Regicide

The Matriarch was confused.

Well, not confused exactly. More like puzzled, if such a term could be applied to a creature that stood fifteen feet tall and was free of remorse and petty morality. She was perfect, her kind was perfect and that every one of the mammals on this experimental hydroponic farm space station had been cocooned was testament to that fact. So, in light of this knowledge, why was there a similar organism standing in front of her?

"Do you mind?" asked the mirror darkly, flexing her egg tube as she started laying eggs eerily reminiscent of the Matriarch's own. "I'm making babies here."

The Matriarch hissed, processing this imposter's telepathic abilities. Kind of like her kind's own hive mind instinct, but with the ability for actual words. Still, that meant nothing in the long run. This was her egg laying site thank you very much and she wasn't about to share it.

"This is mine...mine!" the Matriarch screeched (not actual words, but telepathy would allow for their translation), plopping out another egg as if to demonstrate that fact. "This is my ship, my home and-..."

She trailed off-Queen no. 2 wasn't paying any attention to her. Instead she was glancing back at the eggs she'd laid, as if she was the ultimate giver of life, the mother of pure life forms. And indeed, while the Matriarch had to admit that this similar, if slightly less muscular organism had a certain purity of essence, this ship was only big enough for two species-hunters and prey.

But what's to say I can't make this imposter the prey? the Matriarch wondered, glancing at her precious eggs with the givers of life ready to hatch on a moment's notice. This species is impressive. And the stronger the species, the stronger the offspring...

Admittedly what counted as strength was subjective, but from her genetic memory, the xenomorph queen knew that as powerful as her children were that spawned from the inhabitants of this ship, they were nothing compared to the might of what came forth from what said inhabitants called "Predators." A quaint name, almost a misnomer really since their actions were based on hunting rather than true predation, but with images of so-called "Predaliens" in her mind...well, raping pregnant mammals in poorly recorded holos aside, it certainly presented an opportunity.

Hissing at her offspring, the Matriarch prepared to take it.

"You know, I think we got off to a bad start," the Matriarch said slowly, watching her facehuggers move towards the imposter. "I'm sure we had our differences but..."

It was a wasted effort. The other queen was ignoring her and trying to be friendly while one of the mammals screamed as a chestburster erupted from him (wasn't he the same one that bragged about smuggling potato crisps onboard? Whatever, that hardly mattered) seemed to be a lost cause. And with her children suddenly impaled by a volley of needle spines, the attempt to infect the imposter didn't seem to be a lost cause. It was a lost cause.

"Behold my children," sneered the imposter, gesturing at some newly arrived slithering organisms, standing 2.8 meters in height, 5.5 meters in length and having scythes that made figures such as size and weight academic. "They can slice your children at close range or impale them from a distance. So, if you're done with your puny attempts are resistance, your worth to the Zerg Swarm can be assessed."

Pondering how ridiculous it was for such a species to have a name, let alone using it, the Matriarch let out a screech. As obviously insane as this zerg queen was, she had a point. Facehuggers would do no good here. However, some of her children had grown up long ago...

"So, as you can see, the Swarm reigns supreme," sneered the imposter as her children advanced. "Now bear witness to...oh..."

One word, the same word that so many of the prey species uttered before either being torn apart or taken back to the hive. Apparently "oh" was a universal form of communication when it came to organisms that stood seven feet tall when fully erect. With jet black skin, hardened carapace and molecular acid for blood, drones tended to invoke that reaction. Especially when they outnumbered the foe by at least three to one.

"Behold the children of mine that have grown up," the Matriarch hissed, her hive mind keeping her warriors at bay...for now. "The children that have spread throughout this ship and will either remove all opposition or use it for the good of my species. All that remains is for us to decide which will be the case."

The xenomorphs, or "Kainde-Amedha" as the most formidable prey species called them, weren't really helped by yet another cocooned mammal having its ribcage broken in a symphony of screams, blood and marrow. While the Matriarch had no doubt that she could take these…zerg down, it would cost valuable warriors to do so and until more hapless apes stumbled in here looking to rescue their kind, there'd be no more drones forthcoming. Still, the urge to fight to survive, even in hopeless circumstances, was a universal trait for developed life forms, even those who personified perfection. What was to say that these zerg wouldn't follow suit?

Then again, given that the false queen was staring out a viewport, maybe they would go quietly…

"You look at the stars for the last time…" the Matriarch hissed, preparing her warriors to strike as they did so. "Now prepare to…oh."

"Oh"…there was that word again. It was so demeaning really, having to resort to such a primitive method of communication. But with the approach of what she recognized as a Conestoga-class vessel, one of those that would bring well armed if equally hapless prey to spawn a higher form of life, "oh" seemed like a good word to use.

"Ah, more prey…" hissed the Matriarch, turning her attention back to the imposter. "Less physically impressive than yourself perhaps, but will still meet the same fate. They'll board this ship and-…"

"Um, I don't think they're boarding…"

Once again, the Matriarch turned to look at the approaching ship. Once again, she hissed the equivalent of "oh." Because while she was not unfamiliar with this class of prey species vessel, she was far more used to failed boarding attempts than watching a volley of missiles heading her way.

Oh…shit.

"Quickly!" screeched the Matriarch, beckoning to her warriors as somewhere in the depths of the space station, a piece of music called The Blue Danube started to play. "Protect the queen!"

"Queen?" hissed one of the xenomorphs. "Which queen?"

"Me!" yelled the two queens, glaring at each other immediately afterwards. A glare that was immediately replaced by that of exploding ordinance, the type that ruptured the space station's hull and drew xenomorph and zerg alike into the vacuum of space.

"Freedom!" one of the drones screeched. "Horrible horrible freedom!"

The Matriarch swelled in pride, even as she hurtled towards oblivion. Her children…loyal even to the end. An end that, even when in the form of 30mm railgun turrets, she was willing to face.

Still, at least knowing that a fake queen bitch was meeting the same fate made the process more bearable.

A/N

It's probably stating the obvious that the post-Brood War zerg queen bears great similarity to its xenomorph counterpart. It's probably also obvious to say that this oneshot is based upon a certain space shuttle scene from The Simpsons. So, combining the two together, I somehow came up with this.

And, in case it isn't obvious, I don't plan to submit to insect overlords, regardless of species. Sorry Kent ;)

Update (03/28/11): Corrected grammar errors.