DAYS SURVIVED: 165
COLONY SIZE: 15
DAYS UNTIL FLOODS: 25
Twenty-five days. Three and a half weeks. Less than a month.
The colony entered what Kai started calling the Final Sprint—the last push before disaster. Everything accelerated. Every hour counted. Every decision mattered.
"Final supply inventory," Shadow ordered during morning briefing. "Patch, medical stores. Dig, structural integrity of all surface shelters. Twitchy, complete security audit. Watchers, threat analysis update. Everyone else, your stations. We work until this is perfect."
The colony moved like a machine now. Months of practice. Weeks of refinement. Days of desperate preparation.
They were as ready as they'd ever be.
It still didn't feel like enough.
SUPPLY INVENTORY: DAY 165
Patch's report was thorough but concerning:
"Medical supplies: Adequate for moderate casualties. If we take heavy losses—more than three seriously injured simultaneously—I'll run out of healing moss. The antiseptic compounds are stable but limited. I can synthesize more if needed, but it takes time we won't have during crisis.
"Food reserves: Twenty-eight days at full rations for fifteen individuals. Thirty-five days at reduced rations. Forty-two days if we're willing to accept significant hunger. Water: Cached across seven locations. Enough for twenty-one days if surface sources dry up. Longer if the spring Quick found stays active.
"Psychological reserves..." Patch paused. "Concerning. Everyone's at breaking point. Stress markers are catastrophic. We're running on willpower and terror. When the floods hit, we'll hold together. But afterward—during recovery—we're going to see psychological collapse. Multiple individuals. Maybe including leadership."
"Including me?" Kai asked.
"Especially you. You've been at maximum stress for over a month. You're not sleeping despite Shadow's orders. You're not eating enough. You're burning yourself out to keep everyone else functional. When this is over, you're going to crash hard."
"After the floods. I'll crash after."
"If you crash during, we all die. So you're going to start taking care of yourself. Now. That's not a suggestion—that's a medical order."
Shadow backed Patch up immediately. "Kai eats three meals today. Minimum. And sleeps six hours tonight. I'll physically sit on you if necessary."
"Six hours—"
"Non-negotiable," both Patch and Shadow said in unison.
Kai wanted to argue. Couldn't. They were right, and he knew it.
"Fine. Three meals. Six hours. But that starts tomorrow. Today we finish the inventory."
"Today you start," Patch said firmly. "Or I'm declaring you medically unfit for command and Shadow takes over immediately."
The threat was serious enough that Kai backed down.
STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY: DAY 166
Dig's report was more optimistic:
"Surface shelters: Reinforced to withstand significant flooding. We have seven primary shelters, each capable of housing three individuals comfortably, five in emergency conditions. Thirty-five total capacity if we pack tight.
"Escape routes: Twelve different paths from underground to surface. All verified stable. All marked with chemical signatures both our colony and the ants can read. Redundancy is excellent.
"Weak points: The eastern shelter sits on softer stone. If flooding is severe enough, the foundation might crack. Recommend it as last-resort only. Also, the main water access tunnel shows stress fractures. It'll hold for the floods, but we'll need to rebuild it afterward.
"Overall assessment: We're structurally sound. Not perfect, but solid. We'll survive the initial impact."
"What about the secondary impacts?" Shadow asked. "The flood predators. The territorial pressure afterward. Can our shelters handle extended occupation with potential siege conditions?"
"Depends on the predators. If they're mobile hunters, we're fine—we can outlast them. If they're persistent siege predators that can wait us out, we have problems. Food runs out. Water runs out. Eventually we'd have to fight or relocate."
"So we need to ensure our territory is defensible enough that predators don't bother sieging."
"Exactly. Which means we need visible strength. Defenses that look more trouble than they're worth."
"Twitchy's already on it," Kai said. "Speaking of which—"
SECURITY AUDIT: DAY 166
Twitchy's report was exhaustive:
"Perimeter security: Forty-seven distinct alarm systems. Redundant coverage. Multiple sensor types—vibration, chemical, visual markers. Anything larger than a beetle entering our territory triggers at least three separate alarms.
"Defensive positions: Tank's primary position at the pass is optimal. Line of sight excellent. Defensive advantage significant. Secondary positions identified at six other chokepoints. We can funnel attackers, control engagement parameters, fight on our terms.
"Weak spots: Our northern boundary with the barrier zone. If the ants are occupied elsewhere and something comes from that direction, we're exposed. Recommend rotating guard to cover that approach during high-risk periods.
"Early warning network: Coordination with ant colony's security is excellent. We share threat information in real-time. Combined detection range covers most approaches to high ground. Scorpions and spiders also sharing some intel—not allies, but professional courtesy is developing.
"Assessment: Security is as good as it can be with our numbers. More guards would be better, but we work with what we have."
"The Watchers can supplement guard duty," Watcher-2 offered. "We don't require sleep. Can maintain surveillance indefinitely."
"But you can't fight," Twitchy pointed out. "Detection is only useful if we can respond to threats. You spot something, then what? You're not combat-rated."
"We delay. We obstruct. We provide intelligence on enemy capabilities while combat units respond. This is valuable contribution."
Twitchy considered this. "Okay. Watchers on north boundary surveillance. You spot threats, you fall back and report. Don't engage. Don't take risks. Your documentation is too valuable to lose."
The Watchers acknowledged this with their characteristic flat efficiency: Understood. Non-combat surveillance role accepted.
Kai noticed Twitchy's phrasing—"too valuable to lose" instead of "expendable." Small shift. Subtle. But it suggested the colony was starting to see the Watchers as people rather than tools.
Progress. Tiny, but real.
THREAT ANALYSIS: DAY 167
The Watchers' compiled report took two hours to present. They'd documented everything:
"Surface predators: Twelve species identified. Eight are evacuating to high ground like us. Four are aquatic specialists that will thrive during floods.
"Birds: Three raptor species. Active during day. Avoid them by moving during twilight/dawn. If caught in open during day, freeze and rely on camouflage—motion draws their attention.
"Lizards: Two species. One is small, fast, opportunistic—mostly harmless if we're alert. Second species is large, territorial, extremely dangerous. Spotted three individuals near high ground. Recommend avoidance protocols.
"Scorpions: Colony of thirty-five individuals. Aggressive. Expanding territory. High probability of conflict. Recommend joint response with ant allies if they push into our zone.
"Flood predators: Unknown species. Data from previous floods is eight thousand years old. Current ecology different. Expect surprises. Recommend flexible response plans rather than rigid protocols.
"Tunnel Keeper: Continuing geological maintenance. Non-threat. Has been leaving additional carved stones near our territory—appears to be gifting us warnings. Recommend acknowledging gestures to maintain positive relationship.
"Overall threat level: Extreme but manageable. Survival probability with current preparation: Sixty-eight percent. Recommendation: Maintain course. Continue preparations. Avoid unnecessary conflicts."
"Sixty-eight percent," Shadow repeated. "That's up from sixty-one percent last month. We're improving."
"Or the Watchers are getting better at calculating," Kai said. "Either way, I'll take it. Anything over fifty-fifty odds is a victory."
"What about the unknowns?" Guard asked. "The flood predators we can't predict. How do we prepare for things we can't see coming?"
"We don't," Kai admitted. "We prepare to adapt. We stay flexible. We respond to threats as they emerge rather than trying to predict everything. That's all we can do."
"That's terrifying."
"That's survival. Welcome to the reality."
DAYS SURVIVED: 170
DAYS UNTIL FLOODS: 20
Twenty days. Less than three weeks.
The colony's psychological state was fracturing despite Patch's best efforts.
Strike and Spike got into another fight. This time it wasn't training—it was genuine aggression born from stress and fear and proximity. Guard had to physically separate them.
Dig started experiencing obsessive episodes—excavating frantically without clear purpose, unable to stop even when exhausted, until Shadow had to give direct orders to rest.
Twitchy's paranoia reached new heights. The security chief was checking alarms every fifteen minutes, unable to trust that systems were functioning, wearing grooves into patrol routes from constant rechecking.
Even Tank was showing stress—moving less, eating less, spending long periods motionless in the defensive position. Not guarding. Just... existing. Dissociating.
Patch reported all of this to Kai and Shadow during evening medical review.
"We're breaking," Patch said bluntly. "Not physically—everyone's functional. But psychologically we're fragmenting. The stress is too much. The fear is too constant. And there's no relief in sight."
"What do we do?" Shadow asked.
"Honestly? I don't know. Under normal circumstances, I'd recommend extended rest and trauma therapy. But we don't have time. The floods come in twenty days whether we're ready or not."
"Can we medicate?" Kai suggested. "Use pheromones to reduce anxiety levels?"
"That's a bandaid on a bullet wound. And it has side effects—reduced alertness, slowed reaction times. We need people sharp, not sedated."
"So we just... endure?"
"We endure," Patch confirmed. "We hold together through willpower and desperation. And when the floods pass, we deal with the psychological casualties. But right now? Right now we're in triage mode. We keep everyone functional until crisis passes, then we treat the trauma."
Kai hated it. Hated watching his colony suffer. Hated not being able to fix it.
But Patch was right. Some things couldn't be fixed—only endured.
DAYS SURVIVED: 172
The message from Scar-Mandible arrived at dawn.
Emergency meeting requested. Scorpion colony expanding aggressively. Multiple boundary violations. Combined response required.
Kai brought Shadow, Guard, and Watcher-1 to the meeting point. Scar-Mandible had six soldiers—more than usual, suggesting the threat was serious.
Scorpions have claimed the western approach to high ground, Scar-Mandible reported. All prey species in that corridor eliminated. They're creating a buffer zone. Anyone passing through will be considered hostile.
"That's half the access routes," Kai said. "They're trying to control who reaches safety."
Correct. They're positioning themselves as gatekeepers. Likely planning to extract tribute from smaller colonies desperate to reach high ground.
"That's evil," Shadow said. "Profiteering from disaster."
That's survival strategy, Scar-Mandible corrected. Amoral, but effective. If smaller colonies give up food to pass through, scorpions enter floods with massive resource advantage.
"We need to break their blockade," Guard said. "Open the access routes. Make sure everyone can reach safety."
Militarily sound. Ethically sound. Practically difficult. Scar-Mandible's antennae twitched. Scorpion colony is thirty-five individuals. We have forty-five ants. You have fifteen World Cats. Combined force of sixty. We have numbers advantage.
"But they're entrenched," Kai said. "Fighting into prepared positions. They'll have defenses. Ambush points. They chose the terrain."
Correct. Frontal assault would cost ten to fifteen casualties. Possibly more. Can either colony afford those losses?
"No," Kai and Scar-Mandible said simultaneously.
They considered alternatives. Negotiation—unlikely to succeed when scorpions had superior position. Circumvention—possible but time-consuming, and other colonies didn't have time. Waiting them out—the floods would handle the scorpions, but also all the colonies trapped on the wrong side of the blockade.
Finally, Watcher-1 spoke: Alternative strategy: Psychological warfare. Make scorpions believe cost exceeds benefit. Demonstrate overwhelming force without committing to battle. Create fear rather than corpses.
"How?" Guard asked.
Combined display. Full strength of both colonies. Coordinated demonstration at scorpion perimeter. Aggressive posturing. Chemical warfare—deploy our caustic compounds as warning. Make them realize that even if they win, survivors will be too few and too damaged to exploit advantage.
Scar-Mandible considered this. Risky. If scorpions call bluff, we must follow through or lose credibility. But casualties from fighting would still be high.
"Then we make sure they don't call the bluff," Kai said. "We make the display overwhelming enough that fighting seems like suicide. We commit to the threat completely. And if they force engagement anyway, we hit them with everything we have and end it fast."
Agreed. When?
"Tomorrow. Eighteen days before floods. Give scorpions time to reconsider before weather becomes a factor. If they don't back down, we fight with fifteen days left—enough time to recover before floods."
Acceptable. We gather at dawn. Full force. Maximum aggression. Minimum mercy.
DAYS SURVIVED: 173
THE DEMONSTRATION
Sixty individuals moved as one coordinated force.
Forty-five ants in disciplined formation—soldiers in front, workers in support, perfect military precision.
Fifteen World Cats in tactical positions—hunters leading assault wedge, Tank as mobile anchor, Watchers providing real-time intelligence, Dig and Patch in protected rear positions.
They approached the scorpion blockade at dawn, when light conditions favored neither side.
The scorpions saw them coming. Formed their own defensive line. Thirty-five warriors, all veteran fighters, all positioned in terrain they'd prepared specifically for this.
The two forces stopped fifty body-lengths apart.
Kai stepped forward as World Cat representative. Scar-Mandible as ant representative.
They produced a synchronized pheromone message—amplified by forty-five ants releasing chemicals simultaneously, creating a cloud of scent-communication that couldn't be ignored:
WITHDRAW YOUR BLOCKADE. OPEN THE ROUTES. OR WE REMOVE YOU BY FORCE. YOU HAVE UNTIL SUNSET TO DECIDE.
The scorpion leader—a massive individual with armor that looked ancient and scarred—stepped forward.
Its response was defiant: We claimed this territory. We hold it. You want passage, you pay tribute. You want war, we give war. Your numbers mean nothing against our position.
Kai had anticipated this.
He signaled. The demonstration began.
The ants moved first—synchronized formations that created the illusion of even greater numbers, their coordinated motion making forty-five look like hundreds. Clicking mandibles. Chemical warfare compounds misting the air. War pheromones that made even Kai's instincts scream danger.
Then the World Cats demonstrated their capabilities.
Guard, Strike, and Spike executed a coordinated assault on a boulder—target-practice, but terrifying. Three hunters working as one, dismantling stone with claw and tooth, moving too fast to track individually, functioning as a single lethal organism.
Bitey fought Tank. Not seriously—demonstration combat, carefully choreographed. But spectacular. Bitey's aggressive assault against Tank's immovable defense. The impact of bodies colliding. The shower of displaced earth. The clear message: We have both offense and defense, and both are professional-grade.
Kai deployed his Defensive Spray—caustic compounds that ate through stone, creating visible damage. Not directed at the scorpions, but a clear warning: We have chemical warfare capabilities too.
And the Watchers provided the most unsettling element: perfect stillness. Four observers positioned at cardinal directions, absolutely motionless, utterly silent, watching everything with compound eyes that missed nothing. The message was subtle but clear: We document. We learn. We adapt. You can win a battle, but we'll learn from it and win the war.
The demonstration lasted ten minutes. Then both forces withdrew to neutral positions.
The message was delivered. The threat was credible. The choice was the scorpions'.
"Will they back down?" Shadow asked as the allied force regrouped.
"They'd be smart to," Kai said. "Fighting us costs more than the blockade's worth. But smart and scared don't always overlap."
They maintained position through midday. Watching. Waiting. Ready to fight if necessary.
At mid-afternoon, the scorpion leader approached under peace markers.
We withdraw the blockade, it said. Routes remain open. All species may pass. But we claim the western high ground as our territory. You do not contest this, we do not contest your positions.
"Agreed," Kai said. "Western approaches are yours. Safe passage is everyone's. Peace between our colonies."
Peace. Until floods pass. Then we renegotiate.
"Fair enough."
The scorpions withdrew. The blockade dissolved. The routes opened.
Smaller colonies that had been waiting anxiously began moving toward high ground immediately—beetles, spiders, various insect species that had been trapped.
The alliance had won without fighting. Without casualties. Without cost.
"That was brilliant," Shadow said quietly as they returned home. "We demonstrated strength, avoided war, and opened the routes. Everyone wins."
"Everyone survives," Kai corrected. "That's different from winning. Winning implies someone lost. This was just... mutual survival. Professional courtesy."
"Is that what we are now? Professionals?"
"We're survivors who've learned to cooperate. That's about as professional as this world gets."
DAYS SURVIVED: 175
DAYS UNTIL FLOODS: 15
Fifteen days. Two weeks. The countdown entered its final phase.
The colony entered lockdown mode—no unnecessary risks, no exploration, no projects that didn't directly contribute to flood survival. Everything else was suspended.
They ran evacuation drills daily. Twice daily. Sometimes three times. Shadow timed them obsessively: Two minutes, forty seconds. Two minutes, thirty-five. Two minutes, thirty-two.
Getting faster. Getting sharper. Muscle memory replacing thought.
Kai felt the genetic memory screaming louder now. The forced hibernation was coming—his body preparing for the trauma of surviving something his current size couldn't endure. The World Cat template would force him into chrysalis state, metabolizing his mass to build something larger, more durable, more capable.
He'd wake up different. Stronger. Changed.
If he woke up at all.
"Shadow," Kai said during evening briefing. "If I go into hibernation during the floods, you're in command. No hesitation. No waiting to see if I recover. You lead immediately."
"Kai—"
"No arguments. I've felt the genetic memory's warnings. When crisis hits, my body might force transformation. I could be unconscious for days. Weeks. Maybe longer. The colony needs leadership that's present. That's you."
"The Whisperers," Shadow said quietly. "The ones that activate when you hibernate. They'll help?"
"They're designed to. Through pheromone guidance. Chemical suggestions that feel like intuition. They'll help you make decisions when you're uncertain."
"More slaves serving us."
"More insurance ensuring we survive. I know how you feel about them. But they exist. They'll activate. And they'll be useful. Let them help."
Shadow looked at the sealed vault entrance, three levels below. At the forty pods waiting in stasis.
"After the floods," Shadow said. "If we survive. We're having a serious conversation about all of this. About the Keepers. About what you've built. About whether any of it was worth it."
"If we survive, we can have any conversation you want. But right now—"
"Right now we survive. I know. That's always your answer."
"Because it's always the right answer. Ethics matter, Shadow. But ethics are a luxury we can only afford after we're not in immediate danger of extinction."
"You keep saying that. But I wonder—when do we stop being in danger? When does the emergency end? When do ethics start mattering again?"
Kai didn't have a good answer.
Maybe there was no answer. Maybe survival was a permanent emergency, and ethics were just things you aspired to rather than actually practiced.
Or maybe he was rationalizing. Making excuses. Justifying the unjustifiable.
He honestly didn't know anymore.
"Fourteen days," Kai said quietly. "Ask me again in fourteen days. If we're both still alive, I'll give you a better answer."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
They pressed together briefly—trust and fear and affection despite everything.
The countdown continued.
Fourteen days until the floods.
The end was coming.