Chapter Text
My name is Sethril.
I am of the Eastern Dancer Hive. And I was eight tidal cycles old when my best friend first spoke to me of betrayal.
“You know, they say the Root Spider Hive always has plenty of food,” Klesth said casually, ambling along in front of me down the narrow crop tunnel.
I paused in my own journey and pretended to inspect a part of the porous stone wall. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. I mean, it's in the very setup of the Hive.”
“The same setup that limits their population.”
“Hey, it works.”
“Tishil saw the harvest last tide cycle and said that the Root Spider Hive was almost starving.”
“You can't believe anything Tishil puts in the Hivenet. Besides, they had a mite infestation!”
“Right, like we're going to have if we don't do our jobs.” I continued alone the tunnel, forcing Klesth ahead of me to speed up. The stone around us was just luminescent enough to see my friend's bulk skittering along ahead of me. Good luminosity, especially for the beginning of lowtide season. The tunnels smelled of the acid in the waterlogged stone, and without really thinking about it, I noted the acidity. Not acidic enough, and the crops couldn't grow. Too acidic, and they'd be destroyed. Generally, the levels took care of themselves, but it was still necessary to keep note of them. If something went wrong, it would require immediate attention. Tunnel preparation prior to crop seeding was extremely important – it affected not only the quality of the crop, but the quality of the stone for future tide cycles.
“I'm just saying,” Klesth continued, “a good food level is nothing to discount.”
“Right, and we're just at the start of lowtide season. You know, when the food supplies are at their lowest. It won't be long before everyone of breeding age in every hive goes crazy, and you're picking now to...” I glanced about to make sure we were alone. We were fairly experienced at tunnel preparation by then and hadn't needed supervision for a few tide cycles, but there was always the chance that somebody could just happen to be walking by. I couldn't see or hear anyone, but nevertheless, I lowered my voice. “You choose now to talk about defection? When their food supplies will be at their lowest?”
“Is there a better time? Look, everyone wants to jump in the hive when things are going well. But what every hive really needs is extra hands to help set things up. We go now, we wouldn't be turned away.”
“But since when do... wait.” I strained to hear the slight skittering that I'd just barely detected. Most wouldn't have noticed it at all, but farmers learn to pay attention to such things. I lifted a claw to the tunnel wall and tapped firmly, listening carefully for an echo. Slightly hollow.
“Mites,” I said. I bit a small hole in the wall, revealing a long, fine tunnel within it. The tunnel was barely more than the width of my tongue, and that was no accident. I pressed my mouth to the wall and forced my tongue through the narrow hole. Pressing the sensitive appendage to the moist stone, I could detect the faint vibrations of tiny mites skittering about in their tunnels. I pushed my tongue in further, guided by those vibrations, until it hit struggling, squirming little bug bodies. They struggled, gummed down by saliva, as I kept questing.
Only when I'd explored every little tunnel in the network did I withdraw and swallow them.
“Alright, we're clear,” I said. We kept moving. “What were we talking about?”
“Economics. Politics. You know.”
“Oh, right, you mean really stupid ideas to abandon hive right before farming season. Look, Klesth, where did any of this even come from? What happened to wanting to be a legendary hunter?”
“I can be a legendary hunter and a Root Spider.”
“Yeah, but... why?”
“Sethril... do you ever think maybe we're doing this all wrong?”
“What do you mean, doing this all wrong?”
“You know. We cling on, just trying to keep our hive going another tide cycle, constantly vigilant against attack.”
“Attack?” I glanced about the peaceful, silent tunnels. “Down in the crop tunnels?”
“No, I meant the hive as a whole.”
“Well... yeah. What about it?”
“I don't know. It just seems... do you ever wonder if there's a more efficient way to use our resources?”
“More efficient than feeding and protecting our hive? Are you feeling alright?”
“Yeah. Yeah, just forget it. So, um... who do you think is going to win the tunnel racing next season?”
“Tunnel racing? When have I ever cared about tunnel racing?”
“It's going to be Nesthrif again. No doubt.”
“Uh-huh.” I pretended to care while Klesth ranted on about sports and we made our way down through the crop tunnels. But I couldn't forget what Klesth had said about the Root Spider Hive.
Defection?
Since when had Klesth had any interest whatsoever in defection?
Sports, sure. Stupidly dangerous jobs like surface hunting, definitely. But never once had Klesth mentioned the Root Spider Hive to me, or to the Hivenet, except in the context of tunnel racing. And it was hard to keep thoughts out of the Hivenet. Either Klesth was expressing just another random, quickly forgotten idea, or this thought was being taken very seriously – seriously enough to conceal on purpose.
Perhaps I didn't know my best friend as well as I'd thought.