502 M06
The canon tyranids were done dirty by their instincts. The ravenous hunger that drove them didn't allow for many higher tactics, but more importantly, it drove the pace of everything the tyranids did.
Of particular note was gestation time. Do you know why space marines overmatched essentially all tyranid units of equivalent size, and only started meeting their match with bioforms at least half again as big? I'll give you a hint, it wasn't the superior engineering capabilities of humanity. It was all about the development time. Tyranids made so many compromises to meet their self imposed deadlines. The fact of the matter was, tyranids consumed a world within a hundred days or so for large, well defended worlds, and the vast majority of the units used in the assault were born on the surface during the invasion. To be useful at all, the larger bioforms had to be fully developed and ready to fight within seven days, and the smaller ones within two. While such biological acceleration of growth is certainly possible, you have to give up so many other tradeoffs to do it.
The sheer innovation possible when not working to such an impossibly short deadline is staggering. Case in point, I was having loads of fun helping humanity uplift the matouli and the huzo on accelerated timescales to meet the augmented humanity on a more even basis.
The average human adult was now just over two meters tall, but still had strength more than proportional with ancestral humans. In fact, despite having better than ancestral dexterity and fine motor skills, humans were now slightly stronger than the great apes optimized for strength, like gorillas. That being said, there was a far broader range of sizes than occurred naturally, so there were still some adults shorter than 1.5 meters, and some perfectly healthy people as tall as 2.5 meters, although most chose to stick to two meters for practicality purposes.
The matouli were very slightly shorter than ancestral humans, and their current height was slowly trending up above 1.6 meters. The huzo, by comparison, were tiny, at just over 1.2m if they stretched out, like they did when gliding. They had evolved for squirrel-like bounding on all four limbs with an aerodynamic forwards facing skull when hunched over. With their powerful hind legs and wingsuit-like gliding surfaces, they could make some truly astonishing leaps now that their strength was augmented to near-human levels, and they could literally clear most smaller buildings in a single bound.
Despite my close association with humans, it was actually the huzo that were getting to know me the fastest. Without purposeful direction, the "revelation" about your friendly neighborhood hivemind (me) had turned into an informal second coming of age for humanity. Your first coming of age was when you had enough self-determination to pair with a heart, although the exact age varied slightly from species to species. Your second coming of age was when you put enough of the clues together yourself to realize that there was a third player to the game of hearts and minds. Of course, since the second metric was all about your observational abilities, there were some idiots hundreds of years old who hadn't figured it out, and some not even in their second decade that already knew. The huzo were often in the latter category, because of their preferred habitats.
As I have said before, and will happily re-iterate, gravity wells are for suckers. As humanity spread, it was silently agreed upon that humanity was in charge of the planets, moons, and major stations, I was in charge of the minor solar orbitals, including artificial space habitats. Huzo loved gliding. Their survival had often been tied directly to their maneuverability in the air, so practicing that maneuverability was deeply satisfying to them. Even ancestral huzo often climbed tall trees in order to practice as often as practical. But the best possible place for gliding in the solar system? O'Neill cylinder habitats. With an exterior diameter of about 8 km and a rotational period of about two minutes, they had about 1g of artificial gravity on the cheap. More importantly, if you launched yourself from one of the ends of the cylinder, you could glide over the lands that made up your home for more than thirty kilometers before being forced to land.
While "stack of pancakes" layered artificial gravity habitats were still common, O'Neill cylinders were incredibly popular among the huzo.
The thing was, all the minor solar orbital infrastructure was ultimately a seat of my consciousness. It helped coordinate orbits and aided in easy communication between habitats around different stars. While they were largely mechanical, especially on the exterior, there were always "maintenance access channels" that were filled with, well, me.
So while humans and matouli slowly put together the occasional bit of evidence that I was around, in the general sense, most huzo had me around, in the literal sense, and familiarity does wonders for figuring stuff like that out.
In related news, several synths had started branching out into matouli and huzo body-plans, and occasionally even odder shapes. While the body assigned them at "birth" was predetermined, it was even easier for synths to do total body reshaping than organics could manage, and humans had figured that technology out centuries ago, it was just slow and fiddly.
It was kinda relaxing watching huzo and their flying companions just gliding around artificial habitats in space, free from worries in a way that was vaguely unnatural in the 40K setting. Oh, and let me tell you, huzo air races? Something else. They had full-contact categories, team-based competitions, variations of tag that looked like chaotic swirling masses of leaves, and more.
While I still identified with humanity, I'm no longer certain that I most strongly identify with humans.