“I had thought Hathan-Commander settled on the decision I was not to meet the delegation when they boarded.”

The humanite soldier led in theory, but Skthveraach traveled now with practice through the passageways of the ship. She did not lag behind; she knew where they were going. A second soldier was trying not to make the huffing of his breath audible as he quickened step to keep up with the pair. Technically, they were an escort, but both kept their lances shouldered and slung.

“It would be kind of him.” Pale shell thinkers, a designation the Queen could not quite bring self adjust despite its half-correctness, were frantic in their movements here on the lower sections of the Palamedes. “You should remember to thank his decision to remove you from your duties, as well. Many of your siblings were clamoring for the opportunity to witness the arrival.”

Sticking near the wall, arm stretched to appear past crossroads before body followed suit, gurgling emitted from the soldier. Feet matched the pace of her claws, and the elevator was already surrounded by small crowd of other humanites when they three could view it ahead. Some hasted to step aside and away from the doors. Most simply elected to give curious or quick glances before resuming their own conversations.

“I do not know.” The soldier’s lips spread and bones were shone, affirming the Queen’s words. She turned when the doors slid up, and backed into the lift while the humanites packed themselves around her. Skthveraach was glad her claw did not tremble when, after a moment spent realizing the others were unable to reach without pushing against her, she reached to press the display for the topmost floor cargo elevator could reach. A close enough walk to observation, which was undoubtedly where the rest sought to travel.

She had grown comfortable treating the humanites as highly conversational workers, and though their nearness was yet off-putting, it was no longer disturbing provided she avoided staring at their malleable faces. She had grown accustomed to traversing the corridors and bulkheads of the Palamedes, provided she had an escort to fall back on in case of losing her scent trail. Five measures spent in the company of more and more humanites had inured her to their less appealing forms and mannerisms, allowed her to capture their thoughts and return them to her colony that had become almost smothered under the weight of the knowledge accumulated here. Five measures spent amongst them had given her a firmer, steadier control of her reactions when one brushed too near or reached to touch her without permission. It had not been long enough to ready her mind and prepare the instruments that were her lungs for the songs she would need when Hathan-Commander’s Queens arrived.

A soft but shrill pinging erupted when the elevator arrived above the holds, down in which she trusted her thinker was still overseeing the drones’ education. Or, less ‘education’; most besides the more advanced castes struggled still to register the changes to their truths, the adjustments that needed to be made to fact. Theirs was not to comprehend, but to record and catalogue. Neither she nor the thinker would be properly able to retain the vast quantities of data they were being exposed to, and until it could be carried to a proper nest or colony, they risked losing bits and pieces to distraction. It was a task she knew beyond a doubt he could be entrusted with. Nothing, as of the words she had delivered to him, was more important in his life now than this. The humanites exited first, like a fleshy current winding around her, filing out into the buzzing activity of the dozens already forming streams towards the ramps higher. She waited for them to be clear of accidental damages, then allowed her escort to take the vanguard of their path after the flow of organic waves.

A hand went from belt of the male’s shell to his helmet, but not even his polished uniform was speeding their travel. From narrower passages to the vaulted ceilings of the mess and commons, they came. Thinkers, soldiers, the blue garbs of authority and the duller browns of the servile. Viewscreens set into walls and above the tables where she had been told the humanites fed one another had already been switched to an image of the event, but the Queen did not heed it. The usual authority of her guards did not sweep the living grass, so with more deliberate clacks of mandible and loud taps of claws on metal walkways, Skthveraach cleared them a route while the male nodded.

“There is a change in our destination?”

“They will be coming to me?” She would have demanded the soldier resend his last had he been of her kind. “What is expected of me? What is the procedure for such? I was only informed of generalities. Told I would not need concern myself with anything further.”

Her other escort, a younger male if the tenderness of his flesh was any accurate indication, raised a hand to greet some shout of distant recognition. The lights were fading as the ramp stretched onwards, upwards, dimmed within the room coated in the glass portals to the beyond, and the arm was lost in a crowd of shadows.

She did not intrude as they wove harmony in their voices. Her heart already beat unsteadily, what was one more surprise to add displacement? Trust in the Hathan-Colony. The Hathan-Individual. Faces around her were alight in the glow of her star as they ascended from the heavy breachdoors to the concourse of bodies, the softer floor mirroring the green of grass. The world was a sliver at the base of smooth curved viewports, still enough to catch her breath in vents, but an afterthought under an opened and glistening ceiling revealing the space infinitely above. Like you could fall up into it and be lost, forever. Eyes were not on her world, but out into the black. To the suspended ring, like an empty Band as she wore, resting amidst the nothing.

Red lines flickered in and out of existence on a readout, a count tending downward. Time. She had known it dwindled, but there was a macabre beauty in seeing it so physically drain away. Even if she could not read nor understand such markings. Bodies swayed, hands rubbed, men and women watched rapt and focused. The outline was glowing, a faded teal of the sky, pulsing in growing power. Smaller craft, barely visible on the voided backdrop, buzzing about it like anthophites to a hive. Forms still rose to cram the platform, but a hush had taken them. An anticipatory stillness.

This was what they had come for. This had been their purpose. Distance was a strange thing here in the inky black, but Hathan-Commander had told her that despite how it seemed one could stretch both scythes and hold the ring close, ships larger than the Palamedes itself could slip unhindered through it. Layers of square cut sheets rolled against one another, constructs which could birth power in processes she yet still could not fathom made racing charges along cords looped in spiral through internal loop. It would not be halted. It would not be stopped. All she could do was watch, unable to feel that beating blue energy as sparks and light began to erupt off its synthetic carapace, but matching its ever quickening pace with her heart. The stars distorted. Like a ripple, the center distended and began to waver. Red lines ran down to nothing as the humites chanted as one. Seven. Six. Five. Space was going white and golden at the borders. Four. Three. Two. One of her eyes focused to her planet, her entire world, all but hidden by the curvature of the ship. Wondered if they could see from below, if they gazed up without comprehension to the new light gleaming brilliant in the beyond. Pulse. Stretch. Rings spun out of control.

One.

In that instant, between the sections of the circular plates, she was certain she could glimpse a path into the endless. A star went from speck, to line which stretched and grew until it was an artificial horizon contained. There was no blinding flash, no rupture of energy spewing outward. The edges of the circle distorted the black, and hid what should have been visible away. And instead, through the center of the wildly rotating rings, something was there that had not been before. A circle. An orb. A world of green and blue, of white poles and vast landmasses, coated in dots of light which stretched all across its surface. And the glow of a star, yellow and grand, sending its rays through this hole in space. This passage. This gate.

Screaming, roaring, clapping and cheers tore the silence to pieces, and Skthveraach reared upward in alarm. Humanites were clasping one another and flailing their arms as their shrieks echoed from the walls and windows. Her translator was vibrating so violently that she felt her throat constricted by the cavalcade of inputs slamming to her one after the other, and was about to turn it off when someone began smacking her leg.

The older of the two escorts shouted as he gazed up. Even the accidental extending of her scythes, if only just, in alarm had not been enough to draw more than the occasional glance.

“IT IS VERY LOUD. PAINFUL. COULD THEY BE TOLD TO CEASE-“

His grasper jabbed out beyond the deck, and the diminutive craft orbiting the now functional gateway eased away. There was nothing behind the ring, she knew, she had seen. It did not stop the first ship, seen growing in the distance, from slipping through. Then the second. But it was the third, its prow rounded and given a mirror’s sheen, which gave Skthveraach a momentary doubt as to whether it would fit through the portal. The doorway between distance, rather than physical barrier. It reminded her of a lumbrite, somehow. A fat ovular length, coated in chitin rather than soft meat, wiggling its way through a hole just large enough for its bulk. It’s hull was smooth and polished, but a hundred sharp spires and spikes protruded from all across it, making it seem like it had been penetrated by dozens of sharp, metal spears. How many more awaited beyond?

Cheers persisted, but began to quiet as the ship’s musician sung out for attention from above. Volume faded, groans and protests were raised, but already feet were shuffling towards the ramp. Much to the chagrin of those who were halfway up, now forced to turn around.

The hand was removed from her leg, though the unpleasant warmth of contact lingered. A name. She hurried to add it to the database, her pulse dropping back from its state of alarm as the soldier gazed on to the rounded and spikey mass all but freed of the gate. Small bursts of flame were spat from its sides, its underbelly, and a glow could be seen even from its fore as it glided seamlessly forward. Her body was still ringing from the tumultuous sounds. Skthveraach pushed through it.

“There are many Queens on your world?” Hathan had been cagey in his replies. The soldier was not a thinker, not a leader, but perhaps it held knowledge. “Many who hold positions of authority and leadership?”

“Relay drones. It is reasonable. For a species as widespread as yours, information must be gathered to travel up this ‘chain’ in timely manner. That your greatest Queen may deliberate.”

The observation deck was almost desolate now, save a handful of other soldiers who had begun to wander near ramp’s entrance. Forming lines upon either side, their own commands to follow. A last look to the planet through the ring was all Skthveraach was afforded before it was snuffed out, the warp of the stars turned to rightness against the silhouette of the vessel growing ever larger towards them. Species. Planet. Skthveraach-Colony. All encompassed withing a broad, almost dismissive waving of hand. ‘All this’. She watched the spiked exterior of the half-and-then smaller vessel draw near, come to halt, and for its egg-like escorts with their own protrusions and ridges to disappear beneath the slope of the Palmedes.

“Your conversation has been welcome. I believe we should cease it now, and prepare for the arrival.” The nod made was agreeable. The observation deck, devoid of all but armored and readied humanites. Skthveraach looked on, thought, and then moved from the side of room towards the cresting of its end. To the head of the flanking lines the soldiers had formed, waiting. Awaiting. Expectant silence stretching out across them.

“Hathan-Commander, fleet be your step. You told me they would not-“

Her Band shuddered still. ‘Remember what she was told’, as though the Hathan had given extensive instructions. Politeness. Deference. Speak when spoken to. And never, under any circumstance, interrupt. As he just had. Composer weave meaning to her music. Her claws flexed and curled. She looked to the others in their upright readiness, and to her own escorts who had unslung and gripped lances across their cores. Pushing from six to four legs, Skthveraach had barely the time to get her front half raised, feeling the glass ceiling brush her antennae, before the doors once more slid open and a thundering stepping of many feet in boots filled the deck. Steady breathing. Scythes fully retracted. She was not ready, but the time was now.

Snapping of arms. Thrusting of weapons. Outstretched and offered, the mere dozen remaining soldiers lining path from ramp tightened up as of one mind. A display the Queen had not believed such creatures capable of. But their uniformity was only a precursor to the rise of figures up to stand beneath the stars. She saw shells of amber first, thought for a brief moment these were the ones she had awaited. Like the soldiers of the Palamedes, but heavier and with lances both taller and wider. Armor that swelled around their limbs and protruded from their shoulders. They led procession, but parted to fill the gaps in the ranks of bodies, and Skthveraach realized in an instant she had been foolish.

Behind them were three. Three humanites, a female with paired males, and the Hathan-Commander at their side. Had she thought they would be larger, towering over their drones? Had she expected their power to emanate from them as a mist? Their shells were laden with signets and insignia, silver and gold binds hooked from shoulder to sash, and their garb was of intricate patterns and flowing length. They wore treasures, yes, and they were adorned in wealth unimagined. But they were humanites, the same as the others. Yes, and no. The others could not open holes in the sky and order fire to consume her world. Pay attention. Look at their eyes, cold and steady and unflinching. Be wary.

Richly, a deep and mellow tone came from one of the males. Hair, grey and long, grew freely from his features and tied below the hole of his mouth. She had never seen such before amongst the smoother skin of the humanites. He looked to Hathan to confirmation. In a coat that made her look more squared pillar than humanite, the female did not deviate. Yellow eyes, almost glowing from perfectly shaped sockets, were boring holes into the Queen’s carapace. The final man inspected the room, the soldiers. Anything, anywhere, but her.

Names. Her vents hissed as she quick inhaled, and her antennae lowered, ready to input the next and any others to come as Hathan signalled with three fingers to the line of soldiers.

The shout was indeterminate, but the command was obeyed without hesitation. Lances were lowered, struck down beside each, and arm now freed from burden hovered in formal declaration before each and every chest.

The vernacular was off, and she struggled with the idea that what was happening, wasn’t. A secret? A hidden truth. Hathan took a stoic step backwards, and she realized his outfit had changed slightly. His hands were covered in white cloth. His suit seemed grander. The thinner man yet avoiding her direction, this Supreme Arbiter, fixed a look on the Hathan at his designation. Her claws curled about her limbs, and there was strain along her thorax from how deeply she bowed her head and upper half to the ensemble. Which was the most senior? No way to determine. Single none out, disrespect none.

“I greet you, and bid you be welcome in my fields. May your songs and voices lift you to the Composer’s side.” She could think of no more formal a declaration of friendship. Ambers in the lines of soldiers did not tremble, did not turn their heads, but she saw the way their eyes strained to better view her without breaking their stances. If the Queens, these Admirals and Arbiter, shared in such surprise, it went unshown. Unflinching, the grey-haired humanite stepped forward and, removing the circular covering from his head, set arm hard before his core as the soldiers yet held.

She waited. He was silent. It was as much permission to speak as she would think, and she slowly raised from her bow to catch sight of Hathan’s quick and short nods of permission. The Admiral’s arm fell back to his side, and cap was replaced on his head, when Skthveraach was fully upright.

“Your songs are often confusing to me, to my people. The Band, this translator, assists me in harmonizing with your intents.” Her mandibles made to click, but she consciously stopped herself before the habit struck. “I know you are powerful leaders of the humanites. I know you are here to assess us. My colony. My world. I fold my scythes, and prepare myself to aid you in this task.”

Throaty sounds came from the man, but it was the woman behind him who spoke next.

Hathan had told her to expect this question, one of the few he advised would appear for certain. She had prepared accordingly.

“A Queen is the single authority of a Colony. Colonies are composed of one or more nest locations. Nests are strengthened and kept stable by birthing queens, who will relay the will of the Queen to the drones in that territory. Skthveraach-Colony is comprised of one brooding nest, two fungal nests, a gathering nest, and the nest from which we were birthed. A second brooding nest was destroyed in our battle against humanite soldiers.” Wrinkles appeared in the female’s skin, and there was a morbid twitching within one of her golden eyes. As though small dials were winding tight under the wetness. “Before my departure from the planet, at the time of my nest’s destruction, Skthveraach-Colony was of approximately 79,000 menial drones, 36,000 soldiers, and 2,100 specialist castes. Combined, my two vassal colonies comprise an additional 55,000 menial drones, 21,000 soldiers and 600 specialist castes.”

”

“…Yes.” It had not been a question, yet a break in the establishing melody had been given for reply. Her head strayed towards the Commander, but he was with almost fanatic dedication ensuring his face was turned from her. When she looked back to the thinned mouth of the one called Kamenev, it was only just that she noticed how the Arbiter watched between her and Hathan.

“My nest was attacked, and the defenses seen to. After-“ She had almost sung of capture. Praise be that the creatures were unable to pick up on her stutter. “After I was brought here, I was taught of your people. It is of clearest sky to me that to combat you would be death, and a silence to all things. I did not seek conflict. I do not seek conflict.”

“I…” In what reality and circumstance would such occur? If they faced her on the ground, without their weapons and ships, perhaps a battle could be won. Perhaps many. What could be done against billions? “Do not understand the question.”

Compliance in her voice was not mirrored in that gaze which drilled clear through the Queen’s chitin as though it were gel. No part of him had moved as he bid silent his fellow, but the established dominance was clear. Skthveraach made sure to better orient herself square to the foremost Admiral, the authority here.

Regretful. A good word. A very good word. She could not stop the click of her mandibles in time, and cursed inwardly. There was an almost kindly nature in the way the humanite spoke. A reassuring strength. His stance, his lack of fear; the male knew his own power. But he did not lord it above her. He did not need to. Skthveraach knew the weight she carried here, the obligation. That weight seemed ever lighter.

“We are ready, and eager, to learn from you, Oskar-Admiral.” Hathan stiffened. A faltering worry blossomed within the Queen’s head. But amused chuffing of air was all that escaped the aged humanite, the adornments of his chest clinking together.

Both Admirals jerked as they turned to the thinner, stretched man. His skin was off-colored, a tint not quite pink compared to theirs, and there was a richness to his voice. Not at all like the barbed crudeness of the Kamenev.

The female’s face was writhing across her skull, and glistening maw was halfway split when the Arbiter continued.

A gloved hand was raised, and Skthveraach could not help but think the posture of the female Admiral was one of a mantodite about to lunge and strike.

The Admiral turned. Hathan thrust a hand to his brow, and Skthveraach quickly took it as signal to dive into another bow. A bow she held as Kamenev followed behind the male, while the Arbiter unhurriedly let his eyes do the following for him. Waiting until the amber soldiers had snapped their own respectful gestures and begun to depart, before facing himself to Queen. At first she thought he may speak. But instead, hands lain on his legs, the Arbiter too offered a shallow bow to her. His eyes losing sight. His neck exposed. She did not dare raise until he had righted, and left. Only the soldiers of the Palamedes and the Commander left upon the deck.

“It is greater than well.” Her excitement slipped into her music, and she did not try to contain it. Relief. Relaxation. Their Queen, this ‘Emperor’, had personally welcomed her, them, her people. The fighting, the battle, had been seen as regrettable. “You were right. The Pod, was right. They will not destroy my people.”

He was not baring the bones of his head. His face was heavy. She could not understand why, but remembered then what else she had been told.

“You should not worry, Hathan-Commander. Your people are kinder than I could have hoped. Your damage was great, but your gifts, they have been greater. I have been told you too are in danger for your actions, but you should not let this burden your steps and crush at your lungs. I shall repay all you have done for us this measure, and all the measures to come. The deaths have not been needless. The losses have been for purpose.” Careful. So careful. Humanites, as her people, savored contact. As she had seen others do, and with unfathomable grace, her frontal claw was brought to drape against the humanite’s shoulder. “Thank you, Hathan-Commander.”

He looked at her. Just, looked. One of the soldiers had jumped slightly when she touched the man, looked about to see if any others would react, but none did. The shell, the fabric the man wore, was almost pleasant on the underside of her claw. Like stubbly grass, or a soft sand. She felt the energy spilling from her, and could not understand why the male looked at her as he did. His lips did curl up. The encouraging expression, the smile. But unlike how he had before, there was something missing in it. Something wrong.

Reaching, he touched the plating of her claw, and she removed it slowly.

“My thinker handles them. I will remain here, with your permission. I wish to look upon my world, just a while longer.” He did not protest. He had no reason to. Her escorts remained, almost immediately yammering about something called ‘honor’ and how fortunate they were once the Commander and is own retinue had departed. She switched off her translator. Letting the meaningless noise wash over her as she gazed out, out to the stars and sun. It was worth it. It had all been worth it.