She entered the nest and told Spifry about the dispatch. “Fry, I got a letter from Beefirst, and she said Malevolant poisoned every spider and termite on the reservation.” That scoundrel. I’ve never hated anyone so much.

  Spifry stamped his eight legs in frustration. “That’s horrible. He went back on his promise!”

  Antuna looked over both her shoulders. “She also said that Malevolant found out about the underground trailway. He has instructed the ant armies to inspect the burrows for fugitives, and they’re executing everyone.” He won’t stop at anything. I’m not surprised.

  Spifry’s following words came out heavy. “All the fugitives?”

  “Yes, and those that harbor them, after public shaming,” responded Antuna. “Luckily, they don’t know who the leaders are.” We might be safe.

  Spifry paced back and forth like a caged animal, spraying a smothering scent. “I thought it would come to this, but I hoped we’d have more time.”

  Antuna stepped into Spifry’s path to stop him from pacing. “Fry, we have to double our efforts to keep our secret. First, I’ll have to warn all the others, and they can’t find out you are here!” Our lives depend on it.

  “Okay, you have permission to kick me if I snore,” Spifry joked.

  Antuna gave him one of her looks. “I’m serious, Fry. This is life or death!” I know he’s joking just to make me feel better.

  Spifry stopped pacing and headed toward the exit. “I know, Tune, but what more can we do? I’ve lived like a hermit crab hiding in a shell for hexths. You can live in peace if I leave.”

  Antuna blocked the doorway. “No, I would die knowing that they captured and killed you because I couldn’t protect you.” We’re in this together! “So, we must be extra careful. Never go near the doorway and walk super softly.”

  Spifry mimicked a walk. “Like a spider?”

  Antuna smiled. “Yes, like a stealthy spider.” She looked hard at Spifry as if she wanted to memorize his face—or rather this moment—before turning toward the fungi farm.

  Spifry was extra careful, and hexeks passed with no hint that others knew he was there. Antuna repeatedly visited her larvae, who metamorphosed into pupae and then into nanitics. Each hexay she visited, she imparted her life and friends’ complete story. She described the struggles and delights on the new planet and insisted they pass the stories on to their offspring.

  Antuna told them about how Beegan, Beebie, and Spifry had saved her life and how they saved Dinomite’s life. She described how Beefirst wanted all insects to work together. Antuna told her children that as their lives were longer than their ancestors on Earth, they could learn much more and do things differently. She shared how she had been a community activist, a soldier, a resistance leader, and a scholar, and she described the outstanding teachers she had. And she told them she was a mother, even though she wasn’t a queen.

  “You are the future,” she sprinkled a pointed perfume, “but you are also the window to the past. Strive to help others, have your own families, and ensure these stories forever last.”

  As she returned from another visit, she heard the loud commotion of a growing horde of ants lining the two sides of a wide path near the outer settlement’s central square. The mob got louder, calling out: “There they are!” and shouting: “Traitors, kill them both!” as they stared at a procession moving down the road. She squeezed through the maze of ant limbs to look at what they watched.

  Antuna trembled as she later described the scene with a blistering bouquet. “Fry, it was horrific. Everyone shouted and threw stones at the poor spider and the ant. The sheriff and his deputies whipped the spider whose hemolymph soaked the path as they made him march by the crowd. They must have had him spit at the ant, forcing him to drag her behind him. The stones hitting her and the ones he dragged her over made her exoskeleton peel off.” Discussing this is making me feel ill.

  Spifry shuffled closer to her, hiding his own horrified expression. “Tune, I am so sorry you had to see that. Try to erase it from your mind. They’ll never discover us—we’ve been so careful.”

  Without acknowledging Spifry’s comment, she shook like a leaf in a windstorm. “When they got to the central square, they used the spider’s thread to tie them to the old sequoia marked for the beetles to take down. The sheriff sprinkled a silver powder over them and told the crowd to spray them down with their formic acid and move back fast.” She stopped and listened for a short time at the door. “The spider and ant strewed a pealing perfume when the formic acid hit their tattered skin. Then, in a matter of hexonds, there was a deafening explosion, and they both burst into flames.” It’s the most horrific thing I’ve ever seen.

  “I can’t believe it. The mob burned them alive!” declared a shocked Spifry.

  “Yes, in an instant, they were gone. Even the old sequoia burned to ashes in hexonds. It was horrendous—I can’t forget the piercing screech before the fireball. It was like the two were the tree limb that attracted a blazing lightning bolt.” Antuna gasped out her last description before collapsing to the floor.

  Spifry picked her up and held her close, but didn’t know what to say to allay her fears.

  Antuna shuddered as she spoke. “Fry, I ... I ... I can’t go like that. Promise me if they come here, you’ll take me out first.” He must, or I will.

  Spifry backed away from her. “No, Tune, I can’t do that.”

  Antuna crawled forward and got into Spifry’s face. “You must promise, or I’ll kill myself right now.”

  Antuna sensed Spifry wanted to slap some sense into her, but she realized he could never hit her. “Okay, but let’s not dwell on it for now,” he stammered.

  “Yes, Fry, let’s cherish the time we have left,” Antuna murmured. Why can’t we all live together in peace?

  A short while later, Antuna returned to visit her children but discovered most of them had left the marsh and made their way into the world.

  She spoke to one that remained at the marsh. “I fear that my time on this planet is running short. I once said we would all die if insect families could not let go of old grudges. Our failure to unify has taken the lives of my three closest friends, and Spifry and I may soon join them.” I fear that time is very near.

  Her child asked, “But you told us of all the great things you and your friends did to bring insects together. Has this not helped?”

  “Sometimes lessons are learned only after great tragedies, and when the teachers are but ghosts that come to us in our pheromonic dreams. In my visions, I have seen this war is only a prelude to greater catastrophes that will befall our planet unless we learn to cooperate.” Don’t ever forget what I have told you and pass it on to your heirs.

  Her child replied, “So we must continue to convince all families to work together?”

  “Yes, and I dreamed of a time after a great upheaval when our families join. But my vision showed me our world will not thrive until the wise listen to the naïve, and the strongest among us depends upon the meekest.”

  Although Antuna told Spifry that she never wanted to discuss the shaming and burning incident again, she could not forget the images she saw. She kept reliving the incineration in her dreams and tried to understand how such a fire could ignite so quickly.

  After hexays of brooding, she finally brought it up with Spifry at dinner. “I can’t stop thinking about the fire. What could burn that hot?” I know it’s not possible without some trick.

  Spifry looked up at her over his bowl of berries. “Tune, forget about it. It’s likely some new nasty invention of the evil chemist Antistry.”

  Antuna grabbed one berry and skewered it violently with her pincers. “Oh, by the death of my queen, you’re right! After leaving the lab, I heard Antistry experimented with chemicals like sodium and potassium to make a flamethrower out of ants’ formic acid spray. He gave up because of backfires that were injuring too many ants. I know formic acid is explosive when mixed with sodium or potassium.” She peppered Spifry with a popping perfume. “It produces volatile hydrogen gas that explodes. That evil Antistry. He finally found a wicked use for his idea.” I can’t believe it.

  Spifry shook his head. “Okay, Tune, you figured it out. Now let’s try to forget about it and live like normal fugitives.”

  “Haha, like normal fugitives—that’s funny! I’ll do my best,” said Antuna.

  A few hexths later, they heard shouting at the entrance to their nest, and the two friends sensed the patter of many six-legged footsteps heading toward Antuna’s den. Spifry grabbed Antuna and held her close as she shivered. Their hug lasted only hexonds, but it seemed like hexours. Antuna relaxed in his gentle embrace.

  Spifry whispered, “Should we try to run, Tune?”

  Antuna quivered hard. “No, they’ll catch us and burn us.” She lowered her head. We must do it now.

  Spifry held her tight in response. “I guess this is it, Tune. I’ll make it quick.”

  Antuna closed her eyes and dispersed a feathery fragrance. “Yes, Fry, I’m ready. It’s been a good life.” And I’m happy we’ll go together.

  Spifry squeezed Antuna a little tighter, like how a mother spider hugs her young before they leave the nest. “I know, and I couldn’t have picked a better soul to resuscitate and befriend.”

  Antuna rocked herself into a trance. Spifry barely heard her withered whiff. “Ouch, did you just bite me, Fry?”

  Spifry crawled across the den, and before he drank from the flask that Antuna had filled with formic acid and poppy juice, he said, “Goodbye Tune, my first bite gave you life—and now with my last, it ends. But, girl, we had some good kicks.”

  In the hexonds, before the poison took hold, Spifry pulled out his thread and wrapped Antuna and himself into a tight cocoon. They planned to leave their world bound in death, like their long friendship.

  Malevolant’s fugitive-hunting squads found the cocoon and planned to burn their bodies after cutting them out. However, one ant recognized Antuna and pleaded that they bury her instead. Antuna had become a folk hero with the stories of her resurrection, fungi farm building, gender role reversals, war resistance, and miraculous motherhood. Although the soldiers typically followed Malevolant’s orders to the chemical formula, they made an exception in her case. The soldier that knew her learned she had offspring and took her body and Spifry’s to her young nanitics. She helped Antuna’s children bury them under a maple tree close to the fungi farm at the marsh where they hatched.

  Malevolant and his armies were content. The ants, bees, flies, roaches, beetles, and worms were finally rid of their enemies. Had Antuna not ensured her progeny, future generations would not have known how insects arrived, survived, and prospered on the new planet and how termites and spiders met their end. In the hexuries after the war had ended, growing numbers of colony insects learned of Malevolant’s various deceptions and regretted their horrific treatment of termites and spiders.

  In time, Antuna’s grave became a shrine. There was a rekindled sentiment that colony insects should strive to live peacefully together, as Antuna and her friends had encouraged. Antuna’s story became a folktale that every colony insect learned from her direct descendants, who became revered in society as Antunites or the keepers of Antuna’s story. The colony insects lived in peace for many mega-hexs until another evil leader reignited hatred in his quest for power.

  CLOSING PODCAST [INTERVIEW]

  Vive:

  As promised, I’m joined by our interstellar author, Narrant from moon Bilaluna, of our sister planet Poo-ponic. Now that we have finished Volume 1 of the history, we will discuss it with Narrant. Welcome back, professor.

  Narrant:

  Please call me Narrant. I don’t even own a lab coat.

  Vive:

  Poor Antuna and her friends went through a lot. They learned so much, and then things went sour.

  Narrant:

  My ancestors lived much longer on Poo-ponic than insects on Earth, and they got much brighter. [00:31] But intelligence is not the same as wisdom, and instincts are hard to overcome.

  Vive:

  Right, we humans can relate to your story. We did things to other cultures and species throughout our history of which we are not proud.

  Narrant:

  Yes, we too have had our dark times, as you have heard.

  Vive:

  Narrant, would you field some questions from our audience?

  Narrant:

  Yes, of course.

  Vive:

  Joe asks: “What were the psychological effects of such a traumatic experience with the Great Displacement? How did the insects cope on a mental level?” [01:00]

  Narrant:

  Well, Joe, insects are very adaptable creatures. And the Cretaceous period on Earth was a dangerous era, so moving to a planet with few predators was less stressful for many of them.

  Vive:

  Change can sometimes be good, allowing insects to evolve.

  Narrant:

  But as your history tells you, societies can sometimes go through troubles of their own making. On Poo-ponic, things seemed fine, and quite suddenly, they weren’t.

  Vive:

  Here’s another listener question. It’s Fernando from Lima, Peru. [01:28] He asks: “I am amazed that the different insects could communicate so well. Was this because they were getting smarter?”

  Narrant:

  I know humans have studied pheromones and insect communication for decades, but your scientists only saw the tip of the iceberg. Our pheromones do so much more than sound alarms and attract mates. They are our nouns, verbs, expressions, and emotions and allow communication between ants and other insects. They are as complex as any human exchange. [02:02] These interactions existed at a basic level on Earth even before we arrived on Poo-ponic.

  Vive:

  Narrant, that explains a lot. We humans don’t give other species, especially insects, that much credit. Amazingly, Antuna’s family maintained the records of the first colonists for mega-hexs. How is that even possible?

  Narrant:

  As a historian and an ANT, I can tell you that ants are meticulous and have remarkable memories. But it was a concerted effort to pass accurate information from generation to generation. [02:35]

  Vive:

  Incredible.

  Narrant:

  I found stories of various descendants from different periods after insects made written records and diaries. The overlapping parts of the Antuna story were almost identical, so I am confident the tale is entirely accurate. It’s our ancient history, but it is told precisely.

  Vive:

  Although it was a long-kept history, Antuna’s story was very poignant and impactful.

  Narrant:

  Yes, it is almost like your Bible stories for us.

  Vive:

  I can see that—she was brought back to life after her heart stopped, [02:59] became a mother in a way that was not traditional, and inspired insects to care about each other. She sounds like some of our prophets and saints.

  Narrant:

  Of course, she was not perfect, but in time, insects idolized her, and most insects revere those that keep her story. Antunites not only remember her account but also try to live their lives reflecting Antuna’s ideals.

  Vive:

  I have one more question for you from a listener. It’s from fourteen-year-old Heidi in Innsbruck, Austria. She says: [03:32] “I was so upset that the young friends died in your story, but I have learned from my history class that many innocent people die in war. I guess it is the same with insects, but I didn’t realize that insects had evil leaders that start wars for revenge and to wield power.”

  Narrant:

  Yes, Heidi, insects have powerful instincts that drive revenge and the need to rule others, just like some human leaders. Your ancestors probably know this best of all, being at the center of two world wars. [04:00] Like humans, common insects are easy to fool and follow their leaders, often without question.

  Vive:

  But it was so tragic that Antuna and her friends died.

  Narrant:

  As your people say: ‘war is hell.’ There are many examples where humans died in wars or at the hands of those who oppress them.

  Vive:

  I am ashamed to say we have too many examples to name them.

  Narrant:

  But we all must remember them, learn from our past mistakes, and ensure not to repeat them. [04:32]

  Vive:

  Indeed.

  Narrant:

  A President of the United States of America, Dwight Eisenhower, once said: “I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity.” His words remind me of the poignant words of Beefirst after she learned of Antuna’s death: “No deeds can console the sorrows and depression, brought on by the arrows of aggression. And the largest price of war is paid by our youth. Through the loss of innocence, stolen by distortions of honor and truth.” [05:00]

  The End

  APPENDICES

  APPENDIX 1

  Insect time units using heximal counting system as compared to human time

  Insects count using a heximal system (i.e., base 6), and insect time reflects this counting. One hex is approximately equivalent to an Earth year and reflects one orbit of Poo-ponic around its solar star. Other time units use hex as a base and endings similar to a decade, century, and millennium. Except the rise is based on the power of 6 rather than 10. Thus, six times a hex is a hexade, 6X6 or 36 times a hex is a hexury, and 6X6X6 or 216 times a hex is a hexennium. Similar terms are used for months, weeks and days; except that a hexth is one-sixth of a year (about two months), a hexek is one-sixth of a hexth (or about ten days), and a hexay is one-sixth of a hexek (or 10/6 days = 40 hours). The terms hex-hexay (1/6 hexay), hexour, hex-hexour (1/6 hexour), hexute, hexond, and hex-hexond (1/6 hexond) are roughly equivalent to 6.67 hours, 1.1 hours, 11 minutes, 1.8 minutes, 18 seconds, and 3 seconds in human time.