Matriarch by Karen Traviss

the place for a meeting that would decide the fate ofbillions of isenj. Ade unfolded a few chairs and set them around the table.
    â€œIsenj can’t sit on those, mate,” said Eddie. “Let’s find a small crate or something.”
    â€œSurreal,” said Shan. “Couldn’t we manage a meeting room?”
    â€œI think they converted all the larger units to accommodation. Don’t worry. Isenj aren’t as touchy as humans about protocol.”
    â€œWhat is discussed is important,” said Esganikan, but she didn’t sit down. Shan felt as if the matriarch filled the room, and she wasn’t used to a physical presence that rivaled her own. “And it will not be a long discussion.”
    â€œCan I record it?” asked Eddie.
    â€œIf you wish.”
    Shan wondered what he would do with the footage. If it turned out the way she imagined, it would hardly make comfortable viewing. Esganikan probably knew that.
    â€œShe’s coming,” said Aitassi.
    Shan had never quite worked out if ussissi had exceptional hearing or smell, or both, but they seemed to have an almost osmotic degree of communication. She looked towards the door and an isenj was walking towards them like an unsteady trolley, tottering on multiple legs. She’d seen isenj before; but that had been seconds before a firefight. She’d never sat down at a table to talk to one in a civilized fashion.
    For a moment, she recalled the smell of wet leaves and fungal forest floor and agonizing pain—Aras’s pain at the hands of his isenj captors. It was as vivid as if it had happened to her. She tried to shake herself out of it, and then Ade caught her eye and she wondered if he was recalling it too. The memories had spread between them like flu and they shared one another’s nightmares. It was too bad that the joyful memories hadn’t surfaced in the same way. There had to be some.
    A ussissi trotted through the door, a small male with a bandoleer of green beaded belts rattling across his shoulders. “Eddie Michallat,” he said in his high-pitched childlike voice.“You’re back.”
    â€œHi, Ralassi. Who do you work for now?”
    Well, this is cordial. Shan watched as the isenj trundled through the opening and stood before them. There were no identifiable eyes to focus on and it was covered in dark quills, each tipped with a bead of brilliant blue transparent stone. It rattled like a chandelier and it smelled of forest floor. Shan dug her nails into her palms and noticed Ade swallow hard, eyes fixed on the creature; yes, he had the nightmare memories too.
    But Shan had her own personal recollections. This was the closest she had ever been to a live isenj: the last encounter with them had ended with a round shattering her skull. Spider. Piranha. Porcupine. Her human brain struggled for a comparison, but the small part of her that remembered what it was to be wess’har and isenj and bezeri and God only knew what else via her c’naatat somehow saw enemy and comrade and stranger. It was unsettling to say the least.
    Eddie looked uneasy.
    â€œI introduce you to Minister Rit,” said Ralassi. “She has been anxious to meet you—especially you, Eddie Michallat. Her mate was Par Paral Ual.”

5
    The Eqbas Vorhi have invaded my world, to rescue us from our environmental problems. My husband invited them. The rest of Umeh’s states did not. We are now close to war with our neighbors. I know nothing about the humans stranded here, except that they call us spiders, and little more about the Eqbas—but I know Wess’ej. And I know I have to finish the process my husband started, or his death is meaningless. So I claim my ancient legal right to his office, to his ministerial role, and I will do what he would have wanted.
    R IT P AR P ARAL ,
widow of former Minister Ual, isenj Minister of State,
in a message to the Northern Assembly
    It took a lot to reduce