The conversations between old friends seemed lighthearted, but in reality, nearly half a great cycle had passed from the moment Evelyn hinted at Sarkdi preparing for high-level talks to the finalization of the arrangements.
These negotiations were of paramount importance, destined to fundamentally alter the future relationship between the two races. No amount of caution was excessive. Furthermore, there was the lingering issue of the Federation remnants stranded on Camlann.
In resolving this legacy problem, the current Emperor had indeed shown ample sincerity and meticulousness.
The Secretary himself had personally traveled to Camlann three times to negotiate—or rather, to consult—with the humans living there. After twenty years of isolation, this sector of space was once again recognized by the Empire. The ghostly settlements floating in the void were granted a legal status that allowed them to travel freely to other planets.
In fact, during the initial contact, most of the remaining garrison expressed relative loathing and resistance toward Imperial officials. They hailed from the Federation; their stable lives had ended the moment the Empire rose. Too many lost relatives and friends acted like ghosts of the past, dragging the living back into the shadows.
Arthur had to mediate. The Grey-wing tribe had for years supplied the energy stones required to maintain Camlann’s facilities and the remnants of the Model, even including the highest grade of stellar core energy. This gave his words significant weight.
Klein was also a patient man, not one to take offense at being treated coldly. Having served as the right hand to two successive Emperors for a long time, he had handled far too many difficult ministers. The once rigid man had made great strides in the art of quietly neutralizing troublemakers.
The Secretary’s hair was slightly graying, making him look more composed than his actual age suggested. Perhaps because that sector of space involved too many stories from the past, he had rejected all proposals to send other diplomats, choosing instead to personally visit the graveyard of stars every time.
“You still enjoy independent autonomy; we respect Camlann’s current system.”
“However, the Empire needs to provide a place where you can return at any time.”
Once everything was nearly settled, Klein finally felt relaxed enough to sit down and have tea with the other party of the negotiation.
For nearly half a year, he had been dealing almost exclusively with this young man named Arthur Clark. Upon their first meeting, he had been surprised that a youth barely twenty years old already possessed the faint aura of a leader, his words and actions nearly flawless most of the time.
“It would be wonderful if you were willing to serve in the Empire,” the man sighed with genuine sincerity, not looking down on his interlocutor despite the youth being less than half his age. “I truly hope we don’t have to meet across a negotiation table again.”
The report Red Tai-sui had brought back initially contained a brief summary of this young man’s information. He had a Sub-King foster father from a Core-gene tribe and held the status of a Federation remnant while being fluent in several languages. Like the founder of Rome raised by wolves, he was a rare and precious talent—a miracle that others could not replicate.
“I think that possibility is slim. In the near future, we will likely sit on opposite sides of the negotiation table once more.” The young man’s gentle blue eyes held a trace of regret. “You see, we have both worked hard to extinguish the eternal fires of rage in the graveyard of stars and to have the Empire establish the human-Zerg trade zone on Camlann. So next time, I will have to stand in for my partner to secure a relatively substantial benefit for the trade zone and the Grey-wing tribe.”
Klein: “???”
The old-fashioned Secretary froze for a moment, assuming the youth was referring to someone among the Camlann garrison. He held his teacup, stirring the yet-to-dissolve sugar cube. “You have a partner? My apologies, I was entirely unaware. If there is an opportunity later, please allow me to pay a visit.”
“You needn’t apologize for that.” Noticing that the other man didn’t quite like the bitterness of the tea, the youth pushed the saucer with sugar and milk toward him, joking in a comfortable, relaxed atmosphere. “And don’t be so formal. We’re just chatting; there’s no need to follow such strict social etiquette at a time like this. As for my partner...” Those lake-blue eyes blinked with a hint of a smile. “You will meet him next time. I will certainly introduce you then.”
“I look forward to it.”
The sincere and serious man had no idea what kind of shock awaited him in the future.
***
“You’re pursuing a partner, not losing your brain!”
Before even entering the nest hall, Sarkdi heard the roar of the Armored-species leader, causing him to arch an eyebrow.
“What were you thinking?! Perching on a male’s wall at night and scaring him half to death, then drawing the street patrol? I could hardly believe it when I received the notice from the patrol department!”
Kleiman was hissing with rage, his tail lashing back and forth with loud, rhythmic thuds.
The other Armored-species being scolded looked small, pitiful, and helpless, his robust physique shrinking in the presence of a higher-ranking female.
The black Core-species recognized him at a glance. The one being scolded was the young Grey-wing who had once warned of structural changes in the Angon underground among the Mandible-species. Both sides were old acquaintances... old bugs.
“I wanted... wanted to give him a sur-surprise.” Stuttering in his defense, the newly matured female’s tail was tucked against his legs. “I thought switching shifts early to return to the habitat a day sooner than I told him would be a happy surprise. I even prepared a gift... I asked Sa-Male what things he likes. I studied hard, it wasn’t harassment!”
The last sentence was shouted with full vigor. It was clear the youth had summoned every ounce of his courage, making the Core-species’ head ring.
“...”
A random boomerang had somehow hit him in the head. Sarkdi began to reflect on how he had been caught in the crossfire. Then he remembered that the impulsive young Grey-wing had indeed pestered him for a while, shyly asking how to please a partner.
The stability of his and Gera’s relationship had caused the circle of perpetual bachelors around them to feel more or less envious, indirectly accelerating the rate at which the Armored-species were seeking partners.
However, the Zerg, who by nature viewed reproduction and the continuation of the tribe as the highest priority, had unexpectedly reached a conclusion after a period of observation: the Grey-wing larvae hatched recently—and perhaps some hybrid cubs from unions with Mandible or Broad-wing males—were far superior in health and genetic grade compared to before.
To this end, Gera had specifically held discussions with the technical bugs.
“So, a male’s health and mood directly affect the quality of the eggs—meaning the emotional aspect, which many bugs previously considered irrelevant, has its own unique value.” Thoughtfully recording data on a light screen, the white bug was constantly revising the management regulations he was perfecting. “Most former Queens used a parasitic mode to lay eggs in bulk, so this research never existed in the records. But now that males are responsible for hatching the young, I believe the basic safety of the gestators should be guaranteed.”
The Master of the Great Information Nest was a fast learner. ‘Administrator’ and ‘Master’ sounded very similar, but they were fundamentally different in nature. A Nest could have many administrators, but only an existence that unlocked all permissions and undertook the deep mental link was qualified to be called the Master.
The white bug’s presence was felt in basically all arrangements regarding the defeated habitats. He no longer hid it, pulling out the chair of power and sitting down calmly.
The first batch of males sent to incorporate the planets had returned after completing their work, and another batch had already departed to take over their functions. These bugs, who were still somewhat timid, often showed trepidation and unease upon departure, but by the time they returned from the front lines, their personalities had all undergone a very obvious change.
And the young female currently being scolded by Kleiman had fallen for one of those males who had previously lost a partner. He had been dancing attendance on him for quite a while, only to mess up spectacularly just as the other’s attitude began to soften.
Strictly speaking, the victim who called the police in the middle of the night was the very first male whose door had been smashed open when the Armored-species leader and Gera were taking turns visiting families in need of help. The bug had stumbled out of his nest half-asleep, only to see a fellow perched on his wall saying ‘hi,’ and had screamed on the spot.
What a terrifying image, what an absurd courtship—the surprise had instantly become a shock. The arriving patrol team had swiftly hauled down the unlucky fellow who ‘had a great idea’ and handed him directly over to Kleiman.
The Armored-species leader looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. His dark grey wings rubbed together behind him as the prime-age female abandoned the elegant language that signified his Core-gene status, instead using emotional language to deliver a blistering lecture.
Sarkdi had originally intended to find the ‘Tail-Lasher’ to finalize the travel list one last time. With the talks imminent, they had to put security work on the agenda. If something went wrong during the first contact, there would be no future for this cooperation.
As luck would have it, he had stumbled upon the scene of the other’s outburst. The Core-species immediately and smoothly retracted his step. He didn’t necessarily have to talk right now.
Kleiman was already on the right track; Sarkdi no longer needed to constantly suppress him to prevent the immature bug from making bizarre moves. Learning to delegate was a lifelong lesson for every ruler. The Armored-species leader had to establish his own credibility and majesty rather than being repeatedly interrupted. Over-interfering in different departments would cause further jurisdictional chaos.
The dark grey female needed to handle all matters that didn't require escalating to him and Clark himself.
Thus, having naturally found an excuse for a break, the black female turned around on the spot and strolled toward the residential nest area.
The Flash-pattern and Mandible species were getting anxious. The two tribes, which had been pushing and pulling in a limit-testing tug-of-war, immediately showed signs of softening their stance after catching wind of the news that the Grey-wings were about to enter long-term cooperation with the humans. Other tribes, sensing the change in the wind, were also growing restless. A Core-gene tribe had proposed a collective meeting to “properly discuss the future development direction of the Zerg.”
Sarkdi and the Sub-King, who now held the initiative, did not respond immediately. They were waiting for the others to raise their stakes.
It wouldn't be that simple to take a share of the cooperation with humans from his hands. Pressing other bugs to bow after securing the home-field advantage was called recruiting franchisees; conversely, if everyone started the venture together from the beginning, the other bugs would all become partners.
Sarkdi didn't want that many partners. Money had to be made, but no bug was going to fleece him.
When the female returned home and pushed open the door, he saw his pure white partner humming a song in soft emotional language while pruning a potted plant.
When the Core-species had previously visited the Flash-pattern habitat, he had obtained some plant seeds. He had carefully brought back the flower seeds from the other’s homeland, planted them in a pot, and they had finally sprouted.
Gera liked this unremarkable greenery very much. In the beginning, he often lay by the edge of the pot to observe the growth of the leaves and stems.
During his conversations with that unpleasant Flash-pattern Sub-King, Sarkdi had obtained more information regarding Roxanne’s kin. But he wasn't sure if he should say it out loud, so he remained silent for the time being, waiting for a more appropriate moment.
The male, hearing the movement, had already turned around.
“You’re back!” Putting down the pruning tools, the other dove into his embrace, his tail wagging rapidly. It was clear that Gera was quite happy.
“I have big news to tell you!” the other said mysteriously.
***
