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It wasn’t made to keep out an entity phased partially from another dimension, however.
The Alneusian spoke their native language, and the earpieces worn by their fellow inspectors’ translated. They answered in their own speech. What they said would have been typical of any debriefing after an inspection of Bi’is, nothing anyone who stepped into the room would have been surprised to hear. The yeomen who occasionally entered to ensure everyone had what they needed for their meeting found little amiss.
One or two did a doubletake when they glimpsed something odd at the periphery of their view. A Bezcux yeoman swung around on its six legs to appraise with swaying stalk eyes the Plasian inspector, certain it had spotted a dark, bulbous shape hanging on the Plasian’s neck and back. A young orange-furred Joshadan chirped surprise at the inspector from Cimyo, then hunched and uttered an apologetic trill when she was given a questioning glance.
Tricks of the light, the Bezcux and Joshadan both thought in the bare seconds before they too were mounted and their minds seized.
Beneath the drone of the debriefing, a second conversation took place, unheard by ears or translators. It was as intense as the meeting’s official transcript was dull.
Two hundred species, but only one appears to possess the ability to invade our realm.
It is a member of this body, however. It will tell how to reach what is ours.
It operates in secret. It does not trust the body.
Separation kills. The All will prevail.
If they remain separate.
What does the All tell us? It is good to listen.
Listen to the All.
They listened. The answer came quickly.
Extermination. The Kalquorians first, then the rest to confirm they will not invade what is ours.
Yes.
Death to the Kalquorians.
Death to those who are not All. It is good.
* * * *
Earth II
Either Clan Rihep were phenomenally polite guests, or Stacy’s spaghetti and meatballs was that damned good. What she’d intended to freeze and eat on occasion over the next couple of months was soon gone on a tide of compliments.
“I’m never leaving.” Etnil licked his fork, though it gleamed. There was no sign of any sauce left. “I’ll hide in a closet, and you can feed me every night. Wait, do you make pizza?”
She chuckled. Kuran had spoken of his Imdiko’s fascination with Earther food and his many attempts to adapt it to his native tastes. “I do make pizza, but the most exotic ingredients you’ll find on mine will be sausage, pepperoni, and mushrooms.”
“Do I get to choose my own closet, or do you have a particular one I can move into?”
Rihep smiled and shook his head while watching her. “I promise, he’s harmless. Mostly.” He glanced at Kuran, and a shadow passed over his face.
Kuran had been uncharacteristically quiet. Even Etnil, for all his joking, had watched his clanmate, flashes of concern darting over his mischievous countenance.
“Can I ask what’s going on?” Stacy asked.
“Kuran got some upsetting news today,” Rihep said. “But I think it’s classified information?”
“It is, but she knows what’s going on,” Kuran said. “The committee cleared her because she’s open to our assistance when it comes to planetary protection.”
“Clearance is offered on a case-by-case basis,” Stacy added. “Planetary protection? Are we discussing the spyship squadron? Is there a problem?”
“Only personal.” Kuran scowled at his plate and its remnants of sauce. “The defensive cordon is fine. I’m having issues because of who’ll be in charge of it.”
