Excerpt from Archmage Vildius’s lecture on swarm aberrants - Every trillion or so swarm members is born as an aberrant, which is defined as a member of a swarm species that has a higher level of intelligence than the hive mind of its species. This enables it to maintain a consciousness of its own that can even resist the commands of the hive mind! This resistance fascinates the mind causing it to humor the aberrant, giving in to its demands should they align with its own goals. With the enhanced intelligent guidance of an aberrant, the rest of the hive can adapt to situations with increased efficiency. Much like how you students learning from me is much more efficient than going and getting eaten trying to study this yourselves.

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Using mind movies to describe my plan to The Voice, I feel like I got its approval. You want to know what mind movies are? Well, they are exactly that. Whenever I tried “talking” to The Voice, I mostly got a sense of confusion. What a wonderful thing, to be tethered to a being that can force you to do things against your will yet somehow be incapable of complete sentences. But I digress. The mind movies send my plan to the hive mind not in words, but as a moving picture, just like the movies back home. 

My movie plan went something like this:

1. Us surviving spider monsters block up one side of the tunnel leaving a goblin sized opening.
2. If anything like I remember, goblins will not even think of taking down the barrier and instead will try to run in one at a time through the remaining space.
3. We have one spiders a little back from the entrance, having as many as will fit hide surrounding it. (We are spider things, so on the wall as well as to the side ground level)
4. A goblin (hopefully) sees the spider in the distance and runs forth. A spider that’s surrounding the entrance will bite the goblin and carry it away to finish the job.
5. Once there are no spiders left to pick off goblins, the one spider will move to block the gate until the spiders can finish off their opponent and get back into position.
   1. The spider blocking does not lunge, but just tries to claw at a safe distance to buy time.
6. If the blocker dies, someone else goes to block. (Hopefully there is someone else)

Yes, this plan is full of holes. No, I can not think of anything better that will keep The Voice from sending the spiders, along with me, on a suicidal charge. I’m working against the clock here!

To be able to adapt in the likely chance something goes wrong, I will be off to the side and not fighting myself. Instead I will send more mind movies to The Voice if needed. Now all that's left to do is wait…

After hours of waiting (probably not, as I am so tensed up that a doctor would be yelling at me), I finally see the goblins strutting down the passage. I would estimate that there are probably 40 ish goblins, about equal to our original numbers. For reference, we are 14 spiders strong, not counting me, so that makes us outnumbered about 3 to 1. Let's hope my plan works.

The front two goblins see me and decoy bug and begin to charge. Oop. They are stupider than I thought, as they are fighting each other to get through the hole. One of them elbows the other in the face to triumphantly walk headfirst into one of the ceiling spider's mouth. As the pushed back goblin laughs at the first, it is pushed forward by the next in line and into the waiting spiders as well. The rest of the goblins don’t fight to enter but are just trying to shove everyone in front of them forward. Despite their numbers, my plan is working! In this short amount of time we have killed probably 16 ish goblins without any losses! Some goblins try to charge with their spears held above their heads, but with me now advising the Voice, the ceiling spiders won’t impale themselves anymore. Instead, we leave those ones to the spiders on the side to grab. 

30ish goblins later, and still no casualties. With each goblin slain, an increasing amount  of awe and gratitude radiates from The Voice. I smile (I think so anyways. I don’t know if my mouth is capable of that anymore, but I certainly have the equivalent feeling of a smile) knowing that my plan helped grow The Collective….!?!?! What the hell!? Why would I ever feel so content that I am helping these cannibalistic monsters grow? They probably eat everything, no questions asked. Panicking, I watch as my little barricade explodes outward revealing a goblin that stands twice as tall as the others, is armed with a spiked bone club with one arm and carrying a custom made goblin shield. By custom made, I mean the shield is made up of two goblin torsos speared together by a pointy bone. 

The spiders, like an outdated assembly line, try to grab the hobgoblin (That’s my guess anyways. I must’ve been quite the gamer in my past life to know so many random fantasy facts.). Instead of being able to do any meaningful damage, that one unlucky spider monster gets shield bashed into paste. I yell frantically (mentally, in pictures) to The Voice to leave the big goblin to be distracted by three spiders and send the rest into the tunnel to block the remaining goblins. By the time I finish transmitting my new plan, two more spiders have joined team gooey mess, but I have successfully gotten the plan somewhat back under control. My hope is while I use three spiders to distract the hobgoblin, the rest can finish off the basic goblins and join up so we can swarm the big guy. 

Trying to kite (gamer term used to lead stupid monsters in circles where they will cause little to no harm while simulataneously dealing damage to them) the hobgoblin is turning out to be fairly simple, though it may be more accurate to call it bothering. The amount of harm we are doing to it is about as lethal as a small dog biting an ankle. I am directing the three spiders to take turns snapping the hobgoblin’s legs with its claws from behind then immediately running away. Without fail these small snaps get the big oaf’s attention and cause it to switch targets. Feeling optimistic once again, I am quickly filled with dread as I look down the hallway. Without me directing the spiders they have reverted back to the tried and true tactic of having one suicide spider followed up by a face eater. They finished off the goblins in the hall, but it looks like only two spiders remain to attack the hobgoblin. 

Well, this kiting tactic is slow, but we are at least being an annoyance. With five spiders total to distract this thing, we may just be able to survive until reinforcements get here, even if we lose a few spiders to lucky smashes. 

Minutes pass, a spider dies. No reinforcements in sight.

Another minute another spider squashed, still no help...

I guess its not so stupid, its getting better. Only two left now, and then I will have to go in…

I watch as the last spider dies… I didn’t join in to help it decoy. I froze up. The realization that I can’t win paralyzed me. Instead of trying to buy more time, I let my fear of death control me and hide behind the pile of goblin corpses. The hobgoblin tilts its head back and bellows in triumph as the last of those who pestered him have been reduced to gooey bits. But it stops abruptly.

I did it. I succeeded. Waves of relief like I had never known flow through my shaking body as I see hundreds of soldier bugs swarm in from the ceiling. How do I know they are soldiers? Well, they each stand as tall as the hobgoblin, have 8 scythe legs each, and are covered by what I assume is hardened armor, unlike me and my smooshed worker friends. Note that these one have legs that are more ant-like rather than spider-like, and they have giant chainsaw like pinchers in front of their mouths. Disgustingly eager to watch these monsters tear that big stupid goblin apart, I am betrayed, shocked, angered, and horrified at The Voice’s next order.

“FIGHT!” it commands me.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!?!