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Photo credit: Peter Bray
The few times Clifton had seen his aunt Lilian’s Innermost Chamber, it had been packed with advisors and attendants, and vibrating with activity. He wasn’t sure she had any place this spacious and quiet in the Hive back home that she could call her own.
Queen Madalena stood apart, warm but aloof. “Samantha tells me you’re from Fen, and Lilian’s nephew. How is she?”
“You know my aunt? I mean, she’s well, thank you. I… I’m just surprised you know her. Sam… Samantha didn’t mention the Hiverarchy had any contact with Fen.”
“We don’t,” Sam stated, fixing her mother with a stare that demanded an explanation.
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Photo credit: Eric Tourneret
“Wait out here, Clifton. Let me talk to her first. And you —” Sam glowered at her half-brother, “you better hope she doesn’t make me stay here, because you aren’t gonna like me if I have to stay here.”
“What makes you think I like you anyway?” Andre retorted, but Clifton saw worry and a hint of doubt in his eyes as he left them at the entrance to the Innermost Chamber.
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Photo credit: Stephane Mahe
Dinner among the recruits was a noisy, energetic affair. Sharing stories about their training — their failures and their triumphs — brought laughs and complaints, taunts and praise. Their natures began to sort them into a team of leaders and followers.
As word of Sam’s prowess spread beyond the stinging Fliers to the other training groups, she became the most sought-out trainee in the Meadow.
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Photo credit: Steven Riding
Sunrise had arrived before night was done sleeping, and, although they were excited now, most of the recruits had shown up for roll call bleary-eyed and yawning. Not Sam. She’d been awake and ready before the last star faded.
Happy to be assigned to the same Stinging Fliers group as Queen Madalena’s daughter, Clifton thought he’d been eager to start training; Sam was rabid to begin. Clifton was pleased to be the victor in nine out of twelve partner exercises with twelve different partners; Sam never lost.
By mid-morning, their training officer, Sergeant Stubbs from Fen’s Hive Elite, asked her to help him demonstrate each new maneuver; by noon she was creating her own techniques.
Taking their lunch break together, Clifton and Sam fell into a discussion about the Ultimate Sacrifice. The Alliance army’s official policy discouraged suicide attacks unless absolutely necessary. Clifton thought this was eminently reasonable.
“But what’s the point of having a stinger if you aren’t going to use it?” Sam’s frustration mounted with each word.
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Photo credit: Shikhei Goh
Dawn danced across the Meadow where the Knights of Service had prepared the training ground.
Thousands filled the field. On the ground, mammals and reptiles, amphibians and crawling insects, all in high spirits, called to friends, shouting victory to come. In the surrounding trees, fliers with feathered or gossamer wings twittered and tweeted, flittered and buzzed, vibrating the air with an electric hum.
The Lieutenant leaped to a highpoint. Silence fell.
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Photo credit: Gene Hanson
“Where are you going, Sa-man-tha?” Andre wheedled from his Hive Guard post as his half-sister and Clifton approached the only way out.
“Not that it’s any of your business, An-nie,” she responded, “but I’m going to join the Alliance army.”
He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes. “Have you talked with Mother about this?”
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Photo credit: Scott Bauer
Inside the hive, Sam slipped into a small chamber out of sight around a corner. The first creature to exit a short while later was a darkly exotic female, the like of whom Clifton had never seen.
“Come with me,” she said as she walked past him.
Feeling his heartbeat in his wingtips, Clifton stammered, “Uh, sorry. I… uh, I’m… waiting for someone.”
“Yeah. Me.”
“You’re Sam?”
“Yeah. What of it?”
“Nothing,” he assured her. “It’s just that… well, I was expecting a… a guy.”
Sam crossed her top arms and stuck her lower fists on her hips. “You males are all alike. Andre didn’t tell you he’s my little brother, did he? Well, half-brother really; Mother used to travel. Come on.”
Sam interrogated Clifton as she hurried him through a maze of empty honeycomb.
“So what’s this war about?”
Clifton felt a need to match his speech to the speed of his legs. “This crazy tyrant wasp in The Arids calls himself General Hai and claims he’s the rightful King of Fen. He wants to take back the Hive and take over Bog and the Freelands, too.”
“Is he?”
“Is he what?”
“The rightful King of Fen?”
“No!” Clifton exclaimed. “The Hive has been in my family for generations. There was a wasp uprising against Queen Lilian’s mother a long time ago, and that became the Great War. Another attack happened recently, but it was personal.”
Sam turned left into an unoccupied reserve storage room and shot Clifton a pointed look. “All wars are personal against somebody, aren’t they? What about the rest of the Kingdom?”
Clifton stood tall. “We support the Queen. We’re free to live the way we want to — within the law — but nobody thinks the laws are unreasonable. We’re happy.”
“Except for the wasps, apparently,” Sam commented.
“No,” he corrected her, “including the wasps who are citizens. Only the Great War’s exiles were unhappy. In fact, my aunt is engaged to a wasp.”
“What?”
“We have good lives in Fen,” Clifton told her. “I can’t imagine not having friends from other tribes.”
“We don’t need friends from other tribes,” Sam countered.
That belief must be so old nobody questions it, Clifton thought. “See, that’s what’s changing. If the General comes to the Freelands, it’s going to be a lot easier for him to take over if he only has to fight one tribe at a time. First he’ll conquer the wasps, then he’ll move on to the bees or the voles or somebody else. His army is greater than any of your tribes alone. If you guys don’t help each other, the Freelands won’t be free for long.”
Sam’s brow furrowed. After a longish pause, she issued an order.
“Take me to this Alliance of yours. I’m signing up.”
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Photo credit: Heinz-Peter Bader
News that every wasp and vole had enlisted in the Alliance army influenced others to attend their own tribe’s meeting. Even the solitary amphibians, intrigued by the charismatic Lieutenant Terrance’s stature, were eager to learn more. Almost everyone signed up. By sunset, the Alliance army comprised every tribe except the Hiverarchy of Free Bees, who were now Clifton’s challenge.
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Photo credit: Peter Trimming
The voles came out of hiding when the Ambassador and the lieutenant arrived at the Watercress Ford.
“Thank you for meeting with us,” Lieutenant Terrance said as he shook Theo’s hand. “I’m sorry you’ve suffered such a hard loss. I understand Chester was very young.”
“Just a boy,” Theo said. A soft chorus of, “A fine boy,” “None better,” “So much promise,” and the like rose with nods from the surrounding voles.
“We aren’t as many as the wasps,” Theo acknowledged, “but we want to be part of the Alliance army, and make Chester proud. We just don’t think we’ll be much help on the battlefield.”
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Photo credit: Shikhei Goh
Lieutenant Terrance of Bog had his orders: build an Alliance army to defeat General Hai. He’d spent yesterday with Ambassador Arturo, visiting every Freelands tribe except the bees, explaining the importance of the Alliance and signing up recruits.
The first meeting on their list was with the Communal Hierarchy of Wasps. The air at the overflowing Arena thrummed an anxious whine when their ancient leader stood before them, clearing his throat with a rasp of coughs and expectorations.
“We are not accustomed to working with other Freelands’ tribes,” the elderly wasp began, “but when times change, they demand we change our ways with them. The Massacre changed our times. The Rebels who attacked us and killed our unborn have attacked others, not only in the Freelands, but in the nearby kingdoms of Bog and Fen as well.”
Space, Time, and Raspberries 
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