“I think you can tell who’s a Prime in there without naming names.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Mimi advised her crewmate, winking coquettishly at Gren, who winked right back.
“If we’re all here,” Perry said when they had entered the room, “I’d like to get on with the briefing. We’re doing this in four teams, with a Prime as merge, assisted by the naval Talents. Since we can all be in contact, we can each use the generators of our host ships. Xahra, I’m putting Gollee and Pietro with you on the Strongbow. Rojer will have Barry and Asia to back him up on the HGHL. Afra will be merge with his daughters. I’ve spread out the stronger Talents from the Asimov.” He nodded deferentially toward Captain Osullivan. “Elizara and I will lead the Asimov team. We might need to do some switching around after our first day, but that’s to be expected when none of us have ever done anything even remotely like what we are about to do.”
Even Xahra nodded agreement with that, slightly amused by her brother’s instructions.
“I have data files for all the queens we are transferring and visuals for the Main Continent quarters they’re to inhabit. Fortunately for us, the Hivers’ unvarying patterns are of inordinate help to us.” He tapped his chest, grinning. “According to our expert, Pierre Laney”—he gestured to the Nose, who was listening avidly to the briefing—“the quarters of any individual queen might smell slightly different...”
“Indubitably, they do,” Pierre said, tapping his nose with a sage expression on his face.
“Yes, but the layout for every installation is exactly the same. We have visuals on each separate facility, but they’re all much of a muchness. Our communications people have been able to transfer the wall screens. At least they hope so.” Perry grimaced slightly. “But they haven’t found out how or where to turn them on or off.”
“They have very small creatures to do that,” Rojer said, “as we discovered when we started up the sphere at Phobos Moon Base.”
“How small?” Perry said, blinking at Rojer in surprise.
Rojer indicated the first two joints of his index finger. “Their tunnels ran everywhere on the sphere. Doubt their holes would be visible.”
“They are but seemed to go nowhere,” Perry said, looking down at his notepad and checking something off. “We’ll see what happens.” Then he looked around at his audience. “We’re hoping that we’ve done our... renovations ... so well that the queens won’t notice. They will, however, notice the fields. We can’t transfer the crops. We’re good but not that good.” His chuckle was answered by smiles. Xahra rolled her eyes at her brother’s attempt at humor. “So, if there are any questions about procedures, I—and the staff officers—are at your disposal.”
“Body weights?” Afra asked.
“Good point, sir,” Perry said, pointing his stylus at the Capellan. “We’ve estimated you will be lifting the equivalent of a large drone with the queens, likewise each stable of her workers.” He gave a shrug.
“But it’s animate cargo,” Afra said.
“That’s why we have designated teams. Watch your remotes and catch as many of the queen’s attendants as possible in the first ’port and pick up the remainder on a second trip if necessary,” Perry replied. “You can take the workers by rows...”
“They make it handy enough,” Rojer said, wondering if the creatures would even know they’d been lifted.
“Wouldn’t the eggs be fragile?” Xahra asked.
“The ones in with the Heinlein queen have a thick outer coating,” Rojer said. “Reasonable caution is all you’d need.”
“They are in a storage tube, at the back of the queen’s quarters,” Perry said, and brought up the visual. “Once you know the shape, ’port that. They won’t crack.” His manner suggested that the Primes were more than capable of handling the transfer.
“You said there were little creatures, Rojer?” Gollee asked. “What happens if some get left behind and come looking for Momma?”
“You will, of course, check on each of the facilities to be sure that none are left behind,” Perry said, a bit on his dignity.
“The queen’ll make more if we lose a few,” Rojer said.
“The wounded queens have been steadily replacing the attendants that were killed in the war,” Perry said. “According to Thian’s report, when he removed specimens for study, the queen would count...” He broke off and shot a glance at Pierre Laney, who winked back when Perry did not finish the sentence.
“Noses, is what they count,” Pierre said blithely, arms folded over his chest where he sat beside Captain Osullivan.
“Noses it is then,” Perry said with a slight grin. “They didn’t appear to be concerned in any way that they were missing attendants, and promptly replaced them.”
“It’s the field and the crops that’s going to throw them, isn’t it?” Elizara said.
“Yes, but there’s nothing we can do about that. And some of the fields they’ll now possess will be in bad condition,” Perry went on. “We’re hoping that the queens will just”—he gave a shrug—“replant or harvest or whatever. Again, their adherence to tradition includes their plantings. The same crops appear time and again. Of course, not in the same order, because some of the vegetables require different soil and/or more watering. But that should be a challenge to each queen—to put her individual domain back in order as soon as possible.”
“Well, let’s hope they take up the challenge in the spirit in which it is presented, and more space to expand,” said Captain Osullivan. “Any more questions?” He looked around the room.
When there were none, Captain Osullivan rose. “Then let us proceed to the main hangar. The Washington is a grand big ship, but we wish all of our Talents to be seated in the same chamber for tonight’s feast. Or would it be easier to ’port yourselves down?”
“Those of us who can should do so,” Perry said, “leaving the lifts for those who can’t.”
He took Adela’s hand in his and disappeared. Immediately half the assembly followed suit.
“I could take you, Captain Osullivan, if you don’t mind that kind of transport.” Elizara said, “and Pietro can convey . you, Mr. Laney.”
“Pierre, please, Elizara.” Then the Nose turned to Pietro and spread both hands. “When you’re rea—”
“Neatly done,” Osullivan said with a grin.
“Show-off,” she said, but the next instant she was facing Osullivan on the deck of the main hangar where a long U-shaped formation had been set out, with white napery that glistened in the overhead lights, set for the many diners. At one side, in a straight line, the captains and executive officers of the other ships awaited the arrival of the Talented guests. The main hangar had been cleansed of its usual grease and oil and was redolent with aromas activating everyone’s salivary glands.
“Ah, superb!” Pierre said, lifting his hand, forefinger and thumb meeting, and then he inhaled deeply. “Magnificent! May I escort you to your seat, Elizara?”
And it was a magnificent meal. Several times the captain thanked the Primes for bringing in the raw materials—fresh meats, fish, vegetables, cheeses, fruits and sweets which the Washington’s galley had transformed into such an elegant repast.
Once the meal was completed and everyone sated with good food and wine, Perry stood and suggested that a good night’s rest would be essential for the morning’s endeavor.
The guests were escorted to personnel carriers in the smaller boat bays and returned to the ships that accommodated them.
The next morning after a solid breakfast to sustain them in their labors, the Talents gathered in the cabins designated for their use: comformable couches, screens, an expediter and engineer as well as assistants to keep track of the progress on screen and in notations. To one side of the large screens were a big schematic of a queen’s facility and the map showing which queen was to be transferred to which place on the Main Continent. The targets of each of the four teams were a different color.
“Very orga
nized,” was Xahra’s comment when Captain Halsted led her into the mess room of the Strongbow, which had been converted for this usage.
“Very well done,” Gollee Gren agreed as he and Pietro followed her. “As good as I have back in Blundell,” he added amiably, and caught startled thoughts from both T-1’s.
Xahra smiled as she checked on the other amenities. There was a courteous tap on the door before the five minor Talents on board the Strongbow reported themselves ready for duty and stood at attention by the padded chairs arranged behind the three major Talents.
“Shall I stand by?” Halsted asked politely.
“It won’t bother us,” Xahra said, and took her seat, gesturing for all to be seated. “Do you have the order of... transfer, expediter?”
“Yes ma’am,” was the prompt reply.
“Engineer, prepare to effect the gestalt. Gollee, let’s start Operation Switch... to number fifty-four green.”
The expediter highlighted number fifty-four on the map, and its destination on the Main Continent, and the two quarters came up on screen: the one with its occupants grooming their queen, the other empty and ready to receive its new tenants. The generator hum increased.
“Gollee, merge. Pietro, Sam, Jennifer, Elias, Amos, Kathleen...” Xahra paused just the moment to gather the merged minds to her, then: “NOW!”
A sudden deep noise in the generators and then the queen with every creature, was transported from their original premises into their new domain.
“Let’s wait for it,” Xahra said, eyes going from one screen to the next. “Ooops. One just entered, stage right,” she said, and flicked it to its new quarters.
A squeak was plainly heard.
For a long moment, the queen sat still, then slowly, majestically, she rose to her hind limbs, staring straight ahead of her.
“Aha,” Gollee said, “she’s noticed the screen isn’t hers!”
From under her and around, movement could be seen, but even with the remotes set up to receive images in the usual darkness of a Hive, the watchers could not tell where and what was sent. Then, all of a sudden, a perceivable green glow bathed the queen. She sat back down.
“Suspects merely a power outage,” Gollee said, chuckling.
The queen had just settled back when she rose and scrambled with unexpected speed down her tunnel... beyond the remote’s range.
“Can we get an outside fix on transfer fifty-four?” Xahra asked.
“I’m working on screen transfer, ma’am,” said the expediter. “On screen three.”
That showed the outside of the collection point. The queen, scuttling with breakneck speed and followed by her male attendants, raced to the top of her facility and stood, slowly turning to survey the fields. She moved her lower limbs.
“The queen of all she surveys,” Gollee remarked.
“I don’t think she likes what she sees,” Pietro said.
“Not one little tiny bit,” Gollee agreed.
“Let’s get her workers in place, shall we? She’s going to be calling them and they’d better answer or we’ve blown the maneuver,” Xahra said, and the generators built up speed. “Expediter, let’s see the garages there.”
The screens split into several smaller sections. Quickly Xahra leaned into the merge and one stable after another the workers were transferred from one facility to the other. Immediately, the ranks began to move.
“We got that in time.”
Thanks for the warning, Xahra. Perry’s voice came to them. I think we caught number one in her morning nap. Ah, now she’s waking up to the switch. Damn it. Why couldn’t we have transferred their screen designs too?
Number fifty-four is sending her children out in their hordes, Gollee said as the ranks came trundling up out of the building, two by two, each file turning off and up into the fields. If she’s setting them to work, she seems to be settling in her... new quarters all right enough.
The trampled fields were farther from the queens’ quarters, as each had tried to protect her home grounds. The queen remained in position, slowly turning to be sure the workers were reaching the damaged fields before she came down on all legs and descended into the dark interior and back to her Hive. She arrived and could be seen on the remote putting her face close to the screen, before she backed off and resumed the position in which she had first been seen.
“One down and fifty-three more to go,” Gollee said.
“We have the eggs to do first, you know,” Xahra said. “Let’s see if we can get them in the one basket.”
That was the trickiest part, as they all admitted, trying to keep the ovoids from slipping away from their ’port. The first time they tried, half the eggs eluded their grasp. Some fell out onto the deserted floor of the queen’s Hive. These had to be gathered up.
Get the sides, Gollee and Pietro, I’ll get the top and bottom, Xahra said.
Why not, Pietro said, think a sleeve around them so they can’t escape?
That’s not a bad concept, Gollee agreed.
A stocking is better because it has a toe and nothing can slip out the bottom, was Xahra’s amendment.
Better and better.
Then let’s do it. Ready? Xahra asked her crew.
“When you are, ma’am,” said Amos, who was the receiving ’path.
This time the transfer worked smoothly.
“Whee, that’s a ’port and a half,” Gollee said.
“You’re just out of practice,” Xahra said with a teasing contempt in her voice. “Expediter, may we have the coordinates for number fifty-three.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Let’s not be so sloppy this time. On the double, queen and her gang first, the workers second and the eggs third. Then we can watch the queen react, said Xahra.
Now, now, we have to learn the tricks of doing these mass ’ports, Gollee said cheerfully.
Xahra shot him a startled look. What do you mean?.
I mean that if this proves successful in preventing another war on Xh-33, we’re apt to be doing it on other occupied planets where we need to prevent similar massacres.
We are? Pietro looked delighted with the prospect even if Xahra didn’t.
Speak for yourself, Gollee, she said rather tartly.
Oh, I do. And we all obey Earth Prime. A touch of reprimand colored his tone, but he had carefully spoken only to Xahra. He could see the flush on her cheeks. “Let’s handle number fifty-three, shall we?”
And they did, with expedition and efficiency, missing not one egg or tiny scurrier.
Sir, said Prime Thian to Earth Prime from the Washington, in orbit around its second target Hiver-occupied planet. This one has twelve empty facilities. It was one of those that sent its sphere after us... or rather, came out to join the sphere heading toward the system with the right kind of primary.
Really? replied Jeff Raven with suddenly active interest. Just twelve? Been down on the surface yet?
We’ve done initial probes, sir, and can investigate if you wish. There seems to be a lot of arable land left for them to expand onto.
We need to have GC readings on at least twelve Hives to be certain of the basic... shall I say, health and welfare ... of the queens. The more data we have for comparison, the better we can plan the containment of the Hiver queens.
Thian chuckled. As you wish. And, ah, how’s Operation Switch doing?
Jeff Raven chuckled. With the massed might of eight fine Primes, the switcheroo is going very well indeed. Got two more days of shifting to do. They average about ten a day. Bit tricky getting those eggs from one basket to another. Young Pietro thought of a sleeve and Xahra upped that notion to a stocking just about the time Elizara thought of a tube bandage.
Yes, Thian replied, remembering how they had been stored on the Great Sphere, that would be tricky. They don’t make a neat package, like workers do.
However, the ones that fell out don’t seem to have been harmed, nor did their fall concern the queens. They had more on their minds than
wobbling eggs underfoot. Jeff Raven sent Thian a flash of a report of the queens’ marshaling workers to the fields. Your father, your brother and your two sisters have all performed very well, Gollee tells me.
You sent Gollee Gren out there?
Why not? A change is as good as a rest. Broaden his outlook on life. There was a pause. Your grandmother informs me that Gollee Gren’s outlook is quite broad enough. Get me some GC readings and data for comparisons, will you, Thian? We want to try Pierre Laney’s gentle rain from heaven on that planet and see if it is as effective as we hope it will be at Xh-33. Smell may be more powerful than a missile after all. A chuckle. The deterrent of the future—alter the outlook by altering the ambient smells. Wish I could apply that to certain elements on Earth.
Then the touch of Jeff Raven’s mind left Thian’s.
“Anything wrong, Thian honey?” Alison Ann Greevy asked him.
“More tunnel crawling,” he said with a sigh. “To get comparison stinks and all the data we can find.”
She laughed, rumpling his hair. “You know you love it when you stand right in front of a queen and she doesn’t so much as give two hoots ’n’ a holler.”
“I do like that part.” Thian smoothed back his hair. “It’s that damned hazmat suit... and decontam and deodorizing afterwards.”
“Yeah, but that suit keeps the sting-pzzt out, doesn’t it?” Gravy said.
“It does.” He rose from the couch and took the four long strides to the door into the bridge. “I better tell the Admiral. Oh, and honey, Operation Switch is going along well.”
“Wonders will never cease!”
“I hope not.”
Thian did, however, shorten the time of the onerous assignment by organizing twelve teams, all eager for a chance to do a live inspection of a Hive facility. There were enough T- 2’s and T-3’s in the First Fleet to accompany each team in case of trouble. Not that one expected any from the aloof queens, but he wasn’t about to have anyone under his guidance become a victim. He wondered what could provoke a Hiver queen to action—aside from checking her fields. Surely there must have been some recognition among the queens on Xh-33 that they had been removed from their original quarters?
The Tower and the Hive Page 31
