His original hive rejected anything alien. It even rejected any thought patterns that were too extreme. That was the cause of his rejection: the possibility that he had been infected by the poisoned hive. He had accepted that rejection, because of his loyalty to the hive. But now he realized that there was an irony. The same restrictions which protected the hive also limited it. No hiver had ever explored the wilderness, so the hive was ignorant of its wonders. No hiver had invoked a Virtual Mode, so those wonders too were not known. Yet the aliens had abilities which could benefit the hive. Such as this concept of “magic,” by which they could change the size of objects, or make fire appear. Such as “telepathy,” which was like the touching of contact points, but from a distance, and with the barriers of contact conventions reduced. Such as “technology,” which enabled them to conceive and make this wagon, so that he could travel with them despite his inability to float here. So though he was having to adapt far more drastically than he had anticipate, benefiting more than he had expected.
He had, so far, taken more from this little hive than he had given to it. It was his nature to try to be an asset to his hive, rather than a liability. Perhaps his time would come to make his contribution.
In due course they came to the lake. This time the ingenuity of the smallest and smartest of the human aliens, Colene, provided them with a new way to cross. They expanded the wagon to large size, so that all of them could stand on it, including Seqiro Horse. They pushed it out into the water, using the poles, until it floated. They fashioned paddles, which they fixed to the wheels. Then they stood one to a wheel and pushed each forward on top, so that its bottom moved the other way and stroked against the water. It was what Colene called a paddlewheel boat. It moved slowly, but they were able to steer it, and it seemed secure from the Anomaly predator.
The Anomaly did appear, but this time it did not attack. It seemed that it learned from experience, and what it had learned was that big wooden craft were not fit prey. Nevertheless, protective nets were set up along the sides, and there were a number of sharp spears ready. The humans did not leave things to chance, if they had a choice.
Across the river they got on land and diminished the wagon until it was possible for the armored horse to carry it. Burgess could float on this path, so he did, sparing them the burden of transporting him. They made good progress.
Then the crab came. It was not as smart as the Anomaly, and did not learn well from experience. But this time they were ready for it.
A fireball burst right in front of the crab. A patch of forest brush blazed. The crab retreated, not liking the fire.
The party continued along the path. After a while the crab came crashing through the brush again, following them. Another fireball appeared, making another temporary barrier. The crab desisted.
They reached the spot where the path was too narrow and rough for Burgess to float across. The three humans picked him up again, strengthened by the horse’s mind, and carried him beyond the obstruction.
The crab came after them again, still refusing to learn from experience. One more ball of flame balked it.
“Say, I wonder whether Nona could stop the hivers the same way?” Colene inquired.
Burgess considered drawing on the human qualities of the hive mind, because by himself he could not reason well. No, he concluded that the hivers would simply put out the fire with sand. If fire struck one of them, they would think it was a natural fire expanding suddenly, and would not be balked. Since there were many of them, they would attack from all sides. Even if a ring of fire were instituted, they would fire rocks and sand in from beyond it.
“Got it,” Colene agreed. “Fire doesn’t balk a sandstorm or a rockfall. But night and armor may.”
They moved on past the site of their first camp and reached the verge of the wilderness. Here they stopped. It was late afternoon, and they had succeeded in making their trip in one day. They had eaten their middle-day food while waiting for the wagon to expand for the river crossing; now they ate their end-day food. They expanded the wagon again, and installed the sides and top, and tinkered with it to make sure it was ready to move. They fixed the harness so that the armored horse could haul the wagon without complication. By the time it was dark, they were ready to go out on the plain.
This time Colene and Nona joined Burgess inside the wagon. They had slit-apertures through which they could peer to see the darkness beyond. Burgess’ own eyes would not extend that far, so could not see out. However, with the linkage to the horse’s mind, he could see all that he required. There was some faint light, after all, because of the moon. It did not show any detail, but the outlines of large things, such as trees, could be made out.
They started moving. Darius walked in his armor beside Seqiro in his armor. Darius guided the horse and kept watch, so that Seqiro could concentrate on his hauling and on the minds of all of them. It was a useful collaboration and separation of contributions that represented the proper functioning of the hive.
The wagon ride was somewhat bumpy, but they were moving slowly and could handle it. While they rode, they conversed.
“Burgess, did you ever have a girlfriend?” Colene inquired.
Contact with a female hiver? It had been constant, when he belonged to the hive, since all members updated regularly. There was no distinction between males and females in this respect.
“No, I don’t mean routine social dates and updates,” Colene said. “I mean going steady, falling in love, having sex, having babies, being a family, not necessarily in that order.”
Love? Sex? Family? These were alien concepts.
“Okay, let’s get down to basics,” Colene said, while Nona remained carefully neutral. “Love is like being just so wrapped up in one person it changes your whole life. Like me with Darius. Show him, Seqiro.”
Suddenly a strange, pleasant, encompassing emotion came, tinged with excitement and fear and desire. Burgess had never experienced anything like it. His closest approach was his devotion to the hive.
“No, that’s patriotism, not love,” Colene decided. “Okay, so you don’t know love.”
“Neither do I,” Nona said.
“So let’s tackle sex,” Colene continued. “How does your kind do it?”
He understood that what she meant was how floaters reproduced. They contributed to the central nest, each blowing seeds of itself into the nutritive substance. The males blew many seeds, the females few. When the seeds encountered their opposites in the nest, they merged and began to grow. Eventually they became large enough to leave the nest. Then they emerged and learned to float. When they floated well enough, they were dispersed to other hives.
“Wow, it really is a hive,” Colene said. “No family life at all. No child rearing. How do you stand it?”
It was the way it was, and that was sufficient. However, the rearing of young floaters did occur. It was spread throughout the hive. The little ones made contact first with selected nurse-floaters, who familiarized them with the conventions of the hive. Then they circulated more widely, learning more with each update, until they were fully current. That was it; they were full members of the hive, and would remain so until they lost air and expired.
“What happens then?”
The expiring hivers went to the nearest burial bog and let themselves sink in. It was bad form to expire either in the main camp or on the plain, because then the hive had to go to the trouble of moving or of burying them in dirt.
Colene sighed, which was a way to express resignation. “I guess it’s no worse than what our kind does. We mostly pickle our dead and bury them in boxes. But I’ll bet you find life with us on the Virtual Mode more interesting.”