Excerpt:

Up until exactly the 13th day of November, Common Universal Era 2844 at precisely 7:46:42 Central Mean Time on the small moon called Ruusalka, humankind had thought itself alone.

On exactly the 13th day of November, Common Universal Era 2844 (the human common universal era, of course) at exactly 7:46:43 Central Mean Time on the small moon called Ruusalka, they discovered they were wrong.

It came in the form of an energy pulse. One moment, the world was running smoothly, continuing on as if it was just another ordinary day; in the next moment, all was thrown into darkness and chaos.

Traffic signals went haywire; lighting systems blew, television, smell o vision, radio, and holographic signals all fizzled and died where they oscillated through the air, every one of the numerous signals dropping like dead flies. All amusement park rides stopped right in the middle, turning screams of joy into shouts of true terror and confusion; cars shorted out and on the highway went slip sliding right into one another, thanks to the near instantaneous halting of their primary power systems but not of their inertia. In the blink of an eye, the world was thrown into chaos.

And in the dark confines of her family’s luxury shuttle-cum-house, Jayne Delra-Smith stirred.

...

The captain was in disgrace. Having perpetuated the error, it had been decided from on high that he must thusly be punished, and now Vkerrak Thithmirren mor’ Zelthrak XVIII was Captain no more. The disgrace had been diffused among those shipboard just enough to keep his antennae from being chewed on, but made Vkerrak Thithmirren mor’ Zelthrak XVIII not even a mere drone but instead a subdrone, oh humiliations of humiliations. He would have to work long and hard to regain his former status, clawing his way back up the corporate ladder and into the Queen’s good graces. He had become one more lowly than even the much despised Pilot III, who, he was thankful to find, was now off duty for the next week or two, but now he had to discover small facts like this through the grapevine, rather than encountering them firsthand on the bridge. Now he was exiled instead to the Fifth Science Room, stuck of course with his very favorite people in the universe—the anthropology department.

“Greetings, oh Captain!” cried one overexuberant scientist, and “Vkerrak Thithmirren mor’ Zelthrak XVIII!” blurted another. “You’re early!”

Vkerrak Thithmirren mor’ Zelthrak XVIII grumbled and mumbled a sort of reply to his new brethren. They all goggled at him for a moment until he whistled out a sigh from beneath his chitin and replied more comprehensibly.

“Yes, I am early. As most officers on this ship generally are, if they are truly concerned of being of best service to their Queen.” Let the pathetic soft shelled squishy little subdrones chew on that. Hah! “I intend to continue being early, so I suggest you give me the key my new post merits…” he cast a jaundiced eye over those present, wondering disapprovingly just who was slacking on their duties.

A miniscule green and brown mottled soft shell with crumpled looking wings that could use a good dusting and a fat abdomen which indicated a life of far too great leisure detached himself from the milling group now looking uncertainly from one insectoid face to another and timidly scuttled forward, digging in the oversized pockets of his bandoliered outfit and emerging with a small handheld device which he presented to Vkerrak Thithmirren mor’ Zelthrak XVIII with a shaky middle hand. Vkerrak Thithmirren mor’ Zelthrak XVIII snatched it up, scowling in disapproval, and briskly scribbled down something upon it in illegible text before setting his forepalm against it for a moment. It hummed, buzzed, and spat out a small green key in the shape of a leaf. Officiously Vkerrak Thithmirren mor’ Zelthrak XVIII handed back the small device to the scientist, who quailed back, eyeing it askance a moment before taking it with the very tips of his fingers. Vkerrak Thithmirren mor’ Zelthrak XVIII turned his back on him with a small disdainfully bussing flutter of his wings and looked to the rest of his new co workers, trying to still his wings for fear of offending them too much. Lowly subdrones they might be but they could make his life quite difficult if they chose. That was the problem of these lower level jobs like Fifth Scientist; they required teamwork, by the Queen’s frazzled antennae, and Vkerrak Thithmirren mor’ Zelthrak XVIII didn’t like that one bit. He was far too used to being the one giving orders and ignoring these lowly peons with their noses stuck always to a computer screen or dusty hepparwa tome of leaflets full of incomprehensible science babblese to relish the thought of working directly with them now.

Besides which, as all on the bridge knew far too well, they were whiners.

And nobody liked a whiner, least of all Vkerrak Thithmirren mor’ Zelthrak XVIII.

Buzzing slightly again as he looked in irritation at Scientists One, Two, Three, and Four, by the coloring of their bandoliers. These were the beings under him. Then he looked at numbers Six through Ten—his new superiors. They seemed a disreputable bunch indeed to his professional Captain’s eye. Ruffle winged and hunch backed, the lot of them, and every insect Aschekra of them shuffling their feet and avoiding his eyes like guilty nymphlets caught stealing Aschekran honey. Some high ranked respectable scientists these. “Well then,” he said, casting his stern eye over all of them. “Am I to be briefed, or …?”