The cool rush of air around his antennae felt good as he buzzed through the air, searching for the anthill that he knew was below him. It was the dead of night, and although the moon was dim in the sky, the few rays of light that it produced irritated and burned his oversensitive antennae, making them feel like two sticks of fire atop his head.

He scanned the ground once more, looking for anything recognizable. Nothing. He grew frustrated and swerved violently to the left, renewing his search in another direction.

His antennae twitched as his antennae smelled and tasted the air around him, soaking everything in like a sponge. Despite the pain that this action cause, he could tell that it was approximately 72 degrees Fahrenheit and that he had about five hours left before he absolutely had to seek cover. But, most importantly, there wasn't the faintest trace of ant in the air. He had to be going the wrong way.

He swerved away, cursing. His handicaps made it almost impossible for him to navigate efficiently, and his sense of direction was poor at best. The constant ache that gnawed at his gut made him constantly irritable, sometimes even furious. His mood swings came and went with the pain in his bowels.

He sniffed the air again, this time with some success. He could detect a hint of ant northward. Instantly he swung around and went into a dive, rushing, impatient and elated.

A sharp pang in his thorax, extending all the way to his abdomen, told him that the spurt of speed had sucked up much of his energy reserves. He needed food. Unless he found a source of protein before daybreak, he would starve. This only served to shorten his temper further. He had already made up his mind to snatch the first living thing he saw and then impale it with his curved stinger, and then devour it in short order.

Putting aside his trivial instincts, he focused on his goal. The scent of ant was growing stronger as he traveled, so he knew that he had to be close. Seeing and recognizing the clover beneath him, he took another deep breath, and was rewarded with the bitter smell of an anthill.

At last he saw it. Seeming to glow in the pale moonlight, the mound stood near a protruding root from a giant, overhanging tree. In the daytime it was swarming with masses of ants, all going about their daily business, ignorant of anything outside of their little world. At the moment it was lifeless and dead, and there wasn't a single sign of movement. Not even a sentry.

Then again, he thought, there never was. Why should it be any different this time?

He struck the ground on all six feet, ignoring the sharp pain that stung his joints, and then straightened. He peered into the surrounding darkness, looking for any sort of spiders or bats. As usual, there was nothing. There were never any threats to him on Ant Island.

His antennae twitching, his pressed forward, being careful not to inadvertently buzz his wings. The scent of ant was so strong that he could smell it without even trying.

A gust of wind blew over him, rattling the branches in the tree, and then settled. Glancing upward for any falling leaves or sticks, he continued, not stopping. He had to act quickly.

He paused at a sudden sound. His antennae went rigid and he crouched to the ground. His right leg bent at an awkward angle and he nearly shouted out in pain. Inwardly berating himself for his lapse, he eased the leg down and listened. He wanted to kill whatever had made the noise. He considered few things a threat, but that did not stop him from wishing to devour anything that he came across.

He suspected that the ants were indeed expecting him this time, and he readied himself to leap into the air if he sensed a trap. Perhaps he had miscalculated them. Perhaps all of his attempts were going to be in vain.

When he was satisfied that he was not immediately threatened, he got to his feet and, using even more of his precious energy reserves, scanned the area for life. He smelled nothing but the usual flood of ant, and he tasted nothing unusual in the air.

Every particle of his body was screaming for nourishment, and there was nothing that he could satiate it with. The ant smell was driving him crazy, and his primal instincts told him to play the part of the predator. He clenched and unclenched his hands, feeling the fury take him over.

Struggling for control, he climbed the anthill and went to work.

OOO

"Flik?" Atta stepped into the chamber and looked around at the clutter of failed inventions. Various broken wheels and spinning contraptions laid about in no particular order, and she could not even begin to imagine the possible use of half of the machines laying around. Flik was kneeling on the far side of the room, fiddling with some roots that were attached to a gigantic, cone-like instrument.

"Queen Atta!" exclaimed Flik, jumping up into the air and almost knocking his head off the side of his latest invention.

"I told you never to call me that," Atta said, laughing slightly. "It's just Atta. What are you making?"

"Oh, sorry Qu- I mean Atta," Flik stammered.

She stepped closer and lightly kissed him. "Now what are you making?"

"Oh, right!" said Flik, letting go of her and hurrying back over to the cone. He pointed excitedly at it, as though he was showing off his favorite toy. "You know how we always have droughts in the summer and can never seem to get enough water? Well this is a drill. All I have to do is fix a few of these roots and-"

Caught up in his own passion, Flik picked up the loose root and began twisting it, apparently trying to make it tighter.

"I see," said Atta, smiling. "How has-"

"All it does really is dig into the ground," interjected Flik, utterly oblivious to everything. "You see, I have this theory that there is water underground. There has to be, right?"

Atta listened patiently, though she was slightly irritated at having been interrupted.

"I got the idea when it was raining," continued Flik. "I mean, all that water has to go somewhere. After all, we're always reinforcing the tunnels to keep them from collapsing because of the moisture. I think it all settles somewhere underneath us."

"I never thought about it that way," said Atta lightly. "I was wondering, Flik, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

"Okay, I agree," said Flik, making no sign that he had heard her. He finished twisting the root and was now tying it back. "You see, the drill works by spinning rapidly, churning up the ground beneath us. If we go deep enough, I'm sure we'll hit water. I'm still not sure how we could bring the water back up, but I don't think that's much of a problem."

Atta crossed her arms and asked, "Really? What time tonight, then?"

"Yeah, isn't it though?" said Flik, tightening the root. "It only took a couple weeks, too. I had to get some acorn stems, but that wasn't too much of a problem."

"I wouldn't suppose you would mind if I invited Thumper over too," she said, her eyes slowly narrowing. "I heard he makes great dinner conversation."

"Sounds great," Flik said vacantly. "But just think of all the time this is going to save us. The summers won't be so bad anymore, and it'll solve the problem Dr. Flora has every year with ants collapsing from fatigue." He paused, as though recalling something. "Say, how's Dot doing? I heard she's advancing rank in the Blueberry's."

"She's doing great, Flik," said Atta shortly.

Flik missed the subtle annoyance in her voice. "And the colony? Are we still producing record harvests?"

"Perhaps you could leave your invention for a moment and see."

"Well," said Flik, glancing once more towards the drill. "I suppose I will this evening."

Atta tried hard not to roll her eyes. "We've had another sighting, Flik."

"Again?" Flik said, turning towards her. Alarm had entered his voice. "Do we even know what it is? No one is...dead...right?"

"No," replied Atta. "There was a close call, however. It apparently tried to attack one of the new guards we stationed below the anthill entrance. Fortunately, the guard escaped and called for help. By the time the rest of the guards arrived, the intruder was already gone."

Flik sat on the ground and rubbed his forehead. "It's bizarre. What does it want?"

"No one knows," said Atta. "And we haven't been able to decipher the marks it leaves behind on the mound, either. Mr. Soil is trying his best, though."

"I'm sure he'll be able to figure out something," Flik said, though he did not sound confident at all. "What're we going to do in the meantime?"

Atta was beginning to wonder where exactly this conversation was headed. "Station more guards so that we feel safe. If this happens for another week, we'll try to get outside help."

Flik remembered with a slight grin the last time they had attempted to get outside help. He wondered what ever happened to the Circus Bugs. He had not seen them since they left last spring. There had not been word from them since, though he had once received a letter from Manny detailing the places they have been traveling to.

"Oh," added Atta. "And you've received some requests, as usual."

Flik's antennae perked up. 'Requests' were usually from bugs in the city, who, having heard about the recent success of Flik's various inventions, often contacted him, asking him to design various machines for a substantial reward. One bug once asked him to make a flying machine. Another asked him to make a machine to make the sun rise earlier. Despite his failures, he had earned the reputation of working miracles in regards to creating machines and solving problems, and it was not unusual for him to receive requests from eight or nine trees away. His reputation in the colony, however, remained much the same, with a few exceptions, one of them being, ironically, Thorny.

"I'll read those later," Flik said, not quite ready to leave his invention. He was so close to finishing it that he could taste it. "No rush. Not with Hopper gone, anyway. We seem to have time for just about anything now."

"Mmmmm," said Atta neutrally. She was repeatedly amazed at the ironic turns this conversation was having.

"But this drill still takes up most of my time," said Flik, his old excitement building once more. "I'm so close to finishing it. Soon it can be put into use. After Thorny inspects it, of course." He strode back towards the enormous drill, pointing out its features.

"And Flik, you're going to need to be in the Council Chambers at dusk," said Atta, sighing inwardly. Maybe everyone was right, she thought. Maybe Flik and her simply couldn't work.

"All I have to do is tweak a few other parts," said Flik, all of his attention now dedicated to his invention. "And it'll be ready. I don't want to push it through. It might malfunction and cause some very serious problems with the anthill's structure. Atta, do you remember that one time when-"

But when he looked around for Atta, she was gone.

OOOO

Flik entered the Council Chambers hesitantly, hoping that no one would notice the fact that he was ten minutes late. But as soon as he stepped into the light, every head at the large, mushroom platform situation on the far end of the chamber turned towards him.

"Great to see you, Flik!" said Thorny, being the first one to speak. His voice, echoing off the walls, seemed strange against the previous silence. "Been working on that invention of yours, have you? Well, that's all right, I suppose. We were just beginning, anyway."

All eyes turned to Atta, and she nodded slowly.

"We were just reviewing the colony's status," Atta said, and she smiled back when Flik beamed up at her. "And particularly the recent problem with security."

"Or lack thereof," muttered Mr. Soil.

"Since you ten to think - how should I say it? - outside of the box," said Thorny. "We thought you might be able to help us." He paused, reviewing everyone in the room. "Has anyone seen Cornelius?"

"He's out sick again," Dr. Flora said. "I believe his old age is catching up with him."

The council members exchanged dark looks. Cornelius had been confined to his chamber for the past week, and rumors were beginning to circulate that the old ant was barely hanging onto life.

"Well, we'll just have to proceed without him," said Atta. "Dr. Flora, could you relay everything we go over in this meeting with him? And wish him good health."

Flik watched Atta, thinking that she handled herself well. She was controlling the council, not the other way around.

"Back to the subject at hand," continued Atta. "We're going to have to take steps against the interloper. It's scaring the workers and foragers, and they're coming to work deprived of sleep." She paused, then added, "And it's not just the workers..."

"Do you have any suggestions, your highness?" asked Mr. Soil.

"I want to recruit more guards and place them at the entrance with thorn spears in groups of no less than three," Atta said, sounding as though she was reciting from a slip of paper.

"I respectfully disagree," said Thorny, shaking his head. "I think we're all in agreement that this situation needs to be addressed, but I believe your plan is inadequate. Your placing ant lives at risk. And besides, we're not fighters. There's no guarantee that the guards could even fight the intruder off. This situation can turn bad very easily."

Atta, surprised by the response, did not quite recover. She tapped the ends of her fingers together and said, "Well, perhaps we should find out what it wants, first. Mr. Soil, have you made any progress yet?"

Mr. Soil shook his head. "None at all, your highness. These markings are unlike anything I've ever seen. I've written copies. If you could all take a model of what we're seeing..."

He drew a sheaf of parchment, and began passing them out to every council member. When Flik received his, he unfolded it and stared at it. The markings were nothing more than straight lines crossing over one another, as though someone had taken a stick and had repeatedly swiped at the ground.

"We're obviously dealing with another insect," Thorny said quietly. "Judging from these marks, it's quite large. I don't believe any security detail would be adequate."

"If I may interrupt for a moment," Dr. Flora began. "I would like to ask all members of the council to not spread these drawings. If anyone should see them, we may have a full blown panic on our hands."

"It's at least as big as a grasshopper, probably bigger," said Mr. Soil. "It's far too big for any ant to have made."

"Bigger than a grasshopper?" whispered Atta. The paper trembled in her hands. "You mean it could be-"

"There's no reason to become alarmed, your highness," said Thorny, though his own expression showed apprehension. "So far, it's harmed no one. But it can't hurt to be cautious."

Flik was beginning to run ideas through his head. Against something of such size, it would be best if they could simply evade the insect rather than confront it. What could they do? No invention could possibly work. He began pacing wildly, and Atta watched him as he went back and forth, practically ignoring the other councilors.

"-There must be another solution-"

"-Thorny, that couldn't possibly work. How would we sustain it?"

"-impossible-"

Flik paced faster.

"Your highness?" Thorny said, breaking Atta from her trance. "Could you hear my suggestion, and then Dr. Flora's, and then tell us which you feel would be more suitable?"

"Alright..." Atta said uncertainly.

"Great," said Thorny. "I want to set up a giant model of a bird near our anthill-" He gestured wildly in the air, as though planning the project. "-It would take my engineers a while, but when it's finished, I believe that it would deter the insect from approaching us. It worked for the grasshoppers, didn't it? Well, until it crashed and burned, but that's beside the point..."

"I feel we are better off finding help from the city," said Dr. Flora, folding her arms.

"It would take far too long," countered Thorny.

Both turned expectantly towards the Queen, but Atta only managed, "Uhhhhhhh...well..."

"I apologize for my tardiness," called out an elderly voice from across the chamber. A badly limping figure wielding a cane marched across the floor, muttering to himself the entire time. Flik grinned when he saw it was Cornelius. "How far into the meeting are we?"

Upon closer examination, Flik saw that the oldest councilman was indeed losing his energy. His back was a little more bent, and face was pale and sickly. He looked as though he had just managed to crawl out from his bed for the first time in a year.

Dr. Flora looked slightly taken aback by Cornelius' presence. "About halfway, I'd say."

"Good, then," he grumbled. "Let me have one of those sheets." He took a spare copy from Mr. Soil and examined it closely, squinting the entire time. "Well, what do we have here?"

"What can you make of it Cornelius?" asked Mr. Soil curiously.

Cornelius continued to mutter, and eventually limped over to his section of the mushroom table and set it flat onto the counter. He leaned over it, tracing the lines with his finger. His breath hitched in his throat.

"This can't be right," Cornelius said. He turned to the thespian. "Where did you find these, Mr. Soil?"

"They were outside of the anthill, Cornelius."

"Great tree above," Cornelius said, backing away from the paper. "This is the writing of a hornet. They haven't been on Ant Island for decades! This can't be right."

Atta looked as though her worst fears were confirmed. "Okay, now, what can we do to stop it?"

"It?" echoed Cornelius, his mouth twisting into a grin. "Not it. Them. Where there's one hornet there's a thousand. At least in most cases. We should hope we're dealing with only a rogue. Now what is going on?"

Quickly, with many interruptions, Atta outlined the intruder's behavior and the effect it was having on the colony.

"Strange," said Cornelius, rubbing his chin. "They are usually more direct than that. And hornets never come at night. Frankly, I don't know what you can do. In my day we used to deal with them on a daily basis, but the last I heard they moved down twenty trees. The best I could do is translate."

"Well," said Mr. Soil eagerly. "What does it say?"

Cornelius took one, long look at the paper, and then said, "It says: Give Flik."

A dead silence fell over the chamber, and Flik froze in his spot. He was not sure whether he believe his hearing. Atta stared at him, horrified, shock clearly written on her face. The rest of the council members looked at him with equal amounts of terror, obviously unsure of what to do. The only sound was Cornelius' long, wheezing breaths.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dr. Flora whispered.

""I think it's quite clear," said Thorny indignantly. "He wants us to give Flik to him."

"What for?"

"Who knows how hornets think."

"But how does this intruder - this hornet - even know Flik's name?"

That question brought pause to everyone.

"He must've been to the city, then," Flik said, his voice sounding very distant and out of place in the wide chamber. "I sometimes develop and send inventions back to the city. That must be where he, or they, heard."

"I think only one thing is clear at this point," Atta announced. "We're not going to give Flik over to anyone." Several nods and grunts of approval met this statement.

"So we're back to the same question," Thorny said. "What're we going to do?"

"Well, Flik," said Atta, turning to him. "Do you have any ideas?"

Flik seemed to ponder her question for a moment, and then answered, "Why don't we just seal the anthill entrance during the night?"

The council erupted with chatter, and several positive notes rose above the din. Flik managed to catch Atta's eye and winked.

Thorny clapped his hands together. "That would work! Brilliant!"

Even Cornelius, who was the most critical of Flik, nodded in approval.

"Then it's settled," said Atta, still smiling. "We'll seal the tunnel every night and dusk, and then open it at dawn. All in favor raise your hands."

To Flik's pleasure, five hands shot up into the air.