First Contact

Chapter 268: (P'Thok Smokes a Pack)

Chapter 268: (P'Thok Smokes a Pack)

The small trader only weighed a handful of megatons, with the standard sextant of jump-drives in the rear section, vast cargo holds (for its size), and a bridge and crew quarters jammed into the nose. It was of Terran make, its transponder squeaking a Terran code, and its drive signatures were on file as being from an older space trading corporation. While it was unusual to see civilian vessels this close to Treana'ad Space, it wasn't unheard of, since war zones could bring profit to the daring. The vessel looked a little weird, and the computer control was hard to understand, but the station chalked it up to the vessel's age and upkeep.

The space station control gave permission for the small craft to dock at one of the main umbilicals and relaxed. There wasn't anything to worry about. It did pause for a moment, the computer system claiming it had to reorient, that a hiccup made it slightly confused on the precise maneuvering required to dock.

That wasn't unusual, traders, even Terran traders, weren't exactly known for their upkeep, so the station wasn't worried as the trader paused, slowly rolling then turning in space to reorient itself on the stellar mass at the center of the system.

P'Thok was a warrior caste Treana'ad of some experience. He had infiltrated Terra-Sol itself and pulled off a daring daylight heist of an armored transport on a Terran rim world, even taken part in two successful military campaigns against the Terrans.

Which is why he had no fear as he engaged the thrusters of his exo-pack, oriented himself, and jetted toward the space station. He had practiced in virtual reality until he no longer felt fear at the idea of drifting across nearly ten miles of vacuum, aiming for a small point on the space station.

It helped that the Matron aboard the craft, who was overseeing the delicate military operation, code named 'I'll Take That', had flooded the warrior's senses with pheromones to instill courage and remove fear.

Still, P'Thok was the only Treana'ad warrior of the ten man assault force not to feel fear. After all, he had escaped a pursuit by literally dozens of Terran larvae during his daring heist two years before, why would he fear a space-walk.

Time moved slowly as P'Thok, clad in stealth armor, coasted toward the station. His bladearms were sharp and honed, his hands gripped a well maintained plasma rifle, and his armored vac-suit was capable of shrugging all but military grade Terran weapons. He had faith in his stealth equipment, after all, it had worked for him to land on Terra itself.

Eventually he reached the space station, throwing out a magnetic grapple on a plas cable. IT only took two tries for him to latch it and he reeled himself in, his squad mates following him. When they landed they activated the magnetic boots and moves slowly across the surface of the station toward their goal. While graviton boots would have been more reliable and easier to use they might have been detected by the stations graviton sensors, the same reason the exo-packs had used compressed atmosphere rather than graviton.

P'Thok reached the target first. A hyper-comm relay, which could be used to alert any nearby military forces to the fact the Treana'ad had arrived to take control of the station. P'Thok carefully opened the relay's control panel and moved aside for D'Rok to disable the hypercom's output mechanism while still allowing incoming transmissions.

Once that was done, the group moved through the silence of space to the next target. Although they all felt nervous, keeping an eye on their atmosphere, they quickly disabled all eight of the automated weapons emplacements, simply cutting the command lines, that way they would react to diagnostic requests and show green but were unable to actually be used for defending the station.

That left one target.

The most important.

Once they had arrived at the target, P'Thok faced the ship and flashed his suit lights four times, letting the ship know that it could stop with the masquerade and dock. The ship flashed its lights once and reoriented to make dock at the docking spindle.

P'Thok entered the airlock with his squad and cycled it, the system already disabled so that the main computer would have no idea the airlock was being used.

The nitrogen was low, almost non-existent, and P'Thok shook his head. His men would have to remain suited, but that was expected. He made motioned, reminding his men not to use radio, and led his two subordinates toward his goal while the other two leaders led their teams toward their objectives.

The station had no idea that P'Thok was even on board. The first hint that Harry Dendles had was when the door opened and the huge armored insectiod stepped into the control office and threw a stun grenade. The Treana'ad didn't move through executing everyone, instead used heavy cargo straps to tie the humans down.

"Which one of you is the station commander?" P'Thok asked, trusting his translator.

"Me," Harry said from the floor, where he'd been virtually mummy wrapped by the Treana'ad, who were taking no chances with the legendary primate strength.

"Bring him," P'Thok ordered.

"Can I ask where?" Harry asked, visions of being roasted over a fire and eaten dancing in his mind.

"I have questions to ask you," P'Thok asked. Personally, he was glad he was in armor. He could see the status of the other members of his squad and see that their stress pheromones were high.

The Matron's blessing must be wearing off. He changed channels to talk to his men. "Flush your pheromones, I don't want you to become overly anxious or aggressive," P'Thok ordered. Each one flashed an assent over their armor and he watched as their anxiety levels dropped.

Being trapped with one's own pheromones could cause problems.

His armor suddenly updated with a map of the station and P'Thok knew that D'Rok had managed to hack into the station's computer core. He led the human to his own office as his two men carried the properly trussed up human. Once inside he motioned at his two men to put the human in his chair.

At first the bindings posed a problem, as the human was stuck at full body extension. Since the straps were wound all around his body, unwinding the ones around his waist meant undoing some of the windings around his arms or legs. After a moment K'Lana'at looked up.

"Um, sir, we can't undo the straps," the Treana'ad warrior said.

P'Thok sighed, filling his suit with the smell of frustration. Luckily, he'd learned a bit about humans when he had valiantly infiltrated Terra.

"If you give me your word not to 'be stupid', to use your phrase, I'll untie you," P'Thok said. He saw the atmosphere was steadying out and opened his face shield.

The human nodded. "You've got the plasma rifle, man. No problem, I'm just a station supervisor."

"Excellent, human," P'Thok looked at the desk. "Harry Dendles," he looked at his men. "Untie the human, he has promised to behave."

His two men nodded excitedly. Of course the human had agreed, he must have recognized P'Thok, Hero of Ice Cream. They untied the human, who sat in his chair, rubbing his arms.

"You aren't going to blow up the station, are you?" Harry asked. P'Thok could smell fear and anxiety pouring off the human and had to resist the urge to shoot the human before it could attack him.

P'Thok shook his head, another thing he had learned on Terra. "No. That would run counter to my purpose and my mission."

"Oh," Harry said. He sighed and pointed at a rectangular package on his desk. "Look, my nerves are shot. Do you mind if I smoke?"

The two warriors looked at P'Thok. Why would the human be asking if he could emit smoke or maybe even smoulder.

P'Thok remembered cigarettes, dimly, from his time on Terra. It was something humans did when stressed and trying to maintain their emotional comfort or attempting to relax. He nodded. "Of course."

Harry tapped the pack on the desk then opened it, pulling out one. He lit it with a lighter and looked at the big Treana'ad who had its face plate open. He held out the pack. "Want one?"

P'Thok felt a surge of panic as he realized the two other warriors were staring at him. He tried to show no trace of the anxiety he could feel surging up and smell in his own pheromones as he nodded and reached out. He took one, put it in his mandibles, and then accepted a light. He inhaled the smoke and waited to die.

Instead, when he exhaled, the smell of anxiety in his armor faded away, replaced by the soothing smell of the 'smoke'. Standing up straighter, he took another long puff on it, exhaling some out of his mouth.

The smoke rushed down his secondary breathing system, into his big lungs in his abdomen, and filled his blood and ichor system with nicotine. He exhaled through his legs and some out of his mouth, feeling himself calm.

"Do you have another package of smokes?" P'Thok asked mildly. "And a lighting device?"

"Um, sure?" Harry said. He dug an extra pack and lighter out of his desk and handed it to the big insect.

P'Thok's mind felt much clearer, much calmer, as he stood in the station commander's office. He could no longer smell the Terran's fear and anxiety, which made him calmer.

His men stared in shock. They knew P'Thok was a legend, but the fact he was standing there, a lit tube of some kind of plant wrapped in cellulose paper in his mouth, inhaling the smoke, and not dying was incredible.

They felt awed in being in his presence.

"What do you need?" Harry asked, realizing he might be able to get out of this with his skin intact. Not only that, he might even be able to convince the Treana'ad not to blow up the station and kill all fifty personnel aboard it.

"When is the next Mantid transport due in?" P'Thok asked, exhaling smoke. His armor was whining a bit about having to push the smoke out of the leg atmospheric ejectors since it ID'd the smoke as an environmental hazard, but he overrode the armor to no longer produce an alarm and to use the ejectors around his footpads.

"I'll have to check the records," Harry said. To be honest, the big Treana'ad warrior, with smoke wafting out around his feet from the cigarette, was a little intimidating. He didn't fidget like the other two, he held perfectly still, staring at him with his compound eyes from inside his helmet.

"No tricks, human Harry Dendles," P'Thok warned, emulating removing the 'smoke' from his mouth and tapping the ashes into the small tray on the human's desk. To be honest, P'Thok was enjoying not having the mission jitters.

Harry just nodded, bringing up the data on his terminal and turning the screen so the big warrior could see it. "Later today."

"Excellent," P'Thok said. "I will be leaving men to guard the station. Once we accomplish our mission we will leave," P'Thok felt a moment of confidence come over him. "Cooperate with me and I will even leave without blowing up your station, sparing all of your lives."

Harry nodded.

"I want you to run a search of your stores. I wish to know if you are in possession of this substance," P'Thok said. He leaned forward and used one bladearm to tap out what he wanted.

Harry checked. They had plenty. It was easy to make and it improved morale. "Yes, we have plenty."

P'Thok nodded. He took another drag and realized he was getting close to the brown end. He tapped one entry on the screen. "Have a container of that brought to the docking bay along with proper implements and some of..." P'Thok leaned closer. "That. Bring a bottle of that."

"Um, of course," Harry said. "I'll have a robot do it. No tricks."

"Do not hurt the human, just guard him," P'Thok ordered, stubbing out the 'smoke' like the human did. He closed his faceplate. "I will be speaking to the Matron."

The others signalled assent, still amazed at how calm P'Thok had been while dealing with the Terran, who still looked fearsome to them.

P'Thok moved through the station, arriving as the rest of the strike force boarded the station. He ordered them to ensure the humans could not interfere with the mission, but otherwise not to impede them in their tasks.

In the docking bay a robot was waiting and he ordered it to follow him.

He started to feel anxious as he moved through the ship, heading for the Matron's quarters. The pheromones didn't help so he opened his face plate and lite another 'smoke' from the pack. By the second drag he didn't feel as anxious and breathed a long inhalation and exhalation of relief. He tapped a control and his helmet folded up around his neck.

It was not permitted to enter the chambers of a matron with one's head shielded and armored.

He touched the signal pad and waited. The door opened up and immediately the rich thick smell of Matron pheromones filled his senses.

And withdrew when he took a drag off the smoke.

The Matron eyed P'Thok as the large male warrior entered. The sight of him, and his delicious looking head, made her quiver. Once the mission was over, she fully intended upon mating with him and eating his head. She let the pheromones of excitement flow from her, knowing that it would transmit to the big warrior caste Treana'ad.

Instead, he just stood there, some kind of white tube with a beige end in his mouth, the far end burning and wafting a thin stream of smoke.

"Your mission?" The Matron asked, puffing out more pheromones.

"Part One is complete, oh Matron," P'Thok said, feeling smugness deep inside. Her pheromones were easy to ignore! The smoke leaking out of his collar and wafting up from the burning end masking the pheromones.

The Matron stared at P'Thok, sensing nothing but a deep calm form the warrior.

Perhaps the other Matrons are right. Perhaps there is something special about this one, she mused. After all, he planned this raid, promised us something we could never dream of.

P'Thok was keenly aware of the Matron's inspection of him but didn't feel the fear that most males felt in the presence of a Matron. He wasn't afraid that she would suddenly eat his head, and knew that if she moved toward him, he would calmly refuse and run away like any sensible male.

"What is that robot holding?" the Matron asked.

"Proof that what I claim is true," P'Thok said. He turned to the robot, opening the container. He filled a bowl, added some sauce, and put a spoon in it. "Do not eat the bowl or the metal eating implement. Just the soft stuff. Go slowly, it can cause pain if eaten too fast."

He handed the bowl to the Matron, who looked at the small amount in the bottom. "This is the miraculous substance you promise will change everything?"

P'Thok nodded. "Yes, Matron."

"Hmm, you better be right," the Matron said. She picked up the metal eating implement, noting that it was freezing cold.

She took a single bite.

It was cold, but tasted amazing. Tastes blossomed in her mouth, when she exhaled through her mouth to warm it the complex protein chains were sensed by her delicate antenna, bringing more pleasure coursing through her mind.

P'Thok smelled the pheromones and quickly lit another cigarette, so he had two in his mouth.

The Matron heeded P'Thok's advice, looking at the male out of the corner of her eye. He was much more handsome than she had previously realized. Virile too. She could tell in the fearless way he looked at her, admiring her beauty. After all, what wasn't to admire. She was a powerful and wise Matron, who had laid many broods of eggs and eaten a hundred heads.

The bowl was empty too quickly and the Matron held out the bowl. "More?" she asked coyly, fluttering her wings, knowing they were flushed with blood.

"More will make you intoxicated to the point of delusions of grandeur," P'Thok warned. "The humans call it 'being high' and it should be avoided."

"Oh," the Matron said, pouting slightly with a droop of the antenna and a sad clacking of her mandibles.

She realized something with a start.

While she definitely hoped that such a fine specimen as P'Thok would realize just how attractive she was, even for an older Matron who's carapace color was beginning to fade, she no longer felt the driving urge to mate. No longer felt the hunger to mate and devour his head. The idea of mating was more a dreamy, drowsy thing that made her abdomen warm rather than a burning desire she couldn't wipe out of her mind.

She looked at the bowl.

"This substance..." she said softly, rubbing her wings together and luxuriating in the drowsy sensual pleasure of it. "This substance is amazing. You were right, we must seize more of it, show it to the Hive Queens, the High Matrons."

P'Thok tapped out a smoke. "Try this, Matron. Another human secret I wrested from them with guile and cleverness."

The arousal and excitement pheromones were thick and the Matron was amazed that P'Thok dared to lean close, put the tube in her mouth, in her sharp and deadly mandibles, and then light the tube.

She inhaled and then exhaled like he suggested.

She felt a calm come over her and the smell of her pheromones receded. Her antenna raised in surprised.

"I will assign one of my men to you, Matron," P'Thok said. "I know they will be safe with you now."

The Matron nodded. To be honest, she'd rather have another little scoop of that wonderful substance and another 'smoke' than eat a male's head.

At least there wasn't a body to dispose of or bury for the grubs to eat when they hatched.

As for himself, P'Thok searched out the stores and found whole cartons of packs of smokes, even little machines that could have liquid added for the same effects. He ordered his men to carry a pack at all times, to have a lit one in their mandibles when approaching the Matron. He took one of the machines and convinced a human to decorate it with precious stones.

The Matron looked up as P'Thok entered her chamber again. She felt a little silly about how she had tried to seduce the big warrior before the mission was over and hoped he would not berate her. Instead, he just knelt down and held a small device and a bottle infuser out to her.

"What is it?" she asked.

P'Thok realized he had no idea what to call it. He thought fast. "A power smoker. Fit only for the wealthy and sophisticated such as yourself, oh Matron."

whew, he thought to himself when he saw her antenna perk up.

She took it and examined it. "What does it do?"

"You simply put the tube in your mouth, press the button, and inhale as if you are using a smoke. I have it loaded with something called 'bubble-gum treat' flavored smoke," P'Thok said, his own basic smoke keeping away the slight tang of misery pheromones.

The Matron followed P'Thok's instructions. She felt a sudden relief as the slight nagging feeling of being a failure left her and her own pheromones receded. The taste was absolutely delicious. She started to take another hit off it and looked at P'Thok.

"May I take more than one 'hit' off of it?" the Matron asked.

"The human who showed me how to use the device, on pain of death," P'Thok lied about that part, "Showed that you can inhale more and completely surround yourself with a thick cloud."

The Matron inhaled deeply, exhaling through her legs as hard as she could.

The entire room filled with a cloud of vape smoke. It banished old lingering pheromones, wiped away scents of thoughts and discussions before.

The Matron rubbed her wings in shock. "The humans have been keeping this from us?"

"Yes, oh Matron," P'Thok said, exhaling his own smoke. The Matron approved of that. It let her senses know he was there, unlike pheromone maskers, but it was easier to handle.

"Then I hereby approve of your dangerous raid into human space," she said. Her wings quivered slightly. "First, they dare think they can wrest those valuable planets from us, deny us the cold warmth of the red sun and the soft feel of sand and the sweet smell of nitrogen, then they withhold two wondrous secrets?"

P'Thok nodded.

"I see more clearly than I have my entire life, P'Thok," the Matron said. "You were right. We must wrest this from the humans. We will commit this raid, show the humans that the Treana'ad are to be taken most seriously," she paused for a moment. "Then we will make our demands to them."

P'Thok nodded slowly and the Matron approved of how solemn the human gesture looked.

"We will demand they cede control of the planets we desire, and give us the secrets of ice cream and smoke," the Matron commanded.

"As you will, oh Matron," P'Thok said. He saluted and began to leave.

"Oh, P'Thok," the Matron called out.

P'Thok slowly turned, feeling fear but the smoke preventing the pheromones from being scented. "Yes, oh Matron?"

"If your raid is successful, you and I shall breed," the Matron said.

P'Thok wanted to scream and run away. He knew it would happen sooner or later. He was doomed!

"What kind was the third variant taste I tried with that sauce?" the Matron asked.

"Strawberry ripple with hard chocolate shell sauce," P'Thok said.

"Mmm," the Matron hummed, rubbing her wings in please. "Bring that. It tastes better than your head ever could and the shell was pleasantly crunchy. And more of this liquid for my power smoker."

"As you wish, Matron," P'Thok said. He saw the Matron ignoring him, preferring to stare at the star chart. He hurried out, sagging slightly in relief as he walked down the hallway.

His men saw his relaxed saunter and knew that if P'Thok was that sure of the plan, there was no way it could fail.

Soon they would raid the Terrans and the secret of Ice Cream would be theirs!

As for himself, P'Thok raided the store rooms and made sure he took half of the power-smoker liquid.

After all, when a Matron has expressed interest in you, it never hurt to make preparations.

When the Mantid trader docked, their airlock cycled to open up to the umbilical and the Mantid crewmen stared in shock.

A huge Treana'ad warrior stood in the airlock, a cigarette in his mandbles and a plasma rifle in his hand.

"I believe you have my property," P'Thok drawled out, just like the Terran in his favorite Tri-Vee show. He exhaled smoke and motioned with his plasma rifle. "If you comply, you will come to no harm."

The Speaker aboard the vessel weighed the chances. A cigarette smoking Treana'ad with a plasma rifle with at least a full military squad behind him could easily kill his entire crew. The Speaker cursed himself for not bringing a few warriors with him, but all of the warriors were being held back at the Hive Homes.

With a sigh the Speaker gave over command of his ship.

The Treana'ad warriors were unusually focused to the Speaker's psychic senses. The Matron was not the barely repressed ball of breeding urgency, but rather calm and focused on something.

It was strange.

And the Speaker didn't like strange.

He let the usually focused Treana'ad take his ship, trusting in their promises to return soon.

He watched as the ship vanished into jumpspace. He thought, for a second, about overwhelming the minds on the station and taking the Treana'ad ship, but changed his mind. Revealing his abilities now would ruins decades of planning.

-----------

Delmek-4 was a standard agricultural planet. They produced wheat, sorghum, corn, soybeans, alfalfa, potatoes, and tobacco. There were sheep, pig, cow, and other animal farms. Factories took the raw food and turned it to foodstuffs, from bread to steaks to mutton to ice cream to cigarettes. True, it was near the Treana'ad Disputed Zone, but it wasn't exactly a priority military target and the close proximity of Mestacalla and the Republic Navy base there at only 7 light years made sure they could scream for help.

P'Thok stood on the bridge, a cigarette in his mandibles, surrounded by the smell of bubble gum as the Matron stared at the planet below.

"You're sure this is the planet we want?" she asked, puffing on her power smoker.

"Positive," P'Thok said confidently. He pointed at the two flattened container labels.

DELMEK ICE CREAM AND DAIRY CORPORATION was written on one.

MANUFACTURED ON DELMEK was on the other.

P'Thok removed the smoke from his mandibles and gestured with it to the pilot. "Take us in for a landing and get ready."

The Matron rubbed her wings together with glee.

And exhaled pink bubblegum vape across the bridge.

She had completely forgotten the burning, all consuming desire to breed.

"The secret of Ice Cream and Cigarettes will be ours!" she crowed.

P'Thok left the bridge, smoke in his mandibles, to gather his men.

A daring raid was waiting.