Prologue

Chris ran down the street, the barrel of his M-4 rifle moving back and forth. Just seconds ago, his first patrol down the streets of this little Iraqi town had turned deadly. The lead Humvee in his convoy had been destroyed by an RPG, and now Chris and his squad were racing towards the building that the rocket came barreling towards them from.

Chris ran up to the door of the house and planted the barrel of his rifle above the lock. He moved his finger to the trigger for his under-barrel shotgun, and pulled the trigger. The gun jumped in his hands as it fired, destroying the lock. Chris kicked the door in. He was the first man in. He was greeted by a spray of automatic fire from an insurgent's AK-47. Chris flew backwards into the wall. His body armor had failed to stop the armor-piercing rounds from slicing up his organs.

As he slowly bled out, he saw his squad running up the stairs to avenge their friend. The edges of his vision blackened, before the blackness claimed his entire vision.

Chris groaned as he woke up. His stomach hurt, his thoughts a blur. He sat up, in a daze. Two people ran over to where he was laying. "Hector! Thank goodness you're ok!" His mother ran over to him, hugging him. Hector? The memories came flooding back. The raiders, the village, his dad and little brother. He clutched the wound where the arrows had passed through his gut. He looked over to his sister. He winced, remembering how she had cried when the raider's mace connected with her brother's arm, then fell onto his head.

What sister? Chris is an only child, born to a middle class family in Wichita, Kansas. He had gone to a good school, got good grades, and had good parents and good friends. But Hector is... was the oldest of three. Now only he, his mother Rebecca, and his five-year old sister Sara were left out of their entire village. He felt two different sets of memories in his head; one set of memories as an only child on Earth, of a twenty year old Christopher Stinton, another as Hector Brenst, a villager from the settlement of... the former settlement of Drex, on Dreyparx. He was a twenty year old villager, and an ungifted one at that. Then there was... Something else.

It was a whisper in the back of his mind. It was small, but definitely there.

You think yourself ungifted? Hector spun, trying to face the voice from nowhere.

Where was it coming from?

I come from nowhere.

Hector's eyes widened.

Who are you, and what do you want? Hector thought, trying to mask his fear.

I am no one. What do you want?

To protect my family.

At what price?

I'd do anything!

Anything?

If it keeps them alive, yes.

Hector felt power surge through his body, felt an intense heat enter him. He felt the arrow wounds in his stomach close up, and, like lines from the page of a book, something entered his mind.

Evolutionary Stage: 0

Overmind Bio Energy: 100/100

Bio Energy Reserve:0

Requirement to Evolve: Create the Swarm

The Swarm... the first image that entered Hector's mind was a memory from Chris, of the Zerg, a race from Chris's favorite computer game: Starcraft. But that had been fantasy, a work of fiction. It couldn't be real... could it?

Hector felt a hand on his shoulder. It was his mom's. "Are you OK? Your eyes... glazed over for a moment, like you had gone into a trance."

Hector shook his head. "I'm fine. A bit hungry, but fine." Rebecca stood, and left the cave, grabbing a roughly made spear as she left.

"Where are you going, mommy?" Sara called after her.

"To get food!" came her reply.

Hector felt alone, felt the need to have others. He stood, shaky, and moved towards the front of the cave. At the mouth of the cave, he felt a tug on the sleeve of his shirt. He looked down at Sara, who had pulled on him with her left arm. "Mommy said that we shouldn't leave the cave without her."

A sigh escaped Hector's mouth. "It'll all be OK, Sara. It'll all be OK." He wasn't paying much attention to her. He needed to evolve. He needed to birth the swarm.