Unknown

"Hey, you two look a lot better," Lionasha said. "Like you got enough sleep or had a vacation."

"We had both, actually," Laria said. "Mother and Dad wouldn't let us near the Tower . . ."

"Not with Beliakin there, I'll bet," Lionasha said in an acid tone.

Laria grinned. "We never saw him once. He had to report to Blun-dell about that wretched Clarissia. He cleared himself of any suspicion." She paused, with a little smile on her face. "I wouldn't be surprised at all if Mom and Dad didn't sort of. . . well . . . adjust his general attitude."

"That couldn't hurt," Lionasha said, glancing over at Kincaid, who grinned back.

"Somehow I don't think he'll stay long, now he's had such good experience at Iota." Laria smothered a grin. "But you know how valuable strong T-2's are right now. Grandfather's sure to put him in some crucial position. Not that their replacement will be anywhere near the kinetic Beliakin seems to be. Mother said Gollee's description of him is 'very young and so eager to learn he's almost pathetic.' Kobold von

He I

something or other. Well, if Mom can trim down Beliakin's amazing ego, maybe she can build this little fellow's up."

"Kobold von Gruy? So he developed, did he? He comes from my city," Kincaid said with an odd smile, "so he'd have to overcome the odd ideas about Talent prevalent where we come from."

Laria gave Kincaid a quick look and laid her hand briefly on his arm. Lionasha had trouble repressing the questions those brief, and intimate, gestures provoked. She turned away to go get breakfast started.

"He'll do fine with Mother and Dad to sort of ease him into Tower work," Laria said.

"Didja hunt much?" Kaltia asked, so eagerly that it was obvious she missed that task.

"Indeed we did. In fact, I think that between us Kincaid and I finally hunted out that valley of mine."

"Can't be done," Kaltia argued.

"Kincaid here"—once again Laria touched the T-2's arm—"gets full honors for bagging the most every time we went out, wherever we went. Ewain was disgusted."

"He would be," Kaltia said with a snort. "But when do you get your 'Dinis back?"

I'll tell you what 1 can later, Laria said.

"Zara's still at Iota?" Morag asked, though she already knew the answer.

Laria nodded. "And likely to be for some time. She's done great work and pulled our 'Dinis round." Then her face lost all expression. "Did we lose many we know?"

Returning with a tray of hot drinks, Lionasha nodded sadly. "I knew twenty, and Van knew another half-dozen. Some eighty of Hufs main house died and thirty of Tip's."

"Morag and Kaltia made appropriate visits to the color houses, since their own 'Dinis wished to express condolence."

"We will too, of course," Laria said. "It was all so needless." Abruptly, she took a sip of the hot drink and then stepped over to Lionasha's work-

station. "Have we much for the morning? You two"—she pointed at her sisters—"have the day off."

"That's fine by us," Morag said, "because there were some real neat fashions shipped in from Earth that should be on display and I need something new to wear. We didn't bring half enough good things with us. You coming too, Kaltia?"

Laria looked queringly at Lionasha and was reassured by Lio's dismissive wave.

"That pair know Clarf from hither to thither, Laria. Don't worry about them," Lionasha said, "Now, I don't want you to lose all the good the holiday did you, so if the girls'll stay long enough to help 'port in the heavy machinery, it'd ease you back into the routine."

"Shops don't open until late morning," Morag said.

"Sure, don't want to lose my touch," was Kaltia's reaction.

"That's most unlikely," Laria said, 'pathing her pride in her sisters.

Lyon's Pride, Kincaid added, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

An excited Sam Weiman and Grm begged a moment of Thian's time as the Washington and the fleet she led made their way toward the next suspect system.

"I know this may sound ab solutely ridiculous," Sam began, with Grm bouncing up and down on its flippers beside him. "But I've been thinking about phero-mones, our odors"— he tapped his chest— "and theirs." He pointed astern, meaning Arcadia or system Cj-70, which was now a good week behind them. "I think smell has a lot more to do with Hivers than we may have adequately investigated. When we had Operation Shanghai under way, I automatically took samples of the air as we went from place to place — sort of a headspace analysis, the sort we'd do with alien

insects — in each collection point. I believe that the Hivers have been classified as basically insectoids. I also had Commander Kloo add gas chromatography to the remotes to keep track of any pheromone alterations. At any rate, Grm here and I have discovered that these pheromones are distinct, identifiable chemical compounds, especially when the queen made replacements for the attendants we took from her quarters,"

"Really?" Thian raised his eyebrows in surprise. "More than interesting," he went on, "since Earth Prime forwarded me in his latest report of the general situation at Blundell news that my sister Zara is working on the Mrdini hibernatory problem." He turned to Grm and spoke in Mrdini with a quick but respectful bow. YOU MAY NOT HAVE

HEARD THAT THE MRDINI FRIENDS OF CLARF'S PRIME AND T-2 DANO WERE PART OF THE TRAGEDY AT CLARF'S MAIN HIBERNATORY. MRDINI HAD GRACIOUSLY REQUESTED ZARA AS PRIME MEDICAL HUMAN TO HELP REVIVE AND HEAL THE VICTIMS.

Grm, however, bowed, its poll eye covered slightly by its lids in deference to the sad incident. DID HEAR. AS XENBEE, THIS ONE KNOWS THAT SPECIAL PHEROMONES ARE USED IN HIBERNATORIES. BUT NOT WHICH ONES. Grm nodded but indicated for Thian to continue. DEEPEST, MOST SACRED INFORMATION KNOWN ONLY TO KEEPERS WHO ARE TRAINED TO MANAGE HIBERNATORIES. It gave a little shudder.

"I wonder what sort of smells we exuded on our first visit to that queen's quarters. She sure aired the place out in a hurry."

"The point is," Sam went on, giving Grm another apologetic bow, "that if we knew what pheromones the queen produces under which circumstances, we might find a way of ... of sort of replacing certain pheromones and thus producing a more pacific attitude. Reducing their size and aggressiveness: making them more like the Arcadians. Has anyone done a 'headspace analysis' of the Heinlein queen?"

"I can certainly find out," Thian said at his most cooperative. "Wouldn't it be ironic if pheromones were the key to the Hiver problem as well as the Mrdinis'? We've been too busy, he thought to himself, having to eliminate the Hivers to discover how to contain them. But that differ-

ence in size between Arcadia's workers and those at Xh-33 and by the Heinlein queens must be significant.

Once Vagrian Beliakin got back from rather intensive sessions with Gollee Gren and with the team investigating the abortive assassination attempt over his one interview with that dreadful Capellan female, he settled back into Iota Aurigae's routine with great relief. He learned that he had missed a visit home by Laria and Kincaid Dano. He couldn't figure out if the call to Blundell had been to keep him out of their way, but he was just as glad that he had been absent. He had even had a final quarter hour with Earth Prime himself and felt he'd made a good impression on Jeff Raven, though the man had kept to two topics: the horses currently at Iota and the hunting that Vagrian had done with his youngest grandchildren. Although Beliakin felt that Raven's geniality had to mask some other devious purpose, he sensed no mental intrusion during their spoken conversation.

Back at Iota, and genuinely glad to be there, he saw little enough of Zara—she rarely even slept at the Tower House right now, trying to save the victims of the Clarf hibernatory's breakdown. He hunted with Petra and Ewain, careful to keep up an easy relationship with them and their parents. He had no trouble finding female companionship of the type he preferred in Iota Aurigae City.

Two days later, they had just finished shifting another six big daddies, when Earth Prime asked for a few words with Vagrian.

Damia grinned and gestured for Vagrian to answer while she and Afra left the Tower . . . just as if, Vagrian thought very carefully, they couldn't have "heard" whatever Jeff Raven said if they wished. He doubted they would stoop to listening, since both were scrupulous in Talent protocol and traditions and Afra was a methody Capellan.

How would you feel about managing a new Tower, Beliakin?

Beg pardon? Vagrian gripped the armrests of his couch in surprise.

The Fourth Fleet's released a new planet and your kinetic strength is certainly needed to 'port the supplies the place will need. I believe they've called

the planet Iwojima. I don't know what it is that has the Star League so keen on naming planets after Human battle victories, but the Mrdinis don't complain. It'll end up Wjmfor them, I'm sure.

I hardly ^now what to say, sir, Beliakin replied, swallowing figuratively and literally, but I'll certainly do my best to prove my abilities.

Which u exactly why you ve been chosen. You'll have a good support in a T-3'path, a T-3 expediter, a T-4 engineer and, during the initial surge to supply, a third T-3 kinetic, as support. We II push a lot of the heavy stuff through Perry, the Fourth Fleet's Prime, so initially you'll do more catching than throwing. We're trying to find a good T-2 'pather to augment you, similar to the arrangement that's worked so well with your brother and Nesrun at Sef Tower. But it'll take time toftne-tune a Tower crew, so don't be reticent in telling me if there's a mismatch.

Vagrian was still so stunned at his unexpected good fortune that he said the first thing that came to mind.

But. . . but.. . what about Iota, and who'll assist on those big daddies?

Your anxiety does you credit, Vagrian. Gollee's got a T-2 in training, Kobold von Gruy, and they will augment him with their T-2 and T-3 students. All but one are old enough for full Tower work- I need you at Iwojima. How soon can you be ready?

Won't take me long at all, sir. And he was out of his couch and descending three steps at a time, the clatter causing Keylarion to stare at him. Then he also realized that Xexo hadn't come up out of his engineering pit and the generators hadn't been turned off.

"I'm going to a new Tower," Vagrian cried as he passed the two. "I've got to pack. I'll have my own Tower." He caught at the doorframe with both hands to stop his reckless forward momentum since Damia and Afra were in the little lounge, grinning at him.

"Take all the time you need to pack, Vagrian," Damia said cheerfully. "And congratulations. We didn't think we'd have you long. Not with your kinetic strength."

"I won't take long," he promised, and stifled the urge to teleport to his room. He did, however, use his kinetic Talent to start gathering up his belongings in the house onto the bed, and was rolling his disks into

shirts and sweaters before he was out of sight of the Lyons. Then he 'ported to his room and speeded up the process of packing. Since he'd seen Damia 'port his things into her house, he had no qualms about 'porting them back to the Tower yard by the personnel carrier that was always racked in one of the side cradles.

Damia and Afra were coming down the Tower steps as he jogged up from the house. He said all that was suitable for a leave-taking, grinned at their repeated congratulations, waved a farewell and thanks to Xexo and Keylarion, who came out of the Tower to see him off.

Afra closed the cover with one last srnile. Of course, Vagrian didn't feel the transfer, not one being done by the Iota Aurigae Tower. He did hear a male voice accept transfer: Got 'im, Damia. Thanks. Greetings, Beliakin. Perry here. Then he heard a great deal of exterior noise as his personnel carrier settled into its destination cradle. We'll meet later, Beliakin. Do get into the Tower as soon as possible. We're quite busy.

The tenor voice sounded slightly breathless, which suggested to Vagrian that this Perry—one of David of Betelgeuse's sons, wasn't he?—was multitasking. A tap preceded the opening of his carrier and he felt a rush of fresh air, warmer than lota's, filled with myriad smells—mostly of building materials, paint, oil, grease and Human sweat.

"Hi, I'm your expediter, T-2 Vagrian Beliakin," said the dark-haired woman looking in at him. "My name's Beejay, T-3 'pather." She stepped back to allow him to exit the carrier, her grin broadening with just the sort of appreciation for his masculinity that Vagrian appreciated.

After the quiet of Iota Aurigae's Tower facility, the hectic activity here—in a hilltop clearing which had obviously been leveled for the Tower—and the noise were an assault on his ears. Glancing round to identify what and where the diverse noises were coming from, he saw Humans and 'Dinis everywhere, putting up sections of buildings, roofing, dashing from one of the many open large drones for supplies, so that the place appeared totally populated instead of the most recent colony world. Beyond the immense clearing, beyond the mounds of dirt that had been pushed out of the way for the Tower, he could see wave

after wave of odd-looking tree types spread out in all directions, and up the foothills of mountains not quite as sharp, or young, as Iota's.

"Takes a bit of getting used to," Beejay said, grinning. "All that greenery. Hiver ruins are all overgrown too." She held out her hand and Vagrian hastily responded by touching her long, blunt fingers: yel-low/citrusy/flowing, were what he got from their touch. She had an attractive, rather than pretty, face and a compact but feminine body. Her grin widened and she cocked one narrow eyebrow in a mutual appreciation of the information conveyed. "'Port your stuff into the L section—the lounge is the first room." She pointed. "Nice one too. We got our quarters built yesterday and nothing's sorted out. Though the Tower is. That's why we're not all here to meet you. Vaclava, our T-3 'expediter, is in direct contact with Perry on theAsimov with a long list of things we need yesterday. Janfinde's fussing with his generators because he's got a shimmy he has to fix before we're actually operational. Hope you can reach the Asimov in just a merge because we're stuck for so much right now . . . C'mon."

Vagrian's T-2 kinetic strength was put to an immediate testing, but the merge techniques he had acquired when Damia and Afra had him work with their Aurigaean latents and their two youngest children couldn't have been better experience. The metal stairs up to the "Tower" lacked carpeting and it was a cupola like Clarf s. Comformable couches were brand-new—someone had guessed his height and width right, though, so he had no fault to find with that, though he hoped the screens were more securely hooked to the still-unfinished walls than they looked. Beejay must have done a lot of merging, because as soon as she had settled on her couch, she opened her mind to him. By the time Perry called a lunch break, Vagrian realized how much he missed the oomph of working with T-1 's, even Ewain's stolid mind.

"C'mon," Beejay said, "the Navy supplies our grub and it's captain's-table quality." He would have eaten anything, but he rather thought he'd miss Damia's inventive menus.

The "lounge" had no furniture, bar the duffels stacked around its circular form and the trestle table in the exact center with rough benches

on either side, facing windows with magnificent views. Steaming-hot food was waiting on the table, and shortly the rest of his Tower staff gathered to eat.

"Told you, didn't I?" Beejay said, grinning when Vagrian lifted the lid from a covered dish and inhaled spicy aromas. Had Damia somehow managed to send along his food preferences: hot and hotter? "Of course, there's space here for a proper kitchen and I really do like to cook. We can have non-T staff if we want, and I suspect you may want to request help. We'll have a lot to do getting started. ... Hi there, Vaclava. Meet Vagrian."

Vaclava shyly offered her hand to Vagrian and he felt violet/lavender scent/liquid. She slipped in opposite him, a quieter, younger personality than Beejay. He'd have to deal carefully with her. He learned later this was her first post after being trained by the Bastianmajanis on Altair. He sensed a charming determination to do everything right the first time. Janfinde, who was brown/nutmeg/cautious, brought the smells of grease and oil with him, though he had changed to fresh clothing before joining them at the table.

"I've a CPO coming down tonight, Tower," Janfinde said, filling his plate, "to help me tune the number two. We should be running on our own power by morning." And that was the last thing he said, concentrating on his food.

Beejay had enough conversation to cover his silence and Vaclava's shyness, and pulled out of Vagrian the details of where he'd been, what he'd done and all about the assassination attempt, which had been, she was sure, played down by Perry and Captain Osullivan, commander of the Fourth Fleet. She admitted coming from Procyon's planet, Truro, wrinkling her nose because her homeworld had as much a reputation for oddball cults and preserves as Capella had for strictly methody ways. Truro also harbored many of the clairvoyant or prescient Talents and some of the more gifted Talent therapists. As a T-3 'pather, she'd decided to enlist when the call came out through Truro's Talents that Blundell was in need of high T's on well-paid short-term contracts that could be extended.

I 3 G Anne HcCifffif

So she'd come to see what a new world looked like. "Not that I expected it to be a Hiver world, but hey, well"—she shrugged, her ready grin wry—"new Tower, good chow, the Navy's been real helpful and those 'Dinis are a hoot and a half. You don't have any?" She made a pretense of looking around her.

"Only the ones I met at Iota Aurigae," Vagrian replied with a slight, self-deprecating grin. "But they're likable and they can work all the hours God gave the day. Which reminds me, how long a day do we have here?"

"Twenty-five hours, fifteen minutes. No one's bothered to figure out a leap year yet, but at this latitude we have about twelve hours of daylight." She pointed upward. "Perry insists we keep to an eight-hour working day." She glanced down at her wrist. "And we're due to work the second half ot it like right now."

Dutifully Vagrian rose, gesturing at the dirty plates and dishes remaining from a completely consumed lunch.

"You're the kinetic." Beejay gave him a vivid mental glimpse of the galley on the Asimov. "The head cook gives us hell if we break anything. Captain's service, you see, not plastic."

Vagrian nodded understandingly, and with a dramatic wave of his hand, the dishes disappeared.

Beejay jutted her chin out as if she were looking, grinned and straightened up. "You're neat! Stroganoff will love you!"

"Stroganoff?" Vagrian exclaimed, remembering that he'd been served what Damia called scurrier Stroganoff.

Beejay made a cross over her chest. "Swear by all I hold sacred, that's her real name. Mina Stroganoff. And she hates being teased about it." "I never tease someone who can cook like that. Let's assume our Tower positions, shall we?" He included the shy Vaclava Soolik in his courtly gesture. He did a two-fingered salute to Janfinde, who nodded in acknowledgment and went back to his truculent generators.

By the end of the eight-hour day, Vagrian was exceedingly grateful to Perry's insistence on set hours. His last task of the day was to bring down the CPO engineer who was going to help Janfinde.

Anything that comes m to the Asimov from now on can wait until morn-ing. There was something like droll humor in the Prime's tone. We're expecting fuel drones, but there've been priorities going astray, so no night-light wort( down there until our reserves are sufficient. Get a good night's rest and thanks for your help today, Beliafyn. Loo^forward to meeting you face to face. Captain Osullivan sends his regards too.

Thanks . . . Perry, and my compliments to Captain Osullivan.

Another delicious meal awaited the Talents and made the CPO's eyes gleam greedily.

"You guys got it made," he said, restlessly waiting until Beejay, acting hostess, told him to seat himself and dig in.

"Prime eating," was the CPO's opinion, even though Janfinde set the pace of eating to get back quickly to the ailing number two generator.

After he'd cleared the table of dirty china, Vagrian thought to ask if the CPO would need to be transported back to Asimov too.

"Well, sir, Captain Beliakin, if it's all right with you, when we finish, I'll just doss down here until after breakfast." And the man's wide, hopeful grin relieved Vagrian of one last duty. What he really wanted was a shower and a bed.

"Which room's mine?" he asked Beejay.

"Yours is the last door facing the corridor. Not much in it yet, but the shower water should still be hot. We haven't got everything set up," she said, "what with other priorities, but the bed's good. We're to get proper furniture later and you can choose. . . . Wait! Look at that! Worth a few minutes' watching," she added, pointing to the western-facing window as Iwo's sun set, gilding the evening clouds with gold and orange that seemed to linger long after the primary was finally out of sight.

"See what you mean," Vagrian said appreciatively. Then he nodded her a good night as he looked down the corridor for his door. He 'ported his duffels in that direction.

Bare the accommodation was, with a desk, a chair, a desk lamp in his "lounge." A door set in the west wall led into a bedroom, golden in the last of the dusky light, furnished with a wide bed that had a double sleeping bag on it. There was a wide bench. Sliding panels covered the

closet space on one side of the door, and to his left there were rough shelves and in the south wall another door, which opened into a well-equipped bathroom.

Someone got priorities right. Towels hung on a rack and a variety of toiletries were lined up on the space by the handbasin. As he stripped, he crossed to the bed and tested it. Yes, someone knew the priorities: the bed had some sort of soft layer and was firm beneath, fust right! He walked naked to his bathroom, 'porting shut the doors he hadn't bothered to close behind him. The shower stall was also a surprise: big enough for two. The water, while warm, was more hot than cool and there was enough of it for him to get a good scrub.

When he left the bathroom, the air had already cooled in the bedroom. A light on the headboard had come on automatically, so he made his way quickly to the sleeping bag, which he would doubtless be glad of if the night got much cooler, and lay down. He turned on his stomach and applied relaxing techniques to a mind spinning with work and myriad impressions. His last thought was that he had not had time to do something to Laria's favorite mare before he'd left Iota. Then he remembered that she was also Petra's mount and he owed the Iota Lyons. Maybe he even owed Laria. His own Tower . . . Vagrian Beliakin slept the sleep of the just.

The report of the onset of war on Hiver-occupied world Xh-33 reached Captain Etienne Osullivan on the Asimov while he was on the bridge.

"Emergency code from the Xh-33 Moon Base, sir," the communications officer said, swinging her chair round to face him.

"Put it up."

There was the usual time lag due to the distance between tht Asimov and the Xh-33 system.

"Captain Osullivan, Wisla Makako here." The screen showed the Oriental features of the facility's commander. "All hell's breaking loose down there on the Main Continent. Queens leading armies of really

Th Toner nid the Him \ 3 9

big . . ." The screen now switched to the surface carnage with queens leading some of the biggest creatures, which Osullivan recognized as augmented "worker" types from his captaincy of the Genesee. ". . . dangerous looking types."

"Is the situation more serious than your reports of earlier skirmishes over field boundaries?" Osullivan asked, his eyes intent on the scene. During the pause between query and answer, the captain sent quick orders. "Prime Perry, on the bridge right now!" Osullivan had never given the T-l such a direct order, in fact didn't even realize he hadn't couched it as tactfully as he usually did. Perry 'ported beside him and Osullivan had only to point to the screen's grim scene to explain the summons as he continued firing off orders. "Helm, set an immediate course for the Xh-33 system. Top speed. Fortunately we're not spatially that far from it. Send a signal to Iwojima that they're on their own for the next couple of days. We'll be back in orbit as soon as we've assessed the situation. Perry, the Moon Base has only a T-3 kinetic."

Makako was replying: "This seerns to involve all the queens on the Main Continent, sir, and I wouldn't call it a 'skirmish.' I'd call it an all-out war. The carnage is unbelievable!" Her wide-eyed expression reinforced her dismay.

"Has she said what started that?" Perry demanded, eyes glued to the scene. "Is the Moon Base in any danger?"

Osullivan shook his head as the Asimov could be felt surging forward in star-speckled space until the stars blurred.

"There's no way the queens can reach the Moon Base. Remember? We destroyed their spheres and scouts. Makako has reported that they've reopened their mines, but ore must be hard to find. New shafts have been sent down. On all the continents, by the way."

"There must be far too many queens, sir," Makako was reporting now. "I've counted forty separate battlefields and several queens contesting ground in one."

"Nothing you can do about it, Commander," Osullivan said by way of reassurance, and then turned to Perry. "Prime, please make contact

with Earth Prime whether he's at Blundell or Callisto. He needs to know about this. We really do need a telepath at every installation, even if he or she only receives." The last was said in a low murmur of regret.

"There's never enough to go round, sir. . . . Lieutenant Balidovino." Perry turned toward the duty engineer. "I'll need to draw on the generators for this distance."

"As you need, sir," Balidovino replied, fingers poised on the pressure plates of his engineer panel.

"Yeoman, my compliments to Commander Voorhees, and I'd like him on the bridge as soon as possible," Osulhvan added, rubbing his jaw without moving his eyes from the battle.

"Yes, doubtless they'll want an evaluation from the science officer," Perry said, crossing his arms on his chest. Then he closed his eyes as he telepathically leaped the long distance to Earth.

Quite imposing in that attitude, Osullivan thought, surprised at his own observation. Perry was no more powerfully built than any of the other Primes Osullivan had met, but there was an aura about the dark-haired, sharp-featured Betelgeusian that made him appear much bigger and ineluctably more powerful.

"My apologies, Earth Prime." Perry spoke aloud as well as telepathically so that Osullivan knew what was said. Replies would come back, through his mouth but in Jeffs voice. "But a situation has developed on Xh-33 that you should see through my eyes." Perry opened his. There was a slight pause, and then Perry's voice deepened, closer to Raven's tone. "So that's what happens when queens do not migrate. An awesome sight. Hmmm, and these creatures are much larger than those that were found by the Washington on Arcadia. Yet that is a much older colony and hasn't yet overburdened its planet's resources. A puzzle, what? Captain Osullivan?" Perry turned to Osullivan with a slight grin, encouraging response.

Lieutenant Commander Jan Voorhees came striding onto the bridge and stopped dead when he saw what was on the main screen, his eyes widening.

"A puzzle indeed . .." Osullivan waved a helpless hand at the scene

and the hideous, unceasing massacre, with broken limbs and scattered parts oozing viscous internal liquid.

"This is one time"—Raven's voice came through Perry's mouth— "when we allow the conflict to proceed. Ask Makako to keep recording. I'm calling up our own xenbees to 'see' this through me."

"Sir," Voorhees murmured to the captain, "we should get pheromone readings . . . once they've stopped fighting. That could be vital information."

"Quite right, Mr. Voorhees," Jeff Raven's voice replied, startling the man. Earth Prime chuckled through his link to Perry. "However, even if Humans have been able to move among Hivers without being noticed, I recommend hazmat gear and full masks."

"Of course, sir, since we don't know what effect such violent pheromones, even poisonous gases from all those visceral parts, could have on Humans," Voorhees said, running a nervous hand through thinning blond hair. "And if the prevailing winds happen to carry the stink to the other continents . . . well, I hate to speculate what reaction would occur."

"Good point," Jeff Raven said. "I'll mention that to our experts. We have, by the way, discovered a T-10 in the perfumery business who has volunteered to lend us his nose in identifying the smells. He's supposed to be good at more than the flowery stuff." Perry's voice dutifully echoed the amusement in Jeff Raven's tone, and one of Perry's eyebrows raised in surprise. "My xenbees are rubbing their hands in an excess of delight to know we can get samples of the dominant pheromones. Preferably as soon as possible after the battles end."

"I'll have a team standing by either from here or from the Moon Base, but I request permission to lead it." Voorhees deferentially looked at his captain, who nodded permission. Then Voorhees turned to Perry. "Is that possible, Prime?" Perry nodded. "Respond in your own time, Commander Makako."

The response lag was shortening as the powerful Asimov sped toward the Xh-33's system.

"Sir," Makako replied, shaking her head, "I would hate such . . .

butchery ... to extend to the other continents. Right now the weather system is mild with moderate winds blowing east to the sea. My Met officer says there are rain clouds over the intervening ocean. According to him, we might have as much as thirty-six hours before those winds reach the next landmass. We'll keep a strict eye on it. Continent Two is nightside and doesn't show any disturbance . . ." Her voice trailed off briefly.

"Have you hazmat gear on the base?"

Another pause. "Yes sir, as well as the crew who placed the remotes in the queens' collectives. I've put them on standby."

"Very good, Commander. Inform us when ... the fighting is over."

"Commander Makako, Blundell wants you to copy whatever is already recorded and tube it," Perry said with [effs voice. "I'll pick it up myself from your base in fifteen minutes from my mark. . . .Mark! We need to have some idea of how they fight."

"Yes sir," Makako said, looking toward Perry and rather startled to hear another voice issuing from his mouth. "I'm ordering a copy and it'll be in a message tube at lock 482, sir, in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you, Commander Makako. Let's hope we can stop the . . ."

"Butchery? Slaughter? Genocide?" Perry supplied synonyms in his own voice without a trace of emotion. Then once more Jeff Raven spoke through the link. "The queens demonstrate a curious killing rage. Similar to old berserkers. My regards to you, Captain Osullivan." As soon as those words were out of Perry's mouth, he altered his stance and nodded to the captain to indicate that he was no longer in contact with the Earth Prime. The generators whined down to a lower level.

"Berserkers?" Osullivan said, turning to Perry. "Yes, an apt term. Organize that landing party, will you, Mr. Voorhees? We want to be ready. Pheromones? How interesting."

Voorhees saluted and immediately left the bridge to organize his team.

Perry stepped slightly closer to the captain's chair and said softly, "One thing is certain, sir. Those records may have a salutary effect on those who criticized Admiral Ashiant's destruction of the spheres."

"I should certainly hope some good comes of that." Osullivan waved his hand in the general direction of Xh-33. Then his upper body shivered in a sudden convulsive shake. "Thank you, Prime, for your assistance."

"You're welcome, sir." Perry exited through the door of the short passage from the bridge to the Talents' lounge.

He went immediately to the alcove that housed the lounge's refreshment facility and poured a hefty glass of the strongest brandy of a very respectable selection of spirits Sod wines. He drank it in one gulp.

"Perry?" his wife, Adela, asked sleepily, from the door of their bedroom. "What was that all about? Etienne's never done that before."

"A question for Earth Prime that was urgent. Want a drink?" He held up the bottle.

She frowned prettily. "No, I can go right back to sleep if you're beside me." She was a T-3 kinetic, able to 'path when in contact with someone, and then only someone she knew well.

"I'll be right there, dear," Perry said, and poured a second but smaller drink. With her beside him to neutralize what he had just seen, he too could go back to sleep.

By morning, Captain Osullivan requested Perry to come to the bridge. The Asimov was already within the Xh-33 system and, with no need for a discreet approach, was still running at top speed. The com screen was scanning the devastated Main Continent on Xh-33, showing the carnage but also a bottom line that gave feeble blips, identifying survivors. Commander Voorhees was dressed in his hazardous material suit, complete with independent oxygen system. He had a compact gas chro-matograph lying across his left arm. Four other hazmat-suited figures stood slightly behind him and out of the way of the bridge crew, each carrying a similar device, their attention riveted on the shambles of once green, crop-sown fields.

"It seems to be pretty much over," Commander Makako was saying over the appalling vista of destruction down on Xh-33. "We know some

of the queens have taken refuge in their quarters, and suspect many are injured. Haven't established how many died, but of course, their . . . workers or warriors, or whatever we should call them, were without leadership. While we watched as some tied, a lot of the leaderless were wasted by whatever actively directed queen's group was nearby. Winds remain moderate. When Commander Voorhees joins us, my surface party's ready to go."

Holding up his device, Voorhees said, "It might be a bit clumsy but it'll give the readings needed," adding to the captain, who was regarding the instrument with a frown, "Probably selenoaldehydes or se-lenoketones. I've accessed what data we have on queen pheromones. They can vary a lot. Include thioketones at times if there's enough sulfur around."

"I also have four portable GCs," Makako said, with practically no pause between his words and her response. "We used them when we made our first surveys down there to plant the remotes."

"I've four xenbees to come along from theAsimov to help, if that's all right."

"No problem," she replied. "Main boat bay is cleared except for the shuttle to get us downside."

The screen switched from the battlefield to Makako in her hazmat gear in the boat bay, her surface team and the shuttle behind her.

"Prime Perry, would you be good enough to 'port theAsimov party to the Moon Base?" Osullivan asked.

"I'll even give them a boost," Perry said with a droll grin. The generators whirred and Voorhees and his team disappeared. "When you're settled, sing out." He paused, in a listening attitude, and then leaned on the generators.

"They're here," Makako said on the screen, blinking her slightly slanted eyes in acknowledgment of their arrival. "Commander Voorhees is now transferring his men to my shuttle."

"Where do you want to be set down, Commander?" Perry asked.

"Sir?" Makako's expression was a query.

"See that relatively empty spot, Perry?" Osullivan pointed to the area:

a vegetable field that had been trampled down but was clear of corpses. It wasn't far from a queen's collecting facility.

"Yes sir. Are you ready, Mr. Makako?"

"As ready as we'll ever be!" Makako sounded resigned.

"Get us as many samples in and out of the queens' quarters as possible. I know that the Hivers generally ignore us, but how they'd react now ... is debatable. Keep alert. Is that clear?" Osullivan said.

The baritone of Voorhees chorused with Makako's lighter soprano in a unison "Yes sir." The hum from the generators was deeper and Perry reached out and deposited the shuttle. The com officer switched to the planet's surface, and the shuttle was already in place.

"Neatly done, Perry." Osullivan settled back into the bridge chair, rubbing his jaw as he watched. "Please inform Earth Prime that Operation Nose is under way."

"I have, sir, and I'll just gather my team in the lounge and keep a watch, just in case we have to rescue anyone."

"Good idea," Osullivan said.

Balidovino transferred the landing site to the main screen as the figures emerged cautiously from the shuttle and began spreading out. The four under Voorhees's command headed toward the nearby Hiver facility, while Makako was gesturing for her group to fan out, making for the first of the many piles of inert worker bodies, a dead queen lying on the ground at the forefront. "Hope they don't need any rescuing."

Perry nodded and exited through the door to the Talents' lounge, calling up his team members. He was rather pleased with those unassisted 'ports, especially the shuttle.

Your father would pin your ears bacl(. Perry, came Jeff Raven's voice in his head.

Perry shrugged. Sorry, Prime. My team would have tafyen time to assemble, since this wasn't on today's schedule.

First law of the Prime is to conserve energy, Perry.

Yes sir.

Perry kept his reply neutral, but he was strong and able for the work he'd just done.

'Path me their reports as soon as they have anything significant to he-passed on.

Yes sir.

Especially if that weather front alters and the winds pict( up. I get the distinct impression that while pheromones cannot be transmitted in space, they could well affect the entire planet.

Not all the queens died in this fight, sir.

That's not what interests the xenbees here, Jeff replied, and absented his presence from Perry's rnind.

"What's the problem?" Adela spoke from their bedroom door. "The team wasn't due to meet. . . Oh, yes. I see. Can I get you something?"

"I can get my own," he said with a grateful smile. "You get dressed."

At Osullivan's quiet command, the main bridge screen was split so that both teams could be observed. As they neared the queen's collection building, Voorhees and his men had to step around and over dead forms, kicking aside severed limbs. They carefully skirted the few that were struggling back to their Hive, leaving behind yellowish trails of vital fluids. Then Voorhees hunkered down by a dead worker and looked it up and down, lifting one limb and measuring it against his hand span.

"Admiral?" Voorhees spoke into his com unit, turning his head up in a reflex action toward the Asimov and the observers he knew were watching.

"What's wrong, Voorhees?"

"Sir, if I remember the dimensions of the workers mentioned in Prime Thian's report on that planet he surveyed . .. called it Arcadia, didn't he?"

"Go on," the Admiral encouraged him.

"This fellow's a good twenty centimeters longer in the leg, and its body is at least ten longer. And see . . ." Voorhees poked at an extendable limb, hacked off at the first joint. "This one's got a mallet, ham-

mer . . ." He prodded it with his finger so that unbroken spikes were visible. "Now that's a wicked modification, or do I mean mutation?"

"It certainly is," Osullivan said. "Get it recorded and do a spot check on other worker bodies ... or should I call them warriors, if that's what they've put in place of shovels and rakes?" Osullivan turned to his com officer. "Put me on a wide com line. I want to get all surface units to check if all the ... workers"—he made an ironic grimace—"are the same."

The order was duly given and accepted. .' •

Makako's fan was also avoiding the stumbling wottnded forms that blindly retreated back toward Voorhees, or dragged themselves in the opposite direction.

"Can't tell the players without any markings," one of her team remarked.

"According to my GC readings, each queen must stink different," said another, "and boy, am I glad I'm in a hazmat suit and can't smell a thing!"

"Button up," Makako said firmly.

Then Voorhees's voice came on line just as he and his four entered the facility. "There's a badly wounded queen in here, her egg bulb is collapsed on one side, lost most of her hind legs to the second joint and has only one front arm with palps. She's making for her quarters and there're little scuttlers coming out to assist. They aren't her usual attendants. She'll squash 'em. . . . No, they're managing, several on each side of a joint. Spread out, men, and let's see how many she has left of her Hive. Miko, you're the shortest—check the waiting area down that right-hand tunnel."

"Sir, I'm getting heavy concentrations of the selenoaldehydes," one of his team said.

"I'd expect that inside a collection facility. Wonder what they'll be in the queen's quarters."

I 4 : Anne UcCalliEf

"Off the scale, prolly," another remarked with a snort.

"Let's get to the queen's quarters. There may be some interesting variations of Hiver patterns on her main screen. You have that recorder, don't you, Hickey?"

"Yes sir, but even with the help she's getting, I don't see how she can make it back. She's oozing with every step."

"As well for us. The left-hand tunnel leads to her quarters, Hickey. Gallard, stay back and warn us if she gets too close."

"Not that she has an arm left to do anything with," murmured Gallard.

"She's not the one who fights," Hickey replied with disgust. "She's got all them worker-warrior types we saw dead up above."

"Fighter or not, someone mauled her good."

The watchers on the ship could see Makako's team working farther away from the landing site. They were some ways from any other collective, stepping across sizable vines which had been ripped from supporting posts, Hiver bodies caught in the tangles.

And so the searching went. When Voorhees's team had exited from the facility, they returned to the shuttle and sent the first reports back to the Asimov, then purged the portable GCs for their next stop. Voorhees took the shuttle up, cruising at a low level until they caught up with Makako's point. Then they veered slowly in another direction, landing on top of another facility. There weren't even any corpses around it. The queen's quarters were empty, although Gallard thought he heard tiny scrabblings against one wall.

"The scuttlers, prolly."

The screens were dead.

"They die when the queen does?" Hickey asked.

"Probably," Voorhees said. "Concentration in here is only parts per trillion, sir, much lighter."

There were over 240 known Hive facilities on the Main Continent, and battles had been fought in every direction around them as queens led

their warrior-workers out to either defend their Hives or attack others. When the massed assaults ended, thirty-two facilities still had queens, some of them badly injured: two were combing through their egg reserves, beginning to fertilize eggs in a valiant attempt to repopulate their Hives. The surface team did not have to physically inspect all of them. Life-form readings, set to queens and the large warrior-workers, showed which facilities had queens and provided a rough assessment of their remaining minions. Recordings had been made of pheromones in a sufficient variety to give the scientists much to study.

Perry lifted the shuttle safely back to the Moon Base. The moment the shuttle doors opened, alarms in the boat deck went off.

"Do we stink that bad?" Gallard asked.

"You do," was the response of the lieutenant on duty in the base headquarters. "You go through decontam until you register zero on the stinkometer and you guys are thoroughly deodorized. That okay with you, Commander?"

"If we reek enough to set off the alarms, we should clean off before we undress," Makako agreed, and waved the troops toward the decontam facility. Since the unit held only one person at a time, there was a tedious wait.

"They still stink," Gallard said, wrinkling his nose as the last man to hang his gear up in the storage closet. "I'll never get rid of that reek." He felt his hair, rubbed down his arms and legs. "Yuck! Commander, can we use enough water to get really clean?"

"Permission granted," Makako said, devoutly wishing she had enough cologne left to get rid of the residual smell. She lifted her arm to her nose.

"All in your mind," Voorhees said, grinning.

"If it is, I'm in real trouble," Makako murmured to him. "And that shuttle still stinks. We'll have to moor it out in space for days. It's permeated the metal. Gods, those pheromones are pervasive."

"All in your mind," Voorhees repeated, enjoying his tease of the commander.

The com unit buzzed for Makako's attention: "Prime Perry says he's

moved the personnel carrier to the gym so you won't have to back through boat bay, sir, until it's been deodorized."

"Thank him." He held out his hand to Makako. "Pleasure working

with you."

She shook his hand solemnly. "And with you, but gods, how I hope

we don't have to do it again."

"Sir," the com unit continued, "Met says wind's picking up. What do we do about that? XO says all that smell moving to the eastern continents might be bad."

Makako groaned. "Get back to the Asimov. We'll have to do something . . . maybe seed some clouds and dilute those pheromones. Some of my readings were off the scale and most of 'em were subtly

different."

"I'll tell what comes up in the analysis, soon's I know myself," Voorhees said and then called for his four to come with him to catch their ride back to the Asimov.

Though the 'port was swift, the five men exuded enough residual pheromones to cause the ensign who opened the carrier to recoil with disgust written all over his face.

"Beg your pardon, sir," he said sheepishly.

"Into the showers, all of you," Voorhees said. "Tell the captain I'm taking our readings up to the lab. I'll shower again there,"

"Yes sir, but Captain Osullivan's orders were for you to contact him immediately." The ensign gestured to the boat bay's com unit on the

upper level.

"All right," Voorhees said, resettling the bag of data disks that contained the readings.

"What's this about a bad Met report, Voorhees?" asked Captain

Osullivan.

"Winds have picked up. Can we do something about diluting the pheromones it's carrying to the east? I'm on my way to the lab, sir, but I really don't want to bring a pong to the bridge, if you don't mind."

"Appreciate that, Mr. Voorhees. Report when you're . . . deodorized."

Tki Imi and th Hive , HI

"Yes sir."

Voorhees then made it straight to the ship's well-equipped laboratory and started his technicians on a preliminary report on pheromones, levels and types. Either the ensign had warned them or constant proximity to lab smells had dulled their olfactory nerves, but none of them so much as wrinkled a nose when he came near them.

"Do a quick assessment and inform Prime Perry when it's ready to be forwarded. We'll do the detailed chemical analyses later." He caught one of the yeomen by the arm. "Get me a clean shipsuit from my cabin, will you, Naves?"

"Yes sir, right away, sir." The man jogged out of the lab. '

A cloud seeding is advisable, Prime, Perry told Jeff Raven. The consensus here is that we'd best dilute the pheromones as much with rain as we can before the stench spreads across the eastern continents. I wouldn't like to see such slaughter as on the Mam Continent again. The pheromones are diverse and powerful. There is some scuttlebutt that the personal carrier Commander Voorhees returned in is stinging up the boat decf{. I believe he has taken four showers and applied to sicf^ bay for a pungent styn lotion.

Does he really need it? Or is it all in his mind? Jeff asked.

I've a message tube ready for 'portation, sir. There was an edge of amusement in Perry's voice. See what your scientists think..

I'll ship you appropriate seeding materials. You've done it before, I believe, on Betelgeuse?

Yes sir, I have, and the meteorological conditions are fortunately favorable. . . . Ah, sir? The science officer says we'd better chec\ the eastern continents after the storm to be sure the rain dispersed the aggressive pheromones.

By all means, and my compliments to Commander Voorhees. Good thinking.

The chroma tograms, taken both in the open air and in the queens' quarters that were visited, with and without the occupants, compared with those taken by Prime Thian on the planet Arcadia, kept the lights burning in laboratories and offices all night long. A preliminary report—with many protestations of * being a hurried summation and some speculations—was on Jeff Raven's desk by the time he arrived at his office in Blundell Building from Callisto. Copies had been sent to both High Councillors and Prime Elizara. Jeff glanced through the first few pages and , 'pathed a call to Thian on the % Washington.

Thian, sorry to rouse you, but I need to have Lieutenant Weiman and Grm here for an important meeting.

Sure, Grandfather, Thian said, dragging himself from sleep and the comfort of Gravy's warm body. Right away.

The queens on Xh-33 went to war on the Main Continent yesterday and damned near exterminated themselves.

WHAT? That news brought Thian wide awake and he increased his efforts to get into his shipsuit.

Please have Weiman and Grm bring all their data and visual records. 'Path me when they're ready and I'll assist in the 'port.

No need, sir. I can do it easily enough in gestalt with the Washington'^ generators.

It is urgent!

I believe it.

Thian was at his com unit, tapping in Lieutenant Weiman's quarters.

"A war?" Such news had as electric a shock on Sam as it had had on Thian.

"Grm is also needed and you're to bring everything you have on Arcadia's queens and any other research you two might have on the Hivers. Please go immediately to the boat bay and get into the personnel capsule. I'll alert the watch officer as soon as I've roused Grm."

"It's here," Sam said apologetically. "We were correlating some data and . . ." His voice trailed off.

"Great. How long do you need ?"

Thian could hear Sam's gulp. "Ten minutes, sir?"

"You're a star," Thian said with sincere appreciation.

Still groggy with insufficient sleep, Sam and Grm found themselves on Earth, in Blundell. The yard supervisor greeted them effusively, hurried them into the great blocky building and turned them over to Gollee Gren.

"Do you have any details about the war, sir?" Sam asked, stumbling along the corridors as the Prime's top assistant escorted them past security and to the high-speed elevator.

"Visual and data files," Gren said, "are awaiting you. I'd prefer

E HIVE

you to see them first before I comment. Prime Raven has called for a meeting with the two High Councillors and other experts at two o'clock."

"But... but... but. . ." Sam began, and followed him into the elevator, absently keeping Grm's material from slipping out of the Mrdini's arms.

Gollee turned and grinned at him. "Assimilate what you can in the time you have . . . and if a correlation is obvious, make notes of it. We're all trying to absorb what happened yesterday."

When the doors opened, he waved to the security guards who had come to attention.

"Lieutenant Weiman and the Mrdini Grm," he said, looking up at the ceiling. "From the Washington, at the request of Prime Raven. I am their escort."

The guards relaxed. Another came forward with two scintillating disks, which she planted first on Sam's chest and then on Grm's upper arm. As Sam looked down at it, the surface dulled.

"That admits you to this floor only, Lieutenant, Grm. If you need anything, use the com unit in the room," she said, saluting as she stepped back and gestured down the short hall. "It's set up with what we thought they might need," she added to Gollee Gren.

"Grand, thanks, Monnie. This way, gentlemen."

The room had the dead feeling of a high-security facility.

"Yes," Gollee said with another grin, noticing Sam's happy reaction.

"It's a grand room," the lieutenant said, glancing around a space that was quadruple the size of his office on the Washington. A full com unit with viewing screens above it occupied one wall, a wide sturdy round table with eight chairs were in the center and comformable chairs and a long couch stretched along the other wall. A serving unit was to the left of the entrance.

"You haven't had a chance to eat yet, have you?"

"We should get to work immediately," Sam said, starting to arrange the files he had brought.

"I suggest you eat first, Lieutenant, Grm," Gollee said with a grave

bow. "This will be a very busy day and you'll need to sustain yourself. Especially before you see the recording of the . . . queens' war on Xh-33."

"That bad?" Sam asked softly.

Gollee nodded slowly.

"Coffee," said Grm firmly, "black, and porridge."

"Good choice," Gollee said, and dialed it up.

"I'll have the same," Sam said, his tone wary.

When they were served, Gollee left them to eat. "There are other preparations to make for this afternoon's conference. If you'll excuse me?"

"Of course," Sam replied, and turned to his meal.

Five minutes before the two o'clock meeting, Gollee collected the two xenbees. He saw the haunted look in Sam's eyes, the droop of Grm's poll and knew that the queens' war had affected them as deeply as it had everyone who had seen the recording. The viewers might have been spared the sounds and smells of the carnage, but the omissions hardly mattered in the overall effect.

"It's nearly time, Lieutenant, Grm."

"Yes, yes," Sam said, hastily bundling up the scattered sheets of the hard copy, his files and notebook. Grrn kept dropping files until Gollee gave it a helping hand.

"This way, please," Gollee said, and to Sam's surprise, indicated the end of the corridor. "Prime Raven will 'port you himself from this point."

He nodded to them both and strode back to the elevators.

The next thing Sam knew, he was in a huge office, facing a conference table that had individual units built into its surface. There were twelve conformable chairs, four of which were already occupied. He noticed the Chief Xenbee in charge of the Heinlein Base's queen installation and bowed to her, but he didn't recognize the others except that they were all Fleet officers. For a scared moment, Sam wondered if this

fie low

was where the assassins had made their attempt on the lives of the Primes and the High Councillors.

"Actually, no." The quiet, slightly amused voice turned Weiman's attention to Prime Jeff Raven, whom he recognized from newsvids. He was talking to the equally recognizable High Councillors, Admiral Mekturian Tohl and Gktmglnt. "Lieutenant Sam Weiman and Grm are from the Washington," Jeff said to the others. "Mr. Weiman, perhaps you already know Lieutenant Commander Whila Gallahue from the Heinlein Base." When Weiman nodded, he continued, "So I will make you known to Lieutenant Commander Jan Voorhees of the Asimov, to the HGHL xenbee, Stg, and to Lieutenant Verla Mitab from the Xh-33 Moon Base."

As they were acknowledging the introductions, a slender elegant woman seemed to glide into the room from nowhere, causing Sam some consternation, as he was facing her point of entry.

Jeff smiled, holding out his hand. "I'm sure you all must know my wife, Angharad, Callisto's Prime. No cause for alarm, Mr. Weiman, the Rowan is the only other person who can enter my sanctum sanctorum without invitation." He guided her, with an air of conscious pride, to the nearest seat. "Please, ladies and gentlemen, take your places. We have much to discuss."

When they all had taken seats, the two minor 'Dinis slipped reverently into the Mrdini-suitable chairs on either side of the High Councillor, tilting their poll eyes deferentially away from such an august neighbor. Jeff Raven remained standing.

"This meeting was convened at the behest of the High Councillors and in this room for security's sake. I turn it over to Admiral Tohl." With a courteous bow to the Admiral, Raven sat down beside the Rowan.

"I trust you all"—the Admiral glanced round the table needlessly, for every eye was on him—"have had time to assimilate the details of ... the war." He grimaced. "Most unfortunate, especially as that sort of madness could spread to the other four continents of Xh-33.

He noted that Verla Mitab of the Xh-33 Moon Base winced. "My sen-

timents precisely, Mitab," he remarked. "And we must endeavor to formulate some solution. For in the solution for Xh-33, we may find the germs of a way to end the cyclic behavior of the Hiver queens.

"I am given to understand"—and now he nodded to Commander Whila Gallahue—"that the Hiver society exists in an oscillating equilibrium. This theory is borne out by the fact that, once the war was over and some of the surviving queens had returned to their hives, they immediately began to fertilize eggs to replace their losses. That is typical of such a society. It builds up population, overburdens resources and then forces the queens to set out aggressively to acquire enough land to support increased numbers. Since we confined the queens to their planet, destroying their spheres and preventing them from their usual modus operandi..."

"What else were we to do?" the Rowan interjected.

"Quite so ... the need to expand could only result in more than mere

border skirmishes."

"You're not suggesting that we're responsible for their war?" asked

the Rowan.

"Of course not. But we are certainly responsible for preventing them from leaving Xh-33 in a more orderly solution than war."

"With respect, Admiral," the Rowan went on, "what's the difference? Their war solved their immediate problem. There's now plenty of unoccupied space available on Xh-33." "Not if the other continents erupt."

"With so many queen Hives vacant," said Commander Gallahue in an unusually deep voice for a woman, "couldn't we spread the queens and their followers about the planet, and relieve the crowding that led to the war on the Main Continent?"

"That possibility is currently being examined," said Gktmglnt, turning its poll eye toward her. "That is only a stopgap. We who have suffered much from the Hivers look to find a permanent solution to the problem of queen migration." It turned its eye on Lieutenant Weiman. "Arcadia is much different, is it not, Lieutenant?"

"Ah? Oh yes, indeed, honorable Gktmglnt," Sam said. "It is pacific,

totally nonaggressive, and from what evidence we have, it has been so for centuries."

Gallahue leaned slightly across the table in his direction. "I have read your report on that Hiver colony with great interest," she said sincerely. "I must comment that even though the Heinlein queen is quiescent, the pheromones she occasionally releases are unlike those you reported . . ." She held up her hand when Sam opened his mouth to defend his findings. "I do not doubt the accuracy of your report. But if you compare Arcadia's ambience to the concentration of pheromones on Xh-33 .. ." She shook her head, leaving her sentence unfinished.

"That's it," Sam said excitedly. "There is no comparison, but Arcadia has remained a pastoral, nonaggressive, almost underpopulated planet. So what happened to produce the warlike queens of Xh-33?" He spread his hands in puzzlement. "And those who have plagued our Mrdini allies for two centuries?"

"If we could discover that, we could solve the problem," said Admiral Tohl, also spreading his hands.

"It is on record," Gallahue began, "that the Heinlein queen did, on one occasion, emit pheromones similar to, though not as intense or as concentrated as, those reported on Xh-33." "She did?" Jeff Raven asked. "When?"

Only his wife knew him well enough to be wary of that tone in his voice: almost teasing and very knowing.

"I remember exactly," Gallahue replied briskly. "For it was the day when the Phobos Moon Base managed to activate the refugee sphere they were examining." She gave a shrug. "There could not possibly have been a connection, but she went into a state of frenzy, charging about her quarters. It was the most active she had ever been. She also started emitting what must be her mating pheromones, for the two males, generally as languid as she, got quite excited—for them—and vied to stuff food into her maw and then to fertilize her by agitated stroking of her egg-bulb."

"Yes, I vividly remember that report, Commander Gallahue," Sam said. "I've studied all you've had to say about the queen.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. That was the only occasion when she was fed from vat six," Whila Gallahue added thoughtfully. "We were given supplies for her from the stored vats of that captured sphere, you know. She usually accepted food from vats three and four."

"We took samples from the foodstuffs stored on Arcadia, but nothing there resembles the compound from vat six. Yet another anomaly." Sam shook his head.

"Perhaps not," Stg said, entering the conversation. "Both Human and Mrdini require different food when engaged in martial activities. That has been noted. Why not Hiver queens?"

"If I may?" Verla Mitab from the Xh-33 Moon Base raised a tentative finger.

"Go on," Jeff said encouragingly.

"Well, sirs, ma'am, I think part of it is what they eat," she said, "because I've done two tours on the Xh-33 Moon Base, and by the time the base was ready, they were growing a different main crop in their fields. I noticed that when I played back the probe recordings the young Prime Rojer Lyon took." She nodded half apologetically at Rowan and Jeff. "And they also harvested more often. Another thing I noticed on my second tour"—she was talking as fast as she could to prevent an interruption—"was the way the workers started acting."

"What way?" Admiral Tohl asked kindly, bouncing his fingertips together.

"Well, you know how the field workers march out in pairs?" Sam was not the only one who nodded.

"Well, they stopped doing that. They started coming out one by one. They'd form pairs when they got enough space to do so. And it got

worse."

"How?" Jeff smiled encouragingly and she suddenly relaxed.

"It was like they had to push past. . . obstacles. Commander Makako sent a probe down, but all we saw was more bodies. Only . . ." She paused again, and cocked her head in a puzzled fashion. "What we saw was not too many workers trying to get out. It was many bodies mov-

ing around so the workers could actually exit. Then"—she blinked— "when the workers came back in, it looked as if the others, who never came out of the Hive, were taking the food from their backs before they could get it to the ramps or storage like they should have done."

"Did you send another probe in to investigate the anomaly?" Admiral Tohl inquired.

She shrugged. "Several more and in different Hives, but none had enough light to give us details beyond a sort of seething mass of bodies. And Commander Makako didn't want to send in a lighted probe."

"Probably just as wise that she didn't," Tohl said, "though in hindsight I could wish that she had."

"As I recall it," the Rowan said quickly, "remotes were installed in quite a few Hives, weren't they?"

"Yes ma'am," Verla Mitab replied. "Once the base was established, we were told to put remotes in fifty Hives on each continent. But just in the queens' quarters. Those green boards of theirs gave us enough light to see what the queens were doing. And all they were doing was being fed and stroked to fertilize more eggs."

"How many males did each queen have?" Stg asked, leaning forward. "Where did the eggs go?"

"Oh, eight or nine. We could see that they were sort of. . . courting her like. You know, trying to be the only one she'd take food from. We never did see what hatched from the eggs. The scurriers would take them out once they'd been . . . done."

"That was standard behavior in all the Hives you could observe?" asked Gallahue.

"Yes ma'am."

"Undoubtedly the queens were building up their forces in secret," Tohl suggested. "I would hazard the guess that the . . . press of creatures that slowed the workers on their dutiful way to the fields . . . were the warrior mutations that followed the queen to war, having somehow been fitted with maces instead of shovels."

"How did the queens mutate?" Gallahue asked. There was no im-

mediate answer. Then she added, "Diet? Only on that one occasion did the Heinlein queen eat from vat six." "How long did that last?" Tohl asked.

"Six days only, though the two males kept forcing food into her mouth. She'd let it dribble away from her maw," Gallahue said.

"The males kept forcing her to eat?" Jeff asked, sitting upright. "Maybe the queen isn't the guiding force in her Hive that we thought she was. Could the males pressure her by feeding her a special diet. . . to produce the mutated warrior types?" Glances were exchanged by the xenbees.

"Anything could happen with Hive queens," Gktmglnt said in a voice nearly as deep and dark as Gallahue's.

"Wait a minute," Jeff said, putting his elbows on the conference table. "How many males did you say the Xh-33 queens had?" he asked Verla Mitab.

"At least eight, sometimes nine." "Big ones?"

"Yes sir, bigger certainly than any from Lieutenant Weiman's Arcadia reports." Verla gave him a little smile.

"Big enough then to coerce an Xh-33 queen, big as they are," Jeff said. "But it was the queens that led the battles," Verla said in protest. "The males formed up like a sort of honor guard, to protect her. It was the mace holders who did the actual fighting."

"Until the queen was dead, or issued the 'flee' pheromones," Stg said. "Flee pheromones?" Jeff asked.

"Yes sir," said Lieutenant Commander Jan Voorhees, speaking for the first time. "That suggests"—he turned his gaze from Jeff to the other xenbees at the table—"that the Hivers once did have natural enemies, since 'flee' pheromones imply an automatic stimulus-response behavior."

"Too bad we don't know what scares 'em," said Admiral Tohl with a wicked grin.

Gktmglnt nodded agreement.

Itie lower and [he Hive I : .]

"A flee pheromone?" Gallahue repeated, pointing at Voorhees. "I hadn't thought of that possibility in Hivers."

"How could you, ma'am, with just a quiescent queen that has been separated from its normal society?" Voorhees said in a courteous tone.

"True," she admitted, "but a flee pheromone is apparent in many Earth-type creatures like termites, ants and bees. That's not to suggest that Hive queens are hymenopterous, of course, merely that they also can produce flee pheromones."

"Accepted," Jan Voorhees said. "However, Stg and I noticed distinctive variations in every site where a queen was killed. We also noticed that a dead queen's remaining warrior types, as well as her males, ran away. Of course, some of them just ran into the forces from another Hive."

"How did they tell who was friend or foe?" the Rowan asked.

"Each queen also generates her own specialized pheromone so her minions can identify her." Voorhees rolled his eyes. "It was murder trying to differentiate, but we did manage to identify quite a few of the Hives of dead queens by the residuals."

"Remarkable," Sam said, remembering how many pheromones he'd had to log from the Arcadian queens. "Arcadian queens are not quite as... intense, shall we say, as the readings you report on Xh-33."

Jan Voorhees stared at Sam, pushing out his chin. "What did you say ?"

"I said the Arcadian queens do not emanate the same powerful pheromones that the Xh-33 queens do or did."

He locked eyes with Voorhees as both, evidently simultaneously, made the shift to a conclusion.

"Can we substitute the pacific Arcadian pheromones for the aggressive ones of Xh-33?" Jan cried, almost hopping out of his seat.

"I would have thought that was an obvious solution," the Rowan said, her chin propped in her left hand.

"Obvious perhaps," Sam said, shaking his head, "but very difficult to implement. We would have to eliminate the identifying pheromones of

ydHbtj

an Arcadian queen and substitute the Xh-33 queen's. If that would even

work."

"Difficult to do," Voorhees said, staring thoughtfully at Sam Weiman.

"But not impossible," said Stg.

"This one agrees with Stg." Grm spoke formally, its poll eye glistening. It turned almost apologetically to Sam sitting beside it.

"You would have to duplicate the pheromones exactly to get the required effect," Gallahue said, shaking her head over that difficulty.

"Ma'am, with the practice Stg and I have just had, it's a case of accurately reading the GCs," Voorhees said, almost boasting of his prowess.

"That is not simple," Stg said, heaving a big sigh.

"Look, do I understand you correctly?" Jeff began. "You are suggesting that if we can accurately duplicate the Arcadian queen pheromones, we might pacify the Xh-33 queens? What's left of them?"

"The pacific pheromones could be sprayed on the surface and renewed frequently," Voorhees was saying, more to the other xenbees than in answer to Jeff. "It might just work. We could give it a try. What have we to lose?" He looked from Gallahue to Sam; he blinked at Gktmglnt and held Admiral Tohl's gaze.

The Admiral swung his glance to Commander Gallahue.

"It is a possibility," she said, though she obviously still had reservations.

"In the meantime," Jeff said, "I have had an urgent message from Perry on the Asimov. The weather pattern is shifting. Captain Osullivan has asked for permission to seed the clouds for rain. I will need your permission, Admiral Tohl, honorable Gktmglnt. The aggressive pheromones must be diluted before reaching the other continents on Xh-33."

The two High Councillors made eye contact. Gktmglnt inclined its poll permissively and the Admiral gave a sharp nod of his head.

"By all means, seed the clouds and prevent more battles."

"Then we have bought time to investigate the Arcadian possibility," Jeff said.

"But not yet an answer to the main problem," said Gktmglnt in a lugubrious tone. "There are so many occupied Hiver worlds."

"There is an Arcadia," Sam ventured to say. "Maybe there are more."

"We can but hope," the Rowan said pessimistically.

"Shall we then go a step farther," Admiral Tohl said, gesturing toward Commander Gallahue, who had made the suggestion, before he turned to Gktmglnt, "and ask the Asimov to implement a clean sweep of the Main Continent's vacated premises?"

"To resettle the queens is a good idea," the Mrdini agreed, nodding its head with great dignity. "It will be interesting to note how long that expedient keeps Xh-33 peaceful."

Jeff cocked his head, an attitude that suggested he was listening to a telepathed message. The others remained respectfully silent.

"The Columbia is just now entering the Ciudad Rodrigo system. Perhaps their examination of that Hiver-occupied planet will give us fresh insights, or confirm what we already know. Do we by any chance know whether or not one of the xenbees ever took GC readings on the big sphere? Three of the escape pods were activated and those queens fled, so the Hivers must have known they weren't going to outrun the nova wave."

Commander Gallahue smiled. "I do believe the Vadim xenbee records show that GC readings were taken, along with every conceivable analytic material the Alliance specialists have." She tapped rapidly on her notepad. "I thought so. Yes, the readings, though faint, are available. Mostly of corrosion. Perhaps not enough to use for an additional point of reference."

Jeff rose to his feet. "Perhaps you would all care to continue discussing plans in a secure conference area?"

The xenbees certainly did.

"We have begun to control our destinies," Gktmglnt said, lifting its large self to its feet, causing Grm to cower away from the mass. "That is good. Our good fight continues." It bowed to Jeff and those assembled, the approving gaze of its poll eye lingering slightly longer on the two Mrdini participants. IF YOU WOULD BE SO GOOD, PRIME RAVEN,

TO RETURN THIS PERSON TO ITS OFFICE, THERE IS MUCH TO BE DONE.

IT IS MY PLEASURE TO ASSIST YOU, HONORABLE GKTMGLNT. Jeff bowed formally. The Mrdini High Councillor disappeared. "Anyone else? Admiral? To your office?" When the Admiral nodded, he disappeared and Jeff turned to the others. "I believe that Gollee has secured a conference room for you, one with laboratory facilities attached." He smiled at the xenbees. "You've been exceedingly helpful. My warm thanks and good day."

"Very good of—" was all Commander Gallahue could say before she disappeared, along with the other six.

Captain Osullivan ordered the Main Continent cleaned up, using teams from each of the nine ships in Fourth Fleet.

"That's so we all smell as bad," the i / com officer on the A.S. Beijing '• + was heard to say to the com officer of the A.S. Strongbow. The comment was wisely ignored.

The removal of all the ; dead Hivers would require combined efforts, since the safest way to dispose of so much carnage was to vaporize it. While that left strong odors behind until the prevailing winds dispersed them, the pheromones matched none that might activate a queen's response.

"Not that many queens survived that

horrendous battle," Captain Osullivan remarked. "What

effect will that have on the real estate we'll be selling to queens we want to settle there, Mr. Voorhees?"

"Some vegetation thrives on being burned out once in a while," Voorhees replied. "Whether that holds true for this planet I don't know, sir, but I do know that the longer we delay getting rid of the corpses, the longer it's going to take to prepare the vacant facilities for new residents."

The battlegrounds had to be plowed and decontaminated to remove the taint of the body fluids spilled so futilely. Not many viable crops remained unscathed, but what there were were fertilized with the dung kept in the queens' facilities for that purpose. The stored eggs in each facility were vacuumed out of their repositories and those were flung into the seas and lakes for whatever denizens lurked there.

"Too bad the Hivers don't fancy fish," one of the CPOs on that detail was heard to remark. "Lots of aquatic types."

The next job, preparing the vacated quarters tor new residents, was made easier by Commander Makako's records of every queen facility on the entire planet. By pointing out the sites of the most recent "boundary" skirmishes, she could show the xenbees where to find the most aggressive ones. These would be kept busy enough in their new quarters to forget about extending their holdings. Her observers had also identified several young queens who had only begun to lay eggs and develop an entourage.

The best job, according to the scuttlebutt of Fourth Fleet, was following the Nose around. Jeff had explained to Pierre Laney the urgency and importance of applying his unique Talent to the minute, but important, differences of smell in queens' quarters. If the relocation was to work effectively, the queen must think she was still in her original quarters. Once Laney was assured that he was in no personal danger, and how important it was to replicate the distinctive aura in each facility, he accepted the job, and the enormous fee that went with it.

A spare man in his forties, he had indeed a remarkable nose, in size and appearance, for it was, as Cyrano de Bergerac had described his, a veritable rock, a crag, a cape ... a peninsula .. . of a nose, reddened, with

Tke Tmi and the Hive ' H 3

capillaries fanning out on both cheeks. He totally ignored any stares it caused, evidently well accustomed to every kind of reaction, but when he first came on board thcAsimov, he had a habit of taking a quick sniff of each area he passed through.

"I can find my way about anywhere in total darkness entirely by scent," Laney confided in Captain Osullivan, for he was naturally included in the captain's mess. His manner was always gracious and he was as good a listener as a nose. "Some places are more interesting"— he tapped the tip of his thick nose—"than others."

"We're grateful for your willingness to serve," Captain Osullivan said.

"A change is as good as a rest," was Pierre's reply, with a broad smile. "I've never been on a spaceship before. For that matter, I've never been off Earth."

He never got tired either, in his relentless tour of the deodorized facilities. He carried a wrist pad on which he made notations.

"Chemical formulas for the distinctive aromas," he replied to Voorhees's query. "However, I rarely forget one."

"Never thought of these," Voorhees murmured, gesturing around him at the empty queen quarters that they were currently evaluating, "as aromatic."

"Oh, they are, whether or not they are also pleasant to smell or so faint that only I can differentiate. Aroma does imply nice, as does scent. Aromatic suggests something stronger. But reek, smell, stink, pong, stench, fetor, redolence, all evoke memories in our minds of other times and places where our olfactory sense has met with that. . . flavor ... on a previous occasion. Think on it," Pierre Laney suggested. "Aroma, smell, fragrance, whatever . . ." And he gave a Gallic twist of his hand. "The mind"—he tapped his proboscis—"and the schnozzola remember."

"Schnozzola?" Voorhees echoed, his eyes protruding in astonishment.

"Schnozzola," Pierre echoed with a dignified nod of his head. "An ancient comedian with a beak like mine"—he caressed it with an

affectionate finger—"made an advantage out of what others would have called a disfigurement. Now, of course"—another Gallic wave of his hand—"physical perfection can be easily achieved." He shrugged in a dismissal of physical perfection as the ideal. "Now do I get to see the occupied Hives?" he asked.

Voorhees respectfully gestured for Pierre to precede him out into the fresher air, wondering how the queens had turned on the air-circulation device that Thian had mentioned.

They moved more cautiously in their searching and assessment of the quarters of the queens, scheduled to be relocated on the Main continent to relieve the population pressure and the threat of more territorial battles on their continents. Once Laney got over the initial shock of seeing a Hiver queen, propped up on her hind legs watching the green wall screen and whatever messages it conveyed to her, he followed wherever Voorhees and his security team led him.

"I did review tapes taken of the queen at Heinlein Moon Base, you know," he confided to Voorhees after the first investigation, "when Prime Raven approached me for this assignment. Being in the same . . . ah ... chamber with one is quite another matter."

On his return to theAsimov, he would also concoct, as he called it, the essence of each live queen.

"There are so many to be remembered in such a short time, I should not like to put queen thirteen's scent where queen thirty-three's should be. No, no, such a mistake would queer the entire operation," he explained to the laboratory technicians who assisted him.

The concerned head technician informed Captain Osullivan that the Nose apparently took little sleep.

"Ah, but I need little sleep." Pierre beamed at such consideration when Etienne Osullivan expressed anxiety over his diligence. "I only require four hours a night, you see. I love my work, you know." His brown eyes twinkled as he held a cautionary finger to his lips. "I have even discovered several new fragrances from the musk of the queens."

"Really?" Osullivan was surprised.

"Of course." Another Gallic shrug. "Many of the most popular per-

fumes are based on remarkable substances." He held up his hand, bowing his head as one who is divulging an important fact. "I have made up several, quite passable colognes. Your female officers are kind enough to say they are enchanted." He winked again. "So am I!"

"If I recall correctly," Captain Vestapia Soligen of the Columbia said, "Ciudad Rodrigo had a sphere which they sent up our tail end." Her expression was unforgiving.

"No good did it do them," Lieutenant Rhodri Eagles remarked dryly, twiddling his thumbs where he had stretched out a long body in one of the comformable chairs in the Talents' lounge aboard the Constellation-class ship.

The captain gave him a long stare, and as if it had been his idea and not his captain's look, he straightened up and clasped his hands together.

"Do we know if it took its scout ships with it?" she asked those in the room.

"No sir, we don't," said Commander Wayla Gregorian, the science officer.

"Mostly they do," Rojer said, "or they have no way of getting to and from the sphere when they reach their destination."

"Unless of course," Roddie remarked, "they've got ground-to-ship transports we've never seen."

"A distinct possibility." Major Kwan Keiser-Tau frowned at the security risk that could pose.

"However, I've never seen any," Rojer said, from a position of more experience with Hivers than anyone else in the lounge, and looked at Captain Hptml of the KMTM. HAVE YOU, SIR?

The large bronze-colored 'Dini shook its head. HAVE BEEN IN COMBAT WITH SCOUTS. NEVER BEEN TO AN OCCUPIED PLANET WITH LIVE QUEENS. THE POSSIBILITY EXISTS.

"Since your experts"—Major Keiser-Tau inclined his head stiffly but respectfully in Hptml's direction—"seem to think that the planet

Prime Thian explored is atypical and since you, Rojer, were at Xh-33 when its spaceworthy craft were demolished, we shall proceed with caution."

As ever, Roddie said in a 'pathed aside to the Talents in the room.

His hide gets shinned if we get hurt, Rhodri, Flavia reminded him.

"Prime Raven is anxious for us to reconnoiter," Captain Soligen

said.

The world they were fast approaching had three big, sprawling continents as well as small islands that might once have been connected to the main continents. Ice caps glittered at both north and south poles. There was little seismic activity anywhere, so the planet was old, geologically speaking. The initial probes indicated it was well settled and most of the arable lands had been laid out in typical Hiver field patterns. One of the continents narrowed on the equator so that, from space, it looked like a tightly corseted caricature of a Human figure. Soligen pointed to an area above the "waist," a wide plain with a range of hills that separated it from the ocean.

"I propose we start with this one. There appears to be a large enough underground area to house scouts."

"If they have any left," Roddie said, but he was paying close attention to the briefing.

"Certainly they have no sphere, just the debris that suggests one was in geosynchronous orbit to that field. Helm"—Vestapia raised her wrist com to her mouth—"how soon before we reach orbit?" "Four hours twenty minutes, Captain."

She rose. "Very well then, Major"—she turned to the security officer—"assemble a small team to accompany our Primes. I shall be most interested in having a running commentary on your exploration." She turned at the door leading to her bridge. "The treated hazmat gear is to be worn."

And don't forget to brush your teeth and gargle away the garlic, said the irreverent Roddie, though his expression was bland.

I just hope I'm around when you forget and spea\ those mean thoughts out loud, Flavia said, rising.

"Thank all the gods that I don't have to go with you. The temperature down there is like Clarfs," she added, jerking her thumb at their target on the planet.

"I don't know about anyone else," Roddie said, "but my hazmat is able for any temperature."

"Even the frost when you get cheeky with Vestapia?" Asia asked.

Roddie slowly brought his head around to look down at his youngest sister.

"Look who's talking about cheek!" he exclaimed, throwing up his hands as if in defense. He shot a quick glance at Rojer, who merely smiled at Asia. "I should never have encouraged him to court you." He laid a hand flat on his chest and appeared wounded to the core. "Serpent to my breast."

Asia only laughed, and putting a hand on Rojer's arm, hauled him in the direction of their cabin off the Talents' lounge.

"Remember," Roddie called after them, "we have to report in four hours and . . . ten minutes."

As the surface party's shuttle touched lightly down on the designated spot, Rojer could sense Asia's excitement as she darted glances out the porthole. Kwan Keiser-Tau gestured authoritatively at his sergeant to lead out the scouting party for a quick look around.

"Nothing's stirring, sir," the sergeant said.

"Not even the dust," came a low murmur.

"Can it!" the sergeant ordered. "Found what seems to be a man-made . . . excuse me, unnatural formation. Spread out there, Monks, see how far it goes. Might be the opening to the underground."

"Check for anything resembling a ... manufactured remote or spotting device."

Rojer peered past the wiry, shorter security major and then jumped to the ground . . . holding up his hand to silence Kwan's protest.

"Ain't no one here but us chickens, Major," Lieutenant Rhodri Eagles observed as he dropped beside the Prime.

Rojer hunkered down to push a finger into the obviously manufactured seam, looking along its length until he saw the scout reach the end and hold up his arm. The man pointed south, indicating the perpendicular direction of the seam.

"This is it, then. There's enough space to send an optic down." Rojer indicated the opening.

The major snorted, but beckoned to one of his technicians, who promptly came forward swinging the equipment pack from his back to a ready position. Kneeling by the crack, he inserted the optical wire, pushing it down, then kept his eyes on the dials and the small screen.

"Nothing down there but dust, and some sort of equipment stacked against the far wall. Over there, underneath us," he said, pointing to well beyond the parked shuttle.

Tell Captain Soligen, Flavia, that the stable's empty and the barn door's still locked, Rojer said.

Do I repeat exactly what you tell me, Rojer? There was a ripple of laughter in Flavia's tone.

Whatever. She lifes a good laugh now and then. We'll move out now, Kwan ever vigilant, to the nearest facility, about two kilometers from here, I'd say, Rojer added, adjusting the glare by darkening his helmet's visor. "Can we move out now, Major?" he asked politely.

"To the target area, Captain?"

"That's the idea, Major," Rojer said, controlling his impatience with the methodical officer, and beckoned for Asia, Mialla Evshenk, Yakamasura and Wayla Gregorian to exit the shuttle.

Nice touch that, though, Asia said, grinning up at her spouse, reminding you that you may be a captain in the Talents' lounge but he outranks you on the ground.

Roddie was carefully walking the very straight line of the hatch, did an abrupt right-hand turn with military precision, a hundred meters to another right turn, to the other end and around back to them . . . leaving a straight line of boot prints to mark out the underground garage.

The rest of the surface team exited the shuttle, and at Keiser-Tau's gesture, some trotted out to the perimeter, heads turning from side to side in careful survey. Others bracketed the specialists. When his scouts reported in that all was clear, the major signaled them to return. Once his team had reassembled, Keiser-Tau raised his arm and led them at a jog trot up the slight incline from what had been the queens' landing field.

The terrain altered abruptly into lush green vegetation, obviously cultivated, neat tamped-down earth marking well-used paths.

"They sure do keep a tidy garden," murmured one of the troopers.

"Maintain silence," the major said, a scowl in his voice and probably on his face. He stopped at the edge of the cultivation, looking this way and that.

"The queens do not, I repeat, do not see or hear us, Major," Rojer said.

"If they could hear, the patter of booted feet on an empty chamber would have roused some reaction," Roddie added.

"As you say, Lieutenant." Kwan awarded the T-3 a bare turn of his head in acknowledgment.

"Nor should we trample down the fields of corn," Mialla said, pointing to the neat, well-used paths. "We can easily stick to them. There's certainly nothing else moving. Major," she added deferentially.

"Keep to the paths. Sergeant, take the point."

Mialla used his momentary distraction to snatch a leaf from the nearest plant and was stowing it away in a specimen container before Keiser-Tau could protest.

"Need to analyze everything cogent to the project, Major." Her remark was not an apology. When that crop ended and a new, feathery plant was visible, she also took samples of that variety.

Following the paths, they came to a T-junction.

"And leading directly to our target too," Yakamasura said.

The security officer grunted, but despite his scans of the surrounding fields, nothing moved save the top leaves in a light wind.

So quiet you can hear the leaves growing, Asia said to Rojer.

A grunt from the major had the sergeant and two others jogging up the track to a distant pyramidal structure, the slope to its open side plainly visible as a black maw.

"We can move out now." Keiser-Tau s raised arm gave them a needless direction.

Both Mialla Evshenk and Yakamasura paused long enough to gather botanical and soil samples on their way, a patient rear guard stopping as they did so.

I didn't thin/(a Hiver world would loof(so grand, Asia confided to Rojer. There was just enough room on the path for her to jog beside him.

That's because you've only seen the ruined ones before. Xh-33 is , . . was like this, he said, shaking his head. The Columbia had received copies of the Xh-33 massacre. Rojer had been particularly horrified by the slaughter, since he remembered his probes across the orderly landscape now ruined by war.

Major Keiser-Tau halted them twenty meters from the slope into the facility. He sent the sergeant to the vantage point of the top of the pyramid and the man adjusted his visor for distance, turning slowly as he searched for movement. He paused, stiffened and pointed. The major adjusted his helmet, but he had to join the taller sergeant on the structure to see what had alerted him.

"A group of inbound workers from the look of them," he said. "Up here, everyone. We'll let them precede us. Some appear to be carrying leaves and things."

Without haste, the specialists joined the major and his troopers, where they too could see the advance of swaying backs.

"All in step too, looks like," someone murmured.

"Worse'n boot camp," another anonymous voice added.

"Silence."

Roddie twiddled with a setting on his helmet. "MAYDAY! MAYDAY!"

"Cut out the nonsense," Rojer said, because the major had gone into a crouch and his troopers had drawn their weapons.

"I told you they wouldn't hear us."

The major walked up to the T-3, his face contorted with rage. He was a full head shorter than Rhodri Eagles. "You're on report, Lieutenant."

"Yes sir," the lieutenant replied briskly, saluting.

Roddiel Asia said in exasperation. One day one of these funny little things you thinf( up is going to backfire on you.

So everyone tells me, Rhodri said with a carefully 'pathed sigh.

The surface party watched the stalwart workers trundling along, their backs loaded with freshly plucked wide, red-veined leaves.

"Like chard," murmured Mialla Evshenk softly.

The burdens covered most of the creatures so that details of their appearance were obscured. They counted one hundred pairs of workers descending toward the facility. Still in impeccable files, they walked around to the entrance slope and disappeared into the maw. A mechanical rumble startled everyone.

"Sending the harvest to the processors," Rojer said. "Remember the data from Thian's downside visit?"

"Oh yes, of course," Yakamasura said, smiling with relief.

Keiser-Tau gestured to another technician, who activated a handheld device, turning it as it followed movement below.

"Life-forms are now in a short tunnel and proceeding into a low wide . . ." one of the technicians reported, his handheld sensor following the movement.

Hole in the wall, said Roddie Eagles, irrepressibly.

". . . stable or some sort of holding place." A long pause. "No more movement there, sir."

"Where is there movement, Corporal?" the major demanded.

The corporal walked, as if on eggs, across the top of the structure and then stopped at the edge of the roof. "Farther below, out in that direction, sir."

"Laid out just as Thian's planet was," Rojer said. "And Xh-33, though I never got into the queens' quarters." He gestured for the major to lead on.

We need GC readings every where. . .and samples of any dirt, Flaviasaid. And f(eep talking. To me, if not to the major.

So Rojer described everything as the ever vigilant major led them cautiously down the slope. Yakamasura and Mialla took dirt samples, having to dig with their bootheels to loosen enough tamped earth to fill their containers.

Once inside the structure . . .

"Ooops. GC is picking up a high concentration of selenoaldehydes and selenoketones, sir."

Rojer reported that to Flavia.

"Night visor on," the major ordered needlessly. Everyone had already adjusted their helmets to see in the underground darkness.

"The workers would have dumped their loads down a ramp directly in front of us, and the moving belts are still taking the stuff wherever it needs to go," Rojer said. "The tunnel to the queen's quarters should be to our left." He felt a vague sensation of uneasiness, yet with Thian's report to reassure him, he couldn't imagine what he need worry about. The major grunted and signaled for advance scouts to go left. "Tall narrow tunnels all right enough, sir," was the report. "D'you think we could have a look at where the workers went?" Yakamasura asked wistfully.

"Is that necessary?" Keiser-Tau asked.

"Well, if this report is to be as complete as Prime Thian's was, then we should," he replied in his most conciliatory manner. "Corporal, take four men and Dr. Yakamasura . . ." "Me too, please," Mialla said, putting up her hand. "And Dr. Evshenk . . ." The major's sigh was audible over the com. When they had come to the end of the long narrow tunnel which Rojer described as well as he could—his apprehension still keen—their emergence into the queen's lair was almost anticlimactic. In fact, it was almost a duplicate of Thian's visuals. Scuttling things were running around on the floor, and the queen, sitting among the attendants who were busy stroking and cleaning her many limbs, had her black eyes on the quivering, changing wall screen.

Thi Town and the Hivi n 9

I've been here before, Rojer said to Asia, who squeezed his hand and, ever so slightly, pulled him back the way they had just come. Nothing new or any different.

"We need GC readings, Prime," the major said, and held out something to Rojer. "And this remote is to be placed . . ."

Rojer took the remote, removed the strip from the adhesive on the back of it and 'ported it into place, exactly where Thian had positioned his.

Now, let's get out of here, Asia said. Something is butting into me.

"Could we be under attack, sir?" the sergeant asked, shifting his weight and lifting first one leg and then the other, trying to look all around him at the same time. Rounded beetles were buffeting him.

"Same thing happened to my brother, Sergeant," Rojer said, with as much reassurance as he could. "Just more of the queen attendants."

I'll say one thing. There was an odd touch of pride in Rhodri Eagles's voice. She isn't as big as my queen at Heinlein Base.

She isn't?

"We'll need to find scrapes, 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 corns.

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

Oh, we have to do a fair number to mafye 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.

Anne Mctafliey

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 fyept 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 'por-tation 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 land-masses.

"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 infor-

Ih Tmi and tki Nine HI

mation," Roddie said, yawning hugely and settling hi$ 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 cdptain 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 namesake 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 forme to pass on to the High Councillor Gfymglnt,

it would be very grateful.

Zara's tone brightened immediately. / do. She chuckled. Using the principle that the last place you loof( 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 'Dim bud starts to form, actually, beforea '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 peepers 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 'Dim 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 Gtymglnt 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 Iota 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 'Dims 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. // wouldn't know what I meant even if I spoke its nickname out loud.

Pal and Dis would, Elizara said, still chuckling.

Oh, they thinly 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.

Thanf^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.

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 4* 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 soupgon," 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 corner 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 soupgon 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.

The Tmi and the Hive l\]

It'll be good experience and this wont take too long, will it? Damia asked her father. We're between loads and our apprentices can handle anything else that might come m with me as merge.

I'm sending Gollee too, by the way. He needs a brea^.

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 . . . wor\ . . . 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?

Oldenough . . . There wasa 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. / 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 tve 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 EHzara and her youngest son, Pietro. Gollee Gren and Barry Raven carne in to the Beijmg 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!*, Rojer remarked to Asia. Bigger than the Columbia'.?, 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 bis 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 loo^s 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.

The Turn lid the Hiu n \

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 canapes 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, savoring 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 wor\ 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 thinf( 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.

owe

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 Katzir 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.

"I think you can tell who's a Prime in there without naming names."

"Don't listen to him," Mimi advised her crewmate, winking coquet-tishly 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 Osuilivan. "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

and

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 organized," 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-l'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 affect 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.

flie Taw ei and the Uivi i 95

"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 thinly we

caught number one in her morning nap. Ah, now she's waging 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 worfy 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, thinly 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."

Tkt lowei and (he Hin ' \ \ j

"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 trices 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.

Speaf^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, andean 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 EUzara 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 ma^e a neat package, li^e 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 outloo^ on life. There was a pause. Your grandmother informs me that Gollee Gren's outloo^ 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 outloof( 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?

Gravy went with him this time, and she was rather more impressed than she had been from the visuals and all the reports he had made.

"Sure is one thing to hear about and another to see," she remarked, having clung to his hand as they entered the queen's quarters.

With the familiarity of many such visits, his teams collected the samples of air and soil both inside and outside the facility, counted workers, checked to be sure none of them were sporting new macelike accessories in their extendables and returned to the Washington. By midafternoon, Thian was able to send the carrier with the garnered samples and details back to Earth Prime. He received the formula of the pheromone "gentle rain" that was being used on Xh-33. This was to be disseminated in a spray over the lands, to disperse through the soil and thus into the food and the Hives.

"We'd have to check periodically," the Admiral said, shaking his head as if he didn't quite believe that such an expedient would suffice.

"I expect so, sir," Thian agreed amiably. "But that wouldn't take more than one of the fast scouts, with a T-2 aboard, instead of a Fleet."

"True, true," Ashiant said, still not truly convinced, as Thian perceived from his body language.

"Your orders are now to leave this system and proceed to the next one that's been listed as Hiver-occupied."

Ashiant tapped in the relevant report. "Hmmm. Seven days away at top speed. Ah well, one more on our way home. Thank you, Thian."

"Thian honey," Gravy began that night as they made ready for bed. "If we have to check out every single one of those suspect systems on our way back, there's no reason I can't ask for maternity leave, now is there? I mean, Laria's working her Tower and nav regs allow me to work till I get too clumsy . . . and . . . well, would you mind being a father?"

Thian turned toward her, his face lighting up with his delight. He crossed the distance between them and held her fiercely to him.

"Mind? I've been hoping to persuade you to consider it!"

"I don't need much persuasion, Thian honey," she said pertly, and reached up to brush back his white lock before framing his face in her hands. "In fact, I stopped prevention just in case you were . . ."

His response showed her just how much he appreciated her willingness. Laria might have the first new generation of Lyons, but with such obvious cooperation, he and Alison Ann would not be far behind. And a "happy event" would certainly make the long Search worthwhile on a personal as well as a professional level.

Operation Switch was completed two days later. In several of the now abandoned hives, tiny creatures had been found running circles and been 'ported to their respective new homes.

While an atmosphere of celebration marked the final evening meal on board the Asimov, attended by all the participating Talents and the captains, every one involved was tacitly hoping that the "gentle rain" would have a long-term effect. Certainly the potential for another queens' war on Xh-33 had been defused.

Captain Osullivan had orders from the High Council to leave the Strongbow and the M.S. KLLM in orbit, keeping a close watch, with

Commander Makako in the Moon Base on Xh-33. They had sufficient quantities of the gentle rain of Pierre Laney's compound to soak the ground: the pheromone compound would permeate the atmosphere and drift down into the queens' quarters.

The report from Thian Lyon in the First Fleet had confirmed that the latest Hiver-occupied world he had investigated was in no danger of erupting into dispute, and the pheromone spray saturating the soil should have the necessary calming effect. If the oldest Hiver-occupied world had never indulged in overproduction of workers to require colonization, perhaps that had been the original intent, not the constant emigrations and "sterilization" of other planets and their indigenous life-forms. Yet there were many questions unanswered. Those worlds that the Hivers had occupied, or were occupying, had to be identified. In the course of that wide-ranging survey, more planets could be made available to Mrdinis and Humans.

"Our drives starward are not so different from the Hivers' after all," Pierre remarked sotto voce to Captain Osullivan.

"No, they're not," Etienne Osuflivan replied. He had entertained that thought on several occasions, with some private chagrin. "Except that any world with an evolving protosentient life-form is off limits to us and our Mrdini allies."

"True," Pierre replied with a tight smile. "But should we not also limit our aggrandizement when we have so criticized another's?"

"That is not for me to decide." Osullivan was extremely glad of that.

"Nor I. I merely make an observation. But this has been the most stimulating task of my entire career," Pierre went on, idly turning his wineglass by its stem as he mused. Then he lifted it to Osullivan. "This has been a marriage of the scientific and the psychic."

"Indeed it has," said Osullivan, lifting his glass to touch Pierre's. "You might say God-sent."

Pierre caught the pun and laughed appreciatively before he finished the fine wine in his glass. "I am scarcely God or a god, Captain, but I do have the finest nose in the galaxy. I never once expected that my Talent would prove of such worth to my profession."

All! Nchliiev

'We all serve, Pierre, each in our own way."

Jeff Raven brought back to the Rowan in their Callisto quarters the news that Zara's research had borne fruit.

"You mean, don't you, that no fruit will be borne," said the Rowan, locked in her husband's homecoming embrace. She could feel the sense of accomplishment vibrating through his body without needing to touch his mind.

"Whatever," he said, chuckling at her correction. He released her somewhat so that, with his arm draped around her slender waist, they could walk into the dining room where dinner awaited him. He appreciated that his wife preferred to cook their meals. They enjoyed the tranquillity of their evening hours together. Both were on call for emergencies, but both had also trained their assistants in Blundell and Callisto Tower to recognize a "real" problem from something that could be solved by them or in the morning.

"Odd that the solution to both our major problems should be linked to pheromones."

"They certainly play a larger part in interactions of all the known species than I ever realized," Jeff Raven said as he drew out her chair and seated her at the table. "Let's just hope that such simple remedies could be found to all our problems."

He filled their wineglasses before he sat down. Then he inhaled deeply of the aromas wafting up from the covered dishes on the hot plates. "This smells great!"

"It's the taste that really matters," the Rowan said, and then waggled a finger at him. "Let's think no more about problems, love."

Jeff smiled lovingly at her. "A toast first, to Pierre and his nose, to our children and their children and to those who will take our places: May they have the sense . . . and the scents ... to provide peace throughout the galaxy."

"To peace!"

The End