00001.10

Initial communication: Supplemental.

From:

Alien Spy Threttubray, codename: “null value/null value/heptad”

To:  

Orbital Intelligence Communications Node Guiding Intelligence Prymaesst codename: “Mu”.

Swarm Date: DoubleWorkshiftsday; 16^th rotation of Swarm Unblemished Unity; Year of the Screaming Traitor.

Prymaesst: the particular section of your interrogative that requests data concerning my genetic and cellular wellbeing and my gross-anatomical integrity after the missile attack does not seem to have been received.

Please rebroadcast.

In reply to your first (and no doubt commendably prompt) interrogative, I am sending these reports through the primitive medium of blogging because the receptor axon cluster of my communications node was destroyed in the missile attack that forced me to ditch my landing pod in the body of water locally denominated “Lake Windermere.”

This particular Host body’s technical skills are limited to the operation of simple networking devices and the occasional replacement of malfunctioning visible light spectrum illuminators. This is much to the satisfaction of the dominant parasite/commander which occupies his nest; a satisfaction that she shares with all their familiar drones and working-party companions on numerous occasions.

As instructed, I have infested a Host in the central region of the larger island of the target sub-arctic archipelago locally denominated by the bipeds as “Great Britain”, or as “food place/big toilet” by the ruling cockroach and cat superspecies.

As theorised by my predecessor, this island is the source of the biped language used first to broadcast messages into space in volume and later was the language spoken by the only over-nest to use nuclear weaponry against their competitor bipeds, and later still by the explorers who first stood on Trash’s large natural satellite.

The wisest several hundred of the bipeds’ intelligence-bearers all agree that the colonist-warriors of the only over-nest that has so far deployed nuclear weapons (and visited the moon) are by far the most thoroughgoing and remorseless killers and conquerors that Trash has ever originated.

Quite why that particular over-nest’s equivalent of the Hive Queen and her Supreme War Council decided not to exterminate all their competitors on Trash by exploiting their brief monopoly of nuclear weaponry is not known. There must be some better weapon available to them.

It must remain a priority of our remote intelligence-gathering AIs to discover what super-weapon it is that the Murcans possess to convince them that global nuclear extermination was an unnecessary tool for realigning Trash’s power structures in their favour. 
Conversely, perhaps the cockroaches or cats influenced them to abandon their unique and enviable position of untouchable power. 
Worse; perhaps some other invading intelligence obliged the Murcans to desist from the perfectly logical course of genocide.

[Tactical briefing:

My predecessor was wrong to scale down our remote-controlled AI campaign of capture and biopsy of Murcans in pursuit of this vital enemy data. I recommend that you revive the robot probes from orbit and start gathering Murcans again for interrogation and testing. The Hive Queen has invested considerable resources in the remote robot fleet for this purpose, and I do not understand, Mu, why you should have agreed to my predecessor’s advice to power the robots down and render those useful little grey homunculi dormant.]

[Strategic briefing #1:

English is not used as a means of interspecies communication between the men and women of the two biped races.

The vocabulary and syntax of English are used in common by each species, but the meanings which are conveyed to each by the shared sounds frequently contrast and are often diametrically opposed to each other.

For example, the sentence made by a man says to the woman with whom he struggles for dominance in their shared fortress/nest: ‘Do you want to have a bath soon?’ has two different meanings.

For the man the sense is ‘Should I speedily shave whilst I’m filling your bath so I’m out of the way when you need the room to yourself?’

Yet to the woman, these self-same syllables mean; ‘Your cranial hair is oily and unkempt and you legs probably need depilating – how can you not have noticed your present state of unhygienic disarray?’

As I noted above, I expect the joint forces of the men and women to pose little if any threat to the Warrior Caste.

The biped races should be a pushover.]

[Strategic briefing #2:

We are not along on and around Trash.

As my pod recovered from the missile attack over North Korea, evaded the local aviation constabulary denominated “the RAF” and approached its eventual splashdown in Northern England, I passed over the fodder-seed agricultural complex denominated “Wiltshire”. I regret to inform you that those irresponsible and unlicensed interstellar information dilettantes The Cereal Curlers are present on Trash.

The first example of their campaign of unauthorized information about the Swarm’s galactic ambitions was pure obscenity, consisting of three equilateral triangles along a central spine imparting the blasphemous slogan “The Hive Queen Eats Everyone!”

Whilst ultimately this is strictly true, I see no reason why such an offensive and inflammatory message should be visible from orbit, and I insist you send an incendiary micrometeorite to ignite the cornfield concerned.

The second example took the form of six interlocking spirals of plain discs importing the equally dangerous:

“Hey Earth dudes, wake up and smell the Kryptonite! Watch the skies for Fabricius’ sake! S.E.T.I. epic fail!”

Time to send the cleanup crew for that one, too, if you still have your biped quislings on the payroll.]

This second, post-breakfast rest-period spell of dormancy seems to be ending.

Threttubray out.