“Of course not,” she said angrily.
“Exactly. You will work hard to prevent those things. Soldiers must care about their well-being to be effective.”
“They’re still smarter than we are.”
“Perhaps,” Sixty-Two admitted, “but we are tougher.”
Fourteen
The Parent did as the Empress had commanded. She specially seeded one her wombs and after the new offspring quickened to the stage of ravenous larva, she gave birth to a single nife. Days later, she crouched upon her birthing throne of brown, secreted resins and reflected upon her fate. Nothing could be more depressing than giving birth to the engine of one’s own demise. At least the new offspring was easy to pass-nothing like the painful labor required to produce one of the massive juggers.
Another few weeks went by while the nife commander matured. The Parent busied herself during this time with organizational details. The Empress had at least given her the go-ahead to prepare the planetary assault formations. She focused on these matters intently, and avoided visiting the imperial chambers. Fortunately, the Empress did not summon her.
The problem of producing an effective invasion force was not a simple one. Normally, the Skaintz Imperium would have seeded and grown their landing craft, for example, using manufactured metals only for propulsion systems and armament. Since organic base materials were in short supply however, she decided to use more metal and less bio-organic mass in these critical spacecraft. The fast majority of the available organics had to be converted into troops to man the ships.
Given these restrictions, defensive fighters and landing craft were the easiest to produce. Gladius was huge and full of spare parts. Using these with the cunning of their species, she ordered the Imperium trachs and hests to build thirty fighters and a matching complement of assault vehicles.
These ships were half-built by the time the big day arrived, the day when her new high-born offspring was ready to assume his adult duties. The nife quickly came to visit her, which was unsurprising.
“I have arrived!” he announced, as if every trach, hest and scampering larvae present should turn their immediate and full attention to him. He commenced parading up and down in front of her birthing throne in swaggering fashion. This was typical behavior for his type, but she still found it instantly irritating.
She did not respond to the nife immediately. She was too busy straining to relieve herself of four new trachs. These were large, dumb larvae designed for manual labor. Their bodies were bulky and table-shaped with a single heavy claw mounted on the back for lifting. The Parent resolved not to attempt gestating four of them at the same time in the future-if she had much of a future, which she doubted. When producing four identical offspring, they tended to all want to be born on the same day and the results were excruciating.
“Welcome to the Imperial Mothership,” the Parent finally said. “Have you had time to review our forces? I await your suggestions.”
“I’d rather review your person!” he said suggestively.
The Parent made a dismissive noise with her foodtube.
Enthusiasm undiminished, the nife held his cusps high, eyeing her with a smug expression she immediately disapproved of. Now that he was standing near, she felt a rush of hormones. In the presence of a rare male of her species, it was only natural. But she simultaneously found she disliked him on an intellectual level.
“Rudeness is not becoming in one so young,” she admonished.
Oddly, the nife did not look crestfallen due to her rebuke. Instead, he stopped pacing and stepped closer to the birthing throne. Brazenly close.
“This is not the reception I expected,” he said.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but we must prepare a critical invasion, and since you’ve only just matured-”
“Ahem,” said the nife, interrupting. “I’ve discussed this matter with the Empress. In fact, I’ve just come from her chambers. A fine-looking creature she is. I compliment you on your production of such a magnificent being.”
Flattered and alarmed at the same time, the Parent didn’t know quite what to say.
“Perhaps you’ve forgotten the Empress’ commands?” the nife said gently. He released a gush of pheromones, and such was the power of them in such proximity, the Parent felt light-headed. She’d never smelled a male before. It was intoxicating.
“Ah-of course she did. But there are so many other matters to attend to.”
“No, no,” the nife said. “Nothing is more critical than obeying the commands of one’s own Empress.”
He circled her and stood behind the throne. She could feel his bodyheat, almost touching her.
“I–I suppose not,” she said.
Then, before she quite realized what was happening, she felt the nife mating with her. A part of her protested. This was all wrong. He was incredibly young and had spent no more than a few moments courting her. He was her own offspring as well, a circumstance which wasn’t the best for genetic perfection. Normally, she would have mated with an experienced, proven nife from another colony. There were none available, but still it seemed improper.
She considered ending the indignity. She had powerful tentacles, which were quite capable of ripping him from her posterior and dashing him to the deck. But she didn’t do it.
If the Empress had not commanded this action be taken, she would never have allowed this. She swore to herself that she would have put a stop to it. But as it was, she bore the indignity-and to a surprising degree she found that she enjoyed it. After the act had been completed, the nife looked more smug than ever. She glowered at him resentfully.
“I’ll be off to perform that inspection now,” he said. “Rest easy in the knowledge that a true professional is at the helm! You will not be disappointed in my performance-on or off the throne.”
She grunted at him and flapped a tentacle, waving him away.
Hours later, within her womb, she felt four new Parents attach themselves to her organic receptors. Four at once-it had been an unusually successful mating.
Her natural pride at the accomplishment was dampened by the knowledge that when these new offspring matured, they were destined to replace her. Her own young would unfailingly execute the will of the Empress.
They would come to this very chamber to pay their respects to their own Parent, and then they would space her alive. It was a depressing thought.
The nife commander came to visit the Parent again the very next day. This time, she felt much less intrigued by his wafted scents. His swagger was annoying, rather than intriguing. He paraded in front of her birthing throne, but this elicited nothing more than a whistling sigh from her.
“What are you thinking about?” the nife asked suggestively.
“I’m wondering when you are going to stop strutting about and make your report.”
The nife’s stalks lowered, taking his cusps with it. His orbs were barely visible. “I see,” he said haughtily. “I had thought perhaps another interlude was required-”
“Think again. All four of my chambers have been seeded.”
“Really? On the first try?”
“I’ve said as much.”
The nife puffed up again, but this time with pride rather than hopes of a repeat mating. “I’d no idea. This will not be forgotten. I’ll retell the story-”
The Parent slapped a tentacle loudly. The report boomed and echoed from the walls. She’d learned this technique of gaining the attention of smaller underlings from the Empress. The effect was gratifying. The nife looked startled-and even more importantly, he shut up about the mating.
“Very well then,” he said. “Let me say my report of our situation is grim. We are running out of time, and your choices regarding vehicle production were amateurish at best.”
“Specify.”
“An even number of fighters and landing craft? Preposterous! The customary number is two fighters-preferably three-for every assault vehicle full of vulnerable troops.”