Space did not care.
It did not care about hunger, or fear, or hope, or the names ships gave themselves before they vanished into it. It only stretched on, vast and cold, with stars scattered through it like old sparks that refused to die.
The Zerg fleet moved through that vastness in steady silence.
There was no music of engines, no bright flame behind them, no proud banners carried across the void.
Their travel was different. Their ships flexed and pulsed and pushed themselves forward with living force, folding pressure through membranes and organs that had long ago replaced anything like ordinary machinery.
Seen from far enough away, the whole fleet looked like a black tide moving through frozen night.
Seen up close, it was worse.
The largest hive ships were like drifting mountains made from shell and bone, layered with thick plates that opened and closed in slow rhythm.
