Page 71 of Stripped By the Alien

He laughs. “Oh, Krix’vorr. It is you! I've missed your conversation. You always manage to make complicated matters sound wonderfully simple! The Queen will be astonished to see you here, despite her endless invitations that she finally had to turn into a command. Your absence has inspired remarkable creativity among the Nest.” He glances toward Nora. “Some believed you were pursuing a private conquest. Others thought you had become so devoted to distant species that the Nest no longer interested you.” His antennae tilt. “I defended you, of course. Briefly. Now I regret it, because I see you’ve brought an alien, who appears not bound or restrained in any way!”

“Oh, the Queen wants to see this alien,” I counter as I walk on. “Didn’t you know? Can you really be that much out of the loop?”

“But…” Xal’threk says, momentarily taken aback. “Of course I knew. Yes, the Nest has talked about nothing else for a while but that strange alien that Krix’vorr insists on defiling the Nest with.” He strolls after us, leaving his entourage to catch up.

“We shall see who defiles what, Xal’threk,” I state, focused on the audience with the Queen and not really having time to deal with him. “But if you enter the Royal Chamber along with us, it is you who defiles the Queen’s presence and I shall have no choice but to rip you in half. I hope you understand.”

Xal’threk's gaze lingers on our joined hands. “How extraordinary. I don't believe I've ever seen you escort anything personally before. The Queen will find that detail very interesting.” He slows to a stop as we approach the guards outside the Royal Chamber.

I half-turn to give him a little smile. “Oh, if only you knew why I’m here!”

That’s bound to make him wonder and worry what exactly is going on between me and the Queen. He will soon find out, of course, but I want him unsettled while my audience lasts.

The Queen’s section of the Nest has a subtly different smell than the rest, and I sense it now. It’s all different since last time - bigger, more unhatched eggs, more noise from the nutrition canals and the slow pulse of the whole Nest. This is the only part of it that’s decorated. The skeletons of conquered species hang on the walls, along with empty carapaces and shards from millions of eggs that crunch underfoot.

The opening to the Queen’s chamber is surprisingly small. But of course the Queen can never leave her chamber, so it’s not for her. Just for Harrowers and other courtiers.

The guards block the way as they stare at Nora’s and my joined hands.

“She needs to be led,” I explain. “Now open. Keeping a Chief Harrower from his Queen is a crime that warrants immediate execution.” I feel confident in saying it, because just about anything warrants execution in the Nest.

The guards stand back and raise their weapons, and the opening to the Queen’s Royal Chamber opens.

I walk straight in with Nora in tow.

The chamber beyond is enormous. Passing through the relatively small entrance and into this vast space still affects me. The ceiling disappears into darkness far above. Thick nutrient canals cross the chamber like glowing rivers suspended in the air. The pulse of the Nest feels stronger here than anywhere else, moving through the walls and floor in slow, powerful waves that seem to echo through my own body.

Then the smell reaches me. I've known this scent my entire life. Every audience with the Queen carried it. Every promotion, every triumph, every ceremony of consequence unfolded beneath it. It should feel comforting. Instead, something about it catches my attention for the first time.

There's a sourness hidden beneath the familiar odors of nutrient fluid, pheromones, and living flesh. It reminds me of old meat left too long in stagnant water. The smell has always been here. I know that with absolute certainty. Once I loved it. Today I don’t.

My eyes rise toward the central platform. The Queen rests there.

When I was younger, she seemed magnificent. Larger than life. The living embodiment of the Brood itself. Every story I'd ever heard about power and conquest found its source in her presence.

Today I see something different. Her body coils across the platform in immense loops of swollen flesh. Segments thicker than buildings disappear beneath one another before emerging farther along the dais.

Servants move constantly around her, cleaning armor plates, tending nutrient tubes, carrying away waste, and adjusting feeding vessels attached to the lower portions of her body. The activity never stops, and neither do the movement of her lower segments.

I know that the eggs drop into the floor below, where they are carried away by servants. For the first time I’m grateful I don’t have to see it.

Age marks every part of Queen Szum-zic. Her armor plates are discolored and uneven. Cracks run through them despite the servants' efforts. Some have been repaired so many times that they resemble patchwork more than natural armor. Pale fungal growth clings stubbornly to the edges of old wounds. One eye appears larger than the other. Even her antennae seem burdened by their own weight.

The royal crest behind her head still commands attention, yet it droops in places where it once stood rigid and proud.

For the first time in my life, I understand that the Queen is ugly. The thought disturbs me enough that I immediately push it away. The Queen is the Queen! Beauty has nothing to do with it. She is the source of authority. She is the heart of the Brood. Indeed, without her, there is no Brood, no meaning, no life.

Yet another thought follows immediately behind the first: Nora stands beside me.

The comparison can’t be avoided, though I try. The Queen is ancient, swollen, and rooted permanently to her platform. Nora moves quickly, lightly and with ease. Her body carries none of the weight of centuries. She looks alive in a way that makes the rest of the chamber seem dimmer around her.

I find myself wishing I'd left her behind, but it’s too late. Everyone has already seen her.

Several pairs of eyes fix on Nora immediately. Chief Harrowers. Senior servants. Officials whose names carry influence throughout the Brood.

The sight of an Inquisitor rattles me a bit, not just because he must be as young as me, but also because there’s been no Inquisitors at the Nest for many longcycles. What does the Queen fear?

At the base of the platform stands Royal Mate Morr'ak.