Interlude 2: The Will of God

Priorita Prime rose slowly within the ring of contestants. They woke from their fugue state as she ascended. Music blared, fireworks sparked, and aesthetically pleasing dancers of all shapes swayed, or gyrated to excite the viewers of several hundred worlds.

“Welcome dears! To the very first round table meeting of this season of WARGAMES!” Every creature—except the contestants—started singing the theme-song. She flashed chartreuse and extruded enough of the scent of satisfaction that all would know how pleased she was with them.

Half of the contestant-representatives took the opportunity to bolt, and she had to activate their tethers. She suppressed a red ripple of disgust. Cowardice like this would not go unnoticed. The viewers would take note, and the information would affect the stage two betting.

“We have with us one representative of every surviving contestant species. Oh my! There are some familiar faces here that I’ve just been dying to meet! Some promising contestants are missing—ones I was sure would make it. Oh well! That’s WARGAMES!” She oozed across the stage in the ballroom of her cruiser to stop before a tiny, jet black insectoid. Gold descended upon the contestant like a pillar of light, and the creature’s name tag was magnified for the recording.

Kulioqui: Gosporian Swarm Queen

“I have with me the number one contestant by kill count!”

A number appeared beneath the name tag with an explosion.

73,887

“Wow! What an incredible achievement. Viewers, please give it up for Kulioqui and the entire Gosporian civilisation! We’ve seen swarms in the past, but it’s rare to see the strategy this species employed.”

A wireframe model appeared at the centre of the ring, and Priorita jiggled over to it. “The Gosporian Titan! An amalgam consisting of between ten thousand and ten million individual units, all controlled by one mind!” The wireframe zoomed in to show a tiny speck at its centre. The queen.

She slid back over to the tiny insectoid. “Tell me, little one, what took you and your sisters so long to form the first titan? Why did you send so many drones and so few queens? It appears you lost almost twenty-five billion units before you got your act together on day four!”

The little Gosporian quivered, and for a moment Priorita thought it might attack her. She had to suppress a surge of excitement in order to keep her outer membrane smooth.

“I owe you no explanation, overlord.” Chittered the queen. “The swarm will consume this battlefield, and one day we will consume you too.”

“Oh my! How spunky! Did you hear that, viewers? The little insect here says she’s going to eat all of the contestants, and then come for us too! We call those thoughts: ‘Delusions of Grandeur.’ Priorita Prime jiggled and released the scent of humour. She sprouted a pseudopod arm and patted the tiny drone on the head. What a cutie! “Unfortunately for this little queen, one of us has looked into their history. We’re going to share it with you, our dear viewers—whether she likes it or not!”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The Gosporian queen thrashed and tried to attack her, but only struck the repulser field.

“Control yourself, dear. You’re lucky we decided that an amalgam counted as a single unit for the five-kill rule, or else you’d find yourself without drones to work with.” She appreciated showmanship, but the little queen’s antics risked distracting the viewers from her lesson.

“In primitive times, the Gosporian planet was a battleground of amalgamated swarms, titans that shook the planet and fought battles that shattered mountains! Alas, all good things come to an end—and eventually one queen rose to rule the planet. This single queen led a matriarchal monarchy, mother to daughter, generation by generation.”

The queen hissed threats under her breath in an endless stream—she sure was spunky!

“For thousands of years, a queen birthed a single daughter, transferred her knowledge and died. Letting the fledgeling take control of the planet. Upon the onboarding of their civilisation onto WARGAMES! The planetary queen birthed six daughters, and now, five titans stride a new world.”

The queen froze. Priorita jiggled close. “Yep! Only five! One of your sisters… Well the viewers all know what happened to her!”

She giggled as she oozed away to the next contestant. This one was much more pliable, answering questions and giving some context to their actions. How boring. The show progressed just as a thousand episodes had before. She always enjoyed these little interludes. An opportunity to look into the eyes of the contestants. One of them would eventually stand and fight at her side.

She circled the stage, explaining to the viewers each of the surviving contestants unique strategies and bizarre physiology. One by one she presented them, until she could take it no longer.

The delegate from the human civilisation remained shrouded in shadow. It was incredible. For the first time in history, a pathetic, unqualified, pacifist civilization had made it through stage one. Without him and his people, her narrative would feel incomplete. This year’s ratings would be record breaking!

Shadow evaporated as a pillar of light beamed down on a woman, and Priorita immediately paused the recording.

She tripled in size and boiled bright red as membranous spikes erupted all over.

“WHERE IS HE, WHERE IS MY FAVOURITE?” The question roared into a billion clones.

“My apologies, Prime. I am the self in charge of monitoring the displayed contestant. This human female has the highest kill count of her civilisation. It is her right to be upon the stage. Her incredible actions in the Mesa biome have capt—”

Priorita popped the clone with a thought, ending its life. How fucking dare she.

She requested the favourite. She wanted the favourite. Her word that of God.

Microseconds stretched, the silence gnawing at her patience. Were her lesser selves really so cowardly? Her form boiled, grew, doubled and divided. A vermilion clone scooted away across the stage, screaming. Priorita raced after it. She formed a vacuole and engulfed the clone in a phagosome. Its death calmed her.

All was silent.

“Apologies Prime”

“What for, Dear?”

Another pause.

“I am the self in charge of monitoring the Human named Allan. Unfortunately, his HP hit zero just as stage one ended. By our rules, he is considered dead.”

“Oh my!” Replied Priorita Prime. “Is that it? You had me worried for a moment!”

Another pause.

“Implement a rule, dear. Apply a full status heal on all contestants who completed stage one. Disable replay on his final moments. Include our Allan in the surviving population.”

“This won’t go unnoticed.” Whispered one of her clones—just before she popped it into oblivion.

“As you will, Prime.” Replied Allan’s handler.

Priorita Prime considered popping this clone too. It’s behaviour deviated dangerously from her will, but she decided to spare it—for now. It had worked with the favourite, and by extension also had her favour.

She absorbed a multitude of visual packets from the singularity, refreshing her memory of this human female.

On with the show!

Mei Feng: Human Female

Kills: 127