Page 87 of Stripped By the Alien

The Queen moves her head, and a servant hurries to steady it with a cushion. “Krix’vorr,” the monarch creaks. “Had any thunderstorms recently?”

“Only small ones, Your Majesty,” I reply, since she clearly knows and it makes no sense to deflect the question. “I hope they didn’t disturb the peace of the Nest.”

“The peace of my Nest will be assured when we can finally launch our Harvest,” she says. “And while your alien is entertaining, she has a plump look to her. We find it unlikely that her planet has been destroyed in a war. She doesn’t look war-like in the least, and her species plainly lives calmly in surroundings rich in nutrition.”

“She may not look war-like, Your Majesty,” I reply, “but in my experience, that has never been a mark of aggressive species. Indeed, soft species are often slow to wage war, but then they fight harder and fiercer than others.”

"Let her answer for herself," the Queen creaks, turning her clouded eye fully on Nora. "You. Alien. Explain your roundness to me. A starving world does not grow soft females."

I feel my antennae flatten. I hadn't prepared her for this.

Nora doesn't look at me. "The scouts were fed everything the stations had left, Your Majesty," she says, and her voice is steadier than I have any right to expect. "Before we launched. They knew we might not come back, and they knew we might not find help for a long time. It was thought better to send us out strong than to save the food for people who were dying anyway."

A ripple of antennae across the chamber. I can't tell if it's belief or amusement.

The Queen is silent for three long heartbeats. "A practical people," she finally says. "Wasteful, but practical." She shifts her bulk, and the cushions are hurried into place again. “Be that as it may, I can’t have the state of that planet remain uncertain. The Harvest is nearing, and soon I will unleash my Swarm. It needs a target.”

Wither, I swear internally. The Queen is obviously about to tell me to go to Earth and find if it is, in fact, ruined. And I have to obey. That will mean the certain destruction of Nora’s homeworld.

“Your Majesty, a mission to Earth now, to a planet which I believe to be ruined and worthless, will take me out of the search for a real target. It means that your best Chief Harrower is rendered ineffective at this most crucial time. It dramatically lowers the probability of finding a target worthy of Your Majesty’s Swarm.”

The two other Chief Harrowers frown, and one of them opens his mouth to speak.

“But I have another suggestion!” I state loudly just as he’s about to protest. “Instead of sending me on a fruitless mission to Earth, I beg Your Majesty to allow me to provide a much better target.”

The Queen leans back, and new cushions are deployed to prop her up. “Oh? A better one?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. The target I speak of is the Gzet homeworld.”

There’s first a stunned silence. Then the Royal Mate and the two Chief Harrowers laugh.

Beside me, Nora makes a small sound. Barely anything — a sharp breath through her nose, the kind she made when I surprised her in the training chamber. I don't dare look at her. If I look at her now, in front of the Inquisitor, everyone in this chamber will see exactly how much her opinion matters to me.

“The Gzet homeworld?” Morr’ak exclaims. “Nobody knows where it is! And most of us don’t think it even exists! It is well established that the Gzet live entirely in their spaceships and on small asteroids, scattered around the galaxy. Majesty, let me rip the wings off this court jester of a Chief Harrower! He’s plainly not suited for his job.”

The Queen smiles, too. “Have you lost your mind, Krix’vorr? Does this alien confuse you and make you forget your loyalties?”

I glance at the Inquisitor. Only he doesn’t show any sign of amusement, keeping his face neutral. It occurs to me that he may be much more dangerous than Morr’ak.

“I shall find the Gzet homeworld,” I state with certainty, fully aware that I may be signing my own death sentence. “I shall find it before the Harvest, and the Swarm shall feast on it!”

The Queen chuckles. “Oh, this is the most entertaining thing that’s happened in this chamber for many longcycles! The Gzet homeworld! Very well, Krix’vorr. You may find the Gzet homeworld for us. If you can’t, or if this is some alien nonsense you’re bringing to my Nest, you shall indeed have your wings torn off. And you shall be fed to your own Beast, thrown into the furnace in its center. And your alien shall accompany you there.”

“I understand the threat, Your Majesty,” I state, wanting to sound calm. “And it’s fair. I shall deliver on my promise.”

“But we must make sure that you do,” the Queen says. “To that end, Inquisitor Brax’tok will come along on your travels.”

The Inquisitor gives a shallow bow. “As Your Majesty commands.”

The Queen slowly turns towards him. “Inquisitor, you are to make sure that Chief Harrower Krix’vorr finds the Gzet homeworld and then reports its location and resources to me. You are to use any means necessary to hold him to his promise. If he fails, you are to kill him and his alien and take his ship.”

“I obey, Your Majesty,” the Inquisitor says smoothly.

I glance at Nora by my side. Does she understand what this means? Probably she does. And this may end with me having to kill the Inquisitor before he can kill me, because my hopes of finding the Gzet homeworld were never great.

“It’s all the more important that the search succeeds,” the Queen creaks, rolling around and sending servant creatures crawling around her, “because these endless, bickering fights and Harvests and Swarms are making me tired. I long to rest. I never used to feel that way before.”

The mood in the room changes.