Page 86 of Stripped By the Alien

I push myself upright and continue crawling. The tunnels become narrower and warmer the deeper we go. Gradually the color of the tissue changes from pink to ivory. The surfaces feel older somehow, denser and less active.

Even Krix’vorr grows quieter. The passages stop feeling like maintenance routes and begin feeling like something sacred.

Eventually the tunnel widens. I squeeze through one final opening and immediately stop moving.

The chamber beyond is enormous. White structures fill it from floor to ceiling. At first I think they're trees. Then I think of coral reefs. A moment later they remind me of gigantic nerves branching through a living brain. None of those comparisons fully captures what I'm seeing.

Countless formations rise from the floor and disappear into darkness overhead. Some are as thin as fingers. Others are thick enough to contain buildings. Pale strands connect them in vast networks that spread throughout the chamber.

The entire hall glows with a faint internal light.

“Oh,” is all I can say.

Krix’vorr emerges beside me and studies the chamber. “This must be it. Memory storage.”

For several moments neither of us moves. The scale is difficult to process. Every direction reveals another forest of branching white structures disappearing into the distance.

Then Lucius squeezes through the opening behind us. “May I, sir? Just step a little further forwards… yes, that’s it. Thank you.” The drone hovers into the chamber and begins rotating slowly. His sensor cluster turns once, then again. The movement becomes faster as he scans the space. “Oh.”

“That’s what I said,” I comment, satisfied to hear the drone lost for words.

“This is…” Lucius begins, then trails off.

“What is it?” I ask, worried. I've never heard that tone from him before.

Lucius drifts farther into the chamber. The glowing formations stretch away beyond even his sensors. “I was wrong.”

Krix’vorr folds his arms. “You better not have been wrong about the Beast’s memories, machine. There’s a lot riding on this.”

“Oh, I’m not wrong in that sense. It’s just that this is vastly larger than I expected.”

“How large?” I ask.

Lucius doesn't answer immediately. For several seconds he simply hovers among the glowing structures. When he finally speaks, his voice sounds almost distracted. “Imagine every conversation the Beast has ever heard. Every star she has ever seen. Every port she has visited. Every species she has smelled. Every route she has traveled. Every battle. Everything she has seen.” He pauses and rotates toward one of the towering formations. “Now imagine all of it stored without organization.”

I look around again. The size of the chamber somehow feels even greater now. “That sounds messy.”

“Doesn’t it, though?” Lucius rises toward a structure thicker than a house. Branches spread outward from it in every direction. “The Beast never built an archive.” His lens focuses on the glowing coral-like growth. “She gathered memories.” For the first time since he was assigned to me, I hear genuine excitement in his voice. “And we're looking at centuries of them. Or more.”

We leave him there and make our way back out. This time the Beast doesn’t try to trap us, and when Krix’vorr lifts me down from a hole in the ceiling, we’re standing in a normal corridor.

Immediately two crewmembers come running, then throw themselves at Krix’vorr’s feet. “Chief Harrower! The Queen commands your presence in her chamber!”

25

- Krix'vorr -

This time the Nest is quieter. Few servants are milling around as we hurry through the corridors, and no courtiers are trying to harass us. The guards step back the moment they see us, and then we’re back in the Queen’s chamber.

The smell is just as full of decay as last time.

But there are fewer present. Only the Royal Mate Morr’ak, the Inquisitor and two Chief Harrowers, both old favorites of the Queen.

“Chief Harrower Krix’vorr,” the Royal Mate begins without ceremony while we’re still walking towards the throne, “Her Majesty wants to know the answers to these questions. Where is Earth? What do its defenses look like? What are their real resources? How many of these aliens are there? These are questions a Chief Harrower should have ready when his Queen allows him to appear before her. All we get from you are your alien’s strange pleas for tribute and your own vague statements!” His voice echoes in the chamber.

I choose to ignore him. It’s a dangerous tactic, but it sometimes amuses the Queen. “Greetings, Your Majesty. How may I obey?” I go down on one knee.

Nora does the same. I have briefly told her how to behave around the Queen in a way that may reduce her risk. I have also told her to say as little as possible.