She did not need to wait long.

The first change came upon the first measure after her disarmament. Sleep came easily to her here, so easily that she had begun to suspect it was not a wholly natural thing. The first fade she had been contained here, Skthveraachk had stared out and watched the clamoring creatures until she had lost track of the beating of her heart. To sleep unconnected from the colony was unimaginable; to sleep unconnected and surrounded by enemies, impossible. But she had slept. Awoke, to find the lumbrites in her clear-walled cavern. Again and again, every rise. No matter how she struggled to remain alert, she would collapse as though suddenly drained of all energy. When she had fallen to dream after the fledgling conversation, the next rise had brought another helping of lumbrite carcasses, of course. That, and the sight of her armor scattered about the cave. The cave outside of her own private cavern.

Antennae slapped the barrier as one, the thumping noise similar enough to the sounds the Pod had used to grab her attention, causing one of the creatures to spasm and take step back from its table. A table that shone from below with the same light that beamed from on high, with sparkling gems that flickered and blipped with color, but a table all the same. A table on which one of her bisection legplates was turned upright, so the creature could pick and prod at its surface with shining clawlike tools. The pale shell’s head, where eyes and unmasked hole of a mouth were, contorted and pulled. She waited until it had leant over the meticulously crafted and engraved armor once more before slapping the barrier again, and let out a chitter as the creature spasmed again. It waved its arms at her, and marched off to bellow to the others near the pain rock.

All around the room, she saw others feeling and poking at parts of her combat wear like scavengers picking at the remains of the kill. Sneaking in to the nest to run off with morsels unearned. They had taken her armor as she slept, and now wiggled their graspers over it and sullied its story forever. And she saw the pale shell she had driven away from its work waving its arms to its cross-armed superior by the pain rock, who made sure she was looking before raising an arm high in warning over the surface of the stone. Skthveraachk made sure it saw her slap the invisible wall once more with antennae before backing a length away from the barrier. Risky, and foolish. The thinkers would have chastised her and prescribed a portion of jelly from the scentcrafters to calm their Queen. Instead, she was treated to the aroma of decaying lumbrite, and settled back onto her belly to watch as the creatures defaced the lineage of the finest armor ever crafted by Hollowcore. Their stink would never come out, presuming they did not destroy the pieces outright. She scanned the room beyond until she found the two working at her helm, and made sure they knew she was staring at them.

“*^&(*, *^&(**^&(* *^&(* *^&(**^&(*.”

“*^&(*, *^&(**^&(*.”

Entryway opened. The sliding formation of stone at the back of the cave beyond, through which she could glimpse a space of purest ivory, bathed in green light and shimmering like heat in the air. The only entry or exit from this particular section of their nest, and Skthveraachk doubted she would be able to fit through even if she compressed her body to its most narrow. Through it wiggled the Pod, its animated motions excited and wild. At least, the Queen presumed it excitement. Strong emotions or desires were reinforced with volume and quick movements in these creatures, but whether those desires were for better or worse was still foreign to her. Alongside the Pod, a creature unremarkable to the rest of its kin strode. Its flesh more wrinkled perhaps, pose and posture straighter. A shell of a strange and different make…

“*^&(* *^&(**^&(*!”

One of the soldiers flanking entryway let out bellowed bark as the Pod and her creature passed. And as of one mind, the armored guards posted at edges of the cavern beyond went rigid. Raised arms, slapped their graspers against their heads, and let them there as though their meat had become bonded together. Even the pale shells glanced up from their fiddling and fondling of her possessions, if only briefly. The form alongside the Pod made motion with his own grasper, muttered out some brief murmur, and the soldiers fell back to their previous stances. Skthveraachk watched the exchange end, and then doubled her focus upon the new arrival.

Blue shell. Deep, deep blue, like the crystalline pathways below the Cathedral of the Remembering. It walked not quite side by side with the Pod, but slightly behind, listening as it spewed out imbalanced sounds. Unlike the bulbous faded blue growths from the pale shell’s heads, this new one had a sharper crown. Flatter, the same color as the rest of its shell, but affixed with symbols of gold. Similar small gems which caught the light set into its torso. Decorations? Symbols of power? Or some manner of defense; their rocks had powers of flight and fire and pain, why not protection as well? Perhaps this was their Queen? Three of her eyes dedicated themselves solely to holding on the new arrival as it, after speaking to the Pod and those by the pain rock, approached with neither hesitation nor apparent fear the wall of her enclosure.

“*^&(*, *^&(**^&(*.”

The Pod swayed way alongside the blue shell. Tapped the lanky, curled end of its arm against the barrier, for attention. Skthveraachk gave it, readily. She lamented the loss of her armor, but this colony was not responsible. It was the other, that folded-armed skyturned and his kind, who would have her ire. The Pod wished to communicate further. The Queen had no choice but whether to oblige graciously, or oblige with petulance. No resistance without knowledge first. She chose the former.

“*^&(**^&(*, *^&(* *^&(*. *^&(**^&(*, ‘*^&(*ck *^&(**^&(*ooo.’”

Traces of song, barest hints of rhythm. The Pod spoke to the blue shell, but it was the blue shell who curled graspers and folded arms to the first joint. Straightened its squishy body to a great tree’s firmness. Angled his arms, and mimicked depature’s thanking.

“*^&(*cnk *^&(**^&(*ooou.”

Perhaps it was a fatigue of the mind, perhaps it was the frenzy eating at thoughts, or perhaps it was the momentary clarity of absurdity. Stuck, Composer knew where, buried beneath the surface of some untouched corner of the world, her protections peeled, her colony dead, who knew how many measures from losing her mind in an inky solitude she feared would consume her should she look directly into it… and a ringing song of humor filled her. Billowed soft like the breeze carrying tastes of Jhnekyaal’s Fields when the sun was halved by the horizon. The blue shell bumbled the song like a newborn, and the wrongness of the formal thanking before polite departure, here where they had interpreted as some kind of greeting formality, struck her with mirthful music. It was a failure of communication, but she understood the intent. Sky take it, then; she mirrored the motion, and sung.

“Thank you.”

The Pod flapped its graspers together and made wet noises. The blue shell made no such movements, dropping its arms back to its sides and watched her. Examined her, she felt, though grasping at its thoughts seemed like trying to catch a river. But it too turned away, as beats passed to bars, and gave that attention to the Pod instead as the pair flapped the meat of their heads and resumed their primitive sounds. Skthveraachk waited, keeping her eyes on the blue shell, until it gave the confirming bobs as the Pod knocked on the unseen wall. Permission? Interesting.

“*^&(*. *^&(**^&(*.”

Scooping. Beckoning, then a press of the graspers down towards the floor. More new gestures. The pale shells beyond were watching, waiting themselves for something as their work on her armor was paused. Scoop, press downwards. Slow, deliberate. Antennae tapped their way across the surface unseen, a reflexive request for clarity that the creatures of course would not understand. She was already near them, near the wall, so unless they intended her shove way through the invisible barrier, the beckoning was senseless. Adjusting her head, Skthveraachk butted it at the highest plate against the wall, just to be sure. The Pod recoiled, though the blue shell remained unmoving, and shook from side to side.

“*^&(*… *^&(*! *^&(*, *^&(**^&(* *^&(**^&(*!”

A call, a bark was thrown by the Pod across the room beyond. Three eyes stayed on the blue shell; one followed its sound to a pale shell by rock. A bobbing of confirmation, and a touch down at stone. And then the floor started moving.

The Pod repeated the beckoning and downward shoves, but Skthveraachk had already spun about to ensure her scythes were forward and unprotected abdomen was guarded by barrier. A circle, an ovoid section of the floor was sinking before her. Not like the sands when prey burrowed, there were no grains or sifting, it simply lowered as though the slippery sheen was an entirely separate piece of construction. Fit seamlessly into the rest of the unnatural cavern, sliding down under some unseen power. However it was not the sight of the enclosure’s changing that brought Skthveraachk’s mandibles open and her scythes ready. It was the smell. There, under the scent of decaying lumbrite and unfamiliar sourness from the growing portal into whatever lay below; colony markings. An unfamiliar colony. There was one of her kind in that hole, and it was coming closer.

Her humors were gone like swallowed light and formality lost to instinct. Heavy banging came from behind her, no doubt the Pod trying to garner her attention, and she ignored it entirely. Male, unfamiliar caste markings. He would already have smelled her; if he was a soldier, she would need to act as soon as his head emerged and go for the first strike. Overhead swing, pin him to the flow with the first blow and decapitate with the second. Right arm first, in case her leg gave out. She let a few drips of warning hostility fall to the floor from her gaster. The enclosure was saturated with her scent and claim, but spraying a bit extra to ensure the male knew he was intruder here was a net of safety. Breathe in, breathe out. No point in questioning what the creatures intended. She was a Queen. This pen was hers. Invaders would be destroyed. Whirring of…wheels? Something circular, something spinning, was bringing the male up. His antennae appeared, flattened back, before the rest of his head. His posture was low, is frontal legs folded, and by the consuming sky, it seemed as though he had emptied his sacks entirely to form a veritable puddle of submission. Skthveraachk held her strike, and her song boomed with such magnified force it startled the Queen herself.

“My music is of death and my voice is greater than yours. This place is mine. Do you come to take, or do you submit?”

“I do not come to take. My voice sings here unwillingly. This place is yours. I do not seek it.” His accent was thick, but the curl of his body was universal in its meaning. Skthveraachk did not recognize his melody, but the brown of his carapace placed him from lands far in the alto of her own nests. She did not relax the raise of her limbs, but ceased emitting the attack signs. Breathe in, breathe out.

“Designation and colony.” His gaster was deflated, emptied of fluids that slid about his feet, but his limbs looked sturdy. Mandibles clean, stubby, but groomed for more than just hauling. He spoke clearly, fearful, but without hesitation when pressed for answers.

“Ghescktyeelh Scout, Ghescktyeelh-Colony. The colony is not here. I am…without my colony.”

“Skthveraachk Queen, Skthveraachk-Colony. I am kept by these creatures, like… milked phidos. I am without my colony.” She struggled to convey proper meaning, as it seemed the scout did as well. He could not have been here long; he was remarkably unified for being taken from his colony. The male gave pause, and lessened his curl tentatively. The Queen folded her scythes back to her body, not quite enough to blunt them, but in acquiescence of the scout’s bodily expression of submission.

“You are Skthveraachk War Queen?”

Her scythes were back out in a heartbeat, the melody of her breathing ruptured into spasms as she slammed the points down into the floor to either side of the prostrated body. The male snapped his mandibles at her graspers, but had the control enough to stop himself from making contact with her body. It shamed her; her reaction was childish and immediate. There was no malice nor intended insult shown in the scout’s body. He had not spoken the barb as mockery. She curled the claws on her legs inward, began to reach for his nearest limb, when a bolt of lightning pierced through her and erupted her mind in pain signals. Brief, a half-beat of heart, but enough to cause her body to seize and spasm, and for the male to skitter back in confusion at the wild movements. Skthveraachk swung her gaze around once her breath had returned to her, to pain rock, where one of the pale shells was looking not to her, but to the blue shell and Pod. The latter of which pointed and raised volume to uncomfortable levels, not at the Queen, but at the pale shell itself. Peel them all, was she not supposed to converse with her own kind, now? The Pod saw her look, and clumsily repeated the departing thanks with arms and tilt. Waved towards the scout who had now taken a position as far from the Queen as the enclosure would allow, the floor having re-formed itself as though hole had never been present. Skthveraachk took the thanking as some attempt at politeness, some kind of juvenile submission of impropriety perhaps, and left them to their squabbling. Returned her own focus to Ghescktyeelh as he eyed her warily.

“I am sorry. The creatures inflict pain on me at will, without touch and through walls. I am Skthveraachk Queen. You will use my designation properly. You know of my song.”

“Ghescktyeelh knows of your song. The chanting warned of the new creatures and was sung to us from our allies. It is known you were the first to fight against them. It is known that you are dead.” Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. A sigh. Relief, even if fleeting, rippled from her lungs and out her sides. She had not questioned whether Kthcvahlaatch-Colony would spread her message, but Shlthvelhneekch and Ckhehnvraahll had only ever been cordial in their relationship. Tolerant. That they had accepted her messengers and words was relief, but that they had heeded and passed the music on was little short of miraculous. The scout felt her relief, and his own guarded stance slowly slackened. There would be no combat here. “Nests to our faderise were attacked. Ghescktyeelh recited your song on while preparing our defenses. My Queen composed brief hymn of sorrow for your loss. And praised your death used to save others.”

“I am not dead. You are not dead. Is my colony dead?” She had begun reaching for the male again when she bid herself halt. Caught up in the desire for information on what this drone knew, she had almost forgotten the demands of the creatures. They did not wish to enslave her and they did not wish to eat her, but they owned this place, and owned her in their way. Skthveraachk looked to the pain rock and found the pale shell wiggling in place. Gripping either side of the stone, but arms left unraised. The Pod had taken a position nearby the other creature, torso thrust forward, blabbering down to the blue shell who had not moved from its spot near her walls since it had entered. Her gaze shifted between the three in turn, waiting to see which would make move. The Pod made the bobbing motions and waved at her… but only after waiting for the blue shell to utter a brief burble of sound. Interesting. Still, permission was permission. She strode towards the male scout, extending leg. He met her with only moment’s hesitation, letting hairs rake together as they made their songs unified.

“I do not know.” His accent was already fading with the contact made, his intent far clearer. “It was not of importance to my role.”

“Is your colony dead?”

“I do not know.” His antennae graced across her head, boldly, but she returned the touch in understanding. Shared grief. “The Queen ordered scouts observe the hostile creatures’ lines to prepare burrow ambushes, as is done in the stories-…as your colony sung into the stories. The enemy was spotted at seventy lengths.” Ghescktyeelh scouts could see beyond sixty lengths? Their colony must have had greatly successful broods these past cycles. “Their spitters fired on us. My pattern fell back. The ground flew up at us, like the dirt was spewing fire. I fell, and my song fell silent. I awoke in a place like this, have remained here for two measures. A place like this but, smaller. Walls that could not be seen yet could be touched. Kept by these creatures for food, for biomass, with others around me.”

“Others?” The touch of their antennae was broken as she brought head higher, feeling hope fill her. “You have seen others?”

“Yes. In a vast space, below.” His confirmation was stronger now, and his composure had all but returned. She tasted of his displeasure at how quickly he had spread his markings of surrender, but she dragged leg across his and dismissed the emotion. She had been struggling with the frenzy doubtless the same as he, and there was little care for the difference in colonies at this moment. He was reporting, as was his role. She absorbed and questioned, as was her role. The harmony was crafted. “One to each room. Five by five lengths. Sometimes larger. Twenty-two rooms that I was able to see.”

“Did you recognize the colonies. Did you spot any other Queens.” She was not alone. That alone was cause for a joyous hymn, but she refused to let celebration overpower her focus. A tapping was coming from the wall again, and she could not ignore the prompting of the creatures for long without risking pain. Ghescktyeelh felt her urgency, and his tempo doubled.

“Yes. Two from Ghescktyeelh. One from Ckhehnvraahll. Three from Jhahncklaan. I do not know the others.” Six entire colony lengths, more than ten nests away from the furthest edge of her own territory. Skthveraachk had been right to fight and right to choose death; these creatures traveled at speeds unprecedented across the world. “There were no other Queens seen. But two nesting drones below chant loss and mourning. They sing they had been taken with their Queen. That she was lost to them. The have begun to fall to discord.”

“The chorus must be maintained. Have none lifted voices together?” Over twenty drones below, possibly more. Taken and penned here, to be examined as she was? To be learned from? Without Queen, all would lose selves to the frenzy in a matter of measures, wasted and lost. Their roles were not of knowledge, they would not be able to comprehend even the need to communicate with these creatures, let alone begin to engage in it. The scout’s tone was forlorn, a mourning he tried to mask under strength of voice.

“There is no Queen. There is no colony. There is no escape. Why are we not dead? Why do they not make slaves of us?”

“They do not wish to consume. They do not wish to make slaves.” Saying it out loud, it sounded even more absurd than in her head. The knocking was growing insistent, and the Queen began to turn from the growing confusion of the male’s movements. “They attempt communication. To join our song. I do not know why. They speak now. There is pain if you refuse. You will follow my instructions.”

“Received, War Q-… Received, Skthveraachk Queen.” He did not mean offense. She repeated such thrice over, facing the see-through barrier. It was the designation he had been taught. He did not mean offense. Now was not the moment for pettiness. He did not mean offense. Ghescktyeelh rose to height and took place of attendancy alongside her. A bit clumsy, but for a scout who had likely never served in such role and had only tales to work with, it was more than serviceable. The blue shell was making noises, but it was the Pod knocking arm against the barrier. Waiting until Skthveraachk had focused down upon it to make the beckoning movements. Wide and sweeping.

“It wishes me to approach. Remain where you are.”

“Received.”

She began to walk forward. The Pod near instantly shook from side to side, and pointed to her first, and then to the scout. Repeated the sweep and scoop. So, they had brought him here for this? To, what, learn from her these simple demands? Very well.

“It wishes you accompany me. Approach. Do not touch the wall.”

“Received.” There was… not doubt, not exactly. She was a Queen, he was a scout, her role was to understand and order and his to obey. But she was not his Queen. Yet there were few other options here, and the male understood as much quickly. He did not wish for pain. Ghescktyeelh fell into step beside her, and stopped as one with her movements when they reached a length from glass. Activity beyond the barrier. Her imposing and impressive protections and garb forgotten like meatless castoffs following a feeding, eyes and heads of the pale shells once more turned to her activities while the Pod flapped and slapped its graspers together with cracking noises. Most unsettling. The blue shell spoke again, made motion with its hand, and the Pod bobbed before pointing its finger to the opposite end of enclosure. Skthveraachk looked, and saw nothing. Raised her grasper to point to herself, then to Ghescktyeelh, questioningly. When the Pod bobbed again, a small click escaped the Queen.

“It wishes us to move to the other side of cavern.”

“Received.” A pause, a struggle to tune music in a melody that would not offend. She appreciated the care the male took. “Why, does it wish this?”

“I do not know. Accompany me.”

“Received.” Her colony was unified. Their voices were one. The scout was not of her colony, and his question was sound. She was more irritated at her lack of an answer than the male’s simple question. They turned, they walked, they halted, and they turned back to witness further slapping of meat as the pale shell Pod practically vibrated. Something inside the Queen began to claw distastefully at her throat when those sounds came. She was not a vassal. She was learning, and so tolerated the feeling, but she was not one to obey without question. A point to her, then to the far end of ovoid space again. But then a second point to the scout, and a point to the space square before the Pod and blue shelled superior.

“I will go to far end of enclosure. You will go in front of the Pod.”

“Clarify; what is a Pod?”

“Designate creature alongside the blue shelled being as ‘Pod’. Unclear rank, but some manner of leadership caste in the whiter tinted creatures. Primary point of communication.”

“Received. Moving to the Pod, will avoid touching the wall.” They spread out, the space making such maneuvers a touch awkward, but only a touch. She felt as though this space, this enclosure, had been designed for something of her size to move with at least a modicum of comfort. Adding another body, let alone the pile of dead flesh in ‘corner’, gave a greater sense of cramping. She readily accepted such if it meant contact with another of her kind. The Pod pointed, they moved. Sometimes together, sometimes apart, sometimes circling the area and sometimes stood side by side. And all the while, the blue shell watched in almost complete silence. Letting the Pod take the lead, letting it shout back and forth with others in the space beyond, letting them play with their powerful rocks and stones, absorbed entirely in its task of observation. Foreign, alien thing aside, it was a kind of focus Skthveraachk could understand. Could comprehend. This thing had more than a goal; it had a plan to reach it. That she could not even begin to understand what that goal was frustrated her, but she took her victories where she could get them here in this place. After what felt like bars uncountable, the Pod raised its graspers together and pressed them down towards floor. Only once, before moving away into the crowds of other creatures. Skthveraachk reached out, and Ghescktyeelh took her arm immediately. Such a simple thing, and yet she almost let out a rapturous cry after so long in solitude.

“It is finished. There is nothing further.”

“Understood. What will they do now?”

“I do not know.” But, she could guess. “It is likely they will return you to where you came from. I do not believe they will allow you to remain.” His hairs stiffened, and hers were rigid enough on their own. Still, he maintained a degree of composure.

“They do not intend to kill us. They do not intend to enslave us. I will share these truths with the others.”

“Yes.” They were not of her colony. And this threat was not to her colony. Protect the species had been her final call. If it held true out there, it remained true here. “And you must tell them a Queen is present. You must sing in unison. There can be no frenzy here. If one frenzies, others may. If these creatures see a frenzy, they may kill us. You must-“ Orders flowed naturally from her, but the scout was not of her song. Not of her mind. How much longer did she have before he was sent away? Unknowable. Now was not the moment for doubts or convention. There were no stories to guide her here. She would need to make it up as she went. “There are no other Queens present. My colony is gone from me. You will become of my colony.” His hairs were like stone, but they twitched along with his mandibles. Sacks emptied, she caught only faint whiffs of his markings, and he was unabashed in his truths. His relief, and yet, his caution.

“You welcome me to your colony? Will you make a slave of me if I refuse?”

“No. I do not craft the jelly. I do not take slaves.” She let the distaste flow through her, baring her own truth to the male. “I make vassals. I do not seek to make a vassal of Ghescktyeelh-Colony. My colony is gone from me. Your colony is gone from you. We must join our voices to endure through this danger.”

“My colony is gone from me. But my colony may not be dead. I will accept you as my Queen. But.” His stiffness did not slacken, and there was a solidness to his music. He had known he was no match for her in combat, had submitted readily. Such submission was only right. The scout’s music refused to allow such be seen as weakness of resolve. “If you are not to make a slave of me, you will allow me depart if my colony is not dead. You will allow me return to my place in my choir.”

“Accepted.” Even she was surprised by how quickly he agreed, Ghescktyeelh jerking his abdomen back as her confirmation struck him. “Hostility here is pointless. The creatures defeated one of my nests. I had five thousand. I lost with five thousand. They cannot be beaten with five thousand. We must understand them. I must gain information.” The floor was hissing again, shifting downward and splitting open to form a hole from nothing once more. It was as she expected, and the blue shell was yet watching as the Pod returned to point between the scout and the portal below, repeatedly. Insistently, though without seeming urgency. Understood. A part of her wished to test the limits of this ‘request’, but now was not the time for it. Twenty more of her kind below. If that was all there was, a single death was unacceptable. A single frenzy, catastrophic. The male was needed elsewhere.

“Return to the others. Craft a song of unity and togetherness. A Queen is present, and so all is not lost. Sing of-“ She wracked her brain for something appropriate, something they could all understand. “Sing of the Blethuuhm River. Sing of the strength in loss. The water’s diversion. The saving of the valley.”

“We compare the creatures to the waters.” There was almost humor in the drone’s intonation, yet it was coupled with understanding. “Discouraging. Appropriate. They are unstoppable. This place is like a riverbed. It is not meant for us.”

“They can be killed. We may not be able to drink the river dry. But perhaps we can change its course.” Sky take her, it was the most she could hope for. Skthveraachk traced antenna down the center of the male’s head, collected and quickly smeared what pap she could gather from her gaster across the scout to make him of her colony. Rushing, and admittedly making a mess of the procedure beneath the cold and piercing alien light. The scout did not chide her, even though she knew he had every right with how jagged her drawn lines were on his body.

“I will sing to them of the Blethuuhm River, my Queen. I will not let them frenzy.” The Pod continued to point down, and that instance was becoming harsher. They were out of time. Signing farewell, and silencing the reflexive desires to stay and guard her, she prompted the scout to the hole. The former Ghescktyeelh crawled down, his scent still strewn around the enclosure, but fading as the floor sank away with him and sealed back into place. It clacked closed, and once more, she was alone with the creatures, and her thoughts, and the pile of stinking lumbrite corpses.

The Pod folded arms and signed its generic respect. Respect and thanks, perhaps. The blue shell did not mimic it again, focused so keenly on Skthveraachk that a part of her wondered if it could spit the lightning just by staring. Trying to speak, the Pod reached out to touch the golden decorated creature, and was rebuffed when it spun about and surged from room beyond. Like a planking mushroom had sprouted legs, carrying itself stiff and straight across the plains. Displeasure or satisfaction, a duty completed or incomplete, Skthveraachk had no indication. All she knew was how oddly tired she suddenly felt as the Pod followed right behind the blue shell. Barely able to catch the soft hissing above her as legs folded beneath her form and crossed, feeling her body grow heavy and dull. It was understandable. It had been a long and tedious measure already. That she deserved a good fade’s rest was the last thought to cross her mind before the silence took her, and the Queen fell into an immediate, and dreamless, sleep.