I Am The Swarm

“First, send the injured back to the base to determine what’s wrong with them, and ensure they’re isolated!” General Masai concluded the meeting. The initial step was to ascertain whether the rescued individuals had any chance of survival. If not, the current concerns would naturally resolve themselves.

An elite medical team was dispatched, taking off from an orbital battleship and descending into the atmosphere to land at Cross Base.

Hours later, a report was placed in front of the commanders.

The findings revealed that the rescued individuals were afflicted by a peculiar toxin. This toxin not only paralyzed the central nervous system, effectively blocking nerve signals, but also acted as a preservative.

After being injected with the toxin, the recipients’ consciousness remained awake, yet their bodies entered a state of dormancy. Their bodily functions nearly halted, significantly reducing consumption.

This explained why the rescued individuals had remained “fresh” for days without food or water.

The medical team’s experts were astonished and remarked that, had the Riken planet discovered this toxin earlier, it could have greatly expedited research on space hibernation drugs.

Despite this, the toxin still held tremendous research value.

“So, you’re saying this is just a form of anesthetic? It isn’t lethal to organisms? Once the effects wear off, they just need some recuperation?” a captain asked during the video conference. Privately, however, he thought this was far from good news.

In this Riken expedition, every fleet commander had ties to various factions behind the scenes—corporations, families, allies, and more. This was, effectively, a coalition force.

One of the ground bases belonged to the faction he was aligned with.

If a rescue mission became necessary, he would inevitably have to deploy troops. But in the current situation, where reinforcements were unavailable, the number of troops at his disposal directly translated to his bargaining power.

Bargaining power determined how much he could claim when it came time to divide the spoils after the alien species was eradicated.

Naturally, he was reluctant to see his forces significantly depleted, especially since the swarm’s lairs were veritable meat grinders.

“So, how long does this anesthetic last?” a staff officer pursued another line of inquiry. If the captured patrol members could endure for a longer period, this could help shape a more cautious rescue plan.

“If injected every seven days, the condition could be maintained for several months,” the medical expert explained. However, before the attendees could breathe a sigh of relief, the expert added, “But it’s unlikely the swarm would store food for that long. In the hive we captured this time, they took 210 personnel.”

The expert left the rest unsaid, but the implication was clear: 210 were taken, 112 had been found alive. Where were the rest? The longer they delayed, the lower the survival rate for those in other hives.

General Masai cleared his throat to shift the discussion: “Next, let’s discuss how to rescue the captured patrol members. Dr. Balt, how is your research progressing? Do you have any findings that might aid this operation?”

“General, we’ve had very little time, so our research into the swarm’s pheromones is still in its infancy,” Dr. Balt admitted.

Seeing General Masai’s furrowed brows, he quickly added, “However, we have made some progress. We’ve set up several experimental chambers where we placed captured Raiders to observe their interactions. We’ve used equipment to record the sounds of their physical movements during these exchanges.”

“Have you deciphered the meaning of these sounds?” a captain asked, somewhat excited.

“Of course not, not yet,” Dr. Balt replied, taking a dramatic pause.

The captain resisted an urge to curse, unsure if it was appropriate to voice his frustration.

Dr. Balt continued, “Although we haven’t decoded the meanings, we’ve broken the audio recordings into segments and reassembled them into new sequences.”

“And what’s the point of that?” another captain asked.

“Each of these sounds holds specific meanings. Strung together, they convey a complete message. By scrambling them, it’s akin to rearranging words in a sentence—something that might leave the swarm thinking, ‘I recognize each word, but what does this mean?’” He elaborated and then quietly added, “Probably. Maybe.”

The crowd felt an overwhelming sense of unreliability.

Sensing their disappointment, Dr. Balt hurriedly added, “Time constraints are the main issue. But we’ve observed that the scrambled audio still produces some effects. When played for Raiders, they exhibit visible agitation. If not for their pheromone-based recognition mechanisms, they might even attack each other.” ŖＡɴＯBЕś

“Based on this, we’ve developed a small tool you could think of as a toxin. When dispersed into an area, it effectively blocks the spread of pheromones. Simultaneously, it disrupts the swarm’s nervous system, inhibiting cholinesterase. This induces heightened agitation, overstimulation, and eventual death. However, this process takes a bit of time.”

“How long?” a staff officer inquired.

“Our experiments indicate about a few hours.”

Combat, though, happens in moments. A few hours? By then, the battle would be long over.

Nonetheless, the ability to block the swarm’s communication made the tool worthy of deployment.

“Is it difficult to produce?” another officer asked.

“Here lies the problem,” Dr. Balt admitted. “Currently, the toxin is only a laboratory prototype, far from mass production. The production process isn’t particularly complex, but we lack the necessary manufacturing equipment.”

The crowd mentally cursed him for wasting their time. With the rescue mission imminent, this invention was useless for now.

“Ahem.” General Masai cleared his throat again. “Dr. Balt, do you have anything else to add?”

His intention was to give Balt an out, but to his dismay, the scientist nodded and continued, “I do have one more point.”

General Masai felt a pang of regret but motioned for him to proceed.

“This time, our findings deep within the lair suggest the existence of a swarm species capable of producing white filaments. For now, we’ve termed them ‘Weavers.’ Previously, we hypothesized the swarm is a highly specialized race, with Raiders excelling in frontal assaults, Burrowers adept at tunneling, and Assassins specialized in stealth.

“The paralytic toxin found in the survivors’ bodies is likely associated with the Assassins. The underground granary requires at least Assassins and Weavers for its maintenance—though it’s possible they are the same species.”

“Given the granary’s scale, maintaining it would require a significant number of these creatures. Yet when our teams entered, they found none. Previously, we’ve only encountered Raiders. Where are the rest?”

“The granary connects to a network of tunnels. Since our focus was on the rescue mission, our teams sealed those pathways but didn’t explore further. They might be hiding there,” Cross added. The battlefield being near her base meant she had the most detailed information.

Dr. Balt shook his head. “What I want to discuss isn’t where they’re hiding but the implications of their behavior.”

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