P'Thok had gotten older, something that was unusual for his sex, his caste, his species.

Usually a warrior Treana'ad lived to the grand old age of "Got his head eaten by a female."

But the War of Terran Aggression had changed all of that.

P'Thok had wrested from the Terrans, through might and cleverness, the secrets of tobacco, of ice cream. He had captured moomoos in a daring midnight raid on a heavily fortified Terran food world. He had been present when the Matron Mi'Luki had lead the diplomatic party to force the Terrans into a peace treaty that returned the vitally important hatching planets to the Treana'ad people.

Since then he had done the unthinkable.

He had gotten to know his progeny.

He had visited Terra, home to the most aggressive technologically adept space traveling predator omnivore mammal in the known universe. He had been treated with honor, even spoken at their military academies.

He had led investigations into crimes.

He had even released an album where he sang songs and appeared in visual media.

He had not gotten his head eaten by a matron.

Which is why he was still alive, standing in one of the great barns on Grand Matron Mi'Luki's estate, petting the soft fur on the nose of a moomoo with one bladearm while he stared at the night.

He had woken up from strange dreams.

Dreams of his infiltration of TerraSol.

Dreams of escaping hordes of Terran young as they chased him as he fled in the armored ice cream transport.

Dreams of the terrible last battle he had taken part in.

He had woken up and left the manor, pausing to gaze at the grub chamber, then gone out to the barn.

He wore his sarape, his moomoo tender hat, and the crossed belts with his guns. One had peppermint wheels at the side and frosting decorations.

Beside him the XAVA was curled up in the hay, snoring, with little Zzzz's appearing over its head in hologram.

The night was full of the sound of carefully imported insects called cicadas which soothed the moomoos during the heat of the summer.

Despite the heat, despite the warmth of the night, P'Thok still felt a chill.

The door at the far end of the barn opened and P'Thok saw something that he knew no other Treana'ad before him had ever seen.

His own grand-progeny.

The young female came in, puffing on a power smoker, filling the air around her with the smell of blue candy sugar-rush. She stopped and let out two long clouds of the sweet smelling smoke.

"What is it, grand-daughter?" P'Thok asked.

Grand-daughter. An odd word.

P'Thok was the first warrior Treana'ad to ever use the word.

"Terrible tidings, oh patron," the female, Shi'Luki said.

P'Thok noticed that the young female was rubbing her wings together and sharpening her bladearms. He could smell the sharp sour odor of fear from her even through the cloud of powersmoker vapor.

"What is it?" P'Thok said. He turned and faced the young female, expressing pleasure at seeing her, and reached out to touch her arm.

She nodded jerkily, taking another hit off the powersmoker and exhaling another cloud of sweet smelling smoke.

She pulled the powersmoker from her mouth, agitation showing in every movement.

"It is terrible, grand-sire!" Shi'Luki said.

"Tell me," P'Thok said gently.

His grand-daughter took a deep breath.

"The Mantid have glassed TerraSol! They glassed Pubvia! The Pubvians are extinct! The Mantid are attempting to take control of the Sol System! The fighting is terrible! Billions are dead!" Shi'Luki said.

P'Thok felt the cigarette in his mouth drop into the dirt at his feet.

"The Terrans are already counter-attacking! They've landed on Mantid Prime! Millions of troops are dead already but the Terrans keep coming!" Shi'Luki blurted out, half screeching.

"The Mantid just came into the system with four battle-groups and are demanding our surrender! The Queens have elected Mi'Luki as the War Queen and are demanding your presence!" his grand-daughter said.

P'Thok felt an odd coolness fill him as he bent down and picked up his cigarette.

"Are you going to die, grand-sire?" Shi'Luki asked.

Putting his thumbs in his gunbelts P'Thok headed toward the door.

"No, sweetling," he said.

He paused at the door.

"We Treana'ad are a clever and powerful people," P'Thok said. He pointed at the moomoo. "Pet and soothe the moomoo, I must consult with your mother and your grandmother."

Shi'Luki just nodded jerkily.

As he walked out into the yard, heading for the manor, the looked up.

"What have you fools done?" he asked the night sky. "What terrible thing that lay dreaming have you unleashed?"

The stars didn't answer.