Prologue

Xixxnoir, commander of advance scout ship 265443, of the Blagtox confederation, unfurled his two primary tentacles and entwined them behind his back as he paced the bridge.

“Approach the parking orbit with care, Lieutenant. This planet has weapons that have the potential to be able to reach us.”

“Give me a break, Sir,” said Rilpak, the engineer and second in command of the mission. “We’d see them coming long before they were a danger to us, and we can fly circles around anything they have here.”

“Anything we know they have here,” corrected the captain, still pacing. “I’ve been doing this a long time. You are beyond the pupal stage by only what ... fifty or sixty years? Do as I say. We’ll park behind their moon. There will be time enough to be seen once the terms and conditions for surrender have been delivered.”

“As you say, Sir,” said the engineer, his minor tentacles flashing here and there, adjusting knobs and pushing sliders. Half an hour later he announced they were in a stable parking orbit.

A horn sounded and three compartments in one wall unsealed, letting out puffs of gas. It took another half hour for the three crew members in them to become fully functional after the suspended animation that had kept them from aging while the scout ship traveled to its destination. Munwavvatii, the mission psychologist and first contact specialist took charge, full of himself and overly dramatic, as usual.

“Advance Scout Lieutenant Izzlestax!” he snapped. “As per regulations, to ensure that suspended animation didn’t addle your brain, tell me what your primary and secondary missions are on the target planet!”

Izzlestax, a four foot tall cone of blue-green flesh with two primary tentacles and four secondary ones, stiffened his jelly-like appearance.

“Sir!” he shouted. “I will merge my mind into the body of an Earthling, and then use that Earthling to deliver the terms and conditions of surrender to the leader of the nation in which my host is located. That is my primary mission. While completing that mission, I will confirm intel already received, and gather additional information of benefit to our mission, transmitting it to you on a regular basis!”

“Excellent,” purred Munwavvatii. “I understand you have inhabited the bodies of aliens before this.”

“Once, Sir,” said Izzlestax, still stiff. “It was a marine predator, Sir. Very stupid. They turned out to be suitable only as food, Sir.”

“Ahhh,” said the psychologist. “That was on Barduk, then. I’ve vacationed there. Very nice climate. And the natives really are delicious. Tell me. What was it like to be in the mind of something that unintelligent?”

The mass of blue green flesh vibrated briefly, but then returned to stiffness.

“It wasn’t any fun, Sir,” said the scout. “They had to pull me out before I lost it. Had to skip over the normal separation procedure. It wasn’t pretty, Sir. I thought I could live under water for quite a while.”

“But you’ve recovered now?”

“Of course, Sir. I’m ready to go, Sir.”

“All right then,” said the psychologist. He looked at the other first contact scout awakened thus far, who was immediately below Lieutenant Izzlestax in the chain of command. “Advance Scout Sergeant Dulpprizwa, assist your compatriot into the transfer station. Ensure you can achieve mind meld with him. You will be the primary monitor of his mental transmissions during the mission, unless you are required to go down there for some reason.”

Izzlestax was placed in a clear plastic tube, surrounded by wires. Contacts from these wires were inserted into his ectoplasm at strategic points. Munwavvatii, meanwhile, hovered over the transfer board that would send the essence of Izzlestax’s intelligence into the brain of a native on the planet below. For possibly the thousandth time, the first contact specialist wished they could target the sending to a specific native. It would make things so much easier if the advance scout could take over the mind and body of the actual leader of a planet, rather than some random citizen. Nobody understood it yet, but once an advance scout’s mental probe reached a planet, it somehow identified the strongest predatory mind within range and was attracted to it. Of course the best predators were almost always the ones in control. Predators loved to be in control. And the Blagtox were the most predatory species in the empire. At least thus far. Munwavvatii flicked switches and adjusted dials to take into account the mass of the moon behind which they were hiding.

“Transfer ready?” called the psychologist to the two advance scouts.

“Transfer ready!” they both called back.

“Request permission to transfer!” said Munwavvatii.

“Permission granted,” said Captain Xixxnoir, sounding bored. He’d seen this dozens of times before. At least the natives on the planet below them had sufficient technology that it clearly demonstrated basic intelligence. He hated dealing with stupid natives when it came to demanding they surrender to the whims of the empire. Beings who had a sufficient level of technology were always smart enough to recognize superior empire tech when they saw it, and they always surrendered. Always. The trick was ensuring that the natives didn’t destroy themselves, or at least use up too many resources in the process of being defeated and then surrendering.

One of Munwavvatii’s primary tentacles pressed a button. The light in the tube surrounding Izzlestax turned to blue and his gelatinous body relaxed, becoming almost round as all conscious control of it left the ship with the advance scout’s mental identity.