This is a message for the Queen of Blades, the leader of the Swarm, the destroyer of Aiur, the most powerful being in the universe… my Mommy.

I pen this letter to you from beneath the rock that I call home on the surface of our homeworld, Char. It will take me several hours to scrawl this missive, partly because I want to choose my words wisely, but also because I am clawing it into the slab of hardened volcanic ash with two giant claws. It’s very time consuming.

I write because I fear for the future. If I were to step outside right now, I would see a seemingly endless wave of my fellow zerglings pulling themselves out of the local spawning pools. I would see the neighborhood ultralisk trampling a gang of roaches for practice. The sky would be filled with mutalisks heading off for swooping drills and there would be banelings rolling around my talons, glowing green with explosive bile.

It is obvious that we are preparing for war.

To write you this letter goes against every fiber in my being, my Queen of Queens. I know I must obey your will, but I am willing to deal with the most terrible psychic pain I have ever felt to get this message across to you immediately:

Every life is precious, Ms. Kerrigan!

The message seems simple enough, but I feel like you have forgotten it as of late. Surely you remember what life was like beneath the Overmind, that terrible and most cruel oppressor who, together with his cerebrates, sent us to our deaths like so many spores to the slaughter! We all pitched in to destroy because we kind of hated the bastard. Also, because we have very little free will.

I don’t pretend to know your plans for our future, oh Most Terrible One, but I have a sneaking suspicion that what you desire is not only to conquer all planets in the name of the mighty Swarm and turn this universe into a pulsating gob of purple perfection, but also that you seek revenge against those who betrayed you. As you know, anger can lead to poor strategic choices. So let’s tackle this war with a clear head, shall we?

I am a zergling. The lowest rung on the genetic ladder. I’m okay with that. I’ve resisted the urge to mutate because I’m proud of what I am. So many of my brothers believe that they exist only to distract the enemy and then pop open, covering our foes with our kiwi-colored guts. They have no ambition, thanks to you. No drive to tear apart the universe. And it’s certainly not helpful to call us ‘the meat shield’ to our faces.

When you plant psychic messages in our ganglia like “Throw yourselves into the slaughter for the glory of The Swarm” and “Die for your Queen”, what kind of behavior, exactly, are you trying to promote?

The other day I accidentally tapped into your mental link with my neighbor, a rather horrendous-looking Queen. I noticed that, beyond speaking to her far more colloquially than you do us, you showed a vested interest in her future and seemed to generally care if she lived or died. It was a refreshing change of pace.

Of course, a zergling as lowly and slithering as myself would never think to question your intentions, but don’t you think you ought to treat all members of the Swarm with the same amount of disgust and respect, no matter how much vespene gas it takes to create us?

I wish I didn’t have to rely on such a public forum to express my concerns with the way you run the Brood, but my repeated attempts to meet with you in your royal chrysalis at the top of Mount Carkrax were nixed by an Overlord with a zealot up his creep-sack.

Please don’t take any of this personally, Ms. Kerrigan. I only want what’s best for the Swarm. Victory can only come when we respect each life as if it were our own, and not just part of ruthless amalgamation of biologically advanced, arthropodal beings.

Remember: even the lowliest of larva has dreams.

Please don’t eat me.

For the Swarm,
Theodore Hadley, Zergling 715281