(A/N: Not dead!)

Flik set the leaf-scrolls on the mushroom table in his quarters before pulling up a chair that was woven with green, flexible twigs. He spread them out, looking over each message, carefully considering them and their feasibility.

These were the 'requests' that he received periodically from Bug City, asking Flik for a solution (preferably in mechanical form) to their problem. He was all too happy to help, provided that the inventions he was asked to make were not for any sort of war.

Flik never failed to be surprised that other bugs – bugs he once considered to be superior in some respects – would go to him for help. It had all begun so abruptly.

Since the grasshoppers were thrown out from Ant Island last fall, the colony was producing record harvests, and the excess grain usually went to the city for trade. It so happened that some of the city bugs began asking how Ant Island was producing so much grain so quickly, especially since most of the other colonies were barely beginning to pick the grain's first yield.

The foragers told the bugs of Flik's harvesting machine, and received skeptical looks in return, as if the ants were lying. So, the next time the ants came to sell grain at Bug City, they brought along one of the machines to prove it.

One the city insects offered to buy the machine on the spot, and several others raised bids. The ants, slightly overwhelmed by the response, politely refused. The city bugs, however, were not so easily satisfied. They asked who designed the contraption, and the ants answered, wanting to satiate the bugs' curiosity so that they could continue to sell grain. The resulting fallout was something none of them could have foreseen.

Soon after, Flik began receiving orders for a "Harvesting Machine," the buyers offering lucrative sums of grain for only a single prototype. Flik, who hardly believed that the colony was actually accepting his ideas, was startled to see that outsiders were interested in his inventions as well. While the colony scarcely needed any more grain, he sold a few, and the city bugs were so impressed that they asked him if he had any other ideas for inventions.

And, of course, ideas were something that he had plenty of.

He sold a mechanical lift to a group of construction bugs. He also designed and sold a conveyor belt to a well-known distributor of flower petals and other household commodities. When Flik received an order from a struggling ant colony desperate for a way to become more efficient, he waived the grain fee and sent them a small fleet of Harvesting Machines. Frankly, the satisfaction he got from creating each invention was payment enough. He cared little for the grain.

Flik's inventions had met with mixed reactions. The vast majority was deemed to be "miraculous," and "ingenious." A very few had some flaw that he had missed, resulting in the inventions failing when put into action. These instances were rare, and he always went back to repair the inventions and compensate for any damages done.

Then there were the more…unusual requests. Pleas from insects – mostly stricken with poverty – to create some impossible invention, or fix some illness as though he was a healer. Flik could only assume that they had no other place to turn, and were clinging to some baseless (and, in many ways, cruel) rumor that he could somehow fix the insect body as thought it was just another machine.

Today, Flik was fortunate. There were no such 'requests' in the mail load. Just the usual orders for existing inventions and some for inventions not yet created.

While he was not at all disappointed with the turnout, there was one piece that was lacking. Flik still had not received any word from the Circus Bugs. While they had promised to come back next season, they had not, and Flik was becoming concerned. The last he heard from them was in late spring when they had apparently gone along with a business venture arranged by P.T. What happened to them?

Flik sighed and set the leaf-sheets aside. He would have to work on them later. Right now there were several more ideas that he wanted to implement into the drill, and there was no room for any side projects. In a few days he could begin to brainstorm, but until then he would have to concentrate on his newest invention.

Flik couldn't wait to finish it. The drill would be the answer to many of the water problems the colony encountered during the dry summer months. He was sure that they would find water if they dug deep enough. And when this happened, Flik could almost envision the last lingering remnants of doubt the colony held against him vanishing; he could see Atta glowing with pride; he could see himself – with added support – planning even more projects to help the colony.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Atta strode down the residential tunnels, making a right at the curling blue mushroom, hardly aware of her surroundings. She could still remember the words they had discovered that morning, written crudely before the heavy boulder blocking the anthill's entrance.

"No he will not leave, " Cornelius had read from the ground. "Give Flik or he will begin to kill."

Who and what are we dealing with? she wondered. It was the question that had plagued her since the beginning. She accepted Cornelius' belief that hornets were involved as the best theory they had. But still, the largest and most confusing piece of the puzzle remained.

What did they – presuming there was more than one – want with Flik?

Flik's newfound fame had attracted all sorts of unusual and eccentric insects, many of which were more or less harmless. Certainly they had never encountered anyone who threatened violence.

While the invader's ultimate intentions for Flik were unclear, its behavior so far left Atta no choice but to believe that it meant harm. Why else would it only come at night, leaving behind vague messages underlined with threatened violence? Classic intimidation tactics.

She remembered the conversation she had had with her mother a moment ago that had led her to this conclusion.

"This isn't an easy situation you're in, Atta," the retired Queen had said from her bedside, giving Aphie a bit of raspberry. "But you must remember: your first, last, and only priority is the colony. How easy do you think it would be for this problem to escalate into something far worse?" Slowly, she set the aphid aside, turning back to face her daughter with an unusually grave expression. "How are you regarding this thing – this hornet?"

"I don't know," said Atta. "I don't know why it wants Flik, I don't even know if it really is a hornet."

The old Queen frowned. "Then you must see it as an enemy." She lifted Aphie back onto her lap, stroking him. "It may be hard for you to understand at first, Atta, but anything that does not help the colony must be an enemy."

"That would make much of the world our enemy!"

"Yes it would," said the Queen. "But you can have truces with enemies, you can ignore enemies, you can even have alliances with enemies. When the sun sets, however, they're always your enemies. It's a hard rule to understand and follow, but it keeps the colony alive and breathing."

Atta shook her head. "What does all that mean?"

"If you have a chance, destroy him."

Afterwards, it was difficult for her to understand why she hadn't come to the conclusion sooner. The invader had already threatened ant lives, presenting a clear danger to the colony. But something was nagging at the back of her mind, telling her that it could not possibly be so simple.

When Atta entered Flik's chamber, she pushed those lingering doubts from her mind. She had to be resolved for everyone in the colony. Everyone.

"Hi Flik, may I come in?"

Flik whirled in his seat, the motion causing the leaf sheets on his desk to sweep aside. "Oh, hi Atta! Sure!" He stood and guided her to a nearby mushroom chair.

"Thanks."

Flik took a seat nearby. "Sleep well?"

"No, actually," said Atta, remembering being woken at dawn to see the newly written message on the ground. The sun had just barely crept over the horizon when she had climbed onto the ant hill. "That's sort of why I came here, Flik," She began tapping the tips of her fingers together. "There's been another message."

"Oh," Flik's eyes went wide. "Oh! What- what did it say?"

"That we had to give you to him or he'll begin to kill," she said grimly. "But it's an empty threat. He couldn't possibly come after us in here."

"We're not sure there's only one, though."

"We're not sure of anything at this point," Atta said. "There'll be another council meeting this afternoon. Could you be there again?"

"Absolutely."

"Good. Since this heavily involves you-" The question ran through her mind: Why Flik? "-it's only right that you be present. Besides, we need as many fresh ideas as we can get."

"It's no problem," said Flik, then, hesitantly, he asked, "Are we still having dinner?"

"Of course," she said.

Atta let her eyes wander around the room, looking at the various gadgets Flik had left strewn throughout his chamber. Some, she was sure, were failed inventions, but that didn't detract her interest. Atta doubted that Flik ever threw out any of his unsuccessful inventions. There was one or two in the room that she was sure were abandoned months ago, and haven't been touched since.

It's amazing what he comes up with, she thought. And even more amazing that he's able to turn his ideas into a reality.

"Oh, that was supposed to grind grain," Flik said, following her gaze. He got to his feet and gingerly lifted the spindly object from where it was sprawled on a work desk. "The only problem was that, when it was used, grain would be thrown everywhere. It would make a total mess."

"You never tried fixing it?"

Flik paused. "I tried," he said at length, setting it back down. "But it simply wouldn't work right. Most of these are side projects. The drill, on the other hand, is what I've been focusing on."

Atta tried to keep her face as attentive as possible, but inwardly she was preparing herself for hearing what she had heard at least four times before. That miserable drill!

"I think I'll start testing it this evening, or tomorrow at the latest," continued Flik. "I will try to dig a few inches with it and see how it goes. Hopefully I won't run into any large rocks. Just think of it Atta! Access to water during even the hottest summer months!"

Atta gave him a skeptical look. "It is safe though, right?" She wiped her eyes and saw that there was a thin shower of dust falling from the ceiling. If it hadn't had irritated her eyes, she wouldn't have even noticed it.

Flik's expression turned thoughtful, as though he had never considered that question before. "It should be," he said finally. Then, looking around, he too saw the falling dust. "That's strange. I wonder-" He set the back of his hand against the wall and his eyes widened. "The wall is vibrating!"

Before Atta could speak, they both began to hear a low, slowly rising sound of buzzing wings. The sound brought back horrible memories of the grasshoppers coming to take the Offering while she and her mother hid within the ant hill.

The sound must've triggered a similar memory with Flik, as he turned to Atta and said, "You don't think-"

"No," Atta said immediately. "Hopper's gone. He's dead. The grasshoppers don't come here anymore…"

"Let's check the surface," Flik said. His eyes were wide with disbelief. "If there were- if grasshoppers were arriving- you know?" Without waiting for her to answer he dashed out the door, running up through the tunnels.

Atta followed close behind, barely aware of the confused ants that were standing outside of their chamber doors, throwing questions at her.

"What's going on?"

"What's that sound?"

I don't know! I don't know! Atta wanted to shout.

They sped through the winding corridors and ran up the corkscrew root that led to the entrance. More ants joined them as they went, some carrying spears. Atta had only a moment to reflect on how much the colony's attitude had changed over the past year before they climbed onto the surface and into the blinding light of the sun.

The buzzing became even louder, like the landing of a hundred grasshoppers.

Atta squinted as her eyes adjusting, trying desperately to see what was causing such noise. She half expected to see the dark shapes of winged insects coming from the horizon, but before she could get a good look, she was pulled away.

"Princess!" Thorny said, sounding close to panic. "They've only just arrived. The Council isn't supposed to deal with foreign matters. You're the only one with the authority."

"Authority?" Atta repeated. " Foreign matters? What's going on? What's all this about?"

"They don't seem hostile," continued Thorny quickly. "There are still ants out in the fields, and, as far as I know, no one's been harmed. I'm going to try to pull everyone back inside in a moment."

"Thorny what are you-"

She was cut off when Flik grabbed her arm and pointed towards the fringes of the bare patch of ground surrounding the ant hill.

"Hornets."

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

The 7,353rd landed on the ground with a practiced grace, his legs lightly touching the ground before his claws dug in to slow him to a halt. He heard rather than saw his troops mimic him, each line of them falling into the formation they had known since gestation.

It wasn't really necessary, he decided. Looking at the shocked and surprised expressions of the insects – ants, specifically – around him, he felt strangely relaxed. There was nothing here that could be considered a threat to the Hive. Nothing from the ants, anyway. He stretched his limbs and stepped into the sunlight.

His antennae tasted the air, finding it an earthy mixture of dirt, wood, and decaying leaves, with a sweet dash of flower thrown in. It made him nauseous, and discretely, he moved out of the way of the air current and under the shelter of a nearby clover, finding the coolness of its shade comforting after his long flight.

From his position, he watched the ants begin to group together and whisper, the topic obvious. The 7,353rd had no plans on approaching them – the earth dwellers. Custom dictated that they come to him. But now, after several uneventful moments, he was unsure if these ants were even aware of the custom.

It would not surprise him. The Hive's influence over its vast territories had been slowly waning. With the bitter war with the bees still raging on, the Hive had little time and fewer troops to devote to more domestic duties. And – what's more – the Hive was losing.

The 7,353rd silently cursed the weak, incompetent Center of the Hive, and turned his thoughts to his more immediate concerns. To his mission – probably the most important one of his life.

It wasn't an accident that such a mission was assigned to him. In fact, it had been the type of mission that he had been wanting for many seasons now. The type of mission that would throw him over the barricades and into the Hive's Center.

Had the current Center hornets not been obstructing him, the 7,353rd had no doubt that he would have already joined that war group. But the Center hornets were old and stubborn, and nothing – not even the bees' slow intrusion into the Hive's territory – could make them accept change.

It was the Queen that saw him and approached him, eventually contriving a plan that would circumvent the Center's blockades and guarantee him a position in high leadership. She knew that the Hive would not last another decade without a new change. Even though the simple, nearsighted fools in the Center didn't, she did.

This would be the last mission, he knew. After this, he would be given the Right of Strategy, the Right of High Command, and the Right of Title. The Center would no longer have any choice. There would be no more excuses or delays.

It was a small comfort to him to know that not even the Center could stop what was inevitable. It was inevitable that he would be the one to stop the bees in their tracks. It was inevitable that he would be the one to revamp the aging hornet armies. It was inevitable that he would earn a name and a section in the annals of the Hive's history.

Presently, the 7,353rd glanced over his troops, finding them all straight and silent. None of them had permission to speak. None had yet earned their Right to. Every last one of them knew their place in the world and none of them dared to be discontented.

The 7,353rd turned, and, seeing that the majority of the ants were still standing in their groups, huddling, began disliking the earth dwellers even more, all the more because he detected no fear or respect in their exchanges. The entire affair was becoming a waste of time. If he didn't think he would gain something from this exchange he would've signaled his troops and flown off.

At last, a small figure emerged from the ant hill, flanked by two others. Pricking his antennae he detected the unmistakable scent of royalty. Irritation at the whole formal procedure beginning to creep up on him, he stepped out from the clover's shade to make himself known.

The 7,353rd hated to deal with crawling insects. They weren't organized or clean, and even their cities were little more than rusted iron and cardboard thrown together in a heap. They were nothing like him and the others with wings, with homes of paper, created with a plan in mind. He viewed himself and the earth dwellers as living in two different worlds. One being civilized, and the other being barbaric. More than anything he wanted to keep his conversation with the ant Queen brief.

As she climbed down and hill and approached, the 7,353rd focused his eyes to receive a clearer picture of his opponent. She was young – probably new – and, judging from the slight faltering in her step, more than a little nervous. He planned on exploiting that weakness by adopting a strict and rigid pose, which he felt sure would be enough to intimidate her.

He looked over her again, this time for less than professional reasons. Not bad, he decided. For an earth dweller.

As she approached, the surrounding groups of ants stopped their whispering and tentatively followed behind her. The 7,353rd could not help but see the trailing earth dwellers as forming a sort of army, their Queen leading from the front. It was almost comical, in a strange way. Especially when their Queen was anything but confident.

"The Queen extends her greetings," the 7,353rd said in the earth dwellers' tongue when she finally stood before him. The tip of her antennae barely reached his thorax, and he had to stare down at her in an awkward fashion in order to make eye contact. "I, the 7,353rd born two seasons ago, will act as Her representative to this colony."

"I'm the Queen of Ant Island, Atta," she said, looking rather uncertain of herself.

A million questions were racing through her head. What are you doing here? What do you want? Are you the hornet who has been leaving the messages?

"Why are you- Why have come here, representative-" She stopped, realizing that she didn't have his name. "What should I call you?"

The 7,353rd blinked, not quite understanding. Was she trying to be insulting? He searched her face for sarcasm, but found none. What made her believe that he had earned a name? "I'm the 7,353rd born," he repeated.

Then he remembered. Earth dwellers did not need to earn their names. Rather, they had theirs since birth. Something like irritation stirred within him.

"Oh, right," Atta said, unsure of how to proceed. Her mother had never given her advice on how to deal with foreigners. What was she supposed to do? Having Flik by her side was a small comfort, but still, the size of the huge insect before her was intimidating.

"Take me to your council, Queen Atta," he said, stepping forward. "I have little time left for formalities."