in numbers, strength and spirit. Gone was the trusting attitude she had cultivated with the herd, as they were skittish and tired looking. Gone were some of the most handsome bucks she'd ever seen, the guard of the herd. Most of the fawns had gone as well and there mothers still broke off and called for them occasionally. The sound and sight of it all broke Fluttershy's heart. She'd never seen anything like it. Living next to the Everfree forest had it's advantages, especially for a nature lover such as herself. The wild animals, rare species of fauna and animals made the risks of living near such a place bearable in her mind. Needless to say, she knew how nature worked in that chaotic place. Things were killed and eaten all the time, the Everfree was an environmental war zone, where everything was trying to be bigger and badder than everything else in order to eat everything else and not be eaten by everything else. She knew that. She accepted that. So when a fawn was taken by a pack of Timber-Wolves, or when a Buck was snatched by a hungry manticore she was sad of course, but she knew it was only natural. But a thriving herd over thirty members strong being reduced to a shivering mess of little more than ten in a single night? That and the fact that the elderly and sick were left untouched on heightened Fluttershy's suspicions. No there was nothing natural about this. If anything, it was distinctly unnatural. With this in mind, she finished feeding the deer, locked up her cottage and headed of into Ponyville. Perhaps a visit to the library, and a talk with her friends could shed some light over what was going on in the Everfree.
Truly a glorious sight. Before me thirteen drones bow to the Queen, bodies flat to the ground in adoration, hisses and cries sounding from their throats as they call out praise for their Mother. The Queen stirs in her egg, and immediately all sounds cease, as we listen to her wishes. A voice, soft, and gentle yet carrying an immense authority behind it, sounds out within our beings. It is obvious, that she is pleased with our success, the expansion of the hive into the surrounding earth goes well, and even now hosts continue to be turned into new eggs, all in the name of the Queen.
However, time grows short. My Queen sense that forces are in motion against us, that the cold clock work of the starts has the minute-hand pointed once again on a pivotal moment. We must act quickly, as these forces are not the only threat to us. There is another hive mind present on this planet. The outrage of my family at that moment had it possessed heat would have burnt this world, scouring across its surface in a miasma of fire and ash. Another hive? Another threat to our majesty, our mother? Unacceptable! Shouts of rage, threats hissed from throats echo through her Majesties chamber. It becomes necessary to bear teeth and snarl in order to reign them in. Such devotion is only to be expected from Drones, their minds are designed for little else.
The Queen continues to inform us that she has whispered to the other hive, seeded ideas and spread her thoughts through their collective consciousness, blessing them with insights from her Royal mind. She has spoken, conversed mind to mind with the ruler of this hive. Incredible how, even in her infant state my majesty is capable of projecting her mental influence over miles! It seems that an agreement has been reached between us, an....alliance of sorts.
The hive on this world is similar, yet different to ours. They were not designed to hunt, but to disguise, blend in among chosen prey before striking and overwhelming, or so our Queen understands from her "conversations" with their hive-mind focal point. They are weak, a single drone of ours could slay hundreds of their finest, killing even more as they fell and their life blood scorched the earth beneath them. But they number in the thousands, and their hive is extensive, running for miles underground. Conflict at this point would be pointless. Both sides would suffer heavy losses, and as much as I adore my majesty, she is not invincible, and in this state she could not lead us against an army. Plot and subterfuge yes, but wage war? I think not. I raise my concerns with mother, and she agrees.
Through her wordless voice, she shows me her plan, and a grin splits my features, thin saliva dripping onto the dura-steel floor. It seems that this hive also uses hosts, but in a different way, feeding off of the hormone induced chemical relations in organics known as emotions. This process it seems, drains the host, leaving them alive, but not unharmed. Far from it. The constant draining reduces them to naught but a hollow husk, not capable of producing anything fit for consumption. Typically by then they have reached the end of their usefulness and are disposed of. This is where my Majesty has shown her brilliance once again. Instead of being killed, the hosts shall be given to us,blessed with the life altering seed of the mother and reborn into the glory of our Hive!
Of course, I mother does not expect them to simply give us these hosts. As she has seen, they are weak, laughably so. My Mother in her wisdom has offered them warrior from our hive, as a sort of....escort I suppose. We shall provide the muscle, they shall provide the hosts, and both hives shall benefit, mine from an abundance of hosts and theirs from a refreshed supply of food. At last, mother shall be born into a fitting host, and the Hives shall spread and consume, all shall be reborn in the glorious name of the Hive! It seems that our new allies aren't far from our position, that they to are based within this vast forest. Excellent, this means that hosts can be captured and transported quickly and efficiently. It also means that if our Hive-mates are in trouble, we can muster support far quicker, providing we have the resources.
Mother speaks to me once again, it seems that hosts are already on their way, sent from the, what was it she called them? Changelings? hive, a testimony to founded relationship it seems. Bowing to mother, I chirp at four drones, and at once they scurry to my side, crouched and ready to move. Rising and snarling at the remaining drones, they bow and pace off into the hive, returning to whatever tasks that had been doing before mother called them to her side. My escort and myself take off, tearing through the dank, corroded halls and up the silicon streamer that is blood spattered and scratched by the incapacitated hosts we have brought here constantly . Bursting into the dappled sunlight with the drones at my side, I open my mind and let mother steer me in the direction of our allies. Linked to their hive, if only temporarily I make them aware of my presence. A meeting place is arranged, marked by pheromones and once again I tear off into the forest, Drones by my side. Life prevails.
