"As you can see, the queen is the central hub of all proceedings for any hive. She determines what drones will perform what activities, where the hive gathers it resources, when it expands its territory and when to invade the territory of other species."
Mezoti walked slowly back and forth across the screen, keeping the attention of her students focused on what she was saying by remaining an active target to the eye, but not moving enough so as to distract them from the presentation on-screen. On the large projector, a column of Rysanti ants swarmed over a smaller colony of beetles, overwhelming the larger insects through sheer numbers
"Any given hive of the ants is capable of spreading over half a square kilometre before communications between the various branches and the queen begins to break down. This is because the ants have adapted to use various scents in various combinations in order to transfer information to and from the queen. This adaptation is perfectly suited to the windy plains of Rysanti, and allows for near instantaneous communication between the edges and the centre of the hive. The queen can direct her drones to change from workers and scavengers into warriors at the first sign of trouble."
Mezoti walked up to a terrarium sitting a top her desk, picking up a pressure spray and flicking a switch to change the display on the projection screen from taped scenes of Rysanti ants to a live feed of the terrarium full of them.
"But a strength can also be a weakness, as some of the other Rysanti insects discovered. They discovered that another, more powerful scent could override those produced by the queen and drones."
Mezoti lifted the cover of the terrarium and activated the pressure spray. A fine mist shot out of the nozzle, dissipating into the terrarium. On the projection screen, the students saw the highly organized efforts of the ants degenerate into a confused jumble.
"Without the queen to guide them, the ants become incapable of acting in concert – making them easy prey for mantises and the like."
"Your attention please," a melodious voice came over the lyceum's communications system. "Classes for the day are now finished."
Mezoti looked at the ceiling in surprise, not having realised that it was already so late. As her students rose to their feet, she called out: "Remember to read the section on parasites before the next cycle!"
The room quickly emptied, the students eager to get to their own homes or wherever they would associate with friends. Soon, Mezoti was alone to pack up her own books and notes, heading out into the lyceum's hallways, which were getting less crowded with every minute. As she was walking down the corridor, she suddenly found herself accosted by a Wysanti man carrying a bouquet of flowers.
"Madam," he said with exaggerated formality, "I'm here with the Wysanti Entomologists Association who wish to give you this set of uncommon pollinating bees–". He broke off, making a show of looking at the flowers and gasping in shock. "Why, they're not in here anymore! I guess they must have flown away." A mischievous grin broke across his face. "Which means all I have for you are these flowers."
Mezoti returned the grin, taking the flowers. "Hello, Taré. I thought you only got back tonight."
"The conference ended early, thank the gods. No-one should have to suffer through such tedium." Taré put his hand to his chest and adopted a melodramatic poise. "Oh, the pain of having to see a work of art – the child of the soul – taken apart bit by bit to be analysed and deconstructed, it's very essence and mystery diffused by words that could never presume to 'categorize' its glory."
Mezoti chuckled. Taré always managed to make her smile.
"But what about you, my lovely insect maiden?"
"Oh, same old routine."
Usually this would prompt another patented Taré speech against the ordinary, but this time he stopped walking and looked at her, concerned.
"You look tired, Mezoti."
"I just haven't been sleeping too well of late, that's all."
Taré grinned suggestively. "Well, that's because you didn't have your good-luck Taré charm with you. A situation that can be easily rectified."
Mezoti shook her head, the good humour he'd instilled fading rapidly. "I think it would better if you spent the night at your place, Taré."
"My place? I haven't been there in five days, and it seemed too dry and antiseptic when I got home."
"You mean that for once, your habitat was actually clean and picked up and didn't have a bunch of sculpting tools lying around underfoot," Mezoti retorted pleasantly.
"Exactly! How can an artist work if he is not surrounded by his craft and inspirations?"
Mezoti rolled her eyes in mock-exasperation. Taré was so unlike her – impulsive, philosophical, creative and disorganized in his own adorable way – that she sometimes wondered what it was he saw in a staunch, meticulous academic like her. Still, she was glad he around. Sometimes her life was too mechanical – a legacy of her time with the Borg – and that's something she wanted to avoid even if she didn't realize that she had fallen into a routine. Taré was a perfect counterbalance. Mezoti liked to think that they complimented each other.
"Taré, you always complain about how my habitat is too sterile for you." She shielded her eyes against the sunlight as they emerged from the hallways and onto the lyceum's grounds.
"Well, I know of several ways to make it more exciting."
The offer was appealing, but Mezoti shook her head again. How could she explain to someone that she didn't want to be with him because of nightmares? How could she rationalize this urge she'd been experiencing of late, an overwhelming desire to be alone?
"Sorry, Taré. But I've got a veritable mound of essays to correct, and I want to turn in early so I can actually get some sleep."
"Well, alright then. See you tomorrow, for lunch?"
"Where?"
"It'll be a surprise," Taré said, smiling.
Mezoti chuckled and turned away from him. No more than five steps away, she spotted two men in the purple uniforms of Wysanti Military heading in the opposite direction. This was not a common sight, and Mezoti stared at them openly, her insatiable curiosity piqued. One of them looked straight at her, then tapped his partner on the shoulder and pointed. With a quick hand gesture, they indicated that she should stop where she was.
Once the two officers had reached her height, the one who appeared to be in charge said: "You are Honoured Teacher Mezoti."
It was a statement, not a question. Aliens weren't all that common on Wysanti, and she knew that her Norcadian heritage would be a dead give-away to anybody seeking to identify her. Nonetheless, she responded an affirmative "yes".
"We'd like you to come with us, if you please."
"What for?"
"That will be explained to you once you get there."
"Now wait a second," Taré said, suddenly at her side. He must have seen the officers stop her. "You can't just arrest her without telling her why."
The lead officer shook his head. "You're not under arrest. Admiral Sizm himself has requested your presence at Military HQ. He wishes to be able to consult with you regarding a matter of your expertise."
"My expertise? Is Military having a bug problem?"
"I'm afraid I'm not privy to any of the details, Honoured Teacher. Will you come with us?"
"I suppose."
"Hey, can I come along?" Taré asked. Mezoti was glad that he asked. No matter what she'd been thinking before, being alone didn't seem all that great anymore.
The Military officers glanced at each other. "The other one had his wife with him," the younger one said.
The elder glanced at Mezoti, who nodded her consent. "Alright then. Our craft is parked not to far from here. If you'll just follow us…"