[We]
Lore SnippetsThe concept of 'pollution' is somewhat foreign to [We]. Regalis was a bit of a dump long before the Hivers industrialised- life had adapted to high levels of background radiation, contaminated water, and localised atmospheric systems that could become chock-full of noxious gasses whenever the local volcano erupted. So when the Hivers started building smokestacks, pumping out sewage, and eventually dumping radioactive waste, the local flora and fauna just rolled with it. Now, centuries later, the planet is worse off, but primarily due to the bombardment it suffered at the hands of the [Invaders]. Bear this in mind before you judge the efforts of [We] to establish industries on other planets. Sure, they pump out toxic waste in vast quantities, unfiltered, with no regard or concern for where it goes, but from a Hiver's perspective, the environment should be able to handle such things.
Contact with the [Queenless Singers] and [Mute Bipeds] has caused some consternation in Hiver society. Clearly, their civilisations (in so far as one can call their primitive attempts at society such) are inferior to [Ours], and much like the [Invaders], they will be crushed by [Our] collective might. However, it must be acknowledged that they have managed to put up a fight. This has led some to question whether [We] are superior to [Them]. Aforementioned questioners have been dealt with, of course, but it highlights that even today, there can exist division within [We]- not to a scale that could ever seriously threaten us, but it does require resources to be dedicated to stamping it out that could be better spent on the war effort.
On Regalis, access to sunlight is a luxury. There are only so many canyons, yet there are so many more Hivers. As a result, there is a class of colony that never sees daylight, but are situated deep within the earth, where they extract minerals for trade with other colonies, and get their water from the underground seas. They are known as the [Deep], and they are a somewhat maligned group- second class colonies, as it were. Few of their number contributed much to our early ventures into space, except as a source of resources.
The concept of a 'computer' (a number-crunching device that is capable of executing arbitrary code) was a relatively recent invention in Hiver society, coming much later in their technological development than is typical. The reason for this is simple; why calculate something using a piece of machinery, when you have so much spare mental capacity amongst the drones in the hive that could do it instead? As society advanced the amount of calculations that had to be performed increased exponentially, of course, and eventually it became necessary to develop mechanical means of performing some of the most rote tasks.
There is a mold that grows in deep spaces- dark places in the earth that are well hidden away from the sun and the elements. If a young hiver, carapace not yet fully formed to protect them from the harsh light, were to be infected with this mold through their too-soft carapace it would grow inside them and fester. While they might walk and act as a healthy unit, they would carry bomb inside them that would one day erupt and hurt others.
The Relentless, and its engineers, are like that mold infected youngling. It matters not whether the youngling be drone, prince, or princess, they must be [excised] for the good of the hive. Better to replace a dozen now than ten thousand in a year.
On DeathHivers are living beings, and as such, following the immutable laws of biology that seem to permeate the entire universe, Hivers die. Death may be universal, but the reactions to it are not, and the Hivers have unusual attitudes towards death, befitting their unusual nature.
Drones are barely considered alive to begin with. Their lives are valued above those of animals (a category that includes all non-psionic life in the universe, including other species that might consider themselves sapient), but far below those of the higher castes. For a drone to sacrifice its life in pursuit of its duty is not considered a noble act, but is taken for granted as just something drones do. Indeed, the Hiver 'language' has no way of saying "A drone died"- the closest equivalent is "[drone->cease]", which would also be used to refer to a drone that has stopped working. The corpse of a drone (or even living drones, if they are surplus and consuming resources that could better be used elsewhere) is just recycled into protein slurry to feed other drones, a process which to the Hivers seems entirely natural- even the drones about to jump into the meat grinders would be confused if one suggested there was anything wrong about this.
In the case of princes, death is uncommon. A far more common 'final' fate is [termination]. This occurs when their Queen determines that they have failed the Colony in some way, be it through heresy (or thoughts thereof), or simple incompetence. The Queen will forcibly sever the prince's connection to the psionic network, by sending them a pulse that burns out their psionic organ. This renders the prince all but entirely dumb and deaf, as well as half blind. Once a prince has been [terminated], they are a non-entity; an animal, by Hiver standards.
Most princes respond to [termination] by killing themselves- those who retain some loyalty to the Colony having the decency to make their way to a recycling centre first. A rare few will refuse to die, however. They skulk about the Colony, stealing food where they can- a dangerous endeavour, as warrior drones see them as intruding wild animals, and will duly hunt them down should they be caught harming the Colony. Some flee into the wild, and attempt to survive on their own- a monumental feat for an individual Hiver, but one that especially hardy princes sometimes manage. Hunter drones sometimes return from expeditions with such a 'wild prince' amongst their catch (who are thrown into the meat grinders with all the other prey).
Of note, only princes who are connected to the Queen's psionic network can be [terminated]; those belonging to other Colonies, or rebels who have severed themselves, cannot be targeted.
Sometimes, a prince will actually die before failing in such a manner as to deserve [termination], be it in combat, through old age (at around 25 earth years), or as a result of breeding. These princes are honoured in [religious] ceremonies, where it is emphasised to other princes that they should emulate the success and piety of the dead prince, in the hopes that they too might die whilst connected to the psionic network, and hence ascend to the spiritual plane.
All princesses hope to be [anointed], but most will die as princesses. The average lifespan is around 60 earth years, although some princesses live much longer. Sickness is the most common cause of death, as they are usually kept out of danger- even when a princess goes to war, she will be protected by elite bodyguards, and rarely face mortal peril.
The death of a princess is considered regrettable, on a practical level, but Hivers have few emotional ties between individuals that would result in actual mourning. Particularly noteworthy princesses may be honoured by a 'funeral', of sorts, in which their noteworthy accomplishments are recounted and recorded for future generations to consider, although the body is unceremoniously recycled.
All the callousness with which death is treated for the majority of Hivers is entirely discarded when it comes to the death of a Queen. Her entire Colony can feel her passing, and will suffer as her presence is erased from their minds- a presence that has almost certainly been with them their entire lives, around which their entire being is built. The loss can be devastating, to the point where many of her drones will die on the spot from the mental trauma.
It is fortunate, then, that Queens can feel their natural deaths coming, ensuring that the Colony has ample time to prepare for the damage, and the question of succession can be worked out in advance. Likewise, it is fortunate that Queens can have very long lifespans, sometimes over two centuries, meaning these events do not happen often.
Dead Queens are mummified, and interred in a great tomb filled with records of her achievements, and numerous relics. Not for the benefit of the departed Queen, but for the benefit of her former subjects wanting to remember her, or future Queens and princesses hoping to study their predecessor's life.
In which a Queen visits a VaultA request for more drones. A report on steel production. Test results for the latest batch of Queen's Will components. Another request for more drones. Notification of steel shortages in several sectors. A notification from an inquisitor about potential heretics. More requests for drones.
Q.2.2.1.3(...) tried to focus on the barrage of messages that had come in in the past 60 seconds. Ordinarily, this wouldn't phase her, but today she was distracted. Disconcerting reports from the distant Oscar system had reached her, along with the predictable request from the [Council] to increase production of, well, everything. It was, frankly, stressing her out. Which for a Queen of her stature was a bit of a problem, as she had no one to talk to about it. Not even princesses could understand, and other Queens were too busy with their own colonies to spare time to have a chat.
Well, no. There was someone she could talk to. Many someones, actually. Perhaps... she should visit a vault.
She staggered to her feet, and started to make her way to the doors of the throne room, her six hulking bodyguards moving with her in lockstep. The doors had already been opened by the time she reached them, and just beyond, a mag-palanquin hovered, the chauffeur prince having been summoned by her psionic command. She clambered into the vehicle, two of her bodyguards taking their positions on the exterior. One signal to the chauffeur, and the palanquin gracefully accelerated, riding smoothly along the magnetic tracks. They passed the checkpoint that separated the royal quarters from the rest of the colony, and two escort vehicles joined them, one ahead and one behind. The tunnel widened, and they joined the main thoroughfare, slipping smoothly into the dense yet incredibly rapid traffic- a benefit of every driver knowing exactly what every other driver is going to do.
As they sped along, she took the time to look around her. Obviously she could receive a report on the state of her colony from any number of sources, but there was something to be said for personal observation.
The traffic, as mentioned, was dense, and with the exception of her palanquin and escorts, consisted of vehicles that could best be described as 'practical', laden with raw materials, manufactured goods, and drones. They came in from side tunnels, then left through other side tunnels, each delivery perfectly timed and meticulously calculated. Above the traffic, the occasional bridge or catwalk, across which sped more vehicles, or scurried busy drones.
The thoroughfare passed through an industrial cavern, with many vehicles pulling off to deliver supplies to the many factories and refineries that filled the space, both horizontally and vertically. An observer less familiar with Hiver culture might consider the scene chaotic, as there appeared to be no rhyme or reason to the layout of the cavern, and the construction looked almost ramshackle- but to the Queen's trained eye, the order underlying everything was clear; she could visualise the integration of the many different industries, saw how they were laid out so as to optimise resource flow, and how each section of each building was built using the right material for that section, even if it didn't match the adjacent sections. The choking clouds of smog that filled the air was merely a sign that productivity was high, although she considered that perhaps another ventilation shaft would have to be created soon.
The traffic lessened as they left the heart of the colony behind, and they passed through barracks, where thousands of drones slumbered, grateful for the few hours of rest they received, in bunks that they shared with several other drones, to be used in shifts. The drones walking by the side of the tracks took the time to stop and make gestures of submission as she passed- seeing her was a luxury significant enough that they would waste a few seconds that could be spent resting to acknowledge her (the drones who were working had no time to spare).
After the barracks, a short stretch more tunnel, and then they were outside, riding beneath a starry night (moonless, of course, as Regalis had no moon). Despite the densely populated nature of the canyons, light pollution was not a major problem, as most Hivers could work fairly well in the dark anyway. The tracks were now elevated on pylons, passing over densely-packed greenhouses. They approached the edge of her territory, and the traffic was reduced to only a few large freighters; colonies were for the most part self-sufficient, and inter-colony travel was rare.
After about two hours (earth hours, to be clear), they neared their destination. The endless greenhouses stopped, and before them arose towers of red and gold, arranged in geometric patterns, with domed hexagonal buildings of gleaming marble between them. Unlike the majority of Hiver architecture, which valued practicality over aesthetics almost to the exclusion of the latter, [religious] construction was designed to make physically manifest the inner harmony of [We]. This particular compound was rarely visited by most Hivers, unlike the common [temples] that drones visited for [education], or the tombs of departed Queens- no, this was a place for Queens to visit, and basically no one else. There were, of course, caretakers, who greeted her as her palanquin came to a halt before the largest building and she clambered out- six princes and a princess, all making gestures of respect.
The princess sent her a query. [Query <Vault><Visitation><Intent><?>]
[Answer <Vault.3>], she replied. The princess indicated her understanding, and led the way into the building. They passed through the gilded doors, engraved with a complex pattern, almost fractal in appearance, and entered a tunnel-like corridor that led them to the centre of the building, where a (relatively) small antechamber sat. It was dimly lit by glowlamps, the primary source of lighting intended to be the glass window in the centre of the dome high above- but there were no rules that said she couldn't visit at night. Hivers hadn't much concern for the time of day.
From the antechamber radiated five doors, above each was a simple symbol, from one to five. The princess scurried up to the third door, taking a key from a belt strapped across her torso, and pressed the disc up against a corresponding slot in the door. There was the sound of machinery clicking away, then the doors rumbled open, revealing a large dark chamber beyond, barely lit by status lights on a host of machines within. The princess stepped aside to let her enter. She did so, and the doors closed behind her.
She approached the dais in the centre of the chamber, where a simple throne sat, equipped with a control panel. She sat, made herself comfortable, and tapped at the panel, causing several of the machines in the room to hum to life. She thought idly of days past, before the invention of modern psionic playback devices, when visiting a vault was a far more laborious affair, involving manual extraction from records by a host of princes- but she felt the first echoes emanate, and ceased that line of thought. Slowly at first, psionic noise began to wash over her, a meaningless mess of non-existent tags arranged in no particular order, made worse by the fact that she was listening to half a dozen [prophecies] at once. She listened diligently, hoping to catch something. Was that a- no, just noise. Perhaps that was- no, nothing.
She shut off the prophecies and tried the next six. Again, nothing. Six more, and again no luck. Of course, this was normal. There were many prophecies, and to chance upon one that related to current events was unlikely even after listening to dozens. She tried more, until there were only six left. If there was nothing amongst them, perhaps she would visit one of the other vaults. A younger one might be more likely to contain something relevant. She keyed in the final six.
Nothing. Of course. Perhaps interstellar events were beyond the ability of even Queens to predict? Could it be that [We] were never meant to leave this solar system? Surely not. Fate would not be so cruel, after they had come so far. She found herself unconsciously sending her own thoughts outwards, to mingle with the psionic symphony, at the very least unburdening herself of all her worries (the Vault would contain the psionic messages, preventing those outside from hearing her unbecoming self-pity).
Wait. She heard something. In response to her thoughts of the battles at Oscar, she thought she heard a 'reply'. Very faint. Almost not there- certainly, without riding the echo of her own thoughts, it would never have been heard. Confused, she looked around her. She counted the machines that were flashing as they played back their recorded messages. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
...there was no sixth machine flashing.
One by one, she shut off the machines, watching as their flashing faded, until she found the one that didn't respond. When only it was 'active', she could still hear the faint echo. She looked around carefully.
And there, in a distant corner of the chamber, one of the machines was showing faint signs of activity. She clambered out of the throne, and made her way over to it. It was an older model of recorder; evidently the caretakers had not gotten around to transferring the record onto a newer machine. It clearly had not been maintained properly- an oversight for which the caretakers would be punished, but for now, she was more interested in the contents.
She considered the device. She had no first-hand knowledge of their operation, had never had cause to investigate one closely- but that wouldn't stop her. Carefully, she pried open the access panel. Within was a mess of circuitry, and a large psimat disc. Her eyes scanned the wiring for a few moments, and then she spotted it- a wire, deep within, that had been plugged in to the wrong port. She would've rolled her eyes if she could at the stupidity of whoever last maintained this machine, that they couldn't spot such a glaring flaw. Of course, she didn't have the dexterity to reach in and fix the issue, nor did she want to go to the effort of calling for the caretakers. Instead, she reached in and carefully lifted the psimat disc from its socket.
Held before her, she sent psionic energy into the disc directly, a little at first, then more, until she started to receive feedback. With direct physical contact, the message was much clearer-
She was whisked away, out of the temple, into the sky, across the stars, to a distant sun she supposed must be that of the Oscar system. There, she saw the Hiver and Human fleets fighting in slow motion. Some of the details were a little vague, but the important things were clear. She saw with perfect clarity how the Gaian fighters opened boreholes to adjust their heading instantly, and understood immediately what weaknesses the tactic had, as if she had considered the problem for weeks on end. Then she saw the Gaian cruiser opening defensive bores, noting their attempt to redirect incoming fire, calculating their chances of successfully doing so, and possible countermeasures. She saw how the Sunbeam disrupted their boreholes, the relevant physics coming to her in an instant- the range of the effect, duration, efficacy, and possible improvements. She also witnessed the flaws in the Hiver fighters tactics, and was struck with insight into how these had come to pass. Finally, when the Gaians retreated, she counted the microseconds it took for them to open boreholes, and knew from that how powerful their bore drives must be.
Then, abruptly, the vision ended. She looked down, and saw that the disc had cracked, presumably overloaded by her attempts to extract as much information as possible. No matter; there would be backups in other Vaults across Regalis. She made a note of the [prophecy's] designation, dropped the disc on the floor, and made her way out of the chamber. The [council] would be pleased to learn of relevant prophecy, and their fleet commanders would certainly appreciate the tactical analysis it contained. She silently thanked the Queen who had made the prophecy, many years in the past, even though they had no idea when or if it would be useful. This outing had certainly relieved some of her stress.
When the doors opened, she saw the antechamber was bathed in sunlight. She didn't think she had been in there that long; she must've been absorbed in the prophecy for much longer than it felt. The princess who had shown her in was waiting, and Q.2.2.1.3(...) felt a slight bit of satisfaction at having someone to berate for their failings; just the thing to make the day perfect.
Legend of the First VaultHivers do not have many legends. They primarily have meticulously recorded history. Yet they do have some. Foremost amongst these is a story known by almost every Queen and princess on Regalis, which despite thousands of attempts at debunking remains believed by many. It has no name, obviously, but for the sake of clarity, we shall call it the Legend of the First Vault.
Vaults are the archives in which [prophecies] are kept. There are many of them across Regalis, large and small, storing thousands of [propehecies] spoken by Queens ranging back thousands of years (although the oldest are of dubious quality, having been transcribed to new storage mediums so many times, and originally having been 'recorded' by specially bred princes who simply memorised them by rote). [Prophecies] are never discarded, for although it is unlikely that a thousand-year old [prophecy] will be relevant to modern events, it is not entirely unheard of. That said, when a [prophecy] is used, it is removed from the vault so as not to clutter them up- [prophecies] are only ever relevant once. Originally, each colony would keep its own vault, which made sense since the majority of the [prophecies] related to the colony where it was recorded (or a colony founded by a descendant thereof- when a new colony was founded, the 'mother' colony's vault would be copied to create the new colony's vault). However, in the post-[council] world, vaults are communal, as it was found after the formation of the [council] that prophecies would often be relevant to [We] as a whole, or even an entirely unrelated colony.
What, then, is the First Vault? An apocryphal structure, said to exist somewhere on Regalis, where allegedly the [prophecy] spoken by the First Queen is stored. The First Queen herself is a semi-mythical figure, supposedly the progenitor of the entire Hiver species. She is said to have lived for a thousand years, to have birthed one hundred Queens, and established many of the customs that [We] follow to this day. It stands to reason, then, that a prophecy spoken by her would be equally monumental. Whenever a truly major event happens, there are usually a few expeditions who set off on an attempt to find the First Vault, under the belief that whatever the latest happening is must surely be significant enough for the First Queen to have dedicated her [prophecy] to. When they don't find it, they console themselves by reasoning that it must not have been about their event after all, as it is unthinkable that the First Queen would have hidden her prophecy somewhere where it would not be found when it was needed.
Despite the advent of satellite imaging, submarines, depth sounding, the belief remains that the First Vault is just waiting to be found at the right time. There are, after all, depths of the subterranean seas that have not been explored, cave networks which have not been meticulously charted- there are even some who theorise that the First Vault is 'cloaked' in some fashion, hiding in plain sight.
It generally goes unquestioned as to how a psionic record could survive for tens of thousands of years without maintenance.
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