Chapter 15: The Will of the Hive

What is the Hive Mind?

It is the great entity dominating all Tyranids, existing in the void—omniscient, omnipotent, eternally ravenous. The “indescribable,” the devouring abyss.

Trading with this near-Lovecraftian outer god risked everything for Chen Xing.

(Devour, devour, devour all! For XXX…)

Void whispers echoed.

Chen Xing’s eyes lost focus—assimilation crept.

Perhaps no direct dialogue possible.

Regret—she could’ve searched synaptic net.

Some hive fleet lord might’ve studied warp drives.

“I… won’t lose! Won’t vanish!”

Chen Xing focused, clung to self.

Piously queried the insect true god, sent STC.

Soon—a massive zip-file smacked her head.

Hive Mind responded.

Cut link instantly.

Merged “package” into hull, decompressed.

Data: gene blueprint!

Genes coded like data.

Imported—new build option: Tyranid warp drive!

Ah… this… holy shit?

Chen Xing clutched tiny head, national curse!

Spun in pod.

Warp drive!

But cost: 80% bio-mass!

Months’ hoard—gone overnight.

Shipgirl life hard, tears.

“No choice, endure.”

Deep breath, ordered build.

Tyranid warp drive: organic, 1/5 human size.

Still, hull redesign.

Hatchery relocated forward, squeezed with digestion pools.

Flame acid cannons dismantled, repositioned.

Vacated flanks: new bio-hives.

Housed worker bees, plus spore cysts, razorwings, harpies—Tyranid torpedoes, fighters, bombers.

Carrier play fun for now.

Hiding in belt depths, three months upgrade.

Hull shed disguise, emerged changed.

Still 5km long, wider.

White chitin and rough hide tougher.

Bow flame acid + bio-plasma: tonnage damage.

Reinforced lash-tendrils: 3km yank for boarding.

Chen Xing starved.

Bio-mass bottomed.

No replenish—Devourer instinct might erase her, stomach-over-brain horror.

“Wah, hungrier… what now?”

System sensed crisis.

[Host, nearby Imperial asteroid mine—if okay eating people… feast.]

“Fine, planned target anyway!”

Psionic disguise: Golden Fleece skin.

Tendrils swung, toward “food reserve” mine.

Arrived—stunned!

Station shattered, debris and frozen corpses.

Already raided!

Worker bees scavenged bodies—snack first.

Collecting miners—lance struck psychic barrier.

Beam deflected, scorched chitin.

Neural synapses hardened shell, adaptive evolution.

Virtual pod: Chen Xing looked up at shadow.

Spike-studded cruiser, bridge with Chaos decagram.

Pupils quaked, then blood boiled.

From Elizabeth Loon’s memories: this Black Legion Slaughter-class destroyed Golden Fleece, looted all.

Meanwhile, aboard Slaughter-class Bloodied Blade.

Chaos Lord Balevi in high spirits.

Snuck into Herkes with light cruiser Bloodied Blade.

Caught rogue trader Lunar-class.

Boarded, sacked, killed trader, wrecked ship.

Found Imperial mine—rare metals.

Too good for Corpse-worshippers.

“Received” metals, slaughtered miners and guards.

Ready for more burn-loot—Lunar-class arrived at ruins.

Balevi ordered sorcerer Tzeentch cloak, stealth approach.

“Lord,” slave reported, “transponder: Golden Fleece.”

“What’s odd?” Balevi kicked slave. “Wait—Golden Fleece? The one I sank?”

Sorcerer shrugged, power-armored palms up.

“Hehehe, ahahaha, praise Chaos gods!” Balevi raised chain-axe. “Rogue trader ship—cargo-rich, plunder-worthy!”

“Full battle config, prepare boarding!”

Sorcerer thought unwise—but warband leader addicted.