The Swarm

The girl did not move. Her legs, heavy as if filled with lead, pinned her to the surface like a reminder of safety regulations. “How rude,” Silas rasped. The entity growing from his spine, occupying his entire back, twitched nervously, as if agreeing with its host’s words. “Though on your knees it’s ni—ce…” The last syllable was swallowed by the wet slap of slime dripping from his head. “One must remember one’s status.” The necro merely tilted his head, studying her without coming closer, sensing Yun’s searing gaze. The man shook his companion lightly by the shoulder. “That bad?” He pulled out mineral water. “You can’t give in to emotions. Control yourself, damn it.” “Right in front of me…” a convulsive breath. “They ate him.” “You stay,” Yun cut in with a commanding tone, addressing Merid and throwing Silas a hard look. “I have been assigned to ensure the gos—stay,” the necro hissed the final syllable, and she could have sworn she saw a predatory glint buried beneath the human heart. Nausea rose in her throat. Yun’s hand rested gently on her back, helping her take a horizontal position. Movement was a luxury under accelerated oxidation. Necros did not suffer from this weakness, for reasons still unknown. But knowing the persistence of Kleim… Stop. Kleim? How quickly the mind tries to return to the ordinary after losing those you love. Merid noticed the cage with the raccoon was gone when the technician had already stepped over the threshold. Silas vanished after him. His home was neutral territory, but before the door slammed shut, she managed to hear the curious clicking of mandibles outside the shelter. Darkness. Falling into it, Merid saw the angry face of her late father, furious that she had failed to protect a skilled hunter under sector conditions. Then Shane’s muzzle. Unlike her father, he was not angry about his death, understanding her, as always, better than people ever did. The squeal in her head intensified, like metal scraping against metal. Like an anchor, it dragged her back from nothingness. Laughter. Merid sprang upright so fast her head spun. Hallucinations? Impossible. They hadn’t been out for that long. A few more gulps, like an attempt to claw her way out of the haze. The laughter came again. With horror, Merid realized what was unsettling about the sound. It belonged to a child. Pushing herself up from the floor, her weak body swayed but obeyed. Trembling fingers found the handle of the door in the room beyond the wall. The door did not yield. Suddenly, the noise stopped. No laughter. No rapid breathing afterward. On the other side, silence hummed treacherously. It suggested either the consequences of her heartbeat on the surface, or something had gone still in that quiet, carnivorously waiting for her next move. “Delirium,” Merid’s hand froze a couple of seconds before knocking. Muffled speech at the entrance made her turn just before Yun and Silas returned. “Better?” The technician’s gaze scanned her, searching for damage. “Yes,” she assured him, still trying to shake off the spell. Only insects and necros here, she repeated to herself. Anything else wouldn’t survive. Insects. Necros. And them. “The offering has been accepted,” Silas said indifferently, not entering the house. “Follow me.” The attached entity smacked wetly against the back of his head in displeasure. “You sure you’re going?” Yun ignored him, gently checking her face for fever with the back of his hand. She shoved his hand away sharply. “I’m not made of sugar. I’m fine.” Her voice sounded steady; only slight spasms in her gait betrayed her. “Time,” the necro pressed, uninterested in her condition. “Shut up” never left Merid’s tongue, turning instead into a brief nod as they stepped into the King’s domain. The great ridges of the past loomed along the horizon. Former buildings lay in ruins. Webbing and slick hives wrapped around them, as if healing deformity with deformity. Merid adjusted her mask. She had been here before. Her work as a courier had begun three years ago. Over time, leaving the tunnels became a reward for the eyes. She often imagined the streets filled with human speech, different dialects… like in Leiv’s old books and the stories passed down from the first gatherings on logs. Yun studied the shells of the buildings. It was his first time here. Probably thinking how nicely he’d stretch out in the local ventilation, Merid smirked to herself. The technician’s sharp glance made it clear she wasn’t far off. Chirring of different frequencies filled the space, like a massive insect bazaar. Chitin-armored bodies pushed past, lazily brushing her crown with antennae. Necros murmured quietly among themselves. The forced truce pressed down. Everyone understood that a single act of the King’s will, and nothing would remain of them for a farewell rite. Insects cannot tolerate the smell of smoldering dead organic matter. Corpses smoke the air for weeks, settling into the blood and lungs of relatives and friends. Merid shook her head, trying to drive the thoughts away, earning a displeased look from Yun, who remembered her episode. She nodded, assuring him of her “working” state. To the sound of a timer, they approached the main lair. Merid knew it was comfortable here. Insect offspring require conditions close to human ones: coolness, moisture, normal oxygen levels. Unlike adult individuals, for whom oxidation apparently did not act quickly. Temperature, however, was another matter. “Please,” Silas interrupted her thoughts, gesturing them inside. The passage was entwined with vegetation and descended downward. The insects had not bothered with any special place for receiving humans. The group passed hundreds of clutches, some of them pulsing like abnormal heartbeats along the corridors. Green-black cocoons were fused together, exposing the planet’s swelling tumor. It was also an excellent opportunity to demonstrate their hierarchy in this world to competitors on the food chain. Footsteps died away before other necros in the chamber. Of course, the King would not appear before ordinary food carriers, delegating this to those close to him. An unknown figure extended a container of yellow extract, and Merid swore to herself not to ask which organ it had been taken from. “Neutralizer,” the parasite bearer said, placing it into Merid’s hands. Her fingers closed around it uncertainly; her body refused to believe everything had been given up for this. “Not much is needed,” the necro added. “A couple of drops into the cauldron.” Of course, Merid thought angrily. They adapted here too. Yun intercepted the neutralizer from her hands. “And we’re just supposed to trust you?” His voice cut through the King’s attendants as he turned the vial in his palm. “The fact that you are allowed to leave alive is already a guarantee,” Silas snarled, unimpressed. “But next time — livestock bigger and more nutritious,” he finished demandingly. “We gave you the fattest one,” Merid protested. “Try harder,” Silas concluded. “Now…” His figure circled them like a vulture. “The allotted rest. But do not forget yourselves. Hunger does not wait.” A feast of the King and Queen for new offspring, while the old devour each other, Merid thought. Is the King really that different from our generals? Aloud, she said something else. “We don’t plan to stay.” “Excellent,” Silas replied, gesturing toward a room without clutches. Left alone, both exhaled loudly at the same time. The tension of the mission caught up with them. “If Shane was here,” Mary said, suppressing emotion, “what about the sector?” “One thing’s clear,” the technician replied, studying her expression. “The road to D16 is closed to us now. We need information.” Mary’s stomach clenched again, this time not because of the mash with the “lights.” “And Xander gets the neutralizer? That kind of power? Just like that?” she snapped. “All you can do is play along as if you wanted this from the beginning, so they let you live,” Yun said sternly. The truth in his voice made it hurt more. Merid bit her lower lip, as if pain could empty her head. “I’m not going back that way,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “If I see even a scrap of fur—” “If there’s anywhere left to return to,” Yun reminded her, tapping his temple. “Right,” Merid agreed as the uneasy silence swallowed them. “Did you manage to see anything?” “A little.” The commutators were already signaling a shift in the hive’s mood. Insects follow orders while sufficiently fed. It felt as if the entire small city had watched them on their way here. How long would the King’s request restrain them? And how quickly would the King find new fools willing to drag a raccoon to his table in exchange for “useful” jars? It’s even good they’ve eaten almost everyone. The conditions are right… Merid thought as the hum beyond the walls grew louder. Rest never lasts long in their world. Especially in a predator’s lair.