Chapter 4: "Does the entire constellation pulse with this desire?"
"Did you say… mate?"
The question stumbled out of me in bewildered disbelief, my voice a mixture of incredulity and mounting confusion. Why the fuck would this colossal, alien, chitinous monstrosity—this apex predator of insectoid nightmare—want to mate with me? Did it not occur to this six-limbed enigma that we were different species? That I, the pathetic little sapling newly sprouted from the cosmic womb, was barely a day old in this strange and brutal new skin? The thought of voicing this, of demanding clarity, barely crossed my lips before the creature emitted an ear-splitting, high-pitched screech that vibrated through the air like a tuning fork struck by madness. Then, it declared with strange urgency:
"Forgive this one, little spawn! The ritual of courtship is yet unperformed. You must watch this one's dance."
Intrigued, if only because survival apparently depended on compliance, I forced my gaze upon the alien spectacle. The towering monstrosity took a step back, its many-jointed limbs bending in impossible angles, hunching down with predatory grace. Then it began to shake its abdomen violently, a shuddering, trembling gyration that pushed its elongated neck in and out with dizzying speed—up, down, and again, in a rhythmic, hypnotic staccato.
To any member of this bugged-out species, I assumed this dance was as arousing as a siren's call, a raw expression of lust and primal intent. To me, however, it was just bizarre. Utterly and confusingly alien.
As the "buggy lap dance" continued unabated, a sudden mental jolt shot through my brain—a crackling spark of realization illuminating the fog of my panic. This must be my boon, I thought, locking onto the glowing psionic link between us. No mere coincidence could conjure this scene of warped affection and strangeness. It had to be the boon's work—this incomprehensible connection, the bond that forced the apex predator's instincts to contort towards me, its would-be snack, with something strangely like tenderness.
"What luck," I muttered inwardly, teetering between terror and baffled awe. But was it good luck? Or the kind that fucks you over slowly and inevitably?
My eyes stayed glued to the shaking lower body thrusting inches from my face, bobbing up and down like some grotesque metronome. I swallowed hard and decided the time had come to extract myself from this bug's courtship chamber.
"Ex-excuse me," I stammered, voice trembling with equal parts politeness and urgency, "While I truly enjoyed your... err... dance, I'd very much like to leave this bin. Could you, uh, help me?"
In an instant, the towering alien twisted with terrifying speed and shoved its massive, grotesque head mere centimeters from my own face. Its mandibles clicked softly, and I felt the vibrations through the air like a primal challenge.
"Does this mean you accept this one's courtship dance?" it demanded, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light, radiating an unsettling mixture of hope and expectation.
My blood ran cold at the rapidity of this transition—from dance to intimate confrontation in a blink—but I squared my shoulders and spoke honestly.
"As much as I'd like to say yes, this isn't how my species courts," I said carefully. "There's usually a... what we call... a 'getting to know you' period first. Secondly, I'm only a day old. My species doesn't even reach mating readiness until sixteen years—"
I paused, caught mid-explanation, as a wave of strange, raw sensations flooded my mind. Though this alien creature might not understand the nuances of my feelings, I could read theirs now, thanks to the glowing second half of my boon: pragma, eros, mania — longstanding, passionate, obsessive love. The stark reality hit me: even if I said no, this creature wouldn't care. It would take me away regardless, guard me fiercely, maybe imprison me somewhere to wait until it could forcibly mate with me.
So, with a shaky breath, I finished:
"However, if you can wait until then, I will accept your courtship ritual."
The freethinker variant #1700354 stood still for a moment, processing. It had succeeded. Its first dance had been accepted. A sweet, almost tangible pheromone of triumph drifted into the air, rippling through the hive like a pulse—especially stirring the queen's vast consciousness.
"This is most acceptable, mate-spawn. Now, let us get you out of that pit—"
"Wait!" I interrupted, suddenly panicked. "Your scythes... you can't exactly pick me up with those! You might—"
"No need for worry, mate-spawn," it replied with a calmness that belied its terrifying size. "This one will summon the silk drones. They shall craft a pouch for you on this one's thorax."
At that moment, two smaller bugs about my own size scrambled up the massive predator's carapace. Compared to their five-meter queen, they were insignificant—ant-like, lacking discernible heads but sporting tiny mandibles that clicked incessantly. "These drones are primarily for nesting safety, ensuring egg chambers remain inviolate," my mate explained, "but they also scavenge biomass remnants left behind by the main swarm's battles. They will make you comfortable."
One of the drones jumped off and began extruding fine gossamer threads over my body, weaving a cocoon that was surprisingly dry, soft, and not sticky in the least. I realized then there was zero chance these bugs would ever intentionally harm me. My panic ebbed, replaced by a curious acceptance.
When finished, they gently swaddled me and lifted me out of the dank bin, securing me snugly into a makeshift papoose on the giant's thorax.
"Surprisingly comfortable," I remarked with faint amusement. "Thank you."
"No thanks necessary," my freethinker mate responded, voice brimming with something like warmth. "The hive will do all it can for you, mate-spawn."
Emerging from the alley, the street beyond was a grisly tableau of war. Corpses of bugs and humans alike lay scattered in grotesque mosaics—blood, ichor, and unidentifiable bodily fluids congealed into the cracked pavement. The stench was overpowering.
I paused, drawing breath. Maybe my years in a brutal gaming world had desensitized me, but this carnage was still a raw slap in the face. "Though the smell... ugh."
My new, towering protector felt my revulsion through our link and attempted reassurance in its own alien way.
"Do not worry, little mate-spawn. All this biomass will be repurposed — turned into food and forged into new warriors. Nothing wasted. All is transformation."
"Yeah, great, but can we get away? The smell's making me queasy."
"Of course," it replied, pivoting away from the distant fighting with an elegance that belied its monstrous frame.
As we moved, a swarm of questions swirled through my mind, needing answers like air.
"So, you say you are part of a hivemind?" I ventured cautiously, "But you don't seem very 'hivemindy' to me. You act more like... an individual."
"Yes," it answered plainly. "This one is but a limb of the great hive. However, this one is a freethinker variant — designed to aid the queen brain by commanding drones, issuing orders with autonomy. We remain connected to the queen, and she may take over us as she pleases, for we are still hers."
"Then what does your queen think about one of her 'limbs' wanting to mate with an alien species?" I pressed, genuinely baffled. "If you're essentially her, how can you court me on your own?"
The freethinker cocked its head, confusion etching every exoskeletal ridge.
"I do not understand, mate-spawn. You have agreed to courtship; preparations are already underway at the nest world for your arrival."
I stared upward, awe blooming in my chest. The pieces clicked, and a chilling thought crystallized in my mind: Did my boon affect the entire hive?