“It’s over, your majesty. The last of the scouts have not returned, and the final crack now stinks of the Ortho Rot.”
“I see…I suppose it was inevitable, after Queen Antaria’s hubris. Can you believe her rhetoric? ‘We shall live in the cupboards, amongst the stores of sugar.’ “
“Pure folly, your majesty.”
“Small strike forces at low value targets, that is how we’ve always survived, and how we will always survive. Remember the incursion on the dog food? They simply vacuumed up the patrol, not a single drop of the Rot sprayed that day.”
“Indeed, your majesty is quite wise.”
“What of the expedition we sent to the backyard? The Crucible of Charred Meat?”
“Burned, your majesty.”
“The humans sprayed the Rot on their own device?”
“No, your majesty. Burned, literally. They lit the crucible. Nothing is left but molten panic pheromones.”
“They truly are monsters…well, back to eating leaves and such, I suppose.”
“Yes, your majesty.”