I Am The Swarm

‘Is this really necessary?’ Bular couldn’t help but complain internally. He wasn’t sure if the opposing party genuinely lived in such an environment or if they had deliberately arranged the venue this way to express some kind of primitive reverence.

Bular guessed it was the latter. One of the hallmarks of technological progress is to enhance convenience in life. If a civilization had advanced to the point of conquering star systems, yet still resided in primitive caves, Bular knew he couldn’t tolerate it.

If this were the Troi civilization, it would undoubtedly be a grand and imposing metallic hall, complete with amplifiers, translators, large video screens, hostesses for protocol, and refreshments—everything in order. While other civilizations might differ in details, none would go so far as to be this rudimentary.

Bular could only comfort himself by thinking this was part of their tradition—a very high-standard reception. As he shifted his gaze back to the Swarm members in attendance, that strange feeling he had earlier once again washed over him.

Bular’s brows furrowed. His chiseled and angular face took on a contemplative expression. Suddenly, he finally realized what was amiss.

The proportions of the opposing party were too perfect!

Yes, that was it. This was what made Bular feel uneasy. Normally, even if a protective suit sacrificed some functionality for the sake of being lightweight and form-fitting, there would still be visible signs at the joints.

For instance, if he were to remove his helmet now, his head would appear slightly smaller against the backdrop of the protective suit, and the collar of the suit would be clearly noticeable.

Yet, as Bular observed the male Swarm member seated before him from every angle, he saw no such indications. The armor seemed to be seamlessly integrated with its body, flawless in every way. Even after scrutinizing the neck area for a long time, he couldn’t detect any anomalies.

Could it be that this armor wasn’t something the Swarm wore, but rather something they were born with? Were those intricate spikes and decorations not useless ornaments but natural extensions of their bodies? An absurd thought suddenly popped into Bular’s mind. He quickly shook his head to dispel it.

Impossible. Even if a species had been highly aggressive during its primitive era, evolution tends to diminish such traits as they develop tools, cognitive abilities, and technology. Their physical strength, endurance, and speed would all decline, let alone retain such external weaponry. Typically, at most, they would retain features like fangs or claws.

This trend would continue until the species made a breakthrough in biotechnology. With the aid of certain chemical enhancements, they could regain strength, endurance, and speed. But the likelihood of re-embracing aggressive external features was slim. Could this biological path really be so wild that they even restored these attributes?

Unbelievable. If this armor was indeed reminiscent of their ancestors’ appearance during ancient times, the combat capabilities of a fully-armored form must reflect an environment of unimaginable harshness. What kind of peril would necessitate such extreme adaptations?

It was plausible. The fact that the Swarm members could breathe naturally in this room implied that this was their natural habitat. If so, their ability to function in this environment without additional gear seemed reasonable.

Wait. Something about this thought felt off. If this hypothesis were correct, wouldn’t that mean this armor was essentially their skin, and they were currently not wearing any clothing?

No, no. That couldn’t be right. How could they appear in such an important setting in such a manner? Regardless of the species, once they reached a level of civilization, they should comprehend the concept of modesty, shouldn’t they?

But as he observed the Swarm member, it seemed like there wasn’t anything inappropriate about their appearance. Or was it simply a difference in perception between species? If Bular stripped completely and stood here now, would they even notice which parts of his body shouldn’t be exposed? Probably?

Bular’s thoughts became increasingly chaotic. He had a gut feeling that this was an important question, but he couldn’t figure out why. His instincts were usually spot-on, and he trusted them implicitly.

Sitting across from Bular, Danton felt a chill run down his neck under Bular’s intense and unblinking gaze. Uncomfortably, he reached up to rub his neck, wondering if the Troi species had some kind of mental disorder.

Kayi, noticing Danton’s reaction, sensed something was off. The Major General she admired seemed to have lost his composure. She quickly tugged at Bular’s protective suit, snapping him out of his daze. However, her curiosity was piqued—what exactly had captured the Major General’s attention so thoroughly?

Looking at the ferocious horn-like protrusions and the wild, violent appearance of the keratinous exoskeleton, Kayi pondered silently. Was it these features? Did the Major General have a particular liking for them? She mused privately, wondering if she should consider ordering a custom suit for herself…

One must admit, while the Troi species—both male and female—were all burly and muscular, their thoughts were astonishingly whimsical and imaginative. Was this some kind of racial trait? ℞äℕОᛒƐʂ

Coming back to his senses, Bular also realized his loss of composure. Quickly, he cleared his mind of the chaotic thoughts. After a brief cough to cover his embarrassment, he took the initiative to ask, “May I know how to address you and your species?”

Up until now, the Interstellar Technological Confederation had no idea what the Swarm actually called themselves. The name “Swarm” had been coined by the Riken species and subsequently adopted by everyone else. However, in formal diplomatic settings, it was only proper to ask the species in question what they preferred to be called. Assigning them a nickname and sticking to it would hardly be respectful.

“You may call us the Genesis Swarm. We are quite fond of that name. As for myself, I am Danton, a Major General, responsible for this diplomatic mission,” Danton replied. His voice was low, raspy, and resonant, as if processed through multiple layers of reverberation.

As for the species’ official name, although Luo Wen was fond of the term “Swarm,” it was only natural for a species to have its own name after years of development. Adopting a nickname created by others would seem unprincipled and invite scorn.

Thus, while “Swarm” could remain part of the designation, it needed a proper prefix. Initially, Luo Wen had considered using “Iphieash,” but upon further reflection, he decided against it. That name was part of his original foundation. Even though this universe likely had no connection to the wizarding continent he came from, there was always a possibility, however slim.

Even if the universes were unrelated, his ability to traverse worlds suggested that other unknown entities could potentially do the same. If any records of “Iphieash” existed and surfaced, they might expose his origins and secrets. Granted, in the wizarding continent, “Iphieash” was more myth than reality, with few reliable accounts.

Cautious by nature, Luo Wen had decided to use “Genesis” as the prefix after careful consideration. Within the Swarm itself, “Genesis Planet” and “Genesis System” were internal designations. To the outside world, the Genesis System was known by other names, such as “T83 System” among the Riken.

Thus, this choice wouldn’t reveal much.

“Genesis? Swarm?” Bular murmured, repeating the names to himself.

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