Matriarchal Duty (Sample)

Matriarchal Duty
By NicanorJourney

Ambassador Trispenii anxiously wove a turquoise antenna through her mandibles as she waited for a service pod to arrive.  It hadn’t even been an hour –by the human clock- since she’d woken from her reprise and already she was up to her thorax in litigation, trade disputes, compensation requests, and other grievances from the ten colonies that fell under her jurisdiction.  Niiskoh –an orange chitined male- accompanied her as he had every morning for the past quarter.  He was the hardest working aid in the matriarch’s office having been placed in charge of human relations.  When Trispenii woke from her reprise he’d be waiting outside her chambers ready to read off the human explorer’s latest exploits as they worked their way towards the central processing facility.  If not for the male’s pleasant voice - which rang like shell bells – the matriarch would have found this morning ritual insufferable.  

“The humans on Foreman-3 are requesting additional supplies.  They report that their environmental systems are failing to take hold and that additional respirators are required for personnel.”

Trespenii’s antenna sprung up from her mandibles in irritation; her wings buzzed against her back.  This was the fourth emergency request from the newly established human colony in just as many months.  If you’re going to settle a planet with a poisonous atmosphere perhaps you should have thought about the number of respirators before you left your homeworld’s atmosphere.

After a moment of deliberation the matriarch shrugged her lower arms. “Tell them a courier shuttle shall be dispatched.”  When she’d finished speaking, Trispenii waved her arm as if to push the thought of the human colony away from her mind.  Last week it had been the fuel shortage on New Carthage, and the month before that was the plague on Ambrosia.  

She shook her head from side-to-side as she moved her second antenna through her mouthparts.  Humans.  They never look before they leap…Especially when profits are concerned.  Of course, while a pain in her neck plate, she recognized the benefits of such tenacity.  Humans had an insatiable desire for exploration.  No sooner had they established one research colony they’d be off searching for new worlds to seed.  By comparison, zenthrope explorers chose to establish permanent settlements before discussing future plan.  While Trespenii didn’t agree with the practice, it was undeniable that the human method had proven invaluable to the Zenthropi Coalition.  

Her assistant raised his head from his datascreen.  

“Shall I arrange a meeting with the Foreman Corporation to discuss proper colonization protocol?”  

“Gracious Mother, no!”  Trespenii’s antennae spun in abject horror.  Holy Matriarch, spare me the trials of human business politics.  “I'm already scheduled to meet with representative Hambilton Just send a report to their Colonization Safety Committee.”  

“Yes, Matriarch.”  

The translucent green transport pot arrived and the zenthropi entered.  Trespenii took a seat on one of the sloping chair designed to accommodate a zenthrope’s bulbous abdomen.  In her lifetime the Matriarch had laid some 3,000 eggs before retiring from the gene bank (an exceptional record even by the insectoid’s standards).  As a result her abdomen was markedly more rounded than most and for whatever reason it always ached in the morning.  The physicians told her it was likely the result of stress.  

Ec’tar! It’s the fault of 100 respirators needed on Foreman-3.

A yellow light flashed as the transport pod’s entrance sealed. Her assistant took hold of a grip on the wall.  Soon the pod was propelled down the antigravity track.  Trespenii’s zigzag shaped pupils –a genetic trait of the Homeworld’s Eastern continent- looked out over the bulbous subterranean structures that created the heart of Teshkira; Capital of the Verila Sector.  The first colony to combine Zenthrope, Human, Trelic, and Skir communities.

“Matriarch?”

Trespenii turned toward her assistant.  Niiskoh’s expression was one of inquiry – “many pardons, but why do we allow the humans to take such risks?  The Mother said it’s the duty of the strong to protect the weak.”    

Trespenii perked her antennae.  “You call into question my knowledge of Her Song?”  

He waggled his antennae; of course not.  “I’d never question a Matriarch on matters concerning Her Song.  I only ask if it seems amicable that we apply Her laws to our allies; to protect the weak from the negligence of the strong.”  

Matriarch Trespenii examined the male.  He had straight posture, the perfect acute angle which his arm rested against the wall of the transport; how he held his abdomen straight— it was almost befitting of a Matriarch.  He was the kind of male she’d wished for during her breeding days.  A kind that hadn’t existed.  

Niiskoh was part of that new generation of Zenthropi male; ever eager to serve.  Males hadn’t been that way when she was a nymph.  Back then the idea of a male serving in intergalactic politics was unheard of.  But, with the coalition’s rapid expansion over the past 200 years the male zenthropi had managed to work their way out of the workforce and into more engaging professions. Trespenii wondered if it had been the introduction of human society to their intergalactic community that had spurred this new wave of independent zenthropi males, but quickly dismissed it.  Whatever the reason, it was nice to have assistants she knew weren’t secretly vying for her position.  Trespenii remembered all too well the cloak and dagger tactics required to become a Matriarch; to earn the right to breed.    

“Matriarch?”  The assistant asked again.  Trespenii looked up to see Niiskoh displaying an expression of concern.  “Have I upset you?”  

“No.  I was merely pondering your question,” she lied.  No need for the young male to know his Matriarch’s mind was beginning to slow.  She hurriedly ran through the Mother’s Song for an appropriate response.  

“Our Holy Mother preached that it was in the best interest of Her Hive to look after every mother, nymph, and drone; to value all zenthropi life.”  Trespenii gave a gesture of holy reverence, flickering her antenna and tilting her mandibles.  “She made it clear that it was Zenthropi life that was sacred.  On livestock Her message was one of reverence. ‘Pity those incapable of self-reliance, but do not nest among them.’”

Niiskoh’s antennae perked in confusion.  The new generation was an inquisitive brood.  
“You are suggesting the humans and the other races we’ve forged communion with are livestock?”

“Nothing so crude.”  One didn’t reach Trespenii’s position without some degree of tact.  “I am merely stating that humans have their ways and we have ours.  We assisted them in joining our intergalactic community, but that doesn’t mean we should impose our beliefs on them.”  

Trespenii’s mandibles tilted upward into a sort of smile.  “Just so long as they remember who monitors this sector.”