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“Thank god,” Bar’in muttered, too low for the tablet’s microphone to pick him up. “I thought Sazahk was going to get us court-martialed.”
“We’re not out of the woods on that yet.” Patrick rolled his shoulders back and shrugged on the Klah’Eel confidence that made him seem two feet taller than he was. He lifted his chin and stepped into the view of the tablet’s camera. “This is Patrick Smith, Battalion Four, Squ—”
“We know who you are!” A familiar voice made Fal’ran’s upper lip curl with disgust. General Yal’rest. Fal’ran moved to the side to see the small screen while staying off camera. One side of the tablet peered into a room full of klah’eel that looked like it was on Base Givast. The other side of the tablet showed a larger room full of qesh. “Now tell us where you are.”
“Sir.” Patrick inclined his head, the very picture of professionalism, but his hands twitched. “I don’t have that information—”
“Typical.” Yal’rest’s nose wrinkled, and he glanced at the klah’eel across the table. The other man had a higher rank, if Fal’ran remembered his uniform lessons. War Minister Hashi, maybe.
Patrick continued as though Yal’rest hadn’t interrupted. “But everyone on this team is wearing a Qeshian-military-grade translator earpiece from Emissary Serihk. We left Qesha’s orbit approximately two station hours ago, which should put us within tracking distance of Qeshian Intelligence, if Emissary Serihk still has the serial numbers.”
Murmurs rippled through the room of qesh as all heads turned to a qeshian man near the head of the table. “I do.” The man tapped his tablet a few times and passed it across the table to another qeshian man in an intimidating, all black uniform.
“This will work.” The black-clad man passed the tablet to a woman behind him, who took it and left the room. “My team will handle it.”
Patrick went on, “And while I don’t know exactly where this ship is heading, I know it hasn’t changed course since my team took control of it. And I know the significance of our destination to the Insects.” Patrick’s throat bobbed as he paused, and Fal’ran glanced at his teammates. Sazahk looked up from his poking, Bar’in’s finger tapped along his rifle barrel, Tar’s knuckles whitened around his gun. “We’re bound for their Colony Ship.”
The tablet speakers crackled into incoherence as both rooms erupted into discussion.
“We’re bound for their what?” Bar’in, as usual, reacted first, taking a step away from their hostages and toward Patrick.
“Focus,” Patrick ordered, pointing at the Insects huddled together before Tar and Bar’in’s guns. Most of them hadn’t reacted to Patrick’s words, still quivering, and brushing their antennae over each other, but the woman Bar’in said had translated vibrated with tension.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m focused, but we’re going to their what?” Bar’in turned his body toward the Insects, but his wild eyes darted to Patrick.
“They have a Colony Ship? An entire Colony Ship?” Sazahk lurched forward, light green rushing up over his throat and cheeks. “Nearby?”
“Yeah, and we’re headed for it.” Bar’in’s hand trembled on his gun. When his wild yellow eyes fell on Fal’ran, Fal’ran moved across the camera’s field of view to put a hand on his quivering rifle.
A burst of darker green spread over Sazahk’s nose. “That’s fantastic.”
“No,” Bar’in snarled. “It’s terrible!”
“It’s both.” Fal’ran took the gun out of Bar’in’s hand and stepped into his position, guarding the hostages. Bar’in fell back with a scent of gratitude. Fal’ran raised an eyebrow at Patrick. “Right?”
“That’s right.” Patrick nodded with a confident motion and a neutral scent, but his face paled.
“Smith!” Yal’rest’s voice crackled out of the tablet. “You’re sure about this?”
Patrick turned to his superiors. “Completely, sir.”
The Insect woman in the middle of the cluster glanced at the console beside Sazahk and Fal’ran growled low in his chest. She shot him a look and shrank back, but Fal’ran shifted closer to the console anyway, to a place where he blocked her access, monitored the group of Insects, and saw Patrick and the screen, too.
“A whole fucking colony…” Yal’rest’s voice trailed off.
Patrick stayed strong and calm, but his words pitched the war rooms into chaos again. “And plans for a Nest somewhere, too.”
Fal’ran resisted the urge to gape at Patrick and forced his focus to stay on the chittering Insects. A what?
“A what?” Bar’in spoke for him.
“A Nest?” Sazahk’s voice spiked into his curious tone. “Where? Another ship? A planet? Qesha?”
“Enough.” The qesh who had handed over the tablet with the translator serial numbers stood and waved the rest of his room to silence. Fal’ran grasped through his mind for the name without letting his focus drift from the Insects at the end of his gun. Emissary Serihk. “Patrick Smith, tell us everything you know.”
“Our scientist will send the information on the organic structures we encountered in Qesha’s Dead Zone as soon as this call is complete, but the salient points are these.” Patrick clasped his hands behind his back and stood straight. “One, my squad is currently aboard an Insect vessel bound for something that the Insects present have referred to as a Colony Ship.” Patrick raised his voice over the buzz of conversation the term re-triggered. “And two, they intend to establish on a planet something they have referred to as a Nest.”
“So, they are invading!”
