Far from prying eyes, a dastardly but completely boneheaded plot was being hatched. Even after the decisive defeat of the United Galactic Nations, there were still some people who, despite clearly seeing the writing on the wall, thought that resisting the new order was in their best interest and the best interest of others. Most notably among these fools were a rag-tag paramilitary force comprised of the remnants of the old UGN leadership and those who had served them without question and with total obedience and loyalty.

This group, simply known as the Free Galaxy Resistance (FGR for short), operated more or less with the ‘secret’ backing of the few UGN nation-states that survived the war as independent entities. Of course, the nation-states that supported these de facto privateers and slavers were those who, by the grace of lady luck, had not only emerged from the previous war ‘mostly’ intact, but also had relatively high positions and seniority in the UGN membership system.

While the UGN had been utterly crushed in the war, it had not been disbanded. Instead it was merely a pale shadow of its former self, becoming a glorified gentleman’s club with no real ability to affect galaxy-wide policies. That did not stop them from trying, though. Perhaps these surviving fools believed that, due to the AGC effectively giving the UGN a white peace, the Arcadian Galactic Commonwealth did not have the ability to continue any kind of long-term engagement beyond the end of the war.

While this was far from the truth, they honestly believed that the AGC was bound to collapse at any moment. Perhaps if they had done their research, they might have seen that it was the other way around, but they didn’t so they couldn’t.

But why go into this now? The answer to that is simple.

The remaining UGN members and their paramilitary privateers in the FGR were planning an absolutely insane strategy to attempt the assassination of the God-King of Arcadia, Arkhan Aesir Arcadia himself. Even a fool would be able to look at their plan and see the massive holes in it, but apparently the ones planning and attempting to carry out said plan either could not come up with a better scheme or honestly thought they could pull it off. If it was the former, then they could be given an ‘F’ for effort and if it was the latter then they would be given an ‘F’ for their stupidity.

Still, they could not be seen as having a lack of courage. A plan like theirs would, according to their own data, either be a complete win or a catastrophic loss. If they could kill that Gaian with a single surgical strike then, by their estimations, the entire AGC would begin to completely disintegrate in a matter of weeks at best. Whether they could pull off said assassination was an entirely different matter altogether.

But despite the long odds, they had to try. They had to strike a blow against the tyranny of the AGC. If they succeeded and claimed Arkhan’s life, the path to rebuilding the UGN into the sole galactic hyperpower would be opened. And so, as the days before Arkhan’s twenty-fifth birthday drew to an end, they attempted to set the stage for one last climactic showdown that would decide the fate of everything in the galaxy.

…

It was still so very far away from the feeding grounds. It was still so very, very hungry. If only it could move faster without damaging itself and shaving off large chunks of itself, it would be able to reach its destination all the faster and feast all the sooner. The two commands that screamed incessantly in its hive mind were demanding that it reach its prey with all due haste, as it was so very tired of self-cannibalizing just to keep itself going. When it reached its destination, it would devour everything and let the sapient lifeforms there know the joy of being just another part of itself.

It would only be a short while now before its scouting tendril reached the edge of the buffet, at which point it could test the waters and begin to scope out its prey’s weak points. Once that was done, it could descend upon weakened areas and devour everything. Nothing would be spared from its hunger, not even gas giants would emerge from their harvest unscathed. Planets would be devoured down to the last bit of the crust; oceans would be drunk and the very atmosphere would be ingested. All of it was needed to expand the swarm, all of it was needed to help it grow more perfect.

The only thing left in its wake would be orphaned black holes left floating without even a single asteroid orbiting them. It did not know how many galaxies had already been devoured; it simply did not keep track of such things. Why would it need to? It had consumed everything in its path and none could withstand it.

It was coming, and all attempts to try and stop it would be met with abject failure. The fear that the prey would experience would be like seasoning the meat and making it all the more delicious. Its bodies could drown out the light of stars and plunge worlds into darkness with the sheer volume of bioforms swarming around, both in and outside of the atmosphere. Its hunger would be sated, even if only temporarily, and after it was done it would move on to the next galaxy.

With each galaxy devoured it would create another massive swarm that would diverge from the original hive and go on to attack and devour another galaxy, repeating the cycle all over again.

It would expand and grow and adapt and improve until it was perfect. That was all that mattered besides the all-consuming hunger that plagued it.

The Swarm was coming, the Hive was coming, Zeyhris was coming. By the end of its feast there would be no individuals or nations remaining, only Zeyhris, the ultimate lifeform. All would become Zeyhris, all would know eternal life in the Hive and all would exist solely to push Zeyhris forward to devour and assimilate more and more and more until nothing was left save itself.

The Hunger would be sated.