“We are expected to kill … other humanites?”

The hearing was merciful in its brevity following the dogged steps which dragged her back to the Admirals. None had departed, but a few had been added. Menders clustered about the fallen amber, propped where he had struck, and the number of the lance-wielding guardians had doubled both to sides of the room and before the grand arrangement of desks. Admonishment was given, she lowered herself and sang strained apologies, the music turned to grand declarations and raucous slapping of hands as hearing came to a close. Hollow. Empty. A humanite could make the most beautiful of ballads, yet make it all a falsehood. She had been misled before in combat. Tricked by political machinations and secret alliances. Never ‘lied’ to. To share your voice, your scents, your movements, was to express the actuality of your belief. Only the frenzied could look up and sing that the sky was yellow. So, when all the blue shells had been dismissed, the wounded amber carried away, the Arbiter and Rear-Admiral accompanied away with a bow from the former and scowl from the latter; when it was but the Commander and Pod, herself, the Admiral, and a small host of ambers now with lances firmly clenched in hands, she fought to accept what she was told.

She no longer found the stretch of his face pleasing.

The Pod had launched into explanation as she always had. Silencing herself was new, though. Done as the Admiral slow-spun to face her.

Shock struck Jhenaafhur…Jennifer. Cease trying to find meaning. There was no meaning. There was no truth within their designations.

The stoic hold that grimace was beginning to wane on the Admiral’s lips, and the Pod’s own excitement faltered.

“Your Sovereignty is not a colony.” Skthveraachk had reverted to all legs down, yet it was still necessary for her head to make shallow incline down. “A colony is the many. A colony is the one. Your drones take orders from Commanders who take orders from Captains who take orders from Admirals who take orders from Emperors. They disagree. They conflict. A ship is not a colony.” She made a point to jab her antennae at Hathan. “A crew is not a colony. The Sovereignty is not a colony.”

The pleasantness of his voice was a distraction. It no longer hid the way his tone made soldiers shift behind him.

“To kill humanites who no longer follow the will of your Queen. Your Emperor. There are fifty billion of you. Perhaps one billion of us. It is hypothetical. An unknown. What assistance could we provide?”

“On the ground.” She made hard stamp of claw against the deck, and it rung metallic. “We suffered greatly against your soldiers. Your weapons. We could not defend ourselves against your fliers. We cannot destroy ships which sail the sky.”

It was his turn to give stomp of a shining foot. Information in a rush. Hathan had not spoken a word since the hearing’s end, but such was immediately changed.

The Commander was working to keep his face neutral. The Admiral could tell. Skthveraachk no longer paid care to Hathan’s discomfort, and the beat of her heart tripled as she yet processed the previous knowledge.

“My colony. From my world?” Her vents flared. “You would allow me to return to them?”

The colony. Whole. Returned once more. Her daughters, her nesting queens, her nests. How many remained? How many could be taken?

“It is not simple to reason. My nests on the planet will need protection from my enemies. If my soldiers are removed, my workers and eggs may be killed. Taken. Enslaved. I could divert perhaps eight thousand to-“

She bit her mandibles together, her legs going still as she was silenced with dismissal. That silence was made laughter at the claim, her antennae beating in frantic succession. The Commander tried to respond, but the Queen did not permit it.

“I would be forced to empty entire nests, move my queens from their chambers. Workers in the thousands to forage for the biomass needed to feed such a force, to construct a nest to contain it.”

And once more, silence. Flummoxed into state of stillness, Skthveraachk included the new data to her growing repertoire of information. Many worlds. Many people. Many workers.

“You are capable of producing a surplus of biomass for my people?” Do not be over-eager. They have told untruths before. Between her and the Commander the Admiral’s eyes roamed, the Pod mostly preoccupied with making herself as small as possible behind them all.

Protection? Oversight, was more likely at this juncture. The humanite was prepared. Too prepared for her liking. Too ready to help, too ready to aid. But such aid was unprecedented. Unlimited biomass? Unlimited food? With such she would not need foragers. With enough Queens she could …

“Ten thousand soldiers could be spared initially.”

“Such number could be made ten-times larger in the period of a birthing cycle, if a nest was constructed on the surface of this world.” The number was a gamble. An uncertainty. They would be large clutches, and the soldiers would be weaker, but it would allow for the creation of additional queens. Queens who, once grown, could further birth additional forces. The Admiral wanted forces. Bodies. He was interested. She pressed. “My people will require places to sleep. To heal. If you can provide this assistance promised, can safeguard a location from the ships and fire of your enemies, it would be secure enough for my birthing queens.”

The Pod startled when the Admiral, eyes weighing the Queen as one sizes a challenge not yet approached, spoke.

The blankness of the translator for their thirty-measure denotations was irritating. She added the alien word wholly.

“The first Hundred Measures. The formation of the melodies which will bring their voices into the colony.”

Meat inside Admiral’s mouth clicked, a sharp noise that briefly shook the Queen as its deep ‘thok’ing noise was felt on her carapace. Oddly pleasant. She did not find such comfortable.

The question was open ended. Skthveraachk did not know what was even being asked.

“My colony has waged many wars. Fought many battles. They are experienced and unified. Once grown, the new children will join the ranks.” It seemed to satisfy. Removing his head’s covering, a hand smoothed over the white follicles of hair.

Agreement, tentative or not, was keeping her pace rapid. Her mind racing. She could replace the thousands lost. Strengthen her colony. Strengthen, Composer, she would see her colony again first! A thing she had already seen as sand in the tide, gone and lost. Hathan was trying to catch her look. He was forced back to the Admiral at his call. The cap went back on.

“I would like to return to my planet. I must see my colony.” His hand raised to head, Hathan moved aside to allow the Admiral past. Red meat without mouth pursed to straight line.

Ah, yes. Escort, once more. Soon to be dying for them, but still untrusted to wander freely. The pair departed, and it was only in the vacancy they left that the Queen realized the space between her and the Pod. A gap, where once there was none. She began to shorten it, only for the Pod to tap her way for the ramp. Forcing Queen to follow.

“Jennifer-thinker, is something wrong?” Not of the Hathan’s colony. Not of any colony. The more she tried to approach it, the more it was as if half the humanites were unguided thinkers on their own right. Or Queens themselves. It upset her rhythm, and she backed away from the mental notion. “I extend regretful sorrow if I caused you incidental damage in my departure, I was … deeply troubled.”

Four ambers behind her. More seen ahead in the corridor. She passed over the marks left carved by her scythes in the passageway floor, and felt hairs tremble.

“The Hathan Commander was never in any danger. These Queens had decided before their arrival to use us.”

It took three full beats and eight full steps before Skthveraach, in the wake of the Pod’s tightened white shell, grasped the meaning of the music.

“The amber?”

“He was attempting to block my passage. I removed him.” The Pod made a throaty noise. This was a part of the ship she had never seen. Thinner, without the spacious rooms off to either side of the main tunnel route. She would need to update her thinker. Oh, sky swallow her, her colony of eighteen. Of those on the surface, who still lived. How would she find the notes to express what had transpired here? That they had joined with her, only to be made the lessers of the humanites? “His death was not sought. If it occurred, it would be unfortunate, but many are capable of replacing him. His role is not vital.”

Red hair and green eyes were spun about and bearing down on her. Bearing down with that uncanny speed which forced the Queen to skid to a halt, lest she ram into and topple over the diminutive humanite. The Pod was never angry. She was now furious over damage to a single soldier. Heat flared in her core.

“One of nineteen gave their life willingly for the sake of one of your precious tests. One of your thousands would not give their life for their role?” The humanite did not budge. And the sounds of the ambers behind her reinforced what was already apparent. She had pushed her fortunes too far already. “It is received, Jennifer-thinker.” Greater. Lesser. Positions established. The Pod was back on the route determined, their distance shortened yet feeling all the wider. Perhaps she had known the amber? It had been another amber who had been feeding her before the hearing. A sibling from same clutch of eggs, perhaps. It was better to respond universally. “I am sorry for such distress caused, Jennifer-thinker.”

Hands flew upward as the Pod began to emit pitched breathing, and Skthveraachk flattened herself to the wall to ensure the ambers behind could see she was not harming the female. Her fingers clawing through her hair, making of it a balled mess. A sucking breath swelled her chest. And whooshed out from her as her arms spread wide.

“I do not know.” It was reasonable if they faced enemies for their Queens to wish her species hidden. She was a tool now. A weapon. You did not reveal your weapons until it was time to use them. “Are you ill?”

No wonder the Pod had quarantined her feeding to private areas, then. The Queen added a bit more distance between them. Hopefully the creatures’ menders were versed. It would be a shame for the Pod to die. She did not care for Skthveraachk, as Skthveraachk had thought the Commander did, but never did the Pod make it seem as though she had. She was interesting to the Pod. That was all. Skthveraachk liked that. It was simple. It was good. It was true.

Then, the bridge. The heart, or perhaps brain would be better comparison, of the titanic vessel, had been thing she was most curious in inspecting. It was something of a sadness that it was but as many other rooms had thus far been. A few more raised areas amidst pits full of the singing rocks, the terminals of metal and light, and a crammed mess of pathways barely wide enough for two humans to traverse without colliding with seat or screen. Skthveraachk could not hope of fitting into the fore most sections, but was contented that the vast majority of what she saw was more of the same. More of the rest. It was the large central platform that absorbed her now, watching a representation of her world hover in a slue of tantalizing colors. A miniaturized copy. She reached a grasper forward, and it slid through the air as though there were nothing, just as had occurred with the floating lights of the testing chamber. An exact opposite of her first cell. First, things that could not be seen yet were hard and solid and real. Now, things that could be seen, but reflected none of her sounds and denied any of her touches. Every measure, a new marvel. She tried to hold to her resentment, and not let the wonders of the humanites carry away the yet broiling anger.

The Pod. Back from bickering with one of the blue-shells at their stations. Something about intrusion, a lack of desire for the Queen to be present. The Pod had cited some reason or another, wielded Hathan’s name like a brutish club-claw, and finally silenced the opposition.

“Like the connections of my people. Through the empty space, without touch.”

Skthveraachk chittered pleasantly, pleased with her correct accuracy on the first try.

“Nests are not hives.”

“Your concern is noted. I will not strike any present.” She had said it would move in. In it moved. The orb grew, swelled up until it seemed it would soon engulf the entire room, but then turned square at the edges. Excess landmasses vanishing from view and scope, ocean sliding away into nothingness. There were the plains. There were the feeding reserves. There were the mountains, Hollowcore…! No, peel it, they too were out of view now. She could make out the forest first, then individual trees, soon they would be striking the ground at this speed! Skthveraachk began to rear, and it was only sight of the Pod’s calm lean forward and reminder of her explanation that steadied the Queen. And with a jerky halt of motion, all those measures seemed irrelevant. It was last rise, and once more, she was on the field before her very own eyes.

Pockmarks and craters. Grasses scorned black and chunks of carapaces strewn and littered. Much had been devoured, or hauled away, but pieces yet remained buried in trunks and scattered beneath rocks. Her nest remained empty; she had not expected otherwise. Such fury, such damage, the layers down to the sixth collapsed and exposed; none would return here, for fear of enticing whatever had destroyed the area to return. She could only imagine the smell, the thousands of death signals and warning markers. A cursed place. A dead place. She did not wish to look upon it further. She wished to go home.

“My main nest is to the risefade. Over six thousand lengths. We must travel first two thousand lengths to the sopra-risefade of here.” She waited. The terrain did not change. With look to the Pod’s empty face, the Queen made a hissing inhale as her mandibles clacked. “…That way. Travel that way.” Pointing finished the job. The image began to wander, slow at first, quickening the longer she pointed. There wound the trail from the brooding nest on to the farms, the open-aired fields growing towering stalks of sweet kakstrip. Further, further. Breathe easier. Calm and steady. She readied. She failed, and felt wetness seep from her vents as lungs contracted as movement was registered. “Stop, stop!”

A drone. Two cycles old, from Skthveraachk-birthqueen’s brood. She could tell by that perfect crest, the soft and dark color of carapace. It was digging into the soil, pulling out one of the ever-niggling grub that had somehow slipped through the tenders on the perimeter to gnaw at fungal crop. A swift bite, a clean decapitation. Perfectly executed. Perfectly held as its blood was smeared on the stalk to warn off other infesters, perfectly positioned as it was buried back at the roots to fertilize the soil. Not worth transporting back. The sneaky tender drone even quickly gobbled down the severed head of the grub. A self-granted reward for job well done. She would have admonished it if she were there, she was obligated, but it would have been a soft melody and gentle reprimand. It scuttled away. The view followed, and filled with the sight of drones at their labor. Alive. Safe. Secure.

“Further sopra. Up. Up, a thousand lengths.” The second brooding nest. Quiet on the surface, save for soldiers refreshing the markers and warning signals in circles around entrances and perimeter. No danger. No panic. The queens inside would be gestating in peaceful rest, the only eggs lain here ones of her own kind. No pens to hold the creatures needed for hybridization, no struggle in the mating. Only the vast and cool caverns carrying the next generations, regrowing the losses suffered.

“Two thousand to risefade, that way.” The cleared areas, stripped of concealing trees as the terrain grew jagged and pathways wrapped into the feet of the mountains. Markers not just of smell, but of sight as well. They looked primitive now, laughable next to the humanite constructions, but the statues and obelisks were beautiful all the same in her eyes. Proud declarations of the cycles uncountable that Skthveraachk-Colony had resided in these mountains. Many times challenged. Never unseated. Invaders had only twice before reached here to where the view scanned, to the greatest of her colony’s triumphs. To the bridge of bodies and sealant and rock, the corpses of five thousand enemy soldiers forever entombed over yawning chasm and used to solidify the bonds of the walk. Held aloft unto the very gates of Hollowcore, ten lengths wide and twice as tall, the only point of access to those who would elsewise need spend five hundred measures tunneling into the solid stone of the mountain. An unspoken challenge to any would-be conquerors, to walk the road of the defeated fools who too thought they could seize her home. Her nest. Her…

“Stop. Back.” That was wrong. No soldiers guarded entrance. None were needed, of course, a dozen markers would be tripped and alerts sounded before any got within a thousand lengths of Hollowcore, but workers were emerging from the opened gates and to the edge of the bridge. Tossing debris down into the chasm. ‘Pit of the Silenced’ she had humorously called it when boasting to her vassals. It was not a sacred place, but it was a line of defense all the same. Every stone filled it, made it shallower. The dumping grounds were on opposite side. “Closer? Can it be made closer?” It could. No, it was certain. They emerged with dark rocks in jaws, tossed them over the edge, returned inside. Jagged cut stone, almost shining and wet it seemed.

Panic. Alarm. A spurt of her warning marker was made on the deck, and blue-shells nearby recoiled. Not stones. The cuts were too easy. Too symmetrical. Chitin. Shell. Black, brown, some murky reds. Soldiers and workers. Plating from crests deemed unfit to digest. From the bodies taken to storage. From those who had refused.

“I must go!” From those who had refused the new commands. She backed away. “Now! To that location, to here, on my world!”

“Peel my crest, do as you will, but I must go!” From those who held loyalty. Chitin and plates and refuse from however many hundred, how many thousand, had preferred the risk of frenzy to the orders that went against everything they were. Not this. Not now. “Bodies! Corpses! They are disposing of the disobedient! I must go, with my colony, and sing of my life! My survival and all that has transpired and stories to be added to our memories!”

“The Commander wishes an army. The Admiral wishes ten thousand soldiers. You will tell them that if I do not return now, he will not have ten thousand, he will not have ten hundred, he will not have ten!” Her gaster bumped to barrier, and ambers nearby drew closer. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, foolish decisions made then forgotten as she focused her energies on the here. On the now. She had invited in the tainted, and now, after all this time, would watch as it devoured all.

“We go now, or I have no colony for him! Ktcvahnaah Queen will take it all!”