Disclaimer: Throughout this fic, I've channeled Abathur, pulled his thoughts into my own head, and unleashed them into the world. That's not enough. I seek to become Abathur, to grow his skin over my own. I will turn flesh into clay and shape it to my will. I will remake the world with cells and symbiotes, turn forests into factories, and grow cities from seeds. And the best part, the absolute crown jewel in this vision, is that it is finally science fact, rather than science fiction. All the pieces are in place. We can sequence every letter and now, with CRISPR, change them just as easily. The only thing we need now is time. Still don't own Abathur, though. At least, not yet.

(When you reach an end, break past the chain. When a path is blocked, get on a train. When jokes run out, endure the pain. When humor lives, a transitions gained.

A new era of transition jokes begins now. Mediocrity will be slain. All hail the transition!)

All aboard the pain train! ~f

Catalyst

The glow of the wards was palpable now, a harsh illumination that cast the surrounding shadows into harsh relief. Abathur could only stare in elation as the energy pooled exactly as it was supposed to, congealing in a rough sphere fair above the ground, while his small fleet of overlords converged above it. All the pieces were in place, the weavers were on standby to correct any problems, and finally, finally, everything was coming together. The only thing left was the raw power, and he could gather that.

"Luna. Require presence." The summons was brief, her arrival would be briefer. He had spent years, well over a decade, apart from the Swarm. Countless days that he could have spent improving and honing them, moving them towards perfection, all lost. But he had learned, he had taken what little essence this world had to offer, absorbed the knowledge of its psionics.

He could already picture it now, the weavers draping their patterns across creep, adding the intricate runes to hatchery walls. The psionic light of wards washing across Char, Kaldir, and so many more. How would the psionics' runes fit inside the depths of the Swarm's own essence? Abathur took a moment to indulge in his fantasies. They would be reality soon enough, after all.

(Transition)

One of the unexpected downsides to being zerg was the perfect memory. Certainly, it helped Luna in tests and essays, but, on the other hand, she could perfectly picture every single second of Umbridge's ugly human face sneering at a classroom of open textbooks. She could remember every word within the silly little book, and yet she had already been forced to read and reread it a dozen times over. Oh, how far the Rotfang conspiracy had spread. Abathur had repeatedly reassured her that her teeth could grow back now, but the ministry was still trying to rot hers away. She had to admire their persistence, at least. It's not like there was anything else of worth in them. Luna had stopped even bothering to pretend to read at this point, preferring to watch the wrackspurts dancing around her...teacher? Was that the right word? Probably not, but Luna enjoyed watching her wrackspurts even in spite of the horrid pink background.

"Is there something interesting around my head, Ms. Lovegood?" The pink pest asked.

"No, there's absolutely nothing there," Luna reassured her. Snickers broke out around the classroom. Luna wasn't quite sure why. From the look of things, neither was Umbridge. She stared at Luna in confusion for a few seconds, before returning her attention to the book on her desk, leaving Luna to wallow in the atmosphere of stupidity that humans seemed so good at creating. Were they actively trying to sabotage their own young? At this point, she would take any excuse to get out of here.

"Luna. Require presence."

That worked. Luna stopped pretending to read and abruptly began to pack her things, to the stares of her classmates and the Rotfang perpetuator. It took them a full twenty seconds before anyone began to react.

"Ms. Lovegood, I have not dismissed you," Umbridge spoke up.

"Don't care. I've got better things to do," Luna said, idly wondering if it was worth saving her place. Probably not.

"Regardless of what you think, this class is required by the Ministry, and you will sit down."

"This was a class?" Luna asked, faking a shocked tone. "I thought that required, you know, teaching. When were you planning on doing that?" She was nearly done packing at this point. Just her quill left.

"Detention, Ms. Lovegood."

"I'll pass," Luna said. Before Umbridge could respond, she was out of the door and on her way to Abathur. Used as she was to ignoring the other students, she didn't notice the speculative glances she received as she walked out the door.

(Transition)

Luna's arrival was uneventful. After a brief explanation of their goal she was more than willing to begin. Her devotion to the Swarm reminded Abathur of the Swarmborn broodmothers. A fortunately apt comparison, considering he wouldn't necessarily have the power to control her otherwise. Regardless, she was ready and sitting in the center of the weavers creation. Abathur activated it.

Immediately, massive threads of energy thrust outwards from Luna, feeding into the cone surrounding her. The wards concentrated Luna's power, drawing it together into a giant sphere. The pulsing mass expanded, starting from the paltry ball sized orb Abathur and his brood had gathered, to a massive orb, several meters in diameter. Abathur's overlords gathered above and around it, orbiting the sphere, waiting until it reached critical mass. Abathur monitored the process carefully. If the ward destabilized at this point, the explosion would likely be quite visible, which was an inconvenience Abathur would prefer to avoid, especially since the overlords and Luna would likely be caught in it.

The weavers' design proved effective. In bare minutes, Luna was drained dry and her power was suspended in midair. Unbidden, a pleased hiss emerged from Abathur's throat. He was minutes, maybe seconds away from reunification. As the overlords flew into a column above the barely contained sphere, a manic grin emerged from the few vestiges of humanity he had yet to purge.

The ward released its grasp on Luna's power, directing it straight upwards into the column of overlords. The first overlord was struck directly by the psionic energy, absorbed it, focused it, and then sent it upwards to the next overlord. Link by link, the signal ascended the chain of overlords, the organic transmitters refining and perpetuating the beacon. In a matter of minutes, the ascension was complete. The final overlord gathered its newly received power and fired the narrow purple beam into the blue abyss. Then, nothing. Abathur narrowed his eyes. His scythe like limbs began to twitch.

"Abathur? Did it work?" Luna asked from behind him.

"Unacceptable," Abathur turned towards his weavers, signalling them to go over the wards. They swarmed over the creep, inspecting the runes laid on the ground, searching for any fault. Abathur called down his overlords as well, forcefully wrenching a hunk of flesh from one and eating it, examining the sequences. Finding it free of flaws, he sent it back up. The weavers had finished their survey as well, also finding nothing. Finally, he turned towards Luna. "Attempt again."

"I'm not sure I can do that. That took a lot out of me."

"Irrelevant. Attempt agai-" A presence slammed into Abathur's brood with visceral force. The air felt thick, and the hum of billions filled Abathur's head. Images flashed past his eyes, of creep covered worlds, of swarms of zerglings running in pursuit of their prey, of a thousand mutalisks descending on a new world, escorting...guardians? Odd, he had removed that strain from most hive clusters half a decade ago. It didn't matter. He was back with the Swarm, and he reveled in its enormity.

"Abathur, the most productive of my children," a voice began, deep and resonant, as if forced through thick liquid. "You have found yourself most estranged from your home. I suspect you have a great deal to inform me of. You, and our newly found family." The entity, to which Abathur hesitated to assign a name, focused itself on Luna, dispelling the excess information that had driven her to the ground. Abathur hadn't noticed that. That required correction.

"I must admit to a great deal of curiosity for how there came to be two of you, Evolution Master," The impossibility continued. "After all, I can only recall forming you a singular time." Another one of him? What? How? Abathur was one of a kind, unique. The only way there could be two of him was...no. On the one hand, it explained so much. The terrans lack of technological development, their ignorance of the Swarm, the protoss, and everything else outside their atmosphere. As far as he knew, it wasn't possible, but then again, neither was turning a small rodent into a hollow ceramic structure.

"Unsure," he began. "Temporal displacement, most likely explanation. Unknown transportation medium. Many variables."

"An intriguing situation," said the Overmind, the eternal will of the Swarm. "Just what has happened to you, my child?."

The Overmind: It's actually just like your mind. I mean, isn't your mind, by default, over your body? ~f

The Overmind: If the Swarm ever had a god, it was the Overmind. Created by Amon for the purpose of accelerating the zerg's evolution, the Overmind was a near omniscient being in total command of the entire Swarm. Its intelligence was incalculably vast, capable of predicting the exact outcome of a hypothetical battle, down to the actions of every unit. Its plans could stretch across decades. The Overmind lived, in its own words, for "countless millennia", and through its influence the Swarm became formidable weapon, capable of swallowing worlds en masse. The Overmind in its physical form resembles a titanic eye, bordered by massive curving tentacles which are ridged with spikes. Even after death, the Overmind's body was so vast that brain activity continued for nearly a decade. The Overmind exercised its will through cerebrates, sentient beings entrusted with broods of their own. Each cerebrate was made personally by the Overmind, and protects its children. If a cerebrate is slain, the Overmind can return it to life almost immediately. There are very few things in the universe capable of preventing this process. The Overmind values the survival of its children above all else, and will take any measures necessary to protect them. It is a deadly intelligence with the patience and ruthlessness to push its plans forward regardless of the cost. Every morning when you open your eyes, give thanks to the Overmind. It has decided you're not worth ending.