The Swarm (standard:science fiction, 2143 words)
Author: Gavin J. Carr	Added: May 17 2005	Views/Reads: 3791/2500	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The Swarm - biological killing machines that will stop at nothing to conquer the universe.

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fields.  As he watched, they ejected an inky blast of smoke that rolled 
tumultuously towards the palace, obscuring the Swarm as they 
disembarked and rushed headlong at the gate. 

Through the rolling smoke he could make out grey armoured environment
suits and the odd flash of a laser.  They were so fast!  Double the 
speed of his own people.  He wondered if the rumours were true.  That 
the Swarm were warm-blooded, made their own heat.  They bounded over 
the fields as though gravity meant nothing, indeed to them, raised on a 
much larger planet than this one, it did mean nothing. 

We're done for, he thought.  It was foolish not to give in to their
demands.  No one stood in the way of the Seraph Empire, better to 
surrender and be slaves.  He looked at his family crest, emblazoned 
high up on the stone walls and felt shame wash over him.  Two thousand 
years of rule.  Wars fought, enemies conquered, famines and crisises – 
his family had ruled this planet through all of it and survived to 
strengthen their grasp.  Today it ends.  But not without a fight, he 
vowed, not while there is still breath in my body. 

The screaming began.  The Swarm had reached the gate and the workers
scattered.  They opened fire on the civilians, drew short sabres and 
hacked at women and children, slaughtering all in their path. 

‘Brutes!' he screamed.  ‘Murderers!' 

‘You're absolutely right.' 

He spun round at the sound of the voice, baring his fangs, tail rattling
a deadly warning.  A Seraph stood in front of him smiling benignly. 

Torok coiled back and readied himself to spring.  He might not stand a
chance against a Swarm Commando, but the Seraph were a different 
prospect.  They were tall, almost seven feet, but thin and delicately 
built, their bones hollow and easily broken.  Their home world was 
tiny, smaller than his own, the gravity extremely weak, enabling the 
Seraph to glide through the air on the massive wings which sprouted 
from their backs.  It would be an easy kill...he stopped, a sudden 
thought in his mind.  How could a Seraph be here, on this planet?  The 
gravity would be too much, would crush their bones like an anvil 
crushing an egg. 

He tasted the air and found that the Seraph was not there.  He was a
projection – a mere hologram. 

The Seraph laughed.  ‘I see you've come to your senses,' he said.  ‘Why
waste your energy on an illusion?' 

Torok hissed.  ‘Have you come to gloat, killer?  Come to see what you're
barbarians are doing to my world?' 

The Seraph shook his head.  ‘I've come to give you one final chance,
Torok.  Your world is finished, it belongs to us now.  All that remains 
is for The Swarm to mop-up the pockets of resistance.  I'd much rather 
you gave out the call to surrender, it would save us the trouble.' 

It was Torok's turn to laugh, a short hiss, like escaping gas.  ‘Save
you the trouble,' he said.  ‘Why would I want to save you the trouble?' 
 He slithered closer to the hologram and fixed it with a stare.  ‘If 
this world is yours, why ask me at all?  Why not just take it?  Perhaps 
your precious Swarm isn't as invulnerable as we're led to believe, eh?  
Maybe you are frightened we can make a stand?' 

The Seraph shook his head sadly and pointed to the balcony.  ‘Have you
seen outside, Torok?  What awaits you out there?  You have no concept 
of what you are up against, do you?  Then, I shall tell you.  Machines, 
Torok.  Biological killing machines.' 

He glided to the balcony and looked out into the distance.  ‘They are a
credit to our scientists, Torok.'  He turned back and began to pace up 
and down the room.  ‘Imagine if you will an experiment, an experiment 
Millennia in the making.  Engineer a life-form – adaptable, 
group-orientated, aggressive, intelligent – but not too intelligent – 
and place it on a planet.  A D-class world, the very limit that can 
sustain life.  Leave them for a million years or so and what have you 
got?  The Swarm, Torok, the Swarm.  When we returned they had destroyed 
everything.  Completely dominated their environment, elimated all 
competition, every alternative life form on the planet – killed or 
enslaved.  They were on the brink of destroying themselves – we 
focussed that aggression, gave them something to fight for.' 

‘You are the brutes,' said Torok.  ‘You are the murderers!  I wonder why
they let you lead them.  Aren't you ever afraid that you've created a 
plague that they will turn on their masters and destroy you as well?' 

The Seraph grinned.  ‘The greater the risk the higher the reward.  We
have planned this from the start.  We have built in a fail safe – a 
species specific control mechanism.  They will never turn against us – 
we have infected them with religion.' 

‘Religion?' 

‘It is nothing you could ever understand.  A form of mind-control,
conditioning.  They think of us as higher beings.  They believe they 
are performing the will of the universe.'  He laughed.  ‘In a way they 
are.  Soon the universe will belong to the Seraph.  But enough of this, 
I need an answer now, Torok.  Do you agree to call a general surrender, 
or shall I let the Swarm wipe-out your entire species?' 

The palace keep shook as the gates were blown open.  There was a hoarse
shout from below as the Swarm Commandoes poured into the fortress.  He 
knew he was dead.  No matter what happened the Seraph would never let 
him live.  He looked at the family crest again before turning to the 
hologram. 

‘We will never surrender,' he said.  ‘We will fight to the end.' 

The Seraph sighed.  ‘I thought you were reasonable, Torok.  I see that I
was wrong.  You are finished.  Your death will be slow and painful.'  
The hologram flickered and then disappeared completely. 

There was a writing desk in the corner of the room, and Torok went to
it, opening a hidden drawer in the centre.  He removed a brace of 
antique duelling pistols and tucked them in his waist band, then 
returned to the drawer, lifting out a hidden microphone unit. 

‘Braggards,' he said to the room.  ‘Couldn't resist coming to gloat.' 
Time was short, but he allowed himself a smile.  First rule of 
politics, he thought – be careful what you say. 

He ejected the spool from the unit and took it to the communications
consol.  He dialled the general frequency, opening up the universal 
comms – a message that would be heard over every piece of 
communications equipment throughout the whole planet, and by the Swarm 
themselves.  He plugged the spool in and pressed play. 

* 

The Swarm Captain ran through the gates, careful to avoid the puddles of
blood that had gathered on the worn flag stones.  These demons were 
poor fighters, he thought.  He was a veteran, had served the Seraph in 
every campaign since Gadell-B, but sometimes he wished for a challenge, 
a real opponent instead of these weak muscled demons.  Still, it was 
good work they were doing.  Purifying the universe, fighting the forces 
of darkness, giving it back to the true God. 

A demon rushed towards him, fangs bared, an old-fashioned projectile
weapon in its hand.  The Captain leapt lithely towards it and jabbed 
his sabre into its chest.  Too slow, much too slow. 

He pulled the weapon free and momentarily stopped.  The two chiming
notes of the comms channel sounded in his helmet.  Urgent, message, he 
thought.  Maybe the demons have brought reinforcements.  The thought 
thrilled him – perhaps they would put up a decent fight after all! 

The voice was grainy, but unmistakably that of a Seraph.  The smooth
consonants and whispered vowels of one of their masters. 

‘...Machines, Torok.  Biological killing machines... Imagine if you will
an experiment, an experiment Millennia in the making... intelligent – 
but not too intelligent...' 

The Captain listened in disbelief.  He glanced around and saw his
comrades had stopped.  They stood motionless, enrapt by the voice and 
the revelation that it brought. 

‘...They will never turn against us – we have infected them with
religion...'  He could feel his heart pound beneath his suit.  The 
blood rushed to his face.  He grit his teeth and tightened his grip on 
the blade. 

He thought back to his training.  The punishing regime of drill and
combat.  The fallen comrades the lost friends.  All of it was bearable 
only because they were doing God's work.  The Seraph had appeared to 
them – towering angels, shimmering with unearthly light.  They were the 
chosen, they had said.  Evil had infected the universe and they had 
been picked to cleanse it.  Those who died in this great venture would 
enter heaven – see the face of God. 

Tricked!  They had been tricked!  He unfastened his helmet and threw it
to the ground.  All around him, his comrades were doing the same.  Some 
looked angry, some disbelieving, a few of them even shed tears, but all 
of them had one expression in common – the dark glint of revenge, 
shining from their eyes. 

‘It's time humans stood up for themselves,' shouted the Captain.  The
men roared in agreement and ran back to the landing craft. 

How ironic, he thought.  The angels have become the serpents and the
serpents the angels.  The craft took-off, bound for the mother ship and 
the Seraph homeworld. 

THE END 


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