He could have had one of the newer and more sophisticated cells in the lower levels, but Hellstrom preferred this place that he had occupied since the day his brood mother had gone to the vats—“becoming one with us all.”
Hellstrom strode back and forth on the tiles of his floor now, worrying about the intruder. Whom did that man represent? Certainly, he was not there out of casual curiosity. Hellstrom sensed a powerful Outside force slowly turning its deadly attention toward the Hive.
He knew he could not delay his response longer. The watchworkers would be irritably restless. They needed commands and a feeling that proper action was being taken. Hellstrom bent to his console, coded his instructions, and sent them into the relay system. Those instructions would be transmitted throughout the warren. Key workers would take preassigned actions. Every worker selected by the relay system through the Hive’s central computer would see gesture signals on a screen. The silent language of the Hive would bind them into a common defense.
In common with many of the key workers who would unite thus, Hellstrom knew how thin the Hive’s defenses really were. The knowledge sent fear through him now and he longed for the mental oblivion of the common worker who had few concerns beyond immediate tasks.
Driven by his fear, Hellstrom opened a filing drawer, extracted a folder tagged “Julius Porter.” The ordinary vat mark had been stamped on the outside of the folder to tell what had happened to Porter’s flesh, as though he had been discarded breeding stock whose records were kept as commentary on offspring, but Porter had no offspring in the Hive. He had merely brought a sense of mysterious threat which he had left largely unanswered. Something about the new intruder made Hellstrom think of Porter. Hellstrom trusted such instincts. He glanced through the closely spaced lines of information inscribed in Hive code. Porter had carried credentials identifying him as an employee of the Blue Devil Fireworks Corporation of Baltimore. He had babbled something finally about “the agency.” This agency had represented in his terrified mind something that would revenge him.
Agency.
Hellstrom regretted now that they had sent Porter so soon into the vats. That had been callous and careless.
The idea of using the pain of a fellow creature, however, went against Hive sensitivities. Pain was a recognizable phenomenon. When it occurred in a worker and could not be eased, that worker might go to the vats. Outsiders did not behave this way, though. This was a Hive peculiarity. One killed to eat, to survive. The killing might cause pain, but that was quickly ended. One did not prolong it. Ohhh—survival might dictate another course, but the Hive had avoided those ways.
Presently, Hellstrom put the folder aside, depressed a key at his repeater station. He asked for one of the security overseers in the aerie watchroom of the barn-studio. The instrument that carried his voice was of Hive construction and he admired its flat functionalism as he waited for a response. Presently, Old Harvey came on the screen above the instrument. His voice quavered slightly. Old Harvey would have to go into the vats before long, Hellstrom reflected, but that could be delayed because this man had talents that the Hive required, and never more desperately than right now. Old Harvey had been one of the first breeders. His seed was all through the Hive. But he was also knowledgeable in the ways of the Outside and an imaginative guardian of Hive security.
They spoke openly on the internal circuit. There wasn’t even the remotest chance that the Outsiders possessed instruments that could penetrate the Hive’s electronic barriers. In this field, Hive specialists already had moved far ahead of Outsiders.
“You know about the intruder, of course,” Hellstrom said.
Yes.”
“You’ve been watching him personally?”
“Yes. I sent the watchworker to call you.”
“What’s he been doing?”
“Just watching. With binoculars mostly.”
“Do we have anyone out?”
“No.”
“Any exterior activity scheduled?”
“Only a delivery—diamond bits for our level-fifty-one drills.”
“Don’t pick it up until you clear with me.”
“Right.”
“Is there any chance he’s carrying relay instruments that could monitor his activities from a distance?”
“Porter carried no such instruments.”
Hellstrom suppressed a feeling of irritation, but noted that Old Harvey had also made that unconscious connection. “I mean, have we checked?” Hellstrom asked.
“Not completely; we’re still in process of checking.”
“Ahh, you’re being thorough,” Hellstrom said.
“Of course.”
“Tell me as soon as you’re sure.”
“Yes.”
“What about aircraft?” Hellstrom asked. “Anything?”
“Two jets very high more than an hour ago.”
“Any indication of probes from the jets?”
“Nothing. They were commercial transports. Clean.”
“Does the intruder look as though he’s settled in for a long stay?”
“He has a knapsack and lunch. We think he’ll wait for nightfall before leaving. We’ve been hitting him with an occasional low-frequency burst to keep him jumpy.”
“Excellent.” Hellstrom nodded to himself. “Keep up the subsonics. If he’s nervous, he’ll make mistakes. But don’t use too much; you could drive him off before dark.”
“I understand,” Old Harvey said.
“Now, as to that woman waiting by the vehicle out near our perimeter: what do you make of her?”
“We’re keeping her under close surveillance. The intruder came from her direction. We think they’re associated.” He cleared his throat, a loud and rasping sound which said something distinct about his age. Hellstrom was made acutely aware that Old Harvey must be more than two hundred years old and that was very old for first colonists who’d not had the benefit of an entire lifetime under Hive regimen.
“Undoubtedly they’re associated,” Hellstrom said.
“Could they be innocent intruders?” Old Harvey asked.
“Do you really entertain that idea?” Hellstrom asked.
There was a long pause. “Not likely, but possible.”
“I think they come from the same source as Porter,” Hellstrom said.
“Should we have our people in the East look into the Blue Devil Fireworks Corporation?” Old Harvey asked.
“No. That might betray the extent of our influence. I think extreme caution is indicated—especially if this pair has come to find out what happened to Porter.”
“Perhaps we acted too hastily with that one.”
“I’ve had my own misgivings on that score,” Hellstrom admitted.
“What is this agency that Porter represented?”
Hellstrom reflected on this question. It contained his own unease. Porter had talked profusely at the end. It had been disgusting and had hastened his transit into the choppers and the vats. Yet, the necessities of that incident could have clouded its content. No member of the Hive would ever have behaved that way, not even an ordinary worker, although they could speak no language intelligible Outside. Porter had said the agency would get them. The agency was all-powerful. “We know about you now! We’ll get you!” Porter had been the first adult Outsider ever to see the inner workings of the Hive, and his hysterical revulsion at the ordinary things necessary for Hive life had shaken Hellstrom.
I responded to his hysteria with a hysteria of my own, Hellstrom thought. I must never do that again.
“We will question this pair more carefully,” Hellstrom said. “Perhaps they can tell us about this agency.”