Page 70 of Stripped By the Alien

Nora looks down her body. “Is this all you have for me to wear?”

I reach out and adjust the tape that covers her. “For now. It’s armor and covering.” I take her hand. “We must go.”

I walk her through the Beast to the big hole that’s the main airlock. Of course, now there’s air on both sides.

The exit irises open, and the smell of the Nest washes over us. It smells like home, nutrients, the acrid scent of an almost ripe Swarm. And danger. But that’s nothing new.

I step out of the Beast and Nora follows.

She takes three steps before stopping. Her hand remains in mine, but her attention leaves me entirely. I've seen that reaction before. Young warriors have it the first time they enter the Nest. Newly promoted Harrowers sometimes have it if they’ve been away for a while. Servants from conquered species have it very strongly.

The Nest overwhelms the senses. Vast organic pillars rise from the floor and disappear into darkness so far above that the ceiling cannot be seen. Rivers of glowing nutrient fluid travel through translucent vessels thicker than the Beast. Every surface lives. Every wall breathes. Deep pulses move through the structure beneath our feet, each one reminding every creature present that the Nest is a living thing.

Nora slowly turns in place. Her eyes widen as she takes it all in. Thousands of Brood-mates move through the immense passage surrounding us. Workers drag nutrient bundles larger than ground vehicles. Servants scuttle across walls and ceilings. Young Harvesters march in organized groups toward distant chambers. To me, it's ordinary. To Nora, it clearly isn't.

I find myself watching her instead of the Nest. She goes completely still just when I expect it.

I follow her eyes upward, though I already know what she's seeing.

Millions of pupae hang from the unseen heights above us. They sway gently in warm air currents moving through the Nest. Some are the size of workers. Others are much larger, like me. The translucent sacs reveal vague outlines of bodies waiting inside, suspended in nutrient fluid while they prepare for emergence.

The sight has always filled me with pride. Today I find myself wondering what it looks like to someone born elsewhere.

Nora keeps staring upward for several moments before speaking. "Those are all… your kind?"

"They are all Brood-mates, all Thyrr. Except for the servant species."

“Thyrr is your…?”

“My species. What you seem to call 'Space Locusts'. And while we are exchanging names, it would be useful to know the name of your planet. Just the name. For credibility with the Queen.”

“Earth,” she says after a brief hesitation. “It won't help her much.” Her eyes move across the immense clusters. There are so many that entire sections of the darkness above appear covered in living fruit. I can almost see her trying to estimate their numbers before giving up. "There must be millions of these."

“Millions in each section,” I agree. “There are thousands of sections.”

For several moments Nora says nothing and she clenches my hand tighter. Her expression moves from curiosity to disbelief and then toward something closer to alarm. The Nest has always seemed magnificent to me. Watching Nora examine it, I can suddenly imagine other interpretations.

We continue deeper into the Nest. The passage broadens until it resembles a valley carved through living flesh. Traffic flows around us in every direction. Harvesters, workers, servants, and messengers move with purpose, yet the crowd parts automatically when they recognize me.

Many notice Nora. Most stare, and some stop walking entirely. They first take in her, the alienness and the shocking defenselessness that seems to be an integral part of her kind. Then they stare at our hands, and the Chief Harrower holding the hand of this obvious alien, so female it borders on the obscene.

A few servants flatten themselves on the floor in obeisance, but their eyes still follow us. I should rip them limb from limb for the imposition, but I suspect that Nora would disapprove.

Their interest is entirely understandable. Nora is unlike anything they've ever seen. She is the first representative of a civilization nobody knew existed. Of course they're staring. Even so, I find myself moving a little closer to her.

Nora notices immediately. A small smile appears at the corner of her mouth. She doesn't comment, though I can tell she's tempted.

Ultimately, it’s of no concern. Only the Queen’s opinion matters.

We round a curve in the living corridor and my mood immediately darkens.

A large figure stands ahead, surrounded by attendants and servants. His armor plates have been polished to a mirror sheen. His antennae stand high with confidence. Even from a distance, I recognize the posture.

Chief Harrower Xal'threk. Of all the courtiers in the Nest I might have encountered first, he is among the last I would've chosen.

He feigns surprise, although he’s obviously here specifically because he knew I’d pass. “Chief Harrower Krix’vorr! What an unexpected sight.” Xal’threk places a hand across his chest and inclines his head to the side, not in a bow. “The Queen has spoken of you often these past cycles. She wondered whether the burdens of command had finally become too heavy for you to answer her summons. I'm relieved to see those concerns were misplaced.”

“Xal’threk,” I growl, quickly evaluating how much it would cost me to kill him on the spot. Just a little too much, I reckon. “Isn’t there a sewer you could inspect somewhere? Surely the air here smells too good for you?”