The three videos hit InfoNet like atomic bombs.

They were each viewed in the billions of times in the first 72 hours. Then watched and rewatched over and over.

Each video spawned hundreds, thousands of imitators seeking to prove or disprove the videos, all of them doing nothing more than proving they existed. On all eight planets the videos were played even on the public access Tri-Vee channels. Even children watched them.

The first two were very much alike.

"Smoking for the Survival Oriented Male" was the first one. It showed a Treana'ad warrior caste with a nifty looking hat putting a white tube with one brown end in his mouth and lighting the opposite end, with a warning to always ensure the brown end was held in the mandibles. How to get a good drag off of it, and how to force the smoke out of the spiracles in the legs. The video showed how to stop arguments by lighting a cigarette, how to defuse tension, how to even approach a Matron or matron and ask for directions to the nearest public entertainment facility.

The viewers were amazed at how confident the male was. Some attempted to attribute it to his marvelous hat, after all, it made him look dangerous and competent and rugged. Still others were concerned that without the hat the 'smoke' wouldn't work.

The "Moomoo Carer Hat Corporation" went from little more than an InfoNet Store to being worth trillions in the space of a week as they were swamped with orders. Every male wanted one, from the lowest street sweeper to the semi-captive breeding male of a powerful High Matron who hoped the hat would held him escape his eventual fate.

The second video, titled "Power Smoking for the Elegant Matron" featured an obviously wealthy and powerful Matron, resplendent in jewelry, an animal leather vest, a decorated sash, and her antenna adorned with star shaped charms, using a device to inhale sharply then exhale huge clouds of smoke from her spiracles. It showed how she could stop arguments, prevent recently matured, just molted females from overwhelming a male with pheromones, ease discomfort of those who had fought the Terrans and survived, and even calm the highly aggressive hatchlings.

The video was watched over and over.

The "Designer Power Smoker" corporation and the "Senso-Taste Smoke Juice" corporation were flooded with orders to the point where powerful High Matrons petitioned their local Hive Queens to move them up on the order list, since both corporations were militantly "first come first serve" when it came to filling orders.

The Hive Queens all sipped at their ornate and sparkly power-smokers, listened to the complaints of the High Matrons, and universally (as agreed during the meetings) used "Sour Apple Surprise" to signal their displeasure and ordered the High Matrons to return to their lavish estates and be grateful that the world was changing.

Which startled the High Matrons, as they knew that either they would have their request granted or be eaten by the Hive Queen's grubs.

The Hive Queens of all eight worlds knew that the next one would change Treana'ad destiny even more than the (accidental) discovery of jumpspace and jumpspace superluminal flight. They had argued, worried, considered, and debated the release of the third video.

But they agreed, like the (totally on purpose and not at all accidental) invention of the jump-drive had, that to try to stand in the way of the destiny of the Treana'ad was a good way to get run over and left like a flying insect on a groundcar's windscreen.

So the video hit InfoNet.

And promptly crashed the servers.

The beginning of the video was... controversial to say the least.

Four just molted young adult females were arguing in a room, each having taken up a corner, chittering angrily at one another, sharpening bladearms, hurling insults, their wings and carapaces flush with blood and shining brightly.

A matron entered with a power smoker and exhaled a huge cloud of smoke that filled the room and rolled over the young females. They calmed, no longer throwing insults, but the anger was still almost palpable even over the video. The matron produced four bowls, handing one to each of the females. Each bowl contained two small roundish orbs of something creamy looking that glittered with frost. The females ate the orbs and seemed to get drowsy, quickly moving to embrace one another and reaffirm their familial bonds and friendship.

Everyone who saw the video knew that what they had seen was impossible. The four females should have engaged in an orgy of slaughter until only one was left, and statistically, there was a high chance that all four would have died.

The next part started out confusing. A Matron entered the room with a worker caste, who had on one of the neato hats. The worker was carrying a bowl of ice in one hand and a bag of stuff in the other. As the viewers watched the worker, under the supervision of the obviously wealthy and powerful Matron, brought out two metal can with plas lids. The two cans were empty, which the worker showed off. First the worker put ice in the bottom of the larger can, then mixed ingredients in the smaller. Something called "Moomoo Juice" and other esoteric ingredients. Not many, really, just four that were listed as "IMPORTANT". The kilikik fruit that was chopped into small chunks was listed as optional as was the crushed iktakvak nuts. Once the ingredients were in the smaller can, the worker put the lid on it. Then the worker put ice in the bottom of the big metal can, sprinkled sea salt on it, then placed the small can on top of the ice. Then four layers of ice, each time salt was put on it, then covered the smaller can and put the lid on it. The worker then wrapped the large can in a cloth.

Then was a cut away scene where the worker used his bladearms to roll the can back and forth for a long time. The video advised the male to have a smoke during this time.

When the worker was done, he opened the large can, removed the smaller, then made sure the camera had a good view of him opening the small can.

A wondrous substance was revealed. A thick semi-solid that was extremely cold but still soft. He pulled out a bowl, scooped out two small orbs with a bejeweled scooper (Available in limited quantities for only 350 credits! BUY NOW!) and handed the bowl to the matron. He then repeated it for three other bowls and it became obvious to the viewer that this was the substance given to the recently matured females!

Treana'ad rushed to the nearest store, only to find huge lines waiting. The stores were prepared and had hired matrons to walk the lines with power smokers, exhaling sweet smoke, to keep the Treana'ad in the lines calm. It was limited to two bags of ingredients per person, but the stores sold out in hours.

The Hive Queens had foreseen this, however, and had hovertrucks waiting to restock the stores while matrons dressed in Hive Security Armor wandered the lines with power smokers to keep everyone calm.

If the first three videos were atomic bombs, the fourth was a planet cracker.

Reserved for mature audiences only, it showed a Matron mating with a warrior caste male. Every matron who viewed it nodded along. A powerful and obviously fit male. He would sire excellent grubs, and his head would undoubtedly be delicious, causing the matron to release powerful hormones that would ensure healthy and strong grubs.

The males had seen videos like this before.

They knew how it ended.

Instead, she ate a scoop of the 'ice cream', then took a deep drag from her power smoker, and then mated. While matind she used her bladearms to slice curls of ice cream from the second orb. When the mating was done, she rapidly ate the third, took a hit from her power smoker, and ordered the male from her presence. It ended with "ICE CREAM AND SMOKE SAVES LIVES!"

He had escaped!

The males cheered for the escaped doomed male.

The females rewound the video and watched it again.

The Treana'ad numbered in the high tens of billions across their eight planets. There were thousands, tens of thousands who needed to breed.

Nearly 15% of them tried the method in the video. Almost of a third of those recording what occurred.

To the shock of everyone, the males survived, escaping while the matron relaxed, puffing on her power smoker and nibbling at the residual tastes on the tips of her bladearms.

Traditionalists wanted the videos banned, citing irreversible damage to society and the way things had always been.

The Male Resistance fractured as one half wanted the videos banned, knowing that political power would slip from their graspers, the other half seeing the videos as proof that no longer would males be destined to die just so that the Treana'ad people could endure.

The Hive Queens of the eight planets, forty-nine in all, eight of whom (one on each world) had bred with a war hero who had survived what would have been a fatal meeting, demanded the videos stayed up.

And what the Hive Queens wanted, the Treana'ad people acquiesced to.

Those four videos hit the Treana'ad species like a runaway train into a moomoo.

The Hive Queens demanded Moomoo Raids into Terran Space. If the Terrans would not share the Moomoos, then the Hive Queens would take the Moomoos.

The Matron who had financed and approved the daring night time raid that had wrested the secrets of ice cream and smoke and even snatched moomoos, who had been promoted to a High Matron, had a different suggestion.

She proposed another daring plot.

She would take a ship into Terran Space, with the War Hero to accompany her along with his faithful and dauntless combat team, and demand that the Terrans send a diplomat to speak with her. She would demand that the Terrans turn over the two red star systems to the Treana'ad people, open trade relations to the Treana'ad People, and in the Treana'ad People's benevolence, they'd return the worthless rainy and plant covered planets around those dangerous yellow stars.

The Hive Queens discussed the plan. It was insane, impossible.

Then the newly crowned High Matron reminded them that the concept of 'birth control' had also seemed impossible, but it had taken Treana'ad scientists less than a month to create a synthetic hormone that prevented breeding hysteria.

The Queens ate ice cream, puffed on their power smokers, and consulted one another.

If it didn't work, then all the Treana'ad people lost was one ship, a newly promoted High Matron, and a war hero who had already bred an outlandish and impossible ten times.

They made the decision.

"Peace or Bust" was commissioned and went into jumpspace, heading for the Terran/Treana'ad Disputed Zone.

------------------

Admiral John Tshuma rushed into the bridge of the flagship of the Enterprise, still buttoning his tunic as the red lights flashed and the klaxon wailed.

"What have got?" he asked, rubbing his face. His jaw ached from the nosleep inhaler he'd puffed on in the elevator.

"Treana'ad ship. Just one. Looks unarmed. It jumped in at the resonance zone and started broadcasting," LT JG Duong said. "They're sitting right next to a hypercom buoy and are waiting to talk."

That was new. Treana'ad usually showed up with hive ships, dropping tens of thousands of warriors onto a planet and spawning thousands of torch-ship fighters. Just one ship, asking to talk, was something that had never happened since the Treana'ad had attacked out of the blue.

"All right, is our hypercom link warmed up?" Tshuma asked.

The LT nodded and the bridge crew tensed.

"Open the link," Tshuma ordered. The screen cleared of the Republic's wallpaper, the image of the Treana'ad appearing.

Tshuma coughed, avoiding bursting out laughing. There was a huge one, possibly a female, with cloth draped over her(?) abdomen, wearing a leather vest with a silver star on the breast, and a sash covered with ornaments as well as a dangling star from the end of each of her antenna.

The male warriors were what was worse. All but the center one were wearing balaclavas, with imitation Stetson cowboy hats, leather vests with brass stars over body armor, with crossed leather belts packing plasma pistols. The male, an obvious warrior caste, in the center of the picture was not wearing a balaclava, but instead had a cigarette in his mouth.

"This is Admiral John Tshuma, of the Republic Naval Vessel Enterprise," he said. "Whom am I speaking with?"

"I am P'Thok, and my words are backed by ice cream and cigarettes so you will heed to the demands of the Treana'ad People!"