Or... I could just not give a shit. Which is apparently the answer. I didn't even know them, so I'm not going to miss them -- it doesn't compare at all to a friend of mine kidnapping Epoch (not really) or another friend telling me that they love me (not really on that count either) (I think). Those elicit emotional responses. Half a dozen people dying horrible, flaming deaths? Not so much.
Maybe I should change careers, and become a soldier. Or an axe murderer. Apparently, I've got the right mindset.
As an aside, it's a very bad idea to try to become the dominant member of a gestalt on two hours sleep. I spent all day drawing up plans for the invasion of Parasol (where the person who didn't really kidnap Epoch lives), instead of working on my project. Luckily, the drones are at least as loyal to their actual hive as they are to me, so they aren't going to steal the warships they'd need to carry the plan out.
...although they could have. They had a plan to, and it might have worked. This is somewhat terrifying.
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Previous stories in this universe are Space Otters:
and Glow Bugs: