And in through the window came a valiant enby, rainbow hair as bright as the flames now licking up every wall. Their boots came down, hard, on an ant between Hawk and the exit, and they had the shovel. Down it came with a ringing metal sound, down upon the back of the ant holding her ankle.

  “Don’t take the head off!” Hawk shouted. “It’ll latch on and it won’t let go!”

  Emile nodded, and jammed the spade into the creature’s mouth instead, wrenching upwards. The mandible broke the way those first, early ants had shattered. “Take that, nanitics,” Em shouted, then began wrenching the shovel between neck and head, now that Hawk’s ankle was free.

  Coughing, she dug the toe of her free foot against the heel of the limb still trapped by insectile tremors and pushed. She managed to get her foot away from the crushing strength of the ant, but she’d laced herself in too well. Cursing, she sat up, directly into the smoke. Holding her breath, she reached down and began undoing laces. Could she get her foot out now? No. Em gave a great Hiya!, and jumped now on the ant holding her toe. Instead of smashing with the hammer, Emile dropped knees down on the creature, their grip on legs sure and their expression intense. “Now, Hawk. We don’t have much time.”

  Hawk knew it. Her head was spinning and she wanted air. Smoke inhalation was deadly. She pulled, hard, and ripped her foot out of the boot. Then she hurried for the window, ignoring all else. Even the sharp glass cutting her hands was less important than that first gulp of cool air. She felt the pain, she felt the dizziness, and she poured herself from the window onto her destroyed lawn and lay there for precious few minutes, breathing.

  “Roll your ass away,” Em said, and Hawk did, giving her friend just enough space to thump down out of the house themself. And neither of them were followed.

  Hawk started to collapse once more. Emile cursed, reached down and began dragging her further away from the house. She wanted to protest and say I can walk, but Emile was faster than Hawk’s thinking processes right now. Soon they were up against the bug-gut-festooned shed, as distant sirens began to sound and flame leapt out of each window.

  “You think we got ‘em?” Emile asked.

  “I don’t know,” Hawk said, and whimpered as she looked at her foot. It wasn’t mangled, precisely, but the growing throb in it suggested a larger injury than she’d been ready for. She took a few more deep breaths. “They ate the orb, Em. That’s where they came from. The little fucks ate the goddamn Orb. We had the archetypical ant in there and I just killed it, and they ate the goddamn Orb.” This last came out with a sob.

  “Hawk, it’s okay.” Em said. They did not sound okay.

  “I should have killed her. I should have killed the Queen. She’d have an Orb, too.”

  “You don’t know that for sure,” Em said, sounding even less okay.

  “Kali’Mar had one.” She tried to calm her breathing, and her lungs weren’t having it. Words came between gulps, breath harsh. Her throat felt scalded. “I could have done it. If I’d thought for a minute, I could have saved Henry.”

  “Henry is dead. The Shadow thing is a long shot,” Emile said, as if they didn’t sob on the first sentence. “I know that. And you would have died. Without the fire, you would have been overpowered. With the fire, you had barely enough time to get out.”

  “But Henry—”

  “I lost him!” Emile suddenly shouted. “And Fuck you if you think I’d be okay losing you in trade! You’re my friend. You’re one of the few friends I’ve got.”

  “But I could have—”

  “I can’t lose you too!” Emile shouted, finally overpowering Hawk’s self flagellation. “I need you. You knew him.”

  The sirens were almost here. Soon Hawk would have to answer to firemen, and probably the cops. An arson charge for burning down her own home. If she’d done it right, there wouldn’t be any proof of the giant ants within…though they did have some rather goopy remains out here. The gaster Emile had cracked open was still half full of lipids and ichor, and organ shapes in unfamiliar lines. Maybe that would be enough to keep her out of jail.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “You know this stuff, too. You’re one of the few who will get it, now. Henry’s dead, and without the Orb—”

  “Without an Orb,” Hawk said, sitting up as the first of the fire-engines painted the world red with flashing light. “Oh, god. I’m an idiot. There’s more orbs out there.”

  “Yeah. If you want to take down another God,” Emile said…and then stared at their friend in horror.

  “Exactly,” Hawk said. “We’ve gotta go back to Holia.”

  ***

  Talking to the fire department and police was rather difficult, until a phone call to Mulligan got them all off her back. Showing them the remains of the very large insects in the back yard helped a little bit, though accusations of Hoax were quickly thrown around. Hawk was pretty sure she was about to be arrested when Mulligan’s work came through in the form of phone calls and resentful looks as she was told she could go. Whereupon she was immediately assailed by well meaning paramedics, who insisted she be held overnight for smoke inhalation. They were harder to negotiate with than the firemen; threatening them with a general didn’t seem to accomplish much more than irritation. Finally they agreed to let her sit for ten minutes, on oxygen, while Emile handled the cops. They handled the cops very well. Hawk nearly felt sorry for them.

  ***

  The flight back to Boston was a lot harder to get than the flight out. Apparently Logan was completely shut down to incoming flights; only outbound planes were allowed. Mulligan had somewhat anticipated this, and there was a promised plane waiting on the tarmac, military cut and color of course. But even getting to that plane required some fast talking on both their parts. One woman, one enby, traveling alone to what many news stations were calling the most dangerous place on earth? The number of people who took it upon themselves to try and get between Hawk and her goal was almost impressive.

  But eventually they got through, got to the plane, and got in the air. Where, again, Hawk only had time to think. She held the shattered, useless orb-core in one hand, remembering with regret the beauty and kindness of the Ape. A part of her had thought that this could make that death worth it. But no, her own stupidity had cost them that victory—

  This was the point where Emile, rolling their eyes, had told her, “If you accept any more blame for this fuck-up, I’m going to pitch you out of this airplane myself.”

  “But I put the Orb in the tub with the ants!” She said.

  “You didn’t know that shit was edible at the time, or that it would have bad effects on the things that ate it.”

  “It’s only bad from our perspective,” Hawk said. There’d been a bit of that goddess glory sense around the ant Queen. Hawk had just been too scared, too angry, and too determined to let it affect her.

  “Hawk. Giant fire ants would be incredibly bad. Giant sentient fire ants would be even worse.”

  “We got no sign they were sentient.” Hawk said.

  “Which is good! But nothing says we weren’t in the nascent stages of what that Ape went through. You did the best thing you could think of. Besides, absolute power corrupts absolutely. We’ve seen that in play. You nearly created an ant Nasheth, but you killed it before it could get there. You can relax. You aren’t Kaiser.”

  Oh, that last barb went straight to the quick. “Aren’t I?”

  Em sighed, disgusted. “How about you do something real spectacular and go to sleep. You’re running on fumes. On less than fumes. And so am I. We can’t be perfectly logical when we’re tired.”

  Hawk felt bound to point out, “We aren’t logical when we aren’t tired.”

  “Exactly. We’re already working at a deficit. I’m serious, Hawk, let go of this shit for a little while and get some goddamn rest.” And, as if to force the desired result, they themselves rolled over on a part of the military cargo they were sharing a hold with, covered themselves with their own coat, and began making loud-ish snoring noises.

  “Em—” Hawk said.

  “Can’t hear you. Go to sleep,” Emile said.

  Hawk glared at her friend, then chose to follow their example. She leaned back, letting her head rest on the cool metal surface. And it took surprisingly little time for sleep to reach for her. There was something thick and cloying about it, like the promise of bad dreams, but she still sank into it with a sense of gratitude. She hadn’t been ready, after all, for this part of the adventure: the silence. The spaces between applause, so to speak. The crisis so far ahead that she could not respond yet. There was only the guilt-invoking urge to care for herself. And that never felt right. It seemed like theft from the desperate, to take time to herself while the world was caving in. How could she rest when there were people in need? When Alex was gone and the Shadow was all that was left? When Henry Dyson was dead? She should be winging towards them, cure in hand, and instead she was stuck in the bowels of an airplane for five hours, empty handed.

  But not without ideas.

  As sleep crept up, thick and black and hemorrhagic, the small seed of an idea began to germinate. She needed an Orb. This had been the easy one, the simple answer. Now it was gone, and it was time to return to plan B.

  Ragnar?k, she thought, as sleep claimed her. We’re back at last to Ragnar?k.