>>6133413Your mind jolts, and beneath a layer of damaged memories is an old pattern carved not into any conscious record, but your very cells. The rhythms and steps to eatablishing a Hatchery. First you will need a Larvae to begin the process.
Your eyes scan over the chamber as your mind reaches outward. Your mind brushes against something small, dim and quiet enough you hadn't noticed it before in the chamber wall. Stepping across the dried sediment that had once been thriving creep, in a dessicated Hatchery-Organ, is a trio of dying LARVAE nestled into a hidden pocket of moisture. With a violent tear, you wrench open the organ in a cloud of dust and retrieve them.
In your grasp, the half-mummified things begins to writhe, a dusty, small chittering sounding out. This thing you hold is not born, but directly manufactured from the workings of a healthy Hatchery. The unnatural, spined grubs would never mature on their own, but as a living codex of genetic information, you could will it to Morph into any Zerg Organism beneath a Queen.
It wasn't like remembering, it was like the memories were surfacing from somewhere else. And as they had done so you had departed the Tomb. Tearing your way through a sagging sphincter-seal, you step from your grave, and into a graveyard.
The silence of the tomb was replaced with the howling of wind and immediately you are buffeted with ash and cutting dust, scratches blooming across your carapace. Your eyes, safe behind a protective membrane, peer across the broken land. Megastructures are warped, uniformly, bent from the heat and blast wave of an apocalyptic explosion. The land beneath them is a maze of dust dunes and half-submerged ruins, stilled chaos underneath the uniform wailing of the winds. Your body samples the dead, dry, air.
No obvious indication of where biomass or other resources your Hatchery will need from any of the visible landmarks. Searching for a while, you eventually pick out a few landmarks that might at least get you out of the Storm. The Larvae practically whimper in your clutches.
>Aloof from the chaos around it, awire-tangled and bulbous building sits near the center of the visible wastes. Sitting in a mess of its own toppled radio-towers, its squatting over a tangle of rail-tracks and the dull metallic sheen of ore can be seen in the rail-bound buckets.>The bulging shape of a Biodome, sheltered by the dead leviathan-shape of a toppled tower sits at the far edge of the visible district. Nestled into the rubble, it is only easily approachable from the Air.>Like a wound in the hillside, devastation has opened a yawning hole into the cities under-workings. Massive pipes splay outward like frayed wires, creating a form of "cave entrance" 