Moon-Once-Barren

A Xeraphiid History

Far-Skies-Yet-Near perched by the entrance of Tall-Grass-Under-Sun. Only distinguished sisters received a name, one’s scent markers being otherwise sufficient. Gold and green, she glittered in the ambient light of the nascent dawn. Below her, many more green-gold sisters maintained the polished hallways of her home. Knowledge-Comes-Easy stepped up behind her, glinting silver where her instruments were strapped to her body. Comes-Easy raised her mandibles, antennae scenting the air.

It was not the first time they had made the pilgrimage to the yet glorious shell of Nests-Among-Stars. It had taught her kind much over the generations, though they had yet to regain the ability to settle other stars. Comes-Easy, a premier scholar across many nearby colonies, hoped she might learn more of the ways of breaking from the wide skies into the soft star-seeded darkness beyond. Far-Skies, in her many years, had grown adept at diplomacy, a skill more useful on the neutral grounds of Among-Stars than her large warrior frame. Ideally, at least. Red-Sands-Dark-Mud did not always leave their territory disputes when they left their nest.

"Do you think the rains on other worlds smell as pleasant as ours?" Comes-Easy asked, stepping out into the light. Far-Skies stepped out behind her sister. She eyed the horizon, eyes less suited to light than dimness, but the electric potential of the approaching storm itched along her antennae. She shook her head, though the action did not dispel the feeling, and clicked in agreement.

"I see no reason to doubt it," Far-Skies answered, running a delicate claw down her antennae, still to little effect. "If other worlds have rain like ours."

"I should like...I should like to see other worlds. New skies, new sands, new scents, new things to eat." Comes-Easy dipped her antennae modestly. "The images the sky-eyes send us are so fragile. I would love to put my feet into another earth."

"Start with our moons." Far-Skies licked her own antennae, which discharged the itch. "If it does rain, will they delay the launch?"

"It would delay us another moon cycle, we would have to re-calculate the trajectories, but..." Comes-Easy stopped her march as they crested the hill above Nests-Among-Stars. It would take herself and Comes-Easy several hours more to reach the ship, but it seemed the delegation from Red-Sands-Dark-Mud was coming to join them.

Their slender black workers stood in the shadow of a hulking warrior, who eyed them distrustfully over sharpened mandibles.

Far-Skies kept her jaws from meeting in a click of challenge, but only just. Comes-Easy, delicate and young, let Far-Skies place her larger body between them.

Deep-Seeds approached, tossing her dark head. The warrior watched.

"No need for that. We'll accompany you to Among-Stars, and discuss a recent change in the needs of our nest."

"A change!?" Always these changes, just because the lands of Red-Sands-Dark-Mud held the resources which would propel the ship-shell into the sky. Deep-Seeds ignored Far-Skies, and waited for Comes-Easy to respond.

"I may carry a message, but I don't make decisions."

"Of course," Deep-Seeds said lightly, "you're only the architect of this entire project, why would they consult you?"

"What are your demands?"

"A brother from your nest, and that a warrior from ours will join us on the moon."

Comes-Easy actually stamped with outrage. Far-Skies and the other warrior bristled.

"We cannot just adjust our payload on a whim! And what of training? How do you expect a know-nothing to assist us in this?"

"We know you think us fools," Deep-Seeds said cooly, "but our queen will not send me into the stars without protection. Who is to say there are not other nests out there? Nests-Among-Stars may not be the only ship to have escaped."

"There’s no nest on our moon, we have seen that much." Comes-Easy still shuffled angrily. "We cannot just change our minds on who and what we bring. We cannot launch unless the numbers agree."

"Make them agree." Deep-Seeds turned and walked back toward the others with her. "It looks to rain, anyway. I'm sure the delay will give you time to work your equations again."

***

Secret-Seeds-Deeply-Planted, Deep-Seeds to anyone who didn't need to know–which was most others, eyed her guard as their group marched on. Surely it would have been more efficient to send another researcher, if her queen did not trust her? Knowledge-Comes-Easy was right to be furious about the payload change. Deep-Seeds' queen was a fool–but not such a fool to let Deep-Seeds around unsupervised. Or perhaps that was paranoia. Justified paranoia.

Deep-Seeds marched on.

Deep-Seeds was a chemist. While Knowledge-Comes-Easy looked at the big image, the ship, the flight, the numbers, the astronomer-engineer had no idea how delicate Deep-Seeds' work was. Deep-Seeds made sure the air in the pod would be breathable. Deep-Seeds made sure the food was dense and wholesome. Deep-Seeds made sure none of the workers of the different hives would go change-sick and become territorial, charismatic matriarchs that would destroy each other in the ship or on the moon–and that was really what this was about, wasn't it. Not that the moon was habitable, Comes-Easy claimed it was too small and its air too thin, but that, with their technology, it represented a possible site for a sovereign nest. Comes-Easy could, of course, be lying. Deep-Seeds lied all the time. But Deep-Seeds' queen only saw things in terms of territory, and would sabotage the mission if she thought it a true threat to her power. Fool! Forget sabotage, just refuse fuel.

"Our queen did not request a new husband."

"Our queen said I might request what I needed.” Deep-Seeds answered her guard. “Our brothers are hardly good test subjects. She dotes on them too much."

The larger sister ground her mandibles.

"And she is right to do so," Deep-Seeds added, by way of pacifying her escort. "We will make sure you, her most loyal warrior, has a cell in the ship." And you will be the first thing I consume. "The details distract me, sometimes."

"Your air tastes nervous."

"A pity to delay our launch unduly. So many new details to account for, the freshness of the food, quantities of ingredients to be re-ordered for my lab…details best accounted for in silence, if you do not mind."

***

Far-Skies-Yet-Near fidgeted. Knowledge-Comes-Easy made her petition for a brother to their queen, who ground her mandibles in thought as a steady stream of workers relieved her of the next generation of eggs. Far-Skies noted with concern that more than usual were brought to the warrior nursery.

The matriarch of Tall-Grass-Under-Sun kept her husbands as council. It lent her great diplomatic strength, though she claimed her motivation was to pattern herself after the wise queen of Nests Among Stars. Husbands were always cared for, but, with their shorter spans, rarely were they given positions their deaths would leave irreplaceably empty. More often, they were left to their own whims. Far-Skies often fancied that her father, graceful and intelligent and near the end of his span, was much like Bright-Wings, First Father.

He glittered gold as he listened patiently to the petition. Comes-Easy's father, beside him, leaned over to make some comment.

"What remains to see our ship safely launched?" the queen asked.

"Accounting for the bulk of a warrior, what she will eat, and where she will be housed..."

The gathered council murmured at her answer. The queen sighed.

"If you can make it happen with one warrior, will you make it for two? For each nest we represent? This is an exploratory mission. There are no moon-sisters to fear, hardly any air, almost no weight, ice instead of water, even if we could turn it into a living place as did our sisters of old, does she expect mutiny?"

"Perhaps to induce one." Far-Skies said.

"If we cannot humor Red-Sands-Dark-Mud now, we could build a new, larger rocket—" Comes-Easy’s father waved his foreclaws.

"I prefer we do not fail at all, but should we fail big when we may fail small?" Another father shook his head at his queen’s words.

"Have our chemists made breakthroughs?" Far-Skies’ own father asked.

The queen raised her iridescent wings and the chamber quieted. "We will send a son to her, one who is persuasive and clever. If he cannot make their queen see some sense, he may still influence the proceedings. Far-Skies, fetch Many-Roads-Meet."

With a bow, Far-Skies left the suddenly buzzing chamber.

Many-Roads-Meet was telling stories to his brothers when Far-Skies found him. He was of a younger generation, but was a fond member of the inner court, and Far-Skies had conversed with him, once or twice. He was frequently in the nurseries, telling one crop or another of sisters and brothers alike what wonderful new things he had learned in his work in the labs. She would not gladly see him go, none of them would.

He was, however, persuasive, and a good candidate for diplomacy or to father and cultivate a generation of curious minds. Unless Red-Sands-Dark-Mud never let fathers see their children, and Far-Skies didn't put such barbarism past that colorless clan.

Many-Roads looked up, then concluded his story with a dramatic sweep of his arms and flash of his wings. The soft-shelled, freshly-emerged brothers chittered in awe and waved their own limp wings, which, while vestigial and only for display, were pretty and enthusiastically fluttered.

"Far-Skies," Many-Roads dipped.

"The queen summons you," she dipped in return.

"I see.” Many-Roads tucked his wings back neatly. “Well, lead on."

***

Deep-Seeds was ready to accept the new male when he arrived. He seemed confused, if politely so, when he was escorted not to the queen, but to the labs.

She opened her mandibles to speak, but he said, "You're the chemist who synthesized our rocket fuel."

"I am..." she clicked. "I am, yes. And you are?" A stupid question, not every hive named their males, or they called their sons Bright-Wings until it was less of a name and more of an honorific. But he had addressed her directly, knowingly, and that had tangled her feet.

He adjusted his wings and dipped.

"I am called Many-Roads-Meet, by my sisters and mother."

"And why were you given that name?"

"Because my head is full of ideas, and the corridors connect them and connect them again. But each idea is like a chamber in a nest, is it not? It appears distinct, but there is a greater nature that is not whole unless each chamber is connected to all the others, yes?"

Deep-Seeds clicked again.

"A unity—a synthesis of knowledge. Like your moon-ship." He cocked his head. "A wonderful thing. I should like to see it."

"Why did they send you?" Deep-Seeds asked. He cocked his head the other way, fluttering his antennae. The gesture seemed mirthful.

"I suspect it is because they thought I would bore your queen. She cannot cause trouble if she is asleep, no?"

Deep-Seeds was at an utter loss.

"Well," she said, trying to take the conversation back, "you aren't to see the queen for some time. I require your assistance."

"My assistance?" Deep-Seeds twitched in pleasure as Many-Roads took his turn at confusion. "I'm sure you have brothers far more experienced and sisters better suited to any task than I."

"Bright-Wings and our First Fathers slept long in that ancient ship. I can put my brothers to sleep–chemically, not by nattering. But will they work on you?"

"We eat the same food and breathe the same air. Why would I not sleep?"

"The more I test, the more I know," she evaded.

"And yet."

Too many questions.

"You will stay here and assist me until I no longer need you."

"And then I go home? Or become a husband? Or—"

"Do you always talk so much?"

"Usually."

"Well, Knows-All-Things, I'll have your mandibles glued shut if you disrupt my work by distracting me." He clicked them together. They were not so long as hers, but broader, more curved, gleaming blue as the tempered hull of their moon-ship. She thought, briefly, of the daughters he could produce. Blue gleaming on black would be a very attractive combination. Perhaps she would have a generation of sisters that glittered like he did. Fine they would look, beneath their queen’s vermillion wings. But maybe they would inherit his mind, too, and talk all day instead of doing as they were bid. "So don't talk so much." She turned away.

***

As the launch drew near, Many-Roads-Meet decided Deep-Seeds was an unappreciated genius. If she had been his sister, she would have been lauded and given a much better name. Deep-Thoughts, or Thoughts-Will-Seed-Stars, or, or...

He came close to look over her shoulder.

"I don't think I would wake up from that dose." Deep-Seeds jumped.

"I'll glue your mandibles together, Knows-All-Things.” she said, recovering to scoop a little more onto the scale.

"Is it for one of the beasts? Or a herd of them?"

"No. It is for later. Why do you bother me?"

"Because you like being bothered, sometimes. It gives you an excuse to explain your work."

“You don’t know me so well as you think. But, if you won’t stay quiet, then be useful. The hormones to prevent change? Those need to be loaded into injectors and those need to be loaded into webbed crates. Don’t mess up the dosage.”

“I wouldn’t. But that’s why you have the counter-hormones, yes?”

“The what?” Deep-Seeds stilled, and turned her head.

“The ones that induce change. Unless I misunderstood your notes, but–”

“Oh those,” Deep-Seeds fluttered her antennae, though the gesture seemed…well, in his sisters, he would have called it embarrassment. “A byproduct of distillation. No use in the heavens or on our earth, did I not dispose of it? I will do it now. Go do as I have asked, Knows-All-Things, and stop putting your antennae in someone else’s nest.” Deep-Seeds marched past him and began shifting through nets of notes, and checking the labels of various vials, as if she couldn’t quite find what she was looking for. She had certainly seemed more scattered to him, as the launch date grew closer. A mere clawspan away, Many-Roads mused, turning to his assigned job.

“Will we need two crates?”

“In case of accident, delays on the moon.”

“And that’s why we have extra supplies?”

“Would you rather myself and your sister and our allied nest sisters starve?”

“I would rather the mission see no accident.”

“As would I. Go do as I have asked, Knows-All-Things, help us prevent accidents, before I find a less chatty assistant to do your job.”

***

On the day of the launch, Many-Roads-Meet was summoned to Deep-Seeds’ lab for, he assumed, a farewell. Despite her manner, he was sure she was rather fond of him, as he had become fond of her and their discussions of mycology and medicine and ways to turn a planet or moon habitable. The theory, loose as it was, had potential. With her leaving, and his awaited delivery to the queen as her newest husband, he didn’t know if they would ever converse as they had again. If–when, he told himself, firmly, when she returned, what fascinating things they could have to discuss! If he wasn’t given other duties or set in the nurseries to watch his offspring. This hive could use the color, at least.

“You know, now that I think about it,” he said, approaching Deep-Seeds, “I’ve never met your queen. Do you think she will like me? Or, if I really do bore her, will she send me away to do other useful things, like, perhaps, work with you again, when you return?” Seeds twitched her antennae, fiddling with something in her foreclaws. “Will you bring my sisters my greetings?”

“Of course,” Deep- Seeds turned to him, clasping his arm. Sharp pain clipped between the joints of his armored elbow, followed by a rapid numbness. His legs folded underneath him and he fell onto his side. Deep-Seeds leaned down, and he rasped a distorted question as his jaw stopped responding properly.

His eyes couldn’t focus, any longer, but he saw a great shadow loom over him.

“Why did you kill him?” came the harsh demand from the warrior who often escorted Seeds about her business.

“I caught him copying my notes. What if he should slip them to his sisters? He knows too much of our sciences. And you, you should be getting ready to enter the ship! Send me Sunder-Under-Stone for disposal. I’ll see to the final crates, then join you.”

They clicked to each other for a moment but the guard did depart, and one of Deep-Seeds’ assistants–presumably, his vision was growing dark–entered.

“Take these. This should put her to sleep even if it doesn’t kill her, and this will make you queen…if it doesn’t kill you. It isn’t so pleasant as I had hoped, but…well, good luck.”

“Ha!” the other voice clacked.

“Help me put him in the crate.”

***

Knowledge-Comes-Easy fiddled with the controls, reading and re-reading the strings of information that told her, yes, the ship was in working order, as best she had been able to query it. The weight allowance was perfect, despite Red-Sands-Dark-Mud loading longer and later than Comes-Easy would have preferred. She had built enough buffer into their launch window, at least. She hoped. Far-Skies-Yet-Near had come into the ship, though she would not herself fly in it.

“Deep-Seeds passes on regards from our brother, and says he is happy and well.” Far-Skies said, with an affectionate nuzzle of her smaller sister’s antennae.

“I hope that is true,” Comes-Easy ducked away. “I hope he has more children than he can count, and that they grow wise listening to his stories.”

“As do I.”

They watched the readouts together, for a long moment.

“Far-Skies…When we return, do you think Deep-Seeds will pass on a message to him from us? He will want to know what we learn.”

“Time will tell.” Far-Skies nuzzled again, and Comes-Easy didn’t resist. “Come back safely.”

“We will.”

***

The launch was almost more terrifying to Deep-Seeds than what she planned to do. Still, if her deep and secret seeds were to come to fruition, she needed to act now. And so it was that her escort, her tale-teller, her jailer found her releasing a timed nauseant into the ventilation system. Nosy half-shell half-wit!

“Good, you’re here,” Deep-Seeds said quickly. “You are to do exactly as I say, in order to see the will of our queen done.” She opened her body language, and leaned her head closer to the warrior’s. “In three days, everyone will be space sick–I have the antidote, obviously–but we will use the excuse to sedate everyone so we may claim the moon for Red-Sands-Dark-Mud.” Maybe the extra claws and mandibles would be useful, at least.

“You’ll give me the antidote now.”

“It won’t mean anything if you use it now,” Deep-Seeds tossed her antennae. “But fine, as you like. I have nothing to hide.” She handed over one, and then another of the injectors. “You’ll need both, for your bulk. In the meantime, I need you to watch for any signs of any of the crew growing change-sick. I have other medication for that. And you, if you start feeling change sick,” Deep-Seeds handed over a third syringe. “Tell me…when we return, and you are given a name for your service, what would you like it to be?”

Her guard hesitated, mandibles twitching as she assessed the situation, and the question.

“Vigilance-Serves-The-Hive,” she said, after a moment, limbs still stiff with suspicion.

“Vigilance! What a name,” Deep-Seeds nodded. “You’ve certainly done your duties admirably. I do not doubt our queen will grant you the title.”

“Do not think I will be less watchful, Secret-Seeds-Deeply-Planted.” Vigilance clicked. “If you defy our queen, you will not return home in one piece.”

“Even if I return in several,” Deep-Seeds eyed the long black mandibles, “my name shall be coded into our histories as the one who enabled us to reach the stars again. And that is reward enough.” She bent, a show of casual vulnerability before the warrior. “To the glory of our hive and queen.”

Vigilance-Serves lived up to her desired name, but Deep-Seeds was too many steps ahead. She was also in as deep as her name, and almost cared no longer if she failed. What to do when–if–she succeeded, that was the larger question.

Some grew change-sick sooner than others, and, though she had tested it several times, was gratified to see her drug worked to keep the matriarchal genes latent.

As they locked the lander down after touching to the moon’s surface, the first few workers began to feel ill, and reported to Deep-Seeds for care. Using a slow-acting sedative, she dosed each carefully as they came to her, advising them to rest in their pods til they recovered, a much nicer outcome than having to haul them out of her way herself.

“And you, how are you feeling, Vigilance-Serves?” Deep-Seeds asked, noting how many remained on her roster.

“Fine. I still have your medicine.”

“Good. Don’t forget to use it, when you start feeling unwell. Send Knowledge-Comes-Easy to me, would you?”

“No need. I am here. However,” Comes-Easy stepped in, in the silken undergarment of her moon-exploration suit, “there is something I wish to ask you, Deep-Seeds, and privately, if that doesn’t twist your antennae.”

Knowledge-Comes-Easy watched Deep-Seeds hesitate. Deep-Seeds’ warrior twitched her mandibles, a threat or permission, Comes-Easy was no longer sure.

“Excuse us, then. Won’t be a moment, don’t neglect your medicine” Deep-Seeds dipped to her guard, and followed Comes-Easy to the cargo hold. Deep-Seeds tilted her head in a question. Comes-Easy turned around. Comes-Easy had never liked Deep-Seeds, who was alternately smug and flattering, depending on what served her at the time.

“What are you planning?” Comes-Easy demanded.

“Planning?” Deep-Seeds tucked her forelegs up in surprise.

“One of my suit joints had a loose coupling–nothing we didn’t bring replacements for. But, while I was searching through the crates, I saw one I didn’t recognize. Can you explain to me,” Comes-Easy reached out and unlatched the crate door, which fell open, “why the corpse of my brother is on this ship!?”

A hiss of rage and surprise split the air behind them.

“You…traitor…” the guard that followed Deep-Seeds stumbled through the cargo bay door, falling on limbs which twisted uselessly beneath her. Deep-Seeds hissed and spread her mandibles, dancing out of the way of the larger warrior. One of the medication syringes tumbled from the warrior’s limp claw. Comes-Easy recoiled. They had been too trusting. They had all been too trusting.

Deep-Seeds hissed again, springing at the warrior. She landed on her elder sister’s back, and crunched her mandibles through the joint where neck met head. The guard died, still snapping her own mandibles.

“Fight me, and you will die too,” Deep-Seeds snarled, mandibles wide again, legs tensed to leap again. “Hail Red-Sands-Dark-Mud, and tell me if Sunder-Under-Stone is queen now, or if that miserable piece of wing-rot still reigns.”

Comes-Easy bent and opened her mandibles too, tail high, lungs working overtime in the thin undersuit.

“Go!” Deep-Seeds snapped, “For his sake, I won’t kill you if you don’t fight. He isn’t dead. I still need him.” Deep-Seeds clicked her mandibles, then stabbed one of her little medications into her leg.

***

Many-Roads-Meet felt horrible, floaty, and nauseated. He twitched, rolled, landed, but not hard, and shook his head as things came slowly into focus.

“So, you live in the end, Knows-All-Things. Good. I worried, when you did not wake.”

“You…didn’t…kill me?”

“Certainly not. I am…pleased.” Things were still not in focus.

“Where are we?” He moistened his mouthparts.

“Did you not wish to visit the moon?”

“The moon?”

“Your sister is out with the others, exploring. The moon has some growth on it…fungus, lichens, the like. Should be worth studying, yes?”

“We’re on the moon?” Many-Roads shook his head again. Shapes and smells were beginning to reassert themselves.

Crates and boxes lined the walls, and Deep-Seeds lay sprawled on the floor, a pair of vermillion wings folded across her back. She was bigger, longer, much longer, and regarded him with glittering eyes.

“You Changed.”

“To everyone’s vast displeasure, yes. Except my own. And perhaps, except yours.” She tilted her head. “Red-Sands-Dark-Mud has a new queen…Sunder-Under-Stone is ambitious, but has agreed to pursue things other than territory. I preside over Moon-Once-Barren. It may be barren again, depending.”

“Depending on?” Many-Roads asked.

“Whether Queen-Sunder-Under-Stone sends us the supplies she has promised. Whether you return home on that ship, or stay and give me daughters. Whether we starve in the meantime. Whether we suffocate, ultimately.” She laughed, a small, raspy laugh and flip of the antennae. “Still, your theories give me hope we might stay, might grow–one day we may even call her Fruitful-Moon. The air is thin and we are rationing until we can see if our food will grow here.”

“You need me. My theories.” A thought as thrilling as it was suddenly real, heavy, and frightening.

“I need you here, yes. Want you here.” Deep-Seeds bobbed her head, antennae drooping. “Your sisters have asked Tall-Grass-Under-Sun to support us. One suit or another might be made to fit you, and you may be able to explore yourself. I will die on this moon, one way or another…but I am pleased you are not dead.”

Many-Roads felt along the contours of his new responsibility. Large, but not unbearable. He didn’t think so, at least. The honor of becoming a First Father himself was as grand and foreign as the moon separated from his claws only by the metal shell his sister had designed.

“Perhaps you can explain to me what happened,” he settled himself beside Deep-Seeds’ head, expectant.

“Perhaps. But another time.” She leaned against his flank. “When I wake.”

Many thanks again to the fabulous friends, family, and mortal enemies who endured perpetual requests for opinions and feedback.