-- Chapter Six: Snap! --
                                
             Don't think 'cos I understand, I care
          Don't think 'cos I'm talking, we're friends
                                         -- "6 Underground", Sneaker Pimps

     "What in the world--?!" One of the ants posted nearby ducked into the Jar
Chamber, where the shout and crash had come from only moments earlier. His
fellow guard ants were right behind him as he pushed the front door open.
     One of them actually had been a guard in his old hive, and knew not only that
throwing the door wide open like that was a bad thing, but also that any danger was
most likely to be right in front of you, instead of to the sides where the others
were looking. Thus, he was the only one to see the engaged large mouse, hoisting
one of the Jars over his head in an act of brute strength. He appeared to be cut
all over his arms, judging from the amount of blood-matted fur.
     Before a warning could be yelled, the mouse heaved the massive Jar as if it
were a paper cup, sending it sailing directly into the cluster of insects. The weight
of the heavy glass drove them into the ground, which was fortunately soft enough to
prevent them from being crushed. The one ant who saw the attack was able to react
quickly enough to dodge out of the way as the glass jar bounced off of his
now-unconscious compatriots, and continued to roll down into the rest of the complex.
     By now alarms were going off, and more troops were swarming to the scene.
The ant looked up as a group approached him, the leader shouting to him.
     "Router! What in Ant Hill is goin' on?!"
     Another series of rattles came from within the Jar Chamber. "In there, sir --
some mouse attacking!"
     "Well get in there, then!"
     Router, however, had survived enough Hive Wars to know better. "No sir. If
you think someone should go in, you do it. I'm not that suicidal."
     "What are you--"
     Router's instinct kicked in, and he managed to leap aside as the simple
outside wall, made from wood scraps, exploded out and another Jar came flying
through, this one broadsiding the current commanding officer. Router shouted at the
others as he sprinted away, the walls continuing to burst open as Jars were flung
through with frightening rapidity. The mouse within was tossing them about as if
they were sugar packets.
     Dozens more soldiers were caught in this brutally bizarre surprise attack, the
Jars snagging several in the air, then catching even more as they bounced and rolled
over the ground. Router knew the best thing in this case was to just get out of
range. Apparently the others sensed he was on to something, as they followed him back
away from the immediate area of fire. The whole Jar Chamber began to shake as the
walls were being torn to sheds.
     Then, just as quickly as it had started, the outburst ended. The remaining
guards in the area cautiously peeked out from their hiding places, still trembling.
And with good cause. Over half their squad had been defeated in the solo attack.
Router felt eyes on him, and when he glanced about, he was surprised to see
everyone looking to him for the next move. He sighed heavily. Most of these guards
were green; the more experienced soldiers were directly involved in the front line combat.
Those left behind could manage the rodent hordes as long as nothing major
happened, such as this. This instance, however, had proved that if a full-scale
revolt was ever held, the insects here would be in serious trouble.
     "Spread out," he finally ordered. "Keep your distance, but start moving your
fallen fellow Swarm members to safety." None had a chance to do so, though.
     As if the pandemonium switch had been flipped back on, a loud clanking
arose from the Jar Chamber, following by more splintering wood as a torrent of Jars
came barreling out in an immense glass horde. The weakened walls couldn't handle
the sudden strain on the remaining walls, and the entire Chamber collapsed in on
itself, kicking up dust throughout the cavern. The Jars rolled and tumbled down
through any insects unfortunate enough to be caught in their path. The remaining
troops took cover once more until the Jars passed by.
     Router glanced at the remains of the Chamber, trying to see if anything was
still moving. He paid no heed to the Jars that were rolling over to the far wall,
seeing as how they were no longer a threat. Hence, he never saw the one that held
a single mouse inside.  The mouse was running to keep his transport moving while
holding a limp form to his chest protectively.
     "Uhm, sir?" one of the guards uncertainly addressed Router.
     The ant smiled. "My name's Router. What is it?"
     "Uh, won't there be a danger from all the ether?"
     Router shook his head. "No, that stuff actually evaporates pretty quickly." He
pointed up to one of the vents near the ceiling. "And the constant air circulation we
have around here will prevent any from affecting us, anyway. Besides," he looked
around with a frown at the fallen soldiers, "we can't just leave them. Organize a
medical crew. Use what scraps are left to construct a medical tent to put all those
injured. Have the rest of the guys form a guard around it, to protect them in case
that maniac survived."
     The other ant gulped. "You think he did?"
     Router thought for a minute. "I don't think so. With the way he was
behaving, he would have kept on attacking, rather than waiting under the wreckage.
You should be fine, but just keep a sharp lookout." Router turned and started out
one of the tunnels.
     "Where are you going?" the ant asked plaintively.
     "I'm going to do something more dangerous that facing that mouse," he
yelled over his shoulder. Then, to himself, "I'm going to tell Sand that some mouse
has completely destroyed the Jar Chamber single-handedly."

                         *     *     *

     "Monty!" Gadget's eyes went wide at the sight of the mouse who had been
her foster father for over five years. He was suffering from the three R's:
ragged, raging, and rasping. By far, though, the most frightening aspect of Monty's
appearance was the limp form of Tammy in his arms.
     Tim also stared in wonder at the large Aussie. "But-- I-- It--" he stopped,
took a breath, and tried again. "How did you get back into the camp with her? And
without making a ruckus with the guards?"
     "The guards are greener than a kangaroo sufferin' from motion sickness,"
Monterey grumbled in reply, quickly moving past them and placing the inert Tammy
on one of the cots. "They haven't a bloomin' clue what to do besides follow simple
orders. I just bent out a section of the wire fence and snuck in, then bent it back.
The guards could've seen me if they were trained, but these blighters are just goin'
through the motions."
     Tim leaned back and thought. "Then how can they keep so many animals
under control?"
     "Fear." Monterey glanced up at the other two, his expression solid and grim.
"They don't need any fancy precautions because the blighters in charge know how
to keep the masses under 'em. How do you think they got in charge in the first
place?'
     "What happened to Tammy?" Gadget asked, kneeing down on the opposite
side of Monterey and placing her hand on the squirrel's forehead. It was warm.
Gadget silently gave thanks that Bink was away with Henry and Tim's daughters.
     "Gassed. Ether."
     "What?!" Gadget and Tim replied in unison.
     Monterey ran a shaking hand though his matted hair, as if he were living
someone else's memories. "I overheard Sand talkin'  bout sendin' Tammy to the
Jars. That's what they call their room full o' Jars of Ether. The devils put a
friggin' kid there, for curds sake!" He bit down hard on his lip, trying not to
cry. For the first time, he finally understood where his favorite Uncle
had come from.
     And gone through.
     Gadget timidly rested her fingers on Tammy's wrist, waited a few moments,
then breathed a sigh of relief. "Monty, it's okay, Tammy's just unconscious." She
smiled at him with pride. "You saved her."
     Monterey's body shook slightly as his nervousness broke, and then shattered
through him. He put his head in his shaking hands, not bothering to fight it. After
it had been purged from his system, he looked back up with a halting, but honest,
chuckle. "Blimey," he breathed hard a few times. "I guess this place has taken more
of a toll on me than I thought."
     "It has on us all, Monty," Tim nodded. "Just be glad you held together."
     Monterey gave a slight smile. "I didn't."
     "What do you mean?" Gadget raised an eyebrow.
     With another breath to calm himself, the largest of the Rescue Rangers
related his tale to Gadget and Tim. About how he had tracked Tammy, how he had
found her, and his subsequent mental snap. Tim was practically shocked at the
devastation the lone mouse had wreaked, but Gadget took it all in understandingly.
Knowing Monterey the best of all the Rangers, she knew that if he were pushed to the
limits, there was no telling what he might do.
     "Whoa," Tim finally managed. "Remind me not to tick you off."
     "Not to worry, mate," Monterey replied. "I almost never react that way." He
looked back down on Tammy, and gently ran his hand over her head. "Unless
someone's life is threatened."
     "We've got to get out of here," Gadget stated matter-of-factly. "We can't let
this horror go on any longer. Bad enough they've been putting people into those
Jars in the first place" -- a collective shudder ran through the group as they
remembered how Monterey had explained that there were dozens of Jars -- "but if
they've gotten to the point of putting kids in there, then they've passed the
point of no return."
     "But how, luv?" Monterey asked. "After tonight, I know that we could slip
by 'em, but the rest of the adults here are too scared, and I don't want the
kids to be risked like that."
     Tim nodded. "Not to mention something you had told me before, about how
those left behind might get punished as a warning to the rest of the prisoners. And
with this new knowledge of Swarm, I don't want to risk that, either."
     Gadget thought. "We can't just stay here, either, though."
     "Could we form a resistance?" Tim offered.
     "Maybe," Monterey tapped his chin in contemplation. "We can break through
the fear if we can get the others angry. That'd do it. But it'd be hard. We'd 
have to publicly defeat a large portion of Swarm, to show that the insects aren't
this unstoppable force they've led us all to believe."
     "Good luck," Tim sighed. "They outnumber us something fierce, remember?"
     "Hmm," Gadget stood up and began to pace. "If only I could get to my
workshop, I could cook up something to even the odds." She paused and looked
around. "Too bad there isn't at least a junkyard around here or something."
     "But there is," Tim answered, not sure why that was important.
     "There is?!" Gadget spun around. "Where?"
     Tim was surprised at the reaction, but pointed up. "We're under a landfill,
remember?"
     Monterey slowly nodded, and laughed. "Crikey! Talk about not seein' the
forest for the trees!"
     "Golly, that's great news!" Gadget grinned. "All I need to do is to get up
there, and I can whip something together in a jiff that'll get all of us in this
camp out of here!"
     "You sure?"  Tim asked. "There's about fifty of us here, remember?"
     Gadget waved her hand dismissively. "No sweat."
     "But how can you get up there?" Monterey pointed out. "The ceiling of this
cavern's about two feet up. Slightly out of our reach, luv."
     "He's right," Tim nodded. "Even if you stand on the roof of these barracks,
you'll be about a foot and a half too short."
     Gadget's eyes ran over the bunks around them, and she smiled. "Trust me, I
got it covered," she winked.

                         *     *     *

     "Destroyed?!" Sand slammed his fist down on the rickety desk in front of
him, snapping it in half.
     Router winced, but nodded. "Completely. At least half of the forces stationed
there were taken down, as well. No casualties, I think, but several will need to be
hospitalized for a while."
     Sand turned away and began to pace the floor of his small office. "And the
mouse?"
     "I don't know. He might have perished when the building collapsed.
Considering he didn't emerge after the dust settled, I'm guessing he's at least
immobilized. Or he managed to escape."
     "Escape?" Sand sneered, "How?"
     "He managed to get in without anyone noticing, sir," Router pointed out. "It's
just as possible he managed to get out without notice, as well."
     "Impossible. That place is surrounded."
     "With inexperienced soldiers," Router reluctantly noted. Sand spun to face
the young ant, but Router merely shrugged. "It's the truth, sir. As far as I know, 
I'm the only one stationed there who has actually had some experience. The rest of 
them just go through the motions. As long as the status quo around the place is
maintained, they don't have anything to worry about. But if something out of the
ordinary happens--"
     "They aren't trained well enough to deal with it," Sand sighed, nodding. "I
understand, son, and you do have a valid point."
     "Then assign some more experienced troops to the guard positions," Router
said hopefully. "If the camps are run in the same fashion, all it would take is one
show of strength by the prisoners to bring everything crashing down around our
ears. Morale would take a severe blow, and who knows how many insects would be
injured, or downright killed in the ensuing chaos?"
     "Unfortunately, private, our hands are tied." Sand leaned against the back of
his chair. "Operation Infest takes place in less than five hours. We need every
available insect with combat experience under his belt to be on the front lines." He
straightened up. "But, don't worry. Once stage one of Infest is over, we can
reassign a large chunk of those troops to garrison duty. Hitter already has plans for
keeping the softskins in line, but Infest is our top concern at the moment."
     "So what do we do until then?"
     "Go back to the site, and have them start to clear the debris, and rebuild. Tell
them none are allowed to leave until a formal investigation is conducted."
     "Why?" Router didn't see what good that would do.
     "So news of this won't spread," Sand replied. "Keep them busy. After Infest
has completed its first stage, I'll be there with additional squads to help, and 
they'll all be experienced soldiers. Right now, we need to keep a lid on this, so 
don't bring this up with anyone else, understood?"
     "What about the other advisors? Or even Hitter? He does stop by on
occasion, you know, sir."
     Sand thought for a moment. "Hitter will probably be too busy to stop by, but
if he does, tell him that a renegade group from the A.P.F. attacked, and that they
were subdued by me and my men."
     "You mean lie?" Router asked incredulously.
     "If Hitter knew that a single mouse had done this, he might call off Operation
Infest to conduct a full investigation. While I agree that this does need to be dealt 
with, it can wait. We'll never have a better chance to strike back against the humans 
than now, and they've had it coming for a long, long time."
     Router wasn't sure he agreed, but deferred to Sand. "As you order, sir."
     He turned and left the office, wondering if Swarm was indeed the solid
fortress Hitter had preached about, or might be, in fact, just a paper castle.
     One that would collapse given the right push.

                         *     *     *

     Tim smiled at the guards disarmingly, trying not to seem too self-conscious.
He was watching Bink, Henry, Cindy, and Ann playing out in front of him, Serena
safely tucked in his arms, as per usual. The children seemed to be doing better,
despite the conditions of the camp. The guards never really bothered them, which
was probably why they had been able to forget their current predicament and lose
themselves in their imaginations. The times they managed to laugh, thankfully,
helped to ease the adults' tensions in the camp, as well.
     Behind Tim, Tammy watched the other side of the camp with a detached
stare. She had recovered from her ordeal in the Jar, and although it had shaken her
badly, she was too fiery to let it break her. Indeed, all it had done was make her
*more* angry. Fortunately, she had also developed a sense of foresight this time
around, and so was able to assist Monterey and Gadget during Gadget's escape
attempt. While Tim waited on the other side of the wooden barracks, Tammy kept
an eye on her side, waiting for the right moment.
     Inside, Gadget glanced up again at the hole in the ceiling, and recalculated her
theoretical trajectory. She would reach the ceiling, she was certain, but she just 
hoped that it would be close enough to one of the small niches so she could climb 
into it without too much trouble. Monterey, lying flat on the roof above, would 
signal her when he got the signs from Tim and Tammy, then quickly stand up, jump 
through the hole on the raised end of the lever she had constructed from the bunks, 
and fire her out of the barracks and up to the cavern ceiling. From there on, she was 
on her own. She checked to make sure all the makeshift tools were firmly attached to 
her belt, and that her hand-grips (kit-bashed from some splinters and twine) were 
securely fastened.
     Outside, the insects in the watch towers started to change guards.
     Behind his back, Tim gave an "A-okay" sign.
     Behind her back, Tammy repeated the gesture.
     "Here we go," Monterey mumbled as he waved his hand over the hole to alert
Gadget, then swiftly stood up, and jumped down to hit his end of the lever.
     Gadget managed to suppress a "Golly!" as she rocketed up past the roof of
the barracks (hiding a sigh of relief that she *did* miss it) while the guards' 
attention was diverted due to the changing. She shot up through the upper portion 
of the cavern, her hand-grips digging into the earthen roof with a thunk as her 
momentum carried her feet upwards. For a moment, the grips slipped as her weight
began to drop, but she managed to snag some toeholds, taking enough strain off of
the grips.
     "Whew," she breathed, then began to ease her way across the ceiling to the
nearest opening. The dirt roof held plenty of openings where rocks and twigs used
to be before they were removed, but she had to be careful not too move to fast,
lest a shower of dirt from above alert the guards, or worse yet, that she should
lose her grip and fall back to the floor. It wouldn't be deadly, but it would ruin
their chances of trying this stunt again.
     At the same time, she had to move quickly. Her muscles would tire soon, and
there was no telling when the next flying patrol would buzz through. Even though
she couldn't see, already Monterey was replacing the planks in the ceiling, covering
up the evidence that a hole had ever been there.
     She crept along, using every available toehold she could find, the grips
making it all just easy enough for her to reach a relatively safe niche to crawl up
into. It was fairly large -- big enough for her to stand upright -- and had a
small ledge to the side for her to rest on. More importantly, it wasn't directly 
above any watchtower, so any dirt that would fall from her digging wouldn't be 
raining down on them, giving her position away.
     She took a minute to catch her breath, then pulled off the hand-grips, took out
a couple of digging tools, and set to work. She had a long way to go before she
would break through to the surface, and that wasn't counting the time it would take
to build something with which to get back down to the camp and haul the others out.
Monterey and Tim would work on preparing the rest of the prisoners, so they
would be willing to hop aboard without needing a push.
     But even if they were too afraid, Gadget would personally knock them out
and drag them aboard; nobody deserved to be left behind in this inferno.

                         *     *     *

     "I gotta help, Foxy," Dale protested as he rubbed his head, leaning against the
wall. "No telling what the others are going through. I might be their last hope."
     Foxglove frowned at him and shook her head. "Darling, I know you're
headstrong, but your head's not that strong right now."
     "Hey!"
     "I mean," she explained, "that you still should rest. You were pretty badly
battered. The rest you've had has helped, but you shouldn't be pushing it." She
sighed and stepped closer to him, ruffling his hair affectionately with a wingtip.
"I just don't want you out there risking yourself unnecessarily."
     Dale gulped at her touch; his brains didn't work that well when she did that.
"Uhm, thanks Foxy, but I have to do something. I can't just sit by and let the city
be overrun by those bugs."
     "Well, you need help," she stated defiantly, and Dale knew exactly what she
was thinking.
     "Uh-uh! No. No you don't," he admonished her. "Risking my life is my
business as a Rescue Ranger. But for you to risk yours isn't smart. No need for you
to play the mayor."
     Foxglove grinned at him. "Martyr."
     "Er, whatever."
     "So it's okay for you to kill yourself to help others, but not for me?" she
sternly asked.
     "Oh, come on, Foxy," Dale pleaded. "You can, I know, but I don't like the
thought of that. I'd hate for anything to happen to you." He took her free wingtip
in his hand. "I'd be very upset at you if you died on me."
     Smiling warmly, she gently nuzzled him. "Now you know how I feel every
time you go running off into some danger, sweetie," she whispered. "I'd feel much
better if at least I had the chance to keep you from being hurt. After all," she 
leaned back with a knowing look, "I've saved your life before, haven't I?"
     "No fair," he grumbled in reply. But she had a point. "Okay, fine, but if we're each
going to be watching out for the other, we'll need some help."
     "How do you mean, cutie?"
     "Well," Dale shifted a bit to lean against his love. "I mean maybe Monty can
go charging into a pack of rabid fire-breathing cats--"
     "He did what?"
     "Well, he told me so."
     "Uh-huh."
     "Anyway, maybe he can come out unscraped--"
     "Unscathed."
     "Huh? Oh, I guess that too. Anyway, maybe he can do that, but we'll need
some back-up. And considering how many of those Swarm guys are out there," he
sighed, "it looks like we'll need a small army."
     Foxglove thought as she held Dale close to her. "A small army...."
     "And I have no clue how we could move a small army undetected. Those bug guys in
the air are always flying around. I mean, if I had trouble dodging 'em, how could we
move a bunch of people by 'em?"
     "It'd be quite easy, dumpling," Foxglove grinned at him reassuringly. "All we
have to do is take the high road."

                         *     *     *

     "Isn't it a little late for a social visit?" Queenie asked with a yawn.
     Zipper had to smile -- even when she had just awakened, her beauty remained
unmarred. Zinger noticed the dreamy look in her little brother's eyes and just shook
her head. Her brother shot for the top, that was for sure.
     "So," Queenie continued, now smiling at Zipper and Zinger, "what brings
you here at this hour?" The hive was silent, aside from the low buzz underlying
the tranquility of thousands of sleeping bees. Queenie's hive had grown
considerably since her first encounter with the Rangers, but Zipper had never really
noticed it until now, when the bees were all in the large hive at once.
     Zipper's smile faded as he remembered what brought him out to see Queenie.
He stepped forward tentatively.
     Queenie, he motioned humbly, I need your help.
     "What for?" she asked politely. She was confident that whatever it was, it
wouldn't be a problem.
     I need your help to stop one of Hitter's attacks.
     Queenie blinked. That request, on the other hand, was certainly on the tall
order side of the menu. "Well Zipper," she responded with a surprised look, "you
certainly do shoot for the top, don't you?"
     For no apparent reason, Zinger grinned widely at this, but managed to hide it
behind her hand.
     I know, Zipper's posture replied, but he's going too far. Or maybe he's
finally showing his true colors. Whatever. The point is, now he's going after
humans.
     "Humans?" Queenie was disturbed at this, as Zipper had hoped. She held
very noble ideas about life in general, and one of them was a certain degree of
respect for humans. She might not have agreed with them all the time, but 
she knew that deliberately provoking them was never a good idea.
     Hitter is planning to shut down one of their buildings, Zinger added, and set
fire to it. He says it's suppose to be just a warning, but Zipper doesn't think he's
being wholly honest.
     Zipper nodded glumly. I think there's something to this he hasn't told me, the
saddened fly explained. I'm not sure what, but there's something else behind this
attack besides just shutting down an office building.
     "What is he shutting down?" Queenie asked.
     I don't know, Zipper shook his head, but it's located somewhere downtown. I
saw the blueprints, though. It's about five stories high, I think, with mostly glass
windows, and sits on a separate block. A big building, but not a skyscraper.
     In any case, Zinger motioned, we doubt that this would be a smart move,
attacking the humans in any way. I doubt they will be just frightened off, as Hitter
says.
     I'm afraid several will be hurt, Zipper added, maybe even worse.
     "So what is it you want me to do?" Queenie asked cautiously. "Send in my
swarm to fight them?" The thought of another Hive War sickened her to the core,
regardless of the circumstances.
     No, Zipper smiled up at her. Nothing like that, Queenie. We just need you to
help us with a little side project.
     "What sort of side project?" She raised an eyebrow. If it wasn't for the
seriousness of the meeting, Zipper would have thought she was flirting.
     Hitter is planning to knock out the building's power, Zinger gestured. He's
doing it through a two-pronged attack. One group is ripping up the back-up systems,
then another will cut the power to the main systems. With no back-up, the power
will be gone. What we need from you is to help another hive we've contacted to 
make sure that the power returns quickly.
     None of your bees will even be seen, Zipper added with a smile, or any of
the others we've recruited. Trust me, I was being torn up on the inside trying to
figure out a way to stop Hitter's plans without anyone being hurt.
     "Hitter told you about his plans?"
     Oh yeah, Zipper nodded. He knew that in a twisted way, I couldn't bring
myself to use the information to cause harm to any insect, even those carrying out
his orders. He knew I couldn't stop them by myself, but then I remembered that I
wasn't the only insect who had high standards.
     Zipper bowed low in respect to Queenie, whose cheeks flushed lightly at the
compliment. Odd. She never blushed at any of the compliments that her drones gave
her, and they dished out a great number of them....
     "Well, yes, I suspect that I can help you out with this endeavor," she nodded
as she donned her cape. "You have everything ready?"
     Yep, Zipper replied with a thumbs-up, it's all set. The others are already in
position. All we have to do is meet them there in an hour, so we have enough time
to set things up before Swarm moves in.
     "Very well, Zipper," Queenie nodded crisply to him, "but for making me
work this late at night, I expect a reward in return."
     Uhm... -- Zipper stalled until Zinger nudged him forcefully in the back -- How
about dinner?
     "Deal," she replied with a wink, then turned to the mass of bees on the walls,
rousing them with a perfectly pitched waking call. "Swarm, we have a special
mission tonight...."

                         *     *     *

     "Men, we have a special mission this evening." Dale looked out over his
troops, all lined up in straight rows, heads held high, spines erect. "I will be 
your commanding officer for this mission. My name is Commander Dale, but you can 
call me by my first name: Commander." He puffed out his chest, his helmet resting
authoritatively on his head, the chin straps undone for that "John Wayne" look he
thought was cool. His loud Hawaiian shirt clashed with the look, but he preferred to 
think of his ensemble as intimidating.
     "This lady," he pointed with his toothpick to Foxglove, "is the second in
command here. You will address her with respect as Lieutenant Foxglove,
understood?"
     "Sir, yes sir!" the bats before him repeated. Dale had been impressed with the
speed with which Foxglove had managed to gather them together, but she said all she had
to do was light over to the base of the mountains, where a clan of her acquaintance
lived.  They were already up, naturally, and they agreed to help out. Although they didn't
really think too much of the military idea Dale had set up, Foxglove had asked them
privately to "humor him", and since they cared for the sweet and compassionate bat like 
a sister, they conceded.
     "All right," Dale grinned, liking this leadership feeling. Not a leader, eh?
Hah! He'd show Chip what real chipmunks could do. When the going got rough, the
tough roughed things up... or something close.
     "Now," he continued in his best James Earl Jones voice, which really wasn't
very good, "we will be flying renaissance tonight--"
     "Reconnaissance, cutie," Foxglove automatically corrected him.
     The bats laughed politely while Dale spun to face Foxglove. "I told you never
to call me that in front of the men!"
     "Oh, right," Foxglove nodded apologetically. "I'll try harder sweetie--I mean,
uh," -- she tried to make her voice gruff -- "Commander." 
     Sighing, Dale turned back to the bats, who were doing an admirable job of
keeping the grins off their faces. "In any case, troops, the insect hordes have been
flying at... uh... at a certain height. And to keep from being spotted, we'll be
flying at... uhm... a higher, uh, height. Everybody got that?"
     The bats nodded in unison. Fly higher than the bugs. Easy enough.
     "Excellent," Dale nodded, his helmet tilting slightly, giving him a
distinguished look. Foxglove sighed happily and got a bit dreamy-eyed. Dale
noticed this, and turning slightly away from the gathered force, whispered to her,
"Uh, Foxy? It's not good if the Lieutenant is getting gooey-eyed over the
Commander...."
     "Oh!' she blushed slightly and nodded. "Sorry."
     "S'alright," Dale reassured her. He found it flattering, actually. But right now,
he needed to be tough. "Okay, troops! Let's get ready to move out."
     "Where to, sir?" one asked.
     "Uh...." He hadn't thought of that. "We'll start out in the center of downtown
and spiral outwards?" he half-ordered, half-asked.
     "Good idea," the bat nodded approvingly.
     "It is? I mean," -- Dale made his voice stern -- "it is! I thought of it!"
     The bat shrugged and turned with the rest as they started to head towards the
hole in the ceiling, making for the night sky.
     "Dale?" Foxglove asked, as the others flew out. "You all set?"
     "Yeppers, Foxy," he nodded. "You sure you won't have any trouble carrying
me?"
     "None. As long as we don't hover in place for too long." She giggled.
"Unless you've been hitting the Twinkies hard the past few days."
     "Hey, I haven't even seen one, hon," he chuckled. "Okay, let's get cracking.
Every second we lose is one less second we have to use out there."
     "Very profound, cutie," Foxglove commented as she lifted off the ground,
grabbed him by the shoulders with her feet, then flew up through the hole in the
ceiling to join with the rest of the flock. As one, they climbed in altitude until
they were well above the city.
     "Are you going to be able to find the bugs okay?" Dale asked, concerned. He
hadn't realized how difficult it might be to spot the bugs in the darkness, even if
they were moving in large clusters.
     "Relax, darling," Foxglove replied. "We do this for a living, remember?"
     "Oh. Yeah."
     With a laugh, Foxglove took the point, leading the flock towards the heart of
the city.

                         *     *     *

     Blackness.
     Pain.
     And a voice. 
     "Good evening, Chip."
     Groggily, Chip's mental state solidified. He was awake, his head throbbing
with each beat of his heart.
     At least my heart is still beating, he reminded himself. He was lying on his
back, covered with some sort of blanket. His fingers were still sore from his earlier
narrow escape. The last he remembered, the brick had hit him squarely, and he had
thought it was the end. He opened his eyes, and an out of focus world slowly began 
to coalesce before him. He was looking at a dirt ceiling, just a few inches above his head. The
light that flickered against it and the heat from the side told him that a fire was
going nearby. He attempted to sit up, but a fiery pain shot through him, and he groaned.
     "Take it easy," a light, elegant, female voice advised him. It was
rather soothing, but somewhat chilling at the same time. Turning his head, he looked
at the owner, and tried to keep the waver out of his tone.
     "Hello Victoria."
     The black widow smiled at him as she stood near the small hearth, a pair of
hands weaving together a small web, similar to crocheting, while the other pair
tended to a small tea kettle, simmering over the fire.
     Chip was beginning to wonder about his luck when it came to waking up in a
bed other than his own. The number of times he had been awakened by an enemy was
getting to be annoyingly high. On the other hand, he'd rather endure that than having
said enemies taking steps to ensure he never woke again.
     "You've been through a fair amount, it would seem," Victoria went on,
returning her attention back to her tasks. "I found you on the banks of the sewer
river near my humble abode."
     "I was in the sewer," Chip repeated slowly, trying to piece things together in
his shaken mind. "They dropped a brick on me. I was knocked out. I figured I
would have been crushed against the bottom of the sewer." His incoherence made it
surprisingly clear how confused he was.
     "Was the brick square?"
     Chip tried to remember. "I think so. Why?"
     "The bottom of the sewers around here are rounded," she answered. "It
would seem that the brick knocked you down against the bottom, but due to the
space between the bottom's curve and the flatness of the stone, you weren't
crushed. My next guess would be that the strong current pushed you out from under
the brick, and downstream."
     Slowly, so as not to hurt his head, Chip nodded. "There was a pipe opening
right in front of me. I must've been carried down into it."
     "Dropping you at my very doorstep," Victoria concluded. "Be
glad you're buoyant, and that the currents from the waterfall pushed you to the side
of the pool, rather than further on into the sewer system."
     There was silence as Chip sighed and gingerly lifted his hands up. He
experimentally flexed his fingers, flinching at the pain that lanced through them.
Dropping them to his sides, Chip waited as the pounding in his head subsided.
"Why did you save me?"
     Victoria glanced over at him. "Why should I not have?"
     "You wanted us dead, didn't you?"
     "I want Foxglove and Dale dead," she corrected him. "And Dale only so that
Foxglove might feel the pain she has caused me, before she, herself, joins her love in
Earth's cold embrace."
     "Oh," Chip remarked, not sure of how else to respond. He had seen the vengeful
black widow once before, but never really met her. He had only heard about her
actions through Dale, Foxglove, Monterey, and Zipper. She blamed Foxglove for
Lou, a tarantula, never having come back to her, and wanted the bat dead. But also
wanting quid pro quo, she wanted Dale to die first, thereby paining Foxglove.
Victoria had nearly succeeded in her attempt at revenge, but was thwarted by none
other than Foxglove. By the time Chip had arrived with Gadget, Victoria had
already been trapped in her own casket, no less, and knocked unconscious from the gases
within. They had turned her over to the A.P.F. shortly thereafter.
     "Weren't you under the custody of the A.P.F.?" he asked for clarification.
     She smiled slightly. "I was. When Swarm attacked their main branch, they
tore it to shreds. Many of the inmates fled when they had the chance." Her smile
dimmed. "Not many were able to move fast enough, I fear."
     "You don't mean--"
     "Where did you come from?" Victoria suddenly cut in.
     Taken aback at the abruptness, Chip wondered what prompted the question,
but knew he was hardly in the position to argue. "I escaped from them. They're
holding all the rodents and other animals they've captured prisoner up there, in
concentration camps."
     "You mean they're *temporarily* holding most of the animals they've
captured," she replied coldly. "I highly doubt this group values 'softskin' life too
highly."
     "You don't think--"
     "I know, my dear chipmunk," she interrupted, the edge of her voice cutting
through his denial like a scalpel. "For the time being, I have chosen to make my
home here, for Swarm will drop the bodies of those they no longer need into the
sewer from above. While their bodies may be somewhat disgusting after having
been dipped in the sewage, their blood will be relatively clean." She was too busy with
the teapot to see Chip's horrified reaction.
     "Mind you, it isn't many," she went on nonchalantly, as if discussing an
upcoming football game. "But more than enough for my purposes. After all, things
are rather dangerous on the surface for anyone who is not an insect. You should be happy
to know that I will at least thank them -- posthumously, of course -- for their 
'donations' to my menu by giving them a proper burial." She picked up a teacup
nearby and filled it with a lightly-colored liquid from the teapot. "Tea?" she
offered, turning to him as she took a sip.
     Chip felt extraordinarily ill.
     "It's just normal tea, if that's what you're worried about."
     He shook his head, both in response to her offer and her concern. Running a
trembling hand over his head, he weakly asked, "How many?'
     Victoria shrugged. "I wouldn't know, really. I don't go fishing, so to speak,
all that often, so I haven't been standing by the pool with a scorecard. The number 
I have dragged out, however, would be at least in the twenties. Not counting you,
naturally."
     "I don't believe this...." he almost whimpered. He had never wanted to
believe it, but he knew, in his heart, that he had never really expected to find a camp 
full of the troublemakers. He looked back up at her, unable to ask the next question.
     Watching him carefully, Victoria took another sip before answering. Seeing
that even she was actually hesitant to answer his unspoken question made his blood
run cold. "Despite their belief in Insecta supremacy," she said quietly, "in terms 
of this scenario, they do not discriminate on the basis of sex, species, or age, I'm 
afraid."
     A choked sob escaped from Chip as the weight of her answer crushed his
heart. Shakily, he forced himself to a sitting position, too numb to feel the pain
now. Victoria approached him and poured him a cup of tea.
     "Drink," she ordered.
     "I'm not thirsty."
     "You are weak, though. You need something in your system besides grief and
frustration."
     He looked at her levelly, then took the cup. "I really hate tea, you know."
     "Good," she replied, moving back to the fireplace. "Then it should give you a
less depressing reason to be bitter."
     He sipped at the tea, really hating the taste of it. Still, the hot liquid in
his mouth did feel somewhat welcome, and once he swallowed it, he felt the warmth
slowly begin to spread through his numb limbs. Taking another sip, he watched
Victoria in silence for a moment, then asked, "Why are you helping me?"
     She shrugged. "I have no quarrel with you, so I see no reason to do
otherwise. I have already eaten, so I'm not hungry. And I do not wish for Swarm to
remain a threat, so I think you ought to be well enough to thwart them.  It is, after
all, what you do, is it not? Making the city a safer place to live, for both humans
and animals?"
     "Humans...." Chip repeated, more to himself than to Victoria. That reminded
him. "I have to get out of here," he finally managed, then looked worried. "I might
not have much time left. Do you have any clue as to how long I've been here?"
     "Since I dragged you inside?" She contemplated momentarily. "Perhaps two
hours, no more than three. As for the time between your unconsciousness and my
finding you, however, I cannot say."
     "I might not have any time, then," he groaned as he hoisted himself out of the
bed. His legs were weak, his hands were trembling, and his fingers were still in a
great deal of pain. It was by sheer willpower alone that he was even able to hang
onto the teacup in the first place. He swallowed the rest of the tea, grimacing
as the hot beverage burned down his throat, but he had no time to lose. "They're 
going to hit a human building tonight, and I have to stop them." He stopped as he 
reached for his jacket, suddenly stopped, and sat back down on the simple bed, 
frustration building. "Nuts! I don't even know where they're hitting! Blast it!"
     Victoria seemed nonplussed. "A human building?" she echoed. "How did you
find this out?"
     "I was eavesdropping as they made their plans; it's how I ended up in the
sewer in the first place." He placed his hands over his mouth and nose, breathing
deeply as he tried to remember every scrap of information from that meeting that he had
seen and heard. "Wait. I remember seeing something in the corner of the blueprints
they were going over. It said 'S.C.H.', I think. Stands for something, no doubt, but
what?" He was talking aloud, to himself, once more.
     Victoria, however, was listening nonetheless. "S.C.H., hmmm?" she queried
lightly. "Tell me, what's their leader's name?"
     "Hitter."
     "Hitter. And has he been calling all the shots? They follow his orders, and no
other's?"
     "Yes." Where was this going?
     "So tell me, does this Hitter seem to be the type to care about his brethren?"
     "What do you think?" he replied snidely, his temper building. "If you have
something to say, then say it! I don't have time to play games!"
     Victoria calmly drank her tea, then gazed back at him. "Just answer the
question, please."
     Growling, Chip complied. "Yes, he seems to care about his fellow insects --
so what?!"
     "I disagree."
     "What?"
     "I said I disagree. I don't believe he really DOES care about them."
     "You have no idea what you're talking about," Chip snapped, his patience
gone with the passing breeze. "I was there through the whole ordeal. I was there
when he brought me, Gadget, and Monterey before him and questioned us. *I* was
there when I overheard his plans -- I think I have a much better grasp on the
situation than you, thank you very much."
     "And I think you fell for his act, just like the rest of them," she replied
evenly, not blinking an eye. Her cool demeanor was really starting to irritate the
normally rational chipmunk.
     "How would you know? You've been hiding down here since those whole
thing started, feeding off of the dead they throw in the sewer like some sort of
bottom feeder."
     "You'd prefer I feed off the living?"
     "You know exactly what I'm talking about, so stuff the superior attitude
you've been waving around. Thousands of creatures, whether they be chipmunks,
squirrels, skunks, moles, dogs, cats, snakes, or even your fellow arachnids, have
all been living up there, on the surface, living with the knowledge that they may get 
caught. And some of them are even trying to fight back, to stop Swarm from getting
any worse, while you hide away from it all, not caring who dies and who lives, so 
long as you come out clean from any harm, right? You'd like to think that you're 
being smart, but the truth is that you're too afraid of Swarm to do anything, so 
you let them run roughshod over everyone else. As long as they don't find you, 
let the rest of the city die, isn't that right?" Chip's anger was ablaze, and 
somewhere in the back of his troubled head, he realized that he may have stepped 
too far, but he was too angry -- at everything out of his control -- to care.
     Victoria's own glare was ice cold to match his burning gaze as she refilled
her teacup smoothly, then placed the kettle back over the fire. The crackling of the
wood was the only sound to be heard for several minutes until she took another sip,
then spoke. "Are you quite finished?"
     Having a minute to cool down, Chip took another deep breath and nodded.
     "Very well," she went on. "There... may be some..." she struggled with the
next word, "truth... to your statement, but I assure you, I do not want Swarm to
continue unabated. Now, since you seem to be too emotionally worked up over this,
allow me to outline what I was attempting to get at. Hitter has portrayed himself as
some sort of honorable insect, correct? Preaching that now is the time for the insects
to revolt and show that they can buck the natural order of the world if they want to.
And through a sudden massing unheard of before, and swiftness in their attacks, they 
have managed to wrest control from the 'softskins', as they call them so lovingly.
     "But Hitter is also the same man who has been ordering the callous deaths of
those who oppose him in the camps. This is not the sign of nobility or forthrightness.
It is the sign of a person who has a particular agenda and will stop at nothing to 
achieve it. He has no qualms against disposing of those animals who speak out against 
him, and would just as soon throw a child, a grandmother, or a disabled animal in the sewer 
as he would a captured soldier. I have heard bits about him in my brief excursions to 
the higher levels, in search of live Insecta prey, and know he comes from a different 
world than you or I. In his home country, Hive Wars are even more frequent and far more 
brutal. He grew up with this, and never forgot it. Now, he's merely redirected it toward 
another group. Basically, all those who are not insects."
     "So what you're saying," Chip cautiously started, "is that Hitter is looking to
send a message, rather than trying to help the insects?"
     She nodded crisply. "Precisely. In the end, he will gladly sacrifice all of the
insects in the city to send a message to the world, about how he fought the system
and won. For a time."
     "For a time?"
     "Surely you are aware, Chip, that if he successfully manages to pull off an
attack against the humans, they will retaliate to fight off this  infestation'. And 
we both know that humans have the advantage of size, technology, and unforgiving
determination when it comes to protecting themselves from outside threats,
including swarms."
     Chip sat back down on the bed absorbing it all in. Victoria was right. Hitter
was driven by an underlying passion, and was willing to hang the rest of Swarm out
to dry in order to satisfy it. "He's looking to make a statement, then. A lasting 
mark on the world that they'll never forget. Another role model for the smaller 
insects to look up to and revere, almost like Zipper...."
     "Almost, but not quite. Zipper is more likely a symbol of compassion. Hitter
wants to be a symbol of power. Think of it. A lone insect who struck back at the
animals and humans of a major city."
     "But how is shutting the power off in a building going to be that
impressive? I mean, I can see that if they set fire to it, it'd be deadly, but if he's
looking to follow in the same mold as his plans against the animals, he should be
attacking something big and important, where he can get a lot of humans all at
once."
     "He is. Hitter has no remorse about disposing of those less able than the 
healthy members of their species, correct?"
     "Right...."
     "Now think," a sardonic smile crossed her face. "Where's a location in the
city that holds plenty of rather helpless humans, and has the initials of S.C.H.?"
     Chip thought for a few seconds, and the answer hit him like a freight train.
     "Oh my God," he whispered. "Stones City Hospital."
     "Several floors of humans who are on life support and need various machines
to stay alive," Victoria nodded. "Knocking out the power should take care of a good
portion of them, and the fire will add a hefty number to the total." She shook her head
sadly. "And due to the horrible tragedy of this unexpected 'accident', there will be a 
great deal of media coverage."
     Chip simply could not believe that an insect or animal could be
so callous and sick.  But so it was.  And who knew what else Hitter had 
planned after this attack?  "I have to get out of here," he stated in a daze, 
"I have to get out of here." His mind was a blur. All those people....
     "There is a small passage next to the drainage pipe on the far side of the
pool," Victoria informed him. "I used it to reach this dwelling in the first place.
Take it and it should place you just south of the city. You'll have to hurry to 
reach the hospital...."
     But Chip was already out the door before she even finished her sentence. She
watched him go, wondering if he would even be able to make a difference. She
wasn't foolhardy enough to believe that he would succeed alone, but perhaps along
the way, he might find others or something to even the odds. Certainly, he had
shown enough stubbornness to push through any barrier at this point.
     In the quiet of her home, Victoria poured herself another cup of tea and
dismissed the wondering. It didn't concern her. Her vengeance was all that
mattered. She would be disappointed if either Dale or Foxglove perished before she
was able to wring them dry, but she had faith they would survive for her to wreak
her revenge. With that cheerful thought, she settled down comfortably on her bed to
drink her tea.

                         *     *     *

     Washboard watched the monitor screens from his position, waiting for the
power lines on the back-up systems to go dead. It felt ironic for him to be sitting here
in this hospital, early in the morning, where hundreds of humans were about to die,
while back in the hospital at Swarm Headquarters, Ruth was also on her way to
Death's Door. He merely hoped that he would be able to be by her side when she
left, so that he might bid her farewell.
     Brickhouse's squadrons were no doubt nearing the completion of their task,
so he kept a watchful eye on the power levels, while the single cricket with him
waited expectantly to relay the signal to Sand's forces, ready at the main power
lines. Grater and his troops were hovering around outside, also waiting for the
signal to swoop in. Some had wanted to just go ahead and torch the place right 
away, but Grater had patiently explained that as long as the fire alarms were 
functioning, the chances of the fire being put out before it could do any real 
damage were too high.
     Suddenly, the power levels from the back-ups disappeared -- Brickhouse's
squadron were done!
     "Quickly!" Washboard turned to the cricket. "Rely the message to Sand to
cut the main power!"
     The cricket expertly made a short series of chirps, alerting the cricket 
further down, who passed it on to the next, and so on, until Sand grinned as the message
reached him. He signaled his troops, positioned throughout the northern wall at
strategic points along the main power cables. They dared not chew through them, as
the power would easily fry them on the spot. Instead, they worked in large teams
with various wire cutters and ax blades. The wire cutters cut through the protective
rubber insulator around the cables, and then the axes were hoisted in the air with a
group effort. With perfect timing, they dropped the blades as one, each one cleanly
cutting through the exposed wiring.
     The power went dead, and the hospital staff began to panic.
     "We did it!" Sand shouted victoriously. With the building now totally devoid
of power and illumination, Grater would know to begin his assault.

     "They did it!" Queenie shouted out to her swarm. "Quickly! Set the
connections!"
     The bees worked smoothly and efficiently. They were further up the power
cable than Sand's crew, around the corner and safely out of sight. The other hive
that Zipper had recruited were on the opposite side of the building, and would be
doing the exact same thing on their end. The bees quickly, and carefully, lest they
be caught by either the electricity or any wandering members of Swarm, rewired the
power feed from the inoperative cable to the spare line that they had hastily
constructed with Zipper, Zinger, and the ants of the Wells Colony.
     They managed to reroute the power flow into the new line, and held their
breath for a millisecond as the power shot down the line, hoping that the ants had
completed their section.
     The lights in the hospital, as well as all the life support functions, sprang
back to life, and Queenie and her bees withheld a yell of triumph as they retreated
back deeper into the building, where Zipper and the others would meet them.
     The emergency bypass operation had been a resounding success.

     "What?!" Washboard blinked in astonishment as the power levels for the
main line came back on, as strong as before. He bounded down from his position,
sprinted over towards the main lines, and nearly ran over Sand, who was coming the
other way.
     "What happened?!" they both asked each other.
     "Why is the power on?" Sand demanded.
     "Obviously, because you didn't cut the main line well enough," Washboard
retorted.
     "Impossible!" But the wasp turned and flew over to inspect the cut portions
of the line, Washboard spreading his wings and following close behind. Together,
they jumped from one cut portion to the next. Each site was cut cleanly, no wires
even close to touching the rest.
     "Blast it!" Sand shouted. "How is power getting through?"
     "It's not," Washboard growled, reaching forward and grabbing a handful of
wires. "See? They're dead as a doornail here! Nothing's coming through this line!"
     "Then where is it coming from? The back-ups?"
     "No," Washboard shook his head, straightening up. "They were still down
when the power returned. There must be another line somewhere."
     "Impossible!" Sand repeated the word once more. "Those blueprints were
mapped out only days prior to this attack! I'm positive that we didn't miss anything,
and they could never have modified it in such a short amount of time. The power *did*
die when the cables were cut!"
     "And then came back on only moments later," Washboard reminded him,
trying to clear his head. "But whatever the case, the power is on, and Grater won't
start the attack run until it's out." He turned and looked grim at Sand. "I suggest
we find out where the power is coming from, rather than have to report this disaster
to Hitter."
     "Sir! Sir!"
     The two leaders turned to see one of Sand's troopers, another wasp, come
flying up, a confused and worried look clearly written on his face.
     "What is it?" Sand asked, dreading the answer.
     The smaller wasp took a moment to catch his breath, then burst out, "Grater's
force is under attack!"
     "What--" Washboard was cut off by Sand's wings beating furiously as he
sped off down the interior of the wall.
     "Troops, fall in!" he ordered, voice hard and cold. If it was a fight that these
attackers wanted, then he'd be more than happy to oblige. The insects along the cables
were still stunned at the apparent failure of the operation, but were trained soldiers,
and quickly fell into place behind their leader.
     Washboard was right behind them as they sped along the inside of the walls,
finally pouring out into the night sky. All of them, even the battle-hardened Sand,
stopped and gaped at the scene before them.
     Bats.
     Everywhere they looked, bats. Filling the sky, blocking out the moon behind
them, and mixing it up something fierce with Grater's air force. Voices could be
heard throughout the fight, but one seemed to carry out over them all.
     "Whoo-hoo!" a male, slightly high-pitched voice yelled out. "We got 'em on
the run Foxy! There's some over there, thirteen o'clock low!"
     "Grater!" Sand shouted out, hoping that the large bumblebee was somewhere
near.
     "Sand!" a gruff voice replied from somewhere off to his left. Glancing over,
the leader wasp spotted Grater flying up to him, ragged and disheveled. "They came
out of nowhere! Just swooped in and Pearl Harbor'ed us!"
     "We have to stop them--" Sand started, but Washboard restrained him.
     "Don't be a fool, Sand!" the grasshopper yelled over the din of buzzing and
leathery wings beating. "This is their home territory! They can fly loops around
any one of us, and their size more than makes up for our current advantage in
numbers."
     "He's right," Grater cursed, "they're eatin' us alive out there -- literally!"
     Sand glanced again at the chaos before him, but he knew a lost battle when he
saw it. "Sound the retreat!" he growled. "Everyone back to Headquarters, and don't
forget to tell Brickhouse on the way back."
     For the first time since its inception, Swarm withdrew in a retreat formation.
They shot back through the hole, heading back the way that they had originally
entered. As they buzzed past the area where Zipper and his allies had gathered,
Zinger peeked around the side, and then signaled that the coast was clear. A loud
chorus of cheers was roused in celebration.
     "You did it, Zipper!" Queenie congratulated him, reaching out and hugging
the humble fly tightly.
     Cheeks red, Zipper tried to play it off.
     What do you mean 'me'? he gestured shyly. It was your swarm, and the
Wells Colony who did all the work.
     "Yeah, but you were the one who thought it all up," a voice chipped in, "and
talked all of us into it in the first place." Zipper turned to see one of the ants
approaching him, nodding approvingly as he chewed on the stub of a matchstick. "I
gotta hand it to ya, Zip, I never thought I'd see the day that my fellow Wellers
would be working to save a bunch of humans."
     I guess despite your tough exterior, Zipper grinned, you're just a softie
inside, Orkin.
     Orkin hrmphed. "We all are. It's what havin' an exoskeleton is all about,
ain't it?"
     But what now, little bro? Zinger's expression asked. We may have stopped
Hitter this time around, but he's sure to try again, and he's got a lot more 
insects on his side.
     "And I doubt any of them want a Hive War with us any more than we do,"
Queenie added.
     I know, I know, Zipper sighed. But I have to do something. Hitter is still
holding hundreds of rodents and other small mammals captive, and who knows what
he'll do with them after this fiasco? I wouldn't put it past him to take out his
frustrations on them.
     "A very astute observation, Zipper," a familiar voice called out from above.
Everyone looked up in surprise as a chipmunk came sliding down a rope to the
floor. A few of the bees were about to subdue the uninvited guest, but a shout from
Zipper cut them off.
     "Chip!" the fly actually said through a forced squeak. He darted to his friend
and hugged him on the side of the head as best he could, then hovered out in front of him.
     How did--when you--I thought-- he gestured wildly, unable to calm down
enough to think straight.
     "Easy, Zipper," Chip smiled, although a trifle wearily. "I'll answer everything
later, I promise, but first we have to decide about Hitter. You're right -- he believes
that if you aren't an insect, you're nothing more than a tool to be used and then discarded."
He nodded respectively to Orkin and bowed to Queenie. "Orkin. Your Highness. I wish we were
meeting under happier circumstances."
     "The hospital is back on track," Queenie nodded politely to him. "I'd call that
a happy occasion."
     "Yeah, but the furry guy has a point," Orkin commented dryly. "What about
Swarm? To me, it looks like either we go in and attack to take him down
permanently, or we just give this up right now.  Cause you know he ain't gonna give
up on this revenge until he actually gets it."
     "You mean you'd be willing to fight your brethren to free the rodents?" Chip
asked, a bit surprised.
     Orkin actually chuckled. "Hey buddy, just because I don't actively socialize
with you don't mean I think you deserve to be slaughtered, either. Give us some
credit, eh?"
     "But a Hive War?" Queenie repeated, saddened. "I just wish there was
another way besides resorting to more fighting."
     Maybe there is, Zipper slowly motioned. Looking around at everyone there,
he saw that Queenie, Orkin, Zinger, and even Chip all seemed to be looking to
him for an answer.
     He would not fail.