A few hours later, as the senior Acolyte officers – Col. Uɉa, Maj. Wilson, and Senior Crewmate Zery – met with the senior officers of the Bass, the junior Acolyte officers unpacked their gear and got settled in their new quarters.

“It is not something to whip the cat about. I just think they could give us each our own quarters.”

“Is that a French idiom? Or did I not learn enough English?” Aram Akreyi asked, placing his last pair of slacks in the dresser.

“French. English metaphors are boring.”

“Good, just checking. And you have the same number of bars as I do, Hercule, and you’re second on the 22.”

“Just because you’re on the Nine….”

“…and third, under a five-bar and a three-bar. Given that, I’m happy we’re just doubling.”

“Ah, but we are one-quarter the number who will be here eventually! Each of us could have a suite of our own,” Hercule grumbled, as the room’s doorbell chimed.

Aram flipped a switch, and the door slid open. “We are getting a card game together, if anyone’s interested,” said Fatou Bâ.

“That depends if Odsetseg is going to make us play khuzur,” Hercule said.

“I know how you love it, Hercule!” Odsetseg shouted from the common room.

Fatou chuckled. “We’re playing poker,” she said.

“I’m in,” Aram said. “Who else?”

“Stopri’s coming over.”

“Of course Stopri’s coming over,” Hercule laughed. “Odsetseg, when are you moving to Avalon?”

“Who says I won’t get Amon to move with me to Ulaanbaatar?” Odsetseg asked.

“You,” Aram said. “Unless you’ve changed your mind in the last six hours.”

Odsetseg laughed. “I have not. It sounds like Avalon is much prettier.”

The doorbell for their common room sounded; Odsetseg practically bounded up to answer.

“So Hercule, you’ve tried your luck with every woman in the wing, and I was the only one foolish enough to fall for your act,” Fatou said, with a bit of a grin. “I worry about you. What are you going to do while you’re here, other than wait?”

“I’m going to find a nice Titan girl, get lost in her décolletage for a week,” Hercule said.

“Overrated,” Amon Stopri said in a thick Avalonian accent. “Not saying the experience was not interesting…..”

“You dated a Titan?” Odsetseg said. “How did I not know this?”

“Well…dated is a strong word. We hooked up a few times.”

“Anyone we’ve heard of? Sen. Tarsuss? Lady Carey?”

“No, no,” Stopri laughed. “She was an assistant to Navarchos Daru. Helping with the transition. Very pretty, though not as pretty as Odsa.”

“Friend, you’ve gone up in my estimation,” Hercule said. “You’ll have to tell me about it.”

“Not now, though,” Fatou said.

“Definitely not,” Odsetseg said.

“Unless you’ve got a story about hooking up with a Titan man,” Fatou said. “I’m guessing, compared to some people in the room….”

“Ah, knives are flying low!” Hercule laughed. “I could be indelicate, my little goat, but I am a gentleman.”

“Aram is a gentleman,” Fatou said. “You are just a chaud lapin, oui?”

Hercule shook his head. He liked Fatou quite a bit. Oh, she gave him a hard time, but he knew that if she got bored…well, there was a pun in English there, but he was too proud to make it. “Oui,” was all he said. “Shall I get the deck, then?”

* * *

While a group of junior officers cut the cards, the three seniormost Acolyte officers were sitting around the table in the briefing room of the Aerti Bass, getting their orders.

To be precise, they were sitting around a table in Briefing Room 1A, which was just off of Auxiliary Bridge 1A, both of which were scaled precisely for humans. They were holoprojected into Briefing Room 1, and the officers in Briefing Room 1 were being projected into their room.

They were soft light projections right now, though hard light was possible if the watch officer deemed it necessary. In principle, the Aerti Bass could be run completely from either bridge, or from the secondary or tertiary auxiliary bridges. In practice, it was run off the main bridge, with a few human officers completing their rotations on the bridge scaled for them.

“We want to make sure that things run seamlessly,” Lauryna Gwenn was saying. “But I want to assure you, you’re welcome throughout the ship, just as I’m sure you’d welcome me aboard one of yours…assuming I’d fit, of course.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Ahek Uɉa said. “I hope you do not find my concern to be rude.”

“Of course not,” Xianara Riases said. “I’d ask the same questions if I was in your seat. And….”

“To be direct, Colonel Uɉa, the issue is not the humans. It is the Titans.”

Ahek turned to look at the Dunnermac ops officer. “Senior Crewmate Polia, I’m not certain I follow.”

“Titan bigotry, Colonel Uɉa. Humans are just integrating into the fleet. Captain Gwenn believes this will help them to be accepted more quickly. I concur.”

“I want to assure you,” Lauryna said, “that discrimination against humans, or any member of this crew, of any species, will not be tolerated,” Lauryna said. “And if you or your crewmates experience any, I want to know, because I will collapse on the perpetrators like a gorram hypernova. That said…I think it’s best if we take some proactive steps as well.”

Emidus Zery, the lone Avalonian in the room, smiled. “I suspected as much. Don’t worry, ma’am, we’ll bring any issues to the attention of Captain Ibanez or Senior Crewmate Polia, but we’ll try to deal with them first by being so gorram good at what we do that nobody’s got any room to complain.”

“My old friend Yamma Neutha used to tell humans in the Empire to be twice as good as everyone else – and we just might be viewed as equal. I expect that out of you, but then, I just expect it because you’re under my command,” Izzy said. “As for the crew, about half of them served on the Gyfjon, if they had any problem taking orders from humans, they’ve had plenty of time to get over it.”

“Not to mention that a whole bunch of them are alive thanks to humans. Including all four of you sitting around this table,” Lauryna said. “None of us have forgotten that, and none of us will.”

“We all stood together,” Ahek said.

“That we did,” Lauryna said, hitting a button. “Now, back to the task at hand.”

Uɉa looked over the map that had reappeared on the table. “We should not send the entire wing in during the initial drop. We are best served by stealth, I think.”

“I concur,” Polia said. “We do not want to kill more than we must.”

“Speak for yourself,” Riases said.

“I won’t mourn any dead bugs, but Senior Crewmate Polia is right,” Lauryna said. “Ideally, they won’t know anyone was even on the planet until the Ambassador is lifting off.”

Uɉa nodded. “Acolyte Nine will lead the incursion. Acolytes Six and Twenty-Two will accompany us. Lauren, I want Acolytes Twelve, Twenty-Four, and Twenty-Six flying CAP with the Flypaper, awaiting further instructions.”

“This isn’t an easy first run,” Izzy said.

“We don’t want easy,” Uɉa said. “We want to matter. This matters.”

Lauryna nodded. “My attitude as well, Colonel.”

“You think the drop ship will be able to make it through their defenses?” Asked Lauren Wilson.

Lauryna nodded. “I’m not saying it will be easy. But we feel certain we can fool them long enough to make the pick-up.”

“And if not,” Ahek said, “well…that’s why our ships have weapons.”

“Exactly, Colonel,” Lauryna said. “We’re going to be in position in 84 hours, with a goal of launching in 90. You’ll be ready?”

“We will,” Ahek said. “We most certainly will.”

* * *

Junior Crewmate Third Class Glyta Idisoko waited outside her captain’s ready room, her stomach churning.

She was glad to be on the Aerti Bass. It was a heck of a post to get straight out of the Academy. Still…there were a couple things that made her nervous. Well, one thing. One person, really.

That person was the person she waited to see.

The door opened. “Come in, Ms. Idisoko,” Lauryna said.

Glyta walked in, trying to use every ounce of what she’d learned in her life to show no fear. She almost succeeded.

The captain was a short woman, far from imposing. But she was Lauryna Gwenn. The woman who’d won at Tkakh, won the Imperial Clade for it. Who’d been on hand for the unofficial first contact with the K’Gapti, and the official first contact with Earth. Who’d sacrificed her ship at the Battle of Tau Ceti. Gwenn was almost legendary, one of the most respected captains in the fleet.

That would be enough to make most any junior officer nervous, but Gwenn was also a very highly skilled linguist, one who kept her skill set sharp. That meant that she had a tendency to push her linguists very hard, and not allow them to drift, as far too many captains did.

And Glyta was a linguist.

“Glyta Idisoko, Junior Crewmate Third Class, reporting as ordered, ma’am.”

“Have a seat,” the captain said, looking at her pad. Glyta took the chair across the table from her commanding officer, and waited patiently.

“I have not had the chance,” Gwenn said, not looking up, “to meet with you since you’ve arrived. Mr. Lerneth reported that you’ve settled in nicely.”

“Aye, ma’am, Crewmate Lerneth has been helpful.”

Gwenn pursed her lips, slightly. Captain Gwenn would not say what she was thinking – that Lerneth was already on her last nerve, and that he had about one chance left to convince her of his competence. Instead, she said, “Good, good. Has he worked with you on translating the messages recovered from EM0022?”

“He gave them to me to translate, ma’am. Uh….”

Glyta didn’t say what she was thinking – that Junior Crewmate Lerneth had basically dumped the files on her, muttering something about cross-training for communications. She didn’t want to sell out her direct superior. Instead, she said, after a pause, “I assume he wanted to see how I would do without assistance.”

Lauryna’s lip twitched, slightly. “Yes, that sounds like Mr. Lerneth. There’s a fair number to go through, how long until they’re complete?”

“They’re complete, ma’am. I had transmitted them to Crewmate Lerneth for checking,” Glyta said.

At that, Lauryna put down her pad, and finally looked up. “You only arrived three days ago.”

“Aye, ma’am…but Warrior was my specialty in the Academy. And this was relatively straightforward.”

Lauryna nodded. “Even so. Very few linguists would have been able to get through that workload.”

Glyta took a breath in. “Ma’am…I do not want to sound arrogant, but…well, like I said, this was my specialty. I don’t have a handle on Drazari or Mandarin yet, and I’m just passable with English, but the Insectoid languages…I feel very comfortable with them.”

“It isn’t bragging if you can back it up, Ms. Idisoko. And I know you can,” Lauryna said. “I was one of the officers who graded your thesis. As soon as I’d filed my grade, I filed a request to have you posted on my ship.”

Glyta’s eyes went wide at that. “Ma’am…I’m honored. I…I was just glad that my thesis made sense.”

“For most linguists, it wouldn’t have. Not because it was poorly-constructed, but because it was far beyond thesis-level work. There’s a reason they sought out my input, Ms. Idisoko. I don’t want to sound arrogant, but I’m pretty good with Insectoid languages myself.”

“Ma’am, I’ve read most of your work, you’re better than good. Your paper on noun conjugation in Mantid was…uh…that is to say, ma’am, I have no doubt.”

Lauryna actually cracked a smile at that. “Nice job, Ms. Idisoko. You just barely avoided the appearance of brown-nosing. And if it makes you feel better, I enjoy talking shop, and I’m glad my paper helped.”

Lauryna leaned back. “Ms. Idisoko, I believe that you can be an asset to this ship. My only question is whether you actually want to be.”

“Ma’am?”

“I received a communication from the Dodecahedron about you. It seems there’s been a lot of pressure on them to transfer you to Tuaut, where you can work in analytics. It seems that Senator Idisoko has been very insistent. Now, there’s a war on. I could keep you here pretty much indefinitely, stop-loss rules are in effect. But I don’t want anyone on my ship who isn’t fully committed.”

Glyta groaned. She leaned back, and rubbed her eyes. “Ma’am…I apologize for my mother. She has been…well…overprotective.”

“So you are happy on the Bass?”

“I’m more than happy, ma’am. My mom doesn’t want me to be in danger. She told me, when I was assigned here, that she’d try to get me out of it. I told her not to…but then, she tends to have her own ideas about what she wants to do.”

“You are the heir to the House of Idisoko,” Lauryna said.

“Prince Antero was heir to the throne, ma’am, and I understand he had the opportunity to decline to go down to Tau Ceti.”

“More than that,” Lauryna said. “He insisted he go, over Navarchos Bass’s objections. One of my final logs from the Gyfjon noted that.”

“That’s…that’s who I want to be. Not that I can live up the prince, but…I want to serve,” Glyta said. “Ma’am, I didn’t have to go to the Academy. But I wanted to go. I don’t want to be just an heiress. I want to give back to the Empire. And I know that when I put on this uniform, I’m not the future Lady Idisoko. I’m a JC3C, and honestly…it’s just a brass pip, but I earned that, ma’am, and I’m more proud of it than whatever my last name happens to be. And ma’am, if you want me to tell my mother to jump out an airlock, I will. I probably will even if you don’t want me to.”

Lauryna nodded. “I’m convinced,” she said. “You’re not the first officer to have a parent worried, and won’t be the last. But your head’s on straight. Do remind me sometime to tell you about the first time I met Prince Antero. He and I were both junior officers, we did some work on a Drazari communication…but not now. One last question: are you comfortable taking commands from human officers?”

“Of course, ma’am,” Glyta said. “If they’re my superior officer, I’ll salute, doesn’t matter their species.”

“Good answer. All right. Ms. Idisoko, I have an assignment for you. Tell me,” Lauryna said, “have you ever been aboard an Insectoid vessel?”

* * *

“Ma’am, that’s gonna leave the strike team open,” I Young-ja said.

“I understand, Ms. I,” Ahek replied. “But engaging the FCF drive is like lighting a fire. It will not take long for the Insectoids to locate us. Our goal is stealth. We go in gravitics only; we will engage FCF only if they’ve identified us.”

“It will take a few minutes to bring it online, ma’am.”

“Ms. Bâ, I’m quite certain I know these ships’ capabilities better than you.”

Fatou looked down. “Yes, ma’am, sorry, ma’am.”

“We know the dangers in this course of action,” Crewmate Zery said. “But the reward is worth the risk. The information that we could recover could prove critical if we want to win this war, and I do believe everyone in this room wants to win this war, yes?”

“Yes, sir!” the group responded.

“Ma’am,” Hercule said, looking at his gool, “I just have one question – this order of battle has the dropship listed as the ISS Flypaper, ship type left blank. Is that a place-filler?”

“No,” Uɉa said, “and very good question, Mr. Desroches. Captain?”

“Thank you, Colonel,” Izzy said, walking to the front of the briefing room. “First off, the Flypaper is the ship’s true name. In English, I might add. It is a non-standard vessel. In Imperial military parlance, it’s a 908-Ishaytan transport.”

“Ishaytan…it’s an Insectoid vessel?” Saga Elsasdottir asked.

“That’s correct, Ms. Saga,” Izzy said, bringing up a holographic image of the ship. “We recovered a couple 908Ψs off of the remains of the Hive Ship at Tau Ceti. Both were damaged, but fortunately, both had damage to different parts. We pieced them into one ship, and refit the interior for Imperial operation.”

“So we’re planning to sneak in using this, hope that they think it’s just a transport and leave it alone?”

“Correct, Major Ranatunga,” Izzy said. “It should be less conspicuous than a Magic dropship.”

“Smart. Very smart.”

“I’m glad you approve, Ms. al-Zayedeen. They’re readying the ship now; I want you to get some sleep tonight. You are all familiar with Titan Station dayparts? Good. We’ll assemble at 12:00, Beth-Five. Colonel?”

“You heard the captain,” Ahek said. “Get some sleep. Dismissed.”

“Get some sleep,” Hercule muttered. “Tomorrow you’re getting ready to invade Hive Prime, so sleep tight!”

“Mr. Desroches?” Izzy said, an inscrutable expression fixed on her face.

“Just…a big day tomorrow, ma’am,” Hercule said.

“Indeed it is, Mr. Desroches. They’re all big, as a matter of fact. So get some rack time, because you don’t know when it’s gonna come around again, right?”

Hercule blushed. “Yes, ma’am.”

Izzy gave him a curt nod, and he walked out of the briefing room, walking off the injury to his dignity.

* * *

Glyta’s head was spinning.

The ISS Flypaper was a bit cramped in the cockpit, but then, it would almost have to be – it hadn’t been designed for Titans, after all. Still, that cramped cockpit contained three standard Imperial control units, set to pilot, comms, and weapons.

Turn around, though, and the rough, almost-biological construction of the shuttle caused a shiver to run down her spine.

No species was more alien to the Empire than the Insectoids. Glyta Idisoko understood them very well, despite her limited field experience. You could learn a lot about a species from their language, after all. And what she understood of them terrified her, because she had learned enough about them to know that she could learn everything there was to know about them, and never understand them, not really.

And that was terrifying. The Dunnermac, the Avartle, the Drazari, the Humans – all were species that had motivations that she could figure out. Some were easier than others, but all desires that were similar at their base. The Insectoids…they coveted everything. That was clear. But beyond that….

“Ms. Idisoko? Are you with us?”

“Sorry, ma’am. Yes, secondary comms relays are green.”

“Something on your mind?” Shagda Olthympo grumbled.

“No, ma’am, sorry, ma’am,” Glyta said, with a grimace.

“Get your frakking head in the game, Ms. Ididsoko,” Olthympo said. “We’re going into combat, don’t have time to hold your hand. You frak up on this mission, people die. Maybe millions of people, if things go bad enough. You will do your gorram duty, without me having to poke at you to do it, or you will leave this cockpit and report to the Captain that you are not competent to be an Imperial officer. Do you understand?”

“Aye, aye,” Glyta said.

“I’m going to check the guns,” Olthympo said, letting her gaze studiously avoid the junior linguist. “Utti, keep going through the checklist.”

“Aye, ma’am,” Utti Larasin said, as the ship’s chief of security headed out of the cockpit.

Larasin waited for Olthympo to get out of hearing range, before saying, “I was like you my first combat mission, Ms. Idisoko, and I’d bet that Crewmate Olthympo was too. Don’t get too down.”

“She’s right, sir, need to keep focused.”

“Yeah, you do,” Larasin said. “But…do you know about Crewmate Olthympo?”

“Know she was at Tau Ceti, sir. Like you.”

Larasin poked his display. “Eh, I was just a gunner on the Gyfjon. Not saying it was fun…it was horrible. But…Crewmate Olthympo was on the Troji.”

“Gods,” Glyta said. “How…..”

“She led their drop team. Got wounded on the planet. But she survived. Her ship didn’t. Her boyfriend…he was on the Troji.”

Glyta was silent. There didn’t seem to be anything to say, really.

“Crewmate Olthympo and I served on the Arutelae back in the late teens,” Larasin said. “She’s a fun, friendly, good officer. She’s not in a good place right now, though. But….”

“Sir,” Glyta said, “like I said…I need to stay focused. Crewmate Olthympo…she has every right to chew me out for it.”

Utti nodded. “That she does. You have interlock between comms and translation matrix seven?”

Before Glyta had a chance to answer, she heard a soft whir, one that sounded a bit like a mobile security droid, followed by a curt, “Permission to come aboard.”

“Granted,” Larasin said. “Ma’am, welcome aboard.”

“Thank you, Crewmate…Larasin, is it?”

“Yes, ma’am, this is Crewmate Idisoko.”

Glyta looked at the woman; it took her a moment to figure out who she was looking at, exactly. It was the uniform that threw her – not a standard Imperial uniform, but just close enough to cause her to briefly try to go through her automatic check of color, specialty, and rank. But the rank insignia was in the wrong place, and coloring was non-standard. It took her just a beat to recognize that the uniform was not Imperial, but Terran, and another beat to recognize what that meant.

“You’re a hu…I mean, yes, ma’am,” Glyta said, wincing yet again. However, unlike Olthympo, this senior officer took her momentary bobble with a chuckle.

“Yes, I am human,” Ahek Uɉa said. “Crewmate Zery and I decided to use the holograms, rather than the hamster balls.”

A woman following the two humans onto the ship disagreed. “Technically, they’re a secondary transport….”

“They’re hamster balls, Crewmate Olthympo,” Zery said, “but to be fair, we did this more because we didn’t want you to have to waste your time carrying us from place to place.”

“And because being carried from place to place lacks a certain something,” Ahek added.

“As you wish, Colonel,” Larasin said. “That’s right, yes? Colonel?”

“Yes, sir,” Glyta said. “I mean….”

“It is,” Ahek said. “You’re the linguist?”

“Aye, ma’am.”

“Maybe,” Olthympo said. “She seems to be frakking up left and right today.”

Ahek gave Glyta a reassuring smile. “We have all had days like that. Best to get it done before tomorrow, yes?”

Glyta blushed. “Yes, ma’am. I will.”

“I’m sure you will,” Uɉa said. “My understanding of your protocols is that you will also be handling communication during the mission, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Glyta said.

“Very good. Mr. Desrochers will be contacting you in about ten hours to check communication interlock. Of course, he has been fucking up left and right today, too, but fortunately, he’s sleeping now; the nice thing about being human is that you get to tomorrow a bit faster.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll…see if I can get this worked out of my system by your tomorrow, not mine,” Glyta said.

“I’m sure you will. Now, Crewmate, we have the deck ready?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Olthympo said. “I know, it looks cramped with you at our scale….”

“It should work well,” Ahek said, looking to the ground. “Strange, really. It is when I use the holograms that I realize how small we are.”

Olthympo looked at the ground, too. “The Jacks saved my behind at Tau Ceti, ma’am. You folks are plenty big in my eyes.”