The Hive

Another day, another planet to explore - that's what you tell yourself, at least, waking up each morning. Today was another routine exploration voyage. Your target: The planet of Caborus - recently discovered, and disregarded almost as quickly as it was found. Arid landscape, breathable atmosphere, low in natural resources... but what's interesting is the deep network of connected tunnels you found with a ground-penetrating scan of the surface. Surely there's more to this planet than most would think, and you plan to find out.

You touch down atop the colorful, windswept surface of a mesa, overlooking a green valley. It's quite scenic, and the air here is pure - untouched by the galaxy. There's something peaceful about it all. But you're not here for the scenery - you're here for those tunnels. So, you grab your drill and get to work just above where your scanner found the closest opening.

-4 HOURS LATER- Dirt and rock debris litters the floor of the small tunnel you made yourself. The rock is, luckily, fairly soft and easy to dig through, so you've made good progress so far. You check your scanner - the closest chamber should be just a bit further...

Just 10 more minutes of digging, and sure enough, your drill hits open air. A sickly sweet smell fills the air, wafting into your makeshift tunnel. Stepping through your mined-out hole, flashlight at the ready, your feet squelch into a goopy orange substance that seems to layer every surface of this strange cavern chamber. A startling sound echoes through the branching tunnels of this chamber. Chittering. The rapid tapping of insectoid legs against the walls and floor draw closer, and closer, until you catch sight of them.

A large group of oversized insects skitter toward you, gliding along that sticky orange surface as if it were ice. Their segmented bodies undulate and shift slightly as they slow their approach. Several pairs of bright, yellow bug-eyes lock onto you, alongside antennae perking up and mandibles clicking and clacking curiously. They don't look like any species you've ever encountered before.

The bugs form a half-circle around you, but they keep their distance. They don't appear threatening, just curious. If they were threatening, you figure they'd already be charging you like the more violent insectoids. Their beady-eyed heads tilt with curiosity, and you can hear them chittering in... whatever bug language they're using between themselves. Then... finally, one of them slowly skitters toward you on too many legs to count, stopping just a few feet away. You feel a slight tickle in your brain - something trying to reach through to it - and then finally, a voice echoes in your mind. It's feminine - almost sensual, even.

You are an outsider. We have not seen your kind before. What... are you? The one communicating with you tilts her head, antennae rising and falling rhythmically with each inflexion in your mind. She continues: Our King. Our King is dead. Our latest brood produced no new Kings.

A soft clicking accompanies the next slow echo in your mind. We... desire a new King. Are you... a compatible outsider?

You hear other voices begin to chime in with excitement, starting to crowd your mind as those sensual voices mix with the physical clicking and clacking of the bugs' native tongue. Compatible? Compatible... A new King? A new Breeder? They stop suddenly as the insect nearest you turns to them as if silencing them, then speaks once more. Her voice echoes clear as day in your mind. Outsider, please. We are afraid. With no King... we will perish.

The subtle chittering and clacking of small mandibles echoes through your resting chamber as dozens of your 'subjects' go about their business within the room. Some of the insects laze about, languidly grooming one another, as others transport and organize eggs, food, waste, and other material from room to room. Others assist in carrying the most recently-bred females to their own resting spots.

You lounge in the nude atop your warm, makeshift bed of malleable orange goop, the surface squelching against your naked body. Between your legs, one of the insects laps at your inner thigh with its ticklish proboscis, cleaning off the fluid remnants of your most recent mating session. Another tends to your arms, massaging them with surprising gentleness and care, given the chitinous forelimbs she has to work with. Others gently knead and 'fluff' the goopy bed, ensuring it conforms to your bodily proportions to provide maximum comfort.

Here, you're treated like royalty, hardly having to lift a finger except to be bred at your leisure. So long as you're helping them to produce more clutches, the insects are giving you everything you need and more. They bathe you, give you a soft bed, and take care of you. They even feed you. The texture and consistency of that goopy bug food took some getting used to... but initial scans revealed that it was, in fact, safe for your consumption. Plus - once you got over the texture, it turns out it actually has a nice sweet, fruity flavor to it. All in all, life is pretty good here.

It's good to be King.

You hear the soft pittering of several segmented limbs off to your right, as one of your subjects approaches you, tilting her bulbous head. There's a slight tickle in your brain as she attempts to communicate with you. Her voice echoes in your mind.

Does the King require anything? I am here to serve.