Dark, forested hallways lined the interior of the spaceship, lit only by an eerie green glow.

The being known as Daemoras of the Guthnar hated these hallways. Raptor were bred for the open plains, to hunt, and to chase their prey. They did not run between dense, forested canopies, or skulk within swampy marshes. The dry lands of the savannah had birthed his people and their clans - and they had ruled those lands, from the days of the wandering nomad to the era of their rising civilization.

Until the Hierarchy had come.

Daemoras had been born in servitude. Not slavery, no; only those of the Bones were slaves. The peoples of the Spine served. Service was duty, service was honor, service was life.

To leave service was death.

Now, Daemoras walked through hallways dark and narrow, dotted with evil-looking creepers and vicious, purple vines which tripped him every few steps. In service to his Xeranai ‘guide’.

As superiors went, Looks Gently Upon Blossoming Flowers wasn’t a bad boss. Blossoming - as Daemoras referred to his master in his mind - was obsessed with genetic tinkering, and could usually be steered in a suitable direction by promising more biological samples.

That didn’t make the meeting any less risky. Raptors who underestimated the danger of a meeting with a Xeranai had a tendency to end up on vivisection tables. Being a Clanlord protected Daemoras from that - somewhat - but it was best to approach the meeting as he would an ambush.

Blossoming was in his garden, tending to a set of flowers. It's six spider-like limbs spread out, as he reposed upon a massive flowerbed. In one limb, he clasped a flower and held it up to his compound eyes.

Daemoras couldn’t help a tiny shudder at the sight of Blossoming. The Xeranai were massive, compared to Raptors or even Archons - nearly eight feet high, and fifteen across. Covered by a hard black shell, even an unarmed and unarmored Xeranai would be a dangerous opponent for a single Raptor.

Of course, the strongest weapon the Xeranai had were their minds. Minds that understood technology at a level only the fabled Liraeans themselves could have matched.

Every starship, every weapon, every suit of armor that the Hierarchy fielded in its wars was designed by a Xeranai somewhere. Every Sarnak ground trooper was a testament to the work of their biotech.

Only the Archons themselves were more powerful than the Xeranai.

So Daemoras guarded his thoughts, even as the Xeranai reached out to him with Mindspeech.

: Ah, Daemoras. Pleasant to look upon you.

Daemoras carefully measured his thoughts before responding. Mindspeech was a gift of the Liraeans, and the only way so many different races could talk to each other. The transmitters the Xeranai had given him and his kin allowed them to understand it and convert their thoughts into it - but one had to be careful not to let unintended thoughts convert.

Raptors who had let an insulting or careless thought leak into their Mindspeech would find themselves on vivisection tables soon afterwards.

So Daemoras mentally rehearsed what he was going to say, then said it.

: The honor is mine, milord

: What brings you here this day, clanlord?

: I bring news of the campaign against the Human world

: Yes, good. A most vexing species, these humans. Tell us.

Us? Thought Daemoras.

: Do we have company, milord?

: I am graced with a most august guest. You have perhaps not been introduced to him. Come forth, friend and ally.

The sight that greeted Daemoras sent a chill down his spine.

A mass of tentacles floated through the air. Vaguely jellyfish-like, if a jellyfish could fly. It gently settled upon a stump.

The being that it represented was no more than four feet high, and one of the weakest creatures in the Hierarchy - physically. The name of its species was untranslateable even with Mindspeech.

So they were called by the name others had given them - the Puppetmasters.

For all the strength of the Archons, they could only shatter people’s bodies. The Puppetmasters were different. Of all the species of the Hierarchy, none had mastered the art of mind control as perfectly as them.

If you offended a Puppetmaster, you didn’t die. You simply found yourself added to their entourage of slaves. The Puppetmaster’s will overrode your own, and you spent the rest of your life trapped in your body, unable to control your actions, a puppet for their will.

If the Puppetmaster was particularly displeased, it would simply break your mind like an eggshell.

So the Clanlord thought the only thing he could afford to think.

: you honor me, milord

: Friend Puppetmaster, I make known to you my friend and colleague, Daemoras, Clanlord Guthnar of the Raptors, who serve within the Spine of the Hierarchy. I ask that you offer him the gift of your Name.

: I am known amongst my people as Bloodsword.

Daemoras gulped. Bloodsword was a known - and feared - name even amongst the Puppetmasters. This was him?

: I greet you, milord Bloodsword.

: Give your report, Raptor.

Daemoras forced himself to remain still. For a Clanlord to be called simply ‘Raptor’ - like a raw cadet or civilian - was a grave insult. Unfortunately, courtesy was not something the Puppetmasters bothered with – especially when speaking to those they deemed inferior.

: I regret to report that the last two battles have been particularly damaging for our people.

: My clan has borne the brunt of these losses. Two of our Scions have been lost in the raids on the cities of the humans. As well as several hundred fine Raptor troops, and many of our Sarnak fellows, and several Grizzeloid volunteers.

: We believe that the extra losses are due to a few particularly strong empowered, and these may turn into a danger unless additional resources are brought to bear.

: I fail to see the problem.

Daemoras twitched at Bloodsword’s interruption. Fortunately, Blossoming seemed a bit irritated as well.

: continue your report, Clanlord.

: at both battles, we noted certain empowered who were followed by loyal vassals. The empowered were able to break through our formations and the vassal soldiers followed with heavy weapons.

: Human vassals overwhelmed Raptor soldiers with Xeranai-gifted weaponry? Perhaps you need better soldiers.

: We should absorb the entirety of the report before developing hypotheses, friend Puppetmaster. Only by complete understanding of all the facts can we propose a proper corrective course of action.

: Is this your vaunted Xeranai science at work?

: It is best practice, friend Puppetmaster. You stated that you wished to observe Xeranai methods. I ask that you observe.

Bloodsword quieted.

: We believe that these represent the possible emergence of a strong empowered with authority to raise and command vassal formations. Such an empowered may pose a threat to us.

: Or they may finally be finding their Exemplar.

: It is a possibility.

Daemoras hoped not, for his clan’s sake. Two of his sons were gone, fighting the human empowered. However, the norms had to be followed.

: Such a possibility calls for proper testing, milord. I would propose we put the empowered here to the test in the truest spirit.

: Present your proposal.

: If it is a possibility for an Exemplar to have risen, it must be tested. I would suggest that the Clan Guthnar launch a full force assault on the Human homeworld, drawing the attention of the potential Exemplar, who will come to defend his territory. The assault will be backed by two million Raptor soldiers of proven valour and will be led by me personally.

: Ah, Daemoras. You would test an infant with calculus. Surely a full assault is excessive in this case.

Daemoras felt his heart sink.

: Milord, we have spent much time sieging the Human homeworld awaiting the rise of their Exemplar. Surely we should speed the process along. And I am willing to volunteer my clan to be the foil to the Human warriors.

: My dear Daemoras, the purpose of the siege is to cultivate, not obliterate. If we wished the latter, Xeranai battleships are powerful enough to reduce their planetary shields for long enough to let the Archons break through.

: Indeed.

: We test the humans with slightly stronger stimuli every year, to see how they adapt. As an immune system strengthens through exposure to weakened viruses, so too does a species strengthen through the proper application of force. If the virus is too strong, the patient is overwhelmed and the virus, too, dies out in time.

: Two million soldiers and a Clanlord is not vaccination but infection.

Daemoras chose his words carefully.

: We believe the humans need to be tested more strongly. They have beaten back several assaults recently.

: Including by your Scions.

Daemoras winced internally. He'd hoped that would not come up.

: Your mind is a sieve, Clanlord.

: I'll thank you to stay out of the minds of my vassals.

: You are too lenient with them.

: And you are too harsh. Did you not yourself suggest a greater degree of force be applied upon the human forces?

: The decisions of the Mind are not to be questioned by the Spine.

: Those of the Spine are also our partners in the Great Struggle. The Liraeans chose to test all of us equally. So let us give them the respect that they are due.

: The Mind of the Hierarchy decides strategy. The Spine implements. The Bones yield their labour. Thus is the Great Struggle. A child of the Spine should not question the Mind.

: A guest should observe and learn before philosophizing. But we were considering hypotheticals, were we not? Else I would take offense at being taught science in my own laboratory.

Daemoras feared for a moment the Puppetmaster might lose control. Fortunately, the being seemed to know better to challenge a Xeranai in the heart of his ship.

: It seems to me that your observations, Daemoras, raise some good points. We do desire the rise of an Exemplar, to see where the Humans should truly fit. Therefore, we shall test more intensely.

: We shall test three more times. First, we shall test with the assistance of one of the Carnotaur. If the empowered and their vassals survive, we shall next test with a heavier mechanized element guided by frontline Xeranai tech. And if that, too, fails, then, my dear Daemoras, you shall have your opportunity.

: My lord, you honor me.

: I understand that your two younger Scions are missing in battle. Perhaps the older ones should be given a chance to prove their mettle.

Daemoras flinched. His two surviving Scions, deployed against the humans - without him?

: There is no need, my Lord. I would serve in person. Or choose able officers to command the forces, if needed.

: But it is also a test. If the Human Exemplar has arisen, then the tests will prove that progressively. And if it is not the Exemplar, then your Scions should have no difficulty overwhelming them.

: Battle is uncertain.

: Science is not. Your Scions were engineered to hold the finest traits of your Clan. Therefore, if they fall to anything less than an Exemplar, there is a failing in our understanding - and selection - of your clan’s true genetic potential. We must put the hypothesis to the test.

: If your Scions win, then the selection was correct. If they fail and you succeed, then the selection was wrong, and we must start anew. And if you all fail, then perhaps the Humans have finally found their Exemplar.

: Thus the experiment shall provide evidence to select the accurate hypothesis.

Daemoras bowed.

: Your will is my command, my Lord.

: As you have observed, friend Bloodsword, the path of science is of structured experimentation. I trust the learning is of value?

: Indeed.

: Go forth and prepare, Daemoras. I shall inform the Packs to select a suitable candidate Carnotaur.

Daemoras bowed and retreated from the chamber.

As he walked past the vines and fronds, his rigid self-control gave way to anger.

To sacrifice his surviving sons to….!

To prove a scientific point!

In the privacy of his mind, he raged. But only in private.

There were three races that comprised the Mind of the Hierarchy. Xeranai, Archons, and Puppetmasters.

To question a decision from one of them - any one - was suicide.

So, Daemoras resolved, he would follow Blossoming’s orders exactly.

But he would do so in his own way, so that his sons had a fighting chance.