August never thought he’d look back on the journey from Westendale to Gardewall with fondness, but there he was. He mostly missed the road. Farscout was a fine guide, and he clearly knew where he was going. He’d never stopped once to second guess himself. But his route often led them over grown-out fields of tangles and thorns. Now and then, the terrain would be replaced by a stretch of loose sand, but that was almost worse. The blistering sun wasn’t much help. August cooked in his armor. The heat, exertion, and the waning hangover all worked together to ruin his day. His head hadn’t stopped pounding since he’d woken up that morning, and he doubted it would stop any time soon.

The sound of sharp wings cutting the air caught his ear just as Farscout raised a halting fist. The squad members fell prone in the thorny bushes. They all gathered near Wolf and Farscout except for Rosek, who collapsed her mech suit so that it looked like a boulder a couple of dozen yards back.

“What is it?” Wolf asked.

“Bugs,” Farscout whispered.

“I heard it, too,” August said.

“West, you take them out,” Sterling said. “I’ve got to conserve what poison I have left for the nest.”

“I’ll get on it as soon as I spot them,” the sniper assembled his gun.

They flew into view from the north. August grimaced at the sight of them. They were different than the classic dolorium he’d learned about at the academy. These didn’t have horns or fangs or even stingers, and they flew in lazy arcs. Their bodies were narrow, almost shriveled. What looked like loose skin hung where their stingers should be.

“Disgusting,” Sterling said. “If any creature ever deserved a good whiff of my gas, it’s these ones.”

“Incoming fire,” West said as he aimed his massive rifle.

Farscout held up a fist again. “Wait. Don’t shoot.”

West pulled his barrel to the side.

“What the Hel are you talking about?” Sterling snapped.

“Easy, Colonel,” Wolf said. He turned to their guide. “Explain.”

“They aren’t dangerous,” Farscout said. “These don’t bite or sting. We call them worker bees. They just go around gathering resources for the nest.”

“All the better reason to kill them,” Sterling said. “West, take the shot.”

“No,” Wolf said as West aimed again. “There’s no use shooting and calling a bunch of attention to ourselves unless it’s in self-defense. Let them gather their pollen or nectar, or whatever it is they do, and we’ll smoke’em out at the nest. Got it?”

West disassembled his rifle and belted it. Sterling sneered as he watched the lumbering dolo flutter their way across the horizon. “You’d better be right about this.”

“I’m certain,” Farscout said.

The dolo descended far ahead of the squad. Five more came from another direction to join the three the squad had been watching. Horrible shrieks filled the air as what looked like a fight broke out among the bugs.

“What are they doing?” Belmont asked.

“I…” Wolf stared at the display in wonder. “Ace!”

August crawled over to the general.

“You still remember your runner’s training, Private?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Go and scout them out. Watch them and come back with a report on what exactly in Hel they’re doing.”

“Yes, Sir!”

He got to his feet but kept low, and then he did the one thing he’d always been better than anyone else at doing: he ran. His tired legs felt even worse because of his crouching, but he had an order to follow, and he’d messed up enough already on this mission.

Once he was close enough to make out what he saw, he fell prone again, took less than a minute to catch his breath, and watched. Indeed, these dolo didn’t seem as dangerous as others they’d met thus far. The three original ones fought the five new ones, but they didn’t bite, or sting, just as Farscout said. Instead, they simply flew into each other with as much force as their speed could muster, and usually, the bigger bug won. The three originals were nearly twice the size of the five newer ones, and the fighting didn’t last long before the smaller ones fled back to the south, leaving the three alone. But what were they fighting over?

August crawled closer. He decided he could risk it as there wasn’t much danger in being spotted by these creatures. If any threatening bugs were in the vicinity, these weaker ones surely would have called out to them for help during the minor skirmish with the other bugs. Worst-case scenario: August would just have to blast them away.

The dolo hovered over the battlefield for a moment before finally descending. A sickening sucking sound followed soon after. It sounded like an old, dying man trying to blow air into a massive balloon but failing and having every breath retract back into his feeble chest. The sound chilled August’s bones, but he had orders. He crawled closer.

There was something white on the ground. It looked round and unnatural. He couldn’t tell what it was, but the dolo were on it, and it was likely what the fighting had been over. He got closer. He came as close as he was willing to get. A stone’s throw away from any dolo, even these harmless ones, was closer than any sane person should want to get. Something peaked over the surface of thorny bushes. August raised his head to get a better view. It looked like a thin sheet of leather that was being lifted by hot air.

August raised his head a bit more and felt sick. It wasn’t a sheet of leather. It was the dolorium’s ass. Two more popped up, all within five yards of each other. The creatures had been sucking something from whatever the unnatural white things were, and now their abdomens were swelling like a gluttonous mosquito having more than its fair share of blood. He wanted to look away, but he had orders. He couldn’t get back to the others with “they sucked something and got fat” as his only gathered information. So he watched.

The grotesque spectacle went on for another ten minutes before the creatures finally lifted off and flew away. He expected them to be grounded by extra weight or simply due to their new bulky shapes, but the wings didn’t seem fazed. They returned to the north, performing the same lazy arcs they’d displayed on their way in.

August waited until they were well out of sight before getting up and moving to the spot they’d just left. The white items he’d glimpsed were indeed unnatural. There were three of them. One for each dolo. He approached and lifted each one to test their weight. “Empty,” he said aloud. “Since when do dolorium feed on propane?”