The sun was long set when the music of Queens at last faded from the carven halls and serpentine tunnels. Two, Hhehnstaachlk and Shlthvelhneekch, had been given cleared sections of layers six and seven for them and their colony sections, for it was easier to rest when you did not stink of another’s children. The former Kthcvahlaatch did not ask for a layer. Indeed, there was no longer a distinction to be made, and what had been Kthcvahlaatch had ceased to sing. Their voices had been joined, their purpose shared, and so did drones still bearing cracks and blood of their battles smear with shared scent and forget their names. No longer a Kthcvahlaatch Queen, only a new Skthveraachk queen who was designated to supplementary farming nest, until colony could be fully absorbed. Skthveraachk saw and ordered all of it amidst a duet of close harmonies, a song between the last two Queens which lay within the mountain nest. Until she had made the other understand. Until she had shown her bonded the true color of a humanite truth.

“How many?” Compared to Ckhehnvraahll’s Last, the mossy drapery and earthen works decorating the pale Queen’s chambers therein, sky, even compared to the excess regality Skthveraachk had packed into the highest feeding chamber, the room for her own sleep was little more than a hole. A stone platform which laid to rest the armor her attendants had peeled from her, a bed of dirt to curl around. A questioning, steady white-shed Queen, uncrippled by what she had just learned. “How many of their songs are false?”

“Impossible to determine. Sometimes there are signs. Signals. Most times, there are not.”

“Their music of pledge?” The smaller colony was animate. Her children did not grasp, could not taste, the fullness of the song being shared. But they knew there was danger. That there was discord. Like waves of sound, tremors passed through the spiral halls of Hollowcore. “That they will help us farm, grow our world greener, take us to new worlds where we can be of use. These are lies, or truth?”

“Truth. I think.”

“I will go to the Anushka.” Up on six legs, attendants falling from her body. “She has been the kindest of their kind to me. She is a friend. I will ask her if these things are true, or if they are false, and she will sing truth to me.”

“And how will you know it is truth?” Crawling in a circle, needing movement even without destination, Skthveraachk let the sandy floor drag against her underside. “Even if it is truth to her, to this thinker female of yours, perhaps she too has been lied to. Or perhaps what is truth now will not be so later.”

“An entire species cannot dance with their eyes in the goldboughs, Skthveraachk!” Ripples of fat under softer chitin shook in her movements. “This changes everything.”

“It changes everything for you, for now you know there are scythes behind their hands. It changes nothing for me.” The unarmored crest and black carapace melted their colors into the lightless void of the room. And when the smaller of the two looked again to her, Skthveraachk clacked her mandibles. “I have known since I first returned to Kayyhaitch.”

“How can I sing with them now? How can our species ask you to sing on our behalf, when there is such wrongness in it now?”

“You should not. I must. I have learned over long how to see the color of their lies, hear their falsehoods. It has changed my music, my place beneath the Composer and maybe even in his choir when my final note is sung. You were right.” The jelsaah still in her first stomach was sugary and sweet, and fumes of it continued to waft from her opened mouth each time her mandibles clicked. “I am, different, since my return.”

“Different? Altered? Broken, perhaps? Refused!” Skthveraachk received a single warning spurt from her attendants, her head raising, before the heavy thwack of a spindly leg smacked across her crest. Her stunned gaze and lethargic, unarmored body swaying as her drones startled into alert just in time for the second strike from Ckhehnvraahll to knock against her. “Refused and disregarded!”

“Queen in danger!”

“Queen in danger?”

“Queen IS danger!”

“Queen is danger!?” Confused milling of attendants and drones ran circles around the pair, white formites slapping at black who, like their mother, only held legs up to ward off the blows while scuttling away from the incoming strikes.

“Slough Queen! Cease! Are you frenzied!?”

“Stupid War Queen! Stupid, stupid War Queen!” Skthveraachk crawled backwards until her gaster was hanging over her head, curved up along the wall as Ckhehnvraahll’s sheathed forelegs prodded and slapped and struck. Bouncing off thicker chitin and sending little shockwaves through the meat beneath. “Not different! Same as before, same as mother Wall Queen, same as when we joined against Vhersckaahlhn-Colony and same as when you left to fight the star-sent! Daughters of Sh’e all the same, always sing that they are the only ones who should sacrifice, only ones who can bear the weight of pain!”

“Was chosen! Cease, Queen, cease, bonded!” With surprise overcome, the waifish attendants had managed to pin some of their assaulters. Outnumbering and smothering the pale shelled vassals even as indignant yelps and screeches whistled out the sides of opened lungs. Leaving Skthveraachk Queen the only one yet to stifle her attacker, trying still to crawl up onto the ceiling itself. “Had no choice! Was my nest the star-sent came to, my children they killed. My role, my duty!”

“No choice?” Skthveraachk flinched, ready to suffer another strike while refusing to return it, but the impact did not come. The touch, not harsh, but gentle upon her head. The tender spots beneath her skull where meat had been bruised making the Queen wince, but not pull away as Ckhehnvraahll rubbed forward. Gently winding her tongue around two of the other’s eyes. “Always a choice. You did what was needed. You do, what is needed. I know this. I will always love you for what you do. But you must know,” Her eyes balanced below Skthveraachk’s own, so close that the Queen could see her onyx reflection in all four. “You need not do it alone.”

“Know not what you are asking. Is not greed which keeps me silent, keeps me from burdening your thinkers.”

“No, is arrogance. That only you are capable of strength enough to survive.”

“Is mercy, Ckhehnvraahll, mercy!” Clicking her mandibles so they curled around the other’s skull, Skthveraachk nuzzled nearer as the volume returned to certain calmness. “Mercy. Don’t think you weak. Don’t think you frail. Know you would suffer willingly with me. But it is in my power to deny that. To deny you ever needing to struggle as I do.”

“You are colony superior. To make these decisions, your right. But what is point in silencing the discord, in recruiting new colonies to the empire, if you refuse to let them help you?” She had no answer. Or if she had, Skthveraachk lacked the thinkers needed to process it into music she could share. They stood, embraced, even as small streams of dirt fell from the ceiling around the larger Queen’s spurs keeping her aloft. “I had feared you refused to join your voice with mine by some wrongdoing of my own. That I had failed your expectations when you returned from the sky.”

“Ridiculous.”

“More ridiculous than your fear of sharing song because you dread becoming a humanite? As if spending cycles near them would cause two of your eyes to fall free. As if hearing them croon out falseness would cause your music to become lies.”

“Yes.” As Ckhehnvraahll clattered laughter, Skthveraachk made a show of slapping her own antennae together. Hoping, begging, it appeared genuine. “Very ridiculous.” The sound of her life reached out, seeking desperately to be understood, to be held by at least one other. At least Ckhehnvraahll. Heart knew it selfish. Mind knew it dangerous. The pale Queen did not ask why their embrace suddenly became harder, tighter, as her bonded rubbed near frantically her hairs into the soft spots of joints and crevices. “Will make bars to share some. Some. Accept there are things I…did, on Dracan, I do not wish to remember. I do not wish you to hear. But you must know, now and forever. Everything I did, and everything I will do. I do to protect my world. I do to protect you.”

“Received, War Queen. I know. I,” A chiming giggle, deeply hollow and yet colored with the scents of absurd laughter. “What would humanites say? I believe? I accept possibility of falsehood?” She was teasing. It had not even occurred to her how different Skthveraachk could be now.

“I trust.”

“Received. I trust Skthveraachk Queen.” Bodies touched and slid throughout the room, sweeping the scuffle marks from the floor and walls. “And I do, trust, many of the humanites. Even if you say they are capable of lies, they must not, cannot always sing untruth. I trust the Anushka and her male soldier officer. I will go to them now, and they will explain, and all will be well.”

“I will-“ Her hairs began to go rigid as Ckhehnvraahll gripped the bumps outside her vents, giving a shake. But trying to be mad at the female was like trying to drink the ocean.

“You will rest. Many measures yet until even these Queens accept terms. Sleep.”

“Soon.”

“Soon?” A bit of dominant warning in that, and it smelled just for a moment as if Skthveraachk was singing again with her mother.

“Confirming statement. Will rest soon.”

“Will keep attendants on this layer to watch and assure.”

“Received.” She helped the rounder Queen from the room, out of the layered defense surrounding the tunnels and back to the main ringed subterranean concourse leading to the landing platforms. Following the fresh markers painted beneath readable signs of direction. Most layers were dark this time of night, naturally unlit or with florescent growths lining the passages. Up here, where humanites may need movement at any angle or absence of sun, cords and strings kept bulbs of light aloft. Patterning the floor with circles of illumination, and casting shadows through arcades of rock and arches of supporting stone. It haloed and cloaked Ckhehnvraahll’s departure, the bob of her gaster as she and her children began the long journey down from the spire of the mountain.

“Queen confused?”

“Not confused.”

“Thinkers sing suggestion. Ckhehnvraahll would comprehend better with examples. Could have sung many lies told the Sovereignty.”

“Unnecessary.”

“Confusion. Would be more expedient. Few reasons not to inform.”

“Cease song of questioning.”

“Do not want Ckhehnvraahll to know? Deliberate withholding of information? Omission is lie. Formites lie to formites?”

“Jelsaah.” A sagging attendant slid around the nearby corner, an action that would have bowled over the usual humanite laborers on this layer had any been present. The empty halls afforded broad tolerance for frantic movement, and any further queries of her intent faded into sugary peace as the Queen cupped the drone and hoisted it up. Squeezing its gaster as their mouths extended and met, fluid spurting from its throat to hers. No longer drones of the other colony to watch for, few calls for attention through the link as the other nests managed themselves and workers of Hollowcore kept to the simplest tasks now that they labored without light. Occasional haulers scuttled past, and as the warmth of the intoxicatingly pleasant drink poured into her, Skthveraachk let the fatigue blanket and cradle her in its legs. Listening to the hammers in the deep. Smelling the fuel and metallic tang from the wyverns outside. Watching the drones come, and go, and come, and go, and pass by the solitary shadow in the passageway without regard.

“Ckhehnvraahll attendant?” Motionlessness was anathema. Menials existed to work. Six-legged silhouette down the hall was merely resting. Watching. Skthveraachk sniffed the air, to identify the stilled thing. Not Ckhehnvraahll. It smelled like her own children. “Skthveraachk daughter. What is problem?” Two more drones passed it by, the Queen’s attention sent to it through their touches. They gently scraped beside it, let their antennae touch and tap, and then continued past. The Queen waited for them to bring her its response. They did not. They walked by unhalted. Annoyance began to fill her as much as the distracting jelsaah, and the Queen waved a leg towards the motionless drone down the passage. “Identify. Skthveraachk daughter has fallen to torpor? Rest not permitted in hall. Transport to garrison. Barracks. Do not obstruct-“

Its legs broke. Bent, backwards, as it stood. Curling so that each outer section of spine popped in place as two, four, six legs hung off its back as it rose on its final two pair. A glint of fang and venom. Jelsaah puddled at the floor from where it spilled down the Queen’s trunk, her throat frozen as confused attendant continued its delivery of the blend. A thing that smelled like them but was not them. A shadow in the tunnels devoid of song or sound. Her hairs were needles and eyes locked, looking at a thing looking back upon her from outside the Composer’s writ. Cooperator. Servant of star-sent.

“Queen?”

“Destroy invader. Annihilate. Consume.”

“Invader? Orders unclear. Restate.”

“Can attendants not see? Can not-…?” Her dread came off her like droplets of humanite salt and scent, and many thumping legs reassuringly patted her. In her grip, the drone full of jelsaah was wriggling in protest, crushed almost empty of its payload with more than half of it soaking both Queen and ground rather than filling a stomach. Her eyes flashed, her head spinning as she sought to locate the broken shape. Only curved pillars in the stone. Only swaying lights on ropes and cords. Accusingly her eyes turned instead to the drone in her claws. Tossing it into wheeling spinning through the air, denying the queries of concern once again, and rushed for the nearest portal to the outer world. Trailing a line of children behind her as she felt the cold mountain air strike her, felt the world spin again in a mixture of juices and hazy thoughts, and contracted her stomach to purge out the debilitating drink freshly nestled in her gut over the rail of the platform. Watching it disappear into the dark far, far below.

Sarcasm. Annoyance masquerading as politeness. Another two spasms emptied whatever was left of the damned drink, and a harsh screech sent two of her attending drones to find water that could replace the hole she now felt inside her. She had not seen the Lieutenant. Did not elect to look at her now, even as the strange scented smoke wafted from the elongated rube held between the other female’s gloved digits.

“Jelsaah is a disorienting drink. Comforting, warm. Does not disagree. Falling asleep in the middle of a song, like a queenling? This disagrees emphatically.”

A conversation. The last thing she especially wanted this moment, but the cold fear from the vision she had seen remained stuck to her even through the warming patting of her children.

“We stop moving and see images of many shapes and colors and sounds and scents crawl and dance before us.”

The Queen looked. Flesh flapped and scrunched over the Miroslava’s eyes, swallowing their color and shine repeatedly.

“And I cannot imagine what it is to shut the world out for bars at a time as your kind sleeps. Unable to see approaching dangers or react to changes as you slumber.” Calm. The bracing air drove away the fatigue, bringing her alertness back to full. “We are usually capable of distinguishing between sights of reality and ghosts of our mind.”

A low snort, the usually pert Lieutenant letting her words come nearer to the kind of drawl Solovyova was known for.

“Whatever a ‘mare’ is, our visions may come in rise or fade both.”

“Comes for us when we are overly fatigued and have had too much drink. That is all.” The humanite shrugged a non-vocal dismissal. Sucking again on the long stick of hardstone, and exhaling a fog of white through her facial holes. Whatever the purpose, the relaxation it brought was clear, and as the beat of the Queen’s own heart slowed, she darted her tongue out to wave it through the fog the female exuded. “You were effective, with the Queens.”

“They cannot comprehend yet. They are trying. Being told you are now a vassal of an empire of billions, we have no scale for it. Even I can only appreciate it, how do you term it, academically?” Her translator and the humanite both gave confirmation, bleep and nod. “They know they will be losing things. It is natural to want new things they can hold, taste, in return.”

Tapping the end of the rod against the railing, the humanite leant forward against the support. It was a dizzying height, and the Queen found herself uncomfortably easing back now that her mind was clearer. There was no such discomfort in the alien, perched above a fall which could kill it ten times over.

“I do not receive.”

“Truth is unspoken and obvious. They would not be angered unless they had lost biomass, lives, rewards.”

A passalidite, somewhere in the trees below the mountains, let out a whistling call. The sound floating up to them all as her drones cooed in happiness at the sound.

“I have disparaged the Coalition before, and will again. Their contention is selfish, their desires counter to an ordered society. Yet,” Danger? No. Trust was a process. Honesty, a choice. “I can comprehend such wants.”

“Long-lived is my colony, Lieutenant. Many colonies are smaller. Many are larger. Many have made attempts at our absorption, singing we would be more prosperous as vassals or servants beneath them. In some cases, they have sung correct. Yet to give autonomy to another completely, to surrender future entirely, demands a lack of belief, of faith, in the self.”

Not accusation. Statement. Still, stung.

“Necessity of action, not enjoyment of it. We are not singing of me.” The alien made a small sound through its throat. “No matter how strong, there is always the voice within us arguing against falling. That even if we are weaker for it, it is better to determine the path ourselves than let another guide us.”

“Can you sing there is nothing you miss the Sovereignty takes from you? Demands, from you?” Haired face furrowed as the Queen pushed just tenthlengths harder. “Even as you assure it worth the loss?”

Fervent, the words were uttered. Softer, more hesitant, came the admission that followed in the silence of beats between the alien and formite.

“There are a great many of them, Lieutenant Miroslava.”

Sucking in the noise, the Lieutenant broke a small smile. The translator clicked as it updated.

“And you say you are yet confused by our Queens?” The Miroslava did not answer, did not hear the truth of it. Skthveraachk chittered at the humor of it, and angled her head sideways so upward eyes could see better the stretch of the infinite black canvas, awash with the lights of stars, of unnamed suns, and even the occasional flash from ships perched high in orbit. “You travel space in vessels possible of traveling impossible distances in a breath. You are possessed of powers over light, sound and mind. You know not hunger or thirst, you fear not death at the jaws of an allomyrite or under weakening miasma of bracktat vapors, and yet of all the joys you can lay claim to, your greatest want is a sight my kind has claimed commonplace for a thousand cycles.”

The Queen looked on the gently hazing, shining stick. One of her children offering to be the vessel of the curious want all nearby shared. Miroslava protested, briefly, when the drone reached to take the tube. But, the exasperation became a choked laugh as the tube was pushed into the side of the smaller formite, closing one of the flaps of its vents over the rod, and sucking deeply through the small entrance. Sputtering and flailing as white mist billowed from its right side, smelling of fruited trees and tarry, sour sludge. The Lieutenant wiped the clinging spittle from half the tube, then, surprisingly, took another draw without hesitation.

“They watch us. They judge and guide. My mother is already among them, as are many of my children. Yes, it is beautiful, Lieutenant. It is very beautiful.” A farewell was needed, mandated by Sovereignty etiquette. Back from the edge of the secured rail, the Queen crossed her scythes in co-opted gesture of farewell, nodding if not bowing her head. “By his light, Lieutenant. May your sleep be unbothered by black specters.”

May her own be as untroubled. Shamefully, once she was off the landing pad, the Queen sent first a few drones to peek around the corner to where the shadow had stood. Nothing, as there ever had been. Feeling like a queenling again as she hurried to the familiar closeness of her private quarters, allotting what few tasks she had remaining to others before allowing the torpor of sleep to take her, willingly this time. And the visions, thankfully, came only as colors of triumph and power. So vivid and certain in their scents that even measures later, when the Queen was truly stood upon a stage of stalks and fungus, drones were tasked to assuring her she was not once again in slumber.

“Proceed! Do not halt! All colonies, welcomed in Hollowcore!”

“Scent markers to apply! Scent markers, designation non-hostile!”

The bellowing speakers on posts caused brief confusion in the wriggling lines of multicolored bodies, but it was just another wonder for them to observe as the metal orbs glinted in the beaming midrise sun. To puzzle over, even as workers patted them down and over, and the tromp of the endless column of Skthveraachk soldiers alongside their ranks turned the base of the mountain into a dusted cloud of activity.

“Number assessment?”

“Tabulating.”

“Low-priority. Do not attach Queen priority ranking.”

“Received.” An accurate count wasn’t necessary. It was clear from the colors alone at least ten colonies had sent probes and parties ranging in size from scouting to foraging. Which was three more at even first numbering than Shlthvelhneekch Queen had guessed would answer.

“You are gloating.”

“I am not.”

“Fewer than half will still agree.”

“At first.” The allied Queen was somewhere in the eighteenth layer, singing an old recital of Sthlehnvaarhn, Slave and Queen, for all to hear. Even Skthveraachk found her gaster bobbing and swaying in time to the spirited music, watching the bodies pour over the bridge of web and corpses into the heart of her nest. “And there may even be one or two who resist. You will be hard with them. Merciful only if it will serve as example to others.”

“Authority of the star-sent will be demonstrated thoroughly if cause called, sister. My soldiers will represent your voice unfailingly. So to prove worthy of the humanite’s assistance.”

“Assistance you should strive to do without, but not at the cost of victory.”

“Once Hhehnstaachlk-Colony begins to meet the quotas you have demanded, our soldiers will have the same armoring and weapons as yours. Twenty measures, maybe thirty. His nests have always been richer in hardstone than mine.” Mass was shared freely, free enough that there was a shameful waste of it crushed beneath claws filling the feeding halls and bodies milling together as memories and music was shared. Frantic. Furiously active. The nest was alive with motion. The scents were already fading, the song she had only just reinforced being lost under the wild shifting currents of life. Her stage creaked. A pair of wyverns soared overhead, their trails bringing tuts of fascination from the drones beneath her, streaming past. The Queen raised voice, raised scythes, and reared high as the mixture of formite and humanite armor sparkled upon her.

“Skthveraachk Queen Magistrate of Skthveraachk-Colony and the Imperial Sovereignty of Earth bids all walk free and welcome! To celebrate and share! The star-sent have come, but there should be not fear! The discord is dying, the turmoil abating! They come not to make slaves or mass of you, but to safeguard your nests and lands. Skthveraachk-Colony does not demand your voices! Skthveraachk-Colony pledges autonomy to all colonies who wish it! Skthveraachk-Colony will fight for you, and asks only for your harmony and support! Be welcome! Be at peace!” She had called once. Few had answered. When she had called again, tenmeasures later, her six nests had become twenty. One vassal had become three. Eight biomass reserves now lay within the marked paths of her scentways. Not since the coming of the Watchers had borders shifted so abruptly, had lands swelled so unobstructed. Fear hid beneath the curiosity in the probes the neighboring nests had sent when she called again. Offers of supplication. Threats and warnings. Questions and requests for assurances. An endless, buzzing drone.

“There will be issue with the colonies in the mountains bordering District 2. They continue to use jelly. They refuse summons, for now, but when they finally accept, they will demand continued use of their slaves.”

“We strike one scythe at a time, brother. There remain plenty colonies and nests before you reach the sopra mountain range. Secure the loyalty of these first. Leave the future battles for the future.”

“It would not need be battle if you consented to their demands.” Skthveraachk shot her head high, her mandibles wide and gnashing at the suggestion. “You cannot promise the colonies retain their independence in the same chord as you dictate what notes of their voices and history much change.”

“Can. Will. Am.” A small fight on layer thirty-two. A pair of feuding colonies had discovered they were both in attendance, and their warning markers sparked a battle in the hall between feeding chambers. It was instinct, not intelligence, and her purple-hued children crushed towards the conflict with bellows which could silence even internalized anger. “Salvation from war. Salvation from hunger. Salvation from practices cruel and unnecessary. They will obey. And be better for it.”

“Received. With only shades of hesitation.”

“Ensure hesitation does not pollute your music.”

“Will not.” Pinging. She was ready to ignore and disconnect the repeatedly chiming pad when the name in her visor shone. Prompting instead a quick and rapid acceptance of the call.

“Captain Devries! Are you witnessing the procession?”

“Ever considerate. But it is celebratory. You should be rejoicing as well.”

His smile, audible. His bones, hidden in the view of her visor.

“My victories are your victories. With agreement of alliance to sibling Shlthvelhneekch Queen, attention may be split evenly. Brother will lead armies in unification of sopra lands until reaching the second district’s borders. Freeing me to focus our expansion towards the alto, and the Sovereignty’s directed goals.”

Her own joy flagged, just a little, at the twitch in the male’s face.

“Shlthvelhneekch Queen is clever, he is cautious, and he is of Sh’e. Recent events,” She nearly sung ‘failures’. Unacceptable. “Indicate I am becoming overtaxed already in my attentions. Divorcing a need for my forces in the sopra valleys will increase efficiency and response times.”

“Formites do not lie.” Unless they had learned how, and Shlthvelhneekch would never be taught. “Trust irrelevant. Trust is for humanites. I do not trust Shlthvelhneekch Queen. I trust Captain Devries.” A strange straining in his laugh, the way his eyes averted to the side. She tried to angle her head more effeminately, showing the tell-tale curve of her skull in reverse concave. The humanite did not seem to notice. “I receive your message. What is required of me?”

“With all due and necessary speed.” She passed song to one of her lesser queens, not wanting to distract her sibling from his telling of the epic. It was a strong statement, a memory which unified while ostracizing none. And so freed of her responsibilities, Skthveraachk passed alongside the tiered platform of formite scentcrafters, who blew hard on horns of bone and pounded drums, and down towards the bridge. Smaller drones readily rotated and flowed around her, shocked at the fearlessness with which she waded into menials of other colonies. Hanging upside-down in their walk over the webbed construction, so the large Queen could remain upright and straight in her direction. Out onto the rings of roads, past the temporarily stilled machines of industry, up lifts into open-aired courtyards filled with aliens as accustomed to her presence now as she was to theirs, and the uncounted banded formites moving between doors and rooms as they assisted in their assigned tasks. The carpet pulled and twisted under claw, threatening to tear from the weight as the Queen slipped into the nearby airseal, her breath coming thinner in the adjusted habitat while the pair of soldiers at the entrance saluted. Respect to the sigil of Magistrate she wore, if not the Queen herself. That respect came solely from the Hathan, waiting for her at the edge of the table’s holographic screen. Identical to the one, if in larger room, that had been in the smaller habs of Ckhehnvraahll’s Last.

“I have wondered, Captain Devries,” Practice. Sounded wrong, still. “Is there some predestined formation of these rooms? It seems regardless of planet, of location, much of the Sovereignty’s architecture could be carved from the same stone.”

“But not too different.”

“Humanites would be overcome with confusion if their hallways weren’t all straight, their windows the exact same height, and ceilings flat as their floors.”

That he picked up on her efforts to joke, and smiled at them, was reward enough for the trip into the humanite sections of her nest. Ruffling her hairs in waves across her body, she bid attendants comb the upward stalks while the Hathan’s back faced her.

“Know the purpose of this communication, Hathan-Captain?”

Better could have meant safer, more suitable, more respectable. She did not have time to ask for clarification; Queen and Captain both stiffened to formality at the shimmer of blue and red, the activation of the falselight lenses. The building flash that, at last, drew out the image of the seated aide. Vestigial distaste crawled from her stomachs, but the Queen pushed it back down.

“The honored Herald has been occupied for the near thirty measures since our arrival on Kayyhaitch. I express hopes I will someday hear his songs directly.” A chair which existed thousandlengths above them in orbit squeaked as the aide leant forward, bypassing the Captain entirely to fix his golden eyes on Skthveraachk.

“My role is to serve the Sovereignty. My hope was only to be more expeditious in the discharge of my duties.” Observant or no, the aide was a humanite. Like all humanites, he enjoyed the deferential flattery. A tug on his lips showed the subject was finished, even before he continued amidst the artificial silence that had come over the other occupants of the room remaining conspicuously busy and turned.

“Absorption is not the goal I was given. Authority and oversight, was. Some, many, will either join by conquest or by submission, but many others will desire continued autonomy. I have established alliance and vassalage agreements with these, and invite more still into my lands for parley.”

“Supervised action, aide Berndsen. I have searched the literary resources your graciously loaned me for a compromise suitable to your purposes.” The Captain did not turn on her, but she saw the slight perch of a questioning brow. Her pride bubbling as she remained squared on the falselight image. “With the assistance of present Sovereignty garrison, and our own technological advancements, our force projection in District 4 has been shown far superior to any resistance thus far. I am seeking to establish my colony as vassal superior to all within the territory, that all colonies will agree to a status as protectorates beneath my military.”

Not a confirmation. Not a rejection, either. The Queen pushed firmer.

“Centralization of force will prevent both conflict and rebellion. Test was made of Hhehnstaachlk-Colony, who has agreed to terms which shall be offered to all within district; the Divine Balance of drones and colony will be upheld, but while thirty percent of all births shall remain soldiers, a summation of seventy percent of these shall be given to my colony, as representative of the Sovereignty, and utilized in the defense of all nests.”

“A small portion should remain, in emergency defense against fauna, against disaster, and for the stability of the colony. But such numbers would be incapable of mounting either effective attack against your species, illustrious aide, nor resisting reprisal assault should they fail in their promises made.” Messages scrolled as the holographic pad was tapped, the aide’s consideration long and well-measured.

“Further examples…may need to be made, affirmation.” Her mandibles rolled. “But I am confident they will see soon resistance is impossible, even with the fullness of their forces. Given the option of surrendering further chance to resist in favor of safety and security, security proven repeatedly against all foes, they will choose logic.”

Tentative smiles were set and frozen, the aide’s own pleasant smirk seeming of a wholly different temperature now.

“I apologize for lack of understanding, Aide. Each colony must be contacted, convinced, enticed-“

“I was told, and told in return that one cannot simply march their colony into the heartlands of the Triumvirate. All are welcome there, but even if I was received to sing in the great chambers, the Triumvirate would never meet with or heed my notes without significant weight behind them. Once the valley is secured, I will proceed to the alto with the voices of tens of nests behind me. Then, they will listen. Then, they will hear.”

The Queen clacked her claws against the hard floor, leaving dull scratches in the metal.

“Other Magistrates.” Something was wrong, here. A stench was working its way into the Queen’s vents. “What other Magistrates have been outpacing my progress?”

“Magistrate Aphoma should focus her efforts on her own territories. She has but a single nest to concern her, and the peacefully secluded lands of the far alto.”

The name now had been spoken more times than Skthveraachk had cared to think of the warped daughter of Sh’e since leaving it aboard the Palamedes.

“Twelve!?” It did not match her own number. It was still beyond anything the spindly, veil-draped papsucker should have been capable of. “Twelve! Restate truth, be assured of accuracy, I question with the loudest of voices that the Aphoma sings truth to you of her achievements!”

Song caught in her shell, the rapid drumming stilled and stalled. Antennae waving in the air, her eyes and head darted to the Hathan, who had kept true to his silent promise. The male quick to pick up on her unspoken request as she regathered her scattered notes.

“Unnecessary!” Harsh were her sounds, heavy was the stamp of one of her foreclaws. “Recent decisions have freed my forces all but entirely. We will be marching towards the alto-most colonies this side of the mountain cliffs within a threemeasure.”

She could not see the screen the aide used, but with a few taps of his fingers, it was the Captain’s pad which chimed receipt of whatever had been done.

“My request.”

Fury. Entrapment. Refuse and decry the Dame, risking damage to own reputation amidst her overlords, or accept whatever this gesture was, and all the threats which no doubt accompanied. Damn to the sky that female and her battlefield of dialogue.

“I am always seeking to learn, aide Berndsen. Dame Regina Costa is font of knowledge and tutelage, when appreciated in the correct light and angle.”

Devries’ voice was not expected to be pleased. Neither did she anticipate the sheer incredulity contained within his pitch.

The man did not even attempt to mask his displeasure. The aide, respectively, did not mask his own disinterest in it.

They saluted. Waited until it was returned, until the flickering lights faded away and the image dissolved. The eruption of sound, while simultaneous, was anything but harmonious.

“Let meddlesome aliens be torn at the midsection, their meat withdrawn on rolling scythes…!”

“-peel her, cut her into thorax, gaster, and head, then give the pieces to the breeding nests so they can rut-“

“-and when her insides are out and her outsides are in, the caustic spit of my voice will make her each breath a torment unfathomable!” They turned on one another, sucked a breath, and in perfect unison, sung the same words together. “I’m sorry.”

“For believing the Aphoma and other magistrates would not push just as hard, harder, to impress your superiors with their zeal. For thinking my efforts thus far suitable. You are sorry?”

“I cannot hold you accountable for the machinations of your species.” Hairs were up on drones all around her, though they ensured to bundle about her legs rather than risk damaging either equipment or aliens within the room itself. “The battleground is new. The tactics are not. A skirmishing foray, a stab at distance before retreating. The Dame will await my counter, will be expecting it. Thinkers shall be tasked. Power? Your Sovereignty is meant to be united.” One of the colonies. They had come from the alto, not the sopra. The Dame was a future concern, priority was to the current mission. Calls were made through the link, whistled from scouts and relays positioned around the nest to bring the emissary. “What does this humanite seek to gain with such…obstructing games?”

Pinching fingers against the rise of his facial holes, the male’s smooth yet valleyed features retained a pleasing shape even in his disquiet.

“I am tasked with the unification of hundreds of thousands, of millions. I do not have the patience for games.”

Sucking a breath, composure returned to them both as the air was shared. Reassuring set of lips shone to her.

“I will not retreat from her challenge.” A beat. Menders trilled condemnation and thinkers muttered at her proclamation, until their combined sensibility beat back the pride that had clouded her eyes. “But, I will thank such efforts. In case they much be used. What we do is too important.”

Upset and unhappiness. This was the first time in measures she had seen the Captain in person, and already, he was brushing down his uniform shell and showing her his back.

“Such is acceptable.” Too many humanites present. Improper to offer more than such niceties. Besides, perhaps, a little addition. “I will be, looking forward, to such interaction.” The effect was good. A look over his shoulder, a firm nod. Good, but not the desired one. The licking slickness of the airseal sliding along her body as she emerged to the open sky once again like a hundred tongues over her body was unwanted, unenjoyed, and she cursed both the humanite language and the depth of its subtly when desires instead were simple. Simple. Desires, likely, suboptimal word, perhaps merely ‘wants’ or ‘wishes’…irrelevant! The emissary had been summoned. The drone and its colony, escorted from the central chambers to more private offshoots and tunnels. The Herald’s voice wished her go to the alto. Then to the alto she would go. And anything, everything, between her and her goals, would either bow, or be swept aside.