>>6133546Your mind slams into the Overlord, and for a moment you feel the seething chaos. It riots and spits in your psychic grip, an animal in a trap. The Zerg beneath hiss in agitation.
With the merest exertion of effort, you crush its resistance. An instant of relief from the tortured mind is drowned out in your own pleasure. As the Overlords consciousness recedes, it's psionic net becomes your own. Your whole world expands, and the psionic resonance of your new possessions finally chases away the worst of the quiet. Your mind touches theirs and you tower over them.
You order them into your escort and even with the lot of you wounded, the feeling of being surrounded by Zerg, of being in control, is incomparable.
Triumphant, you continue to the Biodome. As expected, it is day before you finish clambering across the ruins. Your new Overlord rises with the dawn,
Its vision filling in your mental map of the ruins. Finally, you breach the threshold of the dome.
It is barren, burnt, metal skeletons outline where plants grew, once. But your senses inform you: there is viable biomass nearby, but partially sealed off.
With a sense of giddyness, you single out a larvae. You reach into its tiny mind, into its very cells, and upset a particular balance. A spark of excitement is felt for a moment, as its body begins to sweat off ooze and shudder. Substituting the slime from creep with your own enzyme-laced spit, the larvae spins itself into a bulging egg.
Within moments it is too big to hold, and it thrashes as the larvae inside takes itself apart, allowing the bizarre reactions within to re-make it into what you willed.
Leaving the egg in the center of the scorched dome, you watch eagerly as the shell of the egg darkens and cracks. Caught up in the moment, you reach into the Drone the moment it breaches the shell, and once again feed it a single directive as you lift one of many mental-blockers, and once more the Zerg shudders and oozes, it's flesh drips as it's chitin softens, and for an instant it looks like the drone will melt entirely.
Bones work the sagging tent into a shape like a boil on the floor, and some skeletal half-drone can then be seen, working on globule shapes in the swirling muck within. It is happening, your Hatchery is forming-
The moment is spoiled by pain between your ears. Your vision blurs for a second and you are suddenly aware of a fizzing electro-magnetic disturbance, gone as soon as it came. A murky thought makes its way to you from deep within. The sensation becomes familiar as it passes. It means someone is scanning you.
The slime-tent had doubled its size several times over as you recover, and you stand arms open before it expectantly. Suddenly a bony crown pierces the top of the writhing sack and you are bathed in a wave of spent amniotic fluid as the whole thing sloughs away. Wet, turgid, proud. Your Hatchery is finally here.
>The pre-mind of the Hatchery reaches out- what do you will of it? 