Firebrand

"I like this game," Holly replied, the plates that made up her face shifting to form a smile.

"Beginner's luck," Harry said, feigning poor sportsmanship.

Blackjack pushed a handful of his condiments to the center of the table, grunting his challenge. Holly examined her cards for a moment, clutched in her upper pair of hands, then called with the lower pair as the off-white tips of her antennae bobbed in the air.

"Let us see your cards," she said, BJ laying his hand down on the table.

"Full House," Harry said with an impressed nod. "Three Kings and two threes."

Holly revealed her own hand, grumbling as she compared the two.

"Flush," Harry said, peering across the table at her cards. "A King, a Jack, a nine, a four, and a two. Full House beats a flush. Hang on," he added, narrowing his eyes at Blackjack's cards. "Why are there two Kings of Spades in the deck, BJ?"

Holly began to giggle as the reptile produced another pair of high-value cards, using a sleight of hand trick to make it seem as though they had appeared from thin air, holding them between his scaly fingers.

"I don't know why I play with you," Harry complained. "Where are you even hidin' those? You're not wearing any clothes!"

Holly's laughter filled the kitchen as the Krell rubbed his hands together, revealing his empty palms. Harry reached across the table and tried to grab his wrist, determined to see where they were going, Blackjack moving his arm out of reach.

"It's behind his hand," Holly giggled, "I can see it!"

"So you're back-palmin' them, are you?" Harry demanded. He couldn't keep a straight face as Blackjack's hand vanished below the table, reemerging with what looked like most of a stack of cards and spraying them at him. Holly doubled over as the torrent of cards scattered about the table, the Krell loosing a rhythmic, low-frequency huffing sound that was his equivalent of laughter.

She reached out and scooped up his pile of condiments, returning them to her own stash.

"I win," she announced, "I have accrued a total value of five hundred and twenty-seven."

"It's a shame you can't spend mustard on anythin'," Harry replied, "or you'd be rich."

"I will purchase some food," she said, sliding a ketchup packet across the table towards him.

"Oh, I see," Harry said as he snatched up the condiment. "You're practicin' for when you're gonna be rollin' in Coalition money. At your service, Madame."

"The station personnel will have provided me with nutrient paste," she said, gesturing to the cupboards. "There will be a supply here somewhere."

"Does it need to be refrigerated?" Harry asked, and she shook her head. He reached up and rummaged through a couple of cupboards before finding what she had described. There were several clear packets that looked like blood bags, filled with an amber-colored, translucent fluid that resembled honey. As he set them on the counter, he realized that he recognized them. They were UNN-branded, he had eaten them as a component of some of the more recent MREs out in the field. The stuff was great on crackers.

"What the...we've been eatin' these," he muttered as he held up one of the packets. "I always assumed it was some kind of jelly..."

"We have been providing nutrient supplements to the UNN, yes," she replied with a nod. "We trade them for other resources that we cannot obtain in the valley, as we are not allowed to set foot outside of its bounds for the time being."

"They've been feedin' us Bug paste?" Harry asked, sticking out his tongue in an expression of disgust.

"Do you dislike the taste?" Holly asked, cocking her head at him quizzically.

"I mean...no, not really. It tastes pretty great, actually. Gives you a kick, like drinking a sports drink, but I can see why they didn't tell us where it came from. Do I want to ask you how it's made, or am I gonna regret that?" he asked as he turned to pass her one of the bags.

"Raw materials are rendered down in the crop of a Replete," she explained as she took the bag, opening the seal and plunging her proboscis into the fluid like a straw. "This food is a product of all of the nutrients and vitamins that could be gleaned from them."

"What's a crop?" he asked warily.

"The crop is an organ not unlike a stomach, where digestive enzymes dissolve the raw materials into their base components. Sugars, vitamins, minerals, amino acids, things like that. The resulting paste is then fed to other members of the hive."

"I see," Harry mumbled, starting to feel a little green as he watched her fleshy organ bulge with each gulp. "And, uh...what kind of raw materials are we talkin' about here?"

"Plant and animal matter for the most part," she replied, peering up at him as the bag slowly drained. "Workers forage for suitable plants outside the hive, and Drones hunt native animals for their meat. We are omnivores, not unlike humans, and we have many of the same nutritional requirements. When a member of the hive dies of injury or natural causes, their bodies are usually consumed by the Repletes, and rendered down into-"

"Alright, too much information," Harry said with a wave of his hand. "I think I'll trade the next bag that I get for an energy bar..."

"May I have more?" Holly asked, setting her now empty bag on the table. Harry passed another to her, and she started all over again, holding the bag between her upper pair of hands as she slowly drained it.

"Man, you really like that stuff," Harry muttered. "You're wolfin' it down."

"It is all that we eat," she replied. "At least until now."

"Yeah, you like your hot chocolate too," he chuckled.

"May I use the shower when I am finished?" she asked.

"Yeah, of course. I didn't realize that Bugs took showers."

"We do not usually," she replied. "Workers bathe the other castes using their tongues to clean their carapaces, but I am alone now, I must bathe as my father would."

"Okay..." Harry muttered, trying to imagine what that might look like. "I'll show you how to use it."

When she was done eating, Harry led her to the bathroom, while Blackjack resumed his slumber on the floor. He showed her how to regulate the temperature and flow using the touch panel controls, and also how to lock the door.

"Do Bugs have a sense of modesty?" he asked skeptically, Holly holding the door open for a moment as he stood outside.

"I do," she replied, closing the sliding panel on him. Harry shrugged, and made his way back over to the kitchen, intent on fixing himself a real meal. He hadn't eaten anything but cereal since arriving, and there was no word yet on when they would be allowed to leave.

***

Holly felt the cool water run over her carapace, flowing between the joints, soothing her exposed skin. She reached out and tapped at the control panel, making it slightly warmer, her muscles relaxing as steam began to fog the glass cubicle.

She ran her fingers along the branching hairs of the sensitive antennae that protruded from the top of her head, reaching behind her with her lower pair of arms to wash those that draped down her back, cleaning them of the residue and tiny particles that they had ensnared. It wasn't quite as thorough as being bathed by a Worker, but it felt good all the same.

Her thoughts turned to Sergeant Hayes and what he had said about modesty. What did she care if he saw her without her armor on? Could she even be nude, lacking the human features that defined the term? If not, then why did the thought make her feel so...vulnerable?

She moved her hands down her torso, gently washing the exposed, fleshy parts of her body that were usually concealed beneath the hard covering. They were softer than her firm carapace, more sensitive to touch. It was nice to be free of the armor, if only for a short while. Why the Queen had seen fit to outfit her with it, rather than simply baking it into her genome, she had no idea. Perhaps her creation had not produced the desired result, and the Queen had merely repaired Holly's body after her gestation in lieu of creating a new ambassador to replace her?

Holly found herself hoping that was not the case, the survival of the colony should not have been entrusted to a flawed design.

Yet that was not the only thing that she didn't understand about herself, not the only possible defect. Ever since she had arrived on the station, the plethora of new scents and new sensations had sent her reeling, so numerous and so varied that she was almost unable to process them. Maintaining her composure, projecting that air of poise that was so important to her ambassadorial image was a constant struggle. The comforting, safe scents of damp soil and family were long gone, these new smells instilling strange emotions in her that she felt unable to control.

Being around Sergeant Hayes was the most difficult of all her trials. Her people were sensitive to pheromones, it was their primary means of communication, the way that they experienced the world around them. There were other senses, too. Her eyes picked up wavelengths of light, her carapace could sense vibrations in the air, she could reach out and touch objects. But scent still ruled her, it was many times more powerful and more immediate than her other senses.

There was something about the Sergeant that drew her to him, a magnetism that only seemed to grow stronger the longer they interacted. Despite his initial misgivings, he was kind to her where the others like him were suspicious. He no longer treated her as an emotionless insect, a biological machine, but rather an intellectual equal worthy of engaging with. He made her laugh, and when that happened, she felt an odd fluttering sensation rise from within the depths of her belly. The more she grew to like him, the more his scent appealed to her, creeping into her brain insidiously and diverting her thoughts from her purpose. It was becoming distracting.

Was that by design, or was it a mistake, an unintended by-product of her human DNA? The Queen had not warned her of any of this during her extensive mission briefings, and Holly could no longer seek her wisdom, nor could she go to her father for advice. Human pheromones were a quiet whisper compared to the loud voices of her kin, but they did produce them, however weak they might be. Was her sensitivity to the alluring, masculine musk that he put out the intention of her Queen, or was she picking up the organic equivalent of radio static?

She examined her own hands beneath the water, flexing her pink, fleshy fingers as she let the warm liquid flow over them. She had always thought of the human elements of her DNA as being secondary to her Jarilan genome, she outwardly resembled a Jarilan far more than she did a human, after all. But more and more, she was starting to experience emotions and sensations that could serve no conceivable purpose, irrelevant to her diplomatic mission. How did these feelings further the hive's goals?

Should she block them out and focus on her task, her sole reason for being, or was it the Queen's intention that she explore them? It was all so confusing...

Her thoughts turned to Sergeant Hayes again, his warm smile, the way that he joked and teased. The warmth of his body as they sat together beside the intangible flames, the taste of the cocoa that he made for her, his words of support and encouragement. That fluttering sensation returned to her abdomen, her chest seeming to warm and swell, her heart pumping faster.

She clenched her fists, the internal conflict making them tremble.

"What would you have wanted me to do?" she whispered to herself, the patter of water on the tiles below drowning out her voice.

***

Holly emerged from the bathroom with a fresh shine to her carapace, its lustrous surface catching the light with its colorful iridescence. She was patting at the soft ruff of fur around her neck with a towel, still drying off.

Not for the first time, Harry's eyes were drawn to her oddly human, feminine silhouette. Her corset-like carapace pinched her waist, her wide hips and her wing-like skirt flaring out to give her a pronounced, hourglass figure. He could see more of her fluff beneath her gossamer wings, the white fur lining the exterior of her upper thighs, making it look like her skirt had a fur lining. It seemed to sparkle as she walked, the individual hairs refracting the light, her measured gait making her hips rock from side to side as though she was making her way down a catwalk. The longer pair of translucent wings that seemed to be connected to her body just above her rump trailed behind her, like a gown fashioned from the wings of a dragonfly.

Her pink skin too seemed cleaner in the sparse places where it was visible, waxy, reflective. Between her regal ruff and above her chitin corset were the two mounds of pink flesh that so resembled a woman's bosom. They seemed to be pushed up by the rigid armor of her chest, a subtle ripple passing through them with every step. Her inner thighs were much the same, made from soft flesh that shook gently when she walked, contrasting starkly with the pearlescent chitin that encased them.

Again, he found himself wondering whether these traits were an intentional attempt to mimic the human form, or if it was a purely incidental result of her hybrid heritage.

She met Harry's gaze from the kitchen table as he ate a plate of scrambled eggs on toast, the two antennae on her her head twitching.

"Feel better?" he asked, pausing his chewing for a moment. "Hey, come check this out. You've never seen human food like this before, right?"

She finished drying her ruff, then straightened her gossamer skirt, ignoring his comment.

"Sergeant Hayes," she began, "I wish to review the information on the Elysian and Rask ambassadors."

"Oh?" he asked, setting down his fork and giving her a confused glance. "I thought you were pretty satisfied on that front?"

"I must take every available opportunity to ensure the success of my mission," she replied dispassionately.

"Well...if you think it's necessary," Harry replied with a shrug. "But you have the votes that you need already unless both the Araxie and the Valbarans do a total one-eighty, which seems pretty unlikely at this point."

"Irrelevant," Holly replied tersely, "there is more that I can accomplish in service of my Queen."

"Alright," Harry muttered. "Just let me finish eatin', and I'll be right with you. I'm afraid I used some of your Poker winnings on my eggs," he joked, "you're down to five hundred and seventeen points. Let me know if you want a rematch, and I'll try to keep BJ from cheatin' this time."

She watched him as he ate, her gaze somehow cold, distant. She was standing with her hands neatly clasped in front of her, just as she did when she spoke to the other delegates, as motionless as a store mannequin.

"I can get you somethin' to drink while you wait," he suggested, "want another hot chocolate?"

"That will not be necessary," she replied.

He shrugged, finishing up the last of his eggs as she waited patiently. When he was done, he picked up the tablet from the table, closing the Poker hand reference sheet and opening up the database that they had browsed together earlier.

"You want to sit with me again while we read it?" he suggested, "we can put the fire on if you like. Hell, I'm pretty sure I saw some marshmallows in one of the cupboards when I was searchin' for your Bug paste. They probably won't cook over the heating element, but I can show you how we-"

"That will not be necessary," she replied, holding out a hand expectantly. "I know how to operate the tablet computer now. Thank you, Sergeant."

Harry handed the tablet to her, frowning as she marched over to the couch and sat down, crossing her long legs. Blackjack raised his head from the wood floor, glancing between the two of them and giving Harry a low, quizzical rumble. Harry shrugged silently, he didn't understand her sudden shift in attitude either. Just when he had started to feel like she was warming up to him, letting herself relax and having a little fun, she had reverted straight back to robot-mode. Maybe getting wet pissed Bugs off or something, who knew?

CHAPTER 10: HOLE CARD

"We can't get her to talk," Boyd sighed, Lorza closing the interrogation room's door behind him as she followed him out. Moralez was waiting for them in the corridor outside, looking up from his tablet computer as they emerged. "She's as stubborn as a mule, won't give us the time of day, let alone a confession."

"She continues to insist that she had no part in the attack," Lorza added, "and she demands that her right to diplomatic immunity be respected. I fear that we will be forced to release her if no further evidence is found. When the Rask Matriarchy lodges a formal complaint, as they surely will, we will no longer be able to hold her."

"The listening device alone isn't enough to pin her," Moralez muttered, scratching his stubbly chin with his prosthetic fingers. "We need to find out who was receiving that signal, who pulled the trigger, and we have no leads. Without that, we can't link anything back to Korbaz."

"Did you figure out how she got it past the security check?" Boyd asked, Moralez shaking his head.

"No, it shows up on the scanners just fine, and materials analysis didn't reveal anything out of the ordinary. Even if she had swallowed the damned thing, it would have been detected. It just doesn't make sense."

"Well, we can't decrypt the wireless signal that it was sending," Boyd added. "It's consumer-grade, but even that would take a supercomputer decades to crack. Did the search for the weapon turn up anything yet?"

Moralez shook his head once more, loosing a frustrated sigh. It had been a long day, and despite their discoveries, he felt no closer to finding an answer that would satisfy Vos. There were only around thirty hours left until the deadline that the Admiral had set.

"My people are still looking, but they haven't found anything so far. If we can locate the railgun, then maybe we can figure out where it came from, but the trail has gone cold for now."

"Then I don't see what else we can do," Boyd said with a shrug of his shoulders. He seemed just as deflated as Moralez felt. "We have nothing left to follow up on."

"Perhaps we still do," Moralez said cryptically, beginning to pace in the hall. "Have either of you considered that Vice Admiral Korbaz might be telling the truth? I wouldn't say that we have a close relationship, but this just feels wrong to me, it isn't her style. If she was going to smuggle something onto the hub to assassinate someone, it would be a weapon, and she'd do it face to face."

"Yeah, I considered it," Boyd replied dismissively. "But where does it get us? Assume that someone somehow got close enough to her to plant the device without being noticed, which is a hard enough prospect where humans are concerned, never mind Borealans who can hear a mouse fart through three feet of hull. We still don't know how it got past security, we still don't know who was receiving the signal, and we still don't know who took the shot. Right now, Korbaz is the only lead we have."

"She acted very suspiciously during the interview, and she readily resisted arrest," Lorza added.

"She always acts suspiciously," Moralez replied, "and of course a proud Rask would resist arrest. The more I think on it, the more out of character this all seems."

"Okay, so let's say she's innocent," Boyd continued. "It still doesn't tell us how she got the fucking transmitter through security."

"Perhaps it does," Lorza mused, leaning against the wall beside the door to the interrogation room and crossing her arms. She paused for a moment, considering as the two humans turned to peer up at her expectantly. "What if the transmitter never passed through the security check at all? If all evidence suggests that sneaking it through would be an impossible feat, then what options remain?"