Hellstrom's Hive

by Frank Herbert

  Tymiena saw one flank of the sweep just as the first searchers saw her, confirming Old Harvey’s prediction. Early in her flight, she had tripped in a rabbit hole and sprained her left ankle. The pain had forced her to make the climb into a low oak where she had braced herself in a notch and taken off the shoe on the injured foot. She sat wedged in the notch about twenty feet up, the little automatic held firmly in her right hand now. A powerful little pen-size flashlight was in her left hand, her thumb on its switch.

  The ankle throbbed with a fiery pain that made thought difficult. She wondered if she had broken a bone.

  Running cattle gave her the first indication of trouble. She heard them snorting above the pounding of their hooves as they passed. Then came a mysterious swish-swish hissing. This sound grew louder until it circled her tree and stopped. She could just make out the darker shadows of the hunters in the blackness. They had formed a rough circle all around her.

  In panic, she thumbed the flashlight switch, swept its beam in a short arc around the part of the circle that faced her. At first sight of the nightmasks and stunwands, she gasped, recognizing deadly menace. Without thinking, she began shooting.

  The words of Nils Hellstrom.

  Perhaps, in time we will become fully functional as are those we copy. We will develop faces without expression; only eyes and mouth; just enough to keep the rest of the body alive. No muscles to smile with, or frown with, or in any way to betray what’s lurking beneath the surface.

  The little automatic erupted as a monstrous surprise to the Hive’s hunters. Five of them were dead before Tymiena was brought tumbling from the tree by a concentration of stuns. Old Harvey was among those killed, his nightmask shattered and a bullet in his brain. Saldo suffered a bullet burn on his jaw, but his shouted command brought order to the frightened workers. They had been full of “hunt juice,” as the old-timers put it, and the Outsider female’s attack had raised them to a deadly pitch. They leaped in to finish her off with their hands, but Saldo’s cry stopped them. In the end, it was Hive discipline that kept them off her.

  Saldo moved up to the unconscious female, issued swift orders. Someone must run to inform Nils. The dead must be returned to the vats. That was what good workers deserved. Thus, they became one with all. “Into the vats old, out of the vats new.”

  When his orders were being obeyed, he knelt to examine the unconscious female. Her flashlight still glowed in the grass. He pushed his nightmask back onto his head, used the flashlight to help his examination. Yes, she was still alive. It was difficult to conduct the examination calmly. He felt hate filling him. This one had harmed the Hive. Nils needed her, though. The Hive needed her. Saldo managed a kind of calm as he continued his examination. She appeared to have no broken bones. A painful ankle, obviously. It was swelling and discolored. Workers had suffered much worse, though, and gone on with their tasks. He directed that her weapon be found and returned to the Hive.

  Old Harvey’s death neither saddened nor gladdened him. Such things occurred. It would have been better had it not happened, but the reality could not be avoided. The reality had placed him in command of the search troop and he was required to give correct orders. That was how Old Harvey had taught him to behave.

  There was the Outsider female to be sure of first. He judged that she could be revived for questioning. That would please Nils. It pleased Saldo now. He began to sense a greater interest in this female. She was possessor of fascinating odors. There were alien Outsider soaps and perfumes over faint, but familiar, musks. He bent close to sniff at her, the first Outsider female he’d ever encountered alone in the wild. Beneath the dominant acridity of her fear there were exciting odors. He slipped a hand under her blouse, felt a breast, found it full and firm under a restraining garment. He knew about such garments from his training for key worker roles. It was called a bra and was fastened with metal hooks at the back. She was a true female, apparently no different from females of the Hive, and the available evidence said she was fertile. How odd these wild Outsiders were. He moved his hand down under her waistband, explored the pubic hair and genitals, brought the hand out and smelled it. Yes, fertile. So it was true that Outsider females wandered around when they were fertile. Did they go on a mating hunt of some kind as a brood mother was supposed to do? The books, the films, and the lectures of his education had not prepared him for the actuality, although he could rattle off the facts readily enough. She excited him and he wondered if Nils would entertain a suggestion that she be kept for breeding. It would be interesting to breed with her.

  A female in his band snarled at him then, a wordless sound of deep menace. Another said, “This Outsider female isn’t a breeder! What are you doing with her?”

  “I investigate,” Saldo said. “She is fertile.”

  The one who had snarled at him found her voice, “Many of these wild ones are fertile.”

  The other said, “She killed five of us. She’s fit only for the vats.”

  “Where she probably will go when we have finished questioning her,” Saldo said. He spoke without trying to conceal an abrupt feeling of sadness. This Outsider female would be destroyed by the questioning; no doubt of it. That was happening to the captive male and it could be no different for the female. Such a waste. Her flesh would be good for nothing but the vats.

  He arose, restored his nightmask to its position over his nose, and said, “Bind her and carry her to the Hive. See that she does not escape. Two of you go to her vehicle. Bring it in for salvaging. Erase its tracks. There must be no sign remaining that this female and her companion were in our vicinity. See to it.”

  The orders came from his mouth as Harvey had taught him, but Saldo felt a form of despair that such commands were necessary. The responsibilities of leadership had fallen upon him so abruptly. A remote part of his awareness realized that Harvey’s choice of so young a worker as second-in-command on this search had been a training gesture. A promising young worker needed this experience. Another part of Saldo’s awareness rested securely in his sense of competence. He was a specialist in Hive security. He trusted his own responses. Despite his youth, he felt perfectly fitted for the task at hand, as though the entire Hive were reacting through his person. Harvey had lived beyond his day, had paid for a mistake with his life. It was a serious loss to the Hive. Nils would have the news of it by now and there would be concern, but for the moment, Saldo knew he must proceed alone. His was the seat of command.

  “Those of you without other tasks,” he said, “see that no sign of our activities remains here. I do not know all of your talents as Old Harvey did, but you know them. Divide yourselves according to your abilities. No one of you is to return to the Hive until it is done. I will remain until the last to inspect the job.”

  He stooped, recovered the flashlight he had left beside the Outsider female, extinguished it, put it in his pocket. Workers already had bound the female and were ready to take her back to the Hive. It saddened Saldo that he would never see her again. He didn’t think he wanted to watch the questioning. A sudden anger at Outsider stupidity shook him. They were such fools! Whatever happened to her, she deserved it.

  Saldo glanced around at his troop. They were busy obeying his orders and they appeared content on the surface, but he sensed an air of uncertainty underneath. They knew how young and untried he was. They obeyed out of habit. In truth, they were still obeying Harvey. But Harvey had made a fatal mistake. Saldo promised himself that he would not make such a mistake.

  “Get down on your hands and knees and be thorough,” he said. “Two of the nightmasks were shattered. There will be splinters to recover. Get them all.”

  Saldo wandered up through the tall grass toward the place where he knew two of his troop were readying the vehicle for removal to the Hive. She had come down this way, that Outsider female. How odd it was that they wandered around freely when they were fertile, as though they had no concern whatsoever about selecting the best male for breeding. In truth, they were not
like a brood mother at all. They were merely wild, fertile females. Perhaps someday, when there were many hives, such wild females would be captured and put to proper breeding, or they would be neutered and employed in useful work.

  Some of the cattle that had fled the scene of disturbance had returned, drawn by curiosity, no doubt. They were bunching up in the open below the place where his troop worked, and they were facing the troop. The smell of blood and the noise had left them on edge, but they offered no threat. The cattle could not see his workers, but his workers could see the cattle. Saldo held his stunwand at the ready and moved to place himself between the cattle and his troop. A good imagination could guard against the unexpected. If the cattle charged, they would be knocked down by one sweep of his stunwand.

  As he moved, Saldo stared off across the rangeland toward the distant glow of the town, a dim reflection on clouds. It wasn’t likely anyone that far away had heard the shooting, but even if they had, they would be sensible. Townsmen had learned to be reticent and cautious about Guarded Valley. The Hive possessed a buffer there, too, in the person of the district deputy sheriff, Lincoln Kraft. He was Hive-born and one of the most successful fronts they’d ever produced. Other Hive observers moved as ordinary Outsiders in the town, as well. There were even more important fronts in the Outside world. Saldo had seen two of them when they visited the Hive: a senator and a judge. They filled dangerous posts that someday would not be needed.

  The sounds of his troop busily carrying out his orders pleased Saldo. He sniffed at the night air, detected a smell of gunpowder. Only the Hive-trained would be likely to recognize that now. It was but a faint trace among many other odors.

  The cattle began to quiet down and a few left the bunched herds to graze. This annoyed Saldo. Bunched up, the cows did not offer temptation, but he knew how disturbed his workers were. One of them could conceivably take a lone cow. That must be prevented. This would be Hive land someday, and they might even have their own cattle. But for now, such protein cost too much in plant energy. Such wastefulness must be left to the profligate Outsiders and their cattle must not be molested on this night. Nothing to attract unwanted attention must occur here.

  Saldo returned to his workers, moved among them, speaking in a low voice. They must not take any cattle. There must be time for this earth to conceal marks that were not erased. No suspicious Outsiders must appear here for as long as possible.

  Someday, Saldo told himself, there would be other hives, many of them sprung from this one parent he served which now must conceal all trace of itself from the Outsiders. For now, they must be cautious and guard their future. They owed this to generations of countless workers as yet unborn.

  The words of Nils Hellstrom.

  Our main breeding lines must be designed with the utmost attention to Hive necessities. In this, we walk a much tighter edge than do the insects who provide us with our model for survival. Their life begins as ours, with fertilization of a single cell, but the miracle of creation differs for us from that point onward. In the time it takes a single human embryo to develop, an insect can produce over four hundred billion of his own kind. We can increase our Hive birthrate many times over, but never can we hope to match this proliferation.

  A worker came down the beaten-grass path from the Hive, waving to attract Saldo’s attention. There was still no sign of dawnlight, but it had turned colder as it often did here just before daybreak. The worker stopped in front of Saldo and spoke in a low voice. “Someone’s coming from the Hive.”

  “Who?”

  “I think it is Nils himself.”

  Saldo turned his attention in the direction indicated by the worker, recognized the oncoming figure by his gait. Yes, it was Nils. He wore a nightmask, but carried no wand. Saldo put down a sense of relief tempered by a surge of displeasure. His decisions had been the correct ones, but Hellstrom chose to come personally. Immediately, Saldo chided himself. He could almost hear the reprimand in Harvey’s aging voice: Isn’t that what you would do? The leader of the Hive could do no less. This thought restored Saldo’s feeling of calm competence. He greeted Hellstrom casually.

  Hellstrom stopped a few paces from Saldo, examined the scene before speaking. He had seen Saldo at the instant the younger worker had identified him. The recognition had been obvious in Saldo’s movements. The loss of Old Harvey touched Hellstrom deeply, but he noted with approval that Saldo was doing all the necessary things. Saldo had the instincts of a good protector.

  “Tell me what has happened and what you have done,” Hellstrom said.

  “Have you had no report from the ones I sent to you?”

  “They reported, but I would prefer that the leader of this search troop give me his own assessment. Sometimes, workers miss important things.”

  Saldo nodded. Yes, that was wise. He told Hellstrom of the discovery of the Outsider female, the shooting, left out no detail, even to the wound on his own jaw.

  “Should your wound be treated?” Hellstrom asked, peering at it. What devilish bad luck if they lost Saldo, too!

  “It’s a minor wound,” Saldo said. “No worse than a small burn.”

  “Take care of it as soon as you return.”

  Saldo heard concern for him in Hellstrom’s voice, was warmed by it.

  “I heard Old Harvey choose you as his second-in-command,” Hellstrom said.

  “I was his choice.” Saldo spoke with calm confidence.

  “Have any of the others displayed evidence of resenting this?”

  “Nothing serious.”

  Hellstrom liked that answer. It said Saldo was aware of incipient challenges but felt able to deal with them. He no doubt could deal with them, too. Saldo carried himself well. He possessed a sure sense of rightness. There was about him that unspoken air of dominance. It must be tempered, though.

  “Did you enjoy it when you were chosen by Old Harvey?” Hellstrom asked, keeping his voice flat.

  Saldo swallowed. Had he done something wrong? There’d been a prying coldness about that question. Had he put the Hive in peril? But Hellstrom was smiling faintly, a thin movement of his mouth beneath the nightmask.

  “I enjoyed it,” Saldo admitted, but there was uncertainty in his tone.

  Hellstrom heard that self-questioning quality in the younger man’s voice, and he nodded. Uncertainty bred caution. One could go from liking authority into a gambler’s stance: overconfident. Hellstrom explained this now in a quiet voice that carried only between them. When he’d finished, Hellstrom said, “Tell me everything you have ordered here.”

  Saldo thought for a moment, then took up his account where he had left off. He spoke with noticeable hesitation, questing in his own mind for possible errors, for needed corrections.

  Hellstrom interrupted to ask, “Who was first to see the Outsider female?”

  “Harvey,” Saldo said, recalling the motion of the old man’s hand, the upthrust pointing finger to denote his discovery. A trickle of perspiration ran down Saldo’s cheek. He wiped at it irritatedly and the action burned his wound.

  “What orders did he give then?” Hellstrom asked.

  “He had told us earlier that we were to circle her when we found her. We carried that out without orders.”

  “What did Harvey do then?”

  “He had no chance to do anything. The female turned on her light and immediately began shooting.”

  Hellstrom looked down at the ground between them, glanced around. Several nearby workers had left their tasks out of curiosity and had moved closer to listen. “Why aren’t you workers doing as your leader ordered?” Hellstrom demanded. “Your leader gave you specific instructions. Carry them out.” He turned back to Saldo.

  “They are tired,” Saldo said, defending his workers. “I will make a personal inspection of their work before leaving.”

  This one is a jewel, Hellstrom thought. He defends his people, but not too much. And he takes personal responsibility without hesitation.

  “Exactly where w
ere you when she began shooting?” Hellstrom asked.

  “I was at the other end of the sweep from Harvey. When we closed the loop, I found myself beside him.”

  “Who knocked her out of the tree?”

  “The workers across from us where her light did not reach. The rest of us were dodging.”

  “And Harvey gave no more commands?”

  “I believe he was the first one hit. I heard her first shot and –” he hesitated, shrugged, “for just an instant, I froze. Then I was hit and we were all rushing about. I saw Harvey go down and I started toward him. There were more shots and suddenly it was all over. She fell out of the tree.”

  “Your confusion is understandable because you were wounded,” Hellstrom said. “I notice, however, that you kept your sense of balance sufficiently to prevent the killing of the captive. You have lived up to my expectations. But always remember what happened here. You have had a good lesson. The hunting of an Outsider is never the same as the hunting of any other animal. Do you understand that now?”

  Saldo knew he had been both praised and censured. His attention went to the tree in which the female had concealed herself, then, reluctantly, back to Hellstrom. Presently, Saldo saw the slight lift of Hellstrom’s mouth that denoted pleasure. Sure enough, Hellstrom said, “You caught the female alive and that’s the important thing.” He pursed his lips. “She carried a weapon and Harvey should have anticipated that. He should’ve brought her down the instant he saw her. He was within range. Do you know bow to use such Outsider weapons, Saldo?”