Catalyst

Chapter 14: Study and Slaughter

"Intentions unclear. Reformation of aesthetics, difficult, unnecessary. Chances of success, minimal, outcome requires many outside forces. Recommend alternate approach."

"Abathur, we have to! Malfoy won't just admit to being the Heir, so we have to trick him into it. And that the only way to do that is Polyjuice," said Harry, the biggest pusher of the plan. "It's not like he'll just give himself up."

"Have not attempted that. Suggest direct confrontation. If admittance occurs, can act. If not, nothing lost. Optimal strategy," Humans placed such weight on evidence, on knowing for certain. It was so much easier to simply eliminate the probable issue, then just check if it changed the results, but if the terrans demanded this, so be it. They could deal with the consequences.

"He's not just going to tell us in front of the whole Great Hall," Hermione protested.

"Has not been tested," Abathur responded, idly watching a spider run across the wall. He hadn't seen as many of those recently, which was a shame. They were one of his favorite creatures on the planet, an efficient predator with excellent essence. And they had a nice crunch.

"Hey wait, couldn't you go in and ask Malfoy? You're both in Slytherin," Ron recalled.

"Avoidance preferred. Organism Malfoy irritating. Interaction impossible," Abathur dismissed. The terran really was annoying, attempting to play verbal power games in literally any conversation. It was as if terran society really was ran without any psionic interaction, which would explain the instability. Not to mention that he hadn't really been in the dorms much, preferring to wander the corridors, sleep no longer being strictly necessary. He doubted even the other Slytherins associated him with their house at this point.

"Look, if you don't have a better idea Abathur, we still have to do this. We need to stop Mal- I mean the Heir!" Harry exclaimed.

"If only option, acceptable risk," Abathur capitulated. Even if it didn't work, he could always consume what was left.

(Transition)

Terran psionics, on a fundamental level, made absolutely no sense, somehow insanely limited and insanely powerful at the same time. Capable of incredibly precise work on a massive scale, yet struggling to perform the simplest tasks, such as communication. It was a contradiction especially notable in Transfiguration, where Abathur currently found himself attempting to turn a rabbit into a pair of slippers. Why the terrans thought this was a skill he ever needed to know, he was unsure. While there were certainly reasons to not want rabbits nearby, such as their excessive waste production, it was much more efficient to consume them. The energy required to arrange the molecules and particles just so on this scale was immense.

Yet it happened. All around the classroom, with but a flick of a flimsy stick and some random vibrations, rabbits became slippers, or at least something slipper shaped, as well as a few red smears in some unfortunate cases. What's more, it was being done by terran adolescents, something that every fiber of their essence showed to be impossible; they simply didn't have the brainpower for it. Abathur could have done it as a full zerg, reshaping bits of strands from light years away, then letting the other mechanisms carry out the change, or creating essence, and feeding it energy to make a symbiote. The Queen of Blades both old and new could do it as well, on a lesser scale since Abathur had designed her for combat and control. But these terrans did it so easily.

What's more, Abathur could do it too, with a wand in his hand. Waving it around and saying the right words while providing minimal energy to the wand produced the same effects. That had to be the key. But how did a mere contraption of wood and silk do it? Questions to the staff about how the wand worked had resulted in confusion, hand-waving, and one trip to the library to check out a book on human puberty, the last of which was actually useful. It was literally a text describing exactly what he needed to alter to keep his cover. But it lead him no closer to the answers he sought. It didn't matter. Abathur had years to work, and sooner or later, he would have their secrets. One way or another.

(Transition)

A successful colony inevitably attracts enemies, and with the constant expansion and infestation of new colonies, successful was definitely a description applicable to the Hive, now hundreds of times its former size. So it was not a surprise when a colony on one of the fringes of the Hive's borders sent out a massive invading force, attempting to push into the newly conquered areas. This far from the Queens and the major concentrations of the Hive's forces, a one on one combat situation was unfeasible. Should the invading force be able to get into the colony there, they could push in far too deep to be permissible. Fortunately, they never got so much as ten feet in.

Between the invaders territory and the Hives lay a thin clearing, with little more than dirt and the occasional bush to separate the areas. It was through her the invaders marched, a vast swarm of ants. There appeared to be nothing to oppose them. That is, until the leading ant fell into a small cone shaped hole, little more than 5 inches deep or wide, a simple obstacle to move through. The ant turned to climb the walls, continuing on its march. To its dismay the soil was fine and loosely packed. The ant looked for another way out.

Then the larva struck. Burrowed beneath the soil at the center of the pit, a Hive larva, little more than venom laced jaws and muscles with a digestive system, bit at the ant's central section, crippling its movement. Across the clearing, similar scenes were happening, with ants falling into pits, only to be bitten and filled with venom, then consumed by the larva. Any attempt to retaliate was met by the larva burying itself, only to emerge and attack from a different angle. A few, more intelligent ants tried to escape, but the larva twisted and flailed, throwing dirt at the escapees, causing the soil under their feet to slide back, pulling them into the grubs waiting jaws. The few who managed to navigate through the field of death were met by roaming squads of Hive soldiers, who made quick work of the isolated invaders.

Some ants still managed to get out of the pit, by a dangling root, a well placed corpse, or by sheer luck. Many of those just fell into another hole to be quickly consumed, but others managed to regroup on their side of the meadow to head back to the colony, and to safety. Or so they thought. Within many of them, those who had suffered as little as a scratch, a virus by now very familiar with its hosts replicated and spread, ready to assimilate yet another colony to the Hive.

Spore/Spine Crawlers: The primary defensive structures of the Zerg, spore and spine crawlers are powerful and adaptable structures. The crawlers each defend hive clusters from specific threats, spore crawlers attacking air units by flinging corrosive spores, while spine crawlers attack ground forces with a single massive impaler tentacle. Both are morphed from drones, making them not as efficient to mass produce as their counterparts in the protoss and terran forces, but the crawlers make up for this by being much more powerful than photon cannons or missile turrets, as well as being able to uproot and move themselves to new positions at will. This ability has been used to allow the zerg to produce them elsewhere, and stack them up to eliminate otherwise superior forces. Spore crawlers also provide detection, enabling them to take out the likes of banshees or observers as well as other aircraft, as well as providing static detection. Both crawlers are an essential part of any hive cluster.

If you like this story I suggest going to the original source here
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12515480/1/Catalyst

And if you want more like this I suggest going to the original author of this story Strandshaper's home page here
https://www.fanfiction.net/u/9294091/