There was no middle ground when it came to devourers. Those living within Parabellum either loved them or detested them.

To Gliv’s and her band of conspiring rebels’ relief, most of the population held the latter opinion. Unfortunately, that might have been the only thing going in their favor. Hatred did not necessarily translate to defiance. Every slave and mercenary knew how the past revolts ended. The fact that Zhulong was the only devourer left did not embolden them. If anything, it instilled more fear in them.

It was almost universally agreed that only Violator surpassed him in cruelty and depravity. With none of his ilk to keep him in check, many slaves feared he would torture them for the slightest mishap.

Gliv couldn’t stomach such passivity. Now was the perfect time to overthrow their oppressors! Una had cautioned Gliv to be subtle, but her muted whispers and light probing were not producing any results. It was time to take some risks.

She beelined straight to the brewery once her garja overseer reluctantly allowed her to go on break. Having no taste for spirits, she rarely visited the area, but knew that many influential mercenaries frequented the establishment.

Gliv rubbed her hands in delight when she saw a group of lizardmen raising a ruckus.

“Oi, you fookin’ gits, this is the second time you’ve watered down the kilju!” a broad-shouldered tegu with an impressive set of jowls bellowed.

The tegu’s wrath did not faze the human brewer or his guards.

“Haven’t gotten a fruit or sugar resupply since we’ve ended up in this place. Gotta ration what we got left.”

“We fight for food, alcohol, and smokes! That’s the deal! Keep up your end!”

“What are you going to do if we don’t? Desert?” an ammut asked scornfully. “You wouldn’t last a day out in that snow.”

“Us tegus have a way of dealing with the cold.”

“You’re not entitled to anything!!” a carakhan pistoleer said shrilly. “Your kind has done nothing but laze around and drink since we got here! If it were up to me, we would have already chopped you into bits and put you in a stew!”

“Try it, bird!” the lead tegu hissed, unsheathing his falchion.

The carakhan whipped out a scimitar and a pistol. “I could kill any four of you myself!”

“Good thing there’s twelve of us!”

To Gliv’s immense disappointment, tensions died down when an ophidian channeler and a monofu rushed onto the scene.

“Lay down your swords, friends! There is no need for bloodshed.” the monofu appealed. The giant moth jumped off the ophidian’s shoulders and fluttered over to the dissenting tegu. “What troubles you Guld?”

Monofu

The tegu turned his head and stomped his foot like a petulant child. “They haven’t given us our dues, marm.”

“I know that you’re fond of your spirits, but surely it’s not worth killing over?”

“Yes, it is!” another tegu cried. All the other lizards nodded gravely.

“If violence breaks out, you’re the ones that will die!” the carakhan shrieked. The ophidian cowed the bird with a scathing glare.

The monofu sighed. “I will never understand why you’re all so quick to resort to violence. Guld, do you think really brandishing your blade is going to accomplish anything?”

Gliv didn’t bother waiting for Guld’s response. She had seen those interfering moths play peacemaker before. They only got involved when they were certain they could resolve the situation.

She skirted around the tegus, searching for the figure that had drawn her here. She found him leaning against a wall, pouring a vile-smelling concoction down his throat.

“Thrugg?”

She flinched when the akhlut’s long snout swiveled towards her.

Gliv forced herself to meet his drunken gaze. He and the rest of his kind were hideous creatures that resembled a gross cross between a crocodile and an otter.

“Waddaya want, monkeigh?”

Gliv cleared her throat. “Click asked me to give you this.” She handed the drunk a small bag of tobacco. She shuddered when his furry paws brushed against her fingers.

“Hmph. Why didn’t the gecko bring it himself?”

“He’s busy, and I wanted to hear about Zantor. It sounded like a lovely place.”

Thrugg shot her a stink eye. “Wanted to hear about Zantor, huh? Lemme guess, you're plannin’ on starting a punch up?” The akhlut shushed her before she could deny or confirm his statement.

“Don’t say anything. Don’t implicate yourself. Just listen to an ole fool. Don’t know whether ya got vengeance or notions of freedom on your mind, but whatever it is, drop it. The blackbloods are too strong. Every rebel that stood ‘gainst them was crushed.”

“The Worm is the only one left, and the last war has whittled the zealots down. We can beat him if we rally all the slaves and mercenaries against them.”

“Tings are a bit different this time around; I’ll grant you that. But it ain’t going to tip the scales in your favor. Dat bastard is just too damn scary.”

“We can’t let fear conquer us.”

“Easy to say when ya haven’t seen da brutality he can unleash.”

Gliv glowered at the drunkard. “That monster destroyed my son’s mind right in front of my eyes. Don’t tell me I haven’t seen brutality.”

Thrugg sneered. “You haven’t. Brain leeches, be standard stuff. Sorry to say, but when dey ruined your son’s head, all dey saw was a resource. You’ve never seen dem when dey was angry. Tell me, have you ever heard what happened to Crix?”

Gliv balled her fists, but she suppressed her rage and slowly shook her head.

“Was a human merc, oddly enough. Normally those ugly monkeighs stay loyal since the blackbloods are partial to them. Anyway, Crix started a ruckus for some reason or the other and actually managed to bloody their noses. ‘Dey weren’t too happy about that so they told the synths to figure out who the ringleaders were so they can make an example of em. Crix was dumb enough to let himself get captured by Fourteen and she made sure that her boss realized exactly who he was.”

“Crix tried to put on a brave face, but the Worm just grabbed his hand and started fooking up his fingers. ‘E just twisted them like they were made of dough. The sounds still haunt me to dis day. Once the Worm finished mangling and mashing Crix’s hand, ‘e wheeled in dis tall duraglass container made just for the occasion.” Thrugg took another sip from his mug. “Still can’t believe the bastard actually fired up the replicator just to send a message. Anyway, the Worm put this guy into dis tank that was just barely wide enough for Crix to fit in. ‘E drops a rope right in afterward. Tells Crix that if he can climb out, he’ll get to live, and they’ll treat his injuries. That’s when the water started coming. Scalding hot this water is—and ‘e keeps pouring more in until Crix is up to his waist in the stuff. Crix tries to grab the rope, but since his fingers are useless, all he can do is hop in place and scream while his skin slo—”

“Stop!” Gliv screamed.

“Point is, Crix wasn’t so brave when ‘e was put in the tank. You try to hurt the blackbloods, they'll get ya a hundred times back. If you are really determined to stick it to them, find a gun and blow your brains out. Don’t get anybody else involved.” Thrugg spilled the rest of his drink onto the ground. “Well, now me mood is ruined. I hope me words at least got through yer head. Now scram.”

Seeing no point in conversing with the bitter akhlut, Gliv turned around and started walking away.

“If you think killing yourself is the only way to get at them, how come you're still alive?” she felt compelled to ask.

Thrugg didn’t even look up. “Cause I’m a dirty little coward.”

Gliv muttered a string of curses, utterly disgusted by the akhlut’s utter resignation. How could he just obediently bow his head to the ones that had destroyed his homeworld and doomed his species to extinction?

“Sneaky little monkey.”

Gliv whirled around. She had been in such a foul mood she hadn’t noticed she was being tailed. Her hellvetii stalker had gotten so close they were practically touching.

Hellvetii

“Funny seeing you again. You ought to be more careful with that tongue of yours. Eavesdroppers are everywhere these days.”

Gliv reached for her shiv for all the good it would do her. The improvised blade would probably bounce off the insect’s exoskeleton.

“No need to be so jumpy! We got off on the wrong foot before! As a matter of fact, what say we team up?”

******

On the other side of Parabellum, Skitar, queen of the Hellvetii-Ski colony, was pacing back and forth in front of the Belli-Chrys mound. The giant ant glared at the insects guarding the entrance. Kowtowing to a blackblood was bad enough, but having to comply with the demands made by a bunch of wood munching termites was too much to bear.

“Let me in already!” Skitar hissed, mandibles clacking.

The gamergate guarding the entrance was half Skitar’s size, but to the fertile termite’s credit, she remained unintimidated. “You’ll wait out here until queen Chrysalis is ready to see you!” The pheromones that she emitted agitated the mandibulates flaking her.

Skitar sneered at the mindless workers. She couldn’t fathom how Chrysalis could live with herself knowing that most of her daughters were little more than beasts.

“Please calm yourself, my queen!” one of Skitar’s officers urged. “Negotiations with the Belli-Chrys are doomed to fail if you draw your blades!”

Without warning, Skitar bit off her subordinate’s left mandible. A follow-up strike to the head silenced her daughter’s agonized cries. She rained a flurry of kicks down on her concussed victim. “You don’t tell me what to do!”

A baritone voice made itself heard over the racket.

“Hellvetii, savage as always,” a figure nearly as tall as one of Skitar’s followers emerged from the entrance. Skitar clenched her mandibles in disgust when she laid eyes on the new arrival. Bestial daughters were bad enough, but an intelligent drone was a stomach-churning sight.

“Tell your mate to stop wasting my time, Kreet.”

King Kreet’s antennas twitched. “Queen Chrysalis has agreed to meet with you, but only if you surrender your arms.”

Skitar seethed inwardly, but feigned indifference. “We wouldn’t need weapons to slaughter your colony.” she boasted. Her entourage looked considerably less confident.

Kreet shook his head. Once they were unarmed, Kreet and a cadre of praetorian mandibulates escorted them to the royal chambers.

The room was drab and ugly. Skitar supposed Chrysalis was smart enough to realize the futility of decorating. The Belli-Chrys queen was conspicuous in all the wrong ways. Fused to a corpulent abdomen over twenty feet long, it was no exaggeration to describe Chrysalis as an immobile egg factory. Even now, she was giving birth.

Thoroughly repulsed, Skitar tried to get straight to the point. “Queen Chrysalis I have come—”

The other colony leader was even more blunt and direct. “No.”

Chrysalis' harem and her gamergates erupted with laughter.

A curtain of red filled Skitar’s vision. “What do you mean, no? I haven’t even finished speaking!”

“I already know what you were going to propose,” Chrysalis responded airily. “The only reason I deigned to speak with you was so I could humiliate you.”

“Humiliate me? Humiliate me? We’ll see who’s humiliated when I rip off your legs and eat you alive, you obese maggot!”

A tide of bodies dragged Skitar down before she could take a single step forward. Kreet and five other members of the royal harem seized each of her limbs.

“Kill them! Kill them all!” Skitar screeched. Her minions, unarmed and surrounded by a swarm of mandibulates, acid-spitting guards, and Belli-Chrys gamergates, meekly surrendered. “You worthless cowards!”

“I had hoped that you would be smarter than your predecessors,” Chrysalis said. “It seems you’re even dimmer. You resisted your kind's penchant for treachery for nearly three years. What changed?”

Having never actually stated her intent to rebel, Skitar should have caught her losses by feigning ignorance, but she was too enraged to even consider doing that. “Ever since we teleported here, that damned blackblood and his slack-jawed synths have been treating me like some common sellsword! I won’t stand for it.” She glared at the other monarch. “The Worm is the only one left! This is the perfect time to be free of his yoke!” Chrysalis silently stared at her. “Don’t tell me you’re actually loyal to that abomination? It’s not even a female!”

“Tell me something,” Chrysalis enunciated. “In the minuscule chance that you actually defeated the archduke and his forces; how exactly did you plan on surviving this hellish climate?”

“What are you babbling about?”

“We are cold-blooded, you idiot! The only reason we haven’t froze to death is because the climate regulators are keeping our pockets of territory warm! Without the archduke, there’s no biofuel. Without biofuel, the climate regulators stop running. Without the climate regulators, we die!”

“We can capture him! Keep him chained and drain his blood whenever we require more!”

“And how are you going to keep a nigh immortal and ridiculously strong devourer captive? I doubt you’d be able to keep him fed! Gah, just looking at your idiotic face aggravates me! Get them out of here!”

“I’ll kill you for this!” Skitar vowed as her subduers dragged her away.

“Next time you try to drag us into your imbecilic schemes, we’ll use your corpse to fertilize our crops,” Chrysalis shot back.

One of the queen's mates sidled up to her. “Should we report this incident to the archduke?”

“Report what?” Chrysalis scoffed. “That the hellvetii were plotting against him? I might as well send him a warning every time the sun sets.”

Skitar was quite literally tossed out of the Belli-Chrys nest. She leaped up and charged the entrance but halted when she realized just how many insects stood in her way. In an effort to save some face, she dismembered the officer she maimed earlier.

“What do we do now, my queen?” Naidra, her second-in-command, asked. Skitar would have ripped any other hellvetii to pieces if they spoke to her when she was in the grips of such rage, but she restrained herself for once. Naidra was a unique asset. Several years ago, her clever and formidable sister received life-threatening injuries that deprived her of her memories, her ability to lay eggs, and any shot of queenhood. Although Naidra was no longer a contender for the throne, several members of their colony sought to slay their once ambitious and conniving rival out of pure spite. Skitar had saved the amnesiac on a whim and in return, Naidra engineered Skitar’s ascension to the throne.

Skitar pocketed her dead subordinate’s heart stone and slugged one of her followers that had stared at her back for too long. “Back to the nest! I am not in the mood for any more plans.”

Their return trip was tense. Skitar looked for any and every excuse to attack her subordinates so she could reassert her authority and mend her wounded pride.

That opportunity finally presented itself when they found Jadora waiting for them outside the nest.

“My queen! I have great—gah!” a single punch to the chest toppled the lieutenant.

“Where were you? It was your idea to talk to those damn wood chewers, and you didn’t even show up! I ought to gut you!”

Jadora prostrated before her enraged leader. “Forgive me, my queen! I came across a promising opportunity and I thought I'd be remiss if I did not pursue it!” Skitar grabbed Jadora by her neck and dragged her to the throne room.

“This better be good, or I’ll dismantle you piece by piece!”

“It is! I swear!” Jadora shrieked as she was thrown onto her back. “I met a neanderthal that was planning on starting a rebellion of her own! So far, she’s already got nearly a hundred other slaves on board. She’s trying to get some of the mercenaries on her side too.”

Skitar pressed a dagger against the space between Jadora’s eyes. “A neanderthal? You ditched me to speak to some useless monkey slave?” Jadora shut her eyes, certain that it was curtains for her.

“My queen!” Zagdra, another one of Skitar’s officers, shouted just before Skitar plunged the dagger into Jadora’s head. “Neanderthals may be pathetic, but they have a greater affinity with the mercenaries and slaves than we do. If we can form an alliance with this neanderthal, we’ll have a better shot at overthrowing the Worm.”

Skitar glared at her third-in-command. Recently, she heard rumors that Utakara, another one of her trusted eunuchs, had actually cut off her ovipositor as a gesture of submission to Zagdra instead of her. Even if that was a baseless lie, Zagdra was still in the best position to usurp her. Skitar wanted to follow through with the execution just to remind Zagdra, who was in charge, but reluctantly waited for Naidra’s counsel. To her disappointment, she also advocated for mercy.

“Fine. You get to live. Start talking.”