Firebrand

"So your dad is like...the Bug King?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"And how did she obtain his DNA?"

"He mated with her," she replied, cocking her head as Harry grimaced. "Why does that idea displease you so, Sergeant Hayes? How else would he transfer his species' genetic material?"

"So...let me get this straight. All of the Bugs that were born since, along with you, are half-human?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. It was an oddly human gesture coming from such an alien creature, the motion making her antennae bob in the air. "The Queen merely selected the elements of his genetic code that were deemed beneficial and incorporated them into the genomes of subsequent castes. Think of it like transferring a few lines of code from one program to another. I have the most human genes of any caste so far, as my mission required many special adaptations."

"Well, that explains why you're so...uncanny," Harry said as he looked her up and down.

"I was designed with a very specific goal in mind," she continued, punctuating her explanation with gestures from her upper pair of hands. "Interacting with humans. That required vocal cords, a speech center for my brain, and associated social capabilities. Recognizing faces, understanding gestures, these are not simply concepts that can be taught. They all require their own hardware, so to speak, areas of the brain whose role is to process and interpret them. A natural Bug only communicates through pheromones, chemical markers. They also have a very acute sense of touch, and good eyesight, especially where colors are concerned. Any attributes beyond that are sourced from human genetic material."

"And the way you look," he continued. "Was that also by design, or was it a byproduct?"

"It would not do to be too forthcoming," she replied, uncrossing and then recrossing her legs. "A lady must keep some secrets, after all."

Harry sank back into the couch, crossing his arms as he mulled over what he had been told.

"You talk like you were manufactured," he said, glancing over at his iridescent ward. "Like a robot or something."

"It is my understanding that my people's knowledge of genetic engineering far exceeds that of the Coalition," she replied. "It is one of the many gifts that we hope to offer you."

"Must be weird to be made with a single goal in mind," he muttered. "Means you can't choose what you want to be."

"On the contrary, I find it comforting," she replied confidently. "I do not mean this in a derogative way, Sergeant, but humans are born without a purpose. They come into the world not knowing what they are, or what they're going to become. That is not the case for my people. We are created for a predetermined purpose, and from the moment we are aware, we know what we're supposed to do. We have an irresistible impulse to dig tunnels, or to guard the colony, it's literally written into our genes."

"And what's written into your genes?" he asked suspiciously.

"To make peace, to learn, to interact."

"But you have more autonomy than the other critters...sorry, Bugs, right? Do you have free will, or are you just running on a program, like a biological machine?"

"The question of free will is more a philosophical one than a genetic one," she replied, her confidence faltering a little. Had he struck a nerve? "But yes, by necessity, I have more autonomy than my sisters. I must operate far from the colony, without the counsel of my Queen."

"So your sisters are less intelligent than you?"

"I would call it single-mindedness," she replied. This line of questioning seemed to be irritating her a little now, but Harry didn't let up, he wanted to see how she would react. "Contrary to what some might believe, my people are deeply social and emotional creatures. That they are hyperspecialized does not make them stupid. Take your friend, for instance, the Krell," she said as she gestured to the dozing reptile. "Does his sluggish nature and lack of language skills make him unintelligent? No."

"What do you know of the Krell?" Harry asked, impressed by her insight.

"My father taught me about them, he served alongside several during his Navy career. I must get to know all of the Coalition's members if I am to perform my duties."

"And what's the plan?" Harry asked. "What happens if you get what you want at the meeting?"

"Then the Jarilo colony becomes an equal partner in the Coalition, and our survival is ensured," she replied. "We desire only the right to exist, a right that all other species enjoy."

"But that isn't a right that the Bugs respect," Harry scoffed. "I'm on my second three-year tour in the Navy, and we've been at war with the Betelgeusians for going on thirty years now. I've seen some shit. The Bugs don't respect anyone else's rights, they don't follow any rules of engagement, they just kill whatever they find by whatever means are most expedient. You see that helmet over there?" he added, gesturing to the helmet that was sitting on the coffee table. "It has a built-in rebreather because the Bugs like to hit us with chemical weapons that melt our mucous membranes and make us drown in our own liquefied organs. Plasma weapons were banned in UNN space for being inhumane until the Bugs started using them against us. I've seen partially dismembered Drones get up and keep coming at our lines like zombies. How do you make peace with that?"

"Even after everything that I have told you, you still see me as just a Betelgeusian?" the ambassador asked. The antennae on her head drooped, she seemed deflated. "Perhaps my task will be more difficult than I had anticipated..."

Harry felt a pang of remorse, but quickly suppressed it. She obviously believed what she was saying, he didn't get the impression that she was trying to deceive him, but she was still a Bug. He didn't owe her the benefit of the doubt.

CHAPTER 4: RAISING THE STAKES

The pieces were all on the board, and the game was about to begin. The delegates had been given enough time to settle in, and the Admiral had given the green light for the security council meeting to begin. This was the most challenging part of Moralez's job, coordinating with so many different departments and security teams to ensure that everyone got where they needed to be without incident.

Not including the Admiral himself, who would be attending on behalf of the UNN, there were seven different delegations who all needed to be escorted to the central hub. Moving the Bug ambassador was going to be the most difficult of all. What was he supposed to do, throw a bedsheet over her? The central hub of the Pinwheel was where all of the control systems for the station were located, along with the Admiral's quarters. It was a high-security area that was only accessible via the long spokes that joined it to the torus, so there were no maintenance tunnels to move her through in secret.

He looked down at the monitor on his wrist as a call from the Admiral came through, tapping at the holographic display and patching it through to his earpiece.

"Security Chief," the Admiral began. He sounded especially testy today, and Moralez didn't want to get on his bad side. "Give me some good news."

"Yes, Admiral. All of the delegates, save for the Betelgeusian, are being escorted from their suites to spoke number six by my security teams. We had a little trouble finding Vice Admiral Korbaz, she was killing time with some of her countrymen down at the recreation center, but I'm having her brought upspin now. When they arrive, I'll be personally escorting them to the conference room."

"Good," the Admiral replied, "and the Bug?"

"There are no service tunnels that lead onto the hub, as you know, Admiral. I was thinking of having her brought down to one of the smaller hangars and then transferring her to the hub via shuttle. There are emergency docking bays that can accommodate small craft on the hub, but I'd need your permission, and probably some kind of clearance to make that happen."

"I'll see to it that you have whatever you need," the Admiral replied. "Make sure that you're able to coordinate with your team, I've decided that I want the Betelgeusian ambassador brought in only after the Valbaran application has been voted on. I want them to be able to have their say in the matter."

"You believe that the Valbaran application will be accepted, Sir?" Moralez asked.

"I see no reason to believe otherwise," he replied. "Have your men transfer the Bug by shuttle, and then have them wait in one of the empty offices nearby. They need to be ready to bring her in on my signal."

"Sir, do you really think it's wise to keep the ambassadors in the dark on this issue? I can't imagine that Korbaz is going to react very positively, and we don't know much about the Valbarans, save for the fact that they've suffered at the hands of the Bugs."

"Your job is not to comment on political matters, Security Chief," the Admiral replied tersely. "Just make sure that everyone gets here in one piece."

"My apologies, Admiral," Moralez replied. "I'll see that it gets done."

He closed the connection, then loosed a sigh that he had been holding in. Just his luck that the only Admiral on the station right now was a hardass, his job would be a whole lot easier if Admiral Murray were around. He tapped at his wrist again, and Harry quickly answered.

"What's up, Chief?"

"How's our guest, Harry?" he asked.

"She's safe and sound. Cooperative, if a little surly."

"Good, stand by for orders. The Admiral wants her brought down to one of the hangars via the service tunnels and then transferred to the hub by shuttle, where you'll wait to be called into the conference room. I'll be able to give you more details soon, but be ready to move. Let me know if you need more Marines."

"Roger that, Chief. Just say the word."

***

The Chief closed the connection, and Harry rose from the couch, retrieving his helmet from the coffee table and slotting it back over his head. Blackjack opened one eye lazily and begrudgingly climbed to his feet, his long snout opening wide in a yawn to expose the rows of jagged teeth that lined his maw.

"We'll be moving soon," he said to the ambassador, who was still sitting across from him. After their initial conversation had taken a sour turn, they had mostly sat in silence for the next couple of hours, counting down the minutes until they could move things along. He couldn't help but imagine that she had used to the time to reassess her approach at the meeting, she had seemed taken aback by his unwillingness to accept her attempts to set herself apart from her species at large.

"Very good," she said, remaining seated with her long legs crossed.

"Just waitin' on the Chief to tell us where to go."

"Sergeant Hayes," she began, Harry pausing to glance at her from beneath the open visor of his helmet. "Concerning our discussion earlier...I did not mean to upset you. If I have behaved inappropriately, then I apologize for that. Interacting with humans other than my father is still new to me, and now I fear that I am not as versed in human social norms as I had initially thought."

Damn it, she just had to go and turn it around on him, didn't she? Harry sighed, reaching up to scratch his stubbly chin as she peered at him expectantly with her large, pink eyes.

"The last thing I want to do is throw you off before you go into that meeting," he said, the alien batting her lashes at him. "I get it, I do. You're here to make sure that your people have a future, and that's my job too. You do it by trying to get your point across, and I do it down the barrel of a gun, but we're both in the same business. When we're lying in bed at night, we both worry about the same things."

She nodded, her antennae bobbing in the air.

"I'll be twenty-five soon," he continued, "and I've spent the last seven years of my life fighting Bugs. It's hard for me to give you a clean slate, as much as you insist that you're different from the rest. All the shit I've seen...I can't just snap my fingers and have it all go away, y'know? I dunno," he added with a shrug, beginning to pace on the carpet beside the couch. "I'm not good at this kind of thing. Just know that it ain't personal, you didn't do anything wrong."

That seemed to perk her up somewhat, and it made him feel a little better too. Blackjack emitted an appreciative rumbling sound that made Harry's teeth chatter, the ambassador's eyes darting to him in alarm. The Krell seemed pleased that they had made up.

"Oh, it's like that?" he replied, turning to his companion. "What do you know, you big green goon?"

The ambassador put a hand to her lips, stifling a giggle as she glanced between the two of them.

There was an alert as the Chief sent a message to the computer on his wrist, Harry lifting it up and tapping at the touch panel.

"Alright, we have our orders. We're to proceed to hangar seventeen and board a waiting shuttle that will take us to the control hub. I've been sent access codes and a map of the service tunnels. Fuck me, it's like a maze in there..."

"I may be able to help with navigation," the ambassador volunteered, "I have a good sense of direction. My home was a similar maze of tunnels, after all."

Harry made his way over to the back of the room, where the panel that led into the service tunnels was still removed, leaning against the wall beside the opening. He pulled up the access code and tapped it in, the door that lay behind it opening with a whoosh.

"This way, Ambassador," he said as he gestured to the gloom that lay beyond.

***

"Honorable Ambassadors, if I could please have your attention," Moralez shouted over the roar of the torus. They were standing just outside spoke six, the passageway sectioned off behind a large pressure door, black and yellow warning stripes painted around its frame. It was large enough to let a Krell or perhaps a cart loaded with supplies pass through unhindered. It would seal shut in the event of an emergency, either to prevent the atmosphere from escaping or to prevent boarders from reaching the hub. A pair of security guards in black body armor were standing to either side of it, their XMRs slung across their chests.

The six delegations were standing nearby, a semi-circle of Marines forming a perimeter to keep the crowds at bay. There was the Elysian ambassador in his ornate, red armor, the Araxie in her two-piece suit standing beside him. The Valbarans numbered four, and they were standing at the front of the pack, their heads swiveling curiously as they took in the strange sights and fluttered their colorful feathers. The Krell Elder in his tribal garb stood beside the Broker at the rear, who had finally seen fit to leave the refuge of his strange vessel, while Korbaz stood apart from everyone else.

"Those of you who have visited the station before are already familiar with this process," the Chief continued. "But for those who are new to the Pinwheel, I will explain what is about to happen. The security council meeting will be taking place on the control hub, which is a secure area of the station. The only way to and from the hub are the long spokes that connect to the torus, where we are right now. Before you can be allowed to set foot on the hub, you will be required to submit to a screening process. This is routine, they'll just check you for concealed weapons and listening devices."

They lined up in single file, the Araxie ambassador at the head, the two Marines beginning to pat her down. She had an unusual number of pockets on the inside of her jacket, Moralez watching in amazement as what looked like an entire tool belt's worth of items were placed into one of the plastic trays that were sitting on a nearby table. A vial of what might be salt, an MRE packet, a flameless ration heater, a small tablet computer, a keyring, a lighter. He couldn't imagine what use she might have for such odd trinkets. When they were done searching her, one of the Marines produced a handheld scanner, waving it over her briefly.

"You're clear," he said, Ambassador Zuki standing to one side as the next person in line stepped forward.

Torza raised his arms obediently as the two guards began to pat him down, his heavy pauldrons clanking. There really wasn't any practical way that he could conceal anything, his clothing was thin and billowy beneath his armor plating, and he didn't have an abundance of pockets.

Next in line was the Krell, whose clothing was similarly spartan. The only things in the pockets of his leather poncho were odd charms and fetishes carved from wood and decorated with colorful feathers, which he was allowed to keep. After running the scanner over his abundance of necklaces and pendants briefly, he was cleared to enter the hub.

The Valbarans were patted down two by two, they were wearing their skin-tight, camouflaged jumpsuits. The Marines had to kneel to reach their legs due to their short stature. There were some issues during the scanning phase that held the process up for a little while. Electrical wiring ran through the suits like blood vessels, and they had onboard computers that powered the augmented reality HUDs on their helmets, along with the color panels that mimicked their feather displays. The system was putting out too much electromagnetic interference to be allowed onto the hub. Fortunately, the suits had replaceable batteries, which meant that they could also be removed, powering them down completely. A quick scan later, and they were cleared to pass.

When the Broker walked up to the pair of guards on its mechanical legs, they simply waved it through without performing any checks. As the Chief of Security, Moralez knew that it was station policy, but he didn't know why. Perhaps it was due to the fact that the Broker's listening devices, cameras, and electronics were inseparable from its body. It couldn't function without them. Or maybe it was due to the influence that its kind exerted over the alliance.

The last in line was Korbaz, and Moralez wandered a little closer, anticipating some kind of trouble. The Vice Admiral always seemed to make every interaction more difficult than it needed to be.

The braver of the two Marines stepped forward, approaching the towering feline. He reached out towards her leather jacket and was met with a low, rumbling growl that would have been enough to set the hairs on Moralez's arms on end if he still had any.

"Vice Admiral," he sighed, the Rask turning to peer at him with her yellow eyes as the Marine backed off. "Are you really going to hold everyone else up? You had no problem submitting to a pat-down the last time you were on the station, even if you had some issues handing over your weapons."

"If your Marines are not brave enough to do their duties, then perhaps you will take their place, Security Chief?"

Moralez knew that toothy grin, this was another one of her games. He shrugged, and drew closer, knowing that it was best to just give her what she wanted so that they could move things along.

"At least my arms are designed to be detached at the shoulder," he muttered, beginning to run his hands along her sleeves as she held them out for him. Almost immediately, he located something suspicious, rolling up the leather to reveal the sandy fur on her forearm. There was a leather belt just beneath her elbow, and attached to it was a sheath that held a blade. It was small by Borealan standards, but still about the size of a combat knife to him. He drew it from its scabbard and tossed it into one of the trays.

"You could just tell me what you have," he complained, the Rask chuckling under her breath.

"There would be no sport in that, Security Chief."