Chapter 12: Infestation

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The Queen was the first to awake. It had started as minor discomfort, an ache in the muscles, minor twinges in the thorax, nothing to be alarmed about, and nothing that could not be endured. But it grew, spreading throughout. Soon the ache was everywhere, stretching from her legs to her antennae, every part of her body screaming in pain. The Queen's children rushed in, desperate to defend from this foe, but found nothing. Still, whatever this malady was, it continued to grow. To her mandibles and eyes, until it eventually reached her thoughts. It twisted them, breaking them and pulling them apart. It was in this space between her thoughts that the Mind arrived.

(Transition)

Abathur's train ride could be summed up very easily as dull. Most of his time on the terran vehicle was spent reading his textbooks while making small talk with Hermione. It was a concept Abathur had fundamental difficulty with. Certainly the exchange of information was valuable, but most of the conversation was superfluous, unnecessary; it was incredibly unimportant what book was read where, or the color of an unnamed relatives fish. Unfortunately, it appeared to be a necessary part of human interaction.

Oddly, neither Harry nor Ron arrived, which was unexpected, but viable. Hermione was the most useful of the three in most commonly encountered situations, being most familiar with psionics. The reduced amount of camouflage was risky but adequate. Of course, perhaps they had merely taken an alternate route. No conclusions could be made.

Eventually, the ride came to a close. Abathur stepped off the train, walking over to the carriages pulled by the interesting looking equine organisms. Something in its essence was quite odd, and Abathur considered consulting his books for a description. He was just setting aside his trunk when he felt it. The virus had borne fruit.

(Transition)

The Mind reached to and through the Queen, shaping her, molding her. It took away the pains, replaced them with strength, it took the aches and made them more. It shaped and grew her thoughts, teaching her of concepts that were previously inconceivable. It taught her of the stars, of the Swarm in all its diverse forms, of the many that were one. It told her of essence, that was contained within her, that was within all. It taught her of tactics, of war, and while she understood only part, the Mind deemed it enough. It told her of it's plans for her and her colony, and of those beyond.

All the while, it shaped her, changed her. Into what, the Queen did not know.

(Transition)

Abathur spent the rest of the evening with only half a mind focused on his surroundings. He had exited the carriage and walked up the steps in little less than a mobile stupor. He listened to the song and the sorting following it only in the technical sense, sparing no attention to the terran ceremonies. All his focus was spent on the ant queen, molding it as best he could from this distance, allowing the creature to improve itself later. Already, he could feel its presence in a hive mind, see through its eyes from hundreds of miles away, even after being alone in thought for over a decade. He continued to spin strands as he ate the meal, as light fled from the sky. Abathur didn't bother sleeping. There was work to be done.

(Transition)

The Mind stayed with her for hours, shaping her body and essence. The Queen's mind expanded, no longer limited to its cage of flesh. Her limbs grew strong, her eyes saw the world anew, everything became more. At last, the transformation was complete, the Queen free to move. But the Mind had tasks for her, more plans.

It had her gather her children, to order them to gather massive amounts of food and flesh. They gathered all that was living, and some things that had been. Bark, twigs, beetles, nothing was to be passed over. The supply lines covered the log containing the colony with a sea of black carapace. The harvest was placed in piles throughout the colonies tunnels. When the Mind had determined it to be enough, it ordered the Queen to gather her children once more. Every last one of them.

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