It had not been boredom, not quite, that had distracted her when Skthveraachk had left the caldera. The territory of Hollowcore, not including the hunting reserves held and shared by agreement, could be traversed almost within the rise of a single measure. To travel such a distance here, on Dracan, with the goal being only the first of several waypoints on a road to greater destination, was therefore the furthest the Queen would have ever traveled with the force of her army. Almost the furthest she had ever traveled at all, further than Guir and even further than her pilgrimages to the Remembering. Not boredom; none could find true boredom in a journey of such magnitude. But compared to a flight through the stars, an advance at the side of aliens or battleground, it had seemed so…mundane. Shame, like Skthveraachk had not experienced since she was a queenling, was a sticking vapor worn about her as a shroud of toxic spores. Clinging, like the sealant being shoved with the four graspers of the two menders latched to the shattered carapace, the crack which had let spill much of the liquid bloat which had remained within her gaster as soon as the Queen had crawled free of her throne. VTOLs which had accompanied the column since the encounter continued to circle wide the encampment, and through the Hathan’s chest, silver poles could be made out extending from the ground. Expanding, then unfurling the metallic fabric of habitational structures.

Aadarsh sat upon air and sound. His image just permeable enough to deny notions of solidity to the eyes, though the way notes passed through his body was confirmation enough.

“I have organized my forces defensively around the perimeter of this bivouac.” Another tent sprung up from the ground, the fluttering obscured under the trampling sound of legs and shouted orders. The menders chittered and hissed demands for her stillness, whilst attendants pulled harsher to close the gap cut upon her. “Twenty-two scentcrafters lost. I have not even sixty remaining. Six hundred and thirty-five drones frenzied, and were silenced, following the attack. Another half-thousand are expected to join them.”

An arm appeared out of nowhere, stretching towards the Aadarsh with tap-pad. Above the image, the hovering half-sphere widened its lights to accommodate the new addition to the displayed scene.

It was good for the Lieutenant to speak now, to ripple into existence alongside Hathan’s projection. It spared the Queen from answering the question with the only response she had; ‘unknown’. The single, anathema word to her being.

Skthveraachk bristled a leg backwards for the nearest attendant, and felt sealant crack at the movement. Fresh bubbling of blood felt falling from her as the Aadarsh’s words were sought to be translated as a demand for some great humanite beast to swallow offenders up. With its fecal port.

“Kinetic weapon at a range beyond sight. They intended to eliminate my scentcrafters, and myself. I was fortunate. The sled’s hull absorbed most of the impact. I am capable of proceeding.” She had not overlooked the looks Hathan had been giving her, but neither had she overlooked the male’s sense of procedure with the Herald. And, perhaps, had seen her suffer worse. The Lieutenant, too, had a lesser scowl about her. Distaste, but in harmony with an undertone of sympathy.

Commander reverberated bass within his neck, and the female snipped her tongue.

Solovyova’s voice did not carry the mechanical tickle of the others. The scuff of her boots and grunts of her breath came in sound first; the red meat and blood, the golden hair shaved away from half her skull, the orifice which once held her right eye now filled with a white pus, came in sight second. Mesh, like the wrapping seals which clung about the entrances of Guir’s buildings, glistening under the descending sun on the sundered female. Step was staggered. But it did not stumble, and salute was given and returned as the Lieutenantcolonel joined the circle.

Disgust oozed like birthing seepage from the Lieutenant. Queen, like Herald, looked on with a concerned fascination as the former Major found a seat upon a set of crates yet to be unpacked by the masses of half-coordinated troops. At the damage which should have seen a humanite laying face-down in the muck. Punctures. Penetrations. Arms stripped to the bone. Heads half melted. How much could the species survive with their perilous technology?

She launched into the report with vacancy in eye, tightness in lip. Acknowledgement and dismissal of the Aadarsh’s offer without speaking either. Calculations were quick. Attention, briefly perked.

“Further movement will risk permanent split.” The mender atop her struck at Skthveraachk’s carapace as the Queen sent another order through the link, to those drones nearest the medical area. Watching the lines of humanites being hauled in on floating stretchers and strips of woven fibre. “Instructions were included. Reminder. Priority Mender at primary nest will feed Queen numbing mass for tenmeasure should she return unnecessarily damaged.” Clacking mandibles once in irritation, then twice in a faint amusement, Skthveraachk tried to limit motion and breaths both. Trusting in the integrity of the link.

Marking the air, eyes returning to the tap-pad he had been handed, the Herald thinned his auburn lips. A fifth humanite was added to the growing ring, Solovyova taking the change of focus as opportunity to lean backwards with her graspers knotted about her thorax core. One Skthveraachk could not recognize in feature, but in uniform and shell. A Queen of their floating vessels, Commander of the vessel entire.

Hat and garb marked the pale male a leader. Apology and fear reeked of a startling weakness. The Herald rose the holes of his face higher, flaring them open and moister.

This tone was familiar, these notes recalled to a time of hearing. And from the positions taken, the way the Lieutenant, the Commander, subtly angled their bodies away, the Queen did not need the assistance of the thinkers to understand why the tightness of Captain’s neck and face seemed to stretch in fear with each word.

Smooth and flowing, the river of the Aadarsh’s speech cut suddenly like the water which could shear mountains.

They had looked but not seen. How, why? The cloaks, the wraps the Sovereignty sometimes used, if they could guard from the eyes in the sky, why did they not always bear them? Allocate. Partition the information. Thinkers snatched the question from her, huddled and hidden now in the deepest parts of the encircling defensive perimeter, protected under layers of bodies. She was left with what was important; ships of space, not infallible. They could be fooled. It was saved.

Paler now, whiter, and even in the shimmer of the floating image focused more on upper half, the clenching graspers seemed as though the humanite intended to pop free the endoskeleton from skin’s layer.

Fists were unmade. Hands, not just of the Captain but of even the Commander, raised and patted air. The Lieutenantcolonel female lurched in her spot, and the darkness of her features amidst visible bone and blackness was a look the Queen would never have thought advisable. And the song, rather than exchange, became a stewing mixture of conflicting directions.

“Is there any other explanation?” Interruption. Accursed rudeness, but these peelable humanites never made it simple to join voices. The Queen did not care for this individual-colony. The Queen briefly neglected her care for the longer term. Clamor was unproductive. The aches in her split gaster intensified at the notion of being here, and unproductive, at once. “Other than frenzy. Betrayal, lies; is there another possibility?”

Solovyova’s burgeoning music was crushed beneath the surety of the Herald’s. The surprise in the Captain at Skthveraachk’s inclusion, perhaps not even present to its view as it was to her eyes, was subtext under the main focus of the Aadarsh-Who-Had-Been-Blessed’s orientation to his own image of her.

Stiffening, trying to hide the fluids which would indicate stress and inner upheaval leaking down its body, the Captain bowed its head and torso forward.

Browned fingers protruding from black cuffs of embroidered garb danced and writhed on the tap-pad.

A lie? A lie. A lie the Captain hid poorly. A lie the Herald caught. A lie the Herald did not punish, or acknowledge. Words and actions, meaning more than they said.

A lie? Yes. No. Its mouth twitched, its eyes shifted at angle, all signs the five-armed thinker had recorded as indicators of falsehood, but so too did its breath seep outward. Posture shiver. The anger was honest. But so was the relief, the gratitude. This was not the worst which could be inflicted.

The flicking of wrist was dismissive, the image of the blue shelled Captain snapped from the is to the was in the span of a beat. The Lieutenant merely stood at the ready. The Lieutenantcolonel, scowling dark, sought to drink the light of the sun entire. It was the Commander who broke the temporary silence, adjusting the tightest band at the base of his neck.

A nod to the Queen. A rubbing of her tired scythes in responded acknowledgement, the reared and held posture making stiff her core.

Aadarsh rose, and Solovyova rose with him. Lieutenant and Commander, who stood already, made an effort to plank their bodies all the more rigid. Salutes. Bows. Twinkle and shimmer cut Aadarsh from reality, the Lieutenant immediately following. Commander lingered, as Queen expected he would, and began to offer some manner of sympathy when her chitters and clacking assured him of her safety. Kindness, even if unnecessary, to check. He too, then, was gone, and by the time Skthveraachk was back on all legs, Solovyova had started her retreat. Shaking off an attempt by passing humanite mender to check on the healing, gooey mesh.

“Former-Major. Lieutenantcolonel. Please. Words before your departure.”

Skthveraachk checked with the mender, and saw from a vantage above her own body the last tenth of the gash splintering her skeleton nearly completely closed. But nearly was not entirely, and while this mender’s wrath was a meager thing, she who had remained at the nest was not kind to ignored advice.

“Only twenty of your injured soldiers remain in transit. All others have been delivered to medical stations. Nine have died. I am sorry.” The female halted. Turned to fix that half-skull upon Skthveraachk’s steadied body.

“Informing you of what has been relayed. I have three hundred and forty menials assisting with their transportation.”

Not anger or indignation. Curiosity? The Solovyova’s soldiers could be felt, distantly, moving between and around her drones with only the occasional flinch. They received the help. They questioned, but accepted.

“Many from the Palamedes welcome my presence. Many others have come to resent it. Your soldiers are less hesitant. I wish to be useful.” Truth, but not a truth which satsfied. The Lieutenantcolonel did not move away, but the limped lean and cross of arms was an unspoken question. “My goal is preservation of Sovereignty life. I saw a way to assist.” Truth again, but now the female was smiling. Less than smiling, more pointed. Smirk. Could she tell the Queen was trying to hold back information? It was unimportant, non-vital. With a whisper from her vents in the cold alien air, Skthveraachk scratched a claw across the ground. “I dispatched aid when I heard the casualty numbers.”

Solovyova had not moved during the meeting. Had barely twitched. The Queen’s surprise must have been just as visible, given the low laugh the female uttered.

“Twenty-two AVs were lost, in total.” Good. Relief. Each time a humanite picked up on signals their eyes should not be attuned for, Skthveraachk felt a bit more peeled; Solovyova’s emptiness and patience, waiting for the Queen’s music to fill the gap of the song, restored a degree of normalcy. “It is a product of the Guiding Base.”

“I do not understand this comparison.” Tapping of antennae. “So, I understand this comparison. Six legs. Six Founders. Six base castes. Twenty-two AVs were lost. Eighteen tracked vehicles of armor. Products of the Guiding Base.”

“It is a good sign. It is expected to embrace occurrences of the base. Such are leads, to finding one’s way to Composer’s intent.” Laughter was more genuine now, and desire to leave, less pressing. The mender, finally and at last, patted confirmation of job’s completion out across her abdomen, and Queen rose abruptly. Too abrupt; a shock of soreness flared her vents, but was not permitted to color the beginning of true song’s composition. “What did you wish to say, when the Herald interrupted you?”

Yes. Not physically, but humanites did not mean such literally when using such a phrase. It had been seized by attention, as was the way the Lieutenantcolonel ducked her head as a trio of soldiers reached edge of the small clearing in rapidly filling encampment of tents, hurriedly saluted, and swerved to avoid interfering.

“Obfuscating bivouac is nearby. Sixty lengths. Acceptable?”

“Yes.” They walked. Humanite led the pace, formite matched it for the alien’s comfort. Attendants kept themselves pressed tight and close, for warmth and security both, as menials throughout the camp repositioned to ensure fullest coverage should messages need be sent. “Temporary habitats. Like your tents. Colony sized, originally. As of two bars ago, smallest versions are being made mandatory during all stops.”

Silence was confirmation. Fascination was encompassing.

“For what purpose? Before we encountered your species, the most fit spitters could launch projectile strand mere forty lengths. Sixty, with favorable wind and elevation.” Two tens of scentcrafters. It was as if she could no longer hear clearly the children her daughters and siblings had birthed. “How could any reach through swarm to lone target? And few would be colonies willing to kill so integral a part of the whole. Almost as forsaken as the killing of a thinker, or queenling.”>

Swooping, spinning, their music danced around the true subject. The sound had no translation within the Band. From the way the Lieutenantcolonel raised her hands in a mimicry of holding a lance, the idea parsed.

“All priority castes above fourth shall be masked from sight. Armored, henceforth. Dispersed. Such tragedy shall never strike again.”

“Decision was reached within the first hundred breaths following engagement. Two bars were required to enact preventative plan.” The walls had not yet been raised to the sopra of the camp. Their unfolded, triangular height lengths above her head could already be seen elsewhere, but as with the buildings growing like magical stalks and trees from the soil, each passing moment saw another structure sprout into existence. Ambers were present, watching the perimeter, guards as much against her colony as they were watchers for the Coalition, but these were marked and scented. Accepted, without grudge, and showed no signs of halting as the cluster of drones and single humanite exited into sea of black bodies ringing the temporary settlement. Showed no concern when Solovyova briefly lurched as a drone poked from the squirming meshwork of living ground to smear marker upon her coat’s back.

“Apologies. It is automatic response. I am accustomed to the presence of unscented humanites, but I do not wish accidental harm coming to you-“

“It is not feces. It is a blending of birthing exude and mucus from-“

Spots of red flashed briefly as drones scuttled over, around, apart from one another to create a living path as the Lieutenantcolonel walked, closing the gaps behind her. Most immediately fell back into torpor, conserving themselves until task was presented. But against the flat stretch of chitinous landscape, bumps now appeared ever fifty lengths. Composed of only half-hundred drones, large enough for no more than ten within. Some contained the menders, thinkers. Some, only soldiers. And even then, scentcrafters sometimes instead formed the shells of the domes instead of hiding within, or mingled among the masses. Solution, until proven otherwise. Nearest bivouac opened as the pair approached, legs and heads craning and twitching as hairs rose and parted, forming a crevice within crawling abode. The Queen curled herself down upon a seat formed of soldiers, supporting her weight, and relaxed as tongues immediately set to work cleaning and smoothing the rough sealant job. Solovyova did not settle herself on the facsimile of a humanite chair the drones had twisted themselves into.

“You are welcomed in my presence. I sing that though it not be your intention, my people take great offense to the thrusting of a perceivably superior music between already chanted cords.”

“It is a rudeness which has started wars. I struggled long with understanding your species does not see it through eyes like mine.”

The gap to the outer world squirmed its way shut once more, mandibles taking hold of thoraxes and legs interweaving. As if within a great singular lung, the bivouac swelled and collapsed with synchronized breathing. Vibrations from the domed ceiling beginning to increase the temperature to more welcomed levels. Hidden from without, now was when Solovyova chose to produce the drinking capsule.

“This knowledge has been accepted and internalized. Humanites are individual colonies. Humanites share goals. Humanites may assist one another, but retain isolated objectives. It is maddening, and fearful, but accepted.” She drank while Skthveraachk sung, and though the melody was budding, already the Queen felt a connection drawn. Or, perhaps it was mere reminder of her own thirst after measure’s march. A request for fluid was sent out; excess was located only ten lengths away. “What is not accepted is frequency. Humanites lie, but mistakes have been more often attributed to malice. Stupidity. Accident. Confusion. It is too easy, to blame every failure of communication on lies. It is too easy to blame this measure’s failures on lies.”

“I do not know this name.”

The female coughed, wiped at her head’s portal. Gurgled, slightly, and touched at the redness bordering the mesh coating the melted side of her face. It was surprising how little Skthveraachk noticed, or minded. She had peered beneath the layers of their meat too many times to find it odd now, despite the enthralling peculiarity of watching a humanite speak with their skeleton properly on their outside.

“You know this General well? Knew this General well?” Skthveraachk did not fixate on the exposed muscle and melted eye. The humanite did fixate as most others on the drone crawling up from the floor, and emptying its second stomach of revitalizing water into the Queen’s tube.

“He utilized kinetics. Ambushes. Predicted our routes. The last, I do not understand how it was possible. The first, I do not understand why it is not common.”

It was not what the female wished to discuss, but as the Queen continued to suckle and pulse, hugging forelegs around the menial and stimulating every droplet of excess fluid from its stomach, the open offer was taken as cords once more resounded truth. The female’s head shook.

“The fuel. You provide it by hand? I do not understand.”

Finger rose, and face sunk.

“Yes.” A rock in a sling. A length of bones sharpened at the end. A scythe, thrusting into the contorting gut of a creature from the sky. “I have seen. Expensive. Rare. Deadly. And if the Prescott-General is willing to destroy its nests for their creation, a sizeable threat.” They had consensus. They achieved synchronicity. The Queen sat and cradled it, feeling at the shape and tone of the agreement and understanding the pair had reached as menial drone, now emptied, retreated back into the swarm. Entire bivouac shook as the humanite female abruptly flung herself down into the false seat, stretching out with arms flung to her sides.

The startle felt at impact rippled to join the shock felt at the thrum of vocal cords. How Skthveraachk visibly lurched backwards at the exclamation.

“It killed hundreds.”

“You admire the enemy’s tactics. I receive and comprehend.” Morbid appreciation, perhaps. A clawing sort of clenching pride to be had in how effectively the blow had been struck. Solovyova turned, adjusted, tried to act comfortable on the living furniture but was not false in her comfort for exposing such activities to the Queen. “Elevation. Open field. They were aligned perfectly, and even after locating them, some managed to escape. To outrun. Your species has deceptive speed and stamina.” Mandibles gnashed. “Had I the information last rise I do this measure, I would have chosen the road through the plains.”

Thinkers within the swarm echoed the admonishment, the decision born of emotion rather than logic.

“The likelihood of an attack during travel was already minimal.”

“Which is why the first road, this ‘Alpha’, was excluded from the beginning.” Slower. More deliberate made the tempo. Something nibbled at her spurs. Something scratched at her crest. “The route of the Wyverns towards Tarasque would be too far removed from a path so far from their flight. Response would be too lengthy, too slow.”

Solovyova had ceased her own shifts and adjustments. A leg poked oddly at her arm, but the female leant into it with a sudden lack of discomfort. Fingers drummed. Claws flexed and curled.

“With the other two options removed, I thought it most correct to retain a closeness between my column and yours. Hundreds, thousands, of lengths were present between the second and fourth paths. Should an attack come, support from your species would have been forced to choose between columns.” Shame? Improper and unneeded here. Full admittance warranted. “I expected they would choose your vehicles over my people in terms of value. I would be left once more to ward off assaults from the ‘dhrone’ aircraft or enemy wyverns without Sovereignty aid. This was not acceptable. If road was to be taken, it would be side by side.”

Once more, the unity was all but a tangible cord between them. The Queen leant forward, and the humanite slowly righted on the seat.

“But not our final positions.” A wavering in the music. The female’s hairy scalp tugged down, and winced as the motion once more contorted the gel-like weave clinging to head. Skthveraachk felt pulses as the thinkers were drawn from their other tasks, temporarily providing their fullest attention. All focusing on the singular question being asked without sound. “Should we even accept your Prescott-General was capable of thinking as we think, he could not have known between the final roads which of us would take which.”

Clack of boney teeth sent a pleasurable shiver up the Queen’s core, the hollow sound made reverberating wonderfully along her body despite its obvious intent at disapproval. Skthveraachk thinker flashed brilliance and light from the faderise side of the encampment, hunched over a map drawn in dirt and sand with claw. Requesting conversation’s transcript, rereading, and returning it amended. The Queen clapped her antennae in a brief laugh, and gurgled her insides at the dark implication.

“But he was of the Sovereignty. You identify such as truth.”

“A drone removed from the colony does not forget the colony. Information taken at youth is not lost in age. The Prescott-General knows the Sovereignty. Skthveraachk-Colony knows the Sovereignty.” Admiration? Yes. Fear and admiration. Solovyova waited, as enraptured as the Queen herself, and the finality was laid bare. “The fifth road. The Echo road. It was the last of the options. The best of the options. With the others removed, that only fourth and fifth remained, it was superior. Humanites are superior. Sovereignty is superior.” The smile upon the Solovyova was as thin as it was pleased, the thought concluded before Skthveraachk could finalize it.

“I desired too the far road. But Herald and Commander both made it clear it was better to be given to you, Solovyova-Lieutenantcolonel.”

Exhaling, relaxing, the female sank back into the seat. The pulse of the colony could not be quieted. The heat of the dome, filling her. Know the enemy. Know yourself. She had repeated the line, staring the General in the projected face back at the caldera. Had the male done the same, looking at an image of the Queen in some dim-lit metal gut of a room tens of thousands of lengths away?

If it had…he, had, then he had learned true the lesson far before her. Knew the role of her parts. Knew the mind of her allies and masters. Knew it, used it, and turned that knowledge against the colony like not even the Sovereignty had before. As precise as a crafter’s engravings in the Temples of Remembrance, not as a pillar of fire and death from the sky. Deep within the layers of bodies, the single soldier of crimson ran a claw down the tap-pad he had been entrusted at Queen’s behest. Let, from a distance, her claws direct and guide him to the activation of the screen. Symbols meant nothing to the male, but while the Solovyova continued and resumed her piece of their composition, Skthveraachk could only read again and again the words displayed in golden pride across the internal tome of knowledge. Pledging recommitment, even as six thinkers were reassigned to make its study their sole purpose in life. Perhaps. Perhaps.

Perhaps there was an art to war.