I Am The Swarm

Standing over two meters tall, clad in seamless keratin armor and sporting jagged bone spikes from their ramming horns, the three humanoid figures exuded a brutal aesthetic of primal violence.

Two were male and one female, distinguishable by their body shapes and the subtle differences in their armor. The female’s frame was slightly slimmer, her armor less angular, and her bone spikes more restrained.

‘So, this is the true form of the Swarm?’ Bular thought, suppressing a sigh. From their protective suits alone, it was clear that this was not a race to be trifled with.

Yet, a faint sense of disdain began to creep into his thoughts. He found the Swarm’s protective suits overly ornate, bordering on impractical. A suit capable of shielding a body from the radiation of space wasn’t exactly rare for an interstellar civilization, but it certainly wasn’t cheap either.

All this flashy extravagance—does it serve any purpose other than driving up manufacturing costs? Or do they really plan to board enemy ships and engage in melee combat?

To Bular, this reeked of outdated thinking. What era are they living in? They still cling to such primitive ideas. Their civilization must be young. Perhaps some fortuitous encounter accelerated their technological progress, but their ancient instincts for close combat and hunting clearly remain ingrained. These thoughts fed a growing sense of superiority.

‘That explains why their bioweapons excel at close-quarters combat—they have a clear preference for hand-to-hand fighting.’

“Welcome, guests of the Troi!” A deep voice cut through Bular’s musings, snapping him back to reality. The momentary surge of superiority quickly receded; after all, he was standing in the heart of enemy territory. Angering the host here would likely lead to disastrous consequences.

Thankfully, the protective suit concealed his facial expressions, preventing any offense from being detected. Moreover, the Swarm’s greeting as “guests,” while not “friends,” hinted at a mutual understanding.

The Troi had no desire to waste resources and manpower clashing with the Swarm over this mission. Likewise, the Swarm likely wished to avoid offending the Confederation unnecessarily. With this shared foundation, negotiations could proceed.

Bular’s mind raced. ‘How can I secure the greatest possible benefit for the empire?’

Although the Troi were the dominant power in the Outer-ring, they had only extended invitations to three civilizations in their history. Each instance left a significant mark on their annals. If this invitation to the Swarm could be managed diplomatically, maximizing benefits while maintaining dignity, the operation would undoubtedly become a historical milestone.

While the top brass would claim most of the credit, as the first to engage the Swarm, Bular knew his name would also be recorded in glory.

Refocusing, Bular noticed a subtle detail: the Swarm representative was speaking in Riken, a language shared between them.

That made sense—after all, even if the Swarm used their own language, he wouldn’t understand it. Using a mutually comprehensible tongue was practical. However, this wasn’t what stood out most.

The significant point was that the voice wasn’t being amplified or transmitted through any devices. Instead, it carried naturally through the air.

Admittedly, even that wasn’t extraordinary—creating a habitable ecological chamber within their own base would be trivial for the Swarm. What truly stood out to Bular was that the representative wasn’t wearing a breathing mask.

Their facial features were fully exposed, indicating the room’s atmospheric conditions were breathable for them.

Bular immediately activated the analyzer built into his protective suit. This tool, a standard feature of such suits, was designed to analyze the composition of the atmosphere on alien planets, ensuring safe disembarkation.

Atmospheric analysis was crucial. By examining the air composition, it was possible to approximate the environmental conditions of the host species. The Interstellar Technological Confederation maintained atmospheric samples from thousands of planets across over ten thousand star systems.

If the Swarm’s environment matched an existing sample, it would reveal where they originated. If not, it would suggest that the Swarm were an extragalactic species that had somehow ended up in this galaxy. This discovery could have profound implications.

Although the Swarm representative’s posture was upright and exuded a harmonious aesthetic, Bular couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. However, he had no time to dwell on this unease.

Everything he had just thought and done—the activation of the analyzer and his observations—had taken place in mere moments. The analysis results would take much longer, but Bular needed to respond now.

“Greetings. I am Bular of the Troi civilization, a member of the Interstellar Technological Confederation. It is an honor to meet you,” he said, performing a high-level Troi greeting gesture.

Although the Swarm likely wouldn’t understand the significance of the gesture now, if they ever joined the Confederation, this kind of basic etiquette would be recorded in the annals of various civilizations. By showing respect now, Bular could avoid potential accusations of rudeness in the future—a preemptive measure to prevent unnecessary conflicts.

“What is your purpose here?” The deep voice asked, and the lead male Swarm representative made a motion, which Bular interpreted as a gesture of Swarm etiquette.

“I come in the spirit of friendship and hope to gain yours as well,” Bular replied.

The purpose of his visit, of course, was obvious from both the information gathered from the Daqi and the broadcasts made by the Troi fleet. However, it was still necessary to formally ask and clarify the intent. Diplomatic protocol demanded explicit exchanges; this was not a place for guessing games.

The Swarm representative nodded and made a universal “please” gesture, indicating the chairs behind them. From the gesture and the crude furniture’s design, the meaning was unmistakable.

Thanks to Bular’s humble and respectful demeanor, the initial interaction was free of hostility. Both sides sat down in a relatively amicable atmosphere.

The chair-like objects, while wild in design and adhering to the Swarm’s untamed aesthetic, thankfully lacked the soft, fleshy materials Bular had feared. As he nervously lowered himself onto the seat, the firm surface beneath him brought unexpected relief, and he unconsciously exhaled.

As both parties settled in, Bular finally had a moment to observe the room more closely. His protective suit had built-in scanning capabilities, but it was already stretching boundaries to analyze the air composition subtly.

Overtly using his scanner to survey the surroundings would be considered highly arrogant and provocative in any civilization. No one with even a shred of diplomacy would make such a blunder.

That said, there wasn’t much worth scanning in this room. The walls were lined with mysterious, faintly glowing purple plants, giving the dim space an eerie, organic ambiance. Thanks to the advanced optics in his suit’s visor, which included low-light vision as a basic feature, Bular could see clearly despite the dim lighting.

A quick glance confirmed the simplicity of the room—it was essentially a large cavern, roughly 400 to 500 square meters in size, devoid of unnecessary decorations. There was nothing here that remotely suggested advanced technology.

If Bular didn’t already know the Swarm’s overwhelming combat capabilities, he might have mistaken this place for the den of primitive creatures on a feral planet.

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