Chapter 6

SIX

I t was the ashies who suggested they host the initial meet and greet of the Species Four delegates aboard their flagship. Zed quietly agreed with the proposition—the ashushk were the only species that had any experience in welcoming newcomers. They had welcomed the stin, and then humanity. Though the stin had been present for humanity's introduction, it would be a stretch to say the bug-like aliens had been welcoming.

As expected, the stin ambassador was vocal in her disapproval—especially when Theo explained what had happened to their ill-fated probe, how it had been destroyed by accident. In recompense, they wanted first billing with the new species. To be viewed as the galaxy's leaders, perhaps? Thankfully Theo and the ashushk ambassador were able to talk the stin down, making Zed think the posturing had been just that—more a gesture of annoyance rather than a true objection. The stin might be the galaxy's bullies, but they weren't stupid.

Humanity's delegation arrived aboard the ashushk vessel first. As friendly as humanity was with the ashushk, not many humans were ever granted the opportunity to board one of their ships. Not out of any sense of secrecy, Zed figured—more, it was the ashies' fascination with humanity that made them want to get close to human vessels, human cultures and see humans in their "natural" habitats. The ship was the largest the ashushk had to offer, the class humans called Galileo because the ashushk name was too difficult to pronounce—though it had a "ga" sound, so the nickname worked well enough. Its hull was spherical, reminding Zed of the soap-bubble buildings on Ashushk Prime, except the ship had one large sphere with other spheres attached at regular intervals. Life pods? Living quarters? Other types of rooms? Zed had no idea and doubted he'd get a chance for a tour. The shape was elegant enough, in a weird, ashie sort of way. Comforting, even though it was completely alien.

The air felt strange—the oxygen-nitrogen mixture was just different enough from Earth's to be alien, but not so much that the humans would need a respirator. The stin would be able to manage as well, though, again, the composition of air on the stin homeworld was much higher in nitrogen than either Earth or Ashushk Prime. From the information Species Four had shared with Zed over the past couple of days, he knew their atmosphere was comparable as well. Just another way that the species were more similar than different.

Arriving in advance of the stin was a bit of a snub, considering the stin had been members of the galactic community longer. Maybe the ashies were playing favorites in that regard, and why not? Humanity had never been to war with the small, peaceful, blue-skinned aliens. The stin had. Twice.

Bastards.

And that sort of thinking had to stop. He was supposed to be impartial. Zed took a breath as he surveyed the conference room the ashushk had fabricated in one of their cargo bays, close to the airlock. The cargo bay could be sealed off from the rest of the ship and would be once all the delegates were aboard. Just in case Species Four turned out to be not-so-friendly—which Zed highly doubted would occur—or the stin decided to be idiots. Which was far more likely.

He rubbed at the crease that seemed to have set up permanent residence between his brows. Since this all started, he'd been so focused on communicating with Species Four that he hadn't had time to consider the implications of the convocation Theo had set up. But here, now, standing in the conference room and waiting for the stin delegates to arrive, he couldn't ignore it any longer.

There were going to be stin—three of them, in fact—in the same room as Flick.

His lover stood beside him, twitching, the mechanical glove on his left hand swiping almost inaudibly against the smooth material of his utility pants. Zed shifted closer, close enough that each movement brushed his pantleg, too, but he didn't touch Flick otherwise. Now wasn't really the time. When this was done, though…fuck, when this meeting was done, Zed was whipping Flick back to the Jitendra and their quarters and folding him into bed, giving him a safe place to react however he needed to react.

The ashushk ambassador, Oemmeth, approached. Qek walked at the ambassador's side, with Elias and Ness following in their wake. Oemmeth was a bit taller than Qek, but more willowy in stature, with skin that tended toward gray rather than blue. Like the other ashushk on board, including Qek, Oemmeth had no gender—though, unlike Qek, none of the ashies had chosen a pronoun. Zed assumed each individual chosen for assignment on this ship was too old to spontaneously develop a gender when grouped with their fellow ashies. Qek, however, had nine years before she passed that threshold—so being here was a risk to her continued freedom. Not that the ashushk would imprison her if she actually turned into a her. Not officially, anyway. Gendered ashushk were revered and protected…and sequestered on Ashushk Prime, where they carried out their biological imperative to procreate. Not a bad life, but not the adventurous one Qek wanted.

"Emissary," Oemmeth said with a tilt of its head.

That wasn't getting any less weird to hear. Zed summoned a smile from somewhere. "Ambassador. Thank you once again for your hospitality."

The ambassador's forehead wrinkled in the ashushk equivalent of a smile. "It is our pleasure. The ashushk have been exceedingly fortunate to welcome so many potential friends. As with previous first encounters, we have set up a decontamination process in the airlock set aside for Species Four. You may wish to inform them so there is no misunderstanding." With another tilt of its head, Oemmeth moved toward Theo, who was speaking with AEF honor guards at the door. Zed passed along the information about the decontamination process to Species Four, unsurprised when the news was met with agreement, acceptance and gratitude.

Everyone wanted this to be a joyous occasion.

An ashushk voice announced the arrival of the stin shuttle. Zed strode across the room to stand beside Theo and the ashushk ambassador. In the handful of minutes before the creatures from his and Flick's nightmares entered the conference room, he tried not to think about the last time he'd seen a stin up close in a noncombat situation—the POW who'd been involved with Project Dreamweaver. He tried not to think of anything, really. Keeping his pulse and breathing steady was hard enough.

The stin ambassador entered first. As a female, she was a good head taller than the males that accompanied her. Instead of the armor and metallic claws Zed was used to seeing on stin, the three aliens wore leather straps of some kind, banding around their arms and waist and lower legs. The gray-green color of their chitin was easily visible—the ambassador's was more gray and less vibrant than the two males' accompanying her.

"Ambassador Ryrrk, welcome," Oemmeth said, its face placid but not completely smooth. The ashushk seemed far more at ease than Zed or Theo—though, in all fairness, it had been decades since the ashushk and stin had been to war, and only a year for the humans.

The stin hummed, a sound that always reminded Zed of cicadas on Earth. Loud and annoying, the noise reverberated in his skull behind his ears. He resisted rubbing that spot, but just barely, and he couldn't stop the narrowing of his eyes.

"Oemmeth," Ryrrk stated. She turned to Theo. "Paredess."

"Ambassador," Theo returned politely in Stin. Damn, that had been a language Zed would have paid good money not to hear again, even though he'd devoted quite a bit of time during his stint in covert ops learning it.

The dead black eyes of the stin met Zed's. She hummed again. "Anatoliussss."

Fuck. The stin POW had said his name the same way, with the sibilant S . Zed forced himself to nod, much as Theo had just done. "Ambassador." He said it in Standard English—he couldn't quite make his lips and throat form the stin words.

"The pet of the Guardians," Ryrrk continued in her own language.

"Their emissary." Theo switched to Standard and offered a closed-mouth grin, remembering his AEF training—smiles showing teeth were considered a challenge.

"Ah, but he has a collar, does he not?" Ryrrk eyed the cuff on Zed's wrist as though she was calculating how much force it would take to slice her claws through his forearm and take it for herself. "So kind of the Guardians to lend him to us."

This is what they do. Instigate. Stir shit up. He needed to remember, he needed to not react. The stin POW had been the same, pushing, prodding, poking. The need for conflict was hardwired into their nature, required for their health and well-being. They fought constantly—among themselves, with the ashushk, with humanity, and probably, eventually, with Species Four.

"I hope to be of service," Zed said, bowing slightly.

One of the ambassador's guards stepped forward, his nostril slits flaring. Zed wanted nothing more than to retreat, but he didn't dare. The smallest gesture could be seen as an insult. Don't react. Dear God, don't react.

"You smell…familiar," the stin rumbled.

Oh, wonderful. Had he fought this stin on the battlefield? How much more fucking awkward?—

"Ahh." The stin hummed and turned to Ryrrk, speaking in Standard. "Anatolius brought his own pet. I remember that smell. So sweet, so raw, especially when it screamed."

Zed froze. Flick—the asshole was talking about Flick. In the fucking POW camp . Rage slammed through him, making his vision hazy. He didn't realize he'd moved until Theo grabbed his elbow, his strong fingers digging hard into Zed's skin. He jerked his arm away from Theo and strode up to the stin guard, not caring that the alien towered over him by at least a foot. He lifted his head and stared into the creature's eyes, donning the calm, cold mantle he'd worn so often in his nine years of war, ice replacing the blood in his veins.

"You will not speak of him. You will not think of him," Zed growled in Stin. "This convocation is not about your race or mine, and I will not allow your bullshit to pollute something that should be hopeful. Do you understand?"

"Understand, human? I?—"

Ryrrk's claws sliced through one of the leather bands on the guard's upper arm. "Enough. Anatoliussss speaks the truth." She watched Zed, her bottomless eyes unreadable. "Harrar apologizes, Emissary."

The other stin had not made a noise, in apology or otherwise, but he'd take it. At least until the stin guard stepped out of line.

He wouldn't let them drag Flick back into that hellhole in his mind. He wouldn't .

Felix sought the vibration of the floor beneath his boot soles, the comforting eddy of sound that would reassure him he had not slipped into a nightmare, that he stood aboard an ashushk vessel—not far, far underground, screams echoing from walls of hard stone, the pain licking across his skin tightening old scars and reawakening his terror.

"Fix."

He batted at his ear, the metal of his glove catching the cartilage. The small sting distracted him from the screams he thought he could hear.

"Fixer."

A familiar brown face coalesced in front of him. Elias Idowu, his captain and friend. The man who had found him inside a crate of ore, half starved, half mad, and nearly out of oxygen.

"Eli."

"You good?"

Felix shook his head. He was not good. Breathing hurt. Why did his chest ache? Getting air past his throat and into his lungs proved a challenge. No one else fought suffocation. In fact, aside from Elias, everyone else present appeared focused on Zed and…

Jesus, Joseph and Mary, was it really him?

Felix met the challenging gaze of the stin named Harrar. Another scream echoed through his brain. The attention of everyone flicked from the small confrontation to him. Had he yelled? Shit, had he made a sound? He mustn't show fear; the stin thrived on the fear of their captives. That was what the AEF had taught him, it was what his humanity insisted upon. But it wasn't true. The stin enjoyed the taste of fear, yes, but what they liked more was the challenge of breaking a man who tried so hard not to show it.

"Not good," Felix murmured.

"Ignore them. Everyone else is."

Felix sucked in a deep breath. He would not mark this occasion with his shit. The sensible thing would be to withdraw.

An ashushk voice coalesced in the middle of the bay, repeating a message in three languages. " The Species Four vessel approaches ."

A round of clicking followed the announcement. A glottal hiss followed that. The humans murmured. Felix fought nausea. Zed and Elias closed ranks around him in an unsubtle show of support, and Felix battled his other enemy, the one that lived forever at the core of his being: rage. The urge to whirl his arms out and smack through the people surrounding him pulled at his limbs until his shoulders jerked. His hands curled, fingers becoming claws—the left restrained by his glove, the glove he had to wear because of the stin hissing a few meters away, eyeing him as one might a favored toy.

Felix thought about the knife tucked into his boot—then remembered he'd surrendered it to the guard in the antechamber. No weapons allowed. They were to greet their new neighbors in peace. Of course, the cargo hold used to host this first meeting could be sealed and flushed in seconds.

I don't want to die.

Those words had not circled his thoughts for many long years. More recently he'd clung to phrases such as "I'd die trying" or "I'm alive." Now, he had been spun back in time and placed beneath the heel of a boot he despised.

"Breathe, hon," Nessa said, her tone gentle.

Theo entered the huddle. "I'll be lodging a formal complaint as soon as we're done here."

"What will that do?" Zed murmured.

"Truthfully, very little. But it's better than shoving the bug out of the closest airlock." Theo grasped Felix's wrist. Instantly, Felix's fingers relaxed. "It's a tactic. They knew you'd be here and they knew Harrar's presence would unsettle the human delegation and the emissary. They're seeking to throw us off our game."

Zed's chin bobbed in agreement, but his words defied the calm gesture. "If one of them so much as?—"

"They won't."

"You don't know what I was going to say."

"If Harrar even looks at Felix, I will call attention to it. Make sure his attempt to unsettle one of the human delegates is made public. I don't know if your Species Four will understand such subtleties, but on the off chance that they might, the stin will have shown themselves to be bullies. Combined with the fact they've already lost a probe, they won't be making a good impression."

"If Species Four proves peaceful."

Rather than acknowledge Qek's point, Theo glanced at Zed. Nessa, Elias and Qek did the same. Theo's pair of aides peeked through the gaps, their attention also on the emissary.

"What do you want me to say?" Zed held out his hands. "They feel peaceful. They seem overjoyed to have finally made contact."

"Vessel is docking."

Felix imagined he could feel a shudder rippling through the skin of the Galileo class ship. He couldn't. The quake came from inside him. Theo's fingers still loosely encircled his wrist and Zed stood pressed against his side. Nessa had a hand at the small of his back, a point of heat that radiated forward in a comforting manner. He wanted to tell everyone to stand back, give him some space. He'd like to reassure them he would not snap, that he could do this. He could represent humanity without freaking out and embarrassing their species. All he could do, though, was stand in his cage of friends and be damned thankful that they were there.

And count.

Ten, nine, eight…

The rage leached out of him, or rather withdrew, receding through his pores like moisture into sand, retreating back to his core. He'd never be rid of it, but he could control it—with help. He could feel the hum of the ship through his boot soles again. Business as usual. He was in space. He was alive.

Felix pulled his wrist from Theo's grasp—gently. Theo half turned, a small smile plucking at the corner of his mouth. Then, with a nod, he returned his attention to the airlock through which the next chapter in the history of the galaxy would step.

Zed's fingers brushed his and Felix glanced up. The warmth of Zed flowed into his side, different from the small tingle still present in his left wrist, the trace Theo always seemed to leave behind. Felix jostled Zed's shoulder with his. "Go. You should stand with Theo. In front of Theo. Hell, this is your show."

Conflict shaded the serene hue of Zed's eyes for a second. "You going to be okay?"

"No. But I'll make it through this." Unless… No, don't go there . "I won't embarrass you."

"Flick—"

Felix pulled a smile from somewhere. It didn't crack as he pasted it on. "Ness will sedate me before I make a scene. Go."

Zed brushed the back of his hand again, their fingers tangling for a brief moment before he stepped forward, shoulder to shoulder with Theo. Theo's aides formed a sideways point to the triangle of humanity gathered to greet Species Four.

Felix inched back to stand level with Eli, Ness and Qek.

"Locked," the disembodied ashie voice reported. Felix tried to locate the comm panel, or array that could throw a voice into the middle of a space. The next announcement interrupted his search. " Outer hatch cycling ."

It seemed everyone, no matter their species, drew in a breath to hold, whether as a natural reaction to the cycle of a 'lock or apprehension regarding what lurked on the other side. Though they were aboard an ashushk vessel, the arrangement of the airlock differed little. Two doors, inner and outer, sandwiching a chamber used to equalize atmosphere, exchange gases and decontaminate as required. Advanced ashushk technology meant the inner hatch was transparent. A clear membrane stretched across the round doorway. Qek had explained the theory behind it. Apparently the membrane allowed for a faster cycle, and as it never dissipated, except under the most dire circumstances, it provided a permanent seal that could not be breached.

This difference meant that as soon as the outer hatch swirled open, any visitors would be evident. There, visible. All assembled would have their first glimpse of Species Four.

The outer hatch irised open to reveal a large dark shadow, and a collective gasp echoed through the chamber. Felix's already challenged nervous system bucked. The tension limning the shoulders of Zed and Theo helped. If they felt it, he could feel it.

The shadow lurched through the outer hatch. Light caught shining planes, dancing and winking before breaking into shafts that fell across the airlock. Several shot toward the membrane where they flared, spread and diffused. Everyone in the cargo hold rocked back. Even the stin.

Felix thought he heard a hiss from their camp, but couldn't be sure. His own heart beat so loudly, he could no longer detect the engine hum through his boots.

What was that in the airlock? Christ, was that another? The large figures appeared to be wearing armor made of multifaceted plates. Like their ships, the structure of the armor resembled crystal formations, with outcroppings that might be arms and legs. They seemed to be walking on the longer pair and using the shorter pair for balance. Great spikes rose from their shoulders, and when one turned, Felix observed a row of the protrusions down the middle of the back. It looked as if the alien carried a small mountain range across its broad shoulders.

Species Four was bipedal. And they were fucking huge. Taller than the stin. More broad. Scarier. So much scarier. As the first straightened, the top of its head—helmet?—brushed the ceiling of the airlock. Light speared toward the membrane again, only to splash back and bounce off the two figures. A shadow behind suggested a third sought entry to the airlock. Then a fourth stepped through, bunching the others up. The display was dazzling.

Felix had a moment to consider the fact Species Four's armor lacked all pretense of stealth before the front figure turned toward the membrane and leaned forward as if to peer through. Then he saw a face. Recessed into the crystalline planes of the head were two eye sockets. No nose, no mouth. The light within the sockets flicked back and forth—so obviously searching that Felix answered his own question. They were eyes, and they were not masked.

Was Species Four not…organic?

Perhaps their suits used technology so advanced…Felix shook his head. His mind refused to travel known paths. Instead, his thoughts halted, stunned, as he waited for more clues.

The Species Four vanguard's gaze swept across the cargo bay, then stopped. Zed's shoulders hitched upward, then dropped as his back arched.

They'd found their point of contact.

Touching the minds of Species Four had not prepared Zed for their physical appearance. He realized, as the delegates entered the conference room, that he hadn't pictured what the aliens might look like. Maybe something fluffy, to go with their enthusiastic and eager response to his contact.

Not hard planes of…crystal? With spikes. Motherfucking spikes .

It took all his will to remain standing, motionless, as the Species Four delegates lumbered across the floor. In a less sturdy locale, Zed had no doubt each step would have shaken the walls. The delegates thundered across the room, their steps slow, steady and very heavy. They paid little attention to the stin or the ashushk, focused completely on Zed. He had no basis for reading their body language or their expressions—hell, he could barely see their expressions, since there was so little contrast on their multifaceted faces.

When they stopped in front of him, Zed smiled—closemouthed, just in case—but before he could trigger the Guardian cuff, his neck tingled.

"Hello! Joy, happiness, excitement, discovery, amazement. Hello, hello, hello!"

Zed blinked at the rush of thoughts and emotions, and he couldn't stop his smile from widening. He dared anyone to resist reacting to such a flood of pure joy. He suddenly felt so much lighter, so much more optimistic than he had when he'd spotted the delegates through the clear membrane.

"Welcome," he said aloud, pairing it with mental layers.

The smallest Species Four stepped forward. The alien towered over Zed, easily as tall as Ambassador Ryrrk. Spikes jutted from its shoulders and upper arms, making it a formidable and frightening sight. Even this close, Zed could hardly make out its eyes, and there was no sign of a nose or mouth—it seemed like little more than a giant hunk of rock. Moving, crystalline rock, but still.

An upper appendage rose, lifting to Zed's eye level. Was that a hand? He was going to call it a hand. It seemed to have fingers, though they were not quite the agile appendages one might expect. Blunt and thick, they didn't look as if they could grip much. Without a deft touch, though, how had they built their ships? How had they managed to venture into space?

Zed's thoughts scattered as he realized one of those giant fingers was extended and paused a centimeter from his forehead.

"Gentle, peace, safe, must, help. Please?"

Asked like that, how could Zed say no? Wordlessly offering his acquiescence, he closed his eyes and leaned forward until his skin made contact with the crystal.

It was…surprisingly not cold. The tingle in the back of his neck intensified, crawling up into his skull and down into his chest, until his entire body seemed to be electrified. The sensation skittered along a range of frequencies, as though the alien was tuning him. It wasn't a terribly pleasant feeling, but it didn't hurt and it didn't feel invasive. Oddly, it felt kind of like an extended handshake—a little bit awkward and paired with wondering when it was going to end.

Finally, the Species Four withdrew its finger. Relief and joy reverberated in Zed's mind. "We know you now. Thank you." The communication was still not in words—but the thoughts were more refined, more focused, bouncing Zed's own meanings back to him. There was a definite sense of plural to the communication, as though the Species Four before him was not entirely an individual. No, that wasn't quite right—this was the spokesperson, separate…but connected.

He sent them " Curiosity."

They replied with a sense of two vibrations settling into a single resonance. "We learned you."

It was something, really, that this was not the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him.

"Anatoliussss," Ryrrk hissed.

Theo held up a hand, the movement just visible at the edge of Zed's field of vision. He didn't want to take his gaze away from the Species Four, not yet. "Ambassador, the emissary is here as a courtesy from the Guardians so we might be able to communicate with our new neighbors. Show some respect."

The stin buzzed in frustration. The Species Four delegates jerked as though someone had shot them with a stunner, and looked around, their movements rushed and edging on panic. They'd shown no reaction to the words spoken a moment before, but the buzz…

Vibrations.

"Dissonance, dissonance," the Species Four moaned.

"Stop!" Zed shouted. "Stop!"

Ryrrk's buzzing grew louder, stronger. Zed watched in horror as the largest Species Four took two steps toward the stin and grabbed her by the throat. The buzzing cut off—but her guards crouched, hissing, ready for battle. Ryrrk phase-shifted, vanishing and falling out of the crystalline alien's grasp, only to appear a moment later behind her guards, just as eager as they seemed to be to engage Species Four.

Dodging the hulking spikes of Species Four to get in between the stin and their target would take too long. Zed Zoned and phase-shifted, passing through the Species Four delegates to stand between the one that had grabbed Ryrrk and the ambassador.

"Stop!" he shouted as he jolted back into phase, broadcasting that thought at the same time. "The vibrations…they reacted to the vibrations of your vocalization, Ryrrk. It hurt!"

She hissed. "I was attacked!"

"They thought you were attacking them!" Zed stared her in the face, swallowing his revulsion. To mask that reaction, he tried to broadcast waves of calm, hoping it would reassure Species Four. "Don't let it start and end like this, Ambassador. That's not why we're here."

Ryrrk narrowed her eyes. "We will not allow humanity to poison?—"

"I don't represent humanity, Ambassador."

"You are still human."

"I swear to you all, right now, that my only concern is ensuring that we are all able to effectively communicate." He held Ryrrk's gaze. "I do not want another war."

He knew it was a gambit that might fail, given the stin's love of conflict. But even they could not sustain another war, not so close to the end of the last one. Ryrrk glared at him, her gaze darting occasionally to the Species Four delegate who towered behind him, thankfully immobile.

"Agreed," she growled, finally, and rose out of her battle stance. Her guards relaxed as well.

"Let us adjourn to the conference area, shall we?" Oemmeth said. The ashushk ambassador gestured with a long-fingered hand toward the part of the cargo bay that had been set up for the meeting. Rather than take the risk of having an unknown species traipse through the ship, the ashushk had brought in furniture to create a makeshift conference area. The table was surrounded by spherical chairs that would conform to body shapes as required.

"Query."

"Yes?" Zed turned to the Species Four delegates.

"Safety?"

Zed kept his reply silent. "You are safe. No one around this table wants war."

A shudder seemed to work its way through the smallest Species Four. "No, no war." Concern still radiated from the alien and it took a moment for Zed's mind to interpret it correctly. "You? Are you safe?"

He could feel each of the Species Four delegates watching Ryrrk and her entourage as they preceded them into the conference area. Their thoughts and feelings were muted, but not so much that Zed didn't grasp their unease and distrust.

"Old hatred," he said. "Do not concern yourself."

The small delegate placed its hand on Zed's shoulder, almost like Elias or Felix would, and warmth flooded his senses. "Friend."

"I hope by the end of this, we'll all be friends."

"Yes. We, the ? —"

Zed's mind filled with images and concepts, which his brain scrambled to arrange in some sort of known pattern. Cohesion, unit, agreement, harmony.

Resonance.

"Resonance." He tested out the feeling of the name, layering it with the meanings they had provided. "Is that you?"

"Yes." The alien's pat might have brought a smaller man to his knees. "Good."

Well. Not every day you named a new species.

Without further discussion, the delegates of Species Four—the resonance—made their way to the table, the smallest settling carefully into one of the ashushk chairs.

"I am clear, I am calm," Zed muttered to himself, before stepping up to the table and his new role.