"Alright everyone," said Thorny, speaking to a small gathering of engineers in a wide expanse of tunnel that stretched under the anthill entrance. "We're going to have to be especially careful with the boulder. The basic idea is that we're going to drag the rock-" He gestured to a large, round boulder that had been lugged up earlier by a group of foragers. "-into the entrance. This should seal the ant hill off from any outsiders during the night. Is everybody ready?"
It was dusk, and many of the ants stared at Thorny with bleary eyes. Despite their apparent exhaustion at having been roused for work when they were about to go to bed, they managed to say in chorus, "Absolutely!" though there was little actual energy behind it. Most of them could only see Thorny's antennae, due to the councilor's short stature.
Many ants kept one wary eye on Flik, who stood at the head of the group. They had not quite forgotten the numerous other times that Flik's plans went awry.
Flik, however, was completely confident that the boulder would work. He had specially designed it so that, if you were on the outside, you could not possibly get a good enough grip on the rock to pull it out. Even if the hornet used all of his strength, he could not possibly move it. The colony would finally be able to sleep in peace, without worrying about other insects lurking in the tunnels.
"I don't really see the big deal," muttered one engineer to the other. "If you ask me, there isn't any sort of intruder out there at all. It's just ants on late shifts getting the spooks."
Flik was about to correct them, but remembered that everything they went over in council was confidential.
"How's it going over here, Thorny?" asked a feminine voice coming out from a chamber further down the tunnel. Queen Atta.
"We're just about to move the boulder in place now, your highness," said Thorny. He jumped on top of a small, protruding root so that he could better oversee the group.
"Great," she replied. Flik caught her eye and she smiled. Her irritation with Flik from yesterday was almost completely gone. "Maybe I can help out."
Thorny paused, and, after fiddling with his abacus for a moment, nodded. "Sure, we have room for one more. Everyone to their positions!" He hopped off the root and climbed onto the outside of the anthill.
Flik followed him, and was temporarily blinded by the glare of the setting sun. Shading his eyes, he turned towards the boulder and was slightly daunted by its sheer size. The rock itself was more than five millimeters in diameter, and the smoothness of its surface would make it difficult for them to get a good grip to pull it into the entrance.
Thorny took up his position, and everyone followed. Flik stood in the middle, gripping at a slight depression in the rock, and readied himself. Atta took up the spot next to him. Flik, very aware of her proximity, felt himself blush.
"On three!" called Thorny. "One...two-"
"Wait, hold on!" Flik yelled, letting go of the boulder and sprinting around the rock to where the markings were. "Hold on, I've thought of something."
"What now?" an engineer grumbled. "This shouldn't be taking so long. Just pull the rock in, and we can all go to bed..."
"Flik?" Atta asked, furrowing her brows.
"I just had an idea," said Flik excitedly. He paced wildly back and forth, developing his plan even while he talked about it. "We might be able to solve our problem without bothering with the boulder anymore."
Thorny, who had just come around, said, "I know you get a lot of ideas, Flik, but the boulder should work just fine-"
"No, it has nothing to do with that!" said Flik. He picked up a nearby stick and pointed to the various markings on the ground. "We can communicate with the hor- with it!"
"Why would we want to do that?" asked Thorny gruffly. Atta remained silent, waiting for Flik to elaborate. "We already know what he wants. You."
"But wait," continued Flik. "What if we can talk them out of it?" He turned to Atta. "Can we bring Cornelius up here. Maybe he could write a message and then leave it here. When it comes during the night, it'll see the message and respond."
Thorny eyed Atta expectantly.
"Well..." said Atta slowly. "I don't see how it could hurt."
"Thanks Atta! I'll get Cornelius now!" declared Flik, practically leaping into the air. He gave her a swift kiss on the cheek and then ran back down the tunnel.
Atta touched her cheek - the place where Flik had kissed her - and smiled. Flik was really sweet when he was not obsessing over his inventions.
Thorny blinked twice, then looked from Atta, to the tunnel where Flik had ran, and then back to Atta. He tilted his head, asking a silent question. "Your highness?" he asked.
"I suppose we should give the engineers a break until Cornelius arrives," said Atta, pretending not to notice Thorny's inquisitive expression.
When Thorny realized that he was not going to receive a response, he nodded. "There isn't any reason not to."
Atta lightly flew into the air and landed on top of the boulder. She felt the wing muscles in her back stretch from the exercise, and it never failed to relax her after spending hours in the cramped corridors of the ant hill. Being Queen involved many more sessions with the council and much less physical activity. She dreaded the day when, like her mother, she would lose use of her wings.
"Alright everybody," she said. The engineers turned towards her wearily. "We're going to delay the project for a moment. Rest while you can."
She turned to face the sun, beginning to feel nervous. Only a thin crescent was visible above the horizon, throwing red streaks of light across the sky. It would not be long before darkness enveloped the surface, and then the insect - the hornet - would be out on the prowl.
Why only at night? she asked herself.
"Your highness?" Thorny said from below. "We don't have much time. I don't want to risk anyone by staying out here after dark."
"I understand, Thorny," replied Atta distantly, but her mind was elsewhere. She was still thinking of Flik.
Were the rumors she heard in the colony right? Could she and Flik never make it together? She understood his faults; his attachment to his inventions, his clumsiness, and his tendency to make bad situations worse. But she also loved his bravery and the fact that he would never surrender his beliefs.
It was going to be difficult, she realized, but she was confident that they would be able to work past their mutual faults and find happiness.
What did it matter what the others thought? She knew what she saw in Thorny's face. Mingled surprise and disbelief. He had never expected them to be public. This, perhaps, was the perfect representation of how the colony viewed her and Flik's relationship.
Thorny, on the other hand, was waiting impatiently for Flik to return with Cornelius. He never ceased to be amazed by Flik's sporadic ideas, and this one proved to be no exception. Talk with the hornet? Could this really be resolved diplomatically? His extensive experience in dealing with the grasshoppers told him that this time Flik's efforts would be in vain.
But then, a hornet wasn't a grasshopper, was it?
Presently, Flik was emerging from the ant hill, his right arm hooked around Cornelius' left, supporting the elderly ant as they climbed through the tunnel. Cornelius' pale complexion looked out of place against the dark background.
"Now where is it?" Cornelius grumbled, released Flik's arm and limping over to where Thorny stood. Atta came down from the boulder and joined them.
"Right here," said Thorny, gesturing to the ground before him.
Cornelius leaned over the markings and squinted, tracing the lines with the tip of his cane. "Yes, these are the ones," he wheezed. "What does your highness wish for me to write?" He turned towards Atta, jutting his stick into the ground and leaning upon it heavily.
Atta glanced towards Flik, who seemed as though he was struggling with himself to remain silent.
"Tell it to stay away," said Flik. "Give it a warning."
"Stay away?" Cornelius snorted. "Decades ago, we wouldn't give warnings. We'd rouse half the colony and bring up spears-"
"But this is today, not 'decades ago,'" Atta said with somewhat unnecessary sharpness. "I'm not going to risk losing any ants to this hornet. And tell it that we're not going to give up Flik, either."
Muttering to himself, Cornelius picked a clear space of ground and began etching into it with his cane. He had to stop and correct himself several times before he finished it, and when he stepped back, a series of drawn lines were clearly visible in the dirt. They weren't as deep as the hornet's, however, but bold enough to gain attention.
"There," said Cornelius at length. "That should catch his attention."
"And if that doesn't," added Thorny. "Then the sealing of the ant hill will. He'll get the general idea when he sees that the entrance is blocked."
"Then let's get started."
"Alright boys," Thorny boomed, rousing the engineers. "Let's get this over with. You two, come with me, we'll navigate the boulder so it comes in smoothly."
With some difficulty, the ants managed the squeeze the rock into the tunnel, effectively sealing it. When he finished, Flik stepped back, looked at their work, and felt a sense of security sweep over him. He had not realized how much the intrusions were bothering him until they had closed the tunnel. He never seemed to realize that it was he who was threatened. It was he who the hornet wanted.
"Flik?" said Atta, startling him from his thoughts. "You seem distracted." She stepped closer. "If it's about the hornet," she said quietly. "The colony is well defended, and we'll never give you up."
"No, it's not that," Flik said quickly. Of course, that was exactly what he was thinking about, but he did not want to admit that to Atta. "I was just thinking about the - err - drill."
Atta's eyes narrowed. "I see. Well, you'll be finishing it soon enough."
"Yeah, I suppose I will. Some parts still need be aligned and I'm still trying to solve some other problems. I need longer roots, and a few clover stems couldn't hurt, either. Not to mention that I'm not quite sure whether it will work at all." He realized he was rambling, but wanted to keep the topic of conversation away from hornets. "I suppose I should also add some safety features to this one too," he added with a nervous laugh.
His invention, like always, Atta thought. She sighed.
"Maybe," said Atta rather shortly. "I'm off to bed. I'll see you in the morning, Flik."
Atta was beginning to walk away when Flik suddenly had an idea. "Atta! Atta wait!" he called out, running after her and attracting the stares from the surrounding engineers.
Atta paused and turned around, slightly confused, watching as Flik ran up to her. She could not help but smile inwardly at the sight.
"Atta-" said Flik, and then stopped. Realizing what he was about to do, he was suddenly reluctant to do it. "Atta - uh -"
Atta, beginning to think that something was seriously wrong, touched his arm. "What's wrong Flik?"
"Oh - uh - I was wondering - uh - would you like to have dinner tomorrow night? I mean together."
If there were any ants that weren't watching the exchange a moment ago, they were now. They had all paused at what they were doing, or had found some excuse to stand idle nearby, and waited for Atta's response.
"Sure, Flik," Atta said, smiling. She could not help but think of the irony in the fact that she had asked Flik the same question earlier that very day.
"When would you like to?" he asked, surprising himself by managing to complete the phrase without an interrupting "uhhhh" or "errrr." How strange it was, he thought, that he could kiss her on the cheek without embarrassment, but asking her to dinner was difficult at best.
"When the sun is just below the lowest limbs of the tree would be fine."
"That's great for me too," said Flik instantly. "So I'll meet you by the main root spiral?"
"Alright," she answered.
"Then I'll see you tomorrow," Flik said. "Good night, Atta."
"Good night, Flik."
Atta, trying to retain an outward impression that nothing unusual had occurred, went back to her chambers, though she could not help but betray her emotions through a smile on her face. The engineers that she had left behind gossiped unabashedly, amazed by Flik's question and even more amazed by Atta's response.
Flik, oblivious to everything as he watched Atta walk away, turned when she was out of sight and went down an adjoining tunnel, feeling as though he was on the top of the world.
OOO
The wind rushed around his antennae, burning him, as he landed onto the soft earth. The pain slowly subsided, though it never truly dissipated. A slight gust of wind or a few stray dust particles could cause a new flare of agony for him without warning. Even the most acute sensation was easily amplified by his antennae a million times, which translated into severe pain. It was unbearable.
Right now, however, his antennae felt almost pleasant. For a blessed moment, he was able to forget them completely, but a slight change in the humidity spoiled that. He bared his teeth and struggled forward.
He climbed the anthill, pausing sometimes to listen. He had become much more cautious, as he realized that the ants were becoming terrified because of his presence. He smelled it in the air. They had even posted sentries, which he had blundered onto the previous night. He would not make the same mistake twice.
He realized with growing anxiety that he had accomplished nothing since coming here. He wished he had not thought about it. Anxiety never mixed well with the pain in his head, his bowels, his legs.
Coming to the entrance, he was surprised to find that a large rock blocked his path. He put his hands against it, pushed, then pulled, and was disappointed to find that it was quite secure. It had not even budged.
Blind anger frothed into his head, forming a pool in the center of his brain. He snarled and kicked the boulder furiously. A sharp pain stabbed at his foot, but he did not care. He paced, muttering, raving. He wanted to find something he could capture and shred and kill.
His plan was foiled. His chances were eliminated. He was finished now…doomed to his half-existence.
The wind picked up, blowing wildly against his antennae, and pure, undiluted pain flooded his senses. He let out a shriek, falling to his knees and clutching his head. It was so intense that he could barely see.
His thoughts became jumbled and incoherent. If anyone had happened to have crossed him at that moment, he would have most certainly attacked them in a blind frenzy. He slammed at the ground with his foot, trying to shut out the screaming signals his antennae were forcing into his brain.
At last the wind died down, and he was left in a heap, still fuming. He got to his feet, cleared his head somewhat, and let out a breath. He would have to try again, he realized. And again, and again, even if it meant the death of him.
When his vision returned, he crouched close to the ground, preparing to leap into flight. As he did so, however, he saw a pattern of symbols not far from him. He stepped closer, peered down into the soil, and tried to force his aching mind into action. It was a message. It was crude and halting, but he could read it.
Stay away.
His fury crested once more. He smashed and smeared the characters until they were illegible, and then, using his stinger, he began to write.
OOO
The morning's fog shrouded the surrounding plantlife from view, making it only possible to see the stretch of bare dirt that surrounded the anthill like a moat. It was cold, moisture was heavy in the air, and Atta wanted nothing more than to go back inside, curl up in her bed of dried leaves and flower petals, and sleep the day away.
Of course, her duty as a Queen would not permit that.
"Is Cornelius here yet, Thorny?" she asked, rubbing her elbows. The occasional cool breeze, the oppressive silence, and the strange message on the ground all served to make her uneasy and slightly nervous. She looked into the fog, wondering if the hornet was out there, perhaps sleeping, perhaps not.
She had never seen a hornet before, but she could remember hearing stories from Cornelius. She could imagine it towering over her, a bulky head that connected to a compact thorax, and then a tapering abdomen which ended in a curling stinger that dripped with a paralyzing venom. Being strict militarists and carnivores, they had made a living out of war.
She wished Flik was there.
Thorny shook his head. They were the only ones out there, having woken up earlier than the rest of the colony to examine the outside of the ant hill. "Not yet, your highness. Dr. Flora doesn't like us rousing him from his bed like this. His old age…"
"I know," Atta said quietly. "But we have to know what it says."
She looked warily to the sky, not at all comfortable with being enveloped in fog. Raindrops were known to fall sporadically, and, while these were not nearly as big as the drops in a rainstorm, they were still dangerous.
At last Cornelius arrived with Dr. Flora at his side, looking miserable, his limp especially pronounced. Dr. Flora was shaking her head, making known her opposition towards Cornelius leaving his bed. Atta decided that, unless he improved greatly, she would never summon him except in the most dire of emergencies.
"Yes, your highness?" Cornelius asked. He sounded weak and tired.
Atta suddenly wished she hadn't asked Cornelius to be present. He looked older than ever, and it unsettled her to see the councilour – who had always given the appearance of stubborn vigor – wither away before her eyes.
"We have another message," replied Atta. "Longer, from the looks of it."
The little blood left in Cornelius' face drained away. "That's never a good omen. When hornets decide to retreat, they do so silently. Where is it?"
Thorny and Atta led Cornelius to the area where, the night before, they had written the warning. The message they had left was gone, and replacing it was a scrawl of various crooked lines. They were broad and crude, as though the strokes were made in a fit of rage. The soil was moistened with dew, and as Cornelius extended his cane to trace the markings, some of the edges chipped and collapsed.
"Why does he outline the markings with his cane?" Thorny whispered to Dr. Flora.
"He can't see," she answered. "Cornelius is nearly blind, and using his cane helps him tell what it says."
Atta, however, had both eyes transfixed on Cornelius, trying to read from his expression the contents of the message the hornet had left them. From what she saw, she knew that it could not be good. His cane trembled in his hand.
"It says-" Cornelius began, as though unsure how to present the informaiton. "It says: No, he will not leave. Give Flik or he will begin to kill."
A heavy silence followed, and Atta shut her eyes. Her worst fears were confirmed. They were indeed dealing with a savage insect, who, for unknown reasons, wanted Flik, and was willing to kill to get him.
"It's an empty threat," said Thorny. "He could not possibly get past the entrance. We have the boulder blocking it during the night."
"But if he decides to come during the day…"
"Then we'll stop him," Thorny said. "We'll get spears. He's only one hornet-"
"Hornets never work alone!" Cornelius exclaimed with a surprising show of strength. He shook his cane violently in the air to emphasize his point. "They never do! There's never one outside the shadow of three others. We're dealing with another colony, not a renegade group of grasshoppers. If we don't tread carefully the entire colony could be in jeapordy!"
"But we don't know if there is more than one," Thorny argued. "There's no evidence to suggest that there are multiple hornets. Besides, this one has only come at night. Sounds fishy to me. I think we're dealing with a rogue who's trying to intimidate us."
"Do you really want to risk that, Thorny?" Atta asked. "And even if your theory was correct, what would a rogue want with Flik?"
Thorny fell silent, having been thoroughly chastened.
For a moment no one spoke, and then Atta asked, "Cornelius, what do you remember about the hornets?"
"They used to be two trees down from Ant Island," Cornelius wheezed. "They often sent us messengers, asking if we ever saw anything unusual on the island. Scouts, spies, and the like. We never did."
"They never bothered us, and now, looking back, I can see why. We unwittingly acted as a sort of barrier to any invading insects. Hornets…they're brutal. I was the one who had to deal with their messengers, and I've never – before or since – met stranger insects. Only a very few were permitted to speak, and, apparently, even fewer had names. They were all numbered…the 733rd, the 1,569th. From what I gathered, the number was based on the number of births. For example, the very first hornet born during the season was called the First, the 545th hornet born during the season was called the 545th, and so on. This is a good idea, I suppose, if you're dealing with a very large military. Names and communication rights were doled out as rewards."
"Strict, aren't they?" Thorny asked, sounding slightly incredulous.
Cornelius merely turned towards him and stared.
Atta sighed and gazed into the fog. It was dissipating slightly, but not much. She might have to delay the day's foraging for an hour until it cleared, she thought vaguely.
Turning, she looked at the boulder, hoping that it would not fail them. More than that, she desperately wanted Thorny to be right. If hornets were as vicious as Cornelius said they were…
Her mother had once told her that Queens had to be outwardly optomistic and inwardly pessimistic. The colony should not worry itself needlessly, but the Queen should always make precautions. The Queen could never expect things to turn out for the best.
"Why?" Atta had once asked.
"Because," said the Queen. "If there's one thing that pessimists love being, it's being wrong."