in his chest, longing for something he could not ever achieve, he
now felt nothing. There was nothing to long for. The hive was dead.
He had killed it.
There was nothing he could ever do to change that. Nothing he
could do to reconcile himself. There was no hive to reconcile with.
With a feeling of unfathomable void within himself, Peron left
the hive and the living statues that now inhabited it. He never
returned.
❖
There had been other humans here. Peron found towns that
dwarfed the settlement he had previously inhabited. These cities, as
they were called, lay dead. Peron initially thought this the work of
the hive, but footage found in the local eggs revealed a darker truth.
The dark, metal figures from before. Small, orange creatures that
looked awfully like the fluffy creatures that Peron saw fly and nest
around the ruins. Armies of them, descending upon the humans and
slaughtering them. In this city, only the surveillance footage of
hidden cameras witnessed the slaughter. It was over seconds after
the first human screamed. In some, they fought back. But these were
not warriors. They were soft. They were fleshy, weak humans. For
all their individuality, their free will, their intelligence that had so
enamoured them to Peron – they died like vermin. There was little
difference between the Glerans dying by slumping over from
starvation, and the humans dying from blood spraying from their
bodies. The humans screamed. The Glerans did nothing. But it had
the same result. Both died. There was nothing either could do.
Eventually, Peron reached a boundless horizon of cold wet. He
sat down, crossing his legs and gazed out – across the edge of this
world.
This was the end…
A dot appeared in the setting sun. A black speck, growing in the
orb of crimson.
It approached, becoming larger and more detailed.
Peron had only seen them in videos – a space ship. A white and
blue metal marvel speeding across the cold wet, leaving streaks and
making waves.
With a sudden jolt, the space ship stopped at the shore, its nose
facing him. He blinked interchangeably with his six eyes. The ship
lowered itself, sending the cold wet below vibrating. It stopped
upon the surface, as the front opened and a ramp extended.
A human exited. He wore a blue jacket over an impressive belly.
His short beard and longer hair were both a reddish-brown. Peron
did not stand. He just watched him as he approached.
The human smiled. Peron noted that the man was carrying a gun
at his side. Guns were rare on Vulzthan, but Peron knew about them
from videos.
“I am Captain Edmund Rex. Can I confirm that I am indeed the
first human to make contact on this planet?”
Before Peron could respond, Edmund’s face went red and he
covered it with his hand.
“What by Terra am I saying? If this is a first contact, you’d not
be able to understand me.”
“I understand you,” Peron responded.
Edmund’s eyes lit up, but then went dull.
“Oh, so I’m not the first human here…”
“No. But you are the only human I’ve seen here.”
“Um…how then do you know…never mind, probably Exanoid
traders or whatever. Actually – what are you, anyway? You an
Enque?”
Peron shook his head.
“Can’t be a Gleran,” Edmund muttered to himself, trying to
figure things out. “Glerans can’t talk.”
“You know about Glerans?”
“This and that. Lots of them on the Fringe. The traders make
deals with Queens and ship them across the galaxy to spread their
reach. The hives tend to keep to themselves. Why? Don’t tell me
you’re some sort of mutant Gleran.”
“I’m not a Gleran,” Peron answered, honestly.
“What are you then?”
Peron paused, thinking. He leant his chin on his on fist to
support it. Finally, he looked up.
“I’m Peron. And I’m a Thinker.”
“Must be stressful…”
Peron’s look of incredulity signalled Edmund to explain.
“Thinkin’. Like, I think sometimes, but I’m not expected to do it
all the time. I gotta take a break. But if you a thinker, that’s all you
do. Not meaning anything bad by it. Different strokes for different
folks.”
Peron was silent and then answered, completely sincerely.
“I like thinking.”
Edmund smiled.
“Always good to like what you doin’… hey, I got an idea. I’m
not much of a thinker myself. My ship is big and as empty as my
noggin. This planet has had first contact already. So gonna need to
think about where to go next. But I’m not that good at thinkin’, you
see. So, maybe, you want to tag along?”
Peron didn’t respond for a little while. Edmund waited, the salty
wind pushing around his long hair. Peron blinked the salt away.
“I’d like that.”
Edmund grinned. “That’s great! Well, no point waiting around.
Let’s go!”
Note from the Author
It is said that you should write what you know. The great
limitation of that advice is pretty clear. If Tolkien had written about
what he had known and experienced, we wouldn’t have had a
Middle Earth of elves, orcs, dark lords, magic rings and countless
other fantasy themes that we take for granted today. As interesting
as it may have been by itself, I think we are all thankful that we
received Lord of the Rings rather than just a story about Tolkien’s
life as a linguist and English professor.
In my own writing, I have also diverted from this creed of writing
what you know. I’m not going to pretend that it is due to some vastly
superior creativity, however. I might not be writing about my
explicit experiences, but I am writing about something I know –
usually.
Even when writing from the perspective of aliens, there is always
something distinctly human about them. They either exemplify a
human trait, like a propensity for commerce (like the Exanoids), or
the confusion of an individual. When writing from the perspective
of Edals (like Re’lien) or Zangorians (like Leri), I can always base
them in something human. Because they basically are.
When writing Hive Mind, I initially wanted to avoid basing the
Glerans on anything human. They are ants. They are bees. They are
insects – the most inhuman thing that you can be. But, despite my
efforts to achieve the impossible, I do feel that I humanised Peron.
This is seen in Peron’s affinity for the humans he has never met.
This highlights his alien-ness through his desperation to belong to
something. As well as wanting to belong, Peron also strives for an
ideology of individualism. This duality of desire is probably Peron’s
most human trait.
All of us have held twin desires sometime in our lives. We’ve had
to choose. Sometimes, we can’t even do that. Other times, we make
a choice and fail to achieve e
ither. Peron wanted to belong and
wanted to be alone in his belonging. Instead, he could never belong
– but neither is he alone anymore.
For those wanting to know what happened to Peron between
now and his escapades with Leri nuro Zeruit in the main series, I
may write more about him. Peron is old. A lot older than we think.
He has seen a lot and has thought a lot.
I’m not going to say what he did in that time. Maybe because I
don’t even know, and I can only write what I know. What I do hope
is that, for at least a time, he found some sense of belonging – as
impossible as that may be. But while he may never have his family
ever again – he did find a friend. And that is worth all the hives on
the Fringe.
I hope you enjoyed Hive Mind. Don’t stop reading now!
You can meet Peron again in the rest of the Warpmancer
Series.
Start your journey now with Shadow, the first book in the Warpmancer Series.
Copyright © 2017
Warpmancer Universe
All rights reserved
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real persons, living or
dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a
retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means
electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise
without the prior written permission of the publisher and the
copyright owner.
Hive Mind Page 4