Chapter 9: The Whispering Expanse of Mindspace
A handful of silent minutes passed as Kimchi — my ever-dutiful void swimmer — ferried me through the yawning cosmic gulf. The black velvet of space around us was nothing but a hollow breath, until we breached a threshold that was less a door and more a trembling ripple in the psionic fabric. The instant we crossed it, a strange tide of gentle force swelled beneath me, lifting my body off the floor, suspending me weightless, trembling in midair.
"Thank fuck, no writhing tentacles this time," I muttered with relief. For all my grumbling, the idea of being ensnared by another one of those pulsing appendages was enough to make me want to vomit starlight.
But the thought was cruelly short-lived. Before I could even savor my freedom, a massive, cold tentacle—slick and glistening like wet obsidian—snaked through the air and snagged me, hauling me closer to its owner's invisible grasp.
"This one apologizes, dear Irvine-mate," the psionic agitator's voice seeped into my mind like honey laced with razorblades, smooth and unsettling all at once. "This one understands your aversion to tendrils of mine."
"It's not exactly aversion. More like… an irrational, deeply-rooted distaste. No offense," I said hastily, trying to soothe the alien presence. "With time, I suppose I'll get used to them." After all, the damn thing was part of my hive, my chosen mate, in some twisted cosmic way.
A soft, delighted chuckle echoed inside my skull. "This one rejoices in hearing your words, for the coming seven cycles of our shared journey shall find you in my care, Irvine-mate."
"Seven cycles? Seriously?" I blinked, incredulous. "Is that how long it takes to inspect my brain for damage?"
"The assessment was immediate upon embracing you. The week ahead will be spent reinforcing your mental fortifications so you may stand before the queen-brain unscathed. Furthermore, this one shall probe your latent psionic aptitudes—those hidden strands of power you have yet to fathom—to guide your evolution with precision."
My heart skipped a beat, excitement and terror warring inside me. "Wait, so my psionics aren't just telepathy? There are… other kinds?"
"Indeed. Psionic manipulation transcends mere telepathy. The hive executes it flawlessly, weaving minds into a collective tapestry without rupture, unlike lesser species whose trust frays and shatters under strain. Some, like this one, bear mutations unlocking powers beyond thought—telekinesis, for example."
I furrowed my brow, struggling to process. "How do you test that? Please tell me it's not invasive."
"No harm shall come to you, Irvine-mate. The tests occur during your slumber. This one will traverse the labyrinth of your mind to locate your Psionic Origin—the primordial source of your power. Awake, your defenses would flare, obstructing access and risking injury."
Despite the eerie intimacy of a foreign consciousness crawling through my innermost sanctum, the promise of revelation outweighed my unease. "You have my full trust, future mate. But can you return me to my Kimchi pouch before sending me to sleep? I find solace there."
A strange, gurgling sound — maybe a chuckle — emanated from the agitator before she responded with warmth that nearly melted my dread. "Of course, Irvine-mate. Your comfort is paramount, surpassing all else in this vast cosmos. We cherish your trust deeply."
Nestled back into the warm, padded embrace of Kimchi's pouch, I ate with steady hands as she insisted I fuel myself. How long the process would take was unknown. The hive's tendrils sensed mutation instantly, but I was an anomaly, demanding cautious care.
My eyelids grew heavy. The comforting hum of the void ship's engines and Kimchi's steady pulse lulled me into the sweet oblivion of sleep.
Once I slipped beneath the veil of unconsciousness, Kimchi relinked with the queen and the agitator. "He would name you if he dared," she whispered through the psionic net. "At first, he feared us, but now—he clearly cares."
The agitator's voice was a low murmur threaded with uncertainty. "This one knows, designation Kimchi. Yet the queen fears the power of names. To name those with greater psionic might could fracture our collective strength, diluting the hive's unity."
She paused, fingers ghosting over my serene face. "We love him, but not all are meant to journey forward with him. For now, we take solace in guiding him through the link. No names until the queen receives her gift."
Kimchi's gaze lifted, confusion and fear shadowing her obsidian eyes. Freed to roam her thoughts as a bio-infiltrator, she was still tethered to the hive's will. The newfound autonomy was lonely—a silence deeper than space itself.
Suddenly, a booming psionic voice shattered the quiet.
"DESIGNATION KIMCHI," the queen's presence thundered through the link, resounding with ancient authority and unexpected tenderness. "YOUR FEAR IS UNDERSTOOD. YOU WERE NOT FORGED FOR THIS PATH, BUT THE FREEDOM GRANTED IS FOR A PURPOSE FAR GREATER THAN YOUR DESIGN. OUR FUTURE MATE IS BONDED TO YOU; I FEEL IT IN EVERY PULSE OF THE COLLECTIVE.
ISOLATION MAY WRAP YOU NOW, BUT REMEMBER: YOU ARE STILL US. NEVER FORGET."
Kimchi's thorax swelled with fierce pride. The queen's words ignited a spark—a sacred trust. Despite the cold vastness around her, she was his closest anchor. Wherever Irvine's fractured body lay inert, his spirit clung to her presence.
She brushed a tender, unnatural limb over my unconscious face before reconnecting with the agitator. "Apologies for the delay. Please explore the gifts our mate bears—his perfection radiates."
"Indeed. Designation Kimchi, you must enter torpor. Since Irvine's transformation, you have yet to rest. Mate requires at least twelve hours of sleep. This one will supply nutrients directly to his brain while I trace his origin."
Kimchi crouched, shrinking from five meters to three, her eyes remaining open but distant. Rest was overdue, her love the fuel that kept her relentless.
With Kimchi now in torpor, the agitator began her delicate work. Though invisible, a psionic mind is paradoxically vast—expanding beyond the body's confines like a universe within. The queen's mind was a cosmic labyrinth, stretching as far as her farthest tendril, an entity rivaling gods.
The agitator gently massaged my mental defenses, weaving through barriers forged by trust and prior communion. Unlike battlefields where she tore minds asunder, here she moved with reverence and care.
She was shocked by the scale of my mind—larger, richer than any human she had encountered. Yet many sections were locked away, cloaked in defenses even she dared not breach. Respecting those wards, she skirted around them.
Hours passed as she sifted through memories, thought patterns, and hidden potentials. Then she stopped, breath caught in her ethereal throat.
What she uncovered shook the hive to its core.
A wave of pheromones surged through the collective, igniting every female body into a feverish heat—the hive stirred like a volcano awakening.
What lay in my mind was no ordinary secret.