The land was peaceful, with the sun setting over the mountains to the east. With the calling of the small flying lizards that flitted in-between the rock pillars slowly decreasing as they moved back to their hollows, and the continual growl of gases moving underground, it seemed it would be just another night. But it knew it wouldn't. The cluster of green armored food were making their way to the factories, and right past one of the secondary tunnel exits that Colony M-2/3 had bored out. The zergling, who had recently named himself Naarda as he grew in intelligence and self-will, looked at his pack. Over thirty zerglings were gathered in the small hollow between towers, ready to do whatever necessary. Naarda cocked his head as the changeling following the group overheard the distinctive sound of a tent being put up. Knowing that a tent meant shelter and sleep to the outsiders, he started down the faint trail that had been formed by the hunting parties following game, with the rest of the pack stealthily following.
Aitcheson was disappointed at taking first watch. After a hard slog over some of the most Emperor forsaken terrain around, he would have liked to rest for a while, if not sleep, before having to be on watch. His career mostly consisted of his training and that hunting expedition the Mechanicum had requested they do. His brother had been assigned to guard the food stocks in the Over Lands. Every week, he sent a letter telling Aitcheson how he was doing and the latest activity and gossip. Even nobles apparently had the entire set of human characteristics. Suddenly, it occurred to him that the lizards had gone quiet; and that was usually because they were hiding. Aitcheson stood, and limbered his rifle. The other two sentries saw this and did the same. A faint rustling sound echoed from one of the canyons, followed by silence.
Naarda was impressed by the soldier's senses. Even after traveling over this rough terrain, the sentry still retained the wherewithal to notice the lizards going silent. The rifle he held was a puzzle as the Swarm had never seen anything like it, but Naarda was sure it would be superfluous. With a subconscious command, the ring tightened.
At the prodding of one of the sentries, sergeant McNealy rolled out of his bag and unsheathed his chainsword. "What is it?" he whispered to the man. "I don't know, the lizards just quieted down all of a sudden. Something's probably spooked them." Jonas turned and called back into the tent in a low voice "O'Nill, come on out. We might have hungry company." Within seconds, the trooper had exited the small structure. "What is it, more wolves?" Then the silence was pierced by a ringing screech.
The first creature O'Nill saw was halfway across the open ground before his rifle was in position. When it was, O'Nill wasted no time in pouring concentrated light into his target. The first shot impacted at the base of the right claw, and blasted it clean off. Unfortunately, it kept coming, with an insane amount of speed. His thumb moved of its own volition, clicking the selector lever to full auto while O'Nill muttered a short litany of protection. His second round of shooting took the creature full in the head, burning large craters into its armor. As it crashed to the ground, and kept rolling, O'Nill had switched targets, and hamstrung the things back left leg with a burst of lasfire. A scream of pain, followed by a gurgle, caused O'Nill to whirl around and put another barrage of fire into the creature standing above the body of one of the newer soldiers. Then a fresh wave of weapon fire rang through the camp, and silence. O'Nill wildly looked around, checking for more threats, his body unable to accept that the danger was past. But it was, as every living xenos had moved back from the camp. Sergeant McNealy kicked the body off his sword, while grimacing as the thing's claws dug further into the meat of his left arm and leg. O'Nill did a double check as the three figures emerged from the darkness, followed by several gun servitors. The lead figure moved over to McNealy, and let out a squeal of binary. O'Nill looked around as the remains of the patrol, three others not counting him or the sergeant, emerged from their positions, and walked to the techpriest. Motioning, two servitors grabbed the now unconscious man, and started carrying him away. Slowly, the Guardsmen moved to follow.
Naarda was not pleased. The outsiders had been moments away from being cleaned up, when the heavy gun fire had thundered from the canyon, tearing apart four pack mates in seconds. Not knowing what it was or how many, the pack had turned and ran. Seeing the cyborgs had caused unpleasant memories to surface, about the battles on Aiur, and a small flutter of shame. He should have known of the interlopers coming to the aid of the targets, and moved appropriately. The pack, now cut by a third of their former numbers, flowed down the canyon, then hopped a rock and vanished.
The Hives had changed since even a few months ago. The formerly semi-distinct structures seemed to have been squashed together and fused, forming one giant entity. Newt could even feel its mind, sluggish and complacent as smaller creatures moved away and continued to retrieve ore. No longer normal drones, the Miners had excreted creep to support the new tunnels, and to help keep superheated steam out of them.
The slow evolution of these underground Clusters was driven by necessity, and already the evolutions had taken different paths at each area of the world. The mining colonies were turning into extremely acidic slugs, boring out large tunnels through metal rich rock. Afterwards, these tunnels were used as highways to avoid unwelcome eyes. Near the Eagle base, the two Hives had developed into heavily fortified bunkers, spitting out thousands of new Zerg warriors every day.
Newt was confidant, but a little antsy. The first moves he made would have to be made with great precision, or the ones he was going to manipulate might do something unplanned. The beginning move would be made in, he checked with the half dozen changelings who had been given the mission, about thirty minutes. Resigned, he did an audit of his Swarm. A hundred thousand zerglings were hidden near important locations, ready to swarm the nearest enemies. Following them would be fifteen thousand hydralisks and eight thousand roaches, which were untested as of yet. Fortunately, the carapace of the Zerg had had some improvements to dissipate lasers and force. Thousands of support type units were ready to follow the combat types into battle. Some of the strains in this category were the mortans (lurker variants spitting mini-banelings), mutalisks, scourge, a pair of guardians and broodlords, and some infested terran and banelings to give armor busting support. Newt was quite proud of himself, standing in his bunker HQ, and then the changelings moved. Their mission? To sow division and gain information on the enemies capabilities. The primary target was the blackrobes who everyone seemed to fear. Let's just see who should be feared, Newt chuckled, fending off a twinge of conscious. For the glory of the SWARM!
A/N: I'm actually stumped for original ideas for my Zerg Swarm. If anyone can give me a good, original type of Strain, *commence cheesy TV anchor voice* you can get your own character! Even better, the best one will gain the honor of introducing a new faction to the war! (Just not Chaos. I hate them, and don't want to write their story.)
As you can see, Newt has come up with his own names for the Imperial factions. I think they are pretty descriptive for someone who just met the forces in question. I must extend thanks to Kane, who diligently reviews my work and helps me better this story.