The Tower and the Hive

by MCCAFFREY, ANNE

  She isn’t?

  “We’ll need to find scraps, fragments, something metallic, Major, for carbon dating of this facility,” Rojer said.

  “Sabin, can you find any metallic refuse in the workers’ garage?” Major Keiser-Tau said over the com, but he spoke softly, as if he too was impressed by being in the presence of the queen.

  “Yes sir. Some sort of tool. Some broken bits just scattered about.”

  “That may suffice. Now let’s get out of here before they begin to smell us,” the security officer said.

  If he had cautiously led the specialists to the chamber, he now rapidly led them all out again and into the wide-open spaces. There were many sighs of relief heard over the connected coms.

  How many of these do we have to go into, Rojer? Asia asked.

  Oh, we have to do a fair number to make a valid report, honey... He felt the least bit of a reluctance she was trying to hide from him. But you don’t have to go to another, if you don’t want to.

  Asia stood up as tall as she could, which was not quite to Rojer’s shoulder. Where you go, I go. But it is spooky down there.

  At least, in these hazmat suits, we don’t have to endure sting-pzzt.

  No. Asia brought her hands up to her suit, startled by his observation. We don’t. Trust you to remember that.

  I kept waiting for it, Rojer said, only just realizing that that was what he had been anticipating.

  Fooled me too, Roddie admitted with a sheepish grin he allowed only the two Talents to see.

  They felt the sting-pzzt, though, the moment they opened their helmets back in the shuttle. Sabin had draped a lumpy sack over his feet from which emanated the unique Hiver pheromones. The return ‘portation took seconds, and the moment the deck officer opened the shuttle door, the three Talents ’ported themselves to the lounge.

  “What on earth ...” Flavia began when she saw all three lifting an arm and smelling it.

  “Well, it didn’t stick to us,” Rojer said with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

  “What didn’t stick?”

  Rojer explained on his way to his bedroom, Asia on his heels, both peeling down the hazmat suits as they walked.

  “The sting-pzzt, for one thing,” Rojer said.

  “Sweat and dust for another,” Asia said, and waggled her fingers at Flavia before she palmed the door shut.

  For comparisons—of which there weren’t many, Rojer, Asia and Rhodri all agreed—they sampled twenty Hives on the major landmasses.

  “There’s still room for more Hives.” Yakamasura agreed with Mialla Evshenk.

  “But it would be better if there were fewer, rather than more, queens,” she said, giving a satisfied punch to the key that finished her personal evaluation of their efforts. “So where do we go from here?”

  “Doubtless, we’ll be asked to accept a message tube with that information,” Roddie said, yawning hugely and settling his frame more comfortably on the couch.

  A rap on the door from the bridge startled everyone just as an eerie chuckle touched the minds of the Talented.

  “Come in, Captain,” Flavia called, having checked who was knocking. “New orders seem to be on their way.”

  You guessed it, Flavia, said Earth Prime. Message tube coming in, and if the captain has her resupply list...

  She actually has it in hand, sir.

  Warn her. The flimsies in Captain Soligen’s hand suddenly disappeared.

  “How did that happen?” She looked around the room, glaring at Roddie.

  “Earth Prime effected immediate acceptance of your supply list, Vestapia,” Flavia said, managing to keep a straight face. “I didn’t have time to warn you. And here...” She held out her hands, cocking one eyebrow briefly, as she ’ported a pillow into them. A message tube landed square on the pillow. “... are our orders, ma’am,” she added with a flourish of her hand.

  Vestapia looked down at her right hand, fingers still in a gripping position, then at the message tube, and slowly walked over to it.

  “I suppose just about the time I get used to the vagaries of Talent, I’ll lose you.” She poked at the tube and jumped back when Rojer, using kinesis, opened it and the tightly packed data disks spilled onto the carpet.

  “Not anytime soon, I hope,” Rojer said, meaning it.

  Vestapia picked up the packet with the Admiralty seal on it and broke it open, scanning the contents. “Famous last words,” she said, clicking her tongue, and looked at Rojer. “Earth Prime needs you, and Asia, to help with Operation Switch.”

  “Operation Switch?” Rojer asked, confused.

  Roddie, craning his head around to the data disks on the floor, read the titles and flipped one into Rojer’s hand. “Operation Switch! All the data you need for background on the new and spectacular Xh-33 real estate program.” He clasped his hands behind his head and stretched out again. “Better you than me.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Vestapia said ambiguously, and returned to the bridge.

  Zara, any progress to report? Elizara said, tapping lightly into the hospital generators for her contact with her name-sake on Iota Aurigae.

  Yes, I was about to contact you.

  Have you heard about Operation Switch?

  Mother and Father pass the very latest bulletins on to me. Is that progressing? Now that the Main Continent on Xh-33 has been cleansed, I believe they are going forward with the plan. So what is your good news for me?

  If you have good news for me to pass on to the High Councillor Gktmglnt, it would be very grateful.

  Zara’s tone brightened immediately. I do. She chuckled. Using the principle that the last place you look is the right one, I started at Ward Nineteen. She chuckled again. There was considerable wagering...

  Don’t be difficult, Zara ...

  It was Ward Eighteen, the second one. The chemical we need to delete to curb “creation” is a valeric acid analog... and we must also reduce the quantity of phenol. We have now ascertained that a ’Dini bud starts to form, actually, before a ’Dini enters hibernation. It needs the hibernatory pheromones to be completed successfully. In essence, if the bud is nipped early enough to abort it before it has formed between the two ’Dini, reproduction will not take place. The keepers will remove the unformed buds so that the still hibernating ’Dini pair will never know. There are all kinds of reasons that can be given. At least this way, population can be regulated without any interference in cleansing the ’Dini of dead cells and the restoration of their own bodies.

  That is very good news. May I report this to Councillor Gktmglnt?

  That’s also why I was going to call you. Zara’s tone turned grim. The very honorable Gktmglnt is going to have to convince the older keepers that they must depart from tradition, by eliminating the valeric acid analog and reducing the phenol content, to regulate reproduction. The younger ones, and I am blessed by having only one old fart flapping about in dismay over interrupting “creation,” see the sense of the process. They’re quite willing to go along with it, although lota Aurigae must be the only world where we could use all the ’Dinis that can be created—at least while mining is in an intensive stage to supply more Washington class ships. Pass the word along to Grandfather and Gollee Gren. They’ll see that those who need to know will be informed. I’m tubing the formal stuff directly to you, Elizara.

  You’ve done very well indeed, Zara. Very well.

  Thanks! Elizara was aware of Zara’s pride in having achieved such a notable success.

  My ’Dinis are real pleased too. They helped me every step of the way, arguing with the old fart—its name is Frtlmp, so that word fits it perfectly. Elizara had no trouble imaging a malicious expression on Zara’s face as she said that, and the medical Prime laughed out loud. It wouldn’t know what I meant even if I spoke its nickname out loud.

  Pal and Dis would, Elizara said, still chuckling.

  Oh, they think it’s apt enough, but of course, they are exceedingly formal in their encounters with Frtlmp.
T‘any rate, it’s up to the High Councillor and the various ’Dini leaders to settle how much they need to decrease creation and enforce the orders at all hibernatories. Even on the shipboard ones.

  Especially on those, Elizara said. Furthermore, it would be easier to explain the noncreation in the Fleets.

  Yes, it would. Here comes your package.

  Thanks, dear, Elizara said as she heard the message tube rattle into the basket behind her. Again, you’ve done very well.

  Thank you. And if Elizara thought that Zara had responded in an unusually modest tone, she was right. Her experience in the hibernatory, especially curing the victims of the Clarf disaster, had matured her as a healer and as a person. We will have to do more field tests, as it were, to be sure it works on all ’Dini color groups.

  thirteen

  The acuity of Pierre Laney’s nose had never been put to such unusual usage. His infallible organ caught the subtle nuances of each queen’s pheromone output, the minor variations of the quarters, so that when the details were replicated in the hundred different sites that had been made available on the Main Continent, the queens were undisturbed. That is, until workers were sent out to cultivate the fields that had been left behind and found only raw turned earth instead of ready-to-harvest crops.

  “We will add just a soupçon,” Pierre told Captain Osullivan, pinching thumb and forefinger together, “of the essence so unique to the world Prime Thian explored. This ingredient may, in the long term, be what is needed to neutralize the aggressive ones and turn our... belligerent queens into tame pussy cats, like yours.” He warily eyed the captain’s tricolor barque cat, Tabitha, asleep on her pillow in the comer of Osullivan’s ready room.

  Osullivan snorted. “You have only seen her asleep, Pierre,” he said.

  “Which is what we want our queens to be, asleep. If my soupçon is successful, use it as a spray, dropping as a gentle rain upon the place below.” He smiled beatifically at Osullivan, who tried to remember the source of what was obviously a quote.

  “Indeed,” he said ambiguously and gestured for Pierre to go on.

  “And it can be applied anytime to the surface. And renewed as necessary. We will infect all Hiver-occupied worlds with the serenity of the most ancient Hive in this part of the galaxy!” His vibrant voice roused Tab, who looked sleepily at him for a moment, and then resumed her nap. His upraised hands indicated his exultation in discovering an answer to the vital question of how to keep the queens where they were.

  “Excellent news, Pierre,” Osullivan said, realizing that praise for such a resolution—if it worked—was in order. “Excellent!” He rose from his desk and came around, clapping Pierre on the back and accepting the Gallic embrace with his usual aplomb. “Let’s tell the good news to our team and have them forward it to Earth Prime and the High Council. I must tell you”—he laid a hand on Pierre’s back to guide him to the Talents’ lounge—“that I was dubious about so simple an answer to such an immense problem. But you’ve done it!”

  “I live in hope,” Pierre said with a very Gallic shrug, a complete change from his previous exuberance.

  To effect Operation Switch, Perry asked for more Primes and as many strong T-2 kinetics as could be spared for the several days the transfers would take. After all, it was not just the queens but all their workers, attendants and eggs that had to be moved. Damia allowed Afra as well as Kaltia and Morag to be nominated for the teams.

  It’ll be good experience and this won’t take too long, will it? Damia asked her father. We’re between loads and our apprentices can handle anything else that might come in with me as merge.

  I’m sending Gollee too, by the way. He needs a break.

  This will be a break? Damia asked with some asperity.

  Her father chuckled. I’d borrow Zara too, but Elizara has told me that her... work... is in its concluding phase. So she said she’d come. She can lend heft to a merge. She’s deeply interested in the project. She’s volunteered her youngest, a strong kinetic T-2, for an unparalleled opportunity to meet so many of his peers.

  How old is Pietro?

  Old enough... There was a brief pause. Same age as Barry, your grandmother just tartly informed me. I’m borrowing Rojer and Asia from Second Fleet.

  Oh, that’ll be so nice for the children. We do miss them. And don’t you dare say, “Only a thought away,” she added in a fierce tone.

  Wouldn’t dare, her father replied.

  I almost wish I could join them. But I can’t and that’s that! Damia said. I do hope it’s worth the effort.

  We can wait and see. The Xh-33 at least allows us to try the theory that the alteration of the local pheromones will have the desired effect.

  Are the militants giving you more trouble?

  Oh, them! If we can prove we’ve got the queens planet-bound, and we release enough of the newly discovered M-type worlds, they’ll find something else to complain about.

  Damia could almost see her father shrugging his shoulders. She wanted to remind him that he was not, as he sometimes assumed, invulnerable.

  I’m not, you know, he replied. But nearly. And I never make claims of being infallible.

  Not with Mother to keep you on your toes.

  A chuckle trailed off into silence.

  The Xh-33 planet was not at the other end of the galaxy, but with the help of the occupants and their Towers, the various personnel carriers landed in orderly fashion in the boat bays of the various ships of the Fourth Fleet that were to host them. Perry and Adela on the Asimov would host Elizara and her youngest son, Pietro. Gollee Gren and Barry Raven came in to the Beijing to be greeted officially by a cheerful Captain Smelkoff. Afra, Morag and Kaltia went to the Nova Scotia and an enthusiastic welcome by Captain Ellen Hogarth, while Rojer, with his ’Dinis and Asia, graced the decks of the M.S. HGHL to the delight of Captain Ghl. Xahra was to be a guest of the Galaxy-class Strongbow and was instantly impressed by Captain Halsted, who had given up his quarters as being the only ones suitable for a Prime on his smaller ship.

  As soon as everyone had arrived and had a chance to look through the schedule, the Primes and the T-2’s assembled for a briefing session on the Asimov in the Talents’ lounge.

  Not as big as the Washington’s, Rojer remarked to Asia.

  Bigger than the Columbia’s, though, Asia said, and Rojer gave her a quick look at her suddenly meek tone.

  Don’t you dare go all modest and nervous on me.

  Oh, I won’t. She grinned up at him and reached for his hand, squeezing it. But it is bigger.... Oh, is that gorgeous woman Xahra?

  Perry’s sister. She’s pouting. No, she’s not. She’s smirking.

  She looks haughty to me.

  Oh, she is that too, Rojer agreed. And Xahra was certainly stunning in an exotic way. Odd that she was stolid Perry’s sister. He much preferred Elizara’s tranquil beauty.

  Why, thank you, Rojer, Elizara said, nudging the lad beside her. “Come, Pietro, I want to introduce you to Rojer and Asia Lyon.”

  Pietro might be the same age as Barry Raven, but he had a great deal more poise than the Denebian.

  The result of so much exposure to Talents at Blundell, Elizara replied, smiling graciously, and he’s shortly to get a Tower assignment. Ah, her mental tone sighed. They grow up so fast these days.

  Morag and Kaltia arrived, squealed with delight to see their brother with Asia and rushed over to the couple.

  Not all of them do, Rojer replied like any unimpressed older sibling, hugging first Morag and then Kaltia because he was glad to see them and they really couldn’t be classed as kids anymore. Working on Clarf with Laria had subtly altered them, despite their reversion to juvenile exuberance.

  His father had a slight smile on his face as he looked over the Talents already present. Adela, assisted by Navy stewards, was serving hot canapès and looking slightly nervous.

  “Never thought I’d be able to sneak up on you, Afra.” Afra turned to grip Gollee Gren’s extended hand, savo
ring once more the essence of the man who had been so much a part of his professional life.

  Looking your age finally, are you? Afra said, noting the grizzle of silver in the T-2’s dark hair and the crinkle of lines about the light green eyes.

  Actually, it’s constant proximity to Gwyn-Raven offspring and the rigors of dealing with all those eager young Talents.

  So this is work as well as play? Afra asked.

  Gollee rolled his eyes. A bit of both and indeed a testing time for Barry, Pietro and... He paused to grimace slightly.... Morag and Kaltia.

  Morag’s old enough, Afra said with a slight nod of his head. Did well at Clarf during the emergency.

  They both did. You’ve a grand family to be proud of. Ah, and Rojer is still protecting Asia, I see.

  Afra chuckled. She’s well able for him to think so.

  The exchange had taken brief seconds, for now they heard ’Dini voices behind them as Afra’s Trpl and Rojer’s Gil and Kat came down the passageway. Trpl was taller by a full head—human head—than Rojer’s two and was obviously regaling its juniors on the part it had played in nursing the four victims of the Clarf disaster. More muted human voices echoed respectfully as the naval Talents who would form part of the whole merge arrived.

  A goodly crew, Gollee said, nodding as he was recognized by the Fleet Talents, and he accepted their salutes with a wave of his hand. One of the women looked apprehensive. “They won’t bite, Mimi, I’m here to protect you.”

  “Then we’ve nothing to fear,” an ensign said, grinning.

  “Asaf Katzin, isn’t it?” Gollee replied. A good kinetic T-3.

  “Do you know who we all are?” Asaf asked, stopping in surprise.

  “He’d better or Prime Raven will replace him with one of you,” Afra said, so solemn-faced that Ensign Katzin goggled slightly until Gollee’s grin reassured him.

  “But you wouldn’t have had the chance to meet Afra Lyon of Iota Aurigae,” Gollee said.