Disclaimer: Yes, I do like ants. They are glorious and numerous and efficient and deadly and cute. But the ones I have are not science. They are nothing near science. What I'm trying to say is, I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas science anymore. Also, don't own it.
(Look, a transition! Where? Why right here! Don't you know what a transition looks like? No? Well, they look like this. What a stunning and completely new revelation!)
Actually, they're much shorter in practice. But if you didn't know that, I don't know why you're starting on chapter 20. ~f
Catalyst
Add the belladonna petal to his right hand, let the bacteria break away the extraneous material, while keeping the left hand stirring the existing mixture. The mandrake needed to be added at the exact moment the sodium phosphate and thallium oxide started reacting to each other. The toxin neutralizer was nearly completed within Abathur's own body, and would be ready to concentrate and release at the same time as the belladonna. Then, the potion would finally be complete, after half a dozen failed attempts. He was honestly surprised at the difficulty. Most potions the humans had made were simple, both to make and to convert to more effective variants. This one was genuinely challenging, a rare diversion. That it was more important than any of the other potions he had made only made the challenge more engaging.
Abathur was very, very close to completing the potion used in the animagus ritual, the one used to find one's form and, presumably, get its essence. The cauldron sat in front of him, boiling a sickly white as Abathur prepared the final ingredients, the components that would stabilize the mixture. And then he could truly cast of the terran shell, if only temporarily.
Some of the mistakes could likely have been avoided if he'd only been more patient. An ingredient added before processing was done, stirring one direction rather than the other (Abathur had no idea why that made a difference, yet the ruins of the bronze cauldron he had been using proved it did), or, apparently, sneezing in the potion, all ruined it. He really did need to fix his allergies.
But he had taken a great deal of extra care on the brew in front of him. Absolutely no mistakes were allowed. At last, he added the final ingredients. The potion bubbled and sparked, turning a dark purple color. Abathur picked up the cauldron and poured it into a bottle. A second later, the contents of the bottle went down his throat.
Abathur wasn't entirely sure what would happen next. According to the book he had gotten the original potion recipe from, he was supposed to sit down in an isolated area. Well, the deserted classroom he was using was isolated enough. Abathur took a seat in and waited. A moment later, his head slammed into the desk.
Abathur didn't notice. He wasn't in a classroom, in a human school for psionics, in a room filled with dust and cobwebs. He saw something much better.
Curving lines of black, ribbed carapace. A cavern filled with pillars of flesh and soft green light. Everywhere he looked, cocoons filled with a green fluid. They varied in shade and size, but they all had something within them, things of twisted flesh and glowing tumors. Through a particularly large cocoon, a massive larva stared at him with a multitude of glowing eyes.
Abathur was home.
Not really, of course. His current shell was probably slumped over a desk, comatose. He would be gone from the illusion the second the potion wore off. But for the moment, he could enjoy the familiar surroundings of the Evolution pit, the place he had made and worked in for uncountable years. Even if only temporarily, it was glorious to once again be within its confines.
A familiar slithering sound pulled Abathur from his nostalgia. It came up behind Abathur, who rapidly turned around to face it. It was him. The evolution master in all his glory. He had expected this, had it described in the book. A vision of the being he would become. Abathur approached his future and past. "Give essence. Required for form." No need to be subtle. It was him after all.
The vision ignored him. Well, there hadn't been any refusal. Abathur reached to one of the globes hanging off the side of his head, aiming to pull it off. His hand passed right through.
Confused, Abathur attempted to grab more of the essence containing flesh of the hallucination. Again, his hand went directly through, touching nothing. As if it was nothing but an image. A hallucination with nothing to grab. But that couldn't be. He needed this essence, needed it to transform. Needed it to escape the flesh he was imprisoned in. If he couldn't get it the normal way then- then... Focus. Dampen adrenaline. Stressors reveal flaws. Flaws reveal potential. If Abathur couldn't get the essence the traditional way, then he would need to get as much as possible and build up the rest on his own. He could still see the strands contained within the vision before him. It wouldn't give him the same clarity as consuming its flesh. But it would be enough to build off, to recreate his essence, make it anew.
Abathur ran his eyes over everything in front of him, committing the glimpses of essence to memory. Markers, proteins, controllers, he examined as much as he could. He knew he was on a time limit. The moment the last drop of potion was purified, this image would disappear as suddenly as it had came.
Abathur stared at the image for what felt like hours, unmoving and unblinking as the apparition moved around the evolution pit. He stared until his eyes felt as if they were all but dried husks, and his limbs trembled with the effort of staying still. He may not get another chance, not with the gazes of the terrans upon him, and not with all the ingredients that he had needed to steal to make the potion.
Abathur was interrupted by a rough shake on the shoulder. Within a second, the visions of home, purpose, and essence were replaced with the cold stone of Hogwarts and the peering stares of his camouflages. What had happened? He should still have enough potion flowing through his mind to inspire the vision. Why had he been pulled out?
Abathur took a cursory glance through his camouflages' minds. Perhaps they had seen what happened, why the potion had worn off so soon. What he saw only took a few seconds to fill him with rage.
"Unacceptable. Removed from trance!" How easy it would be to seize their flesh, pour venom into their veins, sever their spines at the base. They had removed his escape, his one chance at regaining his own essence!
The terrans looked back at him, shocked. "We thought there was something wrong with you." Harry said. "You weren't responding when we called out to you."
Abathur didn't care about their excuses. These terrans had removed him from home, stolen everything, again! "Response, intentional. Removal not option!"
Unfortunately, the human's eyes had wandered. Abathur saw Hermione looking behind him, her gaze wandering to the book he had been using. Her eyes widened. "Abathur, were you trying to become an Animagus? That's incredibly dangerous. You could have killed yourself!"
"More dangerous with interference," Abathur responded. "Will remove additional risk. Permanently."
"Mate, what are you saying?" Ron said.
With missiles and bullets or shakes and concern, it didn't seem to matter, every time terrans were anywhere near him, they got in the way, or they attempted to kill him. "Interruption, will not occur again. Your presence, undesirable. Will not continue." Necessity of camouflage be damned, these humans would spend no longer near him. Unwilling to spend any longer in their company, Abathur walked right past his former camouflage. He wasn't sure of his exact destination, but he knew it would be far from them. With luck, he wouldn't have to restrain himself next time they met.
(Transition)
The oddly carapaced bipeds didn't stop coming, with their cubes of metal, and their cylinders of noxious poison. Every day, like clockwork, they arrived at the fringes of the Hive territory. Sometimes in different places, sometimes in groups, sometimes alone, but they always came. Why, the Hive could not discern. All they seemed to do was observe, but the Hive knew they still posed a grave threat. The empty shells of several flying swarms, and the crushed remains of ground soldiers gave proof enough of that.
At first, the Hive was content to let them observe. They stayed for the most part outside the realm of the webs, taking care to avoid them even as the spiders spread them under their feet. But sooner or later, they all stepped one point too far, or crushed a Hive member. Then they were attacked, chased away rather than killed. It was not for a lack of trying on the Hive's part. The intruders simply had too many tools, too many weapons at their disposal for any significant pressure.
With such a consistent threat on their borders, the Hive began attacking on sight. Any sign of pink flesh and rainbow carapace was met with a rush of the Hives soldiers to drive it away. Never did they manage to inflict crippling damage, but stings, needles and parasites still took their toll upon the trespassers, much to their regret.
This state of affairs continued for some time, the interlopers remaining at the edges of the Hive territory, and the Hive driving them off, but still experiencing casualties. Then one day, the Hive got lucky. A smaller intruder, escorted by others of similar size, carrying no deadly canisters, and seemingly unknowing of the Hive's borders. It wandered within them, seemingly without a care. Had the intruders truly grown so bold? If so, they would teach it why the others had fled.
The Hive swarmed forward. This time, there was no cloud of poison to meet them. The ants and flyers swarmed over the small one. It had no defenses, and fell quickly under the tide of venom and fangs. Soon, it was dead. Perhaps they could figure out its species' tricks from the essence the fallen one would provide.
The others attempted to flee, but the legs they depended on were no match in speed for the wings of the Hive swarms. Before they had gone more than a dozen steps, the barrage of stings and needles brought all of them down. They had not been prepared to face the Hive, and paid the appropriate price. This bade well for the Hive. It meant even the mightiest fell, had weaknesses that could be exploited. The Hive would be sure to take advantage of it.
(Transition)
(Transcript of broadcast from radio channel 3.14, broadcasted at 9:53 am, 3/27/93
And now we're joined by entomologist Gabe Minrat, here to talk about the newly discovered species of ant rampaging through Trossachs national park. Mr. Minrat, thank you for joining us.
My pleasure, Jerry.
Now, tell me, what's so special about this particular species of ant, and why is there so much excitement about it?
Well, these recruiter ants, as we're calling them, have colonies that aren't made of of just ants. We've seen bees, wasps, spiders, scorpions and beetles, working alongside them, and those are just the ones we've seen! That kind of cooperation among such diverse species is completely unprecedented behavior, we've never seen anything like them. And to think, they're right here in Scotland.
But where on Earth did these ants come from? Surely they didn't just spring up overnight.
Of course not. Now, we don't know exactly how they got so big, but the recruiter ants were likely being suppressed by some predator that we removed, or they got here from another continent. Whatever the cause, they have grown quite a bit.
But what effect would this have? What can we expect to change in the areas where these recruiter ants have spread?
Long term, we can definitely see some major ecological effects. Recruiter ants completely take over whatever habitat they inhabit, especially since there seems to be a complete lack of infighting. It's really an unprecedented level of cooperation. They actively hunt any creatures within their territory, and anything that so much as touches the webs they've spread around the place. My team have been chased off more times than we can count.
They've chased you off? Are they aggressive towards humans?
Extremely so. At first, they only attacked when we disturbed their webs, but by this point, any sign of us causes them to attack. Just the other day, a group of teens wandered into their territory, and they were swarmed and killed before there was any chance for escape. We only found them days after the fact.
Thats... thats terrible. Is anything going to be done about them?
At this point, we likely have no other choice. Normally, we could ignore this. Wild creatures kill people sometimes. It's unfortunate, but it happens. But with the recruiter ants, even leaving aside the ecological effects, they are spreading dangerously close to human settlements, and that's not going to end well.
How would you push them back?
Well, at first, we considered fire, but that has obvious problems. Manual removal isn't really an option with the numbers involved. But, fortunately, the ants have displayed quite a weakness to insecticides. We're probably going to have to run a full-on extermination campaign, at the rate these creatures expand. If we don't wipe them out, completely they'd just come back, given time.
Hydralisk: The most distinctive and emblematic of zerg forces, the hydralisk is a spine launching infantry unit. Sadistic and deadly, the hydralisk resembles a long snake, albeit one with a massive crest, long, scythe tipped arms, and a face that only a masochist could love, as said face immediately rips apart its victims. Hydralisks are by far the most savage of zerg creatures, a trait the swarm uses ruthlessly, even putting them into a frenzy during combat to increase their effectiveness. The hydralisk's main form of attack is launching high-speed needles, penetrating deep into flesh, metal, and plasma alike. A sustained barrage of hydra spines can annihilate anything from colossi to battlecruisers. The greatest symbol of the Swarm's military, any sighting of a hydralisk is a sure sign of a nearby zerg force.