Chapter Twenty-Nine (Terminator-Earth)
A singularity of technology was the tipping point beyond which the scale would rock off the charts. A singularity of flesh was the tipping point where what amounted to a simple Sliver became a devastating monster of death and destruction, even if at its birth he had been nothing more than a tool of Venser's will. The Legion strengthened one another, the call roaring across the reverberating synapses as everyone copied everyone else's quirks, mutations and evolution patterns to achieve what could be defined as perfection.
Yet perfection was always out of reach, and so improvement had to keep on happening.
Tall, towering figures with tentacles twitching beneath frames of hardened skeletal matter stood tall and proud, vigilant for incoming foes. Undaunted, unafraid, and with deep embedded root-like flesh squirming across the ground, their vision was shared with that of the Hive. Large and towering, the canopy of trees nearby was dwarfed by the presence of ape-like Slivers who easily crushed the trees, making way for new Hive-Clusters to form.
The Skep wasn't just a specific piece of rock, but something that went beyond it, a churning, mass-producing location from within each eggs could safely spawn and leylines could be drained to ensure the further mutation of the eggs within.
Already, Slivers emerged from the formation with their skin tinted of a metallic hue, or with deep unsettling red eyes. They took in the Mana, they took in the world's very own nature, and then they were born out of it, mutated into something that had but one purpose. Well, once it had just one purpose, but then I came along and so their purpose changed to something more human-like, to something more understandable.
It was no longer about survival or expansion.
Now, it was about something else.
"The leylines have been breached," I muttered to myself, my eyes cast upon the sky as the flying Slivers swooped back and forth between the clouds, their forms morphing every now and then as they separated perhaps a bit too much, only to then tighten their formation once more. "The net's expanding," I whispered as Slivers with pale blue scales thrummed with power, disrupting the Aether connection and reinforcing the borders between this plane's reality and the Blind Eternities.
A Sliver emitted excited shrill verses nearby, his body coiled around a scared-looking soldier who had been sent to investigate. The man's whole body was covered with blood, and his eyes were wide, not in fear, but surprise. These were hardened men who had fought the machines and won. They didn't fear the Slivers, but that was the grace of their ignorance. Had John Connor become their messiah? Had he delivered them from evil, and were they now convinced he'd do it again? Had the man used his powers to heal the sick, bring life back to the dead and do wonders for the rebuilding project?
Whatever the reason, as squirming tendrils cast themselves over the green grass, their natural blue luminescence turned the green grass into a dark purple, the Skep began to pulse like the living, beating heart of a newly born Sliver. The soldier stared at me, the only humanoid figure in an otherwise seemingly infinite army of monsters, and yet did not speak. Tentacles soon soothed his worries, his eyes rolled back, and then he was no more, just another addition to the Hive's mind. His knowledge transferred to another Sliver, whose body twitched and morphed to assume his semblances.
He knew not what he was doing, or why, but yet just as they had escaped the Riptide Project once, now here one of them was once more, donning the skin of other animals for no reason but that it was the way forward, as decreed by the will of their leader.
The soldier walked away in a daze, at least, the creature that resembled the soldier and together with him, the shadows loomed and followed in turn. The air's temperature slowly began to increase, the squirming of the bodies of the Slivers now reaching a critical mass. In the smoldering heat, talons sharpened themselves as the newly born mutated further, their chattering through clicks drowning out all other forms of sound.
John Connor had sensed my arrival without a doubt. He had probably sensed the exponential increase in my forces, and understood that I was going to cut him off from escaping. Not that he'd escape. I was on his home plane, because he hadn't even bothered planeswalking elsewhere, thinking I had been sufficiently distracted to not track down his passage. He was wrong, of course. As the Leylines' purity was breached, and the Mana of this world began to dwindle down greedily sucked out, he knew and he understood he didn't have much time left.
I could fight in the vacuum of space upon the crevices of a shattered world. He could too, and so could RIto, but the rest of his people? They would all die, and without Mana, he'd have no way of bringing life back to his planet and to them.
He had a choice to make, and he made it.
"Men," his voice reached my ears. My spy had successfully infiltrated among his troops, his eyes mine, his ears mine, and his whole body at my command. "We once more face a threat—"
He really could have sent someone to talk things over with me. Also, where had he dropped Rito? He was nowhere in sight, neither among the gathered crowd or nearby. Honestly, now that I had the time to stretch my senses to feel the Mana, and my surroundings, it became quite clear that he wasn't even on this plane to begin with. Perhaps John Connor had moved him away?
Still, I could gleam John's plan in his entirety. It wasn't a bad plan per se. White had always been the color of judgment and decisions, of laws and absolutes. Thus it was pretty obvious he didn't want any of his allies nearby, and instead shifted them all towards evacuation. Blue was control, logic and technology. It was also the future over the past or the present. It was illusion over reality, it was...a lot of things.
The intricacies didn't concern the Hive. White mana was energy, just like Blue, Red, Black and Green. Energy, even without color, was energy. Energy became heat, heat became power, power warmed the eggs, and the eggs hatched to create more strength for the Hive.
Still, as my feet stood atop the crest of a giant worm-like Sliver with sharp scales and equally sharp talons. The Slivers extended to the far reaches of my vision by now, the Skep outpouring so many that it was a constant stream. The land died beneath our combined might, and as I clicked my tongue against my teeth, I raised my right hand up in the air.
No words were spoken.
As one singular entity the Sliver tide marched forward. Seemingly liquid in its spreading, like a tsunami made of flesh, claws and hungry mouths it advanced upon the land blighting it with its passage. The opening ranks and files of the Hive thundered with strength shared among the rest, and as the whizzing noise of artillery came closer still, shields of pale energy rose to withstand the assault.
The skies' brilliant sun shone brighter than ever, beams of purifying light spearheading down upon the vast bulk of the Slivers', and yet...
Yet nothing happened.
Undaunted and unchallenged, the Slivers kept advancing, the first buildings crumbling under the weight of their passage, the first lines of defense presenting nothing more than a meager token defense.
John Connor wasn't afraid.
He knew he was facing the maws of a hungry dragon armed with a flimsy stick, but he wasn't afraid.
Credit had to be given where credit was due.
And honestly, I knew he was probably ripping his hair out of his head because he couldn't seem to get his Time spells to work. He wasn't blue because of his love of technology, but because of the concept of Time warping involved with his existence. To him, it perhaps came easier to freeze time, undo it, or alter the events. He had thought that he could travel back in time to a moment before my arrival and set up traps there, but he realized that he couldn't.
Because everywhere I went, time was blocked. Everywhere I stood, fissures of time stabilized and closed.
The Hive had thousands of eyes, and the Slivers with the right mutation could peer into past, present and future simultaneously, before snapping back into the current course. To a beast, this would mean nothing more than a mere way to avoid getting hurt, but to a Planeswalker, to someone with brains and the ability to think in terms of long plans...it was an invaluable skill.
"So, John Connor," I said amiably as I came to a halt right in front of him, the wisps of blue mana around his hands dangerously primed, and yet unable to be unleashed. I hopped off the Sliver I had used as a travelling vehicle and stopped at an arm's length from him. "Not coming at me with your angels or soldiers now? Are you going to sing me a spiel of martyrdom and sacrifice for a better tomorrow?"
"It would be useless with something like you," John retorted. His eyes narrowed. "At least, the new Planeswalker will be safe."
"You think I won't be able to track him down?" I remarked.
"No," John replied with a smirk, "But I think you won't dare reach for him in Zendikar."
I blinked at the sudden proclamation. "Zendikar," I said slowly. "Out of all the places you could have sent him, Zendikar? The Eldrazi are there and the Phyrexians keep knocking—"
"And even those two combined are the lesser threat," John interrupted me. "When compared to the likes of you. He will be safe and in time, he will become another who opposes you, Tyrant."
I narrowed my eyes, the psionic thrumming of my Slivers increasing rapidly as I clicked my tongue against the back of my teeth. "Nissa Revane," I said sharply, John's sour face driving home that I had been right on the money. "You probably threw him straight to the wolves," I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Why did you do that? He hadn't even fully embraced his Spark. He was nothing more than a kernel, a popcorn yet to pop."
John didn't answer. "You think I'll just let this slide because it's renowned that I despise fighting?" I asked in the silence that stretched between us. He simply glared. "Playing the silent game?"
I exhaled and then lurched back, as if a punch had abruptly struck me in the guts. The sensation of a thousand eggs being crushed reaching and churning through my body as I gritted my teeth together, clenching my fists as the Slivers around me began to rustle about in an increasing frenzy.
"Oh...smart," I chuckled, "Poor Rito, being used as an express pony delivery boy. He must have landed face-first into Nissa's breasts knowing his luck," I pointed a finger at John Connor, and made a quick no-no gesture. "I'll retreat this time. Let this world's scars be a reminder," I continued. "Don't mess with mine," I slipped into the shadows, the vast majority of the Sliver hive dutifully following before what could be considered a miniature sun shone into existence up in the air, coming in a downward swing of heat and smoldering fire that easily dwarfed the strength of a supernova, and yet had quite the fine control to its movement and deadly grace.
The Skep shattered before I could even retreat towards it, but I knew better than to press my luck and try to recover the scraps of it. It had served its purpose, and as the Slivers by my side awaited my command, they swiftly began to merge with my body as I rushed on a path for the unknown, minimizing my presence until the very last moment.
It was one thing to face a Planeswalker. It was another to face a good dozen of them.
A second type of net began to extend through the world's atmosphere, clearly trying to trap me inside. Unfortunately for them, I cut my losses.
This was another difference between the Slivers of old and the new ones. I knew when to call it quits. I knew when to leave, and return another day. The ones left behind would go mad, frenzy, and seek out new ways of survival. They would be cut off the synapse grid, left to fend for themselves in a hostile world, or die within mere minutes.
Yet if only one got away, then he'd mutate, become asexual, and start to reproduce once more.
And he would not be civil about it like I had been, or orderly in my advance.
It was probable not one would survive though. They had grown pretty used to hunting them down, and without me to guide them, they'd—
Uh, I had left the Sliver-soldier to follow the evacuating civilians.
Well.
They were John Connor's people.
He could deal with resurrecting their bodies after piecing their remains back together.
