Chapter 15: Monarch

“Where are we going now?” Walker complained, “are you going to throw me off a cliff to see if I can fly?”

The Drones who were serving as his escort were tightly packed around him as they made their way down a sloping tunnel, winding ever deeper into the darkest recesses of the colony. The further beneath the ground they ventured, the warmer and more humid the air became, until Walker was sweating like he was sitting in a sauna. Fortunately, his fatigues had been returned to him that night after his lengthy and exhausting session with the Pilot, but his shorts had been unsalvageable. The Bugs had no need for clothing, no knowledge of it, and so his pants and jacket had become quite tattered and stained during his stay in the hive. His boots were perhaps the only thing that had endured.

It was odd when he thought about it. The Krell, the Borealans and the Betelgeusians all went barefoot. The invention of shoes, and the subsequent dependence on them, seemed to be a quirk that was entirely unique to humans. Deprive a man of his boots and a simple walk through a forest would leave him injured and bloody.

It was then that Walker smelled it. A trace of a scent that lingered on the air, powerful, somehow regal. The attitude of the Drones suddenly changed, not quite nervous, but certainly exhibiting a kind of quiet excitement that manifested itself as puffs of anticipatory pheromones and an eager clicking of their mandibles.

The scent was not entirely unknown to Walker, he had picked up traces of it back in the Warrior hangar when the Pilot had been communicating with her console. The feelings that it inspired in him were subtle, but they were there. It conveyed authority, status, he would have to keep his wits about him so as not to be unduly influenced.

He had some idea of where they might be headed now, it must finally be time to meet the ruler of this underground kingdom.

They walked for a while longer. As usual, the dirt passages were only distinguishable by their scents, this new smell growing stronger as they neared their destination. Walker began to notice more Bugs milling about in the tunnels, mostly Workers and a few of the lumbering Repletes. They seemed far away from their usual tasks, were they perhaps attendants of some kind?

Once again his brain was doing its best to translate the alien signals from his implanted organ, drawing parallels with memories and familiar themes. The new smell brought to mind images of admirals and generals, kings of old wielding finely embroidered banners and sporting ornate crowns that were inlaid with all manner of precious gemstones. He suddenly felt as if he would soon be brought before some president or admiral, and for a brief moment, he missed his dress blues. It didn’t take a genius to understand what his new sense was telling him. He was being brought before the Queen.

The dirt tunnel began to widen, Workers scurrying out of the way of Walker and his party of Drones as they marched on, their colorful shells glinting under the moss lighting that clung to the ceiling. There were more cameras here, their round, black lenses tracking him as he passed by them. The eyes of the Queen no doubt, she must have been watching his every move since he had arrived.

What was her game? Why go through all of this trouble? Did they want to induct him into the hive, perhaps attempt to glean UNN secrets from him through what they considered to be kindness? The two races had been at war for decades, maybe they were growing tired of the conflict, and this was their way of seeking an alternate means of overcoming their enemy? As the old saying goes, it’s easier to catch flies with honey than with vinegar.

The passage eventually widened into a large chamber, domed, but with a lower ceiling than those of the factory or the hangar. There were guards here, Drones armed with plasma pistols and shield projectors, along with dozens of short Workers. Repletes seemed to be coming and going. Some were full of nutritious fluid, their gait hunched and ponderous, while others walked upright with their pouches drained of honey. They were clearly delivering food to the Queen and her entourage.

Security seemed much tighter here, gelatinous cameras practically lined the walls now, and there were guards posted every few feet.

The party stopped before what appeared to be a sheer wall, about the size of an aircraft hangar’s door. Walker knew better, and his assumption was confirmed as one of his escorts stepped forward to interact with a jelly-like mass that clung to the dirt like a limpet. Another organic switch no doubt. There was a rumbling as the wall split in two, a pair of sliding doors parting to the left and right like some kind of alien bank vault. They were thick, fortified. Despite his incarceration, Walker retained his military mind, seeing things through the eyes of a soldier. He imagined that if a UNN strike force made it this far, getting through these heavy doors would be nigh impossible, at least without carting down equipment that would be extremely difficult to transport through these tunnels.

They stepped through the opening, the doors quickly closing behind them, and Walker’s mouth hung agape at the sight that lay before him.

Hanging from the ceiling like some kind of grotesque chandelier was a massive, fleshy sack, its pink surface glistening with moisture and shifting as if it was alive. It was suspended perhaps a foot off the floor by an armored cable that disappeared into the dirt roof, covered in jointed armor plates and no doubt packed with muscle. He recognized it as Bug carapace, a shade of iridescent blue, the hues shifting under the dull glow of the bioluminescent lights. It almost looked like a tail.

The great mass turned, twisting on its organic rope, coming to face him.

It was a Betelgeusian of impressive size, she would have been twelve feet or more if she had been standing on her long legs. Instead, she sat upon the fleshy pouch, as if it were some kind of living throne. Her upper arms were as long as a Pilot was tall, the second pair of lesser size as they rested on the fleshy folds of her organic seat. Her legs were long, with thick joints and round thighs packed with muscle that would support what must be considerable weight. It was as if someone had taken a Drone and blown it up to enormous proportions, the carapace of the torso and chest retaining its recognizable configuration.

The largest difference occurred above the shoulders. The Queen’s neck was long and near as thick as her torso in order to support an imposing headdress, so large that several humans could have sat upon it and used her skull as a damned rowboat. It was flared into a rough triangle, with her face at the nearest point, the tips of which tapered into rounded antlers. Extending from her forehead was the most elaborate and ornate horn that Walker has seen thus far. It must have been three feet tall, with beautiful, branching prongs that had an almost fractal quality about them.

She had the round, blue eyes that were common amongst her kind, large and expressive. They were ringed by purple discoloration, almost like she was wearing a mask, the same coloring visible on her modest mandibles and between the joints of her armored carapace.

Extending from her back was a large apparatus that anchored her to the fleshy pouch, the pulsing meat vanishing beneath the hard exoskeleton like an armored rib cage. The stout cable was attached to it, clearly a part of her massive body. It looked as if the mass had been grafted to her back.

The fleshy throne was obviously a giant egg sack, a large ovipositor visible beneath her, its muscular opening clamped shut for the time being. The chamber was full of eggs, round, pasty spheres about the size of a soccer ball. The Workers were tending to them, moving them around and stacking them about the walls.

The Queen looked him over with her expressive, blue eyes, her mouthparts twitching gently.

<DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?>

Her pheromones were so powerful. It was like being hit by a wall of force, demanding subservience. He fought against his instincts, getting the feeling that he was committing some grave social faux-pas, but knowing better as he suppressed the unwanted impulses from his grafted organ. Ignore the underlying signals, don’t let them influence you. Focus only on her words.

“I do,” he stated, the Drones standing nearby with their weapons ready should he attempt to attack their monarch. “Though it won’t do you much good, I can’t speak your language.”

<BUT I CAN UNDERSTAND YOURS.>

He was shocked, taken aback for a moment. She had understood him, how?

<I SEE THAT YOUR BODY CAN ONLY CONVEY EMOTION, AND THAT THE PHEROMONE GLAND WE IMPLANTED WITHIN YOUR BODY CANNOT REPRODUCE MORE COMPLEX SCENTS. AN INCONVENIENCE, BUT NOT UNFORESEEN.>

She was so eloquent compared to the other Bugs, was she just that much smarter than they were, or was she dumbing down her pheromones so that he might understand them better? He had made great strides in deciphering their language over the last few days, perhaps he had advanced to a level where he could make sense of the more subtle and complex scents that she exuded.

“You have me at a disadvantage. You understand my language. How?”

<YOUR VIBRATIONS ARE CONVEYED THROUGH THE AIR, I HAVE STUDIED THEM.>

The radio signals, of course. If she was able to jam them, then she could listen in on them too. Even so, learning enough English to hold a conversation in only a matter of days ... it was an impressive feat. She was intelligent, perhaps moreso than he knew. Best to tread carefully.

“I take it you’re the Queen of this hive? The mother of these Bugs?”

<I AM WHAT YOU WOULD CALL A QUEEN, YES. I SENSE THAT THIS REVELATION DOES NOT SURPRISE YOU. WHY?>

“We have social insects back on my home planet, you’re not unusual. I had theorized that some kind of Queen must exist somewhere within the colony.”

<WHAT IS AN INSECT?>

“You’re an insect, that’s your classification. You have six limbs, an exoskeleton, you breathe through tracheae in your abdomens. I’m a mammal. I have an endoskeleton, warm blood, I have four limbs, and I breathe through a pair of lungs.”

<YOU ARE KNOWLEDGEABLE IN THESE MATTERS?>

“More than most.”

<THEN TELL ME, ALIEN. WHAT ARE YOU?>

“What do you mean?” Walker shot back, confused. “You know what I am. I’m a human, of the UNN. Our species are at war, this can’t be news to you.”

<YOU MISUNDERSTAND. TELL ME WHAT YOU ARE.>

What was she asking? Did she want his rank and serial number?

“My name is Walker, my rank is Sergeant. I’m a scout sniper of the Marine Corps, currently serving under Captain Stavros of the Thermopylae.”

<SCOUT SNIPER? ELABORATE.>

“I serve a similar function to your winged Drones. My job is to locate the enemy and report on their positions and numbers, collect intelligence. Sometimes my job involves fighting too.”

<I WENT TO SOME LENGTHS TO DETERMINE YOUR CASTE, SCOUT SNIPER. YOU ARE NOT A WORKER, YOU ARE NOT A REPLETE, YOU ARE NOT A PILOT. I WOULD NOT HAVE ANTICIPATED THAT YOU WERE A MALE, BUT I EVENTUALLY DEDUCED AS MUCH.>

Male? She must mean the winged Drones. Males seemed exceedingly rare in the hive, he had not encountered any thus far, only those that had been sent out into the field where they were similarly scarce in comparison to the larger numbers of females.

“Why does that surprise you?”

<MALES ARE PRECIOUS, THEY CARRY THE SEED. IS THIS UNKNOWN TO YOU?>

“My species reproduces quite differently to yours. Males have no more value than females.”

The Queen released a pheromone, compelling a Drone to leave its post and walk before her. Walker recognized the shell on its back that protected its wings, this was a male. Were all of her guards male? It would make sense, they could both defend her from incursions into the hive, and they would always be on hand to provide her with fresh sperm.

<YOU SPEAK OF RANK. I HAVE SEEN THIS MENTIONED IN YOUR COMMUNICATIONS, AN HONORIFIC. WHAT IS YOUR PLACE IN THIS HIERARCHY?>

“Fairly high. High enough to parlay, if that’s what you’re after.”

<WHAT IS PARLEY?>

“I can negotiate, make deals. I assume that’s the only reason that I’m still alive?”

<THEN ... YOU DO NOT KNOW WHY YOU WERE BROUGHT HERE?>

She seemed unpleasantly surprised, as if there was something important that he had missed.

“I don’t know why you kidnapped me, no. Your kind has never taken captives before. You only kill,” he spat, making no effort to disguise his contempt.

<YOU HAVE TOURED MY HIVE, DOES IT PLEASE YOU? WILL IT BE OF USE?>

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he complained, becoming frustrated. “What do you mean, will it be of use?”

<I AM TROUBLED, SCOUT SNIPER. DOES YOUR HIVE NOT ACCEPT OUR SURRENDER?>

Walker’s eyes widened, his heart seeming to stop in his chest.

“S-Surrender? You’re surrendering? I don’t understand.”

If it was true, it could mean the end of the war on Jarilo, but no hive had ever surrendered before. The Bugs were practically mindless, fighting to the death in all cases regardless of the odds. That was one of the reasons that capturing live specimens for study had proven to be so difficult. The insects were selfless and driven, dying for their cause without any hesitation. Why would they surrender now, when they had seemingly pushed the UNN forces on Jarilo into a corner? Had the war on the surface been going far worse since Walker’s imprisonment? It didn’t seem likely.

<WHEN ONE HIVE DEFEATS ANOTHER, THE VICTOR ABSORBS THE LOSER. DOES THIS NOT RESULT IN A STRENGTHENING OF BOTH COLONIES?>

“Wait, wait,” Walker said as he tried to get his head around these new revelations. “You’re implying that Bugs fight other Bugs? Why?”

<THERE IS CONFLICT BETWEEN ALL HIVES.>

Walker wanted to protest, to demand to know the reason behind such insanity, but then he remembered the early history of humanity. There had been countless wars between countries and factions, even wars between colonies in the early days of the expansion into space. It was not until they had encountered a common enemy that the human race had unified under one flag. Even today, some of those alliances were shaky. It was but a few months ago that he had fought to recapture a rebel colony on Hades.

“Why is there conflict? Are you not united as a species?”

<TERRITORY IS FINITE, SCOUT SNIPER. YOU KNOW THIS AS WELL AS I, OR YOUR HIVE SHIPS WOULD NOT BE IN ORBIT OVER MY DOMAIN. WHEN A QUEEN IS BIRTHED, SHE MUST LEAVE TO START A NEW COLONY. SHE MUST TAKE HER FIRST BROOD OF WORKERS, BUILD A HIVE SHIP, AND THEN LEAVE FOR A NEW PLANET. TWO HIVES CANNOT SHARE A WORLD.>

Like many ant species on Earth, the new Queens had to leave the hive of their birth and found their own colony, a nuptial flight. As a spacefaring species, that took the form of leaving the planet itself and crossing the interstellar void in search of a new home.

No wonder the Coalition and the Betelgeusians were at odds, their very method of reproduction created intense competition for fertile worlds. The Admirals had been laboring under the misapprehension that the Bugs were a unified threat, a ruthless empire that was encroaching on Coalition space. Instead, they were fighting each other for living space as much as they were fighting the rest of the Galaxy. It was an endless civil war that spanned across dozens, perhaps hundreds of star systems. This information could turn the tide of the war in the UNN’s favor.

“And why are you surrendering? What does surrender entail?”

<YOU DESTROYED MY HIVE SHIPS, WITHOUT THEM OUR NUMBERS AND SUPPLIES ARE DWINDLING. WE LACK THE NECESSARY RESOURCES TO MAINTAIN OUR COLONY. I CANNOT PRODUCE SOLDIERS FAST ENOUGH, MY REPLETES CANNOT HARVEST ENOUGH BIOMASS TO FEED THE HIVE, AND EACH ATTACK DIMINISHES MY ARMY WHETHER IT IS SUCCESSFUL OR IT IS REPELLED.>

Jesus, if this was a Bug hive at a fraction of its potential strength, it was no wonder that the war had been dragging on for so long. He steeled himself, trying not to sound as if this was a revelation to him. The last thing he wanted was to make the Queen think that her position was less precarious than she thought it to be.

“You can’t sustain your numbers, can’t hold your position on Jarilo? So what exactly are you offering?”

<WHEN ONE HIVE FINDS ITSELF ON THE BRINK OF EXTINCTION, ITS QUEEN MAY PROPOSE A MERGER. IF YOUR QUEEN DEEMS THAT WE HAVE FOUGHT WELL, AND THAT OUR GENETIC MATERIAL WILL BE OF VALUE TO HER BROOD, THEN WE WILL SUBMIT, AND MY CHILDREN WILL FOLLOW HER. THIS IS SELDOM DONE, MORE OFTEN THAN NOT THE VICTOR DEEMS THE VANQUISHED HIVE UNWORTHY AND EXTERMINATES THEIR BLOODLINE. YOU ARE UNUSUAL HOWEVER, ALIEN. I HAVE HOPE THAT MY PEOPLE MIGHT SURVIVE.>

Walker couldn’t believe his ears, or rather his nose. To him, it sounded as if the Queen was making a bid to join the Coalition. She hadn’t used those words exactly, and some of the meaning had no doubt been lost in translation, but that was essentially what she was asking of him.