Thanks to our advanced medical techniques, or at least, advanced compared to how primitive they were before, our wounded compatriots are back on their feet in a relatively short amount of time.
“Let me up!”
Ah, the truly wondrous cooperation that members of the same colony can display. It’s heart-warming.
“I won’t run! This time!”
The collective and unselfish nature of the ant is a marvel of nature. The healers see to their injured siblings not only with care and dedication, but true joy, as they fulfill their chosen purpose and dedicate their labour to the glory of our family.
“Eldest! I’ll be good!”
Over here we have a slightly different example. An ant being sat on by a giant gorilla because she refused to sit still whilst the poison she readily admitted to coursing through her veins was expunged. How impatient can you get?! Too impatient to be healed of frickin’ poison?! There’s a limit! Luckily, Invidia was on the ball and before Vibrant had managed to get up a full head of steam, she ran mandibles first into a barrier which stunned her long enough for Tiny to latch onto her leg. After a brief wrestle that she was destined to lose, I asked Tiny to ensure she remained still for the rest of her treatment, so he sat on her. For some reason, she’s chosen to persistently complain about this eminently satisfactory outcome.
“What is the problem, Vibrant? You are poisoned. You are getting healed. Because you couldn’t sit still long enough for that to happen, you are being pressed to the ground by ape butt. None of this should be confusing to you!”
“I’m booooored!”
“WHO CARES?!”
“Oh! Me! Me!”
“THAT WAS RHETORICAL!”
GAH! I’m going to burst a valve or something.
“Just be sat on until we get the all clear and next time don’t get bit, alright?”
We haven’t even gotten up into the vast tangle of webs above our heads, the true home territory of this gang of spiders, and already we’re having trouble with tactics. If we constantly have to stop and purge poison from amongst the ranks, then we’ll have a slow time of it indeed. If we get jumped by a swarm with half of our members out of action due to poisoning… I’d be fine, more likely than not, but the regular ants with us wouldn’t be so lucky. The objective here is to level up Vibrant’s squad, not get them wiped out.
“Do we have any generals around here?”
One of the ants nearby raises an antenna in response to my question.
“Yes, Eldest. I’m Emilia, one of Vibrant’s generals.”
This is the ant I saw on the way here, running along at Vibrant’s heels.
“Emilia? She named you?”
“She’s named most of us, Eldest.”
The general sounds proud of the fact, which is fine. I never claimed to have some divine right to name all ants, it’s just curious that Vibrant would take it on herself to hand out names. I wonder why she did. Just because I did? That seems unlikely. Perhaps now that the ants know about the concept of names, they’re beginning to grow fond of the idea? I think I’d like that, if it were true. I mean, technically we’d all have the same last name, being descended from the same individual. And it appears we may have finally reached the stage where the word ‘ant’ doesn’t have to feature in every name.
“Alright then, Emilia. I think we should mix up our strategy for our next outing. Mages in every group, light up the area to reduce sneak attack opportunities, scouts with eyes on the sky. Keep the groups close together in case the flames attract too much attention. We can shut off the fire and work on clearing out the mess. Also, do we have any core shapers in this group?”
Emilia looks at me a little confused for a moment.
“We do, Eldest. But why are you telling me this?”
“So, we can… so we can do the things I’ve suggested?”
“We follow Vibrant.”
Oh really?! Interesting! They are in fact loyal to Vibrant in such a direct way that they won’t do what I tell them, just because I tell them to? That’s neat! Far from being frustrated or mad about it, I feel somewhat happy. Finally, some people who won’t just do everything I say! Having everyone following my instructions is beyond weird, given my previous life. As a human, I don’t think anyone did what I suggested even once…
At any rate, this situation is an easy enough fix.
“Hey Vibrant, should Emilia do what I said?”
“Will you let me up?!”
“Sure.”
“Do it, Emmy!”
[Tiny, let her up.] [Haaah.]The big ape almost seems a little disappointed at having to relinquish his comfortable seat. Freed from the rather burdensome weight the gorilla posed, Vibrant springs to her feet and immediately dashes around in a blistering circle.
“Ahhh! I need to move my legs! All six are cramping!”
“Vibrant!”
“Yep-yep!” she cheerfully replies without stopping her sprint.
“Sit down and let the healers finish checking you or I’ll get Crinis to hold you down this time!”
“Crin-Crin wouldn’t do that!”
“Wanna bet?”
“What’s a bet?”
“SIT!” I flood the area with a roar of pheromones which are apparently just persuasive enough to make Vibrant stop running. “Now, what did you think of my idea?”
“Hmm? Ah! I thought it sounded good! We’re best suited for high speed fighting though, so I think we should make sure every group keeps moving! I can stay in the middle and help out where I need. I can be there in a flash!”
“That’s… actually a good idea.”
Vibrant and her squad are just as she said, specialised in moving, hit and run style fights. After joining her squad, most of the members have taken at least one mutation to enhance their speed and train their dashing skills relentlessly. When her generals evolved to tier four, they unanimously chose a speed or agility aura power to supplement their existing combat aura. The result is an incredibly mobile force that does its best work on the run.
“Alright then Vibrant, we’ll do it as you’ve suggested, how does that sound, Emilia?”
The tier four general salutes with one antenna toward Vibrant and then me.
“I’ll see it done!”
She quickly scuttles off to arrange things with the other generals of the group and before long teams are being reforged and more detailed movement plans being discussed. I only have one more thing I need to organise before I’m ready to go.
“Protectant, make sure you and your team secure experience and Biomass during this outing. I want a full report when we’re done.”
…
“Understood.”
The message is barely a whisper against my antennae and the ant herself refuses to step out of hiding, but it appears I’ve gotten my point across. There is a metric boatload of spiders in this expanse, should be enough experience for all of us! In fact, the numbers make me curious if all of these eight-legged beasties are spawned, or if a giant spider momma exists in this expanse and has taken over the place. The truly giant, kilometres high web seems to suggest that a big ol’ spider is living in here somewhere. If she’s laying eggs, then a ridiculous population of young would make perfect sense. Perhaps if I eat and get a few profiles I might get an answer to that question. Although spiders don’t produce at quite the same prodigious rate as ants, they can lay up to a thousand eggs in a single clutch, depending on the species. That’s a pittance compared to say, army ant queens, who lay around three-hundred thousand per day, but spiders are usually a lot more capable on their own than a single ant. Heck, army ants are pretty much blind, and the workers are tiny. Not that it matters with those sorts of numbers.
Imagine if my colony was producing three hundred thousand new hatchlings every day… Yeesh. It’d get out of control pretty darn fast.
