day it was, sunlight always reflected downward upon the intricately carved and gilded throne, bathing it with its warming rays. Absently, Kurokawa wondered where the monster sprawled whenever it rained.
The Celestial Mother was immense. He’d been told roughly what to expect by Esshk, but he was still taken aback. She was at least three times as big as Esshk, who was big for a Grik, and she was incredibly, grossly, shockingly obese to such a remarkable degree as to defy imagination. He was instantly reminded of the mythical, flightless Chinese dragons, except the Celestial Mother had none of their sinewy grace. More like a monstrous grub, he thought. Rolls of fat bulged beneath her skin and drooped from the saddlelike throne like half-empty sacks of grain. Jowls hung just as alarmingly around her polished, bleached-white teeth, and her carefully manicured and painted claws extended, unused, much farther than normal beyond fat, stumpy fingers. Her fur was unlike any Grik’s he’d seen before, either. Instead of the rather downy, striated, earth-tone covering he was used to, the Celestial Mother was adorned with actual plumage of a reddish gold hue, almost like new copper. It was beautiful. The contrast between the sparkling glory of her coat and the flabby obscenity it covered was striking. He had to remind himself that this ridiculous, virtually helpless creature before him might well be the most powerful being on this earth.
Together, Tsalka, Esshk, and Kurokawa mounted the first step of the triangular stone dais surrounding the throne and the two Grik instantly prostrated themselves. Kurokawa, with a surge of terror, took the gamble he’d been steeling himself for over the months-long journey to this place, ever since the three of them decided what they must do right after the defeat at Baalkpan: still standing, but making an elaborate flourish with his hands, he bowed very low. Tsalka couldn’t see him, but he must have known what he’d done because he emitted a barely audible hiss. The Celestial Mother shifted slightly, causing rolls of gelatinous fat to ripple, and regarded him with her relatively small, bloodred eyes.
“So,” she hissed, in a surprisingly high-pitched voice, “in addition to treason, incompetence, and a murderous waste of my precious Uul, I must add criminal impertinence to the charges against you.” Tsalka practically moaned. Saying nothing, Kurokawa held his pose. “Well, creature, formerly of the “Iron Ship Folk,” what have you to say for yourself?” The question was the opening Kurokawa had been hoping for.
“My most abject apologies, Your Majesty,” he humbly intoned in English-a language he knew she understood, even if she couldn’t speak it. “Among my people, this posture conveys the same meaning as that of Regent-Consort Tsalka and General Esshk. If anything, it signifies even greater respect. True warriors do not crawl on their bellies before any… being… in victory or defeat, and this posture is reserved only for those we consider worthy of our greatest respect and esteem. Forgive me if I have erred in presenting you with the most sincere honor and unreserved respect I am capable of.”
The Celestial Mother leaned back, considering, as surprised by the creature’s ability to speak so fluently in the “Scientific Tongue” as she was by his… interesting excuse. “Arise, Regent Tsalka, General Esshk,” she said, almost as an afterthought. She turned her full attention to the general as he rose and her voice became harder. “The Invincible Swarm is defeated,” she stated simply. “As you were once considered the greatest living general of our people, and particularly since you chose not to gently destroy yourself, but to come before me with an explanation-knowing your destruction here will not be ‘gentle’-I will allow you to speak.” She glanced at Tsalka. “You are blameless for the actual defeat. You are no general, after all, but I understand you were deeply involved in the planning that led to this disaster, so either you meddled inexcusably or Esshk displayed even greater incompetence by heeding your untrained counsel. Regardless, you have attached yourself to his failure and will share his fate… unless you can convince me, as you claim, that you and Esshk, as well as this unwholesome creature you bring before me, deserve to exist.” She paused. “No, in fact you must convince me beyond any doubt that your continued existence is essential not only to our ultimate success, but to our very survival as a species.”
She allowed them a moment to contemplate that and, with some effort, contorted herself enough so that she could reach the basket of struggling hatchlings beside her throne. Seizing one, she popped it in her mouth and began to chew. Selected by the Chooser, they were the rejects from her own nest, and her favorite snack.
Tsalka cleared his throat and began to speak. The Celestial Mother had succinctly laid it out, and as tall an order as it was, the opportunity was greater than he’d secretly suspected.
“I thank you, Giver of Life. It is true that General Esshk and I took a great risk by coming before you, but not merely for our meager selves. Against the knowledge we bear, our fates are insignificant. We risk your wrath because we do believe the existence of our very race is at stake. We have some few advantages, technological miracles our. .. partner in the Hunt has brought us.” He gestured with lingering annoyance at Kurokawa. “Those miracles have already been used to some good effect and we have many more at our disposal, not yet implemented. But truly our only hope for survival, I fear, is that some very fundamental changes be made.”
“Such as?” the Celestial Mother demanded, still chewing.
Tsalka paused, measuring his next words very carefully. Finally, almost resignedly, he pointed at the basket beside the throne and, by implication, the morsels within. “Well, for example, we must stop eating those. The Choosers cull them because they are not fiercely aggressive. They defend themselves fanatically against their nest-mates that attack them, but are not attackers themselves. Thus they are not considered fit for the Hunt. Distasteful as the concept might be, General Esshk has convinced me that defense is something we must learn to do.”
“Defense!” shrieked the Celestial Mother indignantly. “Defense is for prey! We are the predators all other creatures must defend against ! It has ever been thus! You would rend thousands of years of culture, tradition, based on a single defeat by an incompetently underestimated opponent? If that is the counsel you bring, prepare yourselves for the Traitor’s Death!”
Tsalka prostrated himself again, but to his credit, Esshk remained standing beside Kurokawa. Inwardly, Kurokawa trembled with dread, but he knew that if he showed any doubt or fear now, all was lost.
“Giver of Life,” Esshk said quietly, “with respect, and my most fervent worshipfulness, my life is, of course, yours to do with as you please, but I beg you to hear us. The Invincible Swarm was destroyed not only because we underestimated our foe-true enough-but because we were culturally unable to recognize the fact that the simple Tree Prey we met so long ago might have progressed into Worthy Prey. They have become other hunters who, in their fashion, have matched our capacity for the hunt. They had assistance, others like him”-he gestured at Kurokawa-“who taught them new miracles of war, but they adapted to those miracles more readily than we and used them more effectively. If we do not adapt as well, they will sweep us from the world.”
“Prey?”
“ Worthy Prey, Celestial Mother. And like other Worthy Prey, they have become hunters as well. Given time, they will pursue us.”
“Then we must mount another Swarm, greater than the one you wasted, and destroy them forever! Surely they suffered greatly as well. Now is the time to exterminate them!”
“I would agree… but where will we get the Uul, the warriors, for such a Swarm? Our frontiers are vast, and are we not now in contact with other Worthy Prey in the south? And in the west as well? I have heard rumors…”
The Celestial Mother waved a hand. “It is true. We always meet new prey as we expand, and sometimes the great storms deliver others unto us… like your pet, perhaps? This new “Worthy Prey” in the south and west is weak in numbers, and infests a small, chill, and undesirable land. We are in no rush to hunt them, and they are no threat to us. We will manage. We always have.”
“I propose that this time, you won’t,” Kurokawa interjected. He recognized the quaver in his voice and hoped the others didn’t. “Not without us,” he added more firmly.
“And what makes you so indispensable?” The Celestial Mother’s tone was suddenly low, threatening.
Kurokawa forged ahead, counting his points on his fingers. “First, you could probably destroy the Tree Folk- prey-as you said, with one more major campaign, but the losses would be staggering. Where will you get the troops… the Uul warriors? Second, they know your weakness now.” Even Esshk bristled at “weakness,” but Kurokawa continued. “No doubt they have seen and understand your inability to defend. As soon as they are able, they will attack. They must. Most likely, they will do so before you can adequately reinforce your forward outposts, like Aryaal.” He paused and took a deep, tense breath. “Without proper defensive tactics and preparations, those outposts cannot hold. To avoid even further pointless loss of… Uul”-he pronounced it “Ool”-“I most respectfully recommend that you evacuate them. The strategy of trading land for time is no disgrace if part of that strategy is to eventually recover what has been lost. Third, if we gain that time, we can use it to prepare. While the enemy-the
