Madame frowned. “What does that mean in practical terms?”

“We will not fight you or Micromegas for control of anything for the next hundred and fifty years. You will not interfere with our preparations for events thereafter.”

“You mean Mars?”

“I mean everything. It’s no more than the other Alphas have already granted. This world is content. The other Hives vie one with another for power and population, but a peaceful, happy Earth is utopia enough for them. The next step for humankind is left to us, and in return we share our practical inventions, let the others mass produce our cures and tools, and enjoy our art and stories, for Earth’s benefit. That is the agreement between us and other Hives, implicit but universal. It’s never been threatened before because power has been too diffuse for any few people to be in a position to change such an ingrained attitude. A global monarchy is different. We cannot sit back and let you take control until we are certain you will let our work continue.”

“Your work for the future.” Madame’s shoulders tensed with the strength which makes the she-wolf fiercer when she has cubs to defend. “I have your word that your preparations won’t threaten my empire, or my Son’s?”

“None of them are intended to, but if any do by accident you will have our full resources ready to help you reestablish yourself. You get the present. One hundred and fifty years, a long lifetime. Leave us the future.”

She made them wait, Mushi and the others watching from their distant cities, though whether the prolongation was deliberate or deliberation I cannot guess. “Agreed,” she said at last. “Just two more petty things.”

“What?”

“Hand me your vizor, and address me as Madame.”

“What?”

“Address me as Madame. You haven’t yet. Even Caesar uses the title now, but you’re deliberately avoiding it, as if that keeps you clean. You’re not clean, any of you, not anymore. As for the vizor, I’m tired of being curious, all the rumors about what you keep hidden in there.” She extended an impatient hand. “A good servant would not make me wait.”

She did wait, though, this calmly staring Matriarch, while debate sparkled across the constellations of Utopia as they felt the first tug of the yoke. “Just a moment, Madame. I need to evacuate it first.”

“Evacuate? Oh!” Madame both winced and giggled as a platoon of Mushi’s ants emerged from the vizor, making a forced march back into the safety of hair and coat. “Yes,” she laughed, “and you shall tell the hostages when you send them that if any of your vermin so much as fright a lady beneath my roof, you’ll bring them here no more.” Her eye followed the last retreating ant into the depths of Mushi’s collar. “Are those robots or real?”

“Both, Madame.” Mushi blinked hard as the vizor slid free. “I am instructed to remain as your first hostage. I do meet your requirements.”