It was meant to be a routine trading mission.

"Queen! The module, it's-" A crackling over the channel, sharp, deafening,
followed by the acrid smell of burnt flesh, as the voice abruptly fell silent.
The command room, the centerpoint of the ship, its heart, was quiet and still,
broken only by punctuated flickering flashes of eerie jade light. Faltering, the
illumination flared brightly, momentarily washing the chamber in a green glow,
before fluttering to darkness again.

In darkness, only breathing, the hive's heart slowly pulsing with ragged beats
as the ship laboured onwards.

In the flash, the Queen, fixed still as a statue in the command chair, clawed,
carapaced hands clenched tight about the arms of her throne, her face impassive,
her faceted eyes revealing nothing.

And again, in darkness, only the static crackle of equipment failing from
below, deeper in the bowels of the ship.

And then, even those fell silent.

A routine...trading...mission...

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ship loomed overhead on the command's display, filling the entire module.
Bulbous and rotund, defensive spikes, shield orb pustles, and a few bulky, slow
moving turrets bristled in warning. Swarming, little more than dusty flecks
against the backdrop of the massive, defensive vessel, aetherbeasts twisted
through space, darting in and scurrying back, repulsed by the gnome ship's
barriers. A skerry of threat, and through it the Wryden Hive swooped, sliding
through the slipstreams and wakes of the massive creatures to dock with the
merchant fleet.

"Make it quick." The Queen's tone was short, bored, her statement delivered
almost the instant that the two ships linked a bridge. Her fingers lazily
drummed against the arm of her throne as the Hive's minions hustled, quickly
presenting their wares to the gnomes. A faint chittering drifted up to the
command room, vague haggles and counteroffers filtering into the chamber in
snatches and whispers.

"Are you FINISHED yet?"

The underlings flinched at the impatient shout, finalizing their trades and
dashing to their stations. With a lurching groan, the Hive's hold opened,
funneled by the frantic fingerpunching of a small, spindly kephera to empty into
the reservoirs of the trading vessel. The ship jolted, bouncing once in a rough
shake as the bridge retracted,

severing the link between the two crafts. Finally, in a breathy pant: "Yes,
Queen. Mission accomplished."

The command room was silent for a moment. Hazy, filtered jade light cast the
Queen's features into an unreadable expression. Around her, a faint pulsing, as
energy coursed in a conduit, sliding through the Hive's heart to empower the
extremities: flashing, bright green light sparking as power spun through the
ship's nerves into the grid, turrets, collectors, shield.

"Launch."

Softly, silently, the Hive pushed off, spinning into the aetherways. Pulling
away from the drag of the massive trading ship, the smaller vessel ducked
through aether winds, twisting to find a route clear back to home, away from the
dangers of aetherspace, a safe path to its dock. Back to Prime.

If only things went so easy.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sluggish, stolen momentum, as the Hive slowed to a lazy drift, helpless on the
aetherways. The command module's screen suddenly went black, eclipsed entirely
by a dark, rippling image. Filling the entire view, a foreign, enemy craft swam
before the Queen, the ship's ugly, Tainted lines provoking a rare exclamation of
anger.

"Full power to command!" The directive was barked. No room for question -
without a moment's pause, the empath followed, and the throne shook, rocked by
the sudden surge of power. Sickeningly, gut-churning, the entire craft rolled,
ducking sideways, below, away from the Magnagoran ship.

"Silent run off!"

"Far horizon off!"

"Full power to the command!"

Commands sheared the air, as the Queen swiftly pared the ship's movement down
to precise maneuvers, threading the small craft between white-hot arcs of fire.
Unspoken, the shield flared to life, power switching to essentials, and the
cabin's light dimmed. In the gloom, the Queen's face remained, impassive, dark
eyes reflecting the console's display: multiplied in the minute, ebony facets,
flak glittered back, dozens of tiny streams of molten energy sparkling like
deadly starlight. Silent, unmoving she sat, as the ship shuddered with a pained
screech of rent metal.

"Queen! We've been hi-"

"Heal it." Her voice, cool, demanding, cut across the gunner's panicked cry.
Below, a flare of green, as the empath redirected a stream of energy towards the
damaged turret. A faint klaxon rang out, and a single red light pulsed once
across the console's display. Energy reserves low.

The Queen exhaled sharply, ignoring the warning. Instead, she wrenched the ship
about, swooping low and close to the enemy vessel.

"My Queen?!" The empath's voice was stunned, incredulous, underscored by taut
fear.

She did not reply, only, brazenly, continued the turn, sliding closer to the
Tainted craft as she directed a surge of energy to the ship's steering. Shaking,
the command responded, and the ship sped up, plummeting directly towards the
enemy. Below, from the collectors, an insectile scream pierced the humid cabin
air.

"AT. YOUR. STATIONS." The Queen's voice rang across the ship's channel, each
chittered word harsh and condemning.

And, still, the Hive continued its reckless, suicidal plunge towards the
Magnagoran craft. Fire ceased - too close for the foes to reliably shoot,
although the small blessing seemed little comfort to the crew. Breathless, they
obeyed, though faint whispers (prayers?) could be heard escaping the lips of a
gunner, hands slack at his turret. Helpless, they merely waited, watching as
their Queen steered them into death.

And then..."MORE POWER!" Instinctively, the empath obeyed, directing almost all
of the remaining power to the command module. The ship responded with a buzz,
leaping ahead even faster, as the Queen coaxed the steering a fraction upwards,
skimming close enough to the enemy to almost graze their turrets - leaping,
falling, swooping, skirling, the ship recovered its momentum, lunging past the
Magnagorans on a breakneck slingshot as the thrusters shot out a final burst of
acceleration in a bone-shaking sluice - and then they were past, a vortex
looming before them.

Without preamble, the ship tunneled, and was gone.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ship floated silently through the cold darkness of deepest aetherspace. The
crew let out a sudden cheer as the craft spun through the vortex, quickly hushed
by an urgent clicking from the Queen. This was dragon territory, and the monitor
overhead remained ominously empty.

Something was not normal.

Speed slowed as the craft drifted away from the vortex, ripples of energy dying
out to faint waves of distortion across the screen. Flickering, the module's
display dimmed as the empath balanced the scant power reserves - augmenting the
dwindling supply, the Queen's hands tightened into fists as a shimmering current
filled the air before her. Jade light swirled outwards, unfurling from her chest
and glittering for a bright moment before melting away into the chamber's walls.

Exhaling sharply from the draining transfer of power, she stared up at the
display again: it remained dim. An immense shadow loomed across the screen as it
grew darker and finally, from within the flux of the vortex, a giant ship
emerged from its hidden immersion, separating from the crackling noise and
static of the warp. It advanced, its shape resolving into sleek, barbed lines,
woven with a sickening, flaring crimson glow. Tainted. High power turrets swept
up from the ship's prow to arch aftwards in a menacing line of flaring spines,
while massive energy collectors whirred from their positions flanking the cabin.

The Fang - Magnagora's battle cruiser. The largest and most deadly ship in
aetherspace.

A blinding scarlet light eclipsed the vessel, each turret flaring with a
roiling nimbus of power, and the Hive lurched to a stop, energy sapped from the
sudden, siphoning attack. For a moment, all was still, dark, and then the
command display coughed back to life, a sallow viscanti face filling the screen.
His eyes were dark as he stared out at the Hive's captain, his voice crisp and
sharp as he delivered his message.

"By right of arms and rule of force, this ship is now property of The Righteous
Principality of Magnagora."

The Queen returned the stare, her own gaze revealing nothing. Finally: "Esano.
Old friend." A chapter of history flowed beneath her words, a faint hitch to her
cadence hinting at political vagaries, shifting loyalties, betrayal, vengeance.

The man allowed himself a half-smile. "Greetings...Queen." His voice lingered
in a faint sneer on the title, before he repeated his message. "By right of arms
and rule of force, this ship is now property of The Righteous Principality of
Magnagora. Stand down, and prepare to be boarded."

The Queen's lips parted in a rare, needle-sharp smile. "And what shall I
expect, regarding treatment of my crew?"

"They shall be re-educated as best Fain sees fitting for them.
Some...ahh...provisions may have to be made, race allowing."

"You mean they will be slaughtered."

"Only if they share your pathetic form, bug."

What choice did she have?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Close transmission." The module went abruptly dark. From the depths of the
ship, something shuddered, as the Fang locked onto the Hive, preparing its
invasive collection of crew. "All hands to the throne room."

Swiftly, the Hive's subjects responded, dashing to the command chamber. With a
shadowed, mirrored stare, the Queen's gaze swept over them. A handful of men and
women, kephera all. Summoning the last of her reserves, the Hive's Queen wrought
what little, desperate magic she could, before gesturing roughly. Wordless, they
dispersed, rushing to the link for their captors; the Queen held herself still,
imperious, as they departed, forcing her tired body to stay fixed, rigid, regal
in her throne - everything depended on this image, as the empath opened the
communication again, before he, too, joined the captives.

The viscanti's expression was muddled across the display, low power causing his
features to waver in and out of focus. Dark, though, with a touch of pensive
deliberation. "I would not have expected to find faelings and trill on your
crew." The man paused, while behind him the motley crew filed past, pinned in by
the bulky, sword-bristling forms of Ur'Guards. "Even an Illithoid?" Surprise
coloured his voice.

The Queen forced out a harsh laugh. "You see me for truth," she snarled. "Queen
of nothing. Troubled times call for allowances." She held herself upright,
willing the exhaustion leadening her limbs to hold off, just long enough for
this, willing the illusions to hold, just until the Fang reached Prime.
Glomdoring would intervene for the prisoners, then...

"Fain could give you so much more-"

"Go to Nil."

With the curse, the Queen grunted, forcing the ship into a final, last evasion.
The entire Hive shook, wrenching away from the Fang, as the smaller craft dipped
sideways, sliding downwards (upwards? onwards?) in a freefall plummet towards
the deep, beckoning blue of deepest aetherspace. A trail of fire coursed past
the piloting display as the Fang fired, narrowing missing the Hive, and the
light splintered out into the void, illuminating her escape route.

But the light died, swallowed by something, vast, looming out there in the
darkness. Space itself seemed to ripple - for a heartbeat everything froze - and
then the tiny craft was swept aside like a leaf in an eddy, as a massive form
churned past, darting towards the Fang. And another. And another.

An entire swarm of dragons, awakened to a murderous rage by the stray shot.

Communication was still active - the Queen stared at the screen, her ship
jolting and rocking about her, with a fierce, triumphant grin.

The viscanti, denied the ship, narrowed his eyes, anger glistening black in his
stare, and then turned away. "RETREAT!" he bellowed, before punching at the
control panel. The display went dark, and the chamber with it. Only a faint
flare of light as the Fang swiftly switched direction, and a final, sparking
glint, as it vanished back into the vortex.

An impossible howl shook aetherspace as the swarm, denied its prey, continued
onwards, sailing into the lonely distance.

And then all was still. Just the Queen, drifting powerless in darkness, with
the dying, empty Hive.

"I am the Queen of nothing," she repeated to herself, finally, gratefully,
sinking back to slump in the depths of the throne. Around her, in a last gentle
sigh, the ship fell silent. Lights dimmed, failed. The only illumination were
the faint pinpricks of sparkling galatherial dust, floating in the distance,
reflecting in her eyes as she stared outwards at her vast, glorious tomb.

"But no Queen abandons her Hive."

And the ship drifted onwards, sailing to a final rest on the aetherial winds.
Into the shadows of the worlds, gliding slowly into the unknown. Onwards.