BAD BLOOD BETWEEN RANKS: TRUST FRACTURED

"It seems the Queen and Anastasia have taken a liking to you... haven't they?"

A beat passed, thick with admiration—until Darren's voice sliced through the air like a jagged blade.

"I guess saving the colony fast-tracks promotions these days." His words dripped with sarcasm. "Or maybe there's something I'm missing. Why is a Lance Corporal suddenly a Lieutenant?"

Ari blinked.

He knew exactly what Darren was implying.

The handshake between them still hadn't broken—tight, unnecessary, and lasting a few seconds too long. When Ari finally began to pull back, the pressure lingered. It wasn't a greeting.

It was a challenge.

Isla stepped slightly to the side, head tilted, her gaze flicking curiously between the two. Rory's jaw tightened. The usual light in his face was gone. Neither spoke, but the tension was undeniable.

Darren's eyes stayed locked on Ari—not with respect or recognition. No, what lay behind that stare was colder. Sharper.

Ari forced a smile and shifted the topic. "You and Anastasia know each other?"

Darren gave a lazy shrug, pretending ease. "We trained together. Recruits. New blood in the military ranks. She was always fierce. Cold. Calm. Never needed help. Just did the job—better than anyone else." His eyes glazed for a moment, as though lost in memory. "Even before she had rank, she led like she was born for it. Never relied on anyone—not in a fight, not for backup."

A pause followed, something flickering in his expression—nostalgia, maybe. Then it hardened.

"But it seems—she made an exception."

The bitterness in his voice was quiet—just beneath the surface—but unmistakable.

He muttered under his breath, almost too softly to catch, "She used to talk to me during missions, back then."

A short silence.

"Not so much anymore, I guess."

Just then, Darren's eyes shifted over Ari's shoulder. His body stiffened—only slightly, but enough for Ari to notice.

Anastasia was approaching.

Her stride was steady, deliberate. Conversations in the area dulled to a hush, the air tightening as if the atmosphere itself bent around her presence.

Darren straightened instinctively, his face reforming into the mask of a soldier. Bitterness, resentment—gone beneath a veneer of duty.

When he looked back at Ari, he forced a smile—tight and humorless. "Well, Lieutenant," he said, drawing out the word like it tasted foul, "I'm sure we'll be working together real close."

He gave a stiff nod, then pivoted and strode off—brushing past Anastasia without a word, posture rigid as steel.

Anastasia's eyes followed him, unreadable. Then they turned briefly to Ari.

"We need to speak, Lieutenant Ari. Report to my chambers immediately. And don't keep me waiting."

"Uh… right. I'll be there," Ari said, instinctively straightening his back.

She continued walking, saying nothing else—passing through the room as if Darren had never existed.

Ari exhaled. He hadn't even realized he'd been holding his breath.

The warmth of the celebration had cooled, just a little. A faint shadow now hovered over the glow.

Rory crossed his arms, still watching Darren's retreating figure. "I don't like that ant," he muttered. "Gives me a bad feeling."

Isla didn't answer right away. Her gaze lingered on Ari, thoughtful and quiet.

"I didn't serve in the military long," she said at last, "but from what I just saw… you should be careful. There's something off about him."

Ari stared down at his palm—the one Darren had held a moment too long.

"Yeah," he murmured. "Definitely not a welcoming one."

Ari's new rank still sat awkward on his shoulders. Part of him wanted to laugh—he hadn't even been an ant two month ago. And now, soldiers were sizing him up and glaring at him like he'd stolen something they'd bled years and still didn't earn.

Anastasia's chamber was one of the largest and most meticulously designed spaces within the colony—a testament to her status.

Unlike the single-room quarters assigned to most soldier ants, hers was an intricate network of hollowed tunnels and interconnected rooms built into one of the colony's strongest inner walls. The sleeping quarters were layered with moss and fungus, grown not just for insulation but for comfort—an unheard-of luxury among foot soldiers.

At the heart of her chambers lay the meeting room: a flattened oval space lined with bioluminescent algae that shimmered in soft blues and greens, casting an ambient glow on the polished chitin walls. The floor sloped gently inward, with silk-woven platforms reinforced by hardened resin—a design meant for high-level gatherings and strategic briefings.

To Ari, who had spent most of his time in cramped stone-like cells or communal barracks, it felt like stepping into another world.

"So this is Anastasia's chamber," Ari muttered to himself. "First time I've been here. Definitely better than mine… Wonder what she wants to talk about."

"I doubt she calls just anyone here. And knowing her, whatever this is… it's probably important. I wonder if it has something to do with Sergeant Darren."

He stepped further in and called out, "Commander Anastasia?"

"Come through the tunnels, Ari. You'll find me there," came her voice.

Following the corridor, he entered the main chamber—and was surprised to see someone already seated.

"Lily? What are you doing here?"

"Anastasia summoned me," she said with a smirk. "But the real question is—why are you here?"

"She summoned me too," Ari replied, still unsure why she wanted to see him.

"All right, both of you—take a seat," Anastasia said, stepping into view. Her tone was calm, but it carried the usual weight of authority.

"First of all, congratulations. Becoming Lieutenants so quickly is no small feat. Your performance during the war made it possible."

"Getting praised by you, Commander? That's the best reward," Lily said, grinning. "Beatrice is going to be so jealous. I'll have to tease her later."

"Focus, Lily," Anastasia said, though a small sigh escaped her lips.

Turning to Ari, she continued. "You've only recently joined our colony. And from what I can gather, you didn't receive any proper training in your last one."

"Um… that's true," Ari admitted.

Well, actually, I didn't come from a colony. I was a human from Earth. But explaining that again would just get me strange looks. Again.

"Which is why I'm assigning Lieutenant Lily to give you a proper tour. You need to understand our caste structure, daily responsibilities, and military hierarchy."

She folded her arms, tone shifting into explanation mode.

"I'm one of the highest-ranking officers in the colony's army. My main responsibilities include training, internal defense, and tactical deployment. Occasionally, I'm sent on high-risk expeditions for resources."

"Both Lily and Beatrice served under me when I was a Lieutenant," she added. "But now, Lily answers to Commander Brooks—he oversees the assault division and battlefield strategies."

"And Beatrice?" Ari asked.

"She's still a Sergeant under my command. She splits her time between frontline patrols and training new soldiers."

Anastasia's gaze narrowed slightly. "As for you, Ari… I'm not sure where you stand. You've been idle since the war ended."

"I didn't mean to slack off," Ari said quickly. "I just didn't know what I was supposed to be doing."

"Well, now that you're a Lieutenant, you're expected to either lead or join one of the major divisions. Personally, I'd prefer you under my command, working in training.

Lily raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Wait a second… Is the legendary cold-hearted Commander getting sentimental? Or is it just because of Ari?" She crossed her arms, mimicking Anastasia's stance. "'I would like you to work under me,'" she said in a mock-stern voice.

Anastasia shot her a glare."That's not what I meant. Ari has shown promise on the battlefield. I want to see whether he can pass on those instincts to new recruits."

Ari smirked. "If you want me to work under you, Commander… all you have to do is ask."

Anastasia's eyes snapped to him—sharp.

"Right. Sorry," Ari coughed, straightening.

Lily burst into laughter. "You're seriously the first person to get a reaction out of her. She was so icy as a Lieutenant, even my jokes never worked."

"You know, Anastasia trained me and Beatrice back when she was just a Sergeant," Lily said, smirking. "She was young, yeah—but ruthless. I could barely catch my breath. The training she put you through? That was light work compared to our training."

"Enough, Lily," Anastasia said, voice clipped.

"Sorry, Commander," Lily said, still grinning.

Anastasia took a breath and moved on. "Regardless, we're in winter now. No wars. No raids. Just… peace. It won't last, but for now, it's time to prepare. You'll need something to keep you sharp."

"I understand," Ari replied.

"You'll get a better feel for our structure through Lily's tour. Talk to others. Observe. Ask questions. Then decide your path."

Lily stood, stretching. "Guess I'm your guide now. Hope you're ready to learn, Lieutenant."

Ari nodded. "I'm ready."

"Good," Anastasia said, her voice softening just a touch. "Dismissed."

Darren's quarters were plain, carved deep into the lower level of the barracks—just wide enough to hold his bed woven from sticks and leaves, and a small, rough stone resting near the corner. The faint glow of bioluminescent fungi clung to the walls, casting eerie, wavering shadows across the chamber. On that stone, a name was carved deep and deliberate—Anastasia. The very same she had etched after a brutal battle with rogue ants, a silent testament to her unyielding will.

A lone warden ant stood rigid before him, waiting.

"Change the patrol shift on the eastern trench," Darren ordered flatly. "Inform Corporal Bresh of the new night rotation. I want fresh eyes watching that route."

"Yes, Deputy Chief Warden Darren." The warden snapped a sharp salute and disappeared silently into the tunnels.

Darren stayed still, the low hum of the colony's heartbeat pressing in on him. Then, without warning, a memory surged forward—sharp and unbidden.

He had been just a private then.

That mission—the fly ambush near the outer cliffs. His squad was surrounded, outmatched. The flies were faster, stronger, brutal. He recalled the pounding fists—each strike like a stone crashing against his chitin. One shattered his left shoulder; another sent him sprawling into the dirt, vision blurring, limbs trembling.

I can't hold out much longer… he whispered, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

Then—a flash.

Steel mandibles sliced through the air, cleaving the fly looming over him. Dark blood spattered the stone beneath the strike.

He looked up, stunned.

It was her.

Anastasia.

She stood silent over the corpse, blade still dripping. Then she turned, expression unreadable, eyes cold as the deepest winter frost—unwavering and unshaken.

"If you can't handle fighting flies," she said, voice sharp and cold, "then find somewhere to hide. Take cover. Or retreat back to the colony."

She hadn't come to save him. She came to finish the fight.

Back then, he admired her. Respected her. Feared her.

She was the very embodiment of warrior and leader.

But now…

His thoughts drifted—toward Ari.

To the reports of how they fought Hopper side by side. To the way Anastasia's gaze softened around him, how she allowed herself rare moments of ease and trust. She even smiled sometimes—a side Darren had never seen.

His hands clenched at his sides, antennae twitching involuntarily.

But there was another battle.

The one he never spoke of.

The one that haunted every fiber of his being.

They were outnumbered. The wasps swarmed them from the air, stinger spears in hand. The cries of military ants echoed in the distance—shrill and maddening. Darren's squad had formed a half-circle around the wounded Lily, who had two petals on her left shoulder. She was a Lance Corporal at the time.

The line was thin. Too thin.

"Hold the position!" Beatrice shouted, shaking in fear. She was a Lance Corporal back then as well.

Then came her voice.

Calm. Controlled. Commanding.

"Stand your ground," Anastasia said—her tone like a mandible tip pressed against his back.

"We will make it out of this alive, so don't give in to fear. This isn't our last day."

"Yes, Sergeant Anastasia!" they all shouted in unison.

He remembered looking over. She was at the front—chitin scored with dirt and blood, a wound across her shoulder. Her mandibles gleamed with fresh ichor. They were outnumbered by a stronger species, yet still she showed no fear, and was prepared to give her life for the safety of her comrades.

While he was trembling in fear for his own.

The strength of the wasps was overwhelming. They were barely hanging on by a thread. Anastasia noticed and decided to snap him out of it.

"You leave this post, Sergeant Darren…" she didn't raise her voice. She didn't have to.

"...and you'll never be the same."

He was shaking. He remembered that.

He hated it.

Legs trembling. Mandibles clenching weakly in his hands.

The buzzing grew louder—closer.

"He wanted to believe her.

But the fear was louder than her voice.

"I—I can't," he whispered. "I'm sorry…"

A screech broke the sky. A wasp dove from above.

And Darren turned—

—and ran.

He didn't look back.

Not when the screams started.

Not when Beatrice called his name.

Not when Lily cried out in pain.

Not when the formation shattered behind him.

Didn't stop until the wasps were out of sight—

and the battlefield was behind him.

Darren sat alone in his quarters now, fingers brushing the carved stone in the corner. The name etched into it stared back at him:

Anastasia.

She never reported him. Never reprimanded him.

She didn't need to.

She never spoke to him again.

That silence cut deeper than any punishment.

"She never looked at me that way," he whispered bitterly.

A heavy silence settled.

Then, low and venomous beneath his breath—

"You damn outsider… You took everything I ever hoped for."

He clicked his tongue in the silence.

"You'll pay for that—with more than just your blood."