The Swarm

Merid realized she had fallen asleep at the worst possible moment. Her eyelashes fluttered under a harsh light. An oil lamp hung inches from her face, held in a man’s hands. A painful spasm tightened her throat in fear. A clap. “No need to aim for the head,” the intruder’s hoarse voice addressed Yun as an offended glance dropped to the discarded shoe. “What the hell?” The irritation in the technician’s voice finished off the last traces of Merid’s sleep and forced her to sit up. She ran a hand through her hair and looked at the cause of the noise. A skinny guy, about her height. She could probably land a solid hit if it came to that, maybe even put him on his back in six minutes. If only… “Mary, drag your sleepy ass over here,” Yun said, gathering the remnants of their provisions from the shelves and slipping them into a large inner pocket. “Yeah… that’s what I mean,” the “violator” began to justify himself. “You’re heading out soon. Everyone’s having breakfast.” “Yeah, yeah. Got it,” Merid’s companion cut him off, watching her adjust her suit. Stepping out of the railcar, Merid noticed small groups of people. Many were sitting on the floor, eating with their hands from shallow metal bowls. “Hey,” June’s high voice cut through the space. Yun nudged Merid’s shoulder lightly, a playful invitation to join. “Look what I got,” the brunette announced generously, revealing sweet chitin flatbreads and baked tubers. “A magician,” Merid blurted out, already reaching for the treat. A sharp slap from June stopped her hand. “Not here,” the herbalist said firmly, tilting her head to signal they move on. “So-ci-e-ty,” she finished in a lecturing tone and headed toward the “lights.” Snorting, Yun picked up the bowl of tubers and followed her. Mary realized she would have to do something terrible: meet everyone. She wasn’t shy, but she hated unnecessary noise. Scuffing dust across the station floor and hiding behind Yun’s back, she followed them toward the loud group of young people. “Dean, you’re impossible,” a woman’s voice came from the direction of the lights, growing closer with their unhurried steps. “I’m telling you, there are more necros now,” replied the guy Merid recognized as the one who had woken her. “Necros… those half-creatures… half-humans?” a shrill female voice betrayed disgust. “A communication method,” Dean concluded with a smart look. As they came closer, Mary noticed the scar covering half his face. “Oh, June! Save me,” his companion joked, collapsing into the brunette’s arms while glancing over Merid and Yun. “He’s talking about our grim future again, isn’t he?” June lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Someone’s just behind on the news,” Dean shot back. “The old commutators are useless, feral devices.” “And letting a parasite latch onto your brain so you can know what the bugs are ‘saying’ isn’t feral?” an angry voice came from the embrace. “It’s true,” June replied softly, releasing her. “Mary communicated with one.” “This is Lori,” she added, introducing her. A polite nod followed. “Merid.” “What do you mean you communicated with a necro?” Lori asked, unable to hide her curiosity as she quickly shook Merid’s hand. The silence that followed told her everyone already knew Yun. Knowing the truth about Xander, that didn’t surprise her. Dean looked away, embarrassed. “I’m kind of a… courier,” Merid hesitated. Her red hair conveniently hid the awkwardness in her gaze. “I haul food to the bugs in exchange for supplies.” “And?” Lori tilted her head, confused, as Dean crept closer with interest. “And she talks to them through a necro, you idiot!” Dean snapped. “His name is Silas,” Merid said flatly, cutting through the brewing storm. “Silas,” Lori muttered, focusing on her. “And what does THAT look like?” “Like a failed sandwich,” Yun replied, earning a faint smile before Merid jabbed him in the side with her elbow. “Pretty much,” Merid agreed with a shrug. “A human with a massive maw on their head, like they fused together. The insect part intercepts the hive’s vibrations and sends them to the brain, while the human side speaks to us. The insect attaches to the spinal cord, to—” She stopped when she saw Lori cover her mouth. “I prefer the old methods,” Lori said faintly. “Brutal and useless,” Dean countered. “Implanting insect glands into people just to know the colony’s condition.” Merid instinctively pressed her palm to her chest. The commutator. Old technology that allowed one to sense the hive’s mood before necros became competitors. “Sorry if I offended you,” Dean added, noticing the gesture. “It’s just… words are clearer than guessing whether an insect is smiling.” “But it’s immoral!” Lori cried. “Voluntary immorality,” he corrected. “People agree to it.” “Yeah. Under threat of punishment,” she exhaled. “Break the commune’s law: into the hive’s maw or redeem yourself,” he reminded her confidently. “And if guilt is just a pretext?” Merid cut in, shifting the conversation from idle chatter into something darker. “Kids, eat your flatbreads,” June intervened with a smile, though she was only a couple of years older. The sweetness didn’t drown the bitterness of thought, but it eased the tension. “Time,” Yun exhaled. Mary nodded, hastily finishing the rare prize. Preparing for the surface takes time, and the safe hours were running out. The sky let violet rays bleed into its green dawn. The fermented scent of blooming plants pressed through even the mask. Mary’s stomach tightened, reminding her of the mash she’d drunk. The raccoon in the cage had quieted down. Yesterday outside the sector had taken its toll. The rustle of Yun’s suit diluted the silence as they moved carefully. The air thickened. The heat became tangible. Merid’s gaze slid over thorned flowers. A distant memory surfaced. As a child, she’d pricked herself on them and burned with fever for hours while her mother tried to snatch a bowl of hot broth from the food block. She hadn’t noticed Yun had stopped a couple of seconds earlier. His finger pressed to his lips. Frozen, Merid realized someone was nearby. They stepped into the light shadow of the vegetation and saw a scara. A predatory insect with powerful mandibles, separated from the hive. That meant only one thing: hunger. In this state, the creatures do not respond to the King’s commands, following a single impulse — to consume. Yun crossed his fingers. Like a signal in a ventilation shaft, Merid stepped to the right. Fluffy paws rubbed against each other, as if examining a table, their owner still unaware of the dinner options. Merid cursed silently and kept moving. The commutator implanted in her chest made it clear — the creature was deranged from lack of food. Yun felt the same. His clenched fist tightened further, suppressing the urge to grab Merid’s hand and keep her from making a mistake. Predatory excitation. The commutator transmitted the insect’s state precisely. It was hunting. It had noticed food. The tremor in her fingers came before her thoughts found the cause. From the realization, or from the weight of the cage with the raccoon. Her hazel-green eyes saw what had drawn the predator’s attention. Shane. The last anchor to a life where she wasn’t a smuggler, but a daughter. Not just a dog — a reference point. How did he get here? The thought raced through her mind as Yun shook his head. Don’t do anything stupid. One of the dog’s ears stood upright, a reminder of friendly greetings after returns. How did he get here? she repeated silently. He wouldn’t have survived alone if he’d run out with them. That meant he had followed their trail recently. Why? Had the house collapsed? Were they too late? Yun gave her shoulder a slight shake, pointing toward the shaded corridor. Merid exhaled sharply. Her lips trembled. Her heart pounded far beyond recommended limits. Target. Motive. She had defined everything for herself when she picked up the raccoon, but it all felt unreal when the puzzle of her past sat on the creature’s menu. She froze, afraid to draw Shane’s attention, afraid to see the joy of recognition. Yun deliberately took the first step, as if forcing Merid’s moral battle to its end. She had to follow. An unbreakable rule of survival. Precious seconds of distraction while the hive creature focused on the object. The object. Her Shane. Her hesitant step hung in the air when a rustling sound moved toward the dog. Yun’s hand closed tightly around hers and he moved forward quickly. Merid closed her eyes, letting herself follow, as if that stripped her of responsibility. A brief yelp. And a crunch. The crunch echoed in her ears as they walked for dozens of minutes through branches toward the city consumed by hives and plants. The crunch echoed off the walls as they entered Silas’s domain. When the door closed, Merid collapsed to her knees, bruising them, while Yun still gripped her fingers. A creak broke the mourning silence, drowning out the echo of the crunch in her head. Silas entered.