One, Item'qar Worker on board the Xlnfrag

One walked through the part of the engine deck that led to the hyperspace engine, his steps measured, his thoughts busy. Or rather, what passed for busy with an Item'qar Worker. He was quite painfully aware of his minds limitations, but while his brain and blue chitin might make it impossible for him to ever leave his caste, or even not to be thought of as inferior by the Leaders, Thinkers, and Warriors, he knew that there were things he could do that they couldn't. The Warriors, they were there to hunt and fight and kill, and the Thinkers were there to find new things for the Workers to build. He wasn't sure what the Leaders did, actually. Obviously they led, sure, but even with his low intelligence, he knew full well that evolution did not provide a caste that fit in with politics. Maybe the Thinkers knew, but they certainly weren't going to tell him. Just another Worker.

They knew, just like he did, that the Workers were what made the Item'qar capable of competing with the Sherim, and the Tarifel. They were slow, both in body and mind, but they were strong. A Worker could, on average, lift five times his weight. The higher castes could never have built their empires without them, neither the planetary ones in the old times, nor the one that existed now, the one they called the Confederacy. And they hated that fact.

One entered the hall, barely looking at the giant cube in the middle. He jumped from the path, the only straight line free of levers, switches, buttons and lights, into one of the circles. He pressed a button there, enabling the ship to send a message faster than the speed of light, then tilted his head. This was a new model of the hyperspace engine, and he didn't quite recall all the details yet. But he did remember that more measures needed to be taken as long as the ship was in a star system, or else the gravitational forces wouldn't allow any message to enter hyperspace. He didn't understand why that was the case, but that was what the Thinkers had told him, three hundred and twenty-two years ago, when they had discovered how to send messages through the void.

He jumped into another circle, and another, and another. There it was. He flicked a yellow switch, and the cube began to hum. He took a few moments to listen. It was always a different melody, usually slow, but today it was fast and high pitched. It sounded almost happy.

He didn't have time to stand around, though, so he jumped his way back onto the path, and then left the room. Another Worker, his last Thinker had called him Bilash, waited for him near the door.

"Where is the human?", he asked.

"Elizabeth Birch has been given permission to go onto the planet's surface", said One. "It was something that the humans' Leaders promised them when they sent them on this ship."

"I understand", said Bilash. "I have made a mistake then, Head Worker." His antennae lowered in shame and apology. "I assumed that Elizabeth Birch would be at his post in the engine room. Now that he is not, the schedule will need to be adapted." He hesitated, then said, grudgingly, "It will need to be adapted quickly, Head Worker"

One nodded, a gesture he had copied from Elizabeth. It included a vast amount of meanings, apparently. Understanding, agreement, obedience... It seemed that a nod could get you through every situation. This time, it was understanding. In emergencies, the workers required a Thinker to, well, think for them. Even he, smarter than most, possibly all other Workers, could not do such a thing as adapt the work schedules of the hundreds of Workers in the time necessary. "I will ask Thinker Asilish. He will most likely have time."

"I am sorry, Head Worker." Bilash's antennae hung so low that it seemed like they were about to fall off. One didn't care. Had the subordinate Worker not made a mistake, he would not need to be ashamed. He deserved his shame. That was how things were with Workers. It would have been inappropriate to comfort the other. Such behaviour invited sloppy work, and that invited death. So One walked away without another word, finding his way to the lifts that would get him out of the engine deck for the first time in months.

As he walked through the area designated to the Thinkers, he was met with the usual reactions: The younger ones looked at him with disdain, appalled with the presence of such a lowly creature as himself in their quarters, while those with more experience and wisdom ignored him. A Worker would not be in the Thinkers's area if it wasn't about something important, so there was no need to bother him, and if it had something to do with them, he would tell them himself. One didn't care about either reaction. He did what his assignment demanded, single-mindedly walking down the corridors until he reached the laboratory of Thinker Asilish.

He pressed the button on the door frame's right side, causing an audio signal to announce his presence to the Thinker. A few moments later, the door was opened remotely. One entered.

"... is someone at the door. How do you say? I apologise for the disturbance."

"No problem at all", said the mechanical voice of a translator. Thinker Asilish seemed to be conversing with a human.

The Worker waited by the door until the Thinker came around a corner. The laboratories were larger than ordinary cabins and usually included multiple rooms, not only for work and sleep, but also libraries, kitchens and the like. A Thinker was not supposed to have to leave his work.

Asilish barely even looked at One before asking "What do you want?"

"There has been a mistake, Thinker. The schedule needs to be adapted for the three humans on the engine deck that are currently on the planet's surface."

"You are the Head Worker, aren't you? There's not a lot of Head Workers. Shouldn't you be able to that yourself?"

"They are missing from vital positions."

"Just divert people from the less vital positions."

"Thinker, no positions on the engine deck are not vital. Everyone diverted must be replaced. Will be close. No position non-vital, but some can be undermanned for short time. Can't calculate fast enough."

Thinker Asilish sighed. "Fine. Give me access to the schedule" They both took out their interfaces that connected them to the ship's computer, and One entered the necessary code to give the Thinker permission to change the schedule.

"This will take a moment", said Asilish. One said nothing.

"Hey, who's that?", asked a translated voice. The human to which Asilish had been talking had come around the corner. Again, One said nothing. Workers were not allowed to talk unless given permission or required to for their work while in the Thinkers' area.

"That is a Worker. He'll be gone in a minute", answered the Thinker. "Mr Fluss, I believe I asked you to stay at the table."

"Yup. I got bored though. So I walked around. Don't worry Thinker, I didn't touch anything."

"Nothing in this laboratory is a running experiment, nor is anything in here dangerous. I do not care whether or not you touch anything"

"I'm just saying I am not being careless in your home"

"This is a laboratory. The fact that I also sleep in here does not make it my home."

"For [no translation]'s sake, Asilish!"

The human took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "So who're you then?", he asked One.

One said nothing.

"He's a Worker."

"Is he mute?"

"He's not allowed to talk unless given permission"

The human's upper head wrinkled. It looked disturbing. "That's kind of disturbing", he said.

One said nothing.

The Thinker's antennae twitched in annoyance. "Fine. Worker, I give you permission to talk", he said, "Just do it here while I'll fix your schedule in the other room!". Asilish walked around the corner.

"So. A Worker, huh?"

"Yes."

"Where do you work?"

"Engine room."

The human sighed. One knew that Elizabeth did that whenever she was annoyed with him for not conversing the way humans did. She'd tried to hide it, but after a few days, it had become obvious.

"What do you do in the engine room?"

"I am the Head Worker. I assign Workers to their positions." One hesitated. "Usually. A few days ago, I assigned the task of assigning tasks to someone. He made a mistake. That is why I have to ask Thinker Ailish to remake the schedule."

"So basically", the human said, baring his teeth, "You've assigned the task of assigning tasks to the Thinker?"

"NO!", One hurried to say. "I would never presume. I can not. I ask, nothing more! Thinker decides to help on his own!" Fear rose in his stomach. Asilish was not known to hate Workers, but he'd had friends taken to the mining colonies for less.

The translator, however, didn't seem to carry his fear to the human, who remained completely relaxed. "Alright", he said, "So he's what, your supervisor?"

"No", said Asilish, coming back from the laboratory. "The Head Worker doesn't have a supervisor. He is the supervisor." He pressed a spot on the screen of his interface, and One's own device gave a signal. "All done."

One nodded, turned around on the spot.

"Hey, come on", he heard the human call out to him. "We were having a conversation!"

"First of all, that wasn't a conversation by anyone's standards", said Asilish, barely audible over the growing distance, "and second of all, he's a Worker. What would you converse with him about anyway?"

One didn't mind. He was older than the both of them combined. At some point, you just got used to being considered unworthy of words that weren't orders. Not that he minded it much, though. Orders were simple. They could be followed. Discussions were complex. He was no Thinker, not even a Warrior. He'd take too long to find an answer to most questions anyway.

He walked back to the lifts, going down to the engine deck. While the lift moved, he looked at the schedule. Asilish had had permission to change the schedule, but not to make it an order. Usually, the Thinker in charge would have done that, but One was Head Worker. There was no Thinker in charge. He checked if every assignment made sense, which took much less time than having to calculate it on his own, then validated the schedule. When the doors opened and he entered the engine deck, Workers were already changing their stations. Bilash passed him on the corridor, and One signalled him to stop.

"Thinker Asilish corrected mistake. Did not find it necessary to punish either one of us. If something like this happens again, I will demote you."

"Yes, Head Worker."

"You have new task. I need blueprints of sublight engine. You make them. You give to human Elizabeth Birch"

Bilash nodded. "He will not take them. Doesn't want us to get trouble. He is kind."

"Yes. He is also called she", answered One.

Bilash was confused. "I did not see any human hatchlings around. I did not know. Are you sure?"

"Humans are not like us. They have genders."

"What is that?"

"Uh... They are like Sherim, I mean."

"Oh." Bilash scratched his throat with his antennae. "That seems unnecessarily complicated."

"I am sure it is."

"I will think of it the next time I talk to... her. Thank you, Head Worker.", he said, and turned to leave.

One hesitated for a moment, oddly nervous. Then he said "My name is One"

The other worker froze, then turned around. His antennae twitching with uncertainty.

"Thank you, Head Worker One", he said and walked away.

Daniel Sylber, Soldier with the German Federal Defence Forces

Life was good. He could not say it any differently. Life was fucking great. Here he was, walking on a planet some two hundred light years away from Earth, and even though the atmosphere wasn't breathable, the sun was too warm for his preferences, and he had to play the babysitter for some weird and slightly arrogant bug monster, life was good. Couldn't possibly be better, in fact. Gods, how he loved living.

Daniel climbed up a rocky hill, his rifle on his back, and a bag hanging from his side. The suits that all the humans wore to protect them from the chlorine (hence the gas masks) and the alien bacteria that would easily kill every last one of them due to their underdeveloped immune systems (hence the rest of the suit) had been built by the Item'qar, who simply didn't seem to understand the concept of pockets, so he had to carry all the little tools that he would usually have in those in said bag.

He turned around to help Joan up the last bit. She was relatively fit, of course, knowing more about healthy lifestyles than most people, but there was simply a limit to how much time she had for physical exercise. For him, obviously, it was part of his job.

Around him, human soldiers and Item'qar Warriors walked through the forest they had entered a good half hour ago. There was a heavy mist making it impossible to see further than about twenty, twenty-five meters, but he didn't mind. Every now and then, the clouds would reveal Aldous, which was what he had called the planet's sun, and it would illuminate the trees in the mist, creating one of nature's greatest works of beauty. The trees, at least they thought they were trees, were thick and not very tall, only about four meters. They did not have any leaves, but on their top ends grew bushels of strings that reminded Daniel of algae. These strings were of a dark green, but the trees were, for some reason, of a light blue. He would have to ask Joan about it at a later time. She knew that sort of thing, probably. And if she didn't, he could ask the Thinker.

The thought did not resonate well with his "life is good" mood. Thinker Chx was an arrogant creature, bossing around humans and Item'qar alike. Thinkers, at the current time, had a higher standing with the Leaders than the Warriors did, so by order of the highest caste, they possessed superior rights. But there was authority, and there was just plain being a cunt. His sister, who had had her experience with people in positions of power, due to her work, had once told him that it was worse with those who didn't really earn their authority but got it handed to them. He wondered what that meant for him. They had given him his rank after Cardiff, and then had offered to promote him further after London. He had declined, of course. This joint mission had already been in planning, and he had known that there was only so high a rank one could be and still be sent onto the journey. How else would you ensure that the humans follow the commands of the Item'qar authorities on board? High ranking officers tended to be a bit more... self confident. So when the time came that the German government had to pick who went onto the journey, his superiors had felt like they still had to give him something since he had still been a captain. Gods, how he loved it when things worked out as planned. Well, not quite as planned, but close enough.

He looked at the twenty human soldiers around them. He had chosen each and every last one of them because their files showed them to be capable bodyguards. For all he cared, Chx could just die if something should happen, though of course he'd follow his orders and do his best to protect the Thinker. But the bug had brought Joan along, and he would not see her hurt. He had taken them from all three participating nations, too. A good leader, after all, didn't care about his people's nationality. Or gender. Or faith, race, sexuality... none of it mattered, so long as they obeyed unquestioningly. Daniel sent a short, silent thought of thanks to his granduncle for teaching him so well, briefly wondering if the old man was still alive. The Sylber family didn't tend to live much longer than their fifties, since almost all of them got cancer. Friedrich was not the first exception, but the only one that Daniel had known. Even his father had had cancer when he had died so long ago, and he had only been forty-two years old at the time.

Well, to be honest, as far as protection went: He had brought nineteen of the twenty soldiers along for that reason. Birch, while definitely a highly capable fighter, was there because he found it funny. He had no idea if the Lieutenant was actually gay, but he had planted the idea into Joan's head, and it was just too good to hear that tiny nervous pitch in her voice whenever Elizabeth was around. A shame they all had to wear the gas masks, since it was nearly impossible to hear it properly through the damn thing.

But, in spite of that inconvenience, life was good. Who cared about such little things? He took another step through the ankle-high grass, also slightly bluish, and another, concentrating on the gravitational force pulling him down. He wasn't sure, but he thought that they were a bit stronger than on earth, but perhaps that was just because he had gotten used to the Xlnfrag's low gravity of zero point seven g. The bugs' home world, Ite'sheshyn, was much smaller than his own, part of the reason why they seemed to be significantly weaker than the humans, at least in physical terms: In spite of resembling Earth's insects, the Item'qar would barely be able to carry their own weight on Earth.

He could see something new now: The mist was thinning, and there was a small lake just about a hundred meters or so away from him, and about the same length in diameter. It was almost round, but on the opposite shore the land cut into the water for a few steps. The water, and it was water, or at least it was a perfectly water-like substance from the looks of it, was clear, and the wind created waves on it.

As Joan and Thinker Chx went on to make their tests, Daniel looked around to see if there was any one of the human soldiers that showed signs of exhaustion. It wasn't as easy to see as it would have been had the masks not covered everyone's faces, but he paid attention to the way they stood, the way they walked, and he walked around, listening to their breathing. The humans seemed fine, but not quite as well as the Thinker and Joan, since they had carried the scientists' equipment. Birch was the most exhausted, but that was to be expected, he assumed. She was the smallest of them all, and a woman. The difference in physical strength was noticeable. But she, too, looked like she could keep going. The real problem were the Item'qar. Huxley's gravity was higher than even that of Earth, so it was even worse for the bugs. Their antennae hung low, and he could hear them gasping for air whenever they thought no one was listening. Admirable, in a way, that attempt not to show weakness. But also stupid. Mostly stupid. It was a matter of pride to them, he thought, that they would not be considered weaker than the primitive humans. How odd. Their intelligence was so much higher than that of humans that they would easily win any war between the two races. Why bother hiding the fact that they just were not used to high gravity? Sure, there would be war, at some point, but right now, they were all on the same side. If they kept going like this, the Item'qar would be too exhausted to fight whatever this planet might throw at them, thus endangering Thinker Chx and, much worse, Joan.

"We're going to take a break here", he announced. The Warriors and the soldiers alike stopped and sat down where they stood. The aliens weren't usually into sitting, but they were clearly near the end of their strength. Immediately, he ordered five humans to stand up again. "You have watch for now.