Disclaimer: The developments of AI that have been so celebrated recently are the culmination of decades of work and research. Catalyst is the culmination of me having nothing to do in the summer, then not stopping. Personally, I think Catalyst is the more impressive of the two. Still not science though. Also, don't own it.
On a side note, Chapter 1 has been edited and updated. It's now much better.
(If the Earth detonated its molten core, it would either incinerate all of us in a fireball of ash and lava, or leave us to die in the cold, unfeeling vacuum of space. But for a moment, a brief, insignificant moment, we would witness the most glorious explosion in all of human history. That moment, that one single moment before complete annihilation, but after the chain reaction has started, that glorious instant would be called...a transition.)
Actually, I think that the sun going nova will be far more impressive...not to mention actually probable. ~f
Catalyst
"Entry, bad. Lying, worse. Unacceptable," Abathur said to an increasingly distressed Harry.
"You have to believe me! I didn't enter myself into the tournament," Harry cried. Abathur didn't care to hear Harry's excuses. He didn't care that Harry was in the tournament to begin with, either. He didn't care if it was intentional or a plot. The only reason he cared at all was that it was a convenient excuse to split off from the trio.
"Abathur's right. Harry, if you were going to enter, you could have let us have a chance too. You shouldn't have kept it secret from us," Ron said. An unexpected, but welcome addition. If he wasn't the only one splitting away, that would remove suspicion from him.
"I can't believe you two!" Hermione said. "Do you honestly believe Harry would put his own life at risk?"
"Yes. Has repeatedly. Regular occurrence," Abathur said.
Hermione flushed. "Ok, fair point. But do you really believe he would do it for something like money or glory?"
"Of course! Who wouldn't?" Ron said.
"Ron, I didn't enter myself," Harry protested.
Ron stared at Harry. "I wouldn't have minded if you wanted to enter. But why didn't you tell me about it? Why not let me have a chance?"
"Ron..."
"No, I should have seen this coming. After all, what's a little more glory for the Boy-Who-Lived?" With that, Ron stormed off.
Abathur followed close behind, but took a different path soon after. He made sure to stay far away from Ron. All things considered, that had gone perfectly. With luck, he'd never have to see any of those three again.
(Transition)
Abathur's brood moved through the woods in a nightmarish procession of poisoned fangs and hairy legs. In all shapes and sizes, his soldiers advanced across the creep that marked their domain. Today, he went to war.
The acromantula essence was finally filling the niches demanded in any large-scale conflict. It was about time for their first test, a way to apply stressors. Flaws would be revealed, and with them, potential. At long last, it was time to strike.
His attack force was approaching the centaur colony, passing unseen by the sentries. Abathur made no effort to keep his troops hidden. Why bother when the Hive-made ward took care of it for him? Within a minute, his entire force was settled inside the centaurs' defensive line.
The acromantulas moved unseen among the centaurs. Some of the centaurs walked around the massive spiders without so much as a glance. The notice-me-not ward was still functioning perfectly, preventing the centaurs from perceiving any member of the Swarm. The scene was almost surreal. Abathur could have marched his army straight through their little dwelling without a moment of conflict.
The illusion lasted right until an arachnolisk stabbed its blade through a centaur's chest. It was one of the larger strains, boasting a large set of scimitar-like blades on their front limbs, with a secondary set mounted to their mouth. Frontline brawlers. Effective, if not particularly unique.
The centaurs panicked as the ward failed, and the acromantulas appeared in their midst. Abathur made the most of their confusion, sending forth the teralings. Their streamlined frame and webbed-together limbs made them fast, and gave them the ability to glide through the air, making them ideal pursuers. Individually they were weak, but their numbers made up for that. This combined with their speed allowed them to tear many of the centaurs apart before they even had a chance to react.
The centaurs scattered. Some ducked into huts, only to return wielding bows and spears. The rest fled into the woods. There, they ran into the splicers. Splicers had swollen abdomens leading to a narrow head, all mounted on thick, imapling legs. Abathur had rooted them into the trees and ground surrounding the centaurs clearing. They contracted their abdomens, launching the venom in a powerful stream. The streams rammed straight through the centaurs, killing or poisoning each of their targets.
The centaurs had almost finished removing their non-combatants from the center of their colony, away from the zerg horde. The remaining few were running away as fast as they could. A small centaur, leaking from its eyes, stood paralyzed in the middle of the acromantula's path. Abathur idly ordered an arachnolisk to cut its head off.
A burst of panic pulled his attention to the edges of the forest. The centaurs had gathered on one front, and were making an attempt to push back the splicers. Even armed with only spears and arrows, they were surprisingly difficult to kill. They dodged each venomous stream with uncanny timing. If Abathur didn't know better, he would assume that they had something coordinating their movements, some overlord equivalent. Something he himself needed to create. Their dodges were supernaturally fluid, moving even before the splicer began to fire. That was interesting; Abathur would be sure to examine their corpses thoroughly. He diverted more of his splicers to the battlefront.
Even with all their grace, the centaurs had their limits, and with more and more jets to dodge, the centaurs began to fall, one by one. Crossing streams of venom left no room to escape. The splicers had nothing to fear from their primitive wooden weapons, Abathur had made sure of that. They had all the time in the world to learn how to track the hybrids.
Abathur sent the arachnolisks and the teralings behind the last fighting group. For all that they could dodge jets of venom, they had no defense against the massive wall of blades and fangs rushing at them.
With no warning, two splicers on the opposite end of the colony died. A pair of centaur warriors had snuck behind and sunk their blades deep into their skulls, right into the brain stem. All of a sudden, Abathur had a gap in his perimeter. Centaurs rushed past, nimbly dodging the splicer's crossfire.
Abathur was shocked. The centaurs had been a decoy, drawing his forces away. They had sacrificed their lives just to let the others escape. It was cold, it was effective, and it was for the good of the whole. It was remarkably zerg. If he'd possessed lips at that moment, Abathur would have smiled. They were going to be excellent stressors.
That didn't mean he was going to let them get away with this. Abathur left the arachnolisks and splicers behind to finish off the decoys. If the centaurs were willing to sacrifice themselves, he would be more than happy to make sure they paid the price. The teralings were sent after the fleeing group.
The small spiders ran up to the top of the trees. They spread their legs and leapt off, letting the thin flesh between their legs spread and catch the air beneath them. The teralings glided through the maze of trees, pursuing the escaped centaurs. They moved through air, trees, and dirt with equal ease. It took little time for them to catch sight of the newly minted refugees.
Abathur concentrated the teralings at the centaurs' escape path. With a wild screech, they leapt down, slashing with their fangs. They were met with a wall of arrows launched from the centaurs' bows. The stone arrow tips were deflected, but the momentum knocked the teralings off-course. They fell to the side of the centaurs path. Another volley of arrows was launched, and this time, the teralings felt it. Arrows launched into eyes or open mouths, penetrated deep inside them, crippling the teralings if not outright killing them. The survivors attacked before the archers could launch another, and tore into the centaurs. Within minutes, the last of them had been brought down by venom and fang.
There were far fewer bodies than Abathur had expected. The centaur colony had been sizable, and the group he had just intercepted was too small, even with the decoys and the slaughter in their main dwelling. There should be more here unless... this was another decoy. They'd pulled the same tactic twice! Oh, this was excellent. Eliminating these centaurs would be very productive.
(Transition)
For some reason, Luna had decided that Abathur needed to learn about all the creatures she and her father chased after in their spare time.
"And that's all we know about the Crumple-horned Snorkack for now, but I'm sure once we find them, we can learn so much more!" Luna said excitedly. She had been telling him about many of the creatures her and her progenitor had been searching for, many of which Abathur found fascinating.
"Interesting," Abathur said. He meant it. The creature may not have essence immediately useful to him, but the fact that it had remained hidden for so long meant it worth at least a glance. "Have heard of similarly elusive creatures. Very difficult to find."
"Really? Like what?" Luna asked, her interest peaked. Abathur felt nothing but genuine curiosity.
"Zerg Swarm."
Despite his own countermeasures, every single stress-related neuron started firing in Abathur's head the instant he said those two, fatal words. In the wrong scenario, those words would get him killed.
Luna, oblivious to this, asked, "What's that?"
Abathur forced down his anxiety. This test was essential; the potential reward was far greater than the risk. "Hive mind. Collective consciousness. Share mind, purpose. Adapts to needs of leader."
"So there's no individuals?" Luna asked.
"No. Certain members, important. Sentient. Broodmothers, cerebrates, evolution master. Also command swarm, serve leader," Abathur replied.
"What's the difference between them?" Luna seemed to be mildly interested, but not particularly invested. Better than attempting to kill him.
"Cerebrate, Broodmothers, military leaders. Control armies, direct growth. Numerous. Evolution master, unique. Brood of one. Serves to evolve swarm."
` "What do you mean, evolve? How do they do that?" Luna asked.
"Take in essence. Contained within creatures, consumed and applied elsewhere. Modified to fulfill purpose. Constant adaptation," Abathur explained.
Luna considered this for a moment. Abathur could almost see the wheels turning in her head. All of a sudden, her eyes locked onto Abathur, and her mind became filled with a sensation of dawning realization. He almost panicked then and there. Then, Luna spoke.
"Does that mean if they find a crumple-horned snorkack, they could make infinite snorkacks?" Luna asked, eyes wide.
That did not go where he expected. "Possibly...?" Abathur said, hesitantly.
If Abathur wasn't sure it was completely impossible, he would have sworn Luna's eyes were sparkling. "Abathur, you know what this means, right?"
"...Unclear," Abathur said.
"We have to find the snorkacks, then the Zerg, and make an army of snorkacks and conquer the Ministry. We'll stop their heliopath army right in its tracks!" Luna exclaimed.
This was far beyond Abathur's expectations. Luna was taking the idea of the Swarm with enthusiasm, already coming up with military applications of other creatures, plans to assimilate them, and possible uses. She really was the ideal candidate for infestation.
Brood queen: One day, Elizabeth was feeling a bit...broody. So her friend Hezebetha called her, "Elizabeth, Brood Queen of the British Isles." Now, she's just referred to as the "Brood Queen," despite not being all that broody, on a normal day. Or even a queen. She's literally just some random chick named Elizabeth. She's not even British, but her friend has a really weird sense of humor, and the name stuck. ~f
(Like a fungal growth, which conveniently leads us into actual brood queens)
How convenient indeed. I was definitely leading us there on purpose, and I also know what a Brood Queen is. Totally. ~f
Brood Queen: To one familiar with the current incarnation of the Zerg Swarm, the brood queen, sometimes simply called the queen, would appear to possess a mixture of different abilities from many varying strains. In fact, the brood queen is the predecessor to many of those strains. A versatile flying support strain, the brood queen is capable of unleashing hell on the Swarm's enemies. Among its wide arsenal is the ability to spawn a pair of broodlings, an ability eventually given to the brood lord. A brood queen can also ensnare enemies, slowing and revealing all opponents in a moderate radius, an ability that eventually became the fungal growth of the infestor. Brood queens also served as the Swarm's chief infestors, commonly taking over terran command centers on the battlefield, enslaving them to the Swarm's will. Brood queens produce creep tumors and ocular symbiotes, which latch onto their targets, and allows the swarm to see through their eyes. Brood queens were eventually modified into the modern, land-based queens, which are in the role of caring for and defending hatcheries. The only remaining brood queens are in the service of the infested admiral Alexei Stukov, or aimlessly wandering in feral broods.